Disclaimer: Don't own anything. The song is For Some Doll from the musical Guys and Dolls.

Author's Note: Got this idea smack in the middle of writing the next chapter for Photographs of Freedom and it wouldn't leave me alone. I absolutely recommend this musical if you haven't seen it.

I'm becoming very fond of this pairing. I think it's because I'm a sucker for those really loyal types.

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Love is a symbol of eternity. It wipes out all sense of time, destroying all memory of a beginning and all fear of an end. ~Author Unknown

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Yes sir, when you see a guy reach for stars in the sky,
You can bet that he's doing it for some doll

"Did you know," Yuan says without any preamble one night. "That that star right there," He points to illustrate. "Is named after an ancient hero?"

"Oh really?" Martel looks sideways at him. "Who's the hero?"

"Well," Yuan starts on a long tale that Martel laughs at sometimes because really, he was funny without trying. It doesn't surprise her that he remembers a story as old as this one—she thinks she remembers her mother mentioning it once or twice. Yuan had a photographic memory.

When you spot a John waiting out in the rain,
Chances are he's insane, as only a John can be for a Jane.

"What're you doin' out here?" Yuan called.

Martel turned to him, tucking a lock of pale green hair behind her ear. There were strands still sticking to her forehead and the knees of her breeches were dirty from kneeling in the mud, but she's smiling and it seems to light up the world.

"There's a relean."

Yuan frowns at her, puzzled and jogs quickly to her side. He's soaked within seconds—the rain was ridiculous when they were so close to the coast—and they're both probably going to catch a cold from this, but he can't quite bring himself to mind when Martel is still smiling like that.

"A what?"

"A relean." Martel points at the flower inches from her hand. It's a lovely pale white, its throat tinged with fiery orange and gold. "That's its elvish name. I don't know it in common. It only blooms during the rain."

Yuan was still trying to figure out exactly what to say to that when a loud crash of thunder made them both jump. He grins and offers her a hand up. "C'mon. Let's get going."

They run back to the cover of the trees, laughing and slipping and skidding across the mud. They're leaning on each other by the time they return to the campsite, breathless with laughter and exhilaration. Mithos is already curled into his bedroll—he always fell asleep easily to the sound of rain—and Kratos looks up and shakes his head at the state of them.

"I don't want to know." Is all he says and, for some inexplicable reason, it only sends Martel and Yuan back into their laughter.

When you meet a gent paying all kinds of rent
For a flat that could flatten the Taj Mahal,
Call it sad, call it funny, but it's better than even money,
That's the guy that's only doing it for some doll

They're in the human capital in Sylvarant and they cannot believe what they're seeing. It's beautiful here, with their strong, brick buildings, flowerboxes at the windows and brightly colored rooftops. The houses here are enormous, especially compared to the homes of half-elves back in Tethe'alla.

"One day," Yuan promises as they're standing in front of such a house, his hand holding hers tightly, thumb brushing over the slim steel-and-gold ring on her left hand. "We're going to live in a house like that."

When you see a Joe, saving half of his dough,
You can bet they'll be minting it for some doll

Yuan has never had any sisters and his interactions with his mother were…strained…to say the least. He doesn't know how to act around the opposite gender. Oh, he can flirt well enough and his charm is top notch, but that's for those girls at the bar or the ones who looked at him approvingly. Not ones that he had to interact with on a day-to-day basis. Not ones like Martel.

Therefore, it's very easy for him to say things that anger Martel and he doesn't know what he does wrong. This had been one of those times. So he'd scrounged up any money he could find, digging at the bottom of his traveling pack and in all of his pockets and ran for the market.

When he comes back, he catches Martel's wrist before she goes to collect firewood. "I-I'm sorry, alright?" He held out the box of chocolates, the biggest one he could find in the small town that they were camped near. "Forgive me?"

Martel stared at the box. It must have cost him nearly all of whatever coins he must have had on him. She smiles and kisses his cheek. "C'mon. I'll share."

