24Warning: Lots of cussing ahead.
The Relationship
Summary: Every relationship goes through a number of stages. Elena and Diego's goes through four: The Honeymoon, The Discovery, The Disappointment, and The Commitment.
Stage One: The Honeymoon
According to love songs and fairy tales, this stage is what love is supposed to be like. You meet, you connect, you fall in love. Everything seems right. Nothing seems out of place.
Elena Maddison recalled what her editor had told her not ten minutes ago: Dark hair, dark skin, pants practically down around his ankles, surrounded by a bunch of morons who consider Jackass to be their Bible. She observed the guy leaning against the flag pole closely. Yep, she'd definitely found the right one.
She'd never heard of Diego Arturi before, but apparently he was the son of a tycoon in some line of business or another. Quite honestly, Elena didn't particularly give a flying fuck about either Arturi, but since everyone else on the paper were apparently a bunch of pussies, the task of interviewing Diego had fallen to her. Not that she minded.
Watching him now, Elena didn't know what the hell everyone apparently found so scary about the guy, yet they all got their fucking knickers into a twist when her editor announced that his interview would be the upcoming issue's feature article. Elena didn't give a shit what the feature article was about; she was just happy she was going to write it, despite the fact that she'd written the last two – her editor had what Elena deemed a retarded rule in which no one is allowed to write more than two features in a row on the count of it being "unfair". What the fuck ever. Her editor had had no choice but to break her own stupid rule and give the piece to Elena, which she immediately accepted with a smug grin.
Shifting her bag on her shoulder, she ambled over to the group of Jackass wannabes, stopping beside Diego himself. "Diego Arturi?" she asked.
He eyed her up and down with a smile. "Yeah."
"I'm writing an article about you for the school's paper. Think you can tear yourself away from these retards for ten minutes or so?" Elena ignored the indignant cries of "Fuck you, Maddison!" and waited for Diego's reply. He was contemplating it far longer than necessary. "Jesus Christ, man, I didn't ask you if you'd like to go bomb the fucking police station," she said with a roll of her eyes. Patience was most definitely not a virtue she possessed.
Diego burst out laughing, shaking his head as he did so. "Well, aren't you just a ray of sunshine."
"Seriously, I got better shit I could be doing, so hurry it up – yes or no?"
Diego smiled. "Yeah, I can spare ten minutes or so."
"Well alright then." Elena turned and led Diego away from his friends.
"So how come you're interviewing me? What'd I do to deserve such attention?" Diego asked once they were both sitting on the grass. His chest was puffed out arrogantly.
Elena looked at him like he was an idiot, which she was starting to think he was. "You share genes with Arturi senior."
His face fell. "Seriously? You're interviewing me because of my dad."
"Yeah, now stop gibbering at me like a fucking schoolgirl and let me get my questions answered."
They spent the next twenty minutes going back and forth. Turns out, Arturi senior – his first name being George, she'd learned – was one hell of a bore fest. (That and Diego clearly had issues with the man.) She'd have to pull out her A-game to make the feature into something worth reading.
"Is that it?" Diego asked, watching Elena shove the tape recorder back into her bag as she stood up.
"Fortunately, yes. No offense, man, but your dad's wicked boring. Tell him he seriously needs to get a life. Pronto." She flicked Diego a finger gun and said, "Adios" before making her way down to her car. Diego quickly followed her, falling into step beside her.
"What are you doing tonight?"
"Nothing with you, that's for sure," Elena replied, not missing a beat.
"Why not? Unlike my dad, I'm fun to be around."
"I'll take your word for it."
"Not scared to be alone with me are you?"
Elena burst out laughing. "You obviously don't know me if you think a skinny ass, wristband-wearing, Lords of Dogtown wannabe like yourself scares me." They'd arrived at her car and Elena wasted no time in getting the driver's side door open and sliding behind the wheel. "Besides, genius, I just spent twenty minutes alone with you."
"We were surrounded by a bunch of other people," Diego pointed out. "It's not the same thing."
"I'ma pass, Arturi, but thanks for the offer." Her words were dripping with sarcasm.
"Why?"
"If you really must know, I've already filled my bad ass wannabe with daddy issues quota for the month."
Elena slammed the car door in his face, started the engine, and peeled out of the parking lot without a backward glance.
Four weeks later, Elena was in the middle of telling her friends about her plans for the weekend when Diego popped up out of nowhere.
