There are a number of things in life that have the potential to lose their novelty with unparalleled haste. There's that song you listened to obsessively for a week straight that you can no longer stand. Or that toy you absolutely had to have as a kid; the one that ended up under the bed in the company of dust bunnies as soon as something better came along. Hell, maybe you even tried eating chocolate cake for dessert every night when you were finally an adult and there was no one around to tell you that doing so is in fact a terrible idea…

It's funny, how quickly humans as a species can develop this overwhelming sense of ennui. How something that was once thrilling, can suddenly become almost unbearably mundane. How we consume and obsess over and then almost immediately discard so much of our existence with unbelievable ease.

Fortunately for Emma, waking up next to Killian isn't one of those things.

And maybe that's the whole point of love.

When you love someone or something, truly care for them and find joy in all that they are, in all that something has to offer, maybe that love is what keeps the novelty from wearing off. Maybe that love is why she gladly starts each morning by waking up at the crack of dawn to shovel horse shit. And maybe that love is why, after over four years of waking up next to Killian, she finds it all just as fulfilling now as it was at the start.

Soft light filters in through the canvas of the tepee, the chilly dampness of a mid-October morning attempting to permeate the barrier as gentle rain falls in peaceful cadence beyond. Stretching, luxuriating in the warmth of combined body heat within the oversized sleeping bag, Emma slowly opens her eyes to the sight of Killian still sleeping soundly beside her.

It's early yet, the sun still lingering just below the horizon, and even when it does make its inevitable ascent, Emma doesn't expect to see it behind the thick cloud cover and drizzling rain that's forecasted throughout the day and well into tomorrow night. They'd known what they were getting into though; camping in the midst of predictably rainy October weather, so they'd packed accordingly, bringing extra clothes and waterproof layers.

Stretching again, unable to ignore the call of nature any longer, Emma quickly and quietly slips from the sleeping bag without waking Killian. He stirs briefly, grumbling in his sleep as she tucks her pyjama pants into her rain boots, but has settled again by the time she's knotted the mess of her hair atop her head and pulled on an extra layer beneath her raincoat.

Chilly air greets her as she steps outside, closing the flap of the tepee behind her. Nala, her trusty golden steed, and Killian's most recent auction purchase, a big black gelding named Roger, nicker at her from within the shelter of the run-in. She calls out to them softly in greeting, and then goes about her business, working to get a fire started beneath the overhanging branches of several large pine trees.

The clearing doesn't look all that much different now than it did nearly four and a half years ago, but new canvases installed back in the spring do mean that the tepees look a little less weatherworn. There's also the additional fire pit that she's using now, built two summers ago beneath the shelter of the trees and reserved specifically for rainy days like this when the risk of wildfire is especially low.

Back home at the ranch, though, things have changed much more drastically. They've added a twelve stall addition onto the barn and a new sand ring to deal with a booming growth in business, on both the ranch and lesson end of things. With her mother and father slowly backing out of the family business to travel and enjoy their retirement, Emma now has two ranch hands that work full-time during the busy summer months, and part-time for the remainder of the year.

Over the last year and a half, Killian and her father have slowly but surely renovated the apartment. What was once the garage below, now houses a larger kitchen and living room as well as an additional bathroom next to the laundry room. That means that the second floor is now home solely to their bedroom and bathroom, plus a spare room that currently serves as an office, a guest room, and only half-jokingly, a bedroom for the animals.

Duke passed back in March, at the end of a mild winter, and it wasn't long before Avast found a lost soul to lead home in the form of a scraggly orange tabby kitten that they ended up naming O'Malley. The lanky ginger makes a terrible barn cat, more interested in sunbathing and chasing shadows than mousing, but Avast loves him, and most nights the two of them curl up on the spare bed to sleep like the spoiled fur-children they admittedly are.

As far as actual children go, Emma hasn't really thought that far into the future yet. Mostly because she's still waiting on a proposal from Killian (even half-considering being the one to make the pitch herself), but also because she's having the time of her life running her parents' business and is still young enough to know that she has plenty of time. She knows that Killian would like to be a father at some point though, and she expects that one day, Avast and O'Malley will either have to give up their room or learn to share it with a child.

The thought makes her smile, but for now, as she sets water over the fire to boil for much needed coffee (a vice she suspects she'll loathe to give up), she's perfectly content with parenthood being little more than a future possibility.