,
When a bum buys wine like a bum can't afford,
It's a cinch that the bum is under the thumb of some little broad

They can't afford wine, not that they much like the taste of it anyway. They much prefer ale. But during one of the not-so-good times when they're rifling through a restaurant's garbage for dinner—Mithos was nearly lost in the trash bags and Kratos had to fish him out—they manage to find a bottle of wine—very expensive to their untrained eyes—that was almost untouched. There was a crack running along the neck of it, but it was thin and didn't look like much.

They keep the bottle carefully nestled in Martel's pack between the clothes and the spare blanket that all of the males had insisted that she take so that it doesn't break. When Kratos asks him why, Yuan just smiles a little. "It's a reminder of where we're gonna get one day. We're going to be able to drink stuff like that one day, Kratos and we won't be persecuted. We'll live in town, in a real house and, who knows, maybe we'll even have kids and you and Mithos can live nearby. It'll be great."

It's their promise to themselves for a better life, for a better world. The day that Martel gets killed, the bottle had broken, shards of glass poking through her pack.

When you meet a mug lately out of the jug,
And he's still lifting platinum for the roll,
Call it hell, call it heaven, it's a probable twelve to seven
That's a guy that's only doing it for some doll.

When Martel gets Kratos and Yuan out of the jail, there's an exasperated and slightly amused look on her face. They look pitiful, sitting there side by side, backs against the wall and legs stretched out in front of them. They weren't in there for anything big. Someone had picked a fight with Yuan (Neither of the men will ever tell Martel that the whole thing had started because the guy had been planning on making a move on her) and Kratos couldn't simply sit back and not back up his best friend.

"Come on, guys." She says, both hands extended to help them up. "Let's go home."

When you see a sport and his cash has run short,
You can bet that he's been blowing it on some doll,

When the blacksmith looks at the half-elf standing in front of him, wringing his hands in nervousness. "This won't be enough." He tells him. "Not for a ring like you're thinking of."

"Please." The half-elf pleads, brushing blue hair out of his eyes. "I-I have to have that ring. It's-It's special."

The order had been for a ring made half of steel and half of gold with inscriptions in elvish on the inside. "She must be beautiful." He remarks.

The man's face lights up. "She's the most beautiful girl I've ever met. And she's kind and smart and the way she smiles…it's damn near enough to break your heart."

The blacksmith usually had a very firm policy. No money, no order. But this man, clearly he'd been on the road for a while. His clothes are dusty and wrinkled, his boots are muddy and he has that ragged look to him. And on top of that, he's a man in love. The blacksmith can't say no. Not this time.

When a guy wears tails with the front gleaming white,
Who the heck do you think he's tickling pink on a Saturday night?

The day that they get married is a huge affair. Yuan and Martel are well-known through the army and any of the half-elven military who could make it that day were there. It's nothing fancy—it is a war after all—but Yuan was dressed in clean clothes, his hair combed back and someone had fashioned a rough bow tie for him. His shoes were scrubbed until they almost shined and he couldn't keep the grin off of his face.

Kratos stood beside him, just as clean and he'd at least attempted to get his hair into some kind of order. He almost wants to laugh at Yuan's excitement.

When Martel comes down the aisle, accompanied by Mithos, the entire clearing falls silent. She's radiant, even dressed so simply. Her hair is loose and combed free of tangles and there's a daisy someone had pinned her bangs back with. Her dress is what was fashioned of scrubbed sheets so that it was nicely white and its simple and modest cut suits her.

Once the vows and the kiss are said and done, the reception is incredible. Everyone dances and everyone eats more than they have for the past couple of years. Kratos finds Yuan and Martel sitting at a table, her head on his shoulder. He said something that made her chuckle and lightly push him, but he grinned and kissed the top of her head, arm going around her waist to pull her closer.

It's the happiest Kratos has ever seen them.

When the lazy slob gets a good steady job
And he smells from Vitalis and Barbasol
Call it dumb, call it clever, ah but you keep on forever,
That's a guy that's only doing it for some doll, some doll, some doll,
That's a guy that's only doing it for some doll.