Wrestling 1. Irish Jig

**Disclaimer: This is a non profit fanfiction. I do not own anything associated with the trademark WWE and am purely writing this fic out of fan-appreciation and respect for the hard work all those people put into giving us a great show each week. In other words: Please don't sue! Oh, and guess what? I neither invented the iPhone nor Zumba... But I guess you already knew that, huh? ;-) **

It was for certain now. Stephen was going to go to jail for murder. He looked at the pieces of plastic, glass and circuitry that had once been a properly functioning cell phone and stared at Claudio in disbelief. His friend was still immersed in his role as Cesaro and grinning at him derisively. He was going to wipe that stupid grin right of his face.

"What the feck do ye think yer doin'?!" Stephen roared. "That was me phone."

"It's 'my' phone. My phone," Cesaro corrected and grinned complacently. "Don't you know how to speak English properly? Get those pronouns right."

"Yer goin' te care less about 'me' an' 'my' once I brogue kick yer head clean off yer shoulders, fella. This was one step too far! Yer gonna pay fer this!" he threw another gaze at the remains of his cell phone and then glared at Claudio again.

The camera crew was elated and so was the director. "And that's a wrap. Brilliant work, you guys! Especially Steve. Really credible anger! Good job!" he gushed. Contrary to Claudio who was beginning to suspect that the Irishman's meltdown wasn't a brilliant, method acting-like immersion into his character Sheamus, the camera crew wasn't aware that Stephen was actually really seething with anger and therefore left the scene without being any the wiser.

"What's up with you, man?" Claudio decided to investigate after the others had left. "That cell was just a mock-up, right?"

The Irishman focused his gaze on his soon to be deceased colleague. "It was not jus' a mock-up," he said darkly. His anger had evaporated by now and he was now staring down at the pieces of his iPhone with a vacant expression on his face, so he did neither hear Claudio's apology nor his promise to get him a new phone. He was trying to figure out what to do and more importantly how to get in touch with her. Coming to some kind of conclusion his head shot up and he looked at Claudio again.

"I need a piece of paper an' a laptop. An' ye better pray to God I'll manage to trace her down again or that next brogue kick connects, fella," he pointed his index fingers in the face of a surprised Claudio and stormed off.

What has just happened, that little scene between two colleagues and potentially former friends, is somewhere in the middle of the story, or better yet, shortly before the end. It's usually good to start at the beginning, progress chronologically, but sometimes a single moment is so crucial to what happens before, after and at any other point that it has to be mentioned first.

To better understand Stephen's reaction we have to travel back in time, to a point where that mysterious 'her' Stephen spoke of was just as mysterious to him as to the readers…

That Irish people like betting is something everybody assumes about them. In Stephen's case it was very much true. He had had a betting pool going with his friends over all sorts of things, like sports events, the World Cup and football results in general. Now that might sound like he was a gambler. He wasn't. Their bets were about beer money. Nothing serious. Just for fun.

It just so happened that Stephen and his friends Stuart and Drew were reunited once more at their regular gym in Tampa. Reunited because Stuart was out of commission thanks to a shoulder injury and Drew, well, Drew had it especially rough. He'd been sacked from his job with the WWE a couple of months earlier. So with Steve being constantly on the road, this was actually the first time all three of them got together after a longer period of time and naturally they were in the best of spirits, joking around.

"Aaaah, Drew, will ye look at that? How cute. Stuart can lift a hundred pounds. I think I saw Nikki Bella bench press more last week."

Drew cackled evilly at Steve's joke, whereas Stuart shot him a phenomenally evil glare after he had set down the weight.

"Mock all you want, Farrelly. I'm still recovering and I'm making progress, whereas the same can't be said about you. Didn't you want to crack those 20 reps with 550lbs like half a year ago? How's that going for you, mate?"

Steve made a face. _Apparently not so well_. But his in-ring-name wasn't the Celtic Warrior for nothing. He wouldn't back down from a challenge.

"Okay, tell ye what, Stu. Ye do a 20 reps with those 100lbs an' I'll do the same with those 550lbs. Sound like a plan?"

"What's in it for me?" the Brit asked getting to his feet. They squared off in front of the weightlifting bench. Unfortunately Steve was doomed to always lose height-wise since Stuart had a couple of inches on him, but he made up for those inches with an extra dose of ferocity.

"Guys, guys, guys, cool yer horses," Drew pushed his two friends apart with a grin. "How 'bout we sweeten the pot with a little wager? See that over there," the Scot pointed in the direction of the room with the glass walls that was reserved for aerobics classes and other women's stuff like, for example, Zumba. All three men had agreed at some point or other that while those classes were nice to look at, those kinds of sports were for sissies and a complete waste of time.

Stuart and Steve nodded, of course they saw that room.

"Get to the point, Galloway!" Stuart barked. He wasn't the patient type.

"Whichever one of you loses, takes part in the next class in there," Drew grinned like the proverbial cat that had just swallowed a particularly tasty canary. "Regardless of what it is."

Steve frowned. He didn't like that particular wager. There was a chance he might lose and then there would be hell to pay, but there was also a good chance his British friend would end up losing and would consequently end up making a complete arse out of himself inside aforementioned room. His frown eventually gave away to a smug grin. "Count me in."

"Really?" Stuart raised an eyebrow and eyed his friend over with something akin to contempt on his face.

"Yeah. Cold feet, Stu?" The Irishman held out his hand to his friend and waggled his eyebrows at him. "Not up fer the challenge? We can get ye one of those girly weights if ye wanna. They come in all kinds a nice colors, like pink an' purple."

Stuart clasped his hand a little more tightly than strictly necessary. "You're on, pasty."

So the competition started. Stuart was confident that he wouldn't need a spotter, so Drew stood behind Steve as the two men started their face-off, huffing and puffing on their way to 20 reps. By rep no. 10 Steve already knew that he had bitten off more than he could chew. He made it to a respectable 15 until he had to call it quits. Unfortunately Stuart soldiered through his 20 reps, which made him jump to his feet with a smug smirk and raise his out-stretched fists in the air in a victory pose.

"In your bleeding face!" he grinned and scooted down next to Steve's bench to mock him appropriately. The Irishman was still stretched out on it, breathing heavily. Drew slapped him on the shoulder sympathetically, but even the Scot's camaraderie ended somewhere. The look of glee on his face was hard to miss.

"Oh, look! The instructor of your class is already arriving. Don't wanna be late for it…" the Scotsman mocked him.

Steve sat up slowly praying that it wouldn't be none of that Latin-American dance-work-out nonsense. He let out a frustrated growl when he read the back of the instructor's clothes. Her colorful tank top and her gazillion of wristbands were actually proclaiming just that. His eyes quickly racked over her figure. It wasn't a bad figure to look at: athletic, toned arms, nice arse. She wore simple jersey slacks and her hair was… What? Well, it looked like she had allowed an infant to pick the color for her hair. It was some sort of washed out pink, like candy floss. Ridiculous. He let out an incredulous huff.

He had no time to protest. His friends practically pushed him through the door of that dreaded glass room, while they remained standing outside and waved at him through the glass. He flipped them the bird, of course discretely, and trudged further inside the room in the direction of the instructor who was standing with her back turned to him and presently busy with hooking up her iPhone to the stereo.

She didn't see him approaching despite the large mirror that made up one wall of the class, because she wasn't looking up. "Ah-erm," he cleared his throat behind her and she turned around. She was several inches shorter than him and probably a bit younger too. Her facial expression quickly changed from surprised to smiley and friendly as she looked him over. She had quite nice teeth, he noticed. All white and straight. Behind them other participants of the class were starting to file in the door. "Hi Charlie!" she leaned slightly to the left and looked around him to wave excitedly at a woman in her mid-forties.

Steve hardly noticed. He was staring at her. There was something about her face that was quite familiar. He felt like he had seen her somewhere before, he just couldn't place her. Odd. He didn't get to contemplate that thought for very long, because the woman's green eyes were soon back on him.

"Sorry," she grinned up at him. The grin was a little on the cheeky side. "That was Charlie. Haven't seen her in a while. She and her husband were on holiday in France for two weeks. She looks phenomenal don't you think? Looking good!" the last sentence was shouted at aforementioned Charlie accompanied by a thumbs-up sign. That instructor lass was really quite a bubbly person.

"Hi, my name is Ally. What's yours?" she held out her hand to him. He clasped it after a moment of surprise.

"Stephen…Erm… Steve."

"So, Erm-Steve," she grinned, "What brings you to this class?" apparently she had already spotted Stuart and Drew waving at her from the other side of the glass wall. They weren't exactly unobtrusive.

He rubbed the back of his neck and tried his best sheepish and what he hoped was also charming, smile on her. "I lost a wager."

"You lost a wager," she repeated with a sweet grin. "Of course… Are your friends just going to stand there or are they going to come in?"

"I suppose they will keep standin' there an' at some point they're goin' to get out their phones as well an' start taking pictures an' recording videos te commemorate this brilliant moment fer all eternity," he said, clearly nonplussed by the prospect of that happening.

"Really?" her eyes narrowed. She looked past Steve, at Stuart and Drew. "Will you excuse me for a sec, Steve?" He nodded. She was already halfway across the room when she turned around towards him again, that million-watt smile back on her face, which had briefly disappeared when she had glared at his two friends that were busy pressing up their noses against the window pane of the room. "You're Irish, right?" He nodded again. "Cool," she grinned before she turned back around to strut towards his two friends purposefully. Apparently she wasn't quite as friendly when she interacted with them. In fact they soon looked properly chastised. Their mocking smiles disappeared and they retreated from the glass wall. She pointed at the weight lifting benches and looked at them expectantly. Finally they trotted off grudgingly, shooting back looks at Ally over their shoulders.

She came back in, rubbing her hands together contently. On the way back to him she stopped to chat with half a dozen women, that smile of hers varying in extension and intensity, but never wavering. He felt a little odd standing there, because the class consisted mostly of women of varying ages. On the plus side maybe nobody would recognize him in here. He didn't need word getting out that someone had spotted the Celtic Warrior at a Zumba class.

Ally made her way to the front of the class again. As if on cue, the other women had started distributing themselves among the room. As Ally strutted past him confidently, she threw him a grin. "All right, I suppose you're a Zumba virgin…"

He knitted his brows together at the expression, but nodded.

She chuckled. "So here's what you can expect from this. This is neither cardio nor dancing, but you're sure as heck going to sweat a lot. Most people come here for a fun workout and to dance off some calories. I know you're only here because you lost a bet, but please don't be a spoil-sport…"

"Wouldn't dream of it. So I'll jus' get out a yer hair an' take me place at the back of class an' quietly make a complete arse outta meself there," he told her.

She raised an eyebrow. "Word of advice? Don't. Stay in the front row. If you're going to make an 'arse out of yourself', you'd better make sure you see everything. It's only going to be worse in the back."

Her eyes landed on his shoulder, probably taking in the still rather prominent scar from his shoulder surgery last year. "Any medical problems I should be aware of before we head into this?"

He shook his head with a grim expression on his face and she laughed. "Cheer up, Steve! You're going to like this." With that said, she turned away from him and clapped her hands together, addressing the rest of class. "All right everyone, I don't know about you, but I'm up for a little booty shaking and sweating."