Leaving the pot of water to come to a boil, she sets out some grain for the horses and grabs a bucket to refill their trough with water from the river. The sky is marginally brighter now, still grey, but somewhere behind all those rain clouds she knows that the sun has risen. Grabbing the instant coffee and two mugs from the tepee where they've stored their food, she returns to the fire and hunkers down on a damp log to mix up the beverage.

"Hey, sleepyhead!" she calls out, twisting her upper body in the direction of their tepee after she pours the steaming liquid into her mug. "Coffee's ready!"

Killian grumbles audibly – they really did stay up far too late last night making s'mores and watching the stars– but after a minute, she hears the sounds of stirring in the tepee. Smiling into her drink, she turns her attention toward the forest, watching as a chipmunk scurries up the slope of a fallen tree's trunk.

Emma's contemplating fetching the trail mix and seeing if she can entice the little guy to come closer when Killian finally emerges from the tepee. She doesn't turn to face him as he approaches, too busy allowing the heat from the fire to chase away the damp chill of the day, but when he stands behind her and presses a kiss to the side of her hood-covered head, she leans back against his legs and mumbles a "good morning."

And it's all perfectly lovely until he leans forward and somehow manages to pry the coffee mug out of her hands without spilling it.

"Killian, goddamnit, what the hell?! Get your own." she protests, whining as she tries to reach for the mug that contains her morning salvation.

But he just chuckles and holds it out of her reach as he presses something else into her searching hands. "This isn't funny," she tells him, still so fixated on reacquiring her coffee that it takes her a moment to realize that there's a box in her hand… a square box in dark green velvet. "Oh…"

Coffee totally forgotten, she twists to look up at him. "Is this what I think it is?"

"Just open the bloody box, love," he insists, groaning when she doesn't comply. "I'll return your coffee," he bribes, and Emma finally lifts the lid off the box to peek inside as he steps over the log to sit next to her.

Inside the box, a finely carved path of scrolling leaves adorns a delicate gold band. Amongst the leaves sits a smooth, square cut aquamarine, flanked on either side by two smaller, pale-green pieces of sea glass.

Lifting the ring carefully from the box, she studies it closely, completely and utterly speechless. If she's not mistaken, it contains polished fragments of the last piece of sea glass Killian ever picked up while walking the beach with his mother and brother.

"I thought about getting down on one knee," Killian tells her, "but the ground's rather muddy and I suspect you don't really care much for such ceremony."

An unstoppable smile spreads across her face as she slips the ring onto her finger. It fits perfectly. "Just to be clear; you are asking me to marry you, right?" she asks unnecessarily. "This isn't just a fancy piece of jewellery?"

Taking her hand in his, he meets her eyes. "Is that as yes?"

Glancing at her coffee mug that sits unattended on the makeshift table next to him, she grins. "Give me back my coffee and tell me why you destroyed that piece of sea glass to put it in this ring," she insists. "Then you can have your answer."

Killian picks up her coffee, takes a sip, and then hands it to her. "I wouldn't say destroyed, exactly. More like repurposed. The ring belonged to my mother, and to her mother before that," he tells her. "I only have vague memories of it as a child, but I was always fascinated by the colour of the stones. I'd thought it long lost until that day four years ago when Abi and I found the box of my father's keepsakes."

"You tried to convince her to keep it, didn't you?" Emma guesses.

"Aye," Killian nods, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "It seemed like the logical thing to do until my dear sister in-law pointed out that she already possessed my mother's engagement ring and that I ought to keep this one to give to you some day."

Emma bites back a smile; she's going to have to call Abi and thank her when they get home.

Shifting his grip on her hand, Killian brushes his thumb over the center stone, "This one is still the original, but unfortunately when we found the ring it wasn't in the best shape; the two smaller settings were empty, the stones long lost. I spoke with a jeweller not long after my return and he ensured me that he'd be happy to fill them with whatever gems I selected. I considered diamonds for a brief while, but it seemed a shame to sully something so unique with something so conventional." Finally, he shrugs. "Having the sea glass cut down to fit seemed like a more meaningful option."

Sitting her coffee aside, Emma covers Killian's hand with her own. "It's beautiful."

When she meets his gaze, his eyebrow ticks up in an unspoken question; it's one that she doesn't need to hear to understand, but he asks it anyway. "What do you say, love? Marry me?"

"Yeah, sure. Why not?" she teases, followed by a more serious and much more meaningful, "Yes." Grinning, she leans forward to kiss him, her coffee forgotten again in favour of the taste of his lips and the warmth of his embrace.

