AN: Not actually timeline appropriate for a collection called Newlywed's. This is their 30th Wedding Anniversary and it might be my favourite Wessa drabble of them all.

"things you said under the stars and in the grass"

Tessa lay on her back and stared at the darkening sky. She might look like a girl but she was a grown woman with two children and grown ladies did not lie on their backs on the ground and ruin their dresses with sea water and grass stains. Not that she cared in that moment what anyone might think of her and her respectability. She smiled up at the crystal clear night before shimmying across the scrubby seaside grass to lay her head on Will's shoulder.

"This was better," he said.

"This was perfect," she agreed.

The sound of the waves against the shore and the crickets in the grass were the only thing she could hear over his heartbeat. They could have been the only people on earth. There was a basket of half eaten food in the sand by the shore. On her wrist was the newly re-strung bracelet he had given her so many years ago that she had spent a week fretting over having lost only to have him return it with a ceremony and a smirk. Each pearl had a memory he claimed, all strung together with the marriage rune. Years of memories for years of marriage.

"30 years is a long time," she said.

"Give me 30 more and I'll still not be done with you," he said pulling her in a little closer while she laughed, "Give me a hundred and I'll love you more at the end of it than I do right now."

They had gotten married in the spring of 1879 in a ceremony that had been more about the politics of Clave Society than it had been about the two of them. They had joked, for years they had joked, that they should have eloped on a beach somewhere instead. Now in the spring of 1909, he'd brought her to a beach in Greece where the Aegean sea still whispered about the history of the Romans, and they'd thrown their own wedding.

Just the two of them.

They'd repeated old vows that they still meant as much now as they had at 18 and they made up new ones about love and age and grandchildren and new challenges they hadn't expected when they were younger. Then they had dared each other out into the cold water and whispered about the best days of their marriage while her skirts had swirled around their ankles. He'd picked flowers and stuck them into her hair all akimbo until she looked, in his estimation, like a deranged wood sprite. She'd retaliated by filling his shoes with sand which had set of the chase that ended here. Barefoot and sprawled in the grass by the sea shore with the sky laid out like a tapestry above them.

She rolled up over to him and leaned down so they were nose to nose. Her skirts were still wet and cold and clinging and there was sand and bits of grass still in her hair. She felt young and foolish and catastrophically in love.

"People have been wishing their dreams on stars for centuries but you are mine brought down and made real. The dream I could never stop myself from dreaming," Tessa said to him.

"The first dream of my soul," he finished and kissed her.