Several hollers of approval and even a cat whistle were heard. Surprisingly it came from a woman in her mid-sixties. Steve shot her an odd look and she smiled at him and shrugged her shoulders.

"We've also got a first-timer here. Give it up for Steve, everyone!" He raised his hand with a sheepish smile on his face and waved at the other class participants as they gave him a little applause.

"Okay! Enough with the talk. Let's get started! You know the drill make sure you have a bottle of water at hand and your towel, because I wanna make you sweat!" Ally called out as she pressed play on her iPhone. The speaker instantly filled the room with up-beat dance music and the class immediately kicked off. Squats, curls, large movements, anything to increase the heart rate. Okay, he was down with that. Actually, to his great surprise for the first couple of songs he got his feet sorted and even his arms. Perhaps he could do that after all. Not too bad.

His hopefulness of successfully surviving this class, however, was thoroughly quenched when they got to the third song. "Reggeaton!" Ally shouted out enthusiastically. "Shake your booooooooootaaaaaaaay, ladies… and gentleman," she added with a smug grin. They started out fairly slowly, so the class could ease into the movements. But there was no easing Steve into all that booty shaking and bum wiggling. It just was unnatural. His Irish hips weren't supposed to move like that.

He supposed that had he actually had the time to properly look at Ally, he would have probably enjoyed the show she put on. She was dancing, shaking her hips and all those other body parts with a smile on her face and managed to look graceful in the process. Whereas he had a hard time looking at the reflection of his dancing self in the mirror without blushing or grimacing as it was. "Come on, let's have a little fun with this!" she shouted and for some reason he thought she meant him with that. Right, fun. He could have fun with this. He just had to assume another mindset and not take himself quite as seriously anymore. Maybe the next song would be better. On the up side, his stamina was quite good, so he was able to keep up quite well. Seen from a cardio perspective this workout was surprisingly intense. It sure drove up his heart rate.

Next a Salsa tune started playing. Ally guided the class into a basic salsa step, back and forth. Something Steve was confident he could master. Obviously he did because the instructor grinned and gave him a thumbs-up. They did that step for a couple of more seconds and then switched to another.

"See, we're having fun without a dancing partner?" she grinned at the class. "But even if you wanted to hit the club with those moves it would work out…" When the next basic step came around she directly positioned herself in front of Steve, which was slightly disconcerting to him, because of the way her body moved right in front of him and especially her bum was swaying left and right. He had trouble not stumbling over his feet as it was and not spending too much time staring at her arse like some kind of lewd creeper. Mercifully she soon stepped away from him. So she was teasing him, he concluded. Or maybe not. Maybe she was just outgoing like that.

He was still hung up on those thoughts when they were supposed to do a turn and unfortunately he nearly collided with his neighbor, a middle aged woman who was obviously equipped with a solid sense of humor, because she just brushed the whole incident of with a smile and an amused shake of her head. For lack of a towel, he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and tried to get back into the dance routine.

"Don't forget to drink, you guys," Ally called out before she launched herself into the next up-beat song. Something to drink. Yeah, good idea! Only that Steve had forgotten his water bottle back next to the weight bench. He made a face. He would kill for sip water right now. But he would have to survive for the next 30 minutes without it.

"A little trip to the orient, you guys. Belly-dancing! Yeaaaaah!" The class was cheering and clapping hands, Steve wanted to be able to make himself invisible at that point. Was there a chance he could pry away some of those floorboards, he would try with his bare hands by the way, just to hide underneath them? The song started. He tried not to focus on his own reflection in the mirror. He set his sight firmly on Ally, which also turned out to be a mistake. "Now, ladies… and gentleman," she grinned at him again before she directed her attention back to the rest of class, "next up: shoulder shimmy. We don't want to shake those puppies," she covered her breasts with her hands and made a surprised face. Quite predictably the class laughed. "But move our shoulders individually. Like this." She demonstrated by slowly moving first the right and the left shoulder. "Got it?"

Unfortunately by that time Steve's eyes were firmly settled on her cleavage, which wasn't a good thing. He didn't want to have any more collisions with the woman next to him. He pried his eyes away from Ally's breasts and tried to focus on something more PG-friendly.

Apparently Ally had developed an appetite for torturing him because a couple of minutes later she made the following announcement. "Okay, guys, last fast song for today. Since Steve here is such a good sport and from Ireland, I thought we'd do a little something we haven't done since Saint Paddy's day. An Irish jig." The class clapped hands excitedly.

Ally walked over to her iPhone and quickly browsed through her songs. There was a very brief moment of silence that allowed the class a little breather. Most chose to fill that time with taking a drink from their water bottles or wiping themselves off with their towels. Steve had to use the hem of his shirt for that, because you guessed it, he had forgotten his towel back next to the weight bench. Well, not exactly forgotten. He and his friends had just arrogantly assumed he wouldn't need it in here. They had been wrong about this not being sweat-inducing. And it clearly was more difficult than it looked like.

The first couple of notes of the jig played out. He hadn't done this for a long time and he had never been sober when he had chosen to dance back at home. Usually he needed a couple of pints to lower his inhibitions far enough to actually attempt anything remotely resembling dancing. So what following a whole Zumba class meant to him, was not only a little venture outside his comfort zone, it was more like a daylong hike. At least those steps had something familiar. Not that he was anything near Michael fecking Flatley, but he quickly got the hang of those steps.

After the song Ally gave him an approving nod, this time without the usual teasing grin being thrown in the mix. And quite irrationally he felt proud, like he had really accomplished something.

They proceeded to cool-down and stretching. She was quite flexible, he had to admit. Naturally when it came to flexibility his mind deviated again. He just couldn't help it. Maybe it had been those 60 minutes of watching women shake their bums up close that had reduced him to the point where he had a one-track mind just about everything.

The class ended. Everybody applauded for Ally who bowed with a little smile on her face. "See you all next week! I had a blast with you tonight! Hope you had one too!" There were calls of assent. Ally went back to her routine of chatting a little with the class's participants. For some reason he decided to hang back. He wasn't sure what he wanted to talk with her about, but he felt like chatting a little with her again before he left.

Eventually she made her way back to the front of the room to pack up her things. There was a thin sheen of sweat covering her forehead, her pink hair sticking to her skin in some places. Surprisingly that ever-present smile of hers was still in place. "So you're first ever Zumba class," she summed up. "Did you like it?" she grinned at him, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. Heavens, that woman really couldn't stand still. She was like a live wire.

"It was…" he was looking for a word there to describe the experience.

"Fun?" she supplied. He laughed a little and nodded.

"An' educational," he added. "An' a good cardio work out. But…" he wrinkled his nose, not sure how to put it, "as fun as it was, ye won't see me back next week."

Her smile fell a little. "Really? That's a pity."

"Well, unless ye haven't noticed, lass, I'm not exactly Patrick Swayze." For some reason he felt under the obligation of cheering her up with that admittedly lame joke. "But if yer so determined to have me back here, I suppose could make another wager next week," he grinned.

"What was the wager about any way?" she asked interested stuffing her things into her duffel bag in the meantime. When she turned around she brushed back her hair from her face and swept it back into a ponytail.

"About who could bench press more," he told her.

"Figures," she grinned and looked at his biceps pointedly.

"Do ye do any weight liftin'?" he asked, which made her put down her bag and strike a pose like Arnold at the height of his bodybuilding career. "What do you think?" Her upper arms were toned a little and also her shoulders, but only slightly. It didn't look like she was doing a lot of weight lifting he concluded.

"Those look like little breadsticks," he made a show out of looking her over while he rubbed his beard. "Let me see," he pinched her left upper arm. "Naaaah!"

"Hey!" she swatted away his hand and pouted a little. Both of them were laughing. The atmosphere was relaxed which probably stemmed from the post-workout endorphin outpour.

"Okay," she said slowly. Her smile disappeared there for a second as she eyed him over pensively. It was back when she spoke again. "Tell you what, Steve, now that you were at my mercy for 60 minutes how about you show me how to bench press? It would only be fair. That is if you're up for it and have some time on your hands…"

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_Sound interesting? Let me know and drop me a few lines! In other words: Hit that review button, please!_


	2. Don't Chicken Out

**Author's note: **Thanks for giving this first chapter such a warm welcome. A special thanks to kristal farrelly (How are you, dear? Glad to have you on board again), Mandamirra10 and jouetdedestin. I've had the idea of Steve doing Zumba plaguing my thoughts for a couple of months now. The imagine was just too hilarious and it's all his own thought really. That's what you get for copying Fandango's dance moves. Anyways, you're not here to read about my rambling thoughts, on with the story. Thank you to my super-hero beta UntilNeverDawns. Glad to have your input and your support.

I'd really appreciate it if you could click that review button once you've read this chapter and drop me a couple of lines. Feedback is always helpful!

* * *

He eyed her over once. A smirk formed on his face. "Why not? Ever tried it?" She shook her head. "Ye might wanna start small then."

They left the room and he made his way over to the weights. Stuart and Drew were hanging around somewhere at the back of the room and he could feel their eyes on them when they approached the bench opposite the glass room where Steve and his friends had trained earlier. Fortunately it was empty. He prepared the barbell for her. 40lbs would do nicely for her, he reckoned.

He stood behind her as she eased herself on the bench and promptly hit the back of her head on the barbell. "Oh man! Ouch!" She dissolved in laugher on the bench, rubbing the back of her head and he couldn't help laughing as well. There was something really funny about this situation. How someone could move so gracefully and yet again be such a klutz was just a tiny bit hilarious. He had wanted to keep it harmless, but again his eyes wandered to her chest, how it was moving up and down when she laughed. He averted his eyes quickly. She really was attractive, despite that odd pink hair color.

Darn it! She had noticed the way he was staring at her. "What?" she asked. "Come on, out with it."

He couldn't have well said something about her breasts, so he chose to say something more socially acceptable. "I've been wonderin' 'bout yer hair all night. Why the odd color?"

She looked back with out blinking. "Odd. That's exactly the same question I wanted to ask you…"

"Ha! Funny? So we have a little comedian here... Brilliant. Let's see ye bench press those 40 lbs."

She nodded and grabbed the bar. "Not like that," he admonished her and made some corrections to her posture. "Pinch those shoulder blades together. Yup, there ye go. Ready?" She nodded. He lowered the weight on her outstretched arms. She did 10 reps, which wasn't too bad considering.

"Congrats," he told afterwards. "Not bad for a first-timer."

"Yay me!" She jumped off the bench with her hands in the air, ever the little bundle of energy. He clapped her on the shoulder in approval.

"You know, I kinda wanted to tell you too how I thought you did really well tonight," she said stopping her victory dance and letting her hands sink down. "It must have taken quite some balls to go in there and do the whole class with us," she smirked up at him. "So good job, you! You've got some cojones, mister."

"Thank ye," he grinned.

To his surprise she was already hefting her duffel bag over her shoulder again.

"Yer leavin'," he observed with a slightly dumbfounded expression on his face. The thought of asking her for her number had just occurred to him now and he hadn't nearly worked up enough courage to just come straight out and ask for it yet.

"Yup, gotta hit the showers. I mean look at me," she looked down at herself with a disgusted expression and made an 'ewww' sound. Her clothes were clinging to her slender frame. Her skin was glistening. He could find absolutely nothing wrong with that particular look. He licked his lips.

