You're watching the sun rise over the California landscape, and you reflect on how different it is from Vegas sunrises. In Vegas, the sun rises in a great blazing ball of light, drowning out the neon glitter under its harsh rays. Here in California, it almost seems as though the sun has mellowed in its trek from the desert to the coast. You shiver and shake your head. You were so accustomed to the quick warm-ups back home, you'd honestly forgotten that it took other places longer to warm to where it was comfortable for your t-shirt and boxer clad body. Rising from the porch swing, you silently turn the knob and pad barefoot back into your childhood 'home,' the B-and-B your parents still run. Your parents won't be up yet, but your body is still accustomed to being up all night, so you've been up for a few hours by now. You'll take a nap later on, most likely in the afternoon, after the guests were either gone or had taken a brief trip into San Francisco.

You hear someone puttering around in the kitchen and you smile. He was up, even though you had left him sleeping in it. You envied how easily he could slip between the night and the daytime, but he always went with you to take a nap, joking how the both of you slept better when he was there beside you. You both always woke up around seven, just as the sun was starting to slip down over the horizon, as if your bodies were hardwired to wake as darkness was seeping over the land. A couple of times he woke before you did, and he woke you in turn by planting soft kisses all over your face and neck. Even when you were back home, it always wound up being the prelude to a leisurely love-making session.

Walking down the hall, past the dining room where your parents would serve breakfast in a few hours, you pass the stairs that led upstairs to the private apartments and turned left into the kitchen. You could see him standing in front of the stove, the delicious smell of eggs wafting to your nose. Leaning against the open doorway, you take a moment to drink in the sight of his tall, lean body, his mocha skin beckoning your fingers to explore it once more, to discover more of the secrets it contained. The tattoo circling his left bicep stood out like a siren's call, and instead of marring the beauty of his skin, as so many tattoos were wont to do, it subtly enhanced it. You could spend hours looking at him, and hours more just touching him.

Leaving the doorway, you move towards him, making some noise so you wouldn't startle him, even though you knew that he probably knew that you were standing there all along. You come up behind him and wrap your arms around the body you were admiring just a short minute ago. Curving against his back, you breathe in his scent, a subtle smell that belongs to him alone.

"Hey Sara," he says, not taking his eyes off the cooking eggs in front of him. "Food's almost done."

"Smells good," you compliment while grabbing a large plate from the counter behind you. "What are you fixing?"

"One of my monster omelets," he replies.

Your stomach growls approvingly, and you once again bless his grandmother for having the patience and discipline to teach him how to cook. Since your cooking skills were practically non-existent to begin with, he did most of the cooking when you were back home. He easily slid the omelets from the skillet to the plate and you grabbed a couple of forks. You both quickly eat the omelets, your empty stomachs reminding you of your late night activities. Although you'd been sleeping together for over a year, and you had been living in his home for the last four months, it seemed as though you both couldn't get enough of each other's bodies. Setting the dirty dishes into the dishwasher, you rise up and immediately feel his arms wrap around you. You turn in his arms and move even closer to him, feeling his body react to yours. You stare into his green eyes, reading all you need to know in them. His head lowered and your eyes fluttered shut as his lips came into contact with yours. The kiss predictably deepened as soon as his tongue ran over your lips. You were pressed so tightly against his body that if anyone was looking in on you, they wouldn't be able to see the rising sun out of the window right behind you, but only the halo of light surrounding you both.

When the need for air became overpowering, you break off the kiss, breathing hard. You subtly shift your hips against him, loving the feel of his arousal trapped between your bodies.

"Let's go back to bed, Warrick," you say quietly. "We don't have to be up for another few hours."

He didn't answer, just led you out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

-fini