disclaimer: All Scott's.

author's note: No particular timeline for this piece. :) It takes place whenever you think it should. Also, because it amused me: I wrote the last section first and the second-to-last part, second. xD Enjoy and please review with any thoughts.

She doesn't know how the kissing started or why it didn't stop. She doesn't know what she said or he said or what they did or what changed in two and half seconds that made them do it.

This is insane, she thinks, even as one of her legs wraps around David's waist in the thickest part of the jungle. I am going insane and that is why this is happening.

Neither of them consider pulling back. You know what they say-- finish what you start and all.

It's not until they're on the ground and she's sprawled on top of him that she pauses, catching her breath. Her sneaksuit is at her waist; David's shirt is long gone. The taste of him is filling her mouth, slowing her words.

She arches into his hands even as she tries to think and talk at once. Wasn't she supposed to be good at multi-tasking? "I--" she starts, and stutters. So much for Special. "Can we... I-- are we going to--"

The names for it fill her head, but none fit just right: have sex, get off, fuck.

Like always, David knows exactly what she's thinking. "The Rusties," he murmurs against her skin, sucking and biting. "They called it making love."

Suddenly, it seems like the best idea in the wide wild world.

"You're so beautiful," David whispers, while she tries to figure out how evolution made it possible for them to be such a perfect fit. His hands slide over her hips. She shivers on top of him and with a flash of insight knows why the Rusties had made up their superheros-in-the-sky all those years ago-- because this is something more than nature, it has to be.

"David," she whimpers, because that's all her vocabulary consists of at the moment.

Eventually she finds his hands and they lock together. Everything sweetens before her eyes until they finally flutter closed, letting feeling take it over. David props himself on his elbows and nudges her face to his so their lips can meet, the shift of his body under hers searing like lightening.

"Beautiful," he says again, breathing it into her mouth like it will keep her alive. She pants, heat splintering her.

"Beautiful," she murmurs back, not sure if she's agreeing or telling. It could be either because they're both true, both of them are beautiful, together and rocking. His hands are everywhere, burning her. We are beautiful, she realizes, the revelation bringing a cry from deep in her throat and breaking her apart in David's arms.

He catches her and holds her together. It's his specialty, after all.

Oh, Tally thinks, blinking open her eyes to morning sunlight streaming through the trees and dappling itself on David's arm where it falls over her bare stomach. So this is what happy feels like.

She looks at David while he sleeps, at his face: pockmarked, imperfect, rough, real, comforting, beautiful. And the only words that come to mind are, Oh hell, what took us so long?

Tally curls closer to him and closes her eyes. She could definitely get used to this.