"I thought that maybe…"

"Yeah?" she grinned brightly.

"Never mind," he chickened out and her face fell somewhat. Feck! Feck! Feck!

"Okay, see you around, Steve," she greeted him, still smiling, but that smile somewhat smaller now.

"See ye. An' thanks. It's been craic."

She waved at him one last time before she disappeared from sight.

* * *

The following days Steve would come to think back to what had happened at the gym again and again. He would also beat himself up over the missed opportunity. He wasn't too sure they would meet again. And maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't get the chance to correct what he clearly viewed as a mistake now.

He was back home, about 10 days later and it was late in the afternoon. He had slept in today and hadn't done his workout yet, so he thought it would be a good idea to go for a little run. He often did in the afternoon and he frequently met other people from around here. He was about 15 minutes into his run, jogging down a street he must have jogged down at least a hundred times, when he noticed her. She was running on the opposite side of the street, coming towards him. He knew the clothes (black leggings, simple blue tank top, baseball cap), knew the running style, every person had their own characteristic way of running, he had noticed over the years, but surprisingly now he also recognized the face and could assign a name to it. Ally. He stopped. She didn't notice him, lost in her own little world, with music blaring away on her headphones.

Now he finally knew why Ally had looked so familiar. They must have jogged past each other a gazillion times. At least ever since he lived in that particular suburb. The fact that he hadn't recognized her thanks to her hair color could also be explained rather quickly. Her hair was hidden away under a baseball cap.

He came out of his daze, she was already a few feet away, so he whipped around to follow her. He quickly caught up with her thanks to his long legs and decided to just jog up next to her. Her eyes only landed on him after a couple of seconds. Perhaps she had thought at first that he just wanted to jog past, when he hadn't she had probably decided to investigate. The expression on her face was priceless. He supposed she recognized him instantly. He wasn't wearing drastically differently clothes from the last time they met. "Steeeeeeeve! Hi!" her voice was a little shrill and loud, because she still had her headphones on and was talking over the music. She pulled them down and they both stopped running. Her smile was a million-watt just like last time they met and could have probably lit up an entire suburb. He liked that about her. She was bouncy and bubbly and that was sort of fun.

"Hi!" he smiled at her as well.

"So you live here as well?" she started a little clumsily.

"Yeah," he nodded and his smile spread into a grin. "Ye know this has been drivin' me crazy. I've kept askin' meself where I knew yer face from." He didn't realize that his words insinuated that he had been thinking about her. Well, she had been thinking about him too. At more than one occasion she had peered outside the window front of her classroom hoping to spot him on the other side.

"Well, now you don't have to wonder anymore. Which way are you going?"

"That way," he lied pointing in the direction she was running.

"Really? Great. I was just finishing my run. You wanna keep me company?"

He nodded and they started running together. Maybe this time he would work up the courage to ask her for her number. He was wondering how to do that as they came closer to his house. He nudged his head in the direction of it. "That's me place, by the way," he said casually.

"Really?" she stopped running. "Some nice place you got there," she said.

"Yeah, ye wanna come on in fer a glass of water?" he suggested. The question had come sort of out of the blue and surprised him as well. He could tell she hadn't expected it either. She looked at him for a second, blinking.

"You're not some kind of serial killer who lures women into his house under the pretense of offering them water, right?"

"No," he laughed.

"Good. Just checking. I won't say no to a glass of water," she shrugged her shoulders.

"Brilliant," he replied and they walked over to the entrance of his house. The lawn was slightly burned. He would have to hire a gardener at some point of this summer who took care of watering it in his absence.

He bent down to untie the key to the front door from his shoelaces. Ally was standing directly behind him and couldn't keep her eyes from inevitably landing on his bum as he bent over. It was really nice to look at, just like the rest of him. He was tall, muscular, obviously had a solid sense of humor and a very nice smile, in short he was rather attractive. She bit her lip when he slid the key in the lock. His back was to her, so he didn't see that.

The air inside the house was cool. It apparently had air conditioning. They walked towards the kitchen straight away. The place was really neat: dark wooden floorboards, white walls, the kitchen was about as big as Ally's living room.

"Wow! Nice," she told him appreciatively and he lowered his gaze and waved her off with his hand. Good-looking, funny and humble. Okay, now he just needed to ask her for her number and everything would be peachy. Why didn't he? He didn't seem the shy sort. Also he seemed to like her or else he wouldn't have asked her to come in. Odd.

For a couple of moments conversation between them was suspended, both of them lost in thought. He stared at her for a brief while before he seemed to remember what they had come here for. "Oh! Water. Right." He turned to the fridge and she followed close behind him. Thanks to the Florida heat outside - it was still around 96 degrees in the evening - she was really thirsty and eager to have that promised water. He opened the door of the fridge and took out two small bottles of water. When he turned around, he found her standing right in front of him. Both of them froze for a second.

This up close she had her first chance at a proper look at him. There were freckles dusting his nose and there were some slight laughter lines around his eyes. His eyes. They were really a showstopper. It was not so much about their color; they were a nice baby blue, but about their expressiveness. They really knocked the breath out of her lungs. She was ripped out of those thoughts when he pressed the ice-cold bottle against her stomach accidentally and she let out a tiny surprised yelp. She had startled him as well she supposed, because the plastic bottle slipped from his grasp and fell down. They both bent down to retrieve it simultaneously and bumped heads. Her baseball cap was knocked off in the process. "Ooooow!" she whined and giggled, rubbing her head when she came up again.

"Yeah!" he grinned also rubbing his head. He had retrieved both the bottle and her cap from the floor. Now he was holding out the bottle to her. He was too cute for words standing there with that grin on his face.

She accepted it from him, their hands touching in the process. This was getting ridiculous, she decided and just took both bottles from his hands. He looked at her in surprise. His surprise lessened when she took a step towards him. They were both still sweaty and in their workout clothes but that didn't really deter her. He looked at her like he wanted to hypnotize her. She could see him breathing faster now, his ribcage falling and rising and it wasn't from the run. She had no idea whether she was overstepping any boundaries here, he was practically a stranger, but she felt insanely attracted to him. She was slightly reassured when he took a step towards her as well. His hand clasped hers. Her fingernails were covered in bright green nail polish. He chuckled softly and raised his eyebrows.

"Yer one crazy lass," he grinned down at her. She chose to take that as a compliment. It sounded like one. His voice was rather low now, it didn't need to be louder, they were standing close enough to each other.

It was clear that they were on the edge of something here and they both enjoyed flirting with that particular edge a little, teetering along it as long as they could. She smiled back sweetly. "Why? Because I like bright colors?"

"Yeah," his other hand came up and toyed with a strand of hair that had fallen out of her ponytail. That pink, cotton candy colored hair was slowly twirled around his index finger. "How does one get hair like that?"

"Why? You like it? Wanna wear yours the same way?" she shot back, trying her hand at a little harmless teasing.

"Actually, yes. A've been dyin' te look like walkin' cotton candy on a stick," he stopped toying with her hair. His fingers went to her face and he tipped up her chin slightly.

"What about your beard? It would have to come off if you went for that cotton candy look. Wouldn't match." Her cute little doll face consisting of stub nose, murky green eyes and a regular, but still noteworthy pair of lips, was all mirthful and smiling. She wasn't intimidated by him in the least, which was a good start.

"I have te keep it fer work."

"And what's that? Guarding a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow?"

He grinned and followed up that grin with an exasperated look. "Yeah, ye got me there, lass. I'm a leprechaun. Actually the Irish Leprechaun Ambassador stationed here in Tampa. Finally that's outta the bag… Been weighin' hard on me conscience."

She smirked and let her finger trace over his beard. "I've never kissed someone with a beard before. Let alone a leprechaun."

"Me neither," he told her and laid his arms around her waist.

She laughed softly. It had her distracted enough so she didn't notice when he moved closer inch by inch. Her eyes widened a little when his lips first touched hers, but she quickly caught on. Her arms slung around his neck and she raised herself to her tiptoes, which made him pull her against his chest.

Kissing him was just as pleasurable as the combined sensation of slipping into a hot tub and taking your first lick of ice cream (provided you didn't have sensitive teeth). It made her feel hot and cold at once. She shivered when his tongue first traced her bottom lip before it finally slipped past it. Her fingers dug a little into the hair at the nape of his neck when the kiss deepened and their tongues first touched and immediately pulled away from each other like they were both shocked by their boldness. It happened again, but this time neither of them pulled back. All was good, almost too good actually, until their teeth clashed and both of them pulled back, chuckling softly.

"Erm… I think we will have to try that again some time," she said taking a step back and reaching for one of those water bottles on the counter behind her.

"Yeah, I think so too."

"Okay," she grinned, taking her first sip of her water.

"So in order to set up a time when we can try next, can I have yer number?"

"We'll see."

"We'll see?" he repeated with a frown on his face, surprised by the sudden turn their conversation had taken. He had been counting on getting her number. It wasn't some kind of arrogant assumption, but because she had kissed him. That generally indicated a certain amount of sympathy.

"Well, d'uh. We haven't had one single consecutive conversation yet." She shrugged her shoulder and threw him a pretty cute smile that kept him from instantly dismissing what she had to say. "Don't be mad, but before I give you my number I kinda wanna know whether you've got more going for you than being this really cute Irish guy." Her remark made him laugh. Also she had just called him cute.

"All right." He motioned at her to continue talking, because there was obviously more she wanted to say. He was leaning against the counter, his legs crossed over each other and his arms also crossed in front his muscular chest.

"Are you free tonight?" she asked him out of the blue.

"Yeah, why?"

"Let's go out," she suggested.

"All right."

"Is that all you're going to say from here on out? 'All right'?"

He grinned. "Nah, I'm just trying to recover from ye not givin' me yer phone number."

"Awww," she swayed a little left and right there with her upper body. "Not used to rejection?"

"Yeah, that's it. Deep, deep down I'm a shy sort a fella, ye know," he winked at her.

"Probably. Or else you would have asked for my number back at the gym a week ago."

They had a little moment there, where they just stood inside his kitchen looking at each other, then that moment passed. "Okay, so I'm gonna go now and we meet up here again in about an hour?"

"Grand. Anythin' ye wanna do?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "It's up to you. Surprise me."

* * *

When she turned up at his doorstep again precisely 65 minutes later, he knew he was in trouble out of two reasons. Reason number one: She looked phenomenal. She had her hair tied back in a simple ponytail. Her tight, shredded jeans hugged her athletic figure in all the right places. When she walked past him through the door, he sucked in a breath, unwittingly inhaling some of her perfume that tickled his nose in a pleasant way. He could see the backside of her loose-fitting black tee that had at first looked fairly casual, but really wasn't. It was cut up and showed off her back and a hint of her neon green bra underneath. Him seeing that bra right there was trouble in itself. It let his imagination run wild. He gulped. Yeah, trouble. Hadn't there been a reason number two? There had been, right? It occurred to him again in that very instant and he started feeling antsy because of it. He didn't have the slightest idea where to go with her.

"Hey handsome," she grinned and inched closer to give him, ending up having to stand on her tiptoes and hold on to his shoulders for balance as she gave him a brief peck on the cheek. For a moment his hands came to rest on the small of her back. Then she stepped back and gave him a not so discreet once over. "Wow! You do clean up nicely. Sort of like a hipster barista, but very cute," she remarked as she took in his jeans, the dress shirt with the rolled-up sleeves, the vest and the flat cap on his head. "And you smell nice."

