Yen

You know the drill. Real people, fictional story.

I’m sure the Emmys have given lots of inspiration, how could they not? Here’s one take on where that inspiration had led me.

The lights are down and Chris slips his hand into Mariska’s to lead her to their seats. The seat fillers move as they approach and Chris grins when he looks at the row behind them. He was supposed to be sitting in the second row, with Peter next to Mariska.

It feels more than anything that they’re on a date, like a married couple finally getting a night out while the kids are at home with a babysitter. He has her undivided attention and he’s reveling in it.

He watches as she laughs at the show, taking in the way she turns toward him as if to make sure that he’s enjoying everything too. She puts her hand on his arm and he stops himself from checking his watch to see how much longer they have to stay. His breathing slows when she presses herself against his side.

“I want to leave,” she whispers.

“Your category hasn’t even come up yet.”

“Please, I’m not going to win.”

“You’re having fun though,” he responds.

“But we could be having more fun,” she tells him.

He wants nothing more than to kiss her, right then and there. He wants to hold her face in his hands while she opens her mouth to him so that he can taste her. He wants to rest his forehead against hers when they need a moment to breathe.

They find time for everything else: the heat; the desire; the release. And as comfortable as they’ve grown in public displays of affection, there’s still a certain level of restraint shown. What he really wants is to be able to keep her hand in his as long as he wants and to be able to kiss her without having to make it look staged.

Moving her bangs back into place, he looks her up and down. Alright, he could go for the kind of fun that she has in mind.

He clears his throat. “Soon.”

She smiles, knowing that they’re on the same page.

+++

She’s three drinks in and can feel his breath on her neck. She should probably be more concerned since they’re in the middle of a party, but she tilts her head back and tries to will him closer to her. His arm wraps around her, his hand splaying across her stomach, and she sighs.

He’s been glued to her side all night and she has no complaints. She laughed to herself each time a male friend came to talk to her and Chris managed to get closer to her or work his way into the middle of the conversation, verbally and physically. It’s obvious that he wants her to himself, and the feeling is mutual.

Turning away from him, she sets her empty glass down and reaches for her purse.

“Next party?” she asks.

He nods, knocking back the last of his own drink.

With a hand on the small of her back, he starts toward the exit.

When they get in the limo, she surprises him by telling the driver to take them back to the hotel. Once they pull away from the curb, she puts up the privacy partition.

“What –”

“Don’t act like you don’t know why we’re going back to the hotel,” she says.

Her arms are around his neck and she pulls herself toward him. He grabs her hips as she kisses his neck. Her lips move across his jaw line and the up to his mouth. Their movements are slow and deliberate.

Tonight he doesn’t want to fuck her; he wants to be with her.

+++

Closing the door to the hotel room, he finds her waiting on the bed for him. He drinks in the sight of her while loosening his tie.

“You look gorgeous,” he tells her.

She reaches up to take down her hair and pulls the flower out of her hair. Her hands rest in her lap and she looks down, turning the flower over. Chris sits next to her and turns her chin toward him.

“Hey,” he says.

She rests her head on his shoulder and smiles.

“Do you remember the song we danced to at my wedding?” she asks.

“Of course I do.”

He kisses her forehead before he starts to hum the chorus. Winding her arms around his waist, she shifts and covers his mouth with hers.

She pulls back and tells him, “I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Me too, Babe.” He pecks at her lips as he lowers her down on the bed. “Me too.”

+++

Mariska opens her eyes and turns to look at the alarm clock. It’s after 4 in the morning and there’s no way she wants to be awake. She feels Chris stir next to her and briefly contemplates going back to her suite. His arm tightens around her and she closes her eyes, the thought leaving her mind.

She’s right where she wants to be.

Tease

Hey! Remember me? Maybe?

Well, I’m back. Let me reintroduce myself … I’m Roxy. I write fiction about inappropriate co-stars. Is this ringing a bell?

I’m happy to report that my muse is back. I’m working on a new something-something & resurrecting some of my former projects. While I get back to the grind (heh), here’s a little drabble that I wrote after some prodding a little while back. When I say little, I mean little – you’ve been warned!

Mariska has never been the type of person to hold back. Maybe it’s all the years of struggling, but when she wants something she goes for it with her all.