The rain picks up, thunder rumbling in the distance, and it doesn't escape her that many of the big moments in their relationship seem to happen during inclement weather. A gust of wind blows her hood from her head, a pattering of rain shaking from the pine trees, and that's when it hits her; he's been planning to propose to her for four years.

"I can't believe you kept this a secret all these years!" she exclaims, pulling back to look at him, a little bit amazed.

Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, he lifts her hood back into place. "What other choice did I have, love? You can't honestly tell me that if I'd asked you to marry me that night when I came home from Ireland, you'd have said yes. We both know it was far too soon."

"It was," she admits, attempting to pout. It's no use though. She studies the ring on her finger again and grins even as the rain falling past the trees dampens the flannel of her pyjama pants. Not a damn thing is going to wipe the smile off her face today. "So you've what? Just kept it hidden in your sock drawer for four years?"

"In a sock drawer, yes," he concedes, "but not mine. I didn't want to risk you coming across it accidentally if you decided to steal a pair of those thick wool socks of mine you love so much."

"They just don't make them the same way for women," she defends, and then, looking confused, asks, "Whose sock drawer, then?"

Killian gives her a rather pointed look that all but screams that the answer should be obvious. It takes her a moment to figure it out, but when she does, her jaw drops.

"You kept the ring in my parents' sock drawer!?"

Killian nods, barely suppressing laughter. "Technically your father's."

"So you're telling me that for the last four years my parents have known that at some point you intended to propose to me?"

Killian finally laughs. "To be fair, love, I think they'd have come to that conclusion on their own sooner rather than later, but if you must know, it was only your father I told about the ring. You know how terrible your mother is at keeping secrets; if I'd told her, she would have spent the next couple weeks acting strangely around you before finally ruining what I intended to be a very distant surprise."

Emma shakes her head incredulously. "What did he say when you told him? When did you tell him? He didn't threaten to shoot you, did he?"

"I told him a few weeks after my return, as soon as I got the ring back from the jeweller. Your mother had dragged you out shopping with instructions for Dave and I to have supper ready when you returned. I unfortunately told him while he was seasoning steaks; Duke ended up getting a nice meal out of the one that hit the kitchen floor."

Emma raises her eyebrows expectantly and shoves at his shoulder. "And?"

"He hugged me," Killian tells her, "flat out gave me his blessing and then laughed when I told him that I wasn't actually asking his permission, that the decision as to whether or not you'd eventually be my wife was to be entirely yours, not his."

Leaning forward, Emma presses a quick kiss to his lips before pulling back to study his face. A smile dimples his cheeks, tugging at the fine lines that surround the brilliant blue of his eyes. He looks happy.

"You're a smart man, Killian Jones."

"Oh, darling, believe me, I know," he boasts before his voice softens and his hands come up to cup her cheeks, his thumb tracing her lower lip. "After all, I fell in love with you, didn't I?"

A/N: I'm just going to apologise in advance for the length of this author's note.

I began writing this story on January 28th, 2015 at 3:59:45 PM (yes, that's the exact time-stamp on the original document), and at that time I had no clue that one little idea would take me on such an incredible journey. Over one year and 200,000 words later, I am both thrilled and a little bit sad to finally consider this piece complete.

As a horseback rider who is constantly amazed by the beauty and diversity of nature, this fic is incredibly dear to me in so many ways. I've always believed, more often than not, that it's the little moments in life that are to be treasured. Not everything has to be grand or dramatic to be worthwhile. Sometimes the simplest things are the most important, and that's something I hope I've captured while telling this story.

I've made so many incredible friends throughout the process of writing this fic and I need to thank all of you for your support and encouragement. You guys know who you are. Specifically though, I must thank Sarah (lifeinahole27) for being with me from almost the get-go; you've been an integral part of writing this fic in so many ways and I'm pretty sure I'm going to spend the rest of my life telling you how amazing you are. I must also thank Emma (nothandlingit) for her beta skills and her ability to let me know in the kindest way possible when I've gone and mucked up the English language.

And finally, I need to thank each and every one of my readers. I know I've been absolutely awful at replying to reviews for the last several months, but you guys have to know that I appreciate every single one of them so very much. (I swear I'm actually going to reply to this last batch because you all definitely deserve it!) And thank you for sticking by this story when the wait between chapters has been ridiculously long; you're all incredibly patient and wonderful human beings. So just thank you. So much.