Author warning: BEWARE FLUFF. It will consume you. At any rate, this fic is set post-series. To read it I think you have to suspend belief a bit. Just imagine that Amon and Robin have been through hell and back, and have finally gotten their deserving reward; respite. I guess I've been re-reading too much TDL/TBT/Binah, and my head is filled with ways to reward poor Amon and Robin for their trials.

As usual, I have written this fic at a semi-ungodly hour of the night, therefore there will probably be many errors. I apologize to the first group of readers. I'll go over it again in the morning when I can think like a normal human being…

Edit: So I've finally gone back and edited this shizzle. Instead of doing it like a normal human being would, and JUST EDITING IT, I instead added lots more, so it's fairly different now. Go check it out, even if you already have, or better yet, check it out if you haven't!

Disclaimer: Witch Hunter Robin does not belong to me…bitches n' ho's.

Amon awoke slowly, pushing himself up from the white sheets and blearily trying to blink the sleep from his eyes. Holding himself up by his arms Amon shook his head lightly, still trying to rid himself of the fog of sleep. His dark, rumpled hair fell around his face in waves; he half-heartedly reminded himself that it would probably need a good combing if he was to venture outside of the house that day without looking like a complete ruffian. The bed was warm and Amon turned, flopping himself onto his back and sinking back into the fluffy pillows.

The sun was shining brightly and it tickled his bare chest as it danced across his skin, tempting him, and teasing him to awaken fully and come outside. Glancing toward the beckoning sun, Amon's eyes wandered helplessly over to the small form still slumbering on, a small space from where he lay. The covers and blankets were turned around her, twisted and tangled. The sunlight sifting in around them cast an almost whiter glow on the already white sheets; it reflected and refracted off her already pale skin, making her glow as well.

Amon mused, settling back to watch for any sign of wakefulness, appreciating the dips and curves of the white cloth mingling with her pale body.

He loved to watch her sleep, but he loved even more to watch her awaken. To see her blink her green orbs open, her form move upwards. The sheet would fall from her, revealing her naked body, still retaining that ethereal glow, as though they had made love all night (which sometimes had been the case).

He loved to watch her stretch and arch, absorbing the morning light as if it were her life's essence. Gods, the light, the way it bounced off her hair, made her eyes shine, made her come alive under its touch.

It was like falling in love with her all over again.

Amon always gave himself a pat on the back for convincing her to take the side of the bed close to the window. He reaped the rewards every morning. She had rejected it at first, saying that he was the one who needed more sunlight, but he had been persistent, and she had acquiesced. She was always trying to get him outside, get him to absorb the world and the light, she said he deserved it, though who knew who put that thought in her head.

She was obviously much more a creature of the light than he was; she basked in it, reveled in it. He had hated to see her cooped up and shadowed while they were still running. Her already pale skin had grown to an almost deathly white. It hadn't been good for her, so now, now that he could, he was going to give her all the damn sunlight that was within his power to give.

She deserved it, she really did.

He had already begun to see a change. Looking over and appraising her small body, eyes roving over a gold-tinted leg that had found its way from the chaos of their bed sheets. She was already starting to tan, a small, barely there tan, but a tan nonetheless. Amon realized that if one didn't use careful observation, the tan would not even be noticeable. Thankfully, Amon was a careful observer.

Pushing himself to sit fully, unsupported by his hands, Amon turned his body so that he was facing her. His hands were itching to reach out and touch her, but he folded them solemnly and just looked. It was Robin-watching time. The small slot in the early morning where he was awake and she wasn't, the time where he made all of his careful, professional observations. He would observe her for any developments in tan, or if she had any more sun streaks in her hair, or if there had been any new freckles. Freckles, Amon had noticed, were beginning to dot her face from her continued exposure to the sun, and (God help him) he thought they were cute.

Sometimes Robin would awaken to find him watching her, but she was never startled. She would smile that innocent, sexy smile that he had become so fond of and make her way from the sheets, into his arms. He was a bit perplexed as to why she wasn't startled, Amon thought it seemed a bit… creepy. Any other woman probably would think it was creepy, but not Robin. Nothing surprised her, and she was almost frighteningly intuitive. Robin probably knew, or expected it. Even when she was sleeping she probably knew, fueled by that same Robin-intuition. Amon surmised that Robin-intuition was probably even stronger than the fabled woman's intuition. It was most likely going to get him into trouble one of these days.

