"That's fucking hot." I had burnt my mouth on my broccoli and cheese soup.

"I'm sorry, babe, if you need to look away. I tend to have that effect on people."

I kicked him gently "You have such a big head."

He smirked and took a spoon full of soup before fanning his own mouth. He was wearing a sombrero. Why you ask? We were going to the soup place at the mall, just to pick up a couple of cups and I looked in the backseat of his truck. Sitting on the seat was a straw sombrero, a pair of wooden clogs, and a small wooden guitar.

"What the hell is that?" I asked, taking the sombrero in my hand.

"It's a long story." Jon had said, brushing me off.

"We have time."

"Well, remember that military ball the other day? Well, we were completely smashed. Well, I wasn't, but Matt was. We were going down route one and there was this little Hispanic guy, I think his name was Juan but I don't really remember, who was on the side of the road wearing a poncho and all that stuff. Matt yelled at me to pull over and I was afraid that he might take the wheel if I didn't, so I did. Matt convinced him to get in the car and he ended up going to the party with us. This kid, didn't speak a word of English, but managed to hook up with my commanding officer. I give the little guy props. Unfortunately, his crap is in my car and I have no way of knowing his name or where he's at."

And now, as we were sitting on his couch I laughed. He was so goofy sometimes. Over the past few weeks he has really opened up to me and I could tell he was getting more comfortable about it. He took off the sombrero and ate the rest of his soup. I would like to point something out that is completely and utterly unfair. Jon has too fast of a metabolism. This boy can eat anything he wishes and barely gains a pound. Sure, he goes to PT once a week and works out, but still. It doesn't count.

We threw away our empty cups and sat on the floor in each other's arms. Jon lit up the fireplace he had and I nestled into him. I love the way he smelt the same. It's the one thing that never changes about him. Although I don't agree with it, I love the faint smell of smoke. I love the way the soap lingers on his body and the his hair is always a perfect mess. I love the way his warmth radiated through our clothes and warms me to the core. I love the way our bodies fit together, like they were made for each other. I love the way he loves me and the way I love him.

"So, what do you want to talk about?" he asked me after a few minutes.

"Let's play a game." I said

"What kind of game?"

"Hm... let's play twenty questions."

"The clean version or the dirty version?" he asked with a smirk.

"Let's keep it clean."

"Aw, you're no fun, but fine. You go first."

"Hm. Alright. What's your favorite color?" I was pretty sure I already new the answer.

"Blue. How many serious relationships have you been in?"

"Well, what do you mean by serious."

"I don't want to know about the month long flings."

"Three. What's your biggest fear?"

"Of all time or right now?"

"Both."

"I don't think that's fair," he said, "but because I love you I'll answer. My biggest fear of all time is suffocation. Mostly because it's how I almost died in Iraq. As far of my day to day fear, it would probably be of fucking up and losing you."

"Aw." I looked up at him "That was cute."

"Yes. So, what's the most awkward thing you've ever had to talk about?"

"Freshman year I was going out with someone four years older than me. His name was Mike. He proposed to me and wanted to whisk me away to Ireland. He was absolutely crazy. I told him I was fourteen, that marriage was the last thought in my mind. He broke up with me for breaking his heart. I just laughed awkwardly."

"Wow. And I thought I was the only one who dreamt about you as my wife."

I laughed awkwardly "Anyway, what's the worst thing about the war?"

"Well, you'd think that because of the desert it would be the sun, but it's not at all. It's actually a toss up between anticipation and the cold. The war was a whole lot of waiting. You'd get an adrenalin rush from some gun shot or i.e.d. going off, but then you'd have to calm down. Keep a cool head. Sit for a few days, a week maybe, with nothing to do. And then there's the cold. You'd sweat through your clothes all day until a layer of sweat fills every crevasse of your body. And then the night comes. You stop moving and the temperature drops by fifty degrees. You freeze in your own sweat and your bones chill. Bumps fill your entire body and your teeth chatter. You barely sleep."

"Wow." I said, shocked "That was harsh."

"Yeah. It sucked. But I'm not there anymore and I get to spend my nights with you."

He gave me a tight squeeze and kissed my temple. His breath smelt herby from the soup.

"Do you think about our future as much as I do?" he asked in a thoughtful voice

"Kind of, kind of not."