Chris has always loved that about her. Things take hold of her and she proceeds with her whole heart put in to whatever she’s doing. It makes her who she is and it makes her irresistible.

And if she were any one else, it would get her in trouble.

“Grab my ass,” she says.

It doesn’t matter that there’s a crew full of people around them. It doesn’t matter that there’s a camera trained on them. She says what’s on her mind.

His skin reddens and he laughs as she lets out a hiss before the small fit of laughter. He shakes his head, trying to clear his mind. With her, he has to roll with the punches. Sometimes he thinks she’s just trying to keep him on his toes.

The camera keeps rolling and the laughter finally dies down. Just as they get through a practice run of their lines, he feels her palm his ass. He slips his hand into her back pocket while keeping a straight face. They stand there as though nothing’s happened, because really this is a common occurrence. He gives her a pinch before removing his hand and before he knows it, her hand has also been retracted.

+++

“Grab my ass,” she tells him.

His hands slide down her body until they reach her ass. He thrusts forward harder as he pulls her toward him. She pants in his ear and if she could divide her concentration at the moment, she would grin.

There’s a reason she never holds back. If she did, she would miss out on so much.

See You in Hell

The title is more of a shout out to the person this was written for more than the actual story, although I did use the word “hell” on several occasions. This will be a multi-part story, but probably only two parts. Here’s part one!

Happy birthday, you know who!

Pairing: Emily Deschanel & David Boreanaz

Part one:

Emily had no ulterior motives when she invited her cast mates over for an end-of-the-season party. After a great season, she wanted to get everyone together for some fun before the summer hiatus. She wanted to celebrate the wonderful friendships she’s made over the years.

Honestly, she hadn’t been looking for an excuse to see David. Those seemed to pop up out of the blue any way. He had seemed to stop looking for excuses, asking her out for drinks or inviting himself over for dinner. She had stopped pretending that his time and attention were unwanted.

Now, as she carries an empty tray into the kitchen, she wonders if this was a mistake. It’s one thing that they’re around their cast members on set while they touch and flirt. It’s another story when they’re in her house and he’s a bit too familiar with everything, including her. Especially her.

She hears the door to the butler’s pantry swing open and feels his arms wrap around her waist. He’s close, too close, and his lips are next to her ear.

“You look gorgeous,” he tells her.

For a moment, she stays still and lets him hold her. She doesn’t let the thought of their castmates in the other room bother her. She doesn’t let herself regret her decision to throw the party so that she could have time alone with him. Nor does she let herself wonder if he’ll stay longer than everyone else.

He’s not surprised when she slips out of his arms. Setting the tray down, she leans against the counter. As if they’re magnets, he moves with her.

A smile is spread across her face.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she says. “We should get back out there though.”

“Yeah,” he agrees.

When she pushes away from the counter, he grabs her hand to stop her. She automatically turns toward him and he can see the laughter in her eyes even though it’s silent.

Her eyes close before his mouth descends upon hers. Ignoring the flutter in her stomach that reminds her they could be caught any second, she gives in to him. Not wanting to push his luck, he pulls back after a minute.

“I’ll see you back out there.”

He takes a fresh platter out with him to explain his absence.

+++

The house is empty, save for her and David. After clearing the last of the wine glasses and beer bottles, she plops down on the couch next to him. Her hand rests against his stomach, her head against his shoulder, and she could fall asleep right then and there.

Curiosity gets the best of her though.

Her sister had stopped by the party for a little while. While Emily was busy talking to Tamara, she noticed Zooey pull David aside. She didn’t have a chance to ask what it was about before Zooey drifted out.

“So what did Zooey talk to you about earlier?”

“Oh, she told me not to get you wasted again.”

They both laugh, although Emily’s cheeks flush a bit in embarrassment. She vaguely remembers the night she went out drinking with David and wound up knocking on her sister’s door in the middle of the night. Zooey had let her in and then found David’s number to find out what the hell had happened.

Emily hadn’t sought out her sister to be taken care of though; she had needed a listening ear. Despite her state, or maybe because of it, she let loose all of her feelings about her co-star. She had hinted around previously, and Zooey never pushed, figuring that when the time was right it would come out. Of course, she hadn’t imagined it would involve copious amounts of alcohol.

