I wonder if the people on TV actually know how much they're doing wrong. I mean, every time I watch a medical drama it's astounding how awfully inaccurate everything is. I sigh, sitting further back, my hair falling along the back of the couch as my neck cranes up to watch the high definition television. I can't help but laugh as I see the tall dark and handsome 'doctor' walk into a surgery after a thirty second preparation. "Really?" I say aloud to the empty room.

Or not so empty, I guess. I hear high heels clicking down the stairs, and notice that the distant sound of the shower has stopped. "I made breakfast," I say as I hear her enter the main room.

"You are my favouritest physician," she moans as she makes her way toward the couch and her acute sense of smell (particularly for food smells) kicks in. I turn my head slightly to the side and feel her hand briefly touch my shoulder in thanks before she changes her direction and heads for the kitchenette. "Pancakes? Oh you get it, girl."

I smile and shake my head softly. My attention has moved from the mediocre daytime drama to the young girl in the kitchen, her hair wet from the shower, coating the still hot pancakes I've left on the counter for her in syrup. "You know that's not the optimal ratio of maple syrup to pancake," I remark.

For this comment I get sharp glance with the quirky grin I've become quite accustomed to in the past few weeks. "You got beat up in high school, didn't you?" Kenzi says, her tone snarky but lighthearted. Carrying her plate, she makes her way back to the couch and sits close to me. Her hand squeezes my arm. "Thank you for breakfast," she adds, softer.

"I had to do something, didn't I?" I reply. "You sleep so late."

"Bo hated that too," she says, her voice a bit sad.

We're quiet a bit, and we both think about Bo. We do that a lot, I think. She's only been gone a few weeks, on a much needed self discovery trip, but it's hit us both hard. "I miss her," I say simply.

"Me too," replies Kenzi. "But I guess I'd rather she come back and be Bo classic. You know, not a scary succubus killa."

"Kenzi," I say scoldingly. But I agree with her – we want our Bo, not a scared one who can't control herself, or even really be herself.

I watch as Kenzi picks up her fork again and tries to get up all the syrup off the plate with a sodden piece of pancake. "That's not going to work," I tell her. "Your pancake is super saturated."

She laughs at that. "Tell me something," she says, her tone playful now. She leans forward to put her plate on the table (not before quickly popping said piece of pancake into her mouth.) She fixes me in her cool, blueish green gaze. Thick, black mascara accentuates her eyelashes, making them thick and framing her eyes darkly. "Do you just see the world through like, your own little head microscope? Like do scientific equations just pop up on the side of the screen?" She lifts her hand and lightly taps my right temple, smiling now. "Huh? Are you a science robot in there?"

I have to laugh too. Kenzi is… infectious. I reach up to touch her hand, and I slowly entwine my fingers with hers. She stares at me, still grinning goofily, but now something else is in her smile. "Is that what you think?" I say, holding back a smile myself. I bring her hand down from near my head, and hold it in my lap. "That I'm a calculating machine?"

I'm joking and she knows that. But she shrugs. "I used to," she says. Her hand moves in mine, and then I'm not in control anymore as she moves to run a thumb over my hipbone, exposed over the band of my loose jeans. "But I've been getting to know you a little better." My breath catches and she moves closer to me. I can see that mascara clinging to her eye lashes very clearly now. And then – her kiss tastes like maple syrup.

Oh yes, the Kenzi and I thing. That's new, I should probably elaborate on that.

It started because I moved in here after Bo left. As I said before – we were really hit hard, Kenzi and I. Bo had been my girlfriend, and she had been like Kenzi's family. We both loved her so much and even though we knew she had to do this, it was so hard to see her go. We needed each other for that support – someone who knew how hard it was.

We had our differences in the past, but luckily we had just started to put that to the side. We'd united and beat back a small army of crazed pigmen when our Fae friends were acting like teenagers. That was no small feat, and it helped work out some of our issues. When I moved in, I felt like I could trust Kenzi. I felt like I could really talk to her.

There's a common psychological idea – displacement. You can't handle having overwhelming feelings for someone, so you redirect them onto something else. A safer zone. I was conscious of this idea, moving into this house. I've always found Kenzi physically attractive. Her beautiful eyes, her dangerous style and charm. We were just around each other so much, and we were just so emotionally raw. Within a week I woke up in her bed instead of on the couch. It's consistently stayed that way.

When I'm with her, when we're together – you'd think it would feel wrong. But it doesn't. Maybe we're really starting to fall for each other, I don't know.

As she kisses my collarbone and pins me roughly down, I wonder why I even bothered putting on jeans. I pull her t shirt over her head and thank god it was loose today (all those buckles and buttons she wears can be a real nightmare.) As she pushes firmly on top of me and captures my lips again, I wonder if either of us could bear life without the other right now, because I'm not sure we could.

After all, we're only human.