a/n: this is a collection of various one-shots of jackson and scott. most is in an established relationship after the first season some time. please comment if you want more. if you're interested in au, "what ireland taught me" is another one of my stories. and i never finished a series called "phases". jsyk.

i will post what rating the chapter is in a letter at the top of each, like this one is "PG-13"

disclaimer: this story is a complete work of fiction and is in no way based on true events or the true sexuality of the actors mentioned. copyright of mtv and mtv networks.


God, he's so insanely beautiful in the morning. The sun streams in through the window across from our bed, where it captures little bits of light in the dew from the spring mornings, a slight chill running against my uncovered shoulder. His face is still, he's sleeping so soundly but there's no way I can resist reaching out to run the back of my hand over the smooth expanse of his face. The feather light touch doesn't wake him but he makes this incoherent noise in his throat as he shifts in my arms, burrowing closer into my body, hugging himself to me. His dark lashes fan across his cheeks and I take a moment to admire him in such a peaceful sleep. The lips that are usually formed in a bright smile lay still and slightly parted as he sleeps. His left hand splayed over my chest, I marvel briefly at the silver band encircling his finger. I push some brown hair from his face, kissing his forehead gently before lying back into the white linens that contrast so perfectly with his coffee colored skin.

Here—wrapped in everything that he is— I can't help but remember everything we've had to go through to get to this moment. Our younger years when we were rivals competing for all the wrong reasons to the day we finally accepted who we were. A flood of images come to mind; him knocking me down on the lacrosse field, our first fist fight, our first detention together, our first kiss, the first time I saw him as something other than human, our second and third and fourth kiss, the time I had to break up with Lydia, the dinner with his mom—and the dinner with my mom, our first real date, our first time—slightly rushed with a little pain on a summer night beneath the crescent moon, when I slid the silver band onto his ring finger, and of course many warm mornings like this one.

My thoughts urge me to get up and make coffee so he won't complain about the lack of when he wakes but part of me can't bear to rouse him when he looks so peaceful. My heart ached the first time he told me "I hate waking up alone" so I try not to leave him in the morning but sometimes it is inevitable but I always leave a note.

Several minutes go by while I silently admire him. My hands run over the warm expanse of his side and dip into the waistband of his sleep-pants. My hand gently rubs soothing circles over his exposed hip. He is relatively motionless before he begins to stir and yawn, blinking and rubbing the sleep from his eyes before he flops back down onto my chest. I hurt a little the way he's putting his weight on me but I don't mind. His chocolate brown eyes stare into mine and I smile to him.

"Morning, Tiger." I say and my voice is more gravely than I expected. I clear my throat sitting up to lean against our numerous throw pillows. He props up a bit but he remains curled into my chest.

"Morning, Jacks." He says before leaning up to capture my lips. We remain kissing for a minute enjoying the way we taste in the morning. I smile as he pulls away, his eyes still closed as he yawns again and sits up, his frame shivering at the cold morning air against his exposed skin. I pull the covers up over him, my blue eyes tracing him. He blushes and looks away. He hates when I stare at him like that. But I can't help it.

He laughs and my heart thumps a million times a minute. One thing I've learned about Scott, is that once he's awake he's fully awake for the rest of the day. He smiles at me before jumping out of bed and grabbing a black hoodie off the back of a chair in the bedroom before zipping it up and he heads to the bathroom. His hair is messy and sticking out in all different directions, it's cute and I can't stop a small snort from escaping me. "Scott," I call out after him. He peeks his head back around the corner of the bathroom—he's adorable with wide brown eyes and a blue toothbrush hanging out of one side of his mouth. I laugh and get up and pull on some pale blue boxers (I'm quite accustomed to sleeping nude). The boxers were a pair Scott had originally bought me to keep at his house when I stayed the night that I could change into in the morning. He wanted me to have something of my own at his house. We were cute like that in our younger days. They quickly became my favorite pair.

Scott went back to brushing his teeth and I padded into the bathroom and hugged him around his waist, kissing his neck. "I love you."

He looks at me and rolls his eyes before spitting into the sink and washing away the remnants. He watches to make sure all of it swirls down the drain before smiling to me with a fresh smile. "Love you too, Jacks." He pulls me close, kissing me. The taste of fresh peppermint invading my senses as he tilts his head and teases me with his tongue. I smile and laugh a little teasing back as we lean against the countertop.

This is my morning with Scott McCall-Whittemore. Not every one is the same. But this is my favorite way to spend time with him, reminding myself of all the reasons I love him.