First came the cell phones. One playing Pachelbel, the other Keith Urban. These were their personal phones, the one's they used for trading racy text messages and phone calls. The volumes on the two devices were at a lower setting, thus keeping the duo in blissful slumber.

Next came the work issued phones. One was off and the other was on vibrate. Swing and a miss. The snoozing bodies only curled closer together. Despite the sun having been up for a few hours, the thick curtains were pulled over the windows, this blocking out a good portion of the orb's intrusive rays.

Finally, in what was probably a testament to the prolonged usefulness of phone companies, the home phone sitting in its cradle burst to life with a shrill, loud ring. This seemed to get through. From the bed, a hand rose up and made a few grabs for the phone, missing the first few times before finally clasping it and clutching it next to his head.

"Hel-" He began, drawl hampered by the fact he wasn't actually awake yet.

"Turn on the TV! CNN!" The voice on the other end practically screamed.

That was enough to wake Neil up. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he plucked the remote off the dresser. Shifting his gaze to the obscenely large wall mounted television; he mashed several buttons until he finally got it on. He made a note to read the instruction manual later on. He then watched in slack jawed awe as he observed something that was worthy of The Far Side.

The setting was a ballroom of a very nice Hotel; Neil recognized it as somewhere in Hollywood. But, the setting wasn't what made it… unique. No, that would have been the cast of characters involved in the merry farce.

He watched as the large tuxedo clad frame of Los Angeles Chief of Police Damon Gant wrestled with a red-suited young man who was attempting to simultaneously hang onto his back and pull the Chief's hair out while another young fellow threw whatever food he could get his hands on at the furious law officer.

Neil blinked once, trying to assure himself that it couldn't be two of the biggest acting stars in the world. No, it just couldn't be. Why? Why in God's name would Matt and Juan do this? Couldn't they just make another freaky sex tape? At least that would be easier to spin. Sighing, he realized he should probably wake Kris up. Turning to his left, he nudged the blonde with his elbow.

"Kristoph, you're… you're probably gonna wanna wake up for this." The cowboy defense attorney suggested. The sound asleep blonde mumbled something and proceeded to turn away from the source of this annoying interruption. Neil laughed as he leaned over. "I know you can hear me. So either wake up for I'm gonna burp."

The threat of a whiskey tinged Neil Marshall belch seemed to be the exact right thing to raise sleeping beauty.

"I'm up. I'm up." Kristoph reassured. "Keep your gas to yourself." He said, groping for his glasses. His speech was fractured with yawns. "What is so important? It's Satur- Oh, good God!"

Indeed, Kristoph's reaction had pretty much mirrored Neil's. The two sat dumbstruck, gawking at the television as two of their biggest clients attacked the most powerful policeman in California. Kristoph, finally slightly awake, came up with a rational thought.

"God, do you know how much we could make from this?" The blonde wondered aloud.

"If we take it to Trial? A ton." Neil answered. "That and we'd make the news every night for months." Kristoph nodded.

"Of course, this will eat up every second of our free time until it's resolved." The blonde pointed out. Neil cocked an eyebrow.

"In that case… it's 9:30 in the morning… I'm going back to sleep. 12 seems like a good enough wake up time." The Texan decided, easing himself back down on the bed. Kristoph quickly followed suit.

"So…we're just leaving them there, which is probably jail?" The blonde just had to ask.

"C'mon, Kris. You think for a second that those two are in a group holding cell? They're probably in the same cell this very minute, thinking up more weird relationship ideas." Neil reasoned with a nod. " 'Sides, they put Two-Face Matt in with a bunch of drunks and pedophiles, they'd have quite the body count come morning."

"Yeah, that's true." Kristoph said, chuckling. He readjusted himself, trying to relax. "You willing to handle the press side of this?"

"Yeah, 'course." Neil said, nodding. He knew that Kristoph, who had fairly recently overcome crippling shyness, was still somewhat timid around cameras and large crowds. He compensated with a photographic memory and a suave, understated Courtroom style. As a young public defender, Kristoph made maintained a win rate of 70%, something positively unheard of for a P.D. Of course, it wasn't really to anyone's surprise that he had graduated tops in his law school class from UCLA. He dressed well; three-piece suits were standard, even before his entry into the world of high profile clients. The only thing that he paid more to attention aside from his wardrobe was his hair. His icy blonde mane was usually the talk of the courthouse, for a hair had never been seen out of place. He was still very young at age 24. Due to his having advanced through school rapidly, he had earned his JD by age 21.