“And she told me not to break your heart,” he says in a hushed tone.

She picks her head up to look at him. Meeting her eyes, he tries to give her a smile but it won’t show.

“I don’t know why she would say that,” Emily says.

“I do,” he tells her. “And so do you, Emily.”

When she tries to look away, he cups her chin in his hand.

“I don’t ever want to hurt you. If that means that I can’t be with you like this, then I’ll understand. I know that things are … they’re fucked up, my family life, and it’s not fair to you to drag you into my world any more than I already have.”

“David, you didn’t rope me into any of this. We’ve both made these decisions. If you don’t want this, then you need to let me know now. For me, what would hurt is continuing if we aren’t both in this together.”

“You sure?”

She leans back into him, her weight more present on him than before. He knows the answer, but he needs to hear it from her.

“Yes. You aren’t the only one who’s fucked up.”

He laces his fingers with hers, looking for more physical contact.

“You’re not fucked up.”

She laughs. “You’re married. And we’re … whatever we are. It’s not perfect and it does bother me, but I can’t give you up either. That’s not fucked up?”

“Maybe a little.”

“Thanks, that helps,” she tells him as she nudges him.

“I know you want more from this, and so do I. It’s the plan, Emily, I swear. Things just got so complicated and it’s not the right time right now.”

She doesn’t want to talk. She doesn’t want to hash things over again. In all honesty, she never thought things would happen in the timeframe they had discussed. It would make things too easy, and that’s not how her love life goes. Hell, she fell for a married man. It’s not something she’s proud of and that’s a huge part of the reason it took a boat load of liquor to divulge anything to her sister.

What she wants is to be wrapped up in his arms for the rest of the night. What she wants is for him to stay with her until morning. She never asks that of him though, she doesn’t have it in her to do that.

Glancing at the time, she sighs. “You should probably be heading home.”

“Didn’t I tell you? Jaime and the kids are out of town for the weekend.”

“Oh?”

“I might have suggested they go visit her parents once I found out when you were scheduling the party,” he confesses.

“Did you?” She tries to sound nonchalant, although she’s not sure why. They’ve laid everything out on the table so many times before tonight.

“Mhm,” he murmurs as he places his head on top of hers. “But I can head out now if you want.”

“You can stay … as long as you want,” she says.

“I’ve always wanted to make an egg-substitute-omelet,” he responds.

+++

The Blur in Reality

I’m sure I’m not the only one to dabble in some post-100th episode RPF, but how can you not?!

Pairing: Emily Deschanel & David Boreanaz

He stands there, looking at her, and he can’t hold back the tears. She gives him a brief looking, wondering if they should stop the scene, but he doesn’t give her the nod. They continue, feeding off of the raw emotion they’re both feeling. When they walk away and someone yells “cut,” they don’t turn back. They keep walking, her arm linked with his, until they’re alone.

“You okay?” she whispers.

Turning to face her, he slides his arm around her waist. Their foreheads meet and she can feel his wet nose against hers. A gasp forces her mouth open as her chest heaves.

“I didn’t think it would be that …”

“Me neither,” he says.

When they got the script for the 100^th episode they both knew it would be a difficult one to film. After reading it, he called her and they let the silence consume them. It was easier to leave things unsaid at the time.

But now the tears have left their mark on his cheek and there’s no way to play it off as part of the scene. He could lie and say it was his take as the director, but he knows she’ll see right through him.

She swipes his cheek with her fingers and laughs softly.

“We’re a mess,” she tells him.

“Em,” he says, pulling her closer.

Closing her eyes, she rests her hands on his shoulders. For five years, they’ve done their best to dance around their feelings. It’s all a vain attempt, because they’ve always known. There have been slip ups though. There have been moments where they give in to each other, their lips meeting and their thoughts going out the window. They’ve never slept together, but that makes their affair all the more meaningful and hurtful. It’s not about the physical, it never has been.

She doesn’t push him away and he can finally breathe.

“I don’t know if I can do this.” Her voice is broken and uncertain.

“I’m not asking anything of you.”