"You lose your sense of direction or something, Arturi?" she asked, shoving a spoonful of pasta into her mouth and swallowing it down after a couple of quick chews. "Your retard friends are over there." She pointed across the cafeteria where his usual group of friends were using their tabletop as a seat.
"Why do you keep calling them retards?" Diego asked with a smirk. Not that he disagreed with her; he often found himself amazed by the level of their collective stupidity.
"Well for one, they're using their table as a fucking seat when there are seats attached. Can't get much dumber than that."
"Agreed," he said laughing. "So that was a pretty good article you wrote about my dad."
Elena raised an eyebrow. "Pretty good? What the fuck are you on? That was one hell of an article. It deserves to be worshiped."
"How about we celebrate tonight?"
Elena eyed him curiously. "First you gotta tell me what your definition of 'celebrate' is."
"Me, you, a few beers, a few cigarettes, a game or two of pool. Then," he shrugged his shoulders casually, "who knows? We'll see where the night takes us."
She pretended to think it over before saying, "No."
"Why? You filled your bad ass wannabe with daddy issues quota again?" he joked.
"No, my persistent shithead quota, actually." The bell sounded signalling the end of lunch. Elena rose from her sitting position, throwing Diego a "Ciao" on her way out of the cafeteria.
Over the next month, Elena got to see first hand just how much of a persistent shithead Diego actually was. When he wasn't waiting for her by her locker after every single one of her classes or eating at her table during their lunch break, he was technologically stalking her for what seemed like every minute of every day. If it wasn't instant messages, it was text messages. If it wasn't text messages, it was emails. If it wasn't emails, it was phone calls.
And if it wasn't any of that, it was rocking up on her doorstep whenever he felt like it.
What surprised her most - and dismayed her just a little - was that he was wearing her down.
Elena was no fool. She had two eyes in her head and a definite appreciation for the male form, and Diego was most definitely something worth appreciating.
That is, until he opened his mouth.
The buzzing by her ear made her want to punch something. "For fuck's sake, Arturi," she snapped into the mouthpiece, "it's the fucking weekend. Can't a person sleep until noon without you bothering them?"
"When it's you, no," he drawled back.
"What do you want?"
"I'm coming over," he announced happily.
"The fuck you are." She sat up and pushed her hair out of her face.
"See you in ten." He ignored her cussing and ended the call.
"Asshole," she muttered, dropping her phone on the floor and flopping back down on her bed.
Exactly ten minutes later, Diego was in her bedroom dressed in jeans, a plaid button-down shirt over a wife beater, and a pair of Vans sneakers. Elena rolled her eyes as she took in his clothes. "God, you're a walking cliché," she said. "All you're missing is a skateboard."
"I happen to like these clothes," Diego replied. "And FYI, I don't skate."
"Whatever," she muttered scratching her head. "You gonna tell me why you woke me up at the ass crack of dawn or what?"
"It's ten in the morning."
"That's not an answer to my question."
"We're going to the amusement park."
She stared at him. "You're shitting me."
"No, now come on." He stepped over to her bed and pulled the covers off of her. He gazed down appreciatively at her tank top and underwear only-clad body. "Unless, you'd prefer we hang out here?"
"Hell no," she said, climbing out of bed and stepping around Diego. "Who knows where you've been."
They argued over what CD to listen to on the ride over to the amusement park. Elena won by throwing his Ramones CD out the window. "It'll be good for you in the long run. Trust me."
When they got to the park, they argued over what to do first. Diego won by picking Elena up, throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her to their first ride. She cussed him out the whole way.
Three rounds on the roller coaster, five rounds on the bumper cars, fifteen games winning absolutely nothing, ten arguments, and a hot dog and coke later, and they called it a day.
Diego drove them to a hillside park overlooking the beach where they perched themselves on the hood of his car and talked about anything and everything.
"You ever want to get married?" Diego asked.
"Why, you proposing?"
He grinned. "Maybe."
"In that case, no!"
He nudged her foot with his, laughing.
"I don't know, man. I mean, let's look at the state of marriage today. You got fucking celebrities getting married left, right, and centre, and for what? Shits and giggles? 'Cos they got nothing better to do? And then you got gay couples who are the genuine article and want to spend their lives together, and the law tells them they're not allowed to be married because the majority of the population believe that a couple thousand years ago, a long-haired white dude preached to a bunch of other white dudes about how homosexuality is evil. That's pretty fucked up."
Diego looked away, shaking his head, amazed. "You know, take out the cussing and insulting, and you're pretty damn smart."