"What do you mean?"

"I wonder if I'll even have a future. In a year and a half I might be dead. I mean, I hope I have a future. I hope we have a future, but sometimes I'm not so sure."

"We have a future." he said, like it was a fact "And it's going to be beautiful."

I looked up into him and took him in. That's the first time it really hit me. I was falling head over heels, butterflies in my tummy, chills down my spine, fireworks in my mind in love with Jonathan Michael Browning and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. He kissed me slowly my heart sang. He pulled me up onto his lap and kissed me again and again. His hands played with the ends of my shirt and mine started feeling the collar of his.

I started unbuttoning his top shirt and he rolled up mine as if rehearsed. My cami underneath clung to my body. He lifted me and himself off of the floor and we crashed onto the couch. His mouth found its way to my neck and everything went fuzzy. His belt found it way to the floor followed by my jeans. I felt like I was losing my mind. I could feel Jon everywhere. My lips, my mouth, my neck, my shoulders, my chest. Our scents mixed together and I felt like liquid in his arms. And that's when I realized I wanted him. I wanted every bit of him. But then I remembered my promise.

I pulled his face away from mine and his breath was heavy on my face.

"We need to stop." I said

"Why?" he asked.

I laughed "I promised you that I wasn't going to let anything happen."

"Screw the promise." he said, as his mouth found its way back to my neck "I didn't mean it."

I giggled as his hands went up my sides.

"I'm sorry, but a promise is a promise."

He groaned "This really isn't fair."

"You're the one that made the promise!" I exclaimed

"Why do I always have to open my big mouth?" he asked, collapsing on top of me.

"Because I love your big mouth." I kissed him softly and lingered for a few moments.

"And I love you, but it's always getting me in trouble."

"How so?"

"Well, like tonight. All I want to do, is have a wonderful night with my wonderful, beautiful, sexy girlfriend, but all I get is a cup of soup, a few questions, and worked up."

I had to laugh "Worked up?"

"Baby, I want you." he kissed my neck.

I laughed "Yup. Definitely time to stop."

He groaned.

"Besides," I said, pouting a little "I loved our soup, questions, and kisses."

"I love them too, don't get me wrong. That's why I don't want to stop."

I kissed his forehead "Only a year and a half."

"It's been like, a month!" he said "How am I supposed to make it a year and a half?"

"You'll live." I was smiling.

His arms slithered around me and he buried his face in my chest. I rubbed his bare back and traced hearts on his skin with my fingers. He's so perfect and I'm so... not. He's way too good for me, I realize this now, but I don't care. I'm selfish and self-centered, and mean for keeping him here with me, but I want him. I want him to be the person I call when I need someone to talk to and I want him to be the person I wake up next to in the morning. I messed with his brown hair and he smiled against my skin.

"You're perfect."

"I'm really not." he said.

"No, you really are."

"I smoke like crazy when you're not around. I'm surprised I don't have lung cancer. I have a huge ego and I'm overly confident of myself. I'm thirty three and all I've accomplished is a manager at Walgreens and a few years in a war. I'm terrified of abandonment and death. I'm paranoid of loud noises and I seem to only smile when you're around. I am far from perfect."

"Your smell makes me smile. I wish you didn't smoke, but once you get you get into the medical field I have a feeling you'll stop. I love your ego and your confidence. It makes me happy to see that I'm not the only one who thinks you're absolutely amazing. That is far from what you've accomplished. You've got an English degree under your belt, you've served and protected your country in their time of need, you've gotten father in the retail world then most people care to, and you've made this girl fall madly in love with you without even trying."

"I might be deployed to South Korea."

"That's not funny." I said, flicking his nose.

"That's good, because I didn't say it to be funny. My platoon has decided to sign up to be deployed if needed. If a war breaks out."

My heart was beating out of my chest. I was sure he could hear it. I started hyperventilating.

"What?"

"I didn't know what else to do."

He lifted his head and looked into my eyes. I saw fear and worry in his.

"If I go, I want you to forget about me."

"That's never going to happen."

"After six months it will."

"Never. Darling, you're name has been sketched into my heart forever. I promise."

He kissed me and I felt like crying. The inevitable question ran through my head. What if he dies?