"So do you," he told her with a grin.

"That's a good start," she replied simply. "So where are you going to take me?"

"Well, erm…There is this place I really like," he suggested. It was fairly run-of-the-mill restaurant at seaside, but it served decent food, nothing too fancy. He just hoped he hadn't misjudged her there and she didn't expect champagne and lobster.

"OK. Sounds good. Let's go," she said simply. He grabbed his keys and headed after her through the door, his eyes involuntarily falling on her shapely backside. He caught himself checking her out… again and forced his gaze to travel lower, along her legs down to her shoes. Black trainers with just a hint of pink? He smiled. Okay, he hadn't expected that. Usually women wore high heels on date night, right? But since she was a dancer maybe she preferred trainers. They were sort of stylish and probably also a bit hip, he grudgingly had to admit, though he wasn't a big fan of that sort of shoes. He preferred heels.

She was patiently waiting by his car and he unlocked it with a sheepish grin. They got inside. His index finger hovered over the start engine button for a second or two before he let his hand sink down on his knee again. "I s'ppose I have to tell ye somethin' before we head over te the restaurant…"

"Let me guess. You're married?"

"No."

"You're a drug baron?"

"No," he grinned.

"Hmmmmmm, that accents a fake and you're really Texan?"

"No," full-blown laughter now.

"You're out of work, broke and want to borrow money from me?"

"No! Jaysus! What kind of blokes do ye usually go out with, lass?" he was grinning and frowning at the same time, while she continued her little 20 questions game.

"A girl can never be too cautious," she told him with a shrug. "Let's see. So you're Arnold Schwarzenegger's long lost Irish son then?" she asked, now with a teasing smile on her lips.

"No, but I do sorta admire that bloke," he winked at her.

"Of course you do, sweetie," she grinned, pointedly looking down at his thick biceps. "So what is that you have to tell me?" she added impatiently, flipping the end of her ponytail over her shoulder, while she shot him an expectant look with her black-rimmed eyes.

"I'm kind a famous," he admitted almost embarrassedly.

Her eyes narrowed to two slits. "I've never met someone who was kind a famous… What exactly does kind a famous mean?"

He hesitated. What was he supposed to tell her? The whole truth was probably a good idea in case anyone recognized him tonight. Then again this was tricky business. It was always hard to determine for him whether people, especially women, genuinely liked him as a person or just because he was on TV twice a week. Well, in her favor he had to say that she had asked him out before she knew anything about that famous business.

And it looked like she was rather curious to learn more. "Come on already. What does that mean?" she pressed on.

"I'm a professional wrestler with the WWE," he told her. It was brief and efficient. Or so he thought.

"What's the WWE?"

She had to be kidding him there.

"Ye serious?" She nodded. "The biggest wrestling company in the world. Ye have heard of Hulk Hogan, have ye?"

"Yes, but really?" she started laughing. "You're pulling my leg, right?" He gave her his best sincere look, which oddly enough made her conclude he was messing with her. "No way!" she decreed.

"I'm not messin' with ye, lass. I really am a wrestler," he said, trying his best to convince her, although he was sort of upset she didn't believe him.

"Sorry. Nice try, but no freaking way."

"Yes freakin' way. Believe it or not, there are even bloody action figures that look like me," his voice got a bit louder there.

"Really?" she narrowed his eyes. "No, that's just too leftfield. Can't be. You seem far too normal and down-to-earth for that. I always thought wrestler were a little cuckoo in the head, if you get my drift," she shook her head.

He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face, deciding to let that cuckoo comment slide. "Ye know what? How about a little detour to the supermarket? We can go an' check out the toy department there if ye don't believe me. Or ye could just get out yer mobile, Google me an' be done with it. Me ring name is Sheamus."

He seemed annoyed and a little disgruntled. It made her giggle. "I don't like Googling people. That's creepy stalker behavior… Let's do the thingy with the supermarket instead."

"Jaysus! Can't believe I'm saying that, but 'okay', let's head over to Wal-Mart's of all places."


	3. Who Are You Again?

**Author's note:** _A big thanks to my awesome beta UntilNeverDawns. Thank you asprankle1 and kristal farrelly for dropping me those kind lines! Ally is indeed going to be shocked to see proof that Steve is a celebrity, but she'll recover. She's a tough cookie. Have fun reading and maybe hit that review button on your way out. It would mean a lot to me._

* * *

So they headed over to the supermarket, it was around 8pm at that point. He parked the car and gave her an expectant look.

She threw him a sweet smile and his annoyance began to slowly disappear. "Come on," she gave his shoulder a gentle nudge with her hand. "Don't be grumpy."

"Couldn't ye have jus' taken me word fer it?"

She looked at him, inclining her head a little to the right. "And missed this adorable little meltdown of yours? No way. So cute! Also," she grinned and touched his arm in a confidential way, her thumb rubbing over his skin once before she retracted her hand, "I'll let you in on a little secret, I do already sort of believe you. But…" now her smile suddenly grew somewhat teasing, "Seeing one of those action figures would admittedly cancel out that last little bit of doubt." She gave him a puppy dog look from underneath her lashes. "I hope that's not so bad."

"So you don't mind about me being famous?"

"You know what? I genuinely don't know," she shrugged. "I just wanted to go out with you because you're cute and fun. I don't have really much experience with that being famous stuff, so no idea how that'll go. Is that good enough for you?"

He shrugged his shoulders and gave her a blank look.

"Exactly. It's still too early to make this more complicated than it is. Besides," she chewed her bottom lip pensively, "accepting complication means that there is something worth fighting for and right now we don't even know what there is and if there is anything at all. So let's figure that out first, ok?"

"Ok," he nodded, but didn't move.

"Now all that talk about that action figure deal has made me curious. How about we head in there and check them out?" she pointed over her shoulder towards the entrance of the supermarket. He nodded at her, his mouth setting into a crooked smirk.

They got out of the car and started walking across the half empty parking lot. Ally came up beside him, her seriousness from before swept away again, making her gait energetic and bouncy. Without much pretext she grabbed his hand and shot him a cute little smile. She was really a strange girl. Almost disgustingly chipper, quirky, positive and energetic. She disposed of a strangely eclectic, yet fashionable sense of style and by the looks of it she had a solid sense of humor and a sharp tongue. Certainly not your run-of-the-mill girl, but there was something about her that made him curious, so he reciprocated her smile and let her prevail.

A couple of seconds later they were standing in front of a shelf filled with WWE action figures. Admittedly Ally's face had plummeted a little when she first had had a look at those colorful boxes displayed there. She picked up one that contained a plastic figure that was supposed to be his likeness. He looked at her expectantly. They weren't holding hands any longer. She looked back at him, then back at the box. Okay, so he was famous. Her nose crunched up a little in worry as she absorbed that thought. Her eyes were drawn back to the boxed action figure in her hands. There was a photograph of him on the box that, according to her, didn't really do him justice. In fact he looked like a ginger lunatic bin fugitive in it. She brought the box closer to her face and frowned. Finally she cracked a smile and beside her Steve discreetly breathed a sigh of relief. She had him worried there for a couple seconds. Now those worries disappeared as she held up the box next to his face, as far up towards it as she could reach anyways and in joking tones proclaimed that it was a good approximation. He would make sure to let the fellows over at Mattel know that (That's irony right there, folks). But she wasn't done yet. Since little plastic Sheamus was half naked, she threw Steve a wicked grin and he braced himself for the inevitable comment to ensue. "And they sell those dolls to kids? Really? I'm curious. Is the rest a good approximation as well?" she asked, her tongue poking out a little from the right corner of her mouth.

He crossed his arms over his chest and grinned smugly. "Even better live an' in person."

"Uh-huh," her eyes sparkled. "Great! So that means you're also handy around the kitchen…." He frowned at her in confusion and she was quick to clear things up for him with a cheeky grin on her face. "You don't get it, huh? Well, I think those abs of yours could come in handy next time I want to shred a cucumber at home… Can I have a look?" She actually reached for his shirt there as if she wanted to peek underneath it. So on top of everything she had no boundaries. Strangely enough that amused him.

He playfully smacked her hand away. "Not on the first date, ye insolent little thing," he growled, trying to tease her.

"Ooooh, he calls me insolent. Got that right, mister. Insolent, disrespectful and disgustingly cheerful, that's me. You should know what you're getting yourself into," she told him with a cheeky, but also somewhat proud grin.

She squealed a little in surprise when he lifted her up without a warning and hoisted her over his shoulder. There had been no strained expression on his face, maybe a look of concentration, but apart from that no indication that lifting her up was strenuous to him. By all means she should have been a little intimidated by that, but instead of being afraid, she felt delighted, even amused, which was odd. Soon she started laughing. She supposed that what he brought out of her and she was surprised by it, but pleasantly so. Her laughter grew louder, especially when he said the next words: "Yer a right little brat, ye know? Do ye have any idea how hard I have te train te look like that?"

"Oh, boohoo! All that training for those abs! Why don't you go and cry a little over in that corner! Poor, poor famous action figure guy," she giggled and he gently swatted her behind once before he pretended to carry her away from the toy shelf. She was neither screaming bloody murder for him to let her down nor did she seem particularly upset. Nevertheless he didn't want to test his luck, so he set her down again. There was a healthy red glow on her cheeks, her eyes were sparkling and she was beaming up at him with a broad, toothy smile. "That was fun. Let's do that again," she proclaimed, hugging the action figure to her chest like a baby.

The urge to kiss her swept over him unexpectedly. They certainly were in an odd spot for it: the toy aisle of Wal-Mart's, of all places, but there was something about her that attracted him to her. Not only was she fun to be around, but at this point it also felt like they had known each other for several years and not just hours. Perhaps something similar was going on in that head of hers as well, because her hand was now resting on the fabric of his shirt that been warmed up by his body heat. Underneath her palm his heart thudded away inside his ribcage. She took a step closer. He licked his lips. Then he heard the shuffling of feet behind him and the rattling of a stubborn wheel of a cart. They weren't alone, still out in public. You never knew where those people with their cameras were lurking. He chose to just give a harmless one-armed hug and a peck on the cheek, before he pulled away.

"Friend-zoned. On the cheek like I'm his freaking auntie," she grumbled under her breath disgruntledly, but was also smiling a little, so he concluded she wasn't strictly serious.

He tried to appease her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. They started walking down the aisle at a leisurely pace. "No, definitely not friend-zoned," he reassured her. "An' by the way, luv, me aunt, bless her heart, isn't nearly such a fine thing like yerself."

"Thanks," she beamed triumphantly and they walked over to the check-out counter where oddly enough she managed to talk him into getting one chocolate bar for each of them for which he insisted paying on top of the action figure. Since there was no use trying to bodily wrangle the plastic toy and the chocolate bars from his hands, she resigned herself to watching him pay for everything. She didn't stand a chance against him. She had always considered herself regular sized, but he was that much taller than her and came equipped with longer arms that could hold objects out of her reach. Maybe next time she should opt for those high heels. That or she should consider bringing a ladder.