“No, I mean … David, I can’t pretend any more. I can’t pretend that I don’t have feelings for you and I can’t act like I don’t want more. I do, I want more than this.”

“So do I.”

She draws closer to him and smiles when his grip tightens around her. His mouth works its way up her neck before she turns her head to catch his lips. He can sense the abandon: This kiss is different than any they’ve shared in the past. This time he’s the one who ends it.

“You’re sure? You aren’t just saying this because … because of the scene?”

“I’d be lying if I said it didn’t have a part in it, but no. I really mean it. I’ve always known that it needs to be more, I just wasn’t as willing to admit it as you.”

“So what does this mean? Where do we go from here?”

“I broke up with Dave.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t about you. Well, I guess a little. I just didn’t feel right being with him when my heart wasn’t in it.”

“Wow. I can’t, not when –“

“I don’t expect you to leave … I know it’s not good timing.”

She knows he’s not happy at home, more so lately than ever. He tried, when Jaime was pregnant and Bardot was born, but it backfired. Instead, he’s wound up spending less time at home and more time with Emily. He confides in her, expresses his concern about breaking up his family. And he knows how it would look if he broke up with Jaime and publicly got together with Emily – if that were an option. He doesn’t care how it would look for him, but he wouldn’t put that on her. Instead, he’s miserable to be around unless Emily is involved.

“I don’t know where to go from here, to be honest. I just know that I need you.”

“Hey.” He tucks his finger under her chin to get her to look up. “You have me. You’ve always had me. I’ve given you the space you wanted, even though – You know I didn’t like it. But you have always had me, don’t ever think differently.”

“I know.” She pecks his lips quickly. “We should probably head back.”

+++

They’ve wrapped up filming and David’s in his dressing room. There’s a knock at the door before it opens.

“Hi,” she says as she lets herself in. she sits next to him on the couch and his arm automatically slings over her shoulder.

“Do you want to grab a bite to eat?” he asks.

“Take out? I have a bottle of wine at home.”

“Yeah? That sounds great.”

“Meet me there in an hour?”

“I’ll see you then,” he agrees.

She leans her head against his shoulder instead of getting up right away. His thumb moves in circles on her arm. They both know that tonight will bring a huge change in their relationship, but they’re ready. The most important change has already been made.

The Kindle in the Fire

Originally posted: 26 September 2009

Pairing: Emily Deschanel & David Boreanaz

The wine is flowing and Emily feels her face begin to flush. She’s glad that she decided to go to the party, even if it was last minute. She needed a night out, away from her usual routine which was anything but comfortable.

The deep red liquid sways in the glass as she walks. Turning a corner, she does a double take. She thought he would be at home with his wife. Yet, there he is. His back is facing her, but she knows it’s him.

He turns, as if he can feel her eyes on him. A smile lights up his face and she can’t help but laugh: he almost looks like a kid on Christmas morning. Excusing himself from the conversation, he makes his way toward her.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” he says.

His lips land dangerously close to hers as he greets her with a kiss. She can smell the alcohol on his breath mixed with his cologne.

“I wasn’t going to come. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I needed a night out,” he tells her.

Taking a swig of his drink, he looks her up and down. His eyes settle back on hers.

“What?” she asks.

“Nothing.”

He puts his drink down and takes her hand in his, walking toward the door leading outside. The night is dark and the garden is dimly lit. He keeps walking until the drift of conversations stop, until they can barely hear the hum of the music.

Finding a bench, he sits down and she follows. Her glass is set down on the ground, the liquid untouched. Her hand is still in his, resting on his lap.

When he leans toward her, she doesn’t pull away like she does when he tries to kiss her on set. His tongue darts into her mouth and he can taste the wine on her. It seems as if she breaks the kiss as soon as it starts, her forehead resting against his.

“David.”

There’s a tinge of regret in her voice and it slices through him quickly.

“I’m sorry, Emily.”

Her hand untangles from his, but remains in his lap. His arm snakes around her waist, his fingers barely grazing her body. As if her body and her mind are disconnected, her hand runs up to his chest. She can almost feel his heart beat as his body rises and falls.

“I can’t hide the way I feel about you,” he tells her. “I just can’t.”

This time she’s the one who leans toward him. Her lips are a whisper against his, a secret between just the two of them.

