Her eyes opened to see the sunlight seeping into the room- a very vaguely familiar room. And she was most definitely not in her own bed. Then a slight snore from beside her reminded her of where she was and why, and a smile broke over her face at the memory of the previous night. A kiss, long delayed but all the better for it. And when it became obvious that neither of them felt like stopping anytime soon, they had taken things to his apartment. As she watched, his eyes fluttered open and he smiled up at her.

"Morning, sunshine," he murmured, his accent thicker as he was still waking up, and reaching over to place a lingering kiss on her lips. Pulling back, he could hardly believe his luck at waking up next to this woman he'd loved for so long.

"Sunshine?" she asked, teasing him.

"What? You are my sunshine, my only-" he began to half-sing before she cut him off.

"Oh, no. Sweetheart, you can do a lot of things very well. That didn't come out right-" she added as her book-man smirked at her. "My point," she continued, dodging an attempted tickle, "is that singing is not one of them."

"Alright." Stealing another kiss, he reached over for his glasses from his nightstand so that he could see until he put his contacts in. At this, she couldn't help a smile: with his hair rumpled and his glasses on, he suddenly looked much like the slightly awkward man she'd first met. "What do you think? Shall we give the office something to talk about this morning? Come in together?" She grinned, standing up and reaching for her discarded clothes.

"Well, unless you drive me home so I can change first, somehow I don't think coming in together will be the giveaway." Secretly, she didn't mind at all if the whole world knew. She could see the smile that spread over his entire face, somehow wiping away all of the worry and melancholy of the past few years and replacing it with a boyish joy that reminded her just how young he really was, older and worn as he might seem sometimes.

And for his part? He'd never been happier.

With a start, Beatrice's eyes flew open as she took in the unfamiliar room with a strangely calm gaze. It was...comfortable, in some way. And, oddly enough, so was the arm of the man beside her, thrown over her waist as they slept. In an instinctively tender gesture, she reached out and very delicately ran her fingers through his hair. The slight pressure was enough to wake Benedick, his sleepy eyes slowly opening and a contented smile spreading over his face.

"Good morning, sunshine."

"Sunshine?" she asked mockingly.

"Yes. For you are a female Apollo, a goddess of light," he praised her melodramatically.

"Then are you a nymph, Signor Benedick?"

"Nay, I am no Daphne, for I could not run from you if I tried," he replied. At this inversion of their barbed banter into something sweet, Beatrice couldn't help allowing herself a smile.

"So it wasn't a dream. I had feared it might be," he commented lazily, reaching up to cup her cheek and noticing as he did so how very happy and at ease he was.

"A good dream?"

"The best." Benedick reached over to kiss her insistently. As she slowly broke away, Beatrice frowned slightly, trying to remember something. The frown did not go unnoticed by the man beside her.

"What's wrong?" She shook her head as if to clear it and summoned a smile.

"Nothing. It's nothing. Just...you mentioned dreams, and I could've sworn...Never mind." She grinned and kissed him again, this time wrapping her arms securely around his neck to anchor him closely as he responded most enthusiastically. With a groan, he pulled back.

"God, I would love to spend the whole day here with you-"

"Ambitious. Perhaps a little overly so," Beatrice interrupted with a smirk. Suddenly, she found herself pinned beneath Benedick.

"Do you ever stop talking?"

"If I recall, you were unbothered by it last night," she volleyed back.

"I'll take that as a yes. Then I suppose I shall have to stop your mouth myself." With that, he leaned down to cover her lips with his in a particularly long and deep kiss. Then, pulling away regretfully, commented, "We should get up now, shouldn't we?" Equally regretful, Beatrice nodded and he rolled over and off her. Benedick reached over habitually towards his nightstand for his-

Wait- what? I've never worn glasses in my life. A confused Benedick stared at his nightstand for a moment, half expecting glasses to be there and half wondering why he had reached for something nonexistent. "Shall we give the office something to talk about?" The words rose to his mind as if in a memory, something so very similar and yet different from this morning. And a sudden flash of a heightened joy. Not the contented happiness that filled his heart now, but something deeper, something more, something like the feeling of finally attaining something long striven for and longed for and finding it to be ten times better than imagined.

"I can't help wondering, Beatrice, if this might be something we would want to repeat?" He phrased it carefully, more carefully than he chose the words for his razor-sharp barbs and witticisms, so that the lady could interpret how she chose: an offer of well-matched intellectual banter followed by something else well-matched, or something more. Beatrice hesitated. He was handsome, and the only person she'd ever met who could match her wits. And that was quite a turn-on. But to be one of those couples, sweet and boring and domestic... she couldn't stand the thought. There was something about him, though, and before she could rationalize her way out of it or reply with a sarcastic retort, the word "Yes" had slipped from her mouth. Benedick's eyes widened.

"Really? I mean," he collected himself, "someone so high above me deigns to mix with a mere mortal?" he teased. Beatrice stepped closer, watching his eyes follow her and a slightly endearing confusion break through his casual demeanor. Then, throwing caution to the wind, she pulled his face to hers and kissed him, feeling him respond in kind.

"Clear enough for you?", she asked, unsure as to why she was so nervous. He must have taught himself not to interpret anything I did as romantic, not after... After... But we just met last... Beatrice's inexplicable train of thought was interrupted by a bright smile from the man inches from her, and words that somehow seemed exactly right for the moment as their lips met again.

"Not even close."

Two mornings-after, two or three flashes of emotion that confuse our modern-day Benedick and Beatrice. A note on the Apollo/Daphne dialogue: Daphne was a nymph who was shot with a lead arrow so that she would hate Apollo who loved her. Hatred mixed with love...sound familiar to these two? :) One thing I'm sure you'll have noticed is that I added in my own headcanon as to Wes and Fred's relationship status. Considering how long Wesley had loved her, and rewatching the scene at the end of "Smile Time" (but keeping in mind Fred's crack about "finally" getting Wes in her room in "A Hole in the World"), I found it quite likely that this is what happened immediately following that episode. I hope you're enjoying this story as much as I'm enjoying writing it. I hope you'll stick around and see how the two timelines intersect and bleed through, and I hope most of all that you'll tell me what you think by clicking that magic little review button below :)