All around them perfectly manicured grass sprawled out in a green sea, broken only by the occasional pond-link sand traps. The short-shorn, slender threads of grass occasionally ruffled with the slight breeze and the sun would catch on them, shimmering silver against the emerald. It gave the natural carpet a ripple effect that mimicked serene waves of water. Below them the Pacific Ocean lapped bright and blue against the rugged coastline, the rhythmic splashing and crashing further lending to the seemingly perfect picture. Across the foamy line of the ocean, made purplish by the setting sun, was the hazy rolling line of distant mountains, partially smudged by a stretch of lazy clouds. The sun was beginning to sink, the sky painting itself into a water-color of pinks, oranges, and purples. The underbellies of the soft clouds reflected gold and silver, and the whole scene was completely breathtaking.

It would seem as though there was nothing that could make the perfect seascape better, but there was. He was bent over his tee, the tiny white ball perched onto its miniature stand. His tongue poked out form the corner of his mouth as his strong hands curled around the grip of his club—whatever kind of iron it was—Shawn had no idea. His lips simply curled contentedly as he watched the nearly silhouetted form of John, with his chestnut hued hair ruffling up with the breeze. Now, that really was a picture of perfection, and there was Shawn without a camera to capture it.

He had to admit that when John had told him that he was taking Shawn golfing, he had been less than thrilled. Golfing seemed so boring to Shawn, akin to the entertainment value of that old standby: watching paint dry. It had never been his thing, but John loved it so of course Shawn had agreed to tag along, deciding he could be John's caddy and drag his bag around.

However, Shawn's horrible attention span soon found him bored with him scuffling the toe of his cowboy boots against the tended green. The only things that kept him somewhat occupied was toying with John by sneaking not so sneak-peeks of his ass while he was worrying over the shot, goofing around when they drove the cart, or mocking the seagulls that would occasionally land and strut around along the shorn grass. The only thing that Shawn was truly enjoying—other than John's company (although he was a bit grumpy when Shawn goofed a little too much, and distracted him) was the scenery. Each turn seemed to give a view more astounding than before, and it just seemed like something off of a postcard from heaven.

Now that the sun was steadily creeping down in the sky, it was all the more beautiful. Then, there was John grumbling over that damned ball, not noticing any of it. Shawn sighed, wishing John would stop more often and take note of the simpler things of life, things that didn't care about class, money, politics, or stocks. Here they were at Pebble Beach, in California, one of the most well-known and beautiful courses around the world, and John wasn't even really noticing it. Perhaps if Shawn threw money into the situation, he could get John to see his reasoning to throw away the silly game, and just curl up on the green and watch the sunset. See John? Shawn thought to himself—this golf course is one of the priciest in the world, nearly five-hundred bucks a pop, and you're not even stopping to see its uniqueness. No, not John. All he was interested in were the little pock-marks on the white ball, and what sort of club to use, and how far it would sail.

John had tried to show him how, and now that was interesting. Shawn couldn't deny that he loved the feel of John melded around his body as his big, warm hands, wrapped around Shawn's and showed him how to hold the club, how to stand, how to bend, how to swing. Shawn couldn't help that his attention wasn't really very focused on the impromptu lesson of earlier. What had really been outstanding to him was the position they'd been in, with John's breath coming softly on his cheek, the words tickling against his ear, his rear tucked into John's waist…which Shawn wiggled and caused John to lose his train of thought. That just tended to frustrate the taller Texan, and in turn Shawn pouted.

Shawn sighed again, rethinking in his mind what he was planning to do once more, before acting out on it. It wasn't really anything too brilliantly constructed, just a simple matter of a stride and a grab. That was it.

John whirled around, regarding Shawn with raised brows and a look of surprise on his face. After the initial reaction of being startled wore off, he just looked annoyed. John stood with one hand on his hip, the other raking through the mousey hair that was still getting caught up by the intermittent breeze.

"Shawn, what are you doing?" John asked, waving his golf club towards the empty tee, as if Shawn needed the fact to be pointed out to him.

Shawn smiled, and rolled the textured white ball in his hand. His smirk widened a little more, and he tossed it up, caught it, and did it again. John took a few steps towards Shawn, and went to snag the ball from him but Shawn quickstepped out of the way, wagging his finger at John.

"Shawn, just gimme my ball back, baby."

Shawn pouted not for the first time that day, and rolled the ball between his fingers again.

"Do I have to? Come on John…we've been doing this for so long and it's just…have you even noticed anything? Have you even taken time to enjoy it?"

"'Course I've enjoyed the game, I always enjoy golfing Shawn. I love it." John answered, a little confused by Shawn's question, when Shawn knew how much he liked the sport. Shawn rolled his eyes.

