A/N: each section corresponds to a verse of the song "Bus Stop" by The Hollies. I originally had the lyrics printed before each section, but someone decided to bust me for copyright infringement. So, if you're a writer who has songfic with lyrics on here, be on your guard. I've included a link to the song on YouTube at the bottom.

xXx

It's raining. Again. I've gotten into the habit of carrying my umbrella with me constantly this summer it's been so wet. I glance at my watch and sigh, just having missed the previous bus. That means nine minutes. Nine minutes of standing here in the damp. But at least it's not dripping on my head.

A young woman walks quickly up, holding a newspaper over her head of dark curls. She's cute. I risk another glance. Very cute. Should I? She's getting soaked. Gathering up my courage, I walk the three steps to her and say, "Please, share my umbrella."

"Thank you," she says, stepping in close. She glances at her newspaper. Ruined. She sighs, and tosses it in the bin nearby.

She is close enough that I can smell her. And she smells good. "I'm Arthur," I tell her. She looks up at me and smiles. Her eyes, beautiful almond-shaped eyes of translucent brown, like a warm cup of honeyed tea, catch mine for a moment. My heart stutters.

"Guinevere. But most people call me Gwen," she says, offering me her hand to shake. I'm holding the umbrella with my right hand, so I awkwardly shake her right hand with my left. "Guinevere," I repeat. I love how her name feels on my tongue.

"Your hand is cold," I say, looking for an excuse to hold onto it. I don't want to let go. I don't know why.

"Yours isn't," she says, looking down at our joined hands, one tan, one pink. Is she breathing heavier? Suddenly embarrassed by my behavior, I release her hand.

"Oh. Sorry."

"Don't be." She looks shyly up at me again. She smiles, and I forget to breathe.

xXx

"This is really very kind of you," she says.

"No trouble. Are you staying dry enough?" I ask, inching slightly closer to her. She doesn't back away. In fact, she inches closer herself.

"I am, but I think that man," she points to an older man hunched in a trench coat, "may be less than thrilled with you right about now."

"There's not enough room under here for three," I say, and she laughs with me. Her laughter is like music.

I glance at my watch again. Suddenly the bus can take its time. Five more minutes.

"Do you live around here?" she asks, transferring her laptop bag to her other shoulder.

"Yes, just a few blocks that way," I point to the left with my thumb. "You?"

"A few blocks that way," she smiles again, and points to the right with her thumb. "I take this bus every morning. I've never seen you before."

"I usually catch the one before this one, but I was running a little behind this morning. And if the weather is nice, I bike to work."

Did she just check me out? Yes, I think she did.

"Do you work in the city?" I ask, and as she turns her head back toward me I am distracted by her scent again.

"Yes, at the hospital. I'm an orthopedic surgeon."

Wow. A doctor. "Well that explains the cold hands," I say.

"How's that?"

"Don't doctors always have cold hands?" I grin devilishly down at her, enjoying waiting for the bus more than I ever have. She laughs again.

"So what do you do with your warm hands?" she asks me. I raise an eyebrow at her, knowing what she meant but not willing to let it pass.

"Oh! Um… that didn't come out right, did it? What I meant was…" she stammers, blushing most attractively.

"I know what you meant, but it was too good," I laugh. "I am also in the health care field. Sort of."

"Sort of?"

"You know Dragon Fitness? That's my health club."

"Yours as in you go there or you work there?"

"Um, I own it." I promise I'm not bragging. Honest, I'm not.

"That's a very popular gym," she says, sounding impressed.

"We're having a good year, yes. And hey, now I know exactly who to go see if I blow out my knee one day."

The bus arrives. She looks at it, and hesitates. I scowl at the bus, as if it is interrupting us intentionally. I look down at her, and she looks up at me.

"I can wait for the next one," I say softly, hoping.

"Me, too," she says, and my heart leaps. I give a wave to the ever-impatient bus driver. Move along. Did she just come a little closer?

We did take the next bus, and sat together until her stop, where we were forced to part. I looked for her on the ride home. When the bus stopped by the hospital, I almost got off to go find her.

But I didn't want to look like a stalker. I'll have to make sure to run a little late again tomorrow morning.

xXx

I'm very careful to make it to the bus stop at the same time as yesterday. It's not raining today, but I've got my umbrella nevertheless. Because it might.

I wait, trying to appear casual. Trying not to look like I'm looking for her, even though I am.

I am just about to despair when she appears. She glances at me shyly, smiling. I smile back, and I realize that my mind is blank. I don't know what to do. I don't want to appear over-eager, but I don't want her to think I'm not interested.

So I open my umbrella over my head, and look her way. She bites back a smile as I raise my eyebrows in invitation.

"Hi," she says, slipping her hand into mine. It's still cold but it feels so good. I am very glad that I thought to hold the umbrella in my other hand.

"Your hand is still cold," I grin, my stomach flipping happily.

"And yours is still warm," she says, and I stroke the back of her hand with my thumb. Her skin is unbelievably soft and her hand fits in mine perfectly.

xXx

"What time do you go home?" I finally ask the next week. Somehow the umbrella gives us a feeling of privacy, intimacy on the busy street corner.

"It varies," she says.