They were already on their way out when she spotted a photo booth and thought back to how much fun it had been squeezing in there with her friends as a teen and have her picture taken. "Come on, let's do that! It's gonna be fun!" she called out on a whim. She grabbed his elbow and looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with glee. He learned right then and there it was hard for him to deny her anything, so he shook his head and sighed a little, but let her drag him over to the photo booth. There was only one small, leather-cushioned stool in the little cabin on which she motioned him to sit and safeguard the action figure for her while she eagerly fed the machine with a couple of dollars bills.

"Do I have to get in already?" she asked excitedly. "Does it start right away?"

"No," he smiled at her behavior and her enthusiasm. "There are all sorts of instructions. At any rate ye have te press some buttons in here first. Doesn't start off before that."

"Oh, OK. Awesome," she grinned, but stopped, standing in the door of the cabin, holding back the curtain. Suddenly she seemed unsure how to proceed. Despite everything, just sitting down on his lap would probably be rude. Luckily Steve saved her from working through that little dilemma. He just pulled her unto his lap wordlessly, which made her feel giddy and giggle like a teenager.

"So when I press that button, it's going to count down from ten and then it's going to take the first picture, right?" she wrinkled her nose, while she read those instructions. Her facial expression were even cuter that up close. He grinned.

"Go ahead an' press that button then," he said simply and shrugged.

"Any ideas for that first picture yet?"

"There are ideas required fer that?" he asked back, pinching her side to tease her.

She swatted his hand away. Her fingers were cold and a bit clammy. He didn't mind though. "How about we try a mean glare first?" she suggested. "Can you do mean?"

"Can I do mean?" he scoffed. "I bleedin' invented mean."

"Let's find out," she said and pressed the button in front of her that started off the countdown, her hand trembling a little when she reached out. 10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1… Flash! The first picture was taken and showed a perfectly credible mean glare from Stephen and Ally who was dissolving in hysterics looking at him.

"I'm going to erase that," she said quickly, still huffing a little from her giggle fit.

"The hell ye will, lass. No erasin'. Press that button again," he commanded.

By the time they had done photo number four they were both laughing. She was wiggling around on his lap because of that and he had to hold on to her, so she wouldn't slip down to the floor. The machine was already busy printing out two strips with the photos, one for each of them. She quickly snatched up those strips as soon as the photo booth spit them out and looked at them. He was doing the same, looking over her shoulder. She could feel his inhales and exhales on her skin, because her shirt had slipped down on one side and it made it difficult for her to focus on the pictures. They were really cute. In addition to the picture where he was glaring and she was dissolving in a fit of hysterics, there was one of them making duck faces, another in which they made silly faces and the last showed both of them just laughing into the camera.

"Here," she held out his slip with the pictures to him. He took it from her and gave it a long, lasting look before let it disappear in his wallet. It made her smile. Perhaps that meant something or perhaps he just had no other place to put the pictures. At any rate it was a nice gesture.

She reluctantly got up from her rather comfortable place on his lap and swept back the curtain, so they could leave the booth.

They strolled across the nearly empty parking lot. He had his hands stuffed into his pockets and she walked next to him with a smile on her face and that action figure box tugged under her arm. He gently nudged her shoulder with arm, wanting that smile to be directed at him. They shared a look. She eventually lowered her eyes again, blushing.

"So back on track with the usual date stuff?" he asked when they were finally back inside his car moments later.

"Yes, please. I'm starvin'. I haven't had anything to eat in between those two classes of yoga today and that run after. I so need to be fed right now," she told him, already unwrapping her chocolate bar and stuffing her face with it. Apparently she didn't seem to care much for the ancient law, passed down from countless mammies to their children, that you weren't supposed to eat chocolate before dinner. He sort of liked that. A lot. In fact he approved so much that he started munching on his chocolate bar as well.

"So what is Ally short for?" he asked casually as he put the car into drive, taking another bite out of his chocolate bar.

"Allegra," she replied darkly.

"Really?"

"Really."

"Allegra Sophie Harrison."

"Stephen Farrelly. Pleasure," he quickly shook her hand, then grabbed the steering wheel again.

"I always thought Allegra sounded a bit conceited. Don't you think that Allegra is, I don't know, a bit over the top?" It became clear by the way she pronounced her own name that she wasn't very happy with it.

"It does sound a bit posh. Has me thinkin' rich heiress."

"Exactly," she said darkly.

"Which ye are?"

"No! God no! Don't tell me you're looking for a rich heiress… That would be so messed up."

"No," he smiled. "Paris Hilton isn't exactly me cup a tea."

"Good to know."

"So how is that fitness instructor stuff workin' out fer ye?"

"Well, mostly it's a lot of fun, but sometimes isn't." She shrugged. "Just like most jobs, I think. I do four Zumba classes a week and about just as many yoga classes."

"Yoga… u-huh."

He saw her cross her arms over her chest out of the corner of his eyes. "What exactly does 'yoga u-huh' mean? Sounds like a big, fat prejudice to me."

"Erm… Well, don't take it the wrong way, but I just can't imagine ye sittin' down fer a period longer than five minutes in a row."

"I AM able to do that," she protested actually sounding a little offended there.

"It's not like I don't tink ye have it in ye. Ye jus' always seem so bubbly, which I really like about ye by the way…"

"Very suave. Paddling back like a real pro here."

"Come on, luv, don't be cross."

"I'm not cross. I'm just having an opinion."

"So then tell me why is it that yer always so hyper?"

She didn't answer for a while and pretending to be deeply engrossed with what was written on the back of that action figure box all of a sudden. He hadn't been aware she read Mandarin. Interesting, he thought to himself ironically. Finally she talked again, her voice lacking the usual firmness and reassurance. "Ugh… Well, this is gonna sound all kinds of mature now… You kinda make me a bit nervous and that's the way I compensate."

"Is that so?" he flashed her a grin and caught a glimpse of her looking adorably embarrassed. He really wanted to do more than grin at her right now, maybe squeeze her hand to reassure her, but that wasn't an option. Luckily they were nearly at the restaurant. Just a quick turn right, okay, parking spot over there, reverse, put the car in park. He let go of the steering wheel and reached for her hand. It was still a little clammy, but he didn't mind that.

When he looked at her, he saw a chocolate crumb sitting in the corner of her mouth and leaned towards her to brush it away with his index finger. His plan of only reaching out his hand to wipe it away was foiled by the instant attraction him leaning forward created between them. He still held her hand in his. She smiled at him and she downcast her eyes a little, suddenly not so brave and outspoken. There was a rustle of fabric when he leaned closer. Her eyes instantly shot up and met his. "Just so you know, you're going to kill every last little bit of confidence I have if you kiss me on the cheek again," she spoke softly.

"It's not gonna be the cheek this time," he reassured her before his lips slowly descended on hers. Just like he had suspected he could still taste the chocolate on them and it was a great taste. One he wanted to explore a little more thoroughly and she gave him every indication she was okay with that by opening her mouth a fraction more. His tongue slowly slipped in-between her lips. He could feel her respond to that by pressing up a little more against him. She also moved her arm upwards and then her fingers slowly glided through his hair from his temple to the back of his head where they remained and slowly started kneading his hair. The tip of her tongue touched his. His fingers gathered a fistful of her shirt. He sucked in a surprised breath through his nostrils when the touch of her tongue turned from innocent and probing to slightly teasing and playful. He smiled against her lips, thoroughly satisfied with the outcome of the situation. Unfortunately it was too early to take this to the next level, so he decided to tone it down a notch. The kiss slowly faded out into a series of short and sweet pecks until she leaned her head against his shoulder and he pressed his lips to her forehead.

"We're doing this all wrong. Kissing comes at the end of the date. Not before it's started or in the middle."

"Does that mean ye mind doin' things the unorthodox way?"

"Well, in general 'no'. But when it comes to dating I'm usually doing it the conservative way. But I have to admit we really don't suck at kissing," she said softly.

"No, can't say we do," he replied with a smile on his lips.

She pulled back to study his face for a second. Whatever conclusion she must have reached, it seemed to be favorable one, because she grabbed his hand and smiled. "Come on. Let's be good and start doing thing in the right order again. Food. Now."

"Have ye noticed how yer sort a bossin' me around all the time?" he told her as he got out of the car. "Do people actually find that attractive?"

"Well, hello?" she pointed at her chest. "That's part of my job. Kind of," she smiled and quickly rounded the car to pop up at his side again and reach for his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world and not a rather new development.

"It's part of yer job te boss yer dates around? Some strange job that is," he commented, which made her stick out her tongue at him.

They entered the restaurant, which was near the waterfront and had a beautiful patio out back. Since he hadn't been able to order a table for them, they didn't have a huge variety of options to choose from. "There's something free on the patio," the waiter announced. "It just gets a little chilly out there at night, but we have blankets and heaters…" While Steve was well on board with the patio idea - he was from Ireland for crying out loud, the country where it rained most summers - he wasn't so sure how Ally would take it. Surprisingly she took it like a real trooper. She just grinned and shrugged her shoulders. So the patio it was.

"Nice place," she commented when the waiter had left. The patio was more like a wood terrace. Behind them there was the beach and the waves licking at the sand. She had a cozy looking blanket over her legs, the tables were decorated with candles, a soft breeze was playing with her hair, and in the background the water was making calming rushing noises. The warm glow of the candlelight was bathing her features in an orange hue and he felt some ridiculously romantic words bubble up inside his head. They already were at the tip of his tongue. "Ye really look gorgeous tonight…"

She looked at him, her head had been turned towards the water for a second, her eyes sparkled and there was a smile on her face. "Thank you," she replied. There was a hint of red on the bridge of her nose now. Was she blushing? She touched her cheek. "So do you," she said softly and picked up the menu.

"I'm gorgeous?" he grinned.

She rolled her eyes. "Handsome. That better?"

"Are ye flirtin' now?" he teased.

"Please, we hardly know each other," she replied, her voice halfway between being serious and joking. After all they were practically perfect strangers, perfect strangers with some strange bond of mutual attraction slowly blossoming between them.

"So let's get to know each other," he suggested, also reaching for that menu and letting his eyes roam over it without any real interest.

"You make it sound so simple. It hardly ever is."

"So yer a cynic?"

"No"

"Good." He looked at her. "As fer whether it's simple or not, let's try an' figure that out as we go, shall we?"

She nodded with a smile on her face and started studying her menu as well. After a while she put it down, just to find him looking at her. "Steve…" she started.

"Yes?"

"Why are you called the Celtic Warrior?"

"Where'd you get that from?"

"I can read and it was sort of written in very big letters on that box of the action figure."

"A-ha," he laughed. She apparently was rather curious. "So that's what ye wanna know?"

She nodded.

The waiter taking their orders briefly interrupted them, and then they were alone again, comparatively alone. Because apart from them, only two other lunatic couples had chosen to sit out on the patio.

"You wanted to tell me about that Celtic Warrior thing," she reminded him.

"Right. Have ye ever been te Ireland?"

"What's that got to do with any of that?"

"Jus' about everythin'," he told her. "So have ye?"

"No," she shook her head and it seemed she was almost regretful about that.

"Ye really should go there some time. Yer gonna like it… Anyway," he sighed, pushing the nostalgic memories of his home country away to the back of his mind where they were a constant and reassuring presence. "We are a people very much in touch with our legends an' tales of old. Back in Gaelscoil," he probably saw the incomprehension written all over her features and hurriedly added a couple of explaining words, "that's primary school for ye… It's where we all learn about legendary heroes like Cú Chulainn an' Brian Boru. So as a young lad I was pretty impressed with that."