Amon sat fixated, he loved to watch her. He loved to watch her in the sunlight, watch the light touch so much of her. It was able to caress and warm every turn and dip in her slender form, and despite himself, Amon sometimes found himself a bit jealous. If it became too much, Amon would stop his Robin-watching and steal over to her side of the bed, invade the claim the light held on her, lift her still slumbering form into his arms and caress her as she awoke. The light couldn't be the only one to touch and warm her.

Though, sometimes, Amon even felt bad for the light. It only really had her completely when she was waking. After which she would crawl over to him, nuzzling him awake if he wasn't already, or curling into his touch happily if she was already in his arms.

Amon would hold her tightly every morning, before the two escaped from the warm haven of their bed to start their day. There was no rush; plenty of time for cuddling in their warm, big bed, with the white sheets and the large black comforter. White and black, yin and yang, Amon and Robin. He shook his head, too much philosophy for early in the morning.

Amon continued to muse, realizing he had dubbed their early morning activities as cuddling. Cuddling. Amon never thought he would term that as something that he would ever want to do with a woman. But, as with everything involving himself and Robin, it was different. Amon found that when it came to Robin he often had these uncontrollable urges to cuddle, snuggle, and perform other actions that could only be termed with words equally as fluffy. Nagira would go to town with that one.

Every morning he would thank whatever God existed that had allowed him and his mate this peace; this pure undiluted happiness. Sometimes Amon would find himself thinking back.

…..

"Amon?" Robin stirred against his form, the new feeling of her naked skin, brushing against his teasingly as she shifted, making him shiver.

"Yes?" He replied softly, his mind and body in a comfortable hazy fuzz. It was very much akin to being slightly drunk; he was warm and his body tingled. By the way Robin shuddered as he ran a hand down her side he expected she was having similar feelings.

"What are we going to do if all this ever stops, the running, if we're left alone?" Her small face turned then, lifting up slightly to look into his sable eyes. Her cheeks were still flushed, and her green eyes were warm.

"Hmm, a good question. What would you like to do, Robin?" Amon answered softly, their faces close enough that his normal gruff voice would have broken the pristine feel of the moment.

Robin snuggled her face into his neck and breathed out slowly. "I'd like to go back to Tuscany." She shrugged, turning her face up to his again.

"What would we do in Tuscany, have a house, or would you demand that we both live in a nunnery, and that I become a priest?" Robin's eyebrows lowered and her mouth fell open.

"Amon, I-." Her eyes crinkled then, sensing the amusement dancing in his.

She smiled then, a small, gentle Robin-smile. Amon could feel his heart melting as she began to gently chastise him for his suggestion, thinking all the while that nighttime banter in bed together with Robin was something he could very well get used to.

"No, not a nunnery, rather," Robin blushed then, trying to hide her further smile. "I'd like a house, a small house, with a nice view, and windows, lots of windows!"

"Windows?" Amon queried, raising an eyebrow at her and shifting her in his arms, letting their legs tangle together even further underneath the sheets.

Robin rested her chin on his chest, looking up at him with bright, excited eyes. "Yes, big windows! The convent was always so dark, the only real windows were those in the church, but even then the light couldn't come through completely due to the stained glass."

Amon smiled then, a true smile, it lit up his face like a beacon in the night. "Windows then," he said leaning down to kiss her gently on the bridge of her nose. Robin giggled, slightly. "And what will we do in our house, with all of its windows?"

Robin's eyes squinted some, and they seemed to distance for a moment, her mind working. She settled her gaze back on him, looking perplexed. "Well, what would you do?"

Amon grinned evilly. "I," he proclaimed darkly, lowering his face to her level, "would make love to you every night." Robin's eyes widened, and the residual pink blush on her cheeks seemed to darken. Amon nosed her face gently, tickling her with the curtains of his dark hair. "Then I'd make you breakfast?" Robin grinned at him then, her blush still tingeing her cheeks.

…

She was stirring now, rolling onto her side to face him, her skin haloed by the warm Tuscan sun. Making his move, Amon glanced briefly out the window before moving to bridge the space between them and scooping her into his arms. Cuddle time. Sitting up, he positioned her so that she was curled in his lap, her body already responding to him, her arms lacing around him.

"Mmm, Amon." She murmured sleepily.

His hands traveled up and down her naked back, making obscure patterns over her bed-warm skin. He bent his head, resting his cheek against the not-so-blondness of her head. "Robin, wake up."

She lifted her head slowly, green eyes blinking awake, as Amon's had minutes before. Sunlight danced across her cheeks, her eyes, her lips. "Are you making breakfast?"

He smiled. "Yes."