"Not the game, that's not what I mean John. I mean, look…look how beautiful this is." Shawn moved towards John, and stretched his arm out towards the sea view. John didn't even bother to turn around and look for himself.

"I know Kitten, I've been here before. It's one of the best courses, costs a pretty penny to step foot on this green. So my Darlin', can I please have my ball back?"

Shawn glanced down at the ball in his hand, considering.

"Fine you can have it," Shawn said, but his eyes turned to John with a mischievous sparkle. "If you can catch me." He added, and took off sprinting with the ball shoved into his pocket.

John pressed his hand to his face.

"You've got to be kidding me." He mumbled, before dropping his club and taking off after Shawn as quickly as he could. "Michaels, get your ass back here! Are you lookin' to give me a goddamn heart attack!"

Shawn heard John shouting in the distance, and couldn't help but giggle. He turned his head to look over his shoulder and see John stumbling after him some ways behind. He went to call out to John and say something smart assed—but the air was suddenly forced from Shawn's lungs as he went sprawling into the sand. The only sound he made was a grunt, and then he slowly sat up to spit the untasty grains from his mouth.

"Sh-Shaw…" John coughed, not finishing the name. He was huffing and puffing as he stood near Shawn just at the edge of the sand trap, attempting to get his breath back. "Fu…shi…Christ!" John sputtered.

"John, don't do that." Shawn chastised as he always did when John used 'Christ' as a curse. John as usual, paid him no attention.

"You listen here…" John began, still breathing heavily. "You can tell God that one was your fault, for makin' me bust my ass chasin' after you like that." John climbed into the sand trap, and lowered himself down next to Shawn.

"John…you're really ok, aren't you?" Shawn asked, reaching over and swiping the floppy hair off of John's now sticky forehead.

"Sure Kitten, I'm just fine. Out of shape, is all." John added, reaching over to pull Shawn closer. "What's the big deal with stealin' my ball, Heartbreaker?"

Shawn leaned into John, pressing his ear against his chest. John's heart was hammering away quickly, not yet settled back into its resting pace. Shawn dug the small ball out of his pocket, and let it roll from his fingertips, and plop onto the sand.

"I wanted to show you this." Shawn said, nodding towards the sunset scene in front of them.

The sky had since gone a little darker, the pastel hues of the sky shaded to deeper colors, violet, sapphire, fiery orange, and ruby. The ebony black outline of the distant mountains was barely distinguishable. Down below the expanse of ocean winked and waved with patterns from the soft light, and the whitecaps rushed and churned against the rocks.

"Wow." The one word came from John's mouth in an awed whisper.

Shawn just nodded, moving his eyes over the landscape and closer inwards, to the soft shadows of their joined figures that fell as one over the glittery sand. The two of them were completely silent after that one hushed word, which had seemed to so easily sum it all up. Huddled together, they watched as the brilliant hues bled away, seeping into the depths of the ocean, to be replaced by a spilled-ink sky dappled with diamonds. Finally, the peaceful silence was hesitantly broken by a reverent Texan drawl.

"Now that Shawn, gives you a reason to believe in God, don't it?"

John unwrapped his arm from Shawn's shoulders, and exchanged the position for one lying on his back against the cool sand, and staring up at the sky. He was joined moments later by Shawn, who curled up next to him and drew slow circles with his finger against the cotton of John's polo shirt.

"You know what else gives me a reason?" Shawn asked, his voice low, and almost overtaken by the background sounds of the ocean. He didn't mean for John to answer, and didn't give him the chance. He crawled over onto John, and pressed their lips together. Lazily their tongues swirled, exploring places that were so familiar, and yet always seemed new. The subtle wet sounds of their mouths kissing and moving together seemed to melt into the rolling, constant, beat of the tides below. Shawn pulled away finally, leaning up a bit to look deeply into John's honey-colored eyes.

"Shawn," John started, pulling his gaze from Shawn's jewel-like irises and tilting them up instead towards the dark heavens. "You ought not to make me one of those reasons, I'm nothing."

Shawn's hand came to touch John's chin, and urge it back to its prior position, making their eyes meet again.

"John, don't you ever say you're nothing." Shawn's words came serious to his lover, and for a moment everything seemed to stand still around them. "You're everything, John." Shawn whispered, moving close to catch John's lips once more. "You're my everything."

Shawn showed John just how much he meant to him, as the cool sand became their bed, the starry sky their blanket, as their lovemaking made John forget about any meaningless game. The waves continued to crash, splintering and splattering against the shore, keeping secret the sounds of lovers.