"Okay. What time are you going to be going home… today?" More specific, then.

"My last appointment is at four. So I would guess around five. What time are you done work?"

"Whenever I feel like going home. Today feels like… around five."

"Maybe you'll see me on the bus home."

"I'd like that very much."

"Maybe you'll… decide to walk a different way home… accidentally turn the opposite direction…" her voice is quiet, as if she's not sure how I'll react to what she's suggesting.

"Like, go that way," I point my thumb towards her home, "instead of that way?" I point my thumb back to the left.

She looks up at me through her lashes, biting her lower lip. She nods. "Maybe we could stop and pick up dinner on the way," she suggests shyly.

Yes. Yes. This wasn't how I was envisioning this conversation, but yes. In my mind, I was going to ask her to dinner, but I'll take this.

On impulse, I lean down and kiss her once, gently, lingering on her lips, savoring their taste. "Sounds wonderful."

xXx

"What have you got there?" She has a shopping bag along with her laptop today.

"I've been out early, shopping," she says, coming to stand beneath my umbrella. It is actually drizzling a little today, so we don't look that odd for a change.

"What did you buy?" I crane my neck to try and peer into the bag, and she laughs.

"Really exciting things." She digs into the bag. "Some Tylenol," she shows me the bottle and drops it back inside.

"Ooo."

"A nail file for my office. I keep breaking nails and then I get a ragged edge, which tears through the gloves, and…"

"Got it. It's not for vanity, but necessity. And safety."

"Right. Let's see. Ooo, dental floss," she flashes the small parcel briefly, then, "and some socks," she shows me a brief glimpse of a pair of white cotton athletic socks.

"You are a wild woman," I tease.

"And… aha, Post-it notes, and, oh… never mind," she says, hurriedly closing the bag back up and putting it back on her shoulder.

"What?" Now I'm intrigued.

"Nothing you need be concerned with."

"Oh, now I'm really curious." And I am. Perhaps I shouldn't be. Who knows, it could be something horrifying, like tampons or hemorrhoid cream, or…

"Just… nothing. Nope, nothing else purchased by me this morning."

"Guinevere…" I cajole, drawing her name out.

She looks at me, surprised and… aroused? Did I do that? Just by saying her name?

"I bought a new pair of knickers," she admits, blushing. "But I am not taking them out of this bag to show you."

Perhaps I'll get to see them another time…

"I notice you didn't buy yourself an umbrella," I say casually, choosing to change the subject before I drive myself mad with my own imagination.

"Why on earth would I do that?"

xXx

"That woman keeps giving us strange looks," Gwen whispers to me, giggling into my shoulder.

"Well, we are standing under an umbrella and it's not raining. Or even particularly sunny." I put my arm around her shoulders, and she leans into my side. I kiss the top of her head and smile into her hair.

I love her. I know this now. I probably knew it from the moment I looked into those eyes of hers.

"Will you come over tonight?" I ask her.

"Yes." She leans up and grants me a kiss. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the old woman that Gwen pointed out earlier smile in spite of herself.

xXx

We walk to the bus stop together some mornings, either from her flat or mine, depending on which direction we've chosen to walk home the previous night. Not every morning, as our evening schedules don't always coincide.

But I try. Every day I try. I always look for her on my way home. Some of the other regular passengers watch me, knowing that I'm looking for her. I don't care if they think me a silly, lovesick fool; a lost puppy looking for his mistress. Each moment I can spend with her is worth all the odd looks and whispers we get standing at the bus stop under an unnecessary umbrella.

xXx

"I've been shopping," I tell her one morning. It is a bright sunny morning, and still we stand under my umbrella.

"Oh? New y-fronts for you?" she teases.

"No, I haven't been shopping for underwear." I laugh, but I'm nervous.

"What, then?" she asks. "I don't see a shopping bag…" she peeks around me, looking.

"Hold this, please," I hand her the umbrella and lower myself down on one knee before her. She gasps.

"Guinevere, that rainy day I was running late was the best day of my life, because it was the day I met you. I love you more than I can say. I simply don't have the words. Will you make today and every day the best day of my life by saying yes?" I pull a small black velvet box from my pocket and open it for her. "Will you marry me, Guinevere?"

By now we have an audience. There are three other people waiting for the bus with us, and passers-by are also staring. Cars slow as they drive past. I'm making a spectacle of myself and I don't care.

Gwen drops the umbrella and tackles me, throwing her arms around my neck. I lose my balance and land on my bum on the concrete, but I don't feel it because all I feel is her arms around me and all I hear is her voice as it whispers, "Yes, Arthur, yes!" again and again in my ear.

I laugh with joy and wrap my arms around her holding her to me, sitting on the sidewalk like a fool. Vaguely I realize people are applauding, and Gwen pulls away, blushing furiously, but smiling widely. I take the ring out of the box and slide it onto her finger.

She leans over and kisses me, and I feel happier than I can remember. I pull her into my arms again, deepening the kiss, aware of nothing but her as the bus drives off without us once again.

The umbrella tumbles down the sidewalk, pushed by the wind, forgotten for the moment.

Song (change the underscores to periods):

www_youtube_com/watch?v=It75wQ0JypA