“Neither can I,” she says.

“Well, where does that leave us?”

Her hand wraps around his neck as she draws herself closer to him. Her head settles on his shoulder.

“I don’t know,” she whispers.

+++

“Gotta go,” he yells as he heads out the door.

He slides into the seat of the car, pulling is phone out of his pocket as he settles in behind the wheel. He holds the “1” down and listens as it rings.

“Hello?” she answers.

“Hey, Em.”

“What’s up?”

“Wanna meet up before our lesson?” he asks her.

“Sure. How about in … half an hour?”

“See you then.”

+++

Since the beginning, they’ve been working with an acting coach on the weekends. It started out as a way to bond, to ensure that the embers of their chemistry remained hot. Of course, they didn’t really need to do anything to make sure that their chemistry remained.

No one dared broach the subject of ending the lessons. David and Emily seemed more than happy to continue investing time doing the work. In all honesty, it was the time they spent together that made them happy. It was an unspoken decision to stay the course.

He meets her in the studio with a cup of coffee in each hand. Smiling, her hand brushes against his as she takes a cup from him.

“Thanks,” she says.

“No problem.”

He follows her into Brennan’s office and takes a seat next to her on the couch. They sip their coffee, enjoying each other’s company in a comfortable silence.

Comfortable, is that what they are?

Her thigh is pressed against his and her head rests on the couch, tilted toward him. He smiles at her as he puts his cup down.

He’s not sure if it was inevitable that he would fall for her. True, lots of co-stars do. It’s the long hours, the close proximity. There are lots of co-stars who don’t fall for each other though.

Their characters have chemistry, but it’s not spill over. When they’re not filming, he doesn’t see her as Brennan & he doesn’t feel like Booth. Her head doesn’t dive for his shoulder when they hug the way it does when they’re filming.

She puts down her cup and reaches for his hand, her fingers slipping between his.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks him.

“You,” he answers.

“David.”

She gives him a little nervous laugh. He leans toward her, his hand snaking behind her neck.

“David,” she whispers.

He pauses, looking at her.

“Emily.”

She leans forward and kisses him lightly. She’s tried to keep him out of her mind, but it never seems to work. She tried denying her feelings, but they just grew stronger. So she figures she needs to try giving in. She’s known about David’s feelings, which is no help.

She kisses across his jaw line.

“What time is it?”

“We’ve got five minutes,” he tells her.

“Can you stay for a little while after?”

He turns his head to kiss her wrist.

“Yeah, I can stay.”

+++

They retreat back to Brennan’s office after their coach leaves. Both of them are laughing over the last technique they had to try out. David’s arm is slung over her shoulder and she leans in to him as she tries to catch her breath.

“Stop!” she yells as he starts to tickle her.

She side steps away from him, but he grabs her arm. He grabs the other before she can move and pins them behind her back with one hand.

“David!”

Her eyes widen as his hand creeps toward her.

“Don’t!”

“Give me a reason,” he teases.

“David Boreanaz, don’t you dare!”

She twists, trying to get out of his grip, but he moves with her. The space between them is closed and she stops laughing. He lets go of her arms, but doesn’t move.

She can hear the distant tick of a clock, but for the life of her she can’t remember where the clock is located in the office. Her eyes flicker up to his and he has a look on her face that she’s never seen before.

“Em.”

Her eyes close and she lets out a breath. When she opens her eyes again, she avoids his.

“Emily, don’t.”

His hand runs under her chin. He doesn’t turn her head; he just leaves his hand there. His fingers rest against her jaw as he waits for her to meet his gaze.

Slowly, her eyes shift back to him.

“I know,” he tells her. “It’s too much, too soon. Just don’t blank out on me, okay?”

“Okay,” she responds.

He moves to the couch, lying down across it. Without hesitating, she lays against him, her head on his chest.

He smiles and rakes his fingers through her hair. Sometimes, a similarity between Booth and him sneaks up out of no where. He can’t push her or he might lose her; he’s ready, but she’s not.

The difference here is that Emily has acknowledged both his feelings and hers. The difference is that their existence is much more convoluted.

However, just like Booth, he knows she’s worth the wait.

