Tears weren't a good look for his Wes. His face got all red and splotchy and, while his nose didn't run, it clogged and his voice always sounded muffled and nasally. His eyes were the worst, though. All big and bright and oh-so-blue. They were always filled with the worst mixture of sadness, betrayal and disappointment. Like he'd been expecting to cry or expecting the fight but not expecting to cry… something.

The one time Travis had made his stubborn, independent little omega cry had been a terrible night. It had taken place about a year into their professional partnership and four months into their bonded pair partnership. He vaguely remembered that it had been storming—thick, dark clouds overhead and thunder every few seconds. The power had been out and there was a single fly in their kitchen around the candle Wes had set out to see by.

Really Travis didn't remember anything that started the fight. They'd been talking about a case and then that vein had died off and another one about… something. What had they argued about? Probably futures. That was Wes's favorite topic to argue about. Usually it was a calm argument, unlike their usual ones. He always talked flatly and without any judgment when Travis said he didn't know where he wanted to be in ten years. Over the long time they'd spent together (six years today… wow. It still amazed him) Travis had learned that in ten more years he planned to still be beside Wes. Anything else could just come at them.

That answer always made the blonde smile at him. A real smile that he only had for Travis—sometimes only on special occasions. It had become rarer and rarer until recently, when the good doctor had told him that he'd been stifling Wes's emotional needs. Travis still felt terrible about that. He made sure to tell Wes he loved him every day when they left for work together and again when they went to bed.

If he was being honest with himself, Travis would say that couples therapy was a wonderful, wonderful thing. He never would have known he was neglecting his mate (ouch. It hurt to say it like that, but it was the truth) if it hadn't been for Dr. Ryan. He'd been so grateful after that session that he had a bouquet of daffodils sent to her house. Pink ones. They were his favorite—something Wes always teased him mercilessly about. Like the guy had any room to talk. What the hell was a ranunculus anyway? And he liked them in pink as well.

Hmm. He couldn't actually question what a ranunculus was anymore, actually. Lots of Google images and a special order to a flower shop three days ago had him with nine red ranunculus sitting on the table that morning. Wes had looked pretty happy about them—and the fact that Travis had remembered their anniversary. The brunette had been sure Wes wouldn't have expected more than that.

What had he been talking about? Oh yeah. Wes crying was a terrible sight to behold—not only to the eyes, but even to Travis's slightly oblivious feelings. Seeing Wes in pain made every instinct inside him scream out to maim whoever hurt his mate—knowing it was he who did it just made him want to give up. Call it quits and go back to his lonely apartment.

One thing he'd learned from Wes in their seven years together (yes, he counted the first year of flirting and professionalism) was that there were two types of crying. They both looked the same except for the eyes. Tonight Wes had cried and his face got all splotchy, his nose got all stuffy, his voice turned strange, but his eyes were so happy and shocked.

Laying in bed with Wes now, the omega cuddled up to him and oh-so warm and pliant under his hands and sleeping, breathing soft puffs of air onto Travis's collarbone, Travis had never been more content. Never had he been happier. And he had never, ever thought he'd be here and be happy about it. Anniversary sex was so much better than angry sex, he didn't care what other people said. I love you, lights off, slow and tender sex was so much better than the crash-boom-bang it's over of angry sex in his humble opinion.

Travis's thumb idly traced over the two half oval marks on the lower half of Wes's neck—his claiming mark. Their three year anniversary, he remembered, was the one where Wes agreed to be marked by Travis's teeth. That was also a great sex night. This one still topped it though.

Especially with all that paperwork sitting on the table downstairs. Filled out. Signed by both parties. Complete with a bow.

And a picture of a smiling toddler paper clipped to the top corner of the paper completed the best anniversary they'd had to date.

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Short thing to add on to the communication verse. That story makes me happy to daydream about so I feel like I'm going to be writing quite a few oneshots for it. This was a little more schmoopy than I thought it'd be and also my first take at travis pov, sorry if it's really ooc. I feel like everyone changes when they talk about the person they love, so travis would totally be crazy sentimental… even if he is the alpha ;)

Hope you enjoyed my little drabble thing. Not even a thousand words pfffft. If only I could write sex—we'd be here for a whopping 4k. why won't my mind just project things into words?!

Reviews, favorites, follows are all wonderful, but just reading makes me happy too :)