I look at the world and I notice its turning

While my guitar gently weeps

With every mistake we must surely be learning

Still my guitar gently weeps

Flakes of filo stuck to Travis' bottom lip, drawing Wes' attention. He had a sudden urge to lick the bits of golden goodness from his lover's skin. The sticky sweetness of the baklava called to him, and not what was left on his plate, either.

"Problem, buttercup?" Travis set his plate on Wes' nightstand without looking away from him.

"No," he said, the words sticking in his throat. "You've got…" he brushed his bottom lip with a finger.

Travis' tongue darted out, swiping the remnants of dessert from his lip. "Gone?"

Wes nodded, wishing he'd been quicker to act. "Yeah. All clean." His gaze stayed fixed on Travis' mouth. It was what had convinced him to let his boyfriend bring the baklava into the bedroom in the first place. It was also what persuaded him to allow that same man to eat such a crumbly, sticky thing in his bed. Words, kisses, what other weapons did that mouth have at its disposal? And which would Travis use against him next?

Those luscious lips pressed themselves against his neck. Against his better judgment, he leaned into the kiss, snuggling even closer. He wanted the dishes out of the bedroom, washed and drying in the sink, but the lure of his boyfriend's body was stronger than his need for cleanliness… this time. "Travis, the dishes," he said, trying for responsibility.

"Forget them," he murmured, predictably, making Wes wonder why he'd asked. Because you don't want to leave his side is why, he reminded himself.

"But Travis…" Without words, Travis told him to unequivocally shut the hell up and stop worrying about the dishes. They'd still be there in the morning – like it or not –but Travis wouldn't be. Wait. No. Shoving his hands against his boyfriend's broad chest, he tried to pull away, to get out from under the influence of those enchanting kisses. "Travis, please…"

"Nuh-uh," he murmured, pulling Wes' hands away from his chest and pressing them into the pillows beside his head. "No more talking about the damn dishes."

He surrendered to Marks' ministrations, rejoicing in the feel of his solid body against his own, the heat of his skin burning into his soul. The thought fluttered through his consciousness again, the dishes will remain but Travis won't… Gasping, he broke away. "Travis, please, I need to ask you something."

Approaching a new level of frustration, Travis sighed and drew back. "What's on your mind, Wes?"

"I – I was just thinking and…" his voice faded out, wondering how he was going to suggest Travis stay the night. What if he didn't want to, if it was too much for him? Even worse, what if he laughed? He wasn't sure if he could handle that, not tonight.

"Thinking? About what?" Travis rolled off Wes and onto his side, resting a hand on his lover's chest. "Why does your brain always go into overdrive when everyone else's shuts down?"

Wes glared at him, even though he knew Travis spoke the truth. "Travis, will you – will you stay with me? Tonight?"

Lifting a hand, Travis caressed his face, teasing his lips with his fingertips. "Is that what you really want or is it what you think I want?"

"Honestly? I was afraid it's what you wouldn't want, knowing your track record." A dark finger brushed the edge of his earlobe and a shiver coursed through him. "But is it what I want? Definitely. I want to wake up with you here, beside me, tomorrow."

Travis planted a brief, chaste kiss on Wes' mouth, nothing more than a graze of skin against skin and it was gone. "Then I'll absolutely stay."

Stretching his limbs to their full length, Travis opened his eyes and discovered he was alone. A look to the bathroom showed the door open, light off. So, he wasn't in there. His hand searched the empty half of the bed, finding the sheets still slightly warm. Wherever Wes was, he hadn't been gone long. Travis dropped his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"Well, I suppose I should go find the little nut," he muttered to the empty room. Seeing his jeans folded neatly on the dresser, he grabbed them and slipped them on. The shirt could wait until later, he figured.

"Ah, so you're up," Wes said, not looking up from the coffee pot. "I was getting ready to come get you. Breakfast should be arriving in a few minutes."

