Sawyer woke up when the sun got bright enough in the cool room to rouse him. He rolled over in the spacious bed, reaching for his lover, only to find nothing but cool Egyptian cotton at his fingertips. He opened his eyes and realized that he was alone, but then he heard the gentle thrum of music and the staccato sounds of pots and pans. He realized Jack was in the kitchen.

He smiled to himself and rolled out of bed, reaching for his jeans from the night before, digging out his pack of cigarettes and his Zippo and swaggered over to the dresser naked, before finding a clean pair of Levi's and pulling them on, leaving them unbuttoned. He opened the glass door that comprised one third of the eastern wall and stepped out into what is called the 'Zen rock garden.' He snorted and thinks his gramma had one of these, too. Only it hadn't cost her thousands of dollars and it'd been there when they'd bought their place. He lit up, knowing Jack will rip him a new one when he smells the nicotine and tobacco on his breath.

Sawyer smirked and blew out a bluish stream of smoke, looking forward to it.

He finished his smoke and stubbed it out, throwing the butt in the trash can Jack kept out there for him. He may not like Sawyer's dirty little habit but he hates cigarette butts littering his rock garden more. He stepped back into the air conditioned bedroom and left his Marlboro's and lighter on the night stand. He made his way out to the kitchen to find Jack surrounded by pots, pans and bowls of varying sizes. Jack had flour smeared on one cheek and was wearing a ridiculous rooster oven mitt on one hand. Sawyer bit his lip to refrain from making a joke about that.

"If I'd known you were gonna make me breakfast in bed, I would have stayed there," Sawyer rumbled, voice still sleep rough, leaning on the corner of the island.

Jack whirled, his expression that of a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "S-Sawyer! You're up early, uh... What woke you?"

Sawyer chuckled and straightened up, making his way to stand in front of Jack. He took his thumb and wiped off the smear of flour, making Jack blush. "Why, doc, I thought we were well past the blushing stage in our relationship."

Jack laughed and looked at the floor intently for a minute before meeting Sawyer's gaze. "We are. I just. Well. Do you know what today is?"

Sawyer paused, trying to remember what month it was. Being a kept man made the days blend into one another sometimes. His eyes widened and he smiled, a genuine smile, when he realized.

"You sentimental idiot. Today's the anniversary of the first time we slept together, back on the island." Sawyer wasn't going to point out that him knowing the exact date pretty much made him just as much of a sentimental idiot as it did Jack.

Jack's cheeks flushed again as he hooked an arm around Sawyer's neck and pressed their foreheads together, before doing the same with their mouths.

"Happy anniversary," He whispered.

Sawyer had to agree. It was a happy anniversary.