watching_you | OOM: Suite 130

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OOM: Suite 130

Veronica leads Mills through the labyrinthine corridors of the Milliways guest area until, eventually, they reach the right hallway.

"This place can be a bit confusing at times," she offers apologetically. "Things have a tendency to move. But I'm right up here --"

She cuts off, stopping short. This hallway's not empty.

Super.

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"Old man. You keep saying that like it's a bad thing."

He wonders if she'll see his next move coming as clearly as he does.

His shoulder drops and he bends forward, scooping her up and throwing her over his shoulder. "Which way was your room again?"

"I'm saying it like it's a what no what what are you doing no no no no no no no no no oh God oh God put me down put me down put me down --!"

She would squirm if not for the horrifying prospect of being dropped face-first down the stairs; instead she squeezes her eyes shut and digs her fingers into the back of his jacket like a panicked cat.

He's laughing still, affectionately, one arm curled tight around the back of her thighs to keep her from falling.

"Hang on, hang on," he soothes. "Agent Mars, the sooner you tell me which way your room is, the sooner I can deliver you there."

The long panicked squeak stops just long enough for her to say, "Next floor. And I can walk there myself you maniac!"

"Oh I have no doubt," he drawls, highly amused.

It doesn't stop him from carrying her up another flight of steps and down the hall to her room, mindful of her person as he passes through the doorways.

When they arrive at her door, he sets her down carefully on her feet, intensely aware of her proximity and her training.

"Better?"

It takes her a second to regain her footing and sense of balance, and then she's pointing an accusing finger at Mills.

"You. Are. So lucky I don't have my taser on me," she fumes, still mildly amused underneath it all.

He holds his hands up and takes a half step back.

"Oh you wouldn't tase a poor, defenseless accountant, now would you?"

"Defenseless? Defenseless, he says!" She shouts it to the corridor at large, then twirls back to face him.

"Hah, Mills." Staccato: "Ha ha ha."

"Just a harmless old man," he says, leaning a shoulder against her door frame, hands clasped.

"Go on. Mention the karaoke again. I dare you."

And because Veronica is the type to stick a fork into a socket if she thinks it'll be funny enough, she does.

"You can do some old-school stuff, you know? Sinatra or Bobby Darin maybe." She pokes him playfully in the ribs. "You Make Me Feel So Young."

His hand catches hers and draws her close, and for a moment, there's a mock glare, even though he's smiling. Looking down into her face, he takes a breath.

And starts to sing. Quietly, for her alone, but it turns out he can carry a tune.

"You make me feel so young." He gives a little Sinatra sway, catching her up like they were dancing. "You make me feel there are songs to be sung."

In his arms, she throws her head back and laughs.

"Oh, you are so busted! I knew you could sing."

And then he's done.

Still smiling, but letting her go, stepping back with a touch of wistfulness in his eyes.

Getting too close, he thinks. Can't afford to get too close.

A part of her feels a tug of disappointment to have him pull away. Before he's entirely out of reach she catches his hand one more time and lifts it, twirling under his arm in one last dance move. The motion brings them to arm's length, and then she lets him go.

She gives him a bit of a smile but suddenly feels shy, eyes flickering from him to the door and to her purse, which holds her keys.

"Well."

The word hangs in the air for a moment.

"I had a good time today."

"Me, too."

No numbers to exchange. No time to meet again. Just this. He can't seem to find the will to move on just yet.

"I'll see you around?"

"Of course."

She puts the key in the door. Slowly, no rush, not dragging it out but not moving with any particular haste. She unlocks it, pushes it open, slips her keys back into her purse. Turns to face him again.

"So."

For a moment it's just awkward silence, then she holds out her hand.

"Um. Thanks again."

He does take her hand, only he turns it slightly and bends to place a chaste kiss on the back of her knuckles, his eyes never leaving her face.

"The pleasure is entirely mine."

"Damn it."

She sighs heavily.

"Now I'm going to have to kiss you again."

She's blushing even as she says it, even as, smiling shyly, she steps in close.

This time, it's his turn to let slip.

His knuckles graze her cheek, fingertips caressing along her jaw to weave in her hair before cupping her head with his palm. His lips brush over hers, once, waiting for permission, and then he's the one kissing her, hard. His free hand snakes around her waist, pulling her against him.

Hunger and tenderness, and a dangerous ferocity, all balled up into one sweet kiss, he drinks like he'll never get another chance to taste her.

Well. This is not exactly what she expected.

She's startled at first, and for a half-second she's tense in his arms, spine rigid. But God how it feels good to be wanted like this again, to have that fire and hurt coiling around her and squeezing the breath from her lungs. She melts against him, leaving no air between them.

A quiet moan escapes from the back of her throat before she can prevent it.

At the sound, his embrace tightens around her for a moment, daring to enjoy the feel of her body along his, the warmth and softness of her, the sweetness of her mouth.

And then his kiss gentles. And ends.

He rests his forehead against hers, trying to catch his breath, his hands resting on her hips, creating distance.

When he can speak, his voice is graveled treacle. "If you need me, leave a note at the bar."

"I'll see you soon."

"Soon," she agrees, emphatic.

Moving away isn't an option she is particularly keen to explore at this point in time, but she does slowly begin to detach herself from him. Finally she steps away, placing a hand on the doorknob.

"Soon."

It's the only word her brain can functionally process right at this moment.

He nods once, his eyes a touch haunted.

And then he turns and is gone, stalking back down the hall with a ground eating stride, not turning to look back as he ducks down the stairs.

Veronica watches him go, waiting until he's out of sight before she ducks into the apartment. She kicks the door closed behind her and doesn't bother to take off her shoes before heading into the living room and unceremoniously dumping her coat, purse and flower on the coffee table.

Then she gracelessly flops onto the couch.

For a long stretch of silence she does nothing but stare at the ceiling. Eventually she raises a hand to her lips, noting with some wonder how they still tingle, experiencing the lingering ghost of a kiss.

A deep breath, and a heavy sigh.

"Oh my God."

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OOM: Suite 130

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