"Hence the Celtic Warrior stuff," she concluded.

"Hence the Celtic Warrior stuff," he confirmed, the last word sounding really peculiar in his Irish brogue.

"So what made those guys so impressive?" she asked and leaned back in her seat a little, her legs neatly crossed over each other underneath the table. She feeling more comfortable with him now, which luckily allowed her to lead a longer, coherent conversation with him and get to know him a little better.

"I don't know," he thought for a moment, his eyes assuming for a second a faraway look before they focused back on her. They seemed to sparkle briefly when he spoke. That topic clearly filled him with enthusiasm. "They were men..."

"Men," she wrinkled her nose.

"Yeah, real men. They believed in honor, they had principles they lived by, determination, an iron will, strength… Ye've got te admit that doesn't sound too bad now, does it?"

"And you named yourself in their honor, because you think you're like them?" There was still a frown on her face.

He scoffed. "Nah, that would be pretty conceited, wouldn't it? At best I can strive te be like them."

"Like that Cú Chulainn guy?" she smiled, the name rolling from her lips with some difficulty. "That's Gaelic, right?"

He nodded.

"Which you speak?"

He nodded again.

"Fluently?"

"Back at Gaelscoil probably, but it's gotten a bit rusty since then. Later I chose to pick up French at school. Figured it was more useful. Well, that was that fer Gaelic. Besides it's not like I have anyone te speak it with 'round here."

He had half-expected her to ask him to say something in Gaelic now, most people did, but oddly enough she didn't. Maybe she didn't want to put him on the spot. "OK," she replied simply. Her next question came out sort of random. "I know it's kind of strange, but I don't think I've ever asked you. How old are you?"

The bluntness of it and also the impromptu delivery made him chuckle softly. Also it was odd they only covered that topic now. It usually came up much earlier in the getting-to-know-phase. "36. Ye?" Their drinks arrived (water for her and a Coke for him) and the presence of the waiter postponed her answer a little. "31," she answered when he was gone.

"Really?" he asked in surprise. "I was thinkin' more like 26. Ye don't look it."

"Gee, thanks. Wanna know a secret?" She curled her index finger at him invitingly. He leaned closer across the table curiously, his drink, from which he had just taken a sip, in hand. She grinned. "Actually I've been lying about my age. I'm really 17. Hope you like jailbait," she quipped, obviously joking. She might not look over 30, but there was no way anyone would mistake her for a teenager.

He coughed and spluttered on his first sip of Coke, because she had surprised him with her comment and made him laugh. In return she started to giggle as well. "Sorry 'bout that."

"No worries. I prefer te drink me Coke through me nose anyway," he told her, sounding a tiny bit huffy as he dapped his mouth with his napkin. "So me turn." She instantly perched up a little in her seat. "Did ye always want te be a fitness instructor?"

"No, I was a dancer first…"

"Ballet?"

"Hip hop, street dance. But… ugh, I never made it big. Never got to dance in any video clips next to JAY Z, 50 or Snoop. It's hard to get to a level where you can really earn a living with that kind of job, you know."

He nodded. Of course he did. In a way the dream of being a dancer was just as impossible and unlikely as being a wrestler.

"So why'd ye stop dancin'?"

She smiled. "Because I'm old."

"Ye're not old," he corrected her gently.

"That's nice of you to say…" she reached out and gave his hand two gentle pats over the table before she retracted it again, "but unfortunately if you're a dancer you're past your prime once you hit 30. So with that window of opportunity closing, I needed to start looking around for something else to do…"

"Midlife crisis?" he smirked.

"Hey, careful!" she raised her index finger jokingly. "Or you'll make me point out to you that being 36 qualifies as being a middle-aged gentleman."

"Ouch!" he sucked in a breath of air through his teeth, which made her chuckle. "Below the belt, girlie, far, far below the belt."

"Flattery is really old-fashioned. It won't get a girl anywhere these days," she winked at him.

"I don't know. I'm a pretty old-fashioned fella. Maybe ye should give it a try," he told her, suppressing a smirk of his own.

She shook her head. "I think not. You like being teased."

"What makes ye say that?" he laid his folded hands down on the table and scooted to the edge of his seat to lean towards her over the table. His face was looking deceptively neutral and serious, but she wasn't fooled so easily.

She shrugged. "An educated guess? Also your eyes sort of did a little flashy thing when I started teasing you like you we're enjoying yourself."

"How'd ye know? Maybe that was jus' me bein' happy about the prospect of a decent meal in the near future. Ever thought of that?" He was teasing her now. On purpose and with great delight, there was no doubt about that.

"Maybe," she conceded. "Maybe you're way, waaaay more mysterious than I gave you credit for."

"Nice try butterin' me up," he flashed her a mocking smile. "How 'bout we talk 'bout ye little middle crisis some more, shall we? The pink hair looks like an indicator fer that if ye ask me. What's up with that anyway?"

For a second his comment actually made her stare at him with her mouth agape. Her outrage was however only an exaggeration of her true feelings. Deep down she wasn't really offended. She was rather intrigued. "I can't believe you just said that!" she said, her voice vibrating with suppressed laughter.

"Ye'd better," he winked at her.

"I'm not sure I wanna answer your question anymore…"

"Oh, come on, don't be a spoilsport…"

"All right. Brace yourself, here's the big one: My natural color is really boring."

"Grey?"

"Oh my God! It's brown!" she laughed and actually gave his shoulder a gentle shove over the table.

"Ah-hah," he smirked, filing that information away in his head. "So when that pink washes out…"

"My hair won't be brown. It'll be blonde. Like really, really blonde."

"That's not so bad."

"I knew you would say that. Most men like blondes." She wrinkled her nose like that was a bad thing.

"True, but hair colors are superficial," he told her. "It's about what's in here," he tapped his chest.

"Ewwww. Did you really just say that? That was cheesy…" she made a face, which made him laugh softly. "Also I hope you weren't trying to tell me something about boob jobs, which would be a bold move for a first date. And slightly gross."

He raised his left eyebrow. "Definitely."

"Yep… Still a cheesy line though."

"Why? That's what it boils down to in the end."

"Yeah, except that it's more like a combination of things really. A guy can look like some Greek god and then, once he opens his mouth ruin it all with a single sentence. Attraction is based on so many factors. Looks, voice, smell, behavior, intelligence…" she actually enumerated those points on her fingers.

"So what about me?" he asked her with a teasing grin.

"What about you?" she asked back, playing dumb on purpose.

They never got to answer each other's questions. As if on cue their food arrived. They ate in silence, but still threw each other the occasional lingering glance. He doubted she would have had much time for conversation anyway what with those appreciative sound she made while she was stuffing her face with food (although she surprisingly managed not to eat like a slop). She had gone for grilled chicken breasts and vegetables and he had opted for the steak and salad. He watched her eat with a mixture of amusement and fascination.

At one point being watched must have annoyed her a little, because she stopped and gave him a look. "What's up?"

"Nothin'," he lied and after staring at him for a moment suspiciously, she continued wolfing down her food. When it was gone, her fingers started drumming on the tablecloth. Apparently dinner had refueled her energy. He caught her hands because she was starting to make him jittery as well. Also it was a good excuse to touch her again.

"So, what ye wanna do now, luv?" he asked her, not ready to end the evening then and there.

"How about we go dancing?"

Quite predictably her proposal made him frown. "Haven't ye had enough of me humiliatin' meself in front of ye with me dancin' moves already?"

"You'll find out that I can never get enough of that." She leaned a little across the table, her eyes sparkling in mischief as she formulated the following plan: "What if I bought you a nice bottle of beer to hold onto while I did most of the dancing?"

He grinned. "Now that sounds like somethin' we'd both have fun with. We have a deal, girlie. Yer on."


	4. A Complicated Kind of Attraction

**Author's note**: _Thank you so much for giving "The Pixie and the Warrior" a chance. A special thanks to asprankle1, DevilRae and kristal farrelly and as always to my beta UntilNeverDawns, whose bad habits (They are not bad habits, luv!) I'm picking up._

_ We're going to the club now :-) If you want to read this chapter with a soundtrack go listen to "Fireball" by Pitbull and "Wiggle" by Jason Derulo. Yes, I didn't come up with those songs. Kind of obvious..._

* * *

They paid and left the restaurant. A little bit of haggling went down over the bill. He was apparently old-fashioned and wanted to pay for everything tonight, whereas she didn't want to come across as a gold digger leeching off a man's money. Surprisingly it only needed a couple of words in his smooth Irish brogue to convince her to see things his way. She swore however, that she would buy the drinks at the club. Only then did the hitch in her plan occur to her: He was driving and hence drinks weren't a good idea.

"How about we head back to your place, lose the car and call a cab to take us over to the club from there?" she suggested and he all too readily agreed to that.

* * *

So she took him to her favorite club in the Tampa area, which he had surprisingly never been to. They waited in line for the bouncer to wave them through. It took them less than five minutes to get in. The man at the door knew her and that had certain perks. Inside the club the beat of the loud music blasted away and the air was heavy and humid from the many people in there. It was too loud to talk, so she clasped Steve's hand in hers and led him over to the bar. The place was crowded and she ended up more or less sandwiched between the bar and his tall and muscular body standing behind her while she placed her order.

"Hey!" she hollered at the bartender. Her big smile was visible in the mirror behind the bar and would doubtlessly help to speed up her order. "Can you get us two shots of…" she faltered and threw Steve a questioning glance over her shoulder. He leaned down and spoke in her ear. "Whiskey," she completed the sentence with a grin. The grin was not only owed to the circumstance of him whispering in her ear, it was more or less a result of the giddiness she felt thanks to his chest pressing against her back and the pleasant smell of his cologne that tickled her nostrils.

Her order arrived a couple of seconds later. She picked up the glasses and turned around to hold his out to him. He took it from her hands.

"Sláinte," he told her and raised his glass in salute.

"Cheers," she replied and they both knocked back their shot. Immediately after she made a face and coughed a little. "Gaaaah! That's some strong stuff!"

He just grinned and lightly slapped her back. "Ye jus' gotta toughen up a little, lass. It's not gonna kill ye."

"But it's going to make me drunk off my ass," she quipped back.

He wrinkled his nose in disapproval. "Not really our objective tonight, innit?"

"Nope," she replied. "I kinda do wanna remember tonight. So how about we opt for a nice, innocent beer next?" He nodded in agreement. "What are you having?"

"Guinness?"

"OK," she replied and got herself a Corona and a Guinness for him. Luckily they found themselves a free booth near the dance floor from which they could observe the dancing crowd while they nursed their beers. He casually laid his arm around her shoulders, waiting for her to protest, but she didn't. They sat there whispering joking comments into each other's ears until they played a song she seemed to like. Her knee started bouncing up and down. He could sense her getting hyper again, so he leaned closer to her ear. "Come on then. Get up an' go dancin'. I'll be waitin' here fer ye."

"Really?" she shot him a questioning look. It didn't feel okay to leave him behind.

"Yeah, me feet," he looked down at them, which made her noticed those shiny Oxford shoes he was wearing for the first time, "are not made fer dancin'. At least not in a sober state."

"So let me get this straight, does that mean you would be dancing if I managed to make you tipsy?" she grinned, already forming a battle plan in her head.

