A long time ago, I promised a friend a fic. Long story short, I'm a bad friend and I never got around to it. But my hetero life mate is amazing, and she wasn't mad at me. She's one of the greatest people I know, and she totally deserves this (and more). This is for you, my lovely Mimi (aka, Sweet Corruption, of course). :) Oh, and this is spawned from some of our text messages, just you know bb.

Also, this short ficlet includes massive amounts of fluff. A warning. :P


SAVOR EVERY MOMENT OF THIS
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*
I'm pulling my car up into the drive when she comes out of the house. I don't know what's better -- seeing her face after what feels like an eternity, or the fact that she's come out to greet me in only a blanket. I'm exhausted, right down to my very bones, but at this moment, nothing else matters. It was all worth it: catching an earlier flight, not getting any sleep, driving clear through night. It's the early hours of the day, but suddenly sleep is the furthest thing from my mind.

Her skin seems to glow slightly in the dim morning light, and as she holds the blanket closed around her body with one hand, she's smiling my favorite smile. From the looks of her hair, I know she's probably just woken up, and her cheeks are pink and full of life.

She reaches the car just as I'm parking, and I gaze up at her through my open window, just drinking her in.

"Well," I say, "I hope this a homecoming gift, and not that you've just seen off another, much better looking man than me."

Without missing a beat, she says, "Oh, actually -- you just missed Jeff." She points back towards the way I came, giving a mock-sympathetic look. She then grins again, and gestures with a hand. "Get out of the car."

"Only if you're done talking about my brother," I say playfully.

She makes a slight face, putting her free hand on her hip, and jutting her waist out to the side slightly. "Well..." she says slowly, trailing off. I raise one of my eyebrows, and she throws her head back as she laughs. "Get out of the car, Matt."

Pulling my keys from the ignition, I quickly pocket them as I open the door. In all my haste, I forget to take off my seat belt, and it practically strangles me as I push against it. She laughs again, much quietly this time, but she says nothing until I'm on my feet.

"Smooth move, Mr. Hardy," she says.

Rather than answer, I shut the car door -- noticing that the seat belt is stuck in it, and not particularly caring -- and I close the gap between us in two large steps, slipping my arms around her waist. Her smile seems to grow, becoming more radiant, and I pull her against my chest firmly. When our lips meet, it's better than it's ever been, but that's how it always feels with her; the next kiss is always better than the one before it.

"Why does this feel like a scene from one of those corny romances you read?" I ask against her lips.

"Have you been borrowing my books without asking?" she questions, pulling back a little so that she can meet my gaze.

I smirk, shrugging one of my shoulders. "I don't need silly stuff like that," I tell her, "Not when I have you."

"Oh, well I'm sorry," she says, using her fake sympathy, "I do. I need my fix of rugged cowboys and the wanton women who love them. Or pirate captains and the royal ladies they kidnap but later fall in love with."

"That's what all those books are about?" I ask, half-incredulously. "You girls have bad taste."

"I must -- I'm with you," she says, rolling her eyes in an over-dramatic fashion.

I laugh, then lean in to kiss her again. Her lips are soft and they taste natural -- no artificial lip gloss flavor, maybe just a hint of the Chapstick she uses. But that's something I've always liked about her, she doesn't mind being her natural self, she doesn't need make-up to go get the mail or anything.

"So," I say, starting to guide her to the house, now only one of my arms around her waist. "Cowboys?"

"There's just something about them." She's got one of her arms around me as well; I forgot how good that felt. "I think it's the hat."

"And pirates?"

"Well, they have fancy hats too." She shrugs one of her shoulders.

"So that's what I need?" I ask her. "A fancy hat?"

"It'll be a start," she answers casually. "I think I have an old cowboy hat somewhere in the house if you want to try it on -- a Stetson."

"What?" I ask. "And then we can play a game of 'Cowboys and Indians' or something?"

"Maybe."

"I'll be the cowboy, you be the Indian princess," I said.

"Now you're talking," she says with a laugh.

I don't think there's anyone in the world who could understand how good it is to be home, how good it is to be back with her. I know I'll have to leave again soon, but until then I'm going to make this last.