*******

The small garden awakes. The lupines and poppies are just beginning to shake off the early morning dew and stretch their petals toward the warming light. The stately sunflowers have anticipated the return of Helios, and their full crowns have already lifted toward the sky in worshipful abundance.

He stands in a clearing, arms behind his back. Waiting. Everything is in readiness and now he enjoys the first touch of day against his skin. When several small songbirds take to the sky, he smiles.

Through a rose covered archway she approaches him. Her eyes meet his as the sun finally breaks through a row of Italian Cypress and floods the garden with light. If he were the fanciful sort, he'd insist that nothing was brighter or warmer than her smile. Instead, he prefers to compliment her with a Look. She accepts it and blooms.

He waits until she's near before speaking. To call out across the garden would bruise this delicate morning. "This was unexpected. You're not usually up so early."

"I was awoken by someone, with the most delicious voice, reading poetry. As sleep was unlikely, I decided to get up and make the best of the morning."

Triumph stains his smile.

"Yea?" she responds archly. "Wait 'til you see your appointment calendar, boyo."

Sobered, he bows and gestures towards a picnic blanket set amongst tall terracotta pots of geraniums. An assortment of fruit, bread and cheese is temptingly displayed. "Mademoiselle was thinking of breakfast in Tuscany after I wash her hair?"

Her eyes widen, glowing with pleasure. She turns to him, smile faltering, "You already know me too well. Have I become that predictable?"

"Predictable? Here?" He spreads his arms to encompass the whole of the campus around them. "In this place?" He scoffs, shaking his head. "Banish the thought."

"Do you miss it?"

"What?" He cocks his head. "Order? Quiet? Peace?" He pauses as if seriously considering her question, then, leaning in, he presses a quick kiss to her cheek and whispers, "I wouldn't trade the most chaotic of moments here for any amount of peace out there." His intensity makes her shiver.

Straightening, he offers her his arm like the Old World gallant he honestly is. She passes her arm through his, and is lead to a chair set before a freestanding basin. Gathering her skirt around her, she sits and lets him adjust her so that her neck rests comfortably against the sun-warmed porcelain.

Her eyes drift shut as he leans down to pick up a pitcher of water. He pauses, admiring the fan of dark lashes against skin lightly flushed with anticipation. When it becomes too much for her and she catches a trembling lip between her teeth, he relents.

The water is warm and soft, and at its touch she relaxes with a soft sigh. But her short hair wets too easily and too soon the water stops. She smells the crushed almond and vanilla even before his hands begin to masterfully work the soap into her hair, massaging her scalp. As he brushes a dab of lather from her temple, the last remaining shred of tension deserts her, leaving her limp.

"Are you asleep?" he whispers.

"Not likely." Though her sleepy tone suggests that he is not far from wrong.

His hands leave her and she peeks, watching as he bends to pick up another pitcher. The water, reclaimed from the basin, is pure and sweet.

"It works well, doesn't it?" she asks, quietly proud of her system.

"Yes. You're marvelously clever."

Her eyes snap open, then narrow on his face, gauging his expression for any hint of patronization. He smiles innocently before kissing her on the nose. "Well? You are," he insists. With a delicate snort, she closes her eyes to his soft laughter as he rinses her hair.

Reaching for a towel, he holds it ready before asking her to sit up. Standing before her, his arms around her, he rubs the excess water from her hair and watches the dreamy, contented look return to her face. When he sets aside the towel for a brush, she stops him.

"Let's move to the blanket."

He acquiesces with a smile, stepping back so she can stand.

Now it is she who takes him by the hand, and leads the way. She slips out of her sandals and walks to the middle of the blanket, waiting for him to settle so that she can place herself against him. He pauses on the edge of the blanket, looking at her sandals and then at his boots. She laughs and tugs him forward. "You can leave 'em on, General."

The husky tone of her voice weakens his knees and he slips easily to the blanket, pulling her tumbling, laughing, into his arms. Before he can claim his prize, however, she turns primly in his grasp and sits with her back against him, reaching toward the plates of fruit and cheese. He traces a lingering kiss against the back of her neck, just long enough to sense her sweet response, before pulling back and picking up the brush. She closes her eyes and bites back the purr that rises in response to his administrations.

Shaking free of the lethargy, she cuts up an apple and adds slices of the pungent Gorgonzola he's thoughtfully provided. The sweet tartness of the apple, combined with the fragrant saltiness of the creamy blue cheese adds to her bliss. "This is just too perfect," she sighs.

He smiles in response.

"Aren't you hungry?" she asks, turning and looking over her shoulder.

"I ate after meditation."

Her eyes widen as she turns back to survey the picnic. "Then all this is for me?"

He tosses the brush aside and nibbles her lobe, whispering suggestively, "I might have a little something to eat."

Her eyes glitter with mischief as she arches away. Coming up onto her knees, she turns so that she's facing him, then sits again, legs crossed. She pats a thigh, and when he looks questioningly at her, she croons, "Lay down." Without further question, he rolls over and places his head against her lap, cocking one leg for balance and waits for her next move.

She admires the lean length of him; the uninterrupted black of his uniform contrasts starkly with the festively patterned blanket beneath them. The sleek darkness, combined with the vividness of his eyes caught by the sun breaking through the branches above them, gave him the look of a contented jungle cat.

"Good kitty," she murmurs, her eyes dancing with humour. Playing along, he bares his teeth in a snarl, causing her to giggle.

Reaching across him, she picks up the knife and plucks a grape from the plate. The sharp blade easily splits the taut skin and, with a deft twist of the knife, the sweet pulp is free of its bitter confines, which she tosses into the bushes for the insects to rejoice over.

Stunned, he looks at the peeled grape she holds before him. Dazed, he manfully resists the alpha urges rising within. "Have you been tested?" he finally croaks.

She smiles gently, brushing the hair back from his eyes. "Are you asking if I..." she pauses and licks her lips, "Thud?"

His tongue feels too heavy to speak. He nods slowly.

"Well... There's a lot I'd do for you, sugar..." She teasingly brushes the grape against his lower lip and bats her lashes. It is only the years of Jedi training that make him cognizant enough to hear the unspoken "but" at the end of her sentence.

She cocks a brow, in that way she does so well, smiles...

...and pops the grape into her mouth.

His delighted laughter is strong. Birds erupt from bush and tree, protesting the sound. She catches his laughter with warm lips, popping the grape against the roof of her mouth, filling his with its sweetness.

Not as sweet as her smile...

Not as sweet as his eyes...

He reaches between them and takes the knife, plunging into the ground as he rolls her onto her back. She's breathless and dizzy, whether from the movement or his thorough kisses... Don't be ridiculous, of course it's his kisses.

Waving his hand in the general direction of the garden gate, he seals them away behind a wall of roses.

Clouds gather lazily, thunder rumbles barely aloud enough to be heard and a soft warm rain pads across the garden, surrounding the pair.

"I'm too predictable," she sighs.

"No. You're perfect," he whispers.

Geranium petals fall as ants march unheeded toward a feast.

*******

Didn't say exactly *how* I'd feed him that peeled grape, now did I? <wg