There you are, sitting in the garden
Clutching my coffee, calling me sugar.
You called me sugar.


Sometimes it doesn't have to be intense. Sometimes its the gentle, emotionally unassuming moments that make love what it is to who it is.

In the dim light of an early morning as a man lies and watches his lover sleeping he sees a blessed peace finally etched on a face that has looked troubled for more years than its wearer would ever care to admit.

In the bright sunshine that beats down on a white sandy beach two bodies lie sprawled then innocently tangled before their fast fading footprints tell of a chase towards an Aegean blue sea where their laughter drowns out the crash of tiny waves.

On the back of a tour bus, both exhausted and beaten down, bruises slicked in arnica cream and bandages binding broken ribs they fall asleep together, a mess of curls and straggly blonde strands mesh together without coaxing.

These are the moments of a true love; a pure love that not many are ever lucky enough to find. When asked to say why they love each other neither finds the right words, principally because there are none. None are needed.

Standing in the kitchen slaving over a lovingly prepared meal strong arms snake around a thick waist and cross at the front, fingers splaying across the apron-covered abdomen and drawing the craved heat of a much-missed body close. Small chaste kisses are planted on a strong shoulder as the inky opal curls are nudged and nosed aside, their satiny soft texture against tired skin akin to the feeling of sliding into a freshly made bed.

The cook turns his head around to see his lover's face perched on the roll of his shoulder. He plants a kiss on the prominent nose that he no longer notices as anything more than a part of someone he loves entirely. Their line of work makes extended time apart inevitable. His injury is nearly healed and these stolen weekends of togetherness will soon be nothing more than a memory again. For now though they're at home with each other and that's all that matters.

The tenderest of touches are not always those accompanied by or leading to carnal desires and pleasures. The holding of a hand at yet another doctor's appointment; the reassuring arm around a shoulder as unpreventable tears fall bitterly; the brushing of hair from a lover's face as their eyes are sought as a route to a truth they can't cope with alone; all these things are the truth of love, of their love.

In a moment of sadness where no words can compensate for the loss of a mother there is only small comfort he can offer. Patting the sofa beside him he silently invites his lover to put down the tear stained notepad he uses to try to note down, and maybe someday decipher, the painful feelings of loneliness he copes with every day. His wordless gesture makes it clear that he cares but he knows that nothing he can do will be enough to take the hurt away.

Nevertheless he takes the challenge and as his lover comes to sit a while he strokes the tear-dampened hair and softly works the tension out of stiff shoulders until heavy and slow breaths give away that he's assisted the much needed drift into sleep. Without moving he sits there and thinks about how far they've come and how far they have still yet to go. She's been gone a long time but her oldest son never forgets and remembers her daily. In truth he wouldn't change that, he'd just give anything to make it easier for the man laid dreaming in his lap to deal with.

Letting someone close enough to touch the very centre of your soul is not something many of us achieve. The absoluteness of the required trust, the need to look at a face and feel nothing but swept away by the honesty it promises; that's all too hard to find. It doesn't matter whether that trust is found in the comedown after making love or the first time the words 'I love you' come into the equation. If it's there, its clear and it's precious.

Pushing the man he loved to a place he'd never been before was something that he barely dared to do. If he hadn't been so convinced of the bond between them he would never have thought to do it. This was the man that owned him body and soul and who's entire reputation traded on his strength. Making him feel so weak and vulnerable hadn't been part of the deal and it was a curious mystery as to how it ended up that way, even temporarily.

With a deep gulp he recalled the connection he felt during their more sensual lovemaking, the cherished moments of passion that supplemented their affectionate natures. He wondered if he was risking all of that for fulfilment of a niggling sense he had at the back of his mind. The breath-hitching thought of never feeling those loving hands raining harsh blows down on him again or never feeling the confusion of where he ended and his lover began caused him to shudder but not relent.

Watching his warrior, his master and protector break beneath him electrified every nerve ending and as their glinting and glazed eyes met in the darkness he knew he had been forgiven and promised a full punishment simultaneously. Bowing his head deferentially he continued, his stomach sick with desire, fear and anticipation until he heard and felt the final pained growl. It was followed by his being dragged down into an embrace laced with passion and need that would later flow into the spitting of vile words and battery of painful ministrations that only his master could provide. Their love was unorthodox by most people's standards but to them it was all consuming, completing and perfect.

Love may be a many splendoured thing. Love may well make the world go round.

Love is strange.

Love is a battlefield.

Love is the drug.

A/N: Right, so most folks will probably hate this, however, its something that crept up on me in this last hour or so and demanded to be written or else. I'm not sure what the 'or else' is but its menacing enough for it to be interrupting my train of thought. So, all reads and reviews appreciated. If you don't get 'it' and want to know what this is about just message me, that's assuming anyone makes it to the end XD!! Its a further part of my current Matt Hardy/Triple H kick so the other pieces might make it make more sense.

As ever props to DK for the good loving her Matt muse shares with my H muse!

Vaguely inspired by the lyrics to Pink – Glitter in the Air – a song about love that just puts a different spin on things. Worth checking out the words even if you don't like her singing. The 'coffee' line at the top is from it.