Warm lips on my forehead wake me up, and as I slowly come to, I realize that I have been asleep for a very long time. Stretching and blinking, I look up at him. "What time is it?" I ask, staring up into a warm smile. The room around me is dark, with just the city lights invading through the glass of the patio door. He looks luminous in the dark, and though it is nearly impossible for him to be more sexy, he manages to pull it off expertly.

"Late. But it doesn’t matter." He brushes his fingers up my jawbone with one hand, and holds up a brown paper bag in the other. "Hungry?" he asks, and suddenly I can smell warm grease and chicken.

"Desperately," I reply. My stomach rumbles and the smile on his face widens. I look sheepishly up at him. "What’s in the bag? It smells really good." It smells better than good, in fact. It smells downright delicious, and my stomach acknowledges this with yet another audible grumble.

Grinning lopsidedly, he walks into the kitchen without answering me. Sighing, I figure now is as good a time as any to get dressed again. As I pull on my clothes I can hear him opening cupboards, slamming drawers, clinking dishes together. It sounds as though he’s making whatever was in that bag into a four-course meal. All I know is that the smell is getting stronger, and my stomach is becoming more insistent. Yanking on my socks, I pad over to the CD player, and hit the Play button, not remembering what I had been listening to last. As the first notes of a great Miles Davis song fill to room, I can not help but smile. Jazz is like ice cream; comfort food for the soul. And speaking of food...

Sticking my head around the corner, I peek into the kitchen. Elijah has his tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth, and is diligently sorting cartons and spooning out rice onto plates. Two plates. I wonder if this means the meeting didn’t go well. "Can I eat yet?" I ask, the sheer desperation for food winning over my desire to watch the scene in silence.

He turns and looks at me. "You got dressed," he states, as if it is odd that I’m wearing clothes.

Cocking an eyebrow, I saunter towards him and wrap my arms around his neck. "Yes," I say breathily. "But think about how fun it’ll be to take them all off of me again." Grinning wickedly, I kiss the tip of his nose, and let go of him. Grabbing my plate full of food, and snagging a fork from a drawer on the way out of the kitchen, I go out onto the balcony again to enjoy dinner with a view. The lights of the city play tricks with my eyes and Miles Davis plays tricks in my ears as I devour the contents on the plate. Just as I pause to wonder where he is, Elijah is suddenly beside me with his own plate, taking in the view as he chews thoughtfully.

"You know," he says. "If you dropped a quarter from up here, you could probably hurt someone." The mischievous twinkle in his eyes flashes at me, and he holds his fork out over the railing. "I wonder what would happen if you dropped a fork from up here..." He looks at me, seeking a reaction, and not surprisingly, he gets one.

"Drop that fork, Lij, and you’ll be going to get it. Even if it means picking it out of someone’s skull." I glare at him under my eyelashes for dramatic emphasis, and shovel another forkful of food into my mouth.

The smile on his face turns down into a pout, and he stabs the food on his plate. "You’re no fun," he mumbles.

The look on his face is just too much for me to resist. He knows I’ve always been a sucker for that look, and it does its job again. I sit my nearly empty plate on the small table behind me, reaching around him from behind and placing open palms on his chest, kissing the back of his neck lightly. "I’m fun," I mutter into his back. "Hell, I’m a bag full of fun. A room full. An ocean full of fun. Just in a non-violent way." Unless it includes killing kittens, I think to myself. But that’s something else entirely.

The wail of a trumpet from inside the apartment puts the shine on the moment, and together we move, rocking slowly back and forth to the music. He turns in my arms and puts his dish down as well, and then takes my hand in his, wrapping the other arm around my waist, holding me close. The trumpet increases, and we dance, swaying together in the night. He spins me out, and then grasps me tightly to him, kissing me on the lips. The moment is what I had been looking for all weekend. The sheer pleasure of being with him, in perfect silence, and yet absolute bliss. It was all I had wanted since the night before, when he had crawled into my bed.

As the song ends, he rests his head on my shoulder, yawning just a little bit. A slight smile touches my lips, and I kiss the top of his head. "I know something that might just keep you awake," I whisper softly. As if he was just waiting for permission and finally got it, he straightens up and kisses me again, his tongue soft as ever in my mouth, a hand imploringly reaching up the front of my shirt to cup a breast. We stay like that for a long time, tongues exploring one another, his hand exploring my body, mine clutching tightly to his shirt. When I find myself suddenly wanting much more, I break away and look deep into his eyes. "That’s not what I meant, but it’s not bad either."

Confusion crosses his face, and he asks, "What did you mean, then?"

Beaming at him innocently, I kiss him quickly on the lips, and then explain. "We’ve still haven’t watched half of that pile of movies in there, and I was really looking forward to seeing your Ash impression tonight."

Wickedness fills his grin and shines from his eyes blindingly. Dipping me slightly, he raises one eyebrow. "Give me some sugar, baby," he says in a deep voice, one hand out flying out behind him in a flourish.

Laughter peals out of me, rising from my toes, and it echoes off the buildings around me. Wrapping my arms around him, I kiss his lips roughly, and add a big "mwah" sound as I let go. "Come on, you. Time to save the world." I take the plates and walk into the apartment, with him behind me.

The Miles Davis comes to an abrupt stop, and through the silence, I hear the shuffle of plastic cases and a small whiny mumble. "Save the world. I have to save the world AGAIN? Haven’t I done that enough already? It’s time to let someone else save the world. Arnold’s pretty good at it. Let’s let him do it tonight." A few clicks, buttons being pushed, and suddenly the room fills with the THX sound. "Hurry up," Elijah yells at me.

Turning off the lights and coming into the livingroom, I sit on the couch between his legs, draping the blanket still there over the both of us. "What are we watching?" I ask, nestling into him, noticing that we fit perfectly together.

"Give you three guesses, and the first two don’t count." He kisses my ear, and the THX logo on the screen melts into liquid mercury. The screen goes dark, and we lie back to enjoy the movie.

We were back where we had started the night before, and yet I knew that now and forever, our movie nights would be different. The old relationship we had was gone for good. I smile into the dark. "Hasta la vista, baby," I whisper.

"Right in one," the voice in my ear says, and his arms tighten around me.

I can’t help but smile, knowing that he didn’t realize what I was talking about, but that my answer was correct anyway. "What do I win?" I ask.

The answer is exactly what I expected. "Me."

I can live with that, I think to myself. As long as he lets me pick a movie now and again.

The End.

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