"Maybe."

"I can work with a maybe."

"Now stop wastin' time. Go an' have a dance while that song's still playin'." He actually gave her a little, gentle nudge in the direction of the dance floor.

"Why are you so eager to see me go? Are you two-timing me or something? Got a second date going on the side?"

"Two-timing you?" he laughed. "Please," he placed his hand over his heart and shot her an innocent look, "I'm a middle-aged gentleman. I lack the energy fer that. Havin' a date with ye takes up all of it, darlin'. Besides, I was lookin' forward te the show ye were doubtlessly goin' te put on down there," he winked at her.

"Oh, really? Me? A show? Down there? I'm not that much of a show-off," she told him, at which he just raised his eyebrows. He had seen her dance at the gym and back then she certainly hadn't been shy. "All right. You win. When it comes to dancing I am. But it's just because I love it so much," she clarified, stood up and put her bottle on the table.

"Slainte, luv," he toasted her with his bottle. "Admittin' the problem is the first step te healin'…"

She stuck out her tongue at him.

"Now get that cute arse of yers down there," he told her with a grin. "I want me show."

"Cute arse. Pfff!" She made sure to put a little sass in her walk as she strutted over to those three steps that let down to the dance floor. Unfortunately her inner klutz chose to manifest itself in that moment and she ungracefully stumbled down the stairs. It looked more spectacular than it was. She quickly turned around after to shoot him a sheepish grin and give him a thumbs-up sign. He was chuckling and shaking his head, without making her feel like he was mocking her. She smiled as she turned around and continued her way to the dance floor. People surrounded her immediately and while she could no longer see Steve, she knew he could see her, because the booth was a little higher up than the dance floor.

Luckily the song was still playing and right up her alley. She giggled as she did a little shoulder shimmy along to the dinging of the bell that was mixed into the song at one point. As always when music was playing, her feet started taking on a life of their own and she got into the groove of the music. It was a blend of salsa music and hip-hop. She did a little body roll when the line "I'm on fire. I'm on fi-aaaa-re," blared through the speakers. The song built up to a crescendo. She was booty shaking and having fun by then. The whole club practically screamed the world "Fireball!" when the chorus came along. The energy was high. People around her were smiling, jumping around and enjoying themselves. She was smiling too. The vibe inside the club was positive, upbeat and infectious. Everyone was having a good time. Usually she would just continue dancing at this point, but something… or rather someone was missing. She felt guilty; also she wanted him to have fun with her. Her smile disappeared. This was just not right. He needed to be here with her. So when the song ended, she marched over to the bar and ordered up two more shots of whiskey. Thanks to batting her eyes a little at the bartender, he gave her a little serving tray, which she had to promise not to take out of the club. Well, she had no intention of doing that. It was only a little accessory for her entrance anyway.

It bordered on a small miracle that she was able to make her way towards Steve without spilling the amber liquid in those two shot glasses. When she was in viewing distance of the booth, she noticed how a girl was trying to chat him up and the sight sent her blood boiling immediately. Obviously the girl wanted to sit down next to him, but she could see him shaking his head and smiling, so her pulse, which had spiked for a second there, instantly slowed down again. The girl had disappeared by the time she reached the booth and she slowly and pointedly sashayed the three little steps up to him.

"I'm back," she announced needlessly. "And just in time to eliminate the competition."

"That girl? I sent her on her way. There's no competition, luv."

"Suck-up," she teased him with a good-natured grin, which he reciprocated.

"Who are those fer?" he asked looking at the two shot glasses curiously.

"You," she smiled a toothy grin at him. "I want you down there on that dance floor with me. It's no fun without you."

"An' ye genuinely tink those will do the trick an' make me tipsy, lass?" he shot her a pointed and very skeptical glance.

"What? Need more than three shots and a beer? Are you a lush or something?" she asked innocently.

His eyes widened a little, but they also had a newly acquired mischievous twinkle to them when he looked at her again. "Careful," he pointed his index finger at her admonishingly. "Jus' fer the record darlin', I happen te be a wee bit taller than ye…" "Oh really?" she mocked. By now he had stood up and she actually had to crane back her neck to look at him, which made her statement extra ironic. "That never occurred to me."

"Yeah, really. So fer future reference, ye need te get me more than those little thimbles of whiskey te get me tipsy. But I'm willin' te accept yer gesture of good will." He grabbed the first shot and downed it. The second met the same fate. He put the glass down on the tray and grinned while she looked at him, her mouth forming a perfect little 'o'.

She did however recover quickly. "OK, so you've had your drink, now come dancing with me!" She put down the tray on the table and wiggled the fingers of her outstretched hand at him invitingly. He eyed it for a second with trepidation, but then he clasped it with a sigh. "I'm so gonna regret that," he mumbled under his breath and a bit louder he added. "I have te warn ye though, I wasn't kiddin' when I said I couldn't dance," he actually looked a little uncomfortable.

"Nonsense! We're not here to do that closing number from _Dirty Dancing_. We're here to have fun, right?"

"Right," he grinned. "But jus' fer the record, I tink I could well manage that liftin' stuff," he just had to point out to her.

"You're aware you just gave away the fact that you've seen _Dirty Dancing_, right? That's not exactly a typically male kind of movie," she threw him a shit-eating grin.

"Me sister was crazy 'bout it. What was I supposed to do? Poke me eyes out an' cover me ears?" he told her.

"You could have left the room," she grinned in response and squeezed his hand before she dragged him after her. For the first time in forever she didn't have trouble making her way through the crowd. Probably thanks to the huge man at her back. They found a spot on the dance floor and started dancing. He wasn't as bad as he had told her. Actually he was doing fine and they had fun. The music was fast and they goofed off making fun of the lyrics whenever they were too cheesy. His facial expressions and movements were sometimes so hilarious she had to laugh so hard her sides ached. Then, at some point, a slower number came on and the crowd on the dance floor thinned. It was one of those numbers that was heavy on the bass and rather hip-hoppy. The couple next to them took it as the cue to start dry humping each other almost immediately and Ally giggled. She inched closer to Steve to nudge her head in their direction, so he would notice them too.

He smiled and pulled her towards him. "I've always wondered how that worked..."

"Do you want to learn?" she asked on a whim, her eyes focused on his lips as he spoke and occasionally revealed a set of white and straight teeth.

"What happens if I say 'yes' now? Would ye smack me over the head?" His eyes looked down at her teasingly. He was practically holding her in his arms. She was pressed up against his chest. The noise level required it. Also it was a good excuse to be close.

"No," she shot him an indulgent smile. "I'd say 'you're on' and teach you the tasteful version of this, instead of that nasty stuff over there. Sounds good?" she answered, raising her left eyebrow.

"I'm in," he grinned at her.

"OK." She laid her hand against his chest and pushed him back a little. They were standing close now, but their bodies weren't touching anymore. She slung her arms around his neck and grabbed his hands and she positioned them on her hips. "Bend your knees a little," she told him and she did the same. "Now you grind forward, I grind back." He looked genuinely perplexed by that information, like he had trouble absorbing it. He even flushed a little. So despite his big mouth he wasn't as self-confident as he let on. It was kind of cute. "Relax," she smiled. "This is the tasteful version, our hips aren't even gonna touch."

"I…" he stammered.

"Come on, Steve. Just do what I do," she started moving her hips in a slow circular motion. "Feel that?" Of course he could feel it. His hands were on her hips after all. "Now you do the same thing, just forward." He hesitated and she found that to be all kinds of endearing. So he was a loud-mouthed joker, who loved teasing, but who also got shy occasionally. It made her feel insanely attracted to him. And maybe that was why the following words left her mouth before she could hold them in: "Steve, really? You can't tell me you're a 36-year-old virgin. You must know how grinding your hip works…" She threw him a lasting look and when he didn't comply immediately, batted her eyes.

He was biting his lower lip for a moment when he hesitantly tried for the first time and that image sent a warm tingle to her stomach, just like the picture of him doing that slow circular movement with his hips. Inevitably she ended up thinking about other activities of the horizontal variety that required synchronized pelvis movements. She suddenly started feeling hot and a little dizzy.

"Wanna try something else?" she suggested abruptly.

"All right."

She slowly peeled his hands away from her hips and turned her back towards him. "Can your little Irish heart handle this?" she smirked at him over her shoulder. Her confidence was a smoke screen. The sight of him had her enthralled and despite the fact that she knew this wouldn't end well, she couldn't stop now. And neither could he.

"Bring it on, lass," he replied cockily.

"Oh, don't you worry. I'll bring it," she grinned and started to sway her hips left and right doing a little dip.

"What am I gonna do?" he asked and she could feel his breath on her neck.

"Try a two-step?" she suggested.

That sounded harmless. In fact she had him lulled into safety there for a couple of moments, so she decided to up the ante a little. So far he hadn't shown any signs of being affected by dancing like this, but she felt them all too clearly. There was for one thing the heat between her thighs and that almost overwhelming urge to kiss him and run her hands over his skin. How could he remain so impassive? So cool and collected when he had her burning up here? This had never happened to her before. So why did it happen now? She wasn't a tramp. She didn't kiss on the first date. Sex was something she postponed until she had dated a guy for at least a month. And yet… And yet she wanted to rip his clothes off.

She took a decision. Instead of continuing what she was doing she chose to slowly gyrate her hips down until she was squatting. She moved up again just as quickly, sticking out her hips and arching her back as she went. It was a suggestive move and even though they weren't touching yet, it had the desired effect, because when she looked back at him his gaze had grown heated.

"Can't handle that?" she grinned.

There was look on his face she couldn't quite define, sort of stern and intense, his eyes narrowed, a crease formed between his brows. Instead of an answer he grabbed her hand and pulled her after him, away from the dance floor.

Her heart was thumbing away inside her chest the whole time and it beat a little faster when he roughly backed her into some dark corner underneath a flight of stairs. She stumbled back in surprise, her eyes wide and her breathing fast, but he wasn't about to explain himself. He pressed her up against the wall with his body and almost immediately started kissing her. She tried to make sense of all those sensory information her body sent her all at once and was overwhelmed for a moment. The smell of his cologne tickled her nostrils and made her stomach tingle pleasantly, one of his hands was in her hair at the base of her neck, the other on her hip, his whiskers brushed over her upper lip and his beard was scruffy, but at the same time the sensation was strangely pleasant. There was that small noise, almost like a little growl, he made in the back of his throat as his lips pressed against hers with urgency. When she opened her mouth to him, it was almost like a reflex, unthinkingly, just pure instinct.

She felt something kindled within her that made her respond to him just as eagerly. It was intense longing. That back there on the dance floor had been just a little appetizer compared to this. It became important to touch him. Her hands slowly travelled down his back as she pulled him into her. They slipped into the back pockets of his jeans. It seemed to provoke him further because he responded by slipping one hand underneath her shirt. His fingers briefly stroked over the skin next to her belly button, his touch uncoordinated. They glided to her side and gently squeezed her flesh. Their mouths separated for a moment. She could feel his warm breath on her moist lips. Their eyes locked. She became aware of how close he was standing to her. His chest was pressed against hers and she could practically feel his heart hammering away against it. She could also feel his arousal through his jeans. It pressed into her, hard and unmistakably and undeniably there.

