No matter how long they were together, it never stopped being special. Horatio would have liked to say the longer they spent apart the greater the reunion, but he knew what it was like. It was like being deep underwater with an oxygen tank; it's fun in the beginning, but eventually the oxygen runs out. Long cases were hell on both of them. He because of the long nights without sleep, the gruesome scenes, and the horrid mounds of paperwork. She because he knew she watched t.v. and saw the same horrid things he did knowing he was there, and she waited up for him to be home. There were many times he walked in to find her passed out on the couch in her daytime clothes; those were the nights he would carry her down the hall and put her to bed, too scared of the nightmares to do anything but watch her sleep.

Meeting Lara Jordan had been a complete chance. He couldn't quite bring himself to thank the suspect, a man who had murdered an entire family including three children and didn't speak English, but he often came close. Lara was a linguist on special pay by the department. She was hardly ever needed, and Horatio found it quite sad her multi-tongued skills went to waste. It always brought a smile to his face when she would curse softly in multiple languages. One didn't have to know the language to get the gist of her words, not to mention she had the bad habit of blushing afterward. The entire team had celebrated by going out to dinner, and they asked Lara to come along. She had helped to break the case, after all. Eventually the numbers dwindled until only the two of them were left. That one didn't count as the first date, but it was the start of something powerful.

They had been dating for six months; that included fifteen dinners, three movies, and several dances. Then she had moved in with him, and though they were still dating by technical standards Horatio didn't like thinking of it that way. It made him feel like a teenager to refer to Lara as his girlfriend. So in his mind they stopped 'dating' when she moved in four months ago, although he didn't know what that left them with. Ten months, and no title. Maybe it was better that way, with no pressure or obligations. Her father worked in the BAU of the FBI, and he often found himself the focal point of her profiling skills. It made him squirm in his chair to notice how accurate she was, and she would often apologize later. She never meant to do it, she told him. She had grown up with it and it had stuck with her. It came in handy a lot of times, for both of them. She tried hard not to profile, but either way he couldn't hide anything from her. He didn't want to anyway, and that alone should have scared him.

He thought of all this as he sat on their leather couch with his arm around her shoulders. She snuggled deeper into his side as the movie grew more intense, and his lips twitched on a smile. She hated scary movies, and even though this wasn't one she was quite jumpy. She was terrified of spiders and thunderstorms, and heights made her shake although she loved flying. She was full of contradictions and a Rubix Cube to solve, but Horatio loved every minute of it. She was stubborn and hot-headed, and she loved animals with a passion so intense that it had landed a small Bichon Frise at their feet. He couldn't say no to her, and the dog was great besides. She was originally born in Italy, and she had once told him her mother would kill her if she saw how short her brunette hair had been cut. When Horatio had met her it had hung almost to her waist; a thick tangle of bushy brown that was often thrown into a sloppy bun to help her concentrate. Now that her hair was chopped into a stylish cut to frame her chin, she had to bite on her lip to help herself focus.

When Lara shifted again, Horatio bit back a laugh and pushed her slightly so she would sit up. She shot brown eyes at him that swam with confusion, but he laid back against the arm of the couch and uncrossed his legs. She beamed brightly as she stretched out across the front of him and buried her head in his shirt, turning back to face the movie. He laid his arms across her upper back, and she was content. They had done this so many times he had lost count. Angel looked up at them as they adjusted, but she laid her head back down on tiny paws without commenting. Horatio would have never seen himself with a dog before Lara; he was never home to take care of one, and then Marisol had been allergic. He found that he rather liked the small changes Lara had made.

The movie still had about half an hour left, but five minutes after they had gotten comfortable she was fast asleep on him. He didn't even have to look at her closed eyes to know it; he could feel her steady breathing against him become slow, and the arms wrapped around his back became lax as she drifted. The movie wasn't really interesting him anyway, so he brought his knees up to get a better hold on her torso. She mumbled quietly but didn't speak. She was an extremely light sleeper, but he could convince her to fall right back asleep if she woke up. He stood from the couch, throwing one arm under her knees and his other behind her head. Clutching her against his solid chest, he carried her to the bedroom. Angel ran ahead of him, stopping every few steps to make sure he was following.

"I know how to get there..." he mumbled softly. Lara shifted again, so he stopped talking. Their bed was covered in a mahogany-and-black striped pattern, and he pulled it back to lay her on solid black sheets. When he covered her, her eyes flickered open to glance at him sleepily. "Go to sleep, sweetheart," he whispered. She groaned softly, fluttering her eyes back closed.

"Where 'r you goin'?" she slurred. He grinned and leaned down, kissing her cheek softly.

"Angel is right down here with you. I'm going to go finish the movie." She shook her head, but she was asleep by the time he straightened up.

He shook his head, still grinning, and turned to head back toward the couch. He stared at the screen for several minutes before clicking it off and heading toward the desk in the corner. He pulled a small, silver key from under the pencil holder and opened the bottom drawer, pulling out a black velvet box. When he opened it, the lamplight glittered off a diamond ring and he sighed. He plucked it out gently, turning it several directions in the light.

"I know I said today, but I'll ask tomorrow."

He locked the ring back up and clicked off the lamp, heading toward the bedroom. It was the fourth night in a row he had completed the ring routine.