Wyatt woke first the next morning, disoriented. His sleep addled brain didn't understand the warmth against him, the softness. For a moment he couldn't remember the last few days, the whole thing hazy and dreamlike. But as he continued to wake, awareness dawned, and he realized it was all real. It had all happened. The warmth in his arms was Lucy.

His life was the dream.

He sighed, arms tightening around Lucy's sleeping form as he took advantage of the opportunity to just look at her, unabashedly. He hadn't really had the chance to before, not in Hedy Lamar's guesthouse, or at the Bunker. With so many people always around and interrupting, there was no chance to indulge in slow wake-ups. He was captivated by her sleeping form. Well, he was captivated by all her forms, but this was a new one he was eager to learn. The way her hair went wild, framing her face in a tangled halo. The softness around her eyes. The small upturn of her lips that he hoped he helped put there, even in sleep. The little sounds she'd sometimes make as her body shifted around. She looked peaceful, content, happy. There with him, in his bed.

Their bed.

He couldn't bear to wake her. When his bladder finally tore him away, he made sure to not disturb her. Who knew his army stealth skills could be used for such every day challenges? He successfully made it through the bathroom and out to the kitchen without her noticing. He suddenly felt energized, the happiness in his heart translating to a sudden urge to act, to do things. Normal things. Like make his girl breakfast in bed. He threw open the cupboard as ideas raced through his mind, ideas that came to an abrupt halt when he was faced with empty shelves. Oh. Right. He frowned and debated his options. He could just order something in; there were brunch places that did that these days, right? But no, he wanted to make something for her himself, with his own hands. While their sleep schedules had been erratic at best while living in the bunker, he knew for a fact Lucy was not a morning person. If she could sleep in, she would. He could probably nip out to the closest grocery store and be back long before she woke. With a decisive nod, he did just that.

He was proven right. He was out to the store and back with ingredients for pancakes within 20 minutes. Peeking in on Lucy after dropping off the groceries, he sawshe was indeed still dead to the world. With a grin he started in on breakfast, getting the coffee machine going while he worked. Everything came together perfectly, his excitement mounting as he even found the woven wood tray he had stashed in the back of a cupboard for some reason. He never could remember where it came from. He was just setting a bowl of freshly cut fruit on the tray, alongside a stacked plate of pancakes, syrup, coffee, and orange juice, ready to bring it to Lucy in bed, when he heard the sound of footsteps. He silently cursed, his face falling as he realized his surprise was ruined.

"Wyatt?" Lucy's sleepy voice came around the corner, the woman herself following a second later. Her hair was wild, her eyes were squinty, and she was wearing his shirt. His heart flip flopped in his chest and he almost dropped the tray. She must have taken it from the closet, purposely ignoring her newly hung clothes and choosing the long plaid instead. The sleeves were rolled up and it hung to her upper thighs, where it became obvious that she was wearing only his shirt. She stopped short at the sight of him, standing in the kitchen with the beautifully laden breakfast tray.

He shrugged his shoulders and held the tray higher, finally finding his voice. "Surprise?"

She shuffled forward, eyes brightening as she continued to wake up. "Did... did you make me breakfast?"

"I wanted to surprise you. You know... breakfast in bed."

A grin lit up her face as she stepped into the kitchen. "Really?"

"Yeah. Guess I failed."

She shook her head emphatically. "No, it worked! I'm surprised!" She placed her hands on his wrists and encouraged him to set the tray down on the counter. She then wrapped her arms around his neck and stood up on her toes to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

"I love it," she smiled softly. "Thank you."

He beamed down at her, hands caressing her sides. "My pleasure, ma'am."

She continued to grin as she stood up to kiss him again, her arms wrapping tighter around him. His own slid forward to encircle her tiny waist. His touch seemed to jolt her into a full state of wakefulness, for it took only moments for the kiss to grow heated, tongues slicking against one another's as one of Lucy's legs hitched up against him. He groaned as she pressed her hips into his, her fingers winding into his hair. His hands gripped her waist and he plucked her right off the ground with ease, setting her up on the counter and stepping between her legs. She let out a breathless laugh at the sudden shift, her legs immediately wrapping around him. He buried his hands in her hair, angling her head to kiss her harder. After so long denying himself her touch, it seemed it was all he wanted now. If he could spend the rest of his life just kissing her, without stopping, he'd be a happy man. She seemed to have other plans though. She continued to work her mouth against his, just as deeply, just as passionately, but her hands began to wander, slipping under his t-shirt to slide up his abs, then back down again to toy with the edges of his pants. He shuddered against her and she grinned against his lips, hands quickly undoing his button and zipper.

Her hand slid down under his boxers and he had to finally break the kiss, laying his forehead against hers and breathing heavily as she stroked him once, twice.

"Lucy," he breathed.

She pulled her hand away and he looked at her askance, mouth open to protest but her hands went to the bottom of her pilfered shirt and in one swift move it was off and thrown aside. His jaw dropped, all protest dying as he gaped at her. Apparently, his shirt really had been all she was wearing. Lucy Preston was now completely naked and perched on his kitchen counter.

