I spent all day trying to think of something to write on the topic of "firsts" and this idea finally came to me a few hours ago. Jean's reaction to her book is a pretty accurate representation of what I've been like over the past couple weeks reading y'all's fanfiction.

Jean let out a sigh of impatience from deep within her chest, sinking deeper into her position on the sofa, nestled comfortably into Lucien's side. He had been silent for some time, one arm around her while the other held some medical journal or other, but he made a quiet questioning "Hmm?" at the sound she let out.

Jean was obliged to tear her eyes away from the novel in her hands just long enough to look him in the eye, lifting the book up to his eye level as if that were explanation enough.

It was, apparently, and he simply nodded, the hint of a bemused smile on his face, before they both turned back to their reading.

Evidently, Jean was finding hers much more interesting than he was his. Having once been relaxed into his embrace, she was clearly becoming more and more wrapped up in the story, and her body was tense with anticipation—it must have been a romance, he thought. Only half-conscious of his actions, Lucien let his hand wander from its place on her shoulder, trailing down her arm and making its way to her waist, where he found her muscles wound tight as a violin string. Definitely a romance, then.

He tried to focus on the article he was reading, but each movement, each little sound his wife made clamored for his attention, and he was finding the latest in vaccination research to be less interesting by the second. Finally, she let out another sigh, this one of relief, and he watched as she let her eyes flutter shut for a moment, closing the book with one finger pressed between the pages and clutching it to her chest.

"Enjoying yourself?" he finally spoke into the silence, and after a second she opened her eyes, and he found them shining with unshed tears.

"They finally kissed," she said, by way of explanation. "It took…" she opened the book for a moment, glancing at the top of the page, "thirty-six chapters, and over a year, but oh, was it worth it."

This was one of the many things he'd learned about her in the past six months of blissful marriage—her love for reading. This was not the first time he'd held her in his arms while she lost herself in the words on the page, and each time she endeared herself to him even more, if it was possible. He did not express these thoughts, not wanting to distract her from what was proving to be an enthralling story too much longer, and instead simply dropped a kiss on her head. "I know the feeling."

She laughed sweetly at that, and he felt it ring through her body with the hand which was still sitting on her waist. He pulled her closer to him, closing his eyes and remembering their first kiss with fondness and clarity. "When you kissed me, that day in the driveway," he continued, whispering into her hair as if it were a secret, "it was certainly worth the wait."

She chuckled lightly, distractedly, as she opened her book once more, set on continuing to read. "Darling, you kissed me," she corrected gently, surely thinking that would be that and setting her attention once more on the romance in her hands.

Lucien was much more concerned with the one in his own heart. He pulled back, turning her gently in his arms until she was forced to look at him. "What?" she asked, the look on her face one of confusion, but not annoyance.

"Are you joking?" he asked her, but didn't wait for an answer. "Jean, you kissed me first."

"I most certainly did not," she replied, teetering just on the edge of indignance. In fact, she had never been one to initiate the first kiss between herself and another man, not that there had been many. In her mind, there were certain ways that things were supposed to work, and she'd always been more than happy to let a man make the first move, in the beginning, when everything was still new and unsure. Of course, now she knew Lucien was the last man she'd ever kiss, and his lips were familiar and sure against her own, and she wasn't shy about starting things. But as for that first kiss, she was quick to remind him, "you could hardly wait until your wife was down the driveway."

She wondered, for just a moment, if it had been a mistake to bring up Mei Lin, as Lucien stared at her slack-jawed. But she realized he was simply incredulous. "Hang on," he said, shifting against her, disrupting their comfortable position on the sofa until she realized he meant to stand. He took her by the hand; he meant for her to stand as well, apparently, and she did, not entirely sure what he was doing.

"Alright." He placed his arms on her shoulders, gently maneuvering her until she stood to his left. "You were here, and the driveway was there," as he pointed in the direction of the wall, "and you had your hand on my shoulder like so." He went to place her hand, but she beat him to it, resting it on his shoulder as she had done that day.

"I remember," she said softly, somewhat amused, but with all the love in her heart for this man.

He just nodded, all seriousness. "The car disappears down the drive, and I take your hand." He did then, wrapping her hand in both of his, and all at once she realized what he was doing. She'd heard this exact note in his voice, seen that look in his eye, countless times, as he worked cases, and she almost let out a laugh—he was recreating the crime scene.

She didn't laugh, though, for then he looked at her in that achingly familiar way, and her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach, even after all this time, as he took a step toward her, and she was transported back to that day, outside his house, when he'd finally come for her broken heart and found it still beating with love for him. His hand reached for her face, and he spoke so softly she could only just hear him, as if he were afraid of breaking the spell.

"It was just like this," he murmured, his hand warm against her cheek. "I looked at you, and I waited."

"What were you waiting for?" she asked, so close he must have felt the breath of her whisper on his face.

"I wanted to be sure that you were alright with this," he told her, and the air around them felt heavy with the weight of his confession. "I didn't want to make another mistake. I was...gathering my courage. And right as I was ready to close the distance-"

She didn't wait for his conclusion. She was the conclusion, as she wrapped her hand around his neck, pulling him to her until his lips finally crashed against hers, and she could almost believe she'd waited months for this, as his hands came to rest on her back, pulling her impossibly closer.

It was over all too soon, and she rested his face against his as they breathed in one another's presence. There would be no pulling away this time, no fight-or-flight instincts kicking in, and he had nothing to ask her—the question had been asked and answered, many times over—so she simply stood in his embrace, her forehead pressed against his, until he finally broke the silence.

"Yes," he said softly, as his eyes fell open, shining with his love for her. "Yes, it was just like that."

This was partially inspired by a thread I read on tumblr several days ago (the thread itself was from years ago) where people were debating who kissed whom in that scene. Also, thirty-six chapters…..thirty-six episodes. I couldn't help myself. Anyway thanks for reading!