"Pretty damn smart?" Elena turned her head to stare at him in disbelief. "I'm a fucking genius."
"Yeah, I'm starting to realise that."
"Starting to? What do you need, a flashing neon sign in your face or something?"
"Oh come on! You know most smart girls aren't anything like you."
"So what, a smart girl's gotta be prim and proper?" Elena shook her head. "Generalise much?"
"Don't even give me that," Diego argued. "You know most smart girls aren't like you."
"Well duh. No girl, period, is like me." She flashed him a bright smile. "I'm one of a kind, baby."
"I'm not gonna argue with that."
"Good."
"You didn't answer my question, though," he said. "You ever want to get married?"
Elena shrugged. "Dunno. It's not like I've got the best role models for a successful and happy marriage. My folks are always fighting about one thing or another. It's pretty fucking depressing, actually."
"I know what you mean. My mum cheated on my dad and split, and now my wicked boring dad fucks around with random women."
"Parents," Elena said, shaking her head in disgust. "Who fucking needs 'em?"
"If I ever get married, it's gonna stick until the day I die," Diego said, staring off into the distance. "No fucking way I'm ending up like my dad."
They talked well into the night until Elena told him she was getting hungry.
"So why the deep and meaningful?" Elena asked as they climbed back into Diego's car. "You trying to get to know me or something?"
He looked her up and down. "Maybe I'm just trying to get into your pants?"
"Well fuck, why didn't you say so? Come on, let's go!" She started to climb into the back seat before Diego pulled her back, laughing.
"You seriously have no shame."
"You love it."
And he did, Diego realised. He had fallen for this girl, and fallen hard.
The first time they did have sex, it was awkward. Neither were virgins by any means, but the first time with a new person was always weird. Figuring out how to position your body, figuring out what the other person liked and didn't like, striking a balance between the foreplay and the act itself; it was an experiment that almost always ended badly. But it was one to be repeated and perfected, which both Diego and Elena made damn sure to do, and as regularly as possible.
"How many does that make it?" Elena asked, puffed.
"I don't know, three? Four?"
They both burst out laughing. "I think we need to keep a tally or something," Elena suggested.
"Probably. But in the mean time..." Diego pulled Elena's body underneath him, completely losing himself in her.
"Let's just say it was four," Elena breathed in between kisses. "Which makes this five. Hey, that's a record for me! We should celebrate."
"I'm celebrating you right now, in case you couldn't tell," Diego stated. "You're missing some of my best moves here."
"Sorry. Continue."
Their bliss came once more and they both collapsed onto the bed.
"Perfect," Diego sighed.
"Abso-fucking-lutely."
Stage Two: The Discovery
During this stage, you and your partner uncover things that bug you about each other. You also begin to discover what you truly love and respect about one another.
They were parked in the break down lane. Cars flew by them completely unnoticed.
"Need I remind you that I'm a fucking genius? I know how to change a flat."
Elena stood with her arms crossed and glared at Diego. She'd been in the process of pulling out the spare tyre when he'd appeared at her shoulder, telling her he'd do it.
"What, I can't do something nice for my girl?"
"Not when your desire to do so stems from your warped, much-outdated need to 'be the man'."
Diego ignored her and pulled the spare tyre out of the boot along with the car jack.
"Have you forgotten what century we live in?" she asked. "It's the fucking 21st century, Arturi. A century in which women can not only vote, but run for fucking office. A century in which women have equal rights. A century in which women can be the fucking CEO of a Fortune 500 if they want to be. And, oh yeah, a century in which women don't need a man to come to their rescue whenever they need something changed or fixed."
"Fuck you ramble a lot."
"And I'll continue to do so until you move your skinny ass away from that wheel."
Diego set about removing the wheel's lugs.
"What the fuck is it with you? Why do you always have to be the one to do all the fixing? And this isn't a man thing, it's a fucking you thing. Last week, I was in the middle of changing a light bulb – a fucking light bulb, Arturi – and you swooped in and did it for me. Do you know many bulbs I changed before I met you? Dozens. Fuck, probably more."
"Jesus Christ, why do you have to fucking ramble all the time? You can't say what you want to say in 10 words or less?" Diego shook his head in frustration.
"If you want me to stop rambling, Arturi, all you need to do is move outta the fucking way and let me change my flat tyre."
"For fuck's sake, fine!" Diego stood up and thrust the tyre iron at Elena. "There. Change the damn tyre." He stalked over to the passenger side door, pulled it open, slid into his seat, and slammed it shut.