There was a moment of silence and then the sweet sound of the coffee machine kicking to life. He so needed some caffeine if he was going to function like a human being today. They'd spent half the night rolling around and the other half talking each other's ears off. A midnight call to room service had brought snacks and another round of lovemaking, and yet, he was starving again. "Breakfast is a beautiful thing."

Wes smiled, leaving the kitchen and coming to face Travis. "That it is." He leaned against his lover's chest, cheek to his bare shoulder.

Travis wrapped both arms snugly around Wes' middle, pulling him as close as he could get without crushing him. "I'm starving, too," he purred ambiguously.

Laughing, Wes pulled out of his embrace just far enough to look up at him. "Well, buddy, food will be here in ten minutes, anything else you might be hungry for will just have to wait."

The arms that held Wes to him loosened a bit. "Aw, baby, you're gonna make me wait?"

"Just this time," he promised. "If food were farther out, maybe not. But somehow I don't see you letting go long enough to let me answer the door either way."

Travis kissed him, long and unhurried, searching every inch of his mouth for something he might have missed the night before. "Mmm, you might have a point there."

A knock at the door drew Wes' attention away from his boyfriend momentarily. "Speaking of food, that must be it."

"Mmm-hmmm," Travis said, burying his face in Wes' neck, nipping at the bit of skin he could find.

"And you need to let me go so I can answer the door," Wes chuckled.

"No," he said, licking behind Wes' ear.

"Yes," he laughed, pushing his boyfriend away, playfully. "I won't go far, I promise."

Dropping his arms, he let Wes answer the door. He stood aside so the room service guy could push the cart into the living area. Tip in hand, he nodded to the two of them and ducked out of the room. Wes was uncovering dishes and sorting them on the cart, taking random bites off the plates as he did so.

"He must see some strange things," Travis commented, wondering if the food courier had put two and two together.

Wes looked up, nodding. "I don't doubt it. Even in a place as nice as this, people do strange things." He lifted a plate and motioned him over. "Here, I didn't know what to get you, so I got you a bit of everything. Eggs, bacon, sausage, toast and fruit. You know, just in case you don't feel like completely clogging your arteries with one meal."

Travis faked a hurt look and took the plate from his boyfriend, carrying it to the small table in his makeshift dining area. Wes followed carrying a tray containing a bowl of oatmeal, two scrambled eggs, and some whole wheat toast. A bowl full of fresh berries sat to one side. "I'll get the coffee, go ahead and dig in."

He found it hard to eat, however, even as his stomach was grumbling for sustenance. They'd come so far in the last several months that he was still a bit in awe of where they were now. Where he'd once been astounded by the idea that his partner was in love with him, he now accepted it. Was even considering the fact that he might just be in love with the little blond jerk too. But now wasn't the right time to tell him that, not yet. That would come in time. Soon, he promised himself. Wes deserved to know soon.

It had taken Travis another six weeks, but he'd finally figured out how to do it. Wes had, of course, said the words first, words being much easier for him. Not to mention he had the tools needed to deal with emotions other than anger and happiness. Travis, on the other hand, not so much. In the end, Wes had been okay with his showing and not telling, even if he knew in his heart that Wes needed to hear it from him as much as he needed to say it.

The trick, one of his foster sisters had told him, was to just be himself. This confused Travis because, if he was going to be himself, then he wouldn't be trying so desperately to tell his boyfriend that he loved him. He'd just shrug and run the other way. This was serious, he reminded himself, and therefore he must make an effort.

Not that he thought Wes was going to dump him if he couldn't find the balls to say the words, but it would definitely make things easier between them if he could. He couldn't expect the boy to wait forever, after all.

Travis did take one part of his foster sister's advice to heart: the impulsive need to act without completely thinking things through might actually work out in his favor in this situation. Don't overthink it and you can't screw it up. That's why he stood in the hotel gift shop buying a single rose and wondering if it was cliché to give another man such a gift.

Eh, whatever.

