Chapter 1: Just One Night
Four Eighths
a/n: I blame Kavi for this completely. She and her prompts...
This time the prompt was to have two agents, any two, who previously had some sort of "one night stand" type arrangement stranded together longer than one night because of some sort of natural disaster/inclement weather/what have you. I'm not going to tell you yet who the two agents are I've picked; hence the very short lil intro tease chapter.
I've rated it T, because M is a bit too strong. There will be definite...ah...suggestive bits, but nothing terribly blatant.
Enjoy, and let me know what you think with a review!
Chapter 1: Just One Night
And tomorrow,
Back to being friends.
Lovers...love...lovers
Just for tonight, one night.
And tomorrow say goodbye.
-Dave Matthews, "Say Goodbye"
It had started on a whim. They'd been drinking. The case had been a bitch (though, honestly, when hadn't the case been a bitch?). The rest of the team had retired to their various hotel rooms, and the two of them were left in the bar alone. The place was nearly empty; last call had come and gone.
"Come on," he had said, throwing a sloppy arm across her shoulders. "Let me walk you to your room." He had staggered then, he remembered, because it made her giggle. She never giggled; laughed, of course, but giggled? That had been something altogether new. He had stared at her through drink-hazed eyes. "You just giggled."
"Did not," she'd denied, swaying a little. "I was just thinking...you can barely stand up straight. How are you going to walk me to my room?" She had been enunciating very carefully, testing each word before letting it go.
"I am fine. You are drunk. Therefore, I will be a gentleman and escort you to your room. That bartender is giving us a funny look, so let's go."
She had conceded his point, and they'd made their uneven way to the elevator. He remembered that elevator ride. It was seared into his brain like a brand. They had been standing together staring up at the escalating numbers when she turned her head and kissed him softly, sensuously, on the neck, just below the corner of his jaw. The silky wetness of her tongue against his skin had sent a jolt straight through him.
Unfortunately his memories grew hazy after that, but he did recall waking up the next morning lying sideways across her bed with a pounding head. They had both been naked. He had had several bite marks on his chest. Hhmm.
The second time it happened, they weren't drunk. They were in a bar again, sure, but he'd been sipping club soda, and she'd only had one beer. They were alone again. She had brought it up, her voice deceptively casual as she said, "Hey, look at the date."
"The date?"
She had stared at him, the look on her face something between hope and hurt, expectation and resignation. "January eighth."
His face had clouded, cleared. "Oh. January eighth. Seattle."
"Seattle. One year ago tonight."
"Um. You know. I was pretty drunk..."
The smile had brightened her face, subtracted care. "Me too."
"I'm not drunk tonight."
"Me neither."
The silence had been profound, and he remembered wondering which one of them would suggest it first...
"Your room or mine?" she'd asked, her expression going wicked.
His memories of that night were crystal clear.
The third time needed none of the coy dancing the second time had. It was January eighth; they were once again out of town on a case, and this time he just showed up at her door. She had smiled at him; opened the door wider to let him in.
His memories of that night still made him blush.
Now it was closing in on their fourth January eighth. He knew he should stay away from her. He knew he wouldn't. She was like an addiction, a heady drug he couldn't get enough of. The more logical part of his mind wondered how long they could go on like this: they worked together, and the others were bound to notice something eventually. The repercussions for their careers were potentially disastrous.
The other, larger part of his mind didn't give a damn.
He decided, for once, to follow his instincts rather than his logic. One night was worth the risk. She was worth the risk. He stared at the calendar, willing the days to pass more quickly, and at last January 8, 2010 dawned, a lovely sprinkle of snow ushering in the sun reborn.