Elena changed the tyre in record time and then slid back behind the wheel. She didn't start the engine straight away, choosing instead to punch Diego in the arm.
"What the fuck was that for?" he exclaimed.
"Being a fucking jerk."
"Yeah well, right back at you."
When they were back on the road, Elena said, "You can change the tyres from now on. Bastards fucking ruin your nails." She held up her hand and Diego could see three broken nails at the tips of her slender fingers. He grinned. "Since you don't have beautiful nails like these to ruin, you can change the tyres. But you gotta let me keep the light bulb changing. I gotta get my man on somehow, you know."
Diego laughed. "You know I love to hear you ramble."
"Yeah well, I can't guarantee I'll be able to keep it to 10 words or less, but I'll try to keep it to under a 100." She looked over at him and smiled. "It's because I'm a journalist, you know. We all love to talk shit at length."
"You can talk shit to me any time."
"So we got a deal?"
"We got a deal."
"Thank fucking God."
A few minutes later, Diego reached over and placed his hand on her thigh, giving it a quick squeeze. Elena dropped her hand to his and slid her fingers between his.
They stayed like that for a long while.
"I'm dying!" Diego groaned for the fifty-billionth time that hour. He was sprawled on his back across their bed, covers pulled up to his chin, and a box of tissues at his head.
Elena snorted without bothering to look at him. "You're not dying. It's just a cold."
"It's more than just a cold. It feels like I'm dying."
"How the fuck would you know? You've never been dying before."
"Fine then. It feels like I've got a straw shoved up my nose and that's all I'm breathing through, and like someone's sand papering my throat every second of every minute. Happy?"
"Shit no. You think I enjoy picking up after you and listening to you cry like a fucking baby?"
"I'm not crying."
"You might as well be."
"I'm telling you, Elena, it's more than just a cold. It's probably pneumonia."
Elena rolled her eyes. "Please. It's not pneumonia."
"I think I know my own body a bit better than you."
"By all means, Dr. Arturi, enlighten me as to why you believe it's pneumonia and not just your ordinary, run-of-the-fucking-mill cold."
Diego glared at her as she stood there with her arms folded across her chest – her favourite stance whenever she was pissed at him – her mouth set in a very thin line, and strands of her blonde, curly hair falling out of her haphazard bun.
"You can't, can you?" she said with a smug grin. "You know I'm right."
"Why do you always have to be right? And why do you always have to gloat on those rare occasions when you are right?"
"Why do you always have to revert back to being a fucking five-year-old when you get sick?" she fired back. "Fucking dying people – actual dying people – complain way less than you."
Diego sat up and grabbed the phone off of their bedside table.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"Proving you wrong."
"What?"
Diego ignored her as the person he'd called answered their phone. "Yes, hi, I'd like to make an appointment to see Dr. Cole."
"Oh, you've gotta be fucking kidding me," Elena muttered, shaking her head.
"Great, see you soon." Diego dropped the phone on the bed. "Help me change," he said, standing up slowly.
Elena took him to the doctor's office, but didn't go into the doctor's room with him. It was bad enough that she'd had to breathe in his germs while they were driving over (and will have to do so on their way home); she didn't see the need to increase her chances of catching his cold – because that's all it was – even more by confining herself to yet another small space with him.
When Diego was finished, he didn't tell her what the verdict was. In fact, he didn't tell her until they'd returned home; though, that had more to do with the fact that, on the drive home, he spent most of the time hacking up his lungs, than it did with his need to keep her in suspense, which he liked to do often. When he was back in their bed, she stood over him, waiting.
"What?" he asked innocently.
"Cut the shit, Arturi. You know what."
He smiled and looked away. "You were right after all. It's just a cold."
Elena fought the urge to gloat. Instead, she picked up where she'd left off an hour ago – picking up after him.
Diego watched her sweep a bunch of used tissues into a plastic bag. "What, you're not going to gloat?"
"Contrary to your belief, I don't fucking gloat when I'm right," she said, turning her back to him.
"Yes, you fucking do, and you know it." He sat up quickly, snaking his arm around her waist and pulling her into bed with him.
"Keep your fucking germs away from me, Arturi!" she yelled, twisting in his arms and shoving against his chest.
"Woo, that made me dizzy," Diego muttered, lying back down against the pillows Elena had propped up for him.
"Serves you bloody right," she said, pulling herself upright. "Jerk."
"You love me."
"Fuck if I know why."
She grabbed the plastic bag and headed out the door. Diego's voice followed her. "Oh come on! Not gonna gloat even a little? I promise I'll stop complaining...!"