It'd work itself out in the end, somehow. He was banking on that much. Steeling himself for the possibility that Wes did not want visitors tonight – he was a stickler for 'call before you come' even now that they were dating, but a call would ruin the surprise. And let's be honest, surprise was all he had going for him at the moment.

He knocked.

Wes poked his head out of the door, looking confused. "Travis? Don't take this the wrong way but, why are you here? I'm not even dressed."

Travis quirked up the corner of his mouth, leering playfully. "I'd think that by now you'd know I prefer you undressed."

"Annnnd, you're still a pig. Get in here, Marks, before we have a conversation my neighbors – temporary as they might be – don't need or want to hear."

Entering after Wes vacated the doorway, Travis looked around at the disaster Wes' living space had become. Paper covered every flat surface and even a few not-so-flat ones. "Wes, baby, you okay? It's not like you to be so…"

He looked around, considering. "Messy?"

"I was thinking disorganized, but yeah, messy fits, too." He gathered a group of papers together and sat in the nearest chair. "What's going on?"

"Believe it or not, I'm organizing. I had all these old bills and things in a box and I thought I'd go through them, toss what wasn't needed, straighten up…"

"You sound like you're nesting," he said, thinking it sounded just as odd out loud as it did internally. "Please tell me you haven't started baking cookies or knitting blankets."

Wes cocked his head, ready to make a smartass comment he was sure, when his eyes latched onto something. "What's that in your hand?"

Travis looked down, feeling guilty for having forgotten why he'd come over in the first place. In his defense, Wes' unusual messiness had distracted him more than a little. "This? Oh, well, it's a rose."

"I can see that, Marks," he deadpanned. "Why are you carrying it around?"

He pushed to his feet and grinned. "I brought it for you."

"For me?" Wes took it from him, confusion plain on his features. "Why?"

Wes wandered off towards the kitchen and Travis followed. Watching as he pulled out a glass and filled it halfway with water, Travis shrugged. Taking the glass from Wes, he plunked the rose into it and set it on the breakfast bar. "There, that's perfect. You like roses?"

He shrugged. "They're okay. I prefer simpler flowers better, but it's hard to find a bouquet of violets or daisies outside of a florist. I'm going to ask you again: why did you bring it to me?"

The time for stalling was over. Instinctively, he knew it was now or never – not that if he didn't say it now, he'd never have a chance. No, it was more along the lines of if he didn't say it now, he'd lose his nerve and never find it again. "How about because I love you and wanted to give you something nice?"

Travis watched the smartass remark melt off his face and transform into one that was three-quarters confusion and one-quarter hope. Wes stepped closer. "You love me?"

"I do," he confirmed. "I know it's taken me forever, that you said it first so long ago. But, I'm chicken and – mmph."

Wes cut off Travis' rambling apology with his mouth. His lips slid along his lover's, teasing, hinting that he wanted more. Ever obliging, Travis snaked an arm around Wes' middle, pulling him flush to his body. "It took you long enough," he joked, breaking the kiss long enough to bust Travis' balls.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he mocked. "We both know I'm a slacker so give it a rest, okay?"

"No," Wes argued, moving in for another quick peck. "I'm never going to give it a rest. I'm always going to remind you that I said it first and you waited for months to return the favor."

"It wasn't months," he protested. "It was nine weeks."

"Which is two months and one week. Months, Marks. Plural." But the smile on Wes' face belied the tone of the words he was saying. Travis could tell that he could have taken several more months and he'd still have been okay with it. He was thankful that he hadn't, but knowing that he could have gave him hope that Wes would continue to be so patient with his idiocy.

"Okay, you're right, so sue me." He squeezed Wes around the waist and lifted him off the ground, twirling in a slow circle.

"Not going to sue you, Travis," Wes assured him. "There are much more pleasant things to be done when you're around.

And that there was. Shockingly enough, not all of them fell into the category of 'things to do in the bedroom' either. Wes had continued to prove to him that they had more in common that their jobs and an explosive sexual chemistry. It was a revelation in itself that he had any kind of worth outside the office and bedroom. But that was the beauty of a man like Wes. He might not always like what Travis did or had to say, but he always respected and loved him, even when he was being stupid. Scratch that: especially when he was being stupid.