Known & Unknown

This clearly is something I wrote a few months ago & then let sit in a file folder on my computer lol

Pairing: Mariska Hargitay & Christopher Meloni

The trailer is warm and fatigue starts to set in. Mariska closes her eyes, but the fight starts to play out in front of her again and that’s the last thing she wants to think about. She looks around, wishing she had thought to stash a bottle of vodka somewhere. Lord knows she could use a drink.

There’s a knock on the door and she thinks maybe tequila is what she really needs. Maybe if she doesn’t answer, whoever it is will go away. She’s shit out of luck though, because whoever it is knocks louder.

She swings the door open and he’s standing there, two glasses clutched in his hand and a bottle under his arm.

“Can I come in?”

+++

She met her husband on this very set. She made a comment that she thought was funny and wound up starting a fight with him. Their relationship was passionate: they fought hard and they loved even harder.

All these years later, she thinks it’s ridiculous that she’s anxious about working with him. Peter visits the set, but not often. Most of the time it’s just August and his nanny. They know to give each other their own space.

She suspects that he knows why she doesn’t like for him to visit her at work. Neither of them has voiced the reason; they dance around it. She’s tried to tell him, but can never figure out how to do it.

Honey, I’m sleeping with Chris.

It’s not what you think it is.

Except it probably is. She doesn’t know what he thinks. There have been a few times where he’s tensed up, tried to say something that gets caught in his throat. Whenever it happens, she starts to make up excuses in her head: I must have said something to hurt his feelings; maybe he got turned down for a job.

So she doesn’t tell him the truth and he doesn’t ask. He pretends not to notice how different she acts when she’s around Chris and she pretends that she’s the same person she is when she’s at home.

It’s only one day, so it should be no different than when he visits set. It shouldn’t be, but Chris is being unreasonable. She’s not the only one who’s noticed the change in his mood.

“You’re acting like a little kid,” she tells him.

“No I’m not. Little kids are supposed to share.”

“You might not like it, but you do share.”

“I don’t want to.”

He stops pacing to look at her.

“What about Sherman? I share you too.”

“It’s not the same.”

She stands up and closes the gap between them.

“How? You’re married. I’m married. What’s the difference?”

“I love you more than I love Sherman.”

“But you’re married to her! You’ve been married to her since we met. You’re still married.”

“It’s not the same.”

“Chris, don’t give me this shit again. You couldn’t have expected me to stay single for the rest of my life. We’ve been over this.”

He starts to pace again and she rolls her eyes. She sits back down and looks at the clock. Peter will arrive in less than an hour and she’s not sure if Chris will have ceased his temper tantrum by then.

He stops pacing and looks at her again. Sitting next to her, he tangles his hand in her hair. She starts to shake her head, but he snakes an arm around her waist and draws closer to her.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too. But don’t do this now.”

His lips are an inch away from hers. His fingers move lightly in her hair and she closes her eyes. It’s as if her body is acting of its own accord: her lips brush against his and her hands grip the edge of his shirt.

“Shit,” she mutters as she pulls away from him. “You need to go.”

+++

Whoever made up the filming schedule is a genius. While Mariska is filming with Peter, Chris is busy filming something else. She’s not sure she could get through the scenes if he was there, watching like a hawk.

Maybe that’s the problem. She’s filming scenes with Peter, she’s joking around with him between takes. Realistically, if she wasn’t filming scenes with Peter, she still wouldn’t be filming with Chris. She can understand his reaction better now though.

“Marish?”

“Hmm?”

She looks over to see Peter staring at her.

“I asked if you wanted to grab some dinner.”

“Oh. You know what? I have a headache. I think I’m just going to try to catch a nap.”

“Do you want me to get you anything?”

“No, that’s okay.”

“Just call if you change your mind.”

He leans in and kisses her forehead before he heads off.

+++

Mariska lies down on the couch, her eyes closed. She’s not sure when things got so complicated. Or rather, she’s not sure how she’s been able to fool herself for so long. Things have been complicated since day one. They were complicated before Peter and they became complicated in a different way once he came along.

She doesn’t hear the trailer door open and she doesn’t realize he’s there until his hand is on her cheek. She smiles at the way she knows him by his touch. Her eyes stay closed, but she turns into him.

“How’s filming going?”

