Chris laid sprawled on his couch with furrowed brows, tapping his TV remote against his bare chest. It was 1:48AM; a time Chris usually made most of with sleep. Tonight, however, he found himself sat in front of the television unconsciously watching reruns of 'The Simpsons'. There was a business meeting in need of his presence in exactly five hours and forty-two minutes, so what was he doing? That wasn't a difficult question to answer. Chris couldn't sleep because he had too much on his mind, like the fact Denise was yet to read the letter he'd left at her apartment. It was nerve wrecking. He'd left his innermost thoughts and raw feelings in her hands to do with what she wanted. He was the most vulnerable he'd been in a while, which made him wonder how she entrusted her innermost thoughts and raw feelings with strangers every day.

The thing Chris liked about Denise's writing was her honesty, it was the one place she didn't hold back. Everything she wrote, he believed; not once had he ever felt the need to question if what she wrote was how she genuinely felt. It made it hard for him not to loop her in with her various protagonists when they shared such great similarities: who she was, how she felt, and how she spoke. It got to a point where he tried to refrain from reading her writing until he figured out the basis of his feelings; 'tried' being the keyword as he caved every time a notification popped up on his phone informing him she'd posted for the day. It concerned him that he wasn't capable of separating fiction from reality, hence why it took as long as it did for him to admit he was in-love with her.

Chris wasn't naïve. He understood she perfected her characters in ways she couldn't perfect herself, but it didn't change the way he felt about her. He was a flawed human being too, yet she kept him up on the pedestal he'd repeatedly tried to step down from. She had the rare ability to love blindly without judgement; it was what he believed they called unconditional love. It was rare and he felt immensely fortunate to be on the receiving end of such a powerful emotion. He wanted to match that, and he did effortlessly because she was to him as he was to her: utter perfection. As cliché as the saying was, they were indeed a match made in heaven.

Sadly the angels could only match them together, it was completely up to them once they were sent to earth. The journey would've been easier if Father Time didn't make the mistake of adding sixteen years between them. It was a misfortune, the slow progression they were enduring. It was slightly ironic that a lack of honesty was the reason they weren't a couple yet. If they'd sat down and discussed their fears and concerns like they would've in her stories, they wouldn't be in the complication they were currently in. But that was the difference between a story and real life, there was an inability to control and plan everything accordingly.

Since Chris left said letter at said apartment, with each hour that ticked by- he'd been texting Luca asking if Denise had read it yet. Each time, he'd get a text back from Luca telling him the same thing: "she's not home yet." It finally got to the ninth hour at 11:00PM that he stopped texting Luca and texted Denise instead, not to ask about the letter but to see if she was okay. Her response brought forth the other thing that was keeping him up.

Chris had no idea what Denise meant by "I'm perfect." He asked himself if she was perfect because her date with Sam went well, or if she was perfect because she'd read his letter and was happy because she felt the same way. He doubted it was the latter, she couldn't have read the letter already; she wouldn't have just texted if she'd read it. He knew her well and he knew she would've called if she'd read it. Unless she didn't feel the same way, or had changed her mind about him since she heard about Scarlett, and went on her date with Sam. He cussed because he knew he should've addressed the rumor the second it came out. If he'd talk to Denise instead of laughing about it with Scarlett over the phone, he wouldn't be in his current predicament. He wanted to pass the blame on to the media as it was what he was used to, but he didn't because he understood this time the fault was his to retain.

Chris sighed and turned to Dodger. The pup was half asleep, his chest rose and fell with each soft breath. "What am I going to do, bud?" He asked softly, resting a gentle hand on Dodger's head. A slow slide down his dog's soft, furry head soothed him slightly. "I was too afraid to tell her I loved her when I had the chance and now-" He cut himself off with a huff then sighed deeply as he ran his hand down Dodger's head again. "I am such a fucking idiot."

"I'd say."

Chris had been so distracted he didn't hear Denise come in. She'd used the set of keys he'd entrusted her with two weeks after he met her at the airport. He'd told her it was so she could help him with Dodger if ever he was caught up somewhere or was needed in a location other than LA, but the reality was he simply wanted her to have undeniable access to a house he was hoping she'd help turn into a home.

Chris jumped to his feet, just as his heart jumped into his throat. His heart ached when he saw she was crying, not knowing it was out of pure and utter joy as well as love for the man standing before her. Chris' lips parted as he attempted to speak, but no sound came forth. He'd played out a thousand different scenarios in his head and ways to respond, but now it was actually happening- he'd no clue what to say. Dodger was awaken by Chris' abrupt movements and had padded over to the female face he'd grown to love as much as he loved Chris. Denise reached down to pat his head, but her gaze remained lock with Chris'. Chris started towards her, stopping when she took a step back. She held up the letter she'd read four times in the cab ride over with the help of her iPhone's torch. Each time she read it, she fell even harder for Chris; words she wanted to use to form a coherent response danced in her mind. But now, as she stood in front of him, she couldn't speak either.

