JANUARY

Peyton felt the last tingles of aftershocks course through her, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, and smiled in delight.

"I love you," she mumbled incoherently into his neck.

Lucas's mouth curled into a small smile. "Well, good," he said, reluctantly pulling out of her heat and placing a firm kiss on her mouth. "I love you too, sweetheart. Did you know that?"

"I did," Peyton replied contentedly, stealing one last kiss before he rolled off her. She sighed. "This is like, the perfect state of being," she commented, as Lucas smiled his agreement. She glanced over at him. "You're pretty awesome at that, you know."

"Ah, Peyton, Peyton," he answered loftily. "That's what all the girls say."

"Funny!" Peyton exclaimed in mock annoyance, poking him in the ribs.

When she'd tiptoed in from the office earlier to find him dozing over "The Grapes of Wrath" - having obviously lost the battle to wait up for her - she couldn't believe how cute he looked. She would never tell him – twenty seven year old men didn't generally appreciate the bestowal of an adjective often applied to kittens or small children – but she could show him.

Thus, Lucas Scott found himself whispered and stroked and kissed awake by the most beautiful woman in the world. A not at all undesirable situation, if he did say so himself.

"What time is it, anyway?" Peyton asked, after a beat.

Lucas consulted the alarm clock on his beside locker. "Almost three," he said, turning towards her in bed, his face inches from hers.

She groaned. "We are going to be so tired in the morning."

"I don't know," he smirked. "I find I always wake up with a spring in my step after one of these late night rendezvous"

Peyton burst into laughter, snorting in a most unladylike fashion. "I can't believe you just said the word "rendezvous,"" she squealed.

"What?! It's a word!"

"I know it's a word, Lucas, I just don't think you should say it – ever"

He made a face at her. "Noted," he replied dryly. "C'mere"

Peyton allowed herself to be pulled into his arms, manoeuvring herself around so that her back was nestled flush against his chest. The wind howled outside, and she felt a particular brand of contentedness wash over her, the one that comes with knowing that while the elements rage, you are safe and warm and cocooned from it all.

"Well," Lucas said eventually, nuzzling at the juncture between her neck and hairline. "Even if you do mock my vocabulary, and even if I have been known to bitch about you waking me up, I'm glad you did tonight."

His hand travelled across her stomach, cupping her breast lightly, caressing it. A gesture of simple affection and intimacy for its own sake, leading nowhere, Peyton knew. She leaned into his warmth happily.

Though their days were filled with quick emails and phone calls, it had been a while since they had been able to just be together, Lucas thought. Snatched moments in the mornings and hurried dinners were not enough for him. He moaned softly as he ran his free hand along the tops of her thighs, dropping a kiss on her shoulder.

Sometimes he still couldn't believe that he got to see her this way, touch her this way. She was warm and wet and pliant and perfect. Lucas felt as though it had been forever since he had held her in his arms, and said as much.

Peyton did a quick calculation and realised that the interval had indeed been rather longer than usual. Still, she reasoned, "It's been, like, four days, Luke. I don't think that's exactly a drought for most people."

He nipped playfully at her earlobe, his voice hot and low in her ear. "Well, most people don't have such a beautiful, sexy wife as I do," he countered, "so I guess that explains it."

Peyton smiled idiotically, blissfully. "Guess so, Mr. Scott," she replied sleepily.

There was silence then, and Peyton felt herself dropping into that beautiful, hazy space between wake and slumber. Lucas's steady breathing on her shoulder had the soporific effect of a pendulum, and she felt sure he had fallen asleep ahead of her. It was with surprise, therefore, when she found herself jolted back to full consciousness by the sound of his voice.

"I don't know," he mused. "I just feel like I haven't seen you in a couple of days – work's been so crazy for us both." His lips brushed across her skin. "I missed you."

Peyton was so perfectly snug and comfortable in her current position, it took a seemingly gargantuan effort to turn herself around, but she wanted to see his face. She kissed him sweetly. "Me too," she said. "And I'm sorry I had to stay late tonight."