“Much better without you around to mess up lines.”

“Shut up. You mess up more than I do.”

He’s on top of her and she doesn’t complain. She still thinks he was being childish, but she wants him to know that she understands. Her breathing syncs with his as his chest rises against hers.

“What the fuck?”

Their heads snap up at the sound of Peter’s voice. He’s staring past Chris at Mariska.

“While I’m here?” he asks.

“Peter,” she starts.

“Don’t.”

The bottle of aspirin in his hand drops and he sets down the glass in his other hand.

“How long?”

There are so many questions he could ask, so many questions which have been unspoken for years.

“Since we met,” Chris tells him.

“I know that. I thought it would stop once I was with you.” He’s addressing Mariska like Chris isn’t there, as if she was the one who had answered. “But you’ve been with him the whole time.”

“No. We … I stopped, for a while,” she tells him.

“Doesn’t that make me feel better?”

“I, I didn’t think you knew.”

“And that makes it okay?”

They’re all standing, guards up.

“It’s not her fault,” Chris says.

Peter’s head jerks. He’s been ignoring Chris up until this point. Mariska tries to put herself physically between them, as if that will make a difference.

“I guess that makes it your fault then.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” Chris challenges.

“Chris,” Mariska hisses at him.

“What do you want me to do? Step down? Let you have her?”

“I already have her, more than you do.”

“She comes home to me.”

“She’s with me longer.”

“Jesus! Will the two of you stop acting like this is some sort of contest?”

“How can you tell me what to do?” Peter asks.

“Chris, you need to leave,” she says.

He brushes against her side as he walks by her, his eyes darting up to look at Peter as he does so.

The door shuts and they both sigh.

“Can we sit down and have a civilized conversation?” she asks.

+++

He pours the tequila into each glass and hands her one. Her lips curl around the glass as she tips it back. She can feel her face warm and she shuts her eyes again.

“So?” he asks.

“He’s upset. This isn’t how I wanted him to find out.”

“Where do you go from here?” Where do we go from here?

“I have to be honest with him from now on. We have to stop assuming and avoiding. He’s more upset that he thought we were over & didn’t know…”

He swallows the liquid in his glass in one large gulp.

“Chris, I can’t give him up. I love him. He’s a constant in my life. We’ve been through so much. This, today, doesn’t change our conversation from earlier. I love both of you.”

He clears his throat, not sure if it’s the alcohol or her words that have blocked it.

“I might need a little more … distance, but it doesn’t change anything.”

Grabbing the bottle, he pours more liquid into their glasses. He holds his up toward her, waiting for her to raise hers.

“Here’s to us.”

He downs his glass, not wanting to think, as she cautiously sips from her glass, straddling the line between fuzzy judgment and abandoned thought.

Observation

Alright, here’s the deal: My finger has been poised over the delete key all weekend. I have so many different ideas, things in progress, but it’s all muddled when I’ve sat down to write. I decided to just write some drabble after looking through some pictures last night. I’m hoping it will help to clear my head & I figured, why not share? It’s really nothing, but here you go …

He keeps his hands in his pockets, attempting not to reach out and touch her. He thinks that if he can keep a physical distance from her, he can play off his feelings.

She’s on to him. She stands there with her hands behind her back, when really she wants nothing more than to take his hand in hers. While she tries to understand his reasoning, he’s not fooling her. It’s there in the way he talks to her and more so in the way he looks at her.

She wonders if it’s as obvious to everyone else.

He waits until she’s alone in the booth and then slips in beside her. They’re both several drinks in and neither really remembers what function it is they’re attending. She grins as he leans in to her.

“You look gorgeous,” he whispers as he tucks her hair behind her ear.

She looks at him and laughs, unable to contain herself.

“And drunk. Gorgeous and drunk.”

“So are you!”

Her hand finds a familiar place on his waist and his hand covers hers on his arm.

“They’re going to see,” he tells her.

“I don’t care,” she responds.

They gravitate toward each other. Regardless of where they are in a room and how many people are there, they find each other. It’s as if their bodies naturally pull toward each other.

As they fit themselves together, they play it off as if it’s for the cameras. They never admit that it’s for them.

If they don’t admit it, it can’t be true.