Elena spun on her heel, stalked back to the door, and poked her head around it. "I told you it was just a fucking cold!"
"Love you, too, babe."
Elena smiled to herself when she heard Diego's laughter turn into a short coughing fit. Pneumonia, my ass, she thought, as she set about making him some soup.
Stage Three: The Disappointment
The problem in this stage is that as a couple, you believe that arguments are bad but you are angry at each other anyway. Some of the anger can be over trivial things and since you don't realize that conflict can be healthy, you wonder if this relationship is doomed. In fact, you likely have thoughts of breaking up.
"Christ, Elena, what's the big deal?"
"You know I don't like PDA."
She stormed through their apartment door, dumping her handbag on the coffee table, as she made her way to the kitchen. She needed a drink.
"We were in a movie theatre," Diego argued. "A dark movie theatre."
"So?"
"So? So no one saw us doing anything."
"That's not the point."
"Then what the fuck is?"
"You know I don't like PDA, Arturi." She came back into the living room, her drink forgotten. "You know being all over each other in public weirds me out."
"All over each other? I was not all over you."
"You were totally feeling me up."
"What?! No I wasn't."
Elena stared at him in disbelief. "What the fuck do you mean, 'No I wasn't'? You had your hands all over me."
"I had one hand on your thigh working its way to your ass, and my other hand was on your waist. I was not feeling you up."
"Same diff."
"No, actually, it's a completely different diff."
"Yeah, well, I'm pretty sure one of your hands was on its way to my boob."
Diego threw his arms up in the air. "Fuck, Elena, it's not like I dropped my fucking pants and started pounding into you right there and then."
"As good as!"
They stared at each other, both pissed off. "Why do you always have to be so touchy-feely in public, anyway? What, you don't get enough of it here?"
"Why do you hate it so much?" Diego countered.
"I told you, it weirds me out. You might as well just invite people over to watch us fucking."
"Maybe I will!"
Diego stormed into the bedroom slamming the door shut behind him. A minute later, he stormed right back out. "I am not all over you when we're in public. So I like to hold your hand or kiss you in front of other people or hell, wrap my arm around your waist – you're my girlfriend. Big fucking deal!"
"It's a big fucking deal to me! It makes me uncomfortable!"
"So, what, I'm not allowed to touch you in public, ever?" Diego yelled. "What, do I have to keep a few feet away from you when we're walking down the street? No really, Elena, tell me what I can and can't do to you when there are other people around!"
"God, Arturi, you're acting like this is the first time you're hearing about me not liking PDA, but I distinctly remember back in high school, me telling you pretty much the same thing!"
"Well forgive me for thinking that after four years, you might have grown out of it!"
"I told you right from the start that I wasn't that kind of girl! That I wasn't the gift-giving, flower-loving, candle-lighting, chocolate-eating kind of girl you were probably used to! Don't you fucking stand there yelling at me like I wasn't upfront with you right from the start!"
"Well maybe you're not the girl for me, then!" Diego fired back. "Maybe what I need to do is find a girl who actually likes it when I show a bit of affection for her! Even when there are other people around!"
"Well then, maybe you do!"
Diego stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door shut behind him. Elena stood rooted to the spot for five minutes before grabbing her bag and storming out herself.
It was late when Diego finally came back to the apartment. He walked in and found Elena sitting on the couch watching TV, her feet propped up on the coffee table. She glanced up at him as he shut and locked the door. Dropping his keys on the table by the door, he walked around their corner couch and sat down next to her. After a minute, Elena leaned forward and grabbed a plastic bag off of the coffee table, placing it in his lap.
Diego emptied the bag's contents. Inside was the Ramones CD Elena had thrown out his car window when they were still in high school, and which he had been trying to get another copy of, as well as a signed vinyl record of the Ramones' self-titled album.
"Where the hell did you find this?" Diego asked, amazed. He studied the signatures of the band members.
"In a fucking seedy ass, disgusting, shithole part of town. I'm pretty sure I caught three STDs just walking through it."
Diego smiled. "I thought you weren't one for romance."
"I'm not," she snapped. "But I'm not a heartless bitch like you seem to think I am."
"I don't think you're heartless."
"But you do think I'm a bitch?"
"Maybe sometimes."
"Yeah well, you're a fucking jerk a lot of the time."
They caught each other's eyes and smiled.