God, were they made for each other.

"Denise, I'm not dating Scarlett," Chris regained the ability to produce words with his soundbox. Upon hearing those words leave his mouth, he wanted to punch himself. As important as that piece of information was, he wished his first words to her were "I love you." It was what he said next, which drew a fresh set of happy tears from her eyes. "Please don't cry," he pleaded as he took another step towards her, stopping when she held up a hand.

"I'm sorry," she whispered breathlessly. "I just- I need a moment." She saw him nod understandingly, resting a hand on the heart he wished he could slow. "I um- this was-" she held up the letter, smiling. "It's a classic Fan fic Chris move." She stated and they both managed a light laugh. "I had no idea you could write like that, those first two paragraphs-"

"Denise," he interjected, chuckling. "I don't think we need to talk about my writing capabilities right this very second, do you?" He quizzed and she shook her head, swallowing. "You came here to tell me something," he began as he slowly inched closer to her; her heartbeats quickened with each step. "You came here to answer a question, to confess how you feel about me." She nodded slowly as she attempted to regain control of her pounding heart. "So how about," he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her towards him, "we get to that?"

"You're not wearing a shirt," she blurted out and instantly grimaced at how awkward she was. It made Chris laugh because how awkward she was was one of the things he loved about her. "I um..." She couldn't believe how difficult it was to talk around a shirtless Chris; how his female co-stars managed was beyond her. It wasn't like his hands rubbing small, gentle circles into her sides were helping her ability to speak coherently either. "Can you-" She placed a hand on his chest to push him back; the heat from his skin radiated through her palm. "I need some space to think."

"I think we've done enough thinking, don't you?" He took a step forward to return to his original position, but this time a little closer and his grip a little tighter. "I'm done thinking and so are you," he whispered as he dipped his head. With his lips inches from hers, his minty breath warm against her cheeks. "Do you love me?" He asked gently and she felt herself nod as she got lost in his pulchritudinous eyes. Chris was smiling so widely that his pearly whites felt blinding. "Do you want to kiss me?" He asked and got another breathless nod from her. "Good, because I love you and I want to kiss you too."

When his lips touched hers, everything fell into place. She recognized the saying was a cliché she'd used abundantly in quite a few of her stories, but not once had she truly understood or felt what she wrote. Not until now, not until she had Chris' soft and supple lips pressed against hers. It felt so good and so right, and many more clichés played through her mind: "He kissed you like your lips were the air that he needed to breathe", and "he kissed you like there was no tomorrow", and "his lips touched yours and sparks flew."

As his hands gently caressed her face while his lips worked against hers tenderly, attentively, and passionately, she lived through every romantic and breathtaking kiss scene she'd ever written. She felt engulfed in pure, unadulterated magic; lost in euphoria. She was kissing the one she had seen the rest of her life with; it was an experience she chose to categorized under the unexplainable and indescribable.

"Fuck," Chris exhaled when he broke the kiss, resting his forehead against Denise's. "Sorry," he chuckled breathlessly and she shook her head. She could feel how flaming hot her cheeks were, as well as how wide her smile was; it was wider than it'd ever been. "I don't mean to swear in your face, I just- that was fucking amazing. I mean- fuck," he cussed again, releasing a light laugh. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting to do that."

"Why don't you do it again?" Her arms wrapped around his neck as she inched closer to his lips.

Denise didn't have to ask Chris twice. He chuckled and kissed her again, moaning ever so softly into her mouth when her hands found their way into his un-gelled hair. Chris was a gentleman who had no intention of rushing things with the girl he had a immeasurable amount of respect for, but the passion, the romance, and the very obvious lust in the air left him susceptible to avidity.

His hands couldn't resist her; they reached under her thighs and he swiftly lifted her up, coaxing her legs around his waist. She was cognizant of what was happening, and what would happen if she gave carte blanche. She was the kind of girl who promised her mother she'd never rush into things, but Chris had always been the exception her mother knew about and condoned. After reading Denise's series, she failed to see her daughter with anyone else. It was a conscious decision they were both making, it wasn't like he had plans to run out on her the morning after; the letter made it unambiguous she had his heart.

Chris broke the kiss and shared a smile with Denise, carrying her with him as he started towards the stairs. He didn't know who to thank for her, it seemed ideal to just thank every thread in the universe that brought them together. Denise found herself doing the same thing, brushing his bearded cheek with her thumb.

"Will Luca know where you are when she wakes up?" The question was his coy and subtle way of asking for her consent. He wouldn't and couldn't do anything she was unsure or uncomfortable with; he knew the hold he had on her, it was one he'd never use to his advantage.

"I'm sure she'll figure it out," she chewed on her bottom lip.

"Yeah," Chris' smile reached his eyes, "I'm sure she will too."