She was watching some ridiculous chick-flick when he trudged through the door - cold, tired, and cranky. His lungs felt as if they might spontaneously combust from exertion in the bitterly cold London air and he was in no mood for chit-chat. He really just wanted to take a hot shower, put on some comfortable sweatpants, and drag himself to bed. He wanted nothing more than to let his bed coccoon him in warmth; the kind that seeped into his skin, relaxed his overly tired muscles and let him drop off into the state of sleep one usually required medication to achieve. That, however, was not to be because he had barely brushed the snow from his shoulders when his name was called.

"Eddie?" Fiona sounded strangled, pained even and she has to clear her throat before attempting to call him again. "Eddie, is that you?"

"Yes." He sighed tiredly, reluctantly trudging into the living room where he thought she was. She was quite the sight, crumpled over against the arm of the couch with her left ankle propped up on the coffee table. He knew first aid well enough that the ice pack should have been wrapped and firmly secured to her ankle, not just draped over it. She fidgeted and squirmed, even though her eyes drooped and her body seemed far more worn down than usual. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he took in the scene before him; "Fiona, what the hell happened?"

"I, um, sprained my ankle at work today." Fiona tilted her head in his general vicinity, although with her droopy eyes and blurred vision, that was about ten feet to the left of his actual location. A dramatic display of long, elegant fingers drew his eyes back to the poorly iced ankle. "I'm ready for bed, but I can't make it on my own."

"Why didn't you call Nigel?" Eddie contorted his face, clearly wondering what the hell was going on, that Fiona had to ask him for help. "Couldn't he have helped you?"

", Eddie, I broke up with Nigel." She spat out after some reluctance. "He's gone, and even if he wasn't, he can't lift me."

"Okay why you'd break up with Mister. Wonderful? And two, you weigh maybe ninety pounds soaking wet and he can't lift you?" Eddie raised his eyebrows, refusing to buy the laughable story she's trying to sell him.

Fiona's eyes filled with tears, that threatened to spill over her long lashes as she finally met his clear azure eyes, "I had to tell him about the kisses, Eddie. It didn't seem right to hide it from him."

Eddie kept quiet as he stepped around furniture to reach her. He scooped up her crumpled frame easily and started toward her bedroom. It was only then that he noticed how very little she was wearing for a cold night in London. She had dressed in a slightly translucent white t-shirt that hung loosely over a pair of cut-off sweatpants. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail with a few gold strands falling in her face. Her left leg was kicked out in front of her and she wrapped her arms around him loosely, resting her head on his collarbone.

"I find it hard to believe Nigel couldn't carry you." Eddie commented with a playful smile.

His shoes had been kicked off at the door, the sleeves of his light blue shirt are rolled up to his elbows and with Fiona cradled against his chest, he looked every bit the part of a husband carrying his wife to bed to have his way with her. Her head is tilted back, soft giggles escaping her as he carried her to her room to help her into bed. She looked every bit the part of a wife letting her husband carry her to bed.

It's the first time they haven't jumped from one extreme to another.

They usually jumped from fighting mad at one another - to the point of extreme hatred - to hot, passionate kissing with groping and the like involved in some way. Usually their kissing was something akin to heavy foreplay.

"Well, this is the same man who had trouble carrying his briefcase." Fiona told him, giggling despite the fact that they're making fun of a man she had once thought she loved.

Eddie laughed as he kicked her bedroom door open and carried her over to the bed. "Well, you're the lightest person I've ever carried."

Despite being tired, cold and quite certain that his lungs had caught fire when he walked through the door, he found this light, playful conversation with the flat-mate he's supposed to hate rather warm and endearing. Okay, yes, Fiona had her moments but so had he and moments of respite, where they aren't foaming at the mouth and spitting horrid insults at one another, made him wonder if it was truly feelings of intense hatred that they harbored for one another or something else. Something more genuine, less of a primal loathing and more of a genuine fondness for one another.

"Thanks Eddie." Her voice broke him from his reverie and made him realize that he was still cradling her against his chest.

He reluctantly set her down on the bed and reached for the blankets to tuck her into bed. He was tucking them around her abdomen when the light, playful moment suddenly became something much more sensual and sexual. It could have been her appreciative smile at him being so willing to help her or it could it have been the hint of pink peeking out from the loose collar of her white t-shirt either way, he found himself staring at her lips, among other things.

"Eddie..." Her voice trailed off as she leant her head up, barely touching her lips to his.

When remembered later, the memory of what exactly triggered it will be blurred slightly by the vivid imagery of them nearly having sex. The kissing, or rather, the almost vicious assault of one another's mouth; being pulled on top of her as he groped for the covers and the soft warmth that lay underneath the layers of blankets. He couldn't remember a time when he had been so desparate, not just for release but for the passion that led up to that powerful release.

"Eddie." She whimpered, pulling him closer, gripping his shoulders like a lifeline because no matter how much she claimed to hate him, the hard hotness of his body was a temptation that she refused to resist.

He was reaching for her shorts when reality crashed back to him. "Fiona we can't -"

Despite desperately wanting too - and they both do - he knew that she was still in shock over the loss of her relationship and he had no intention of being the rebound. She was grieving over a lost relationship and it would have felt too much like taking advantage of her and although he's male, he still had his morals. This temptation was one he has to resist.

"Eddie -?"

"Fiona, you just broke up with Nigel. I'm not taking advantage of you." Eddie murmured, pulling completely away and standing up. He carefully tucked her under the covers and brushed some hair from her face. He made his way out of the room, pretending not to notice the contented smile that tugs at Fiona's lips as she let her eyes close.

He was sweet and tender when he was being playful. Exuding a warmth and a different kind of a sexuality than usual. It was different from the fiery hardness of the hatred that he was supposed to feel for her. It was a good kind of a different. The kind of different that made her wonder what exactly having Eddie Arlette as a boyfriend would be like.

Oh hell.

That could be a problem considering they were supposed to hate each other.

Maybe one day.

Hel-lo Lovelies, as you can tell, this is edited. Enjoy!