As the blonde nestled himself in bed, the Texan pulled the covers back over them. It was unusually windy and causing enough of a drop in temperature. In other words, it actually felt like winter in Southern California. Trying to get himself tired again, Neil yawned. Bored, he ran his tongue over his still tingling teeth. His latest whitening had been very effective, his teeth were now almost as white as those of the celebrities he represented.

Indeed, he was the on-camera face for the law firm known as Marshall&Gavin [M&G for short]. A University of Virginia product, Neil had moved to Los Angeles to work as a prosecutor. That was as far as he had planned. Of course, he hadn't planned on meeting the shy, cute, blonde public defender. He really hadn't planned on losing to him, but that had just wetted his curiosity. Neil had courted the young blonde, not knowing it would turn into one of those rare whirlwind romances where the two parties involved fell madly in love with each other before they knew it. He had managed to do all this while maintaining a 90% conviction rate. Though he often shrugged it off, he was in fact one of the better lawyers employed at the Prosecutor's office. His easygoing manner and savvy belied his still young 28 years.

They had faced off in Court a total of 12 times. Neil had won five times, Kristoph had won five times and two were mistrials. After the second, the two struck up an interesting accord. Rather than continue to batter each other over largely depressing cases involving largely depressing matters, the two reached a compromise. The two had reasoned, over Kristoph's first real drink of alcohol, that a partnership would be smart.

Neil had done the math. His skill with the press and Kristoph's impeccable Courtroom record would make for an impressive venture. It also helped that Kristoph's younger brother was a rock star who was literally swimming in money he couldn't give away fast enough. One sizeable loan later, the two had an office on the upper floor of a skyscraper in the Financial District of downtown Los Angeles. The firm officially opened on a New Year's Day. Klavier Gavin was the first client.

xxx

The snoring body was splayed onto upon the bed, arms and legs at angles that would give Picasso pause. His legs occasionally twitched as he rolled over, seeking that elusive position of perfect comfort. Despite the chilly temperature outside, he slept in the nude, finding it to be "liberating". His lean, muscular body still showed the old wounds of college football; a few surgical scars circled his body.

His roomy apartment had a prime view of the beach, and the surfboard that hung on his living room wall was proof he was a frequent visitor. While not exactly messy, it wasn't the tidiest living space; stacks of paper abounded, each a typed page that gave birth to an explosion of handwritten notes that resided in any available white space.

The sound of waves crashing against the sand was perfect to lull him back under whenever he felt the urge to wake up. It even kept him at peace when the shrill bursts of his phone invaded his little paradise. With slight grace, he shoved the phone against his face.

"You got 20 seconds before I throw this damn thang into the ocean." He drawled.

"Easy, Jake. It's Lana. My office in two hours." The sweet sounding voice said. "I'll give you a raise if you wear a tie." She joked before hanging up. Jake sighed as he dropped the phone in its cradle. Rubbing his eyes, he sat himself up, convincing himself he was happy with the 16 hours of sleep he had gotten. He had been aiming for 20, but decided to settle.

Rising from the bed, he batted long wisps of dark hair from in front of his eyes as he made for the kitchen. His stomach growled with every step. He was part way there when he noticed something that wasn't there the day before.

A large, flat gift lay on his coffee table. He ambled over to inspect the foreign object. A card adorned the exact center of the package, his name written in perfect cursive. Curiously, he carefully opened the corners and slid the contents out. He actually gasped.

It was a lovely gold-rimmed frame, his eyes flashed against the clean, spotless glass. He beamed with pride as he silently read off the contents. He mentally read the words off in no particular order: Jacob Owen Marshall, University of Texas School of Law. Juris Doctorate.

Oh, this was just… wonderful. He knew immediately that Neil and Kristoph had to be behind this. He laughed softly, honestly touched. With a wistful sigh, he sat down and relaxed into his couch. He was still in minor shock that he was in fact a law school graduate and a prosecutor to boot.

It wasn't that being a detective was boring, far from it. He was one of the best in the city and loved almost every minute of it. But after a while, he started to think about how things on his little brother's side of the mirror. It was still putting away bad guys, but without as much "dirty work". He had told all this to Kristoph and received an interesting answer, one that was essentially a dare.

"Take the LSAT, Jakey." The blonde had said. "If you can crack a 165, I'll help you get in somewhere."

Kristoph, smarter than his years, realized that someone like Jake, who had a Bachelor's in Criminal Justice and his work experience as a detective, could get in anywhere with a 165, he just wanted to see if it could happen. It had, and Jake was soon working in the Prosecutor's Office.

Placing the framed degree gently back down, he returned to the kitchen, deep in thought over what manner of alcohol he should consume with breakfast. With a shrug, he focused more on food, content that breakfast burritos were a good way to start the day.