AN: This is my version of a fluffy one shot, I guess. For some reason I'm hung up on writing angsty stuff. Strange because I'm a pretty happy person lately. I got into a writing program recently! I'm pretty excited. So happy Valentine's Day! Or Happy February 14th to those who do not observe Valentine's Day! Or happy whatever day it is when you are reading this!

It always astounded Topher, on a sub-conscience level, the ability to ignore the fall of night when three stories underground. There were ways of knowing, definitely, like the fact that the actives no longer made their way around the house, the employees had all gone to their respective 'homes', and probably the most obvious was that most of the lights were actually switched off.

Yet he always seemed to miss it, he would work well into the night before looking at a clock and realizing he had spent the last three or four hours completely alone.

That was not the case on this night. An unexpected visitor ensured that Topher snap back into reality. She came into the dark room, the glow of the technology around the chair lighting her face in an eyrie way. Topher took a step back from her. Her gaze was fixed on him in a way that pinned him down. She continued moving forward, forward, forward. Ever closer to having him trapped between herself and a wall. But she stopped.

Topher sighed.

"Whi- Dr. Saunders, what are you doing up?"

"Claire, Topher. Call me by the name you gave me," her voice was strained. "Unless you prefer Whiskey."

"Claire's fine. That's fine," he chuckled nervously. "So...what brings you to my not-so-humble abode?"

"I lied to you, you know. I didn't think I could. I didn't think I would have been able to, but I did. And more impressive? You believed me."

"Nobody said you couldn't li- Wait, what did you lie about?"

"When I left you, you truly believed that I didn't want you, but I do. I did. You are responsible for everything that I am, don't you think I should worship you, my God?"

"What? No! No worshipping! Well, maybe a little... but not in a strictly 'wanting' way-" she interrupted by coming closer to him. She ran her hand down his chest. "No, no, no. Claire, no. Bad. This is bad, this is very-" another interruption as her hand pushed under the band of his khakis. "AhHhhh, stop. Whiskey, stop this right...Ah," her fingers flicked, as if she were typing. Topher decided he wasn't going to win this battle, and if you can't beat 'em...

Her mouth found his as her hand continued moving, his arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss. He tugged at her thin shirt, pulling it up but not able to get it over her head, she stepped back, her eyes latched on his own. Slowly she pulled the top off, her gaze un-flinching. Topher's fingers found the buttons on his sweater and tried to work them apart, but he was unsuccessful. Claire came back to him, easily working the sweater away, he kissed her again.

Adelle DeWitt sat in her office chair, her head positioned on her hand, which was balanced precariously on the edge of her desk. She was staring at the monitors, the screen that generally displayed Topher working alone in his office. She would never admit it to him, but she was fascinated by what he was able to do, the way he could work so well with technology but never with people.

She appeared to be wrong. The way he could manage the borderline-hysterical woman-doll-that came to him in his office showed that he indeed knew how to handle people. Or maybe that he was worse than anyone even expected. Whiskey had taken him down in not 10 minutes.

Now this was just becoming entertaining, she had seen everything that went on in her house. Secrets and lies, horrifying scandals, and yet watching Topher and Whiskey together gave her chills she could not explain. She knew he was sensitive, she didn't know about passionate.

Claire straddled him against the wall, her legs wrapped around him as he held himself up against it. She eventually broke the kiss, looking up at the ceiling. Topher looked up as well, seeing her face, her eyes. They were open and staring. They were beautifully entwined in a moving work of art. It was only moments before the gasping started. She sounded like she was just coming up from being underwater and it made him twitch.

He pushed himself away from the wall, pushing her off of him. She shoved him back in vengeance. His eyes scanned her body. She wore only her bra. Topher wrapped his arms around her again, away from the wall this time. His mouth found her ear and he whispered to her.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he repeated. Each time his voice became more demanding; each time growing louder. His mouth moved down her neck, still muttering the words. Her hands were all over him, finally pulling him down onto the floor.

He positioned himself and moved quickly, without thinking. She lay beneath him, her head turned to the side. He continued to kiss her neck in time to the rhythm they created. A trace of a smile played on her lips, it was a tragic sight. She was there. She would press herself forward onto him, her hands moving from his hair to her own. She gasped along with him as each moment brought her closer.

Adelle couldn't take her eyes off the screen, it was almost as intoxicating as the drink now in her hand. A part of her wished she could show someone else what she was watching, ask them if the footage had the same effect on them or if it was her own perversion. She wouldn't deny that she was fixated on Topher's movements, the way his hands moved across Whiskey's back, or the way his lips found all the delicate parts of her body. She would never have expected this from him. His very inexperience had left him completely and utterly tender.

In the final moment, Claire's back arched and Topher held his breath. It was everything and nothing in the same moment. It was the horrible pleasure of release, and they both loved it more than they could describe.

Topher rose to his feet first. He picked up her clothing and passed it to her, she dressed quickly. Before she left the room she walked up to him, close. He wrapped his arms around her one last time and whispered his solace again, drawing patterns on her arm with his thumb. She turned and left soundlessly. Topher ran his hand through his hair; his mouth slightly open in awe and confusion. It was then that he noticed the blinking light of the surveillance camera.