"You know, before my parents split up, they were never very affectionate with each other in front of me," Elena said, looking away. "And every guy I ever dated in high school before you – it never lasted long, so it never got to the PDA stage of things."
"Elena..."
"I don't mind you touching me in public, but I just want you to know that sometimes, you go too far and it makes me uncomfortable." She turned her head to look at him again. "But it doesn't mean I don't want you."
Diego nodded. "Okay." He put the albums aside and reached for her, pulling her across his body until she was straddling his legs. He kissed her, pressing his lips hard against hers. "I don't mind not being affectionate with you in public," he said against her lips. "It just means I get to save it all up for when we're behind closed doors. And look – we're behind closed doors." He smiled at her cheekily.
"The curtains are open," Elena stated, looking out at the landing outside their aparment. Anyone walking past would see them.
"Oh come on," he teased. "Live a little."
Elena looked down at him. Then, pulling her shirt up her body and over her head, she proceeded to do just that.
But just as Diego had rolled her onto her back, she pushed him back, sat up, and pulled the curtains together.
"That's my girl," Diego laughed, pushing her back down on the couch and kissing her.
Elena punched him playfully in the stomach. She'd live a little another day. Maybe.
Stage Four: The Commitment
In this stage, you are truly a team. You have chosen to be with your partner, flaws and all. You no longer miss the romance stage because that would mean being with a new person and you don't want that. You have a vision for the future together as a couple and if dating, it is the stage where you can get married and feel comfortable with that decision.
Elena had been waiting all week for her letter to arrive, and finally, it was here. She ripped it open, reading its contents at break-neck speed. "Fuck yes!" she yelled, locking the mailbox and running back up to the apartment. She practically fell through the door, running into the kitchen.
"You got it?" Diego asked, turning around to look at her.
"I fucking got it!"
Diego cheered as she jumped into his arms. "Let me see it, let me see it!" Elena handed him the letter and watched as his eyes flew across the page, his smile widening. He looked up at her when he was done. "Babe, I am so proud of you." He gathered her in his arms and kissed her until she couldn't breathe.
"Please," she joked. "Like there was even the slightest possibility that I wouldn't get it." She stared down at the letter in her hands. She was going to London to work for The Guardian newspaper and she couldn't be happier.
"So when do we leave?" Diego asked, as he finished stacking their dishwasher.
"Well, I've got to be at the paper on the 15th, and I've got my graduation on the 6th, plus I've got to find somewhere to live, so I guess – Wait, did you just say 'we'?"
"Well yeah." He straightened up to look down at her. "You didn't seriously think you were going without me, did you?"
Elena shrugged. "It's not like we've discussed it."
"Okay, so let's discuss it now. Do you want me to come with you?"
She looked at him with her usual 'Well duh' expression. "Of course I want you to come."
"Then it's settled. I'm coming with."
"What about your job?"
"Being a mechanic means I can work anywhere. Cars are pretty much the same wherever you go, and what I don't know, I'll pick up. I'm a genius like that."
"Is that what you want, though?" she asked looking at him seriously. "Pack up your life and move to another country? It's a big step. Both individually and as a couple."
"In case the last five years haven't been indication enough, let me explain it in such a way that I know you'll understand. Remember way back when, we were sitting on the hood of my car talking about life and everything in it?"
"Yeah..."
"I told you then that if I ever got married, I'd make sure it stuck until the day I die. That I wasn't going to end up like my dad."
"I remember."
"What I didn't tell you then, 'cos I knew you'd freak out, was that I was about 70% sure that I'd already found the woman I wanted to marry."
Elena smiled. "And how sure are you now?"
"100%." Diego looked down at her. "You're not surprised?"
Elena rolled her eyes. "Of course not. Christ, Arturi, who wouldn't want to marry me?"
Diego laughed, pulling her towards him. "Get your ass over here."
"And FYI, I so would not have freaked if you had told me that. If I remember correctly – which I do – you were practically proposing to me that day anyway. I didn't need to be a fucking genius to realise you had it bad for me. Also - "
He shook his head at her, wrapped his arms around her waist, pulled her up against his chest and kissed her until she lost the will to speak. They stood there in each other's arms for what seemed like hours.
"I love you, Diego," Elena whispered against his lips.
He smiled and tightened his hold on her. "I love you, too."
Fin.
AN: I'm kind of ridiculously proud of this one-shot - especially since I've been working on perfecting it for quite awhile now - so any comments you have about it, would be much appreciated! Thanks :)
Credit for the information about the different stages of a relationship goes to a couple of sites I found through a Google search.