"Hey, no, that's okay," Lucas answered. "I know you're busy. I just don't want you working yourself too hard, Peyt."

She shook her head. "Nah, it'll ease of in a week or so," she assured him. Five years after the label's inception, Peyton's drive and passion hadn't wavered, and she regarded any passing inclination to rest on her laurels with fear. It was no longer a question of finding any half decent artist and making a name for herself, but of finding the right artists and maintaining her good reputation. Striving for excellence was, she found, actually a lot more difficult that striving to just earn a living, but a lot more enjoyable too. The truth was, if she didn't love what she had at home even more than what she had at work, Peyton might never leave the place. As it was, Lucas was all the incentive she needed to be out of there by six most nights.

"I think it's just a little insane cause I took such a long break for the holidays this year," she continued. "Plus, every one of my artists seems to have come up with a New Year's resolution to record an entire album by, like, February or something," she claimed laughingly, aware of her own exaggeration. "So yeah, phone calls all day. And you know how temperamental musicians can get when it doesn't all go exactly their way…"

Lucas smiled ruefully. "Oh, nowhere near as temperamental as teenaged basketball players, I can tell you."

Peyton reached for his hand, threading her fingers through his unconsciously. It had been something of a revelation for Lucas to realise that his job never got any easier – each new year and new team came with a new set of problems. All he could hope for was to become better at dealing with them. By now, Peyton knew all the ins and outs of this year's Ravens, and knew how much Lucas cared about them. He had his moments of doubt and often wondered if he was doing a good job, but Peyton had enough faith for them both. She could see how much those boys respected him, and she was prouder of him than she could say.

"You can handle it," she told him confidently. "And remember, Luke, just think…"

"What would Whitey do?" they finished in unison, and laughed. It was an oft-repeated refrain in their house.

"Did you write any more tonight?" Peyton wondered a moment later.

He shook his head. "Nothing major, just a couple of hundred words."

Peyton's eyes lit up. "Can I read it?" she asked, her tone teasing.

"Peyt! You know you can't! Not yet, at least."

She sighed in exasperation, and the mattress groaned as she rolled over onto her back. "But it's a novel, Luke! She protested, although she knew he wouldn't relent – a fact which didn't stop her bugging him about this all the time. "I can be impartial! Ok, fine, you not showing me "An Unkindness of Ravens" I can understand, I was in that one, but…"

"You're in them all, sweetheart, one way or another," he said softly, as she trailed off. "I just want it to be perfect before I show it to you."

Peyton pushed her husband over onto his back, curling herself into his side and slinging one of her bare legs over his.

"I know, I know. I'm just impatient," she said.

A pause.

"I bet John Grisham lets his wife read his stuff as he goes along," Peyton muttered eventually.

"Too bad you didn't marry him then," Lucas replied, apparently entirely unconcerned.

She smiled indulgently. "I know, bummer, right? I bet he's like a zillionaire too. I totally picked the wrong novelist, Scott."

"You wound me, Peyton," he answered, attempting to keep his face serious but unable to help laughing. "That gets me right here," he said, placing her hand over his heart.

"Aww. I'm sorry." She cooed, assuming an expression of contrition and placing a careful kiss over his heart. "You're much better looking than John Grisham," she said seriously a moment later, presumably in an effort to make amends.

Lucas guffawed. "I don't know what he looks like."

"Neither do I," Peyton replied easily, "but you're much better looking than everybody."

He smiled, and she sighed tiredly. "Go to sleep, ok, Luke?"

He looked down at her as she burrowed herself into him to settle down for the night. She was the most adorable thing he'd ever seen. Unable to help it, he tilted her chin up towards him and kissed her thoroughly for a moment, flicking his tongue against hers, tasting her.

"Ok," he said, pecking her one final time. "Goodnight sweetheart. I love you."

"I love you."

They slept.

So, this is just intended to be a fluffy little thing - there is a storyline but nothing momentous will ever happen in this story - hope that's ok! Theoretically there could be twelve parts, but i haven't written any more, so I'll just see how it goes in terms of response etc :)