Fandom:	Houston Knights
Series:	Other Authors
Rating:	NC-17
Pairing:	Joe/Levon
Archive:	Starwinder's
Title:	On Waking Before Him: Joe's Thoughts
Author:	Katherine Lehman
e-mail:	ksl2025@yahoo.com
Standard Disclaimer: Houston Knights belongs to Jay Bernstein and Michael Butler and Columbia Pictures. No copyright infringement is intended. This is fan fiction, written out of love for the shows. I am making no money off this. I have no money so please don't sue me. Any original characters that may appear in these stories are the property of the author.

On waking Before Him: Joe's Thoughts
By Katherine Lehman

I woke up slowly, leaving my eyes closed to better enjoy the moment. I like being able to take my time, but it's a rare pleasure. Too damn busy most of the time, putting in too many hours with too little sleep. Last few days were no exception. Double shifts and late night stakeouts. God, but it gets old.

Who knew that just being able to sleep a normal eight hours in my own bed could be such a treat? Just stretching out in bed, knowing I can just roll over and go back to sleep is the height of decadence a guilty pleasure I fully intend to enjoy.

It is also unusual for me to be awake before Levon. Man is a morning person. That in itself I can't help but think of as unnatural. I mean, who in his right mind would get up at the crack of dawn every day if he didn't have to? Only my partner. But this morning, I am awake before he is. I can tell because his breathing is slow, and deep, a comforting constant right next to me. We didn't finish up at the station until three o'clock in the morning. Levon talked Joanne into giving us the day off if all the paperwork was on her desk by nine. So we stayed to finish the paperwork. I don't remember actually filling out any forms. I sat down at my desk and everything is sort of blank until I hear Levon calling my name, and telling to sign my name at the bottom of a form he's placing in front of me. I must have fallen asleep at my desk. I vaguely remember him driving us to my place. It was closer, and I wasn't the only one who was tired. I remember him undressing me and tucking me into bed. Gotta love a man who will do paperwork for you, and make sure you get to bed.

Speaking of loving the man... I open my eyes to see him. Waking up before him means I get to just look at him for awhile. It isn't often I get to simply study him. Usually the job distracts me, or he distracts me. And I enjoy it immensely when its Levon who distracts me... but still I love being able to just look at him.

My cowboy really is beautiful. I know he doesn't think of himself that way, but in this case his opinion doesn't matter. His blond curls are in their typical morning disarray. I love this wild look first thing in the morning. I have a suspicion that he only wears that Stetson every day because it tames his curls into some semblance of order. I like them better the way they are right now, but try as I might I can't convince him to just leave the hat at home. I love running my fingers through his hair. Each curl winding its way around my fingers, so soft, like yellow silk. I know from past experience that he won't wake up if I play with his hair. If anything he will slip deeper into sleep. He's like a cat in that regard.

I run my fingers through his hair, massaging lightly at the same time. I am rewarded with a sleepy smile and a sigh. He snuggles closer to me. I think if he really were a cat, I'd hear him start to purr about now. That thought makes me smile. I have heard him purr on occasion. There will be time for that later today.

Right now I just want to drink in the sight of him. This is the only time I get a chance to see him totally relaxed. For such a laid back kind of guy, he is really active most of the time. He hardly ever sits still doing nothing. Not that he's hyperactive about it... just more or less constantly busy. Something of a workaholic I suppose. I think that's what keeps him so lean, despite the crap I see him eat every day.

Funny how different we are in appearances. Being Italian, my complexion is darker than his is. Only place on him that comes even close to my skin tone is where the sun hits him. The rest of his skin is this incredible cream color.

I've been fascinated by that color contrast more than once. Still the color doesn't interest me half as much as the feel of him. I spent one night just concentrating on the feel of his skin. Reminds me of the feel of my satin sheets... warm, smooth, and incredibly soft. I know he has similar thoughts about me. He said once that touching me was like the feel of steel wrapped in silk. Who knew my cowboy was a poet?

Everything about us is sort of night and day. My hair is straight and dark. His hair curls and is blond. My eyes are blue... although according to Levon they change color with my mood or what I'm wearing. He says he likes them best when they are black. His eyes are a warm, dark brown. Sometimes I feel as though I could get lost in the depths of his eyes. Like he's seen into my soul, and what he saw there wasn't something he should be afraid of.

