|People Find It Every Day
Author: LenaAlexHunt PM
One shot. Following the speed-dating event at Luigi's, what do Gene and Alex really think of each other, and is there hope for their relationship?Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Angst - Words: 740 - Reviews: 4 - Favs: 4 - Published: 09-03-10 - Status: Complete - id: 6294882
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Hi guys! So, my first Ashes fic in a while, a oneshot influenced by series 3 episode 2. Please R&R!
"There is love in this world. People find it every day." Elaine finished, before turning on her heel and walking out of Luigi's.
Gene strode rapidly away from Alex, trying to ignore the word ringing through his head. Love... love... love...
He couldn't be near her with this thought in his mind. With the amount of alcohol he had consumed, anything could happen if he stayed in close proximity to her.
He might say something he'd regret.
He might end up going upstairs with her and humiliating himself.
He might confess his feelings, and the Gene Genie did not do nancy things like admitting how he felt.
He might end up shagging her and leaving her the next morning, and he didn't think he could face the look on her face the next day if that happened. Then again, he reasoned, if he did that, she'd probably transfer.
He couldn't lose her. He knew that. If there was one thing he knew he could not do, that was the primary one.
But at the same time, he knew what he wanted to do. What he wanted to say. He'd played it out in his mind, over and over, imagining every last detail of the perfect night in question.
How he'd go over to her and use some corny pickup line.
How she'd fall into his arms and admit how she loved him too, how she just wanted him right here, right now.
How she'd kiss him desperately, passionately, her longing and urgency making her all the more desirable as he picked her up, one hand on her perfect arse, pulling her up the stairs.
How her cool hands would feel on his bare skin as she called his name, over and over, clinging to him and urging him on...
How she would look as she slept, hair dishevelled, makeup gone, all traces of artificiality gone.
How it would feel to have her wake up in his arms and beam with joy when she saw he was there, he'd stayed, he meant everything he said...
He shook his head firmly, the same questions plaguing his mind, stopping him.
What if she said no?
What if she didn't feel the same?
What if she didn't want him?
He turned and strode from Luigi's before he could act, before he could think any more.
Alex watched him go with a sense of regret.
Why didn't she say anything? Elaine had set her up perfectly – given her a springboard for chat-up lines, provided a conversation starter. And she hadn't taken it.
Why didn't she tell him how she felt?
Why didn't she just make her move?
Why did she always let things go so far, before losing her bottle and backing out?
Why did she lead him on so, those tight jeans, those flirtatious comments, yet when it came to actually asking him on a date, she couldn't quite bring herself to?
She sighed into her wine. She didn't usually let herself think it, yet a small part of her knew why she drank so much. It wasn't to forget her sorrows, or make herself feel good.
It was to see whether he would stop her.
It was to see whether he would stop her and take her upstairs.
It was to see if he did take her upstairs, if it would go anywhere.
It was to see how far they might take it.
She sighed again and cast her eyes downwards. He was totally oblivious.
He never noticed how much of an effort she made for him.
He never looked beyond her chest or her arse, never looked into her eyes and saw what she really thought reflected in their hazel depths.
He never asked her how she felt, although – she had to admit – he seemed to care a lot about whether she lived or died.
She blinked back tears. She knew it could go no further, not whilst Keats was compiling his report.
Not whilst she was trying to figure out the truth.
Not whilst there were people to judge them.
She sighed and knocked back the last of her wine before turning to leave.
Not ever, it seemed.