This is following a somewhat lengthy meta to Victoria about why I could (or already did?) fall for Will/Nina. Never ever never endgame, but for now.

Thanks to Tricki, as ever, for the beta and listening/abiding #cares xx
Also, thanks to Victoria, csiAngel and Nonnie88 for all the twitter TN talk! xx


The irony isn't lost on her; she isn't stupid. She knows, as of not even three hours ago, she inserted herself into the exact kind of situation she would have once relished breaking to the world. But, two orgasms later the desire to care had waned dramatically.

She couldn't sleep. Partly because the view was incredible from up there and she didn't want to close her eyes from it; partly because it had been a long time since someone gently snored beside her in bed; mostly because she couldn't stop herself wondering if this was the view MacKenzie had for two years.

MacKenzie.

Her new 'old friend'.

Fuck, this was going to hurt. Regardless of the good intentions she can and will tell herself she has, this is really going to hurt MacKenzie. Despite the fact she is unequivocally positive that she is just a placeholder before Will and Mac finally give up with the fucked up little game they have going and get back together, it will hurt.

She may only have Will for a few nights - maybe weeks, hopefully months - but she understands that he is never going to be hers forever. He's hardly even hers now. The way he said he loved MacKenzie on that message… that isn't something that she can compete with. The romantic in her wouldn't want to compete with that; the romantic would want to somehow ensure they came together to say a giant fuck you to the immense pile of crap the world was becoming. To make up for all the shit she wrote and all the shits she wrote about.

This was her recompense, really, wasn't it? In a fucked up way? She had watched (and, yes, written about) Will's attempts to date anything in a skirt to get back at/get over MacKenzie and also watched him strike out every time. Those women – the cheerleaders, the friends of friends, the doctors – they weren't interesting enough to captivate him any longer than it took him to notice their legs in a skirt and heels.

Will needs someone who understands that. Who is, essentially, just in it for the sex and maybe a little wooing. He rebounded in those three years that he and MacKenzie were separated, possibly even saw himself begin to move on. But then she came back. MacKenzie trudged up all that burning hatred, rage, hurt and confusion and, despite protestations, has managed to chip away at it all slowly but surely. That scares him more than any of those death threats or anything from his childhood.

He needs another rebound but with a woman who isn't just a one-nighter - his mother raised him to respect women. She is safe in that respect, but she's pretty sure she isn't boring. She's pretty sure she can rile him and infuriate him almost as much as MacKenzie can.

Maybe MacKenzie will be able to see that she is fucking him for her. That she wants them to get back together, so she will let him shag the angry out with her. The lies they tell now will eventually bestow onto her new 'old friend MacKenzie McHale' everything she ever wanted.

Yeah, right.

When did she start to care about what other people thought of her?

When did she start to care that MacKenzie might be angry at her? She'd been plenty angry before and with more than enough reason to be. When did…

She began to laugh.

Really laugh. Heartfelt, contagious, inappropriately timed, painful giggling.

He had civilised her.

He had fucking done it!

She pulled the dark grey sheet to her mouth and tried as she might to stop giggling before she woke him-

"Are you okay?" His voice was gravelled and husky and oh so sexy.

"Yeah," she chuckled. "Yes."

"You sure? Cos you seem to be giggling, and that's rarely a sound a man likes to hear in his bed."

She turned to her side, the giggling subsiding thankfully. "I'm sure. It was certainly not about this bed."

"Good. What was it about then?"

"You."

"Oh thanks!"

She smiled, shaking her head. "Forget it."

They didn't speak for a while. She tucked her hand beneath her cheek as his eyes roamed over her face. While she can and will tell herself of the good, almost admirable, intentions she may have for whatever this is… she was certainly not as pure of thought as she may lead herself to believe.

She had wanted this for years, not just since the New Year's Eve Party.

But, not just that; the job had fucked her over. She had lost respect for the World and it for her. Her trust in people was almost depleted and she had begun to hate herself long before Will decided to civilise her. She had become stuck in a trap where the only male attention she got was from guys wanting to be famous or wanting to 'accidentally' let slip mid-coitus that they were also screwing a film star.

Yes, essentially, this was barely a step up from those situations, but she and Will shared genuine feelings (even if his feelings for another could never compare). They were both on the rebound.

"You're beautiful."

Her breath caught in her throat, a hint of a smile quickly forming on her lips. He had a way of saying it and making you believe it – a crinkle in his eyes or a quirk of his mouth, she wasn't quite sure but… hell, he was going to be dangerous. "You're full of it."

"You'll get used to it," he laughed, leaning forward to kiss her.

Yep, she was going to hell. Not just for the other stuff.