[shikatema, he catches her sneaking one of his cigarettes. ]

The first give away was the smell of smoke, just a faint trace in the night sky.

The second was his cigarette holder, knocked on its side with one of the white rolls missing.

The third, and most obvious clue, was the absent, still slightly warm, spot beside him in his bed.

He sat up, letting the thicker sheets slide down his body and pool around his abdomen. It was too early to be up, so of course this was when she'd decide to disappear with one of his cigarettes. Groggily, he rolled to his side and pulled the drawer attached to the bedside table open. The silver lighter was absent. Freaking troublesome woman, he couldn't help but to think, his hand combing through knotted black hair as he pulled himself upright. He pulled his hair into a lazy ponytail and plucked one more cigarette from the holder.

He reluctantly slid his legs out of his bed, the coldness of the tatami mat unwelcome against his feet. Why did she have to be so anal about this? He sighed and pulled on the boxer briefs that laid discarded on the floor. His mouth cracked into a yawn before he could stop himself. Now that he was upright, there was definitely a trace of smoke in the air.

Crazy woman.

Now that his eyes had readjusted, he could make out the stillness of the night. His normally tanned walls seemed to be a dark blue, the covers of his sheets normally green only looked like a dark brown. He rubbed his eyes.

What an ungodly hour to be awake.

He stumbled forward, hand groping to feel for the screen door that separated his room from the patio. Cold steel under his palm, it slid open with one languid pull, the smell of the crisp autumn air filling his nostrils with every deep inhale.

There she was, her outline illuminated by the glow of moonlight. He could see her figure, slim but not offputtingly so, leaning against the wooden banister. He could see the curve of her back, the line that ran through and down to the tip of her lingerie. Her hair, normally held up, fell down her back in surprisingly straight layers. His fingers itched with the phantom feeling of the night before, when he had ran his hand through her tresses, surprisingly silkier than he had expected.

She turned her head, her lips parted as a cloud of smoke lazily blew out.

She was a goddess in her own right, he thought.

She didn't say a word as he approached her silently, the back of his finger tracing her shoulder blade. She ignored him as she raised the cigarette back to her lips, nor did he attempt to stop her, really. Instead, he let his finger follow the curve of her back, letting it linger for a moment around her lower back before he withdrew.

"You're not mad?" she asked. Her voice wasn't raised nor challenging, just a mere question in a tone that he had only recently started to get accustomed to.

"I wouldn't've been able to stop you, anyway," he breathed. He could feel her shiver as his hand cupped her biceps, the breath she let out lidded with something more than smoke. She pressed herself back, skin turned cold from the night sky pressing against his own in a satisfying manner. He dipped her head back onto his shoulder, her eyes closed in contentment. They stayed there a while, listening to the faint sounds of crickets in the lazy breeze, smelling the faint trail of smoke that rose languidly from the cigarette she grasped between two fingers.

He pushed his nose into her hair, inhaling the smell of his own bed, mixed with the lingering scent of flowers. "I was more freaked out that you weren't in bed," he admitted into the curve of her neck. He could feel the vibrations as she chuckled.

"Why, that I wouldn't be there to protect you?"

His arms snaked around her waist and he pulled her even closer as she gasped, nearly dropping her stolen cigarette. He planted a kiss along her jawline, though she stubbornly turned her head away as soon as his lips left her skin to take another drag. As she blew the smoke away from them, he couldn't help but to admire the way the moon shone against her profile, highlighting her skin, her lips, her vibrant teal eyes that he to this day had not found anything more breathtaking.

She turned back to him, her lips twisted into a smirk as she stubbed out her cigarette against the ashtray that he'd just noticed was balancing on the railing. "Are we going back to bed?" she asked, her own hands caressing his as she nuzzled her nose into his neck.

But he raised his own cigarette to his lips and extended his neck forward, his chin skimming against her soft shoulders. She gave him a reluctant look but he gave her a side-stare until she sighed. She let go of one of his hands, taking the silver lighter and flicking it open. He lit his cigarette in the small, dying flame it produced, using one palm to hold both her hands against her abdomen as he reached up and exhaled.

"You're lucky I love you," said his long-time girlfriend.

"Whatever you say," he responded as took another drag.