Disclaimer: All characters (unless otherwise specified) belong to Aaron Spelling, E. Duke Vincent, Gary Tomlin, NBC, et al and are used here strictly for non-profit entertainment purposes.
Rating: PG 14
Genre: Drama
Spoilers: The whole series is fair game.
Summary: A couple's bedroom can be a sanctuary from the world, their problems and sometimes, each other.
A/N: This is a collection of short stories with no particular sequence to the order of the chapters.


Chapter 1: "Be My"

It was late when Gregory put his key to the lock and pushed open the door. The lights were off, darkness becoming the quiet oceanfront condominium. The hardwood floor beneath him gave sound to his steps as he walked through the foyer. He deposited his suitcase on the floor, a thump echoing in the empty living room.

His tie gave as he walked down the hall, the material bouncing limply against his shirt. He sighed tiredly, the full schedule of the last four days catching up to him. Back to back depositions in Denver and a delayed return flight left him drained. Exhaustion seeped through his veins and flamed his aching limbs.

The bedroom was cool, quiet as he stepped into it. A shaft of silver moonlight fell in through the window, baptizing the bed. All was not as he expected to find it. He stared down at the bed, shedding the professional skin that was his suit coat as he watched her sleep.

Olivia was curled on her side, her hand tucked beneath her chin. The other hand was stretched out to the emptiness of what was his side of the bed. Her face was relaxed, made still by the peaceful slumber she had surrendered to. He kicked off his shoes as soft breathing parted her lips. He sank into the bed, a loud creak disturbing the silence as the mattress gave beneath him. He grinned devilishly, inching closer to her. Since meeting her, the once sturdy bed just hadn't been the same.

He traced a line up her bare arm, his fingertip gentle against her flesh. She sighed in her sleep and shifted against him. Their faces were inches apart, their chests flush against each other. She opened her eyes slowly, her face tranquil in the pale light. She blinked, stretching against him as a tired smile graced her face. "You're back," she whispered, cupping his face as her lips found his. Soft kisses caressed his mouth and face, welcoming back every inch of him.

His arm rested in the curve of her waist, drawing her closer. "I didn't think you'd be here," he admitted as she kissed her way along his jaw line.

Her chuckle was soft, lost against his mouth as she made her way to his lips again. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all." Her smile was impossible to miss, infectiously lighting up the dark between them. "It's about time you finally used the key."

She stretched again, her body forming a graceful line for the briefest of moments before she sighed and snuggled against him. The scent of his cologne clung to his starched shirt and she turned her face to his chest, inhaling deeply. "I missed you."

"I wasn't even gone a week."

"Doesn't matter." Olivia looked up solemnly, meeting his eyes. "Did you miss me?"

He brushed aside her hair, her teasing question seductive in the silence. The round peak of her shoulder was bathed in moonlight and his lips were drawn there like moth to flame. She drew in her breath, her hand combing through his hair to cup the back of his head. The expanse of flesh between her shoulder and neck was rediscovered as the lingering traces of her almond soap filled his conscious. She pressed herself closer as he nibbled a path up her neck, a sigh on her lips. "Maybe," he finally answered as his hand fell to the small of her back. "A little."

She cupped his face, her palms warm against his cheeks as she gazed into his eyes. A small smirk was curling the corner of her mouth as her brow arched in a dare. Three nights of phone calls that stretched late into the night had been unable to quench his thirst for her. Her sleepy voice on the other end of the phone was a poor substitute for her warm body draped against his.

"Maybe," she repeated carefully, her face nuzzling against his. "A little."

Three small words that barely skimmed the surface of the truth. And they both knew it.

She wedged her sheet-clad leg between his as he held her closer, the tips of her fingers resting against the flesh of his neck. "What did you do while I was gone?"

Her sigh suggested her boredom and he knew the answer with her having to say it. "Worked some extra shifts," she replied, shaking her head dismissively. "But, I'm off the weekend."

"Really?" he whispered with playful awe. "So am I."

She smiled broadly, reaching for his face excitedly. "You are?" she whispered, placing a series of fluttered kisses on his chin and mouth. He nodded, matching her mouth and tightening his lock around her leg and back. "What should we do with ourselves?"

"Go out on the boat," he suggested in a mutter as her fingers carefully undid the buttons of his shirt. "Drive up to Napa. Stay in bed all weekend."

"Tempting," she giggled, pushing his shirt open. The coarse hair of his chest tickled her bare flesh, bringing a grin to her face. "I don't care what we do," she said, absentmindedly fingering his chest, "so long as we don't have to go to any of your work parties."

Gregory looked down at her, twirling a lock of her hair round his finger. Her hand snaked beneath his shirt, wrapping around to his bare back. "Are they that bad?" he asked softly.

She glanced up, hearing the underlying thread of seriousness in his questions. She shook her head, a bare smile on her lips as she traced the hollow at the base of his throat. "No," she admitted, watching as reassurance flashed across his face. "You always have such a good time, talking about whatever lawyers talk about and I'm left to make small talk with their boring, old wives."

He watched closely as she concluded with a chuckle, "I have no more small talk left in me." He reached for her hand, squeezing it gently as an easy silence unfolded between them. She rested against him, her face and breath grazing his chest. A warm feeling bubbled within him when she squeezed back and kissed the flesh over his heart. He turned his face into her hair as he asked with a hush in his voice, "Be my boring, old wife."

Her eyes opened slowly as the echo of his question lingered over them. "Be my…" she repeated slowly, meeting his dark eyes.

He bit back his laughter, the sight of her bewildered eyes and dropped jaw bringing a grin to his face. "Not that you'll ever be old or boring," he continued, gently pushing her shocked mouth closed. She gave him a weak smile and he cupped her face, fingering the soft flesh of her ear lobe. "Not to me."

Her chest shook against his and his hand fell to rub her back comfortingly. "Just…be my-"

"Yes," she replied softly, silencing the rest of his question when she pressed her finger to his lips. "Yes."