Holy shit.

She was grinning at him again, her mouth quirked, sly and smug and so goddamn sexy it was almost too much to handle. But handle it he would. With a growl he surged forward, claiming her mouth once more, one hand gripping tight around the back of her neck to keep her in place as the other rose to her breast. He cupped the soft flesh fully, kneading it, swiping his thumb over and over her rapidly tightening peak. She moaned into him, scooting her hips forward to the edge of the counter to press against him. His hands left her to grab the edge of his own shirt, but she mumbled against his lips. Pushing his hands aside she grabbed the shirt herself, tugging it off him with a cheeky smile. She hummed in satisfaction as she looked over his bare chest and he couldn't help straightening his shoulders a bit with manly pride. She giggled at him then took hold of both his boxers and jeans, shoving them down as far as she could. He quickly stripped the rest of the way, almost tripping in his eagerness to kick them off. He couldn't help it. They were out of the bunker. Forever. Lucy had moved in with him. They were happening, and wouldn't stop happening, and could 'happen' whenever and wherever they wanted. By the way his blood was thundering in his veins just now he had a feeling they'd be happening a lot. He didn't think his desire for her could ever dimiish, be anything less than all-consuming. God how he loved her...

His musings were cut short by the firm grip of Lucy, grabbing him between the legs and using her grip to gently pull him towards her. He grasped her hips, sending a thank you to the universe and the architects of the building for having made the countertop the absolute perfect height for this. Lucy balanced at the edge of it, legs wrapping around him once more as he slowly pushed into her. She sighed, her head dropping to his shoulder as her arms snuck under his to wrap around his back. He paused once he was fully sheathed, sucking in deep breaths to calm himself. Damn did she feel good. Her head remained on his shoulder and he took the opportunity to kiss her neck, gloriously exposed to him. She made a noise of approval and he continued, laying kisses up and down the porcelain skin, his tongue peeking out to taste her. She shivered and he latched on, sucking gently. Her legs tightened around him, inner muscles squeezing, and he groaned, hips pushing harder against her without his control. She swore into his skin and he pulled back from her neck, holding her hips tight as he started to move.

They found a rhythm quickly, the new positioning working perfectly for them. But was it the countertop position that made it work, or was it just them? It seemed that in their limited time together thus far they worked in perfect unison no matter where they were. Like they were meant for each other, a perfect match. Their bodies seemed to know each other, sense every little thing the other needed and responded instinctively. When there was that little hitch in Lucy's breath, Wyatt knew to slip a hand down between them. When his rhythm faltered, just that tiny bit, she knew to squeeze her inner muscles again. When his thrusts got harder, faster, she sought out his lips for a final, hot kiss before pulling back to look him right in the eye. The look of each other, pupils blown, cheeks red, chests heaving, was enough to finish them both. With a final hard swipe of his thumb, Lucy was gone, Wyatt tumbling after her a second later. He kept thrusting, and rubbing his thumb over her, as long as he could, until it was all too much and he had to let go, his hands falling to grip the counter on either side of her.

She moved her arms to cradle his head, laying it down against her chest and shoulder, right above her heart. He could hear and feel it pounding beneath her soft skin. When he felt he could stand without support,t he put his arms around her once again, hugging her close. She sighed, now resting her head against his chest. One of his hands brushed lazily up her back to hold the back of her neck again, thumb moving gently back and forth as they held each other for a while. It was Lucy who finally pulled her head back, still holding him tight as she beamed up at him.

"Thanks for breakfast."

He laughed, his hand moving to her face, brushing a strand of hair away. "We haven't even eaten yet."

"I know. But I'm still satisfied."

He grinned smugly. "Me too."

She smiled wider and kissed him once, twice. A quick third. "I'm also impressed that we didn't knock the tray right off the counter."

He glanced to the side, realizing how close they were to the fully loaded breakfast tray, which itself was dangerously close to the end of the counter. He blew out a breath. "Yeah, no kidding."

Lucy reached out and tapped the edge of the tray. "Probably cold now. Sorry."

"Hey, don't worry about it," he scoffed, taking the hand and holding it in his. "That's what microwaves are for."

"Ah, 21st century technology."

"Isn't it great?"

She squeezed his hand. "I think this is great."

He was seriously his worried his heart would swell so much it would burst right out of his chest. "I love you," he couldn't help but say.

Her eyes went wide and she let out a soft, little gasp. "I don't think I'll ever get used to that."

"I hope you don't. Cause I'm gonna say it a lot."

Her teeth came out to bite her bottom lip as she tried to contain a grin, her eyes bright and wide and looking at him with infinite tenderness. "Good."

He had to kiss her again. She sighed when he pulled away.

"For the record... I love you too."

He moved in for yet another kiss when suddenly his stomach grumbled. She laughed, turning her head so he hit her cheek instead of her lips.

"Now about that breakfast..."

The End

Well, I'm calling it there, folks. This story is finis! Buuuut… the next one might just pick up right where we left off 😉 I hope you've enjoyed this little foray into domestic life, cause there's more comin' if you want it! And not just M stuff. I swear. Though there's more of that too... ahem.