I work out regularly and have the body to prove it. I don't think Levon's worked out since he stopped playing football. But he has the form a physically active man. He's all lean muscle and long bones, not an ounce of extra flesh on him anywhere. You would think that he'd be bony because of that, but he isn't. Reminds me of an artist's drawing. Or maybe Michaelangelo's David.

His hands really turn me on. Always have. Long, lean fingers that are almost delicate for a man. Beautiful hands he has, the kind of hand you expect to see on an artist. I never get tired of the feel of them. My own hands are blunter and broader than his. Levon described them as the hands of an honest man.

Not really sure if he meant that or if he was teasing me. I hope he meant it. I shift position a little so I can see his face better. He looks so much younger when he's asleep. Cliche expression that, but its true. I can almost picture what he must have looked like as a little boy. I am almost sorry that I missed meeting him then. What little he's told me of his childhood... well, it wasn't good. I've never met his father, and I think that's probably a good thing.

The last few days had both of us running almost non-stop. I'd almost forgotten what he looked like without dark circles under his eyes. The tension lines in his face are gone. God, but he is breath-taking. I lean closer to nuzzle his shoulder, just a quick kiss. He shifts a little in his sleep in response to my touch, and murmurs my name. Makes it sound like a benediction when he does that.

Creature of habit my cowboy. Sleeps only on his back or his left side. I found out the first night we spent together that he can't get comfortable on his right side. I never asked him, but I think his shoulder bothers him.

There are a lot of things I don't ask about. He's not very forthcoming about himself. I'm not sure why. Its not like he's got anything to be ashamed or embarrassed about. I found out early in our partnership that if I wanted to know all the details, I'd have to go elsewhere to get them.

Once we were partnered officially in Major Crimes I went in search of his file. I wanted to find out what kind of cop I'd be working with. Our first meeting was less than ideal, and I totally read him wrong. Joanne had filled me in on his wife's murder, and to be honest it just whetted my appetite to know more about one Levon Lundy. My first impression of him simply didn't jive with what I read in his file. I stuck it out with him because despite our numerous disagreements, I never seriously wanted to be partnered with anyone else. When we finally got together as more than friends and partners, I had this need to know everything about him. So I looked up all the information on him that I could find. I could have asked... he would have told me, but I was afraid he'd take it the wrong way or would only give me the bare essentials.

I found an article about his mother's death. She died in a car accident when he was very young. He never talks about her, but I think he must have been very close to her. I know she was beautiful. He's got pictures of her hanging at his house. He's got pictures of family and friends that fill an entire wall.

It wasn't until I started researching him that I realized every picture hanging in his house is some tie to his past. His mother, his grandmother, his grandfather. Several cousins. Friends I'd never met. Bobby and Caroline. Not one picture of his father... or me. I asked him once why my picture wasn't on his wall. He said he didn't have one. I made damn sure he got one and hung it on that wall. Childish attitude on my part really, but I there was no way in hell that I was going to be absent from his visual history.

There were numerous articles about his football career. He was good. Really good. If he hadn't injured his shoulder he could have turned pro. I would never wish him any pain, but I am selfishly glad that he couldn't play pro ball. If he hadn't hurt his shoulder, we might never have met. I don't think I would have liked my life much if I hadn't met him.

I kiss his shoulder again, tracing a faint scar with my tongue. I know every single scar intimately. Places where he's been shot, stabbed, or otherwise marked for life. Thanks to my research I know the stories behind each one as well. Some were job related, some were from before he became a cop. He knows all of mine as well. I can clearly remember when he stripped me down and sought out each one, erasing any left over pain with gentle kisses. Makes me hard just thinking about it.

I can feel Levon starting to join the land of the living. He always stretches out full length and then slowly recoils right before he wakes up. It isn't long before I am rewarded with the opening of sleepy brown eyes and a smile. He reaches to cup my face, and kiss me deeply. His voice is fuzzy and a little rough as he wishes me a good morning.

Oh yes. It is definitely a good morning.

The End