One Year Later

Wes stood, hands on hips, watching Travis chase the puppy through the park, not sure who should be on a leash more – his husband or his furry, four-legged son. His money was on Travis at the moment as the ten week old German shepherd puppy was leagues ahead of Marks in the maturity department. Lifting his fingers to his mouth, Wes whistled, once, sharply, and the puppy came running. Travis, on the other hand, stayed where he was, looking in Wes' direction.

"What," he called across the grassy area delineated for dogs and their owners. "We going home already?"

Repressing a smile, he shook his head. "No, not yet, Travis. It appears Jax isn't quite done playing."

Travis looked at the fuzzy white puppy racing circles around Wes' legs and grinned. "Yeah, he's still pretty excited, isn't he?"

Lifting the eager, floppy eared puppy into his arms, Wes made his way over to where Travis was standing, sunlight streaming down through the trees. "He certainly is, I think he gets that from you."

It was clear from the start that getting a puppy was smarter than taking on the kid Travis had wanted to foster. True to form, they couldn't agree on anything – from what kind of dog to adopt to the colorings and the sex – it was an uphill battle on every front. He'd eventually given in and let Travis have his way, figuring it'd be the easiest option. When Travis had settled on the smallest puppy of the bunch – that elusive white German shepherd he'd always wanted – Wes had been floored. Maybe Marks was starting to listen after all?

The kids would come later, he figured. They were both young enough that there was time in three or four years to take a wayward youth or two into their lives. Travis felt he owed it to those kids out there, the ones that reminded him so much of himself at that age, and Wes took no issue with that. In the meantime, a puppy was more than either of them could handle.

Sometimes he wished they could have one of their own – a kid that was part Mitchell and part Marks – but that wasn't possible, not in this century. Maybe in the next, however. It made him laugh to think what a kid of theirs would be like – smart but mouthy, handsome but awkward. The kid would definitely be a charmer, that much he knew for certain.

Until then, they had Jax.

"What you say we play fetch with Jax long enough to wear him out and then we swing by Sonic on the way home?"

Burgers. It was always burgers and fries with this boy. But the girls at Sonic loved Jax and always gave him an extra biscuit. "Okay, Travis. But tomorrow night, we eat real food, okay?"

"Okay," he agreed, putting the puppy into the grass before throwing his tennis ball into the park. "Go get it boy!" With a yip, Jax ran off after the ball, returning with everything but his ball, including a raggedy doll belonging to someone's four-year-old daughter who chased the dog all the way back to his owners.

"We should have named him Travis Junior with the way women keep chasing him back over here," Wes observed, trying not to smile at the frown forming on his husband's face.

"Hey now, that's not fair," he whined. "I gave up women, remember? For you even."

"And need I remind you how you even figured out that I was in love with you?" Wes chucked the stick Jax had retrieved this last time, hoping he might return with his ball this go round.

"Oh right," Travis grinned, rubbing his chin with his fingers. "You got jealous because I was flirting with someone who wasn't you."

Wes gave him a shove. "That's right, you jerk, you were flirting with the enemy. But I set you to rights, didn't I?"

"Well, I don't know about that, but you sure gave me something to think about, didn't you?"

Biting his lower lip to keep the sarcasm at bay, Wes instructed Travis to go retrieve the dog that had found his ball and taken off with it. "Make yourself useful for a change," he teased.

Travis ran off in search of the puppy, collapsing into the grass and rolling onto his back when he found him. It was true, he had been jealous, but only because he had wanted something he didn't think he could ever have. But now? Now he had it all – everything he had hoped for and more. He had a home – a real home, too, and not just a room in a fancy hotel – a husband, and now, even a dog. Sometimes, on Travis' less mature days, he even had a child to care for. But that was a moot point because he loved that jerk, no matter how childish or insane he might be. Best of all, Travis loved him too. Life was perfect.