"I'm not that kind of woman," she blurted out clumsily and it made him chuckle. His flat cap had been pushed back on his head thanks to their kissing and it looked sort of adorable, as did the flush on the bridge of his nose, which wasn't really helping in that situation.

"An' A'm not that sort a fella," he told her softly, his hand stroking her cheek slowly while he still looked into her eyes. They were standing very close. He was leaning into her. Her hands were still in the back pockets of his jeans. She became aware of it and pulled them out as if they had been singed.

"Ye don't need te take them away. Why'd ye do that?"

"I really shouldn't…" she started.

"Don't ye want te or shouldn't ye?"

"Shouldn't," she admitted after she had stared into his blue eyes for a couple of seconds. She hadn't noticed how blue they were before. The more stuff like this she would notice about him, the deeper she would get in trouble.

"Why shouldn't?"

She sighed and looked down. For some reason it didn't feel odd having this conversation pressed up against each other and in lowered voices. She was such a damned hypocrite. She wanted him. "I shouldn't because I don't know enough about you."

"Well, what do ye wanna know?" he asked casually as if they could solve all the problems in the world just like that.

She looked at him and her mouth went dry. It was because the words were already swimming on the forefront of her brain and they somehow seemed too forward. Maybe this hormone induced insanity she was currently prone to was severely affecting her inhibitions, because for some reason she ended up blurting out those words. "Do you sleep around?"

"No." His answer was convincing. He didn't evade her gaze; in fact he looked straight into her eyes. If he was lying now, he had to be a sociopath.

"Do ye?" he fired back unexpectedly and the remark flustered her.

"No!"

He smirked and took a step back, still standing very close to her, his hands left and right of her head. Her eyes inevitably wandered from his face to his chest. The first two buttons of his shirt were open. She could see his collarbone and a teasingly small amount of creamy white skin. Her hands came to rest on his chest. She picked a little at the topmost button of his shirt with the nail of her index finger as she chewed on her bottom lip, trying to make sense of this situation.

"Would it be bad if I kinda wanted to sleep with you?" The words spilled from her mouth very quickly. Those damned hormones had turned her into an insane and slutty, filterless person. Suddenly her brain and her mouth seemed to have become very close friends with a hot wire between each other. She was ashamed of herself and looked down. "Way to go. Go and make some skanky comments self," she muttered under her breath.

"Hey." He tipped up her chin with his index finger and forced her to look at him. He was smiling. Of course he would be. Man liked skanky women, she thought darkly. "It's not too often ye meet a person an' have an instant connection with them."

"No," she replied softly, her eyes on his mouth again. She was already thinking about kissing him again and if that happened she was afraid of what she might do after. It wasn't like this was so uncomplicated. Obviously he was some kind of celebrity. Women probably threw themselves at him left and right. Maybe he travelled a lot. Maybe he would just sleep with her, disappear to the next place on his tour schedule and never call her again after. Right now that was a very real possibility. He didn't even have her number for crying out loud.

Somehow her conscience whispered to her that the smartest thing she could do right now was run, so she came out of her daze, quickly dove underneath his arm and took off. He spent a couple of seconds blinking in surprise before he started chasing after her. "Ally!" he called out, his voice loud enough to be heard over the music of the club. She briefly looked back over her shoulder, but it only made her run faster.

It wasn't easy for Stephen keeping up with her. She was smaller than him and more agile and therefore able to zigzag more quickly through the crowd, so it was only outside the club that he finally caught up with her. His hand closed around her wrist and quite inevitably she swung around towards him. The look on his face was a mixture of anger, disbelief and concern. "What ye think ye doin'?" he inquired with a frown.

Since he had her attention now, he had let go of her hand. "Aaaaah! Come on!" she ran her hand through her hair. That 'come on' was more directed towards the universe in general than at him. Only now it occurred to her that they weren't alone. In fact the two bouncers standing watch outside and some people exiting the club were already looking in their direction and pointing fingers. Ally flushed. She turned around but stopped to look back briefly over her shoulder and indicate Stephen with a nudge of her head to follow her. He fell into step next to her. They walked in silence.

After they had put some distance between the club and themselves, she finally spoke again. Walking had done her some good. She was a lot calmer now, more collected. "Sorry for that little freak-out just there," she told him softly.

"It's all right, jus' tell me what's goin' on," he told her and she could feel his eyes on her face. She stopped walking and turned towards him. He had his hands in his pockets. The look on his face was expectant.

"It's just that I usually don't do this. And that kind of famous stuff isn't so easy to deal with as I initially thought…"

"Carry on," he told her, his face assuming a complete somber expression.

"Well, this might sound weird and borderline psycho after knowing you for what? Like a couple of hours? Hell, I'm going to say it anyway. Talking to you feels great, it's easy. You're fun. And I like being with you…"

"But?"

She sighed. "But…" her eyes strayed to the pavement. Her voice died down. "Erm… In case you're not aware, you're not supposed to tell someone you want to sleep with them on the first date. You're not supposed to even kiss. I have a feeling I'm doing this all wrong. And here we go again," added bitterly. "One more thing to add to the list of stuff I'm doing wrong: crappy female, touchy-feely talk on the sidewalk. Just great! Somebody shoot me, please!"

"Hey," he touched her shoulder and made her look at him.

"What?"

He smiled at her tense tone of voice. "Calm down, will ye? Everythin' is fine. I don't think ye one bit crazy. There is somethin' goin' on between us. An' it's movin' kinda fast, but that doesn't mean I'm not serious about it…"

A moment passed between them. His eyes met hers.

"So come on. I think it's time we've finally did this," he held out his own hand to her wordlessly.

"What?" she asked in surprise.

He arched an eyebrow. "What ye think I want?"

Kiss me? Have sex with me? Hold hands? The list of options was long and embarrassing, so she chose a less embarrassing alternative. "I don't know."

"Pass me yer feckin' mobile already," he wiggled his fingers at her impatiently. She did as she was told, watching him in fascination as he deftly typed away on her phone. When he handed it back, she saw that he filled in his phone number, email address, birthday and address and a little further down under notes he had written: "That fella really likes you." She felt slightly reassured and it made her laugh softly. He took it as an encouragement to pull her close again and lay his arm around her shoulders.

"Come on, give me a call so I have yer number as well," he told her and she complied with a nod.

"What ye wanna do now?" he asked after that was done. "Back te the club?"

"No," her head sank to her chest. "I'm sorry, but kinda wanna go home. I'm tired," she said softly and looked up at him again to see his reaction.

No anger. Just acceptance. "Okay. I'll take ye."

So they hailed themselves a cab and drove over to her place. He told the cab driver to wait while he walked her up to the front step of her house.

"Any chance we might do this again?" she asked sheepishly as she rummaged around in her bag for her keys, trying to prolong their goodbye a little.

"Sure. Only that I'll be outta town fer two an' a half weeks."

She frowned. More than two weeks, huh? That sounded very long. She wasn't sure she could wait that long to see him again. She looked at him, then at the cab in her driveway, then at him again. She gave Steve a little nod, before she reached inside her purse, walked past him, paid the cab drive, sent him off and came back to a completely baffled Irishman waiting at her doorstep. "How am I gonna get back home now?" Without saying a word she unlocked the door and motioned him to follow her. She closed the door behind them. The sight of him standing in her corridor was sort of foreign, but good.

"Maybe I'm a bit dense, but would ye kindly explain what's goin' on right now?"

"You're staying."


	5. Awkwardly Fantastic

**Author's note:** _ A big thank you to UntilNeverDawns, my partner in crime and beta. An equally big thanks goes out to those of you reading, favouriting and following this story. Hearing from you guys means a lot to me and keeps me writing faster. Yes, I'm not yet in the editing phase of this. So hit that review button and let me know what you're thinking. _

_asprankle1: Guessed right there, luv. __Getting steamier still. Hope nobody's wearing glasses. ;-)_

* * *

"I'm stayin'," he repeated. "All right." A nod. He didn't move.

"Do you want to? Stay that is?"

"To do what?"

She shrugged. "Anything."

"Anythin' sounds about all right," he smiled and she let out a relieved breath. It was a small mercy he wasn't pressing her for a less flimsy explanation.

"Would it be okay…" she swallowed, suddenly feeling nervous, "if I kissed you again?"

"I don't know," his eyes sparkled at her teasingly. "Are ye gonna run again right after? Sorry te point it out te ye, luv, but yer kinda outta options. Ah mean yer already home. Where does one run te from there?"

"Nowhere. I'm not gonna run again."

He smiled. "That sounds reassurin'." He had already taken a step towards her.

She just nodded. Her eyes focused on his face and in particular his lips. He leaned down and kissed her. It was brief and innocent and left her disappointed. "No, not like that," she whined, which made him laugh softly. She had no doubt he was playing some sort of mean little game with her, but she had probably deserved that after the little stunt she had pulled back at the club. "Like what?" he actually had the nerve to ask. "You know," she glared at him.

"No idea," his replied, his face perfectly innocent.

"Argh!" she grunted and pulled him down towards her again. He smiled against her lips and even laughed softly when she grabbed the collar of his shirt. "And now you're laughing at me," she whispered, slightly outraged by his behavior. "I'd never," he replied and kissed the corner of her mouth as his arms snuck around her waist. Her hands were resting on his chest and her fingers started playing around with the topmost button of his shirt again. She undid it eventually. He pulled back a little and looked down at her. The tension between them grew. Underneath his gaze she unbuttoned that second button with jittery fingers and slipped her hand into his shirt. His skin felt warm and soft underneath her hand. Not a hint of chest hair.

The way he looked at her now made goose bumps run over her skin, in fact she could see them forming on her own arm. A shudder ran up her spine and she let out a little sigh when his mouth connected with her neck. The caress was somewhere between slightly teasing and sensual. There was a hint of teeth and his tongue briefly lashed out against her skin. He slowly worked his way upwards, his face nuzzling the side of hers as he spoke into her ear. "What do ye really want?"

At this point the answer was simple. "You," she told him.

"Mmmmh-mmmh," he hummed, kissing a spot underneath her ear. Because her senses were heightened and she perceived everything with so much clarity, it felt like that single, innocent kiss burned her skin. Her fingers trembled as they worked at the buttons of his shirt again. She almost had the last one open. There it went. Her hands slipped underneath the fabric of the shirt, tracing over his sides. Not an ounce of fat, only firm muscles underneath warm and smooth skin. She pulled back a little to look at him. He had to be the best-looking guy she had ever had the pleasure of seeing shirtless that up close. Hands down. No discussion. Some of those fancy Greek marble statues standing around in museums were built worse than him.

Instead of saying something appreciative and appropriate like that, her dumb little brain let her say the following words: "You must really hate Tampa…"

His facial expression clearly said 'huh?'

"Sunburns," she clarified, already blushing out of embarrassment.

He laughed, quickly shed the shirt and pulled her close, so she was pressed against his naked chest. "Don't ye worry yer pretty head about that," he grinned. His fingers tracing down her neck to her shoulder. He pulled down her bra strap, before his mouth briefly but memorably closed over the skin it had just vacated.

"I… aaah… I'm sorry," she huffed, unsure whether she was making sense. He clasped her face between his hands.

"Do ye ever shut up? 'Cause now would be a pretty great time fer that, jus' sayin'…"

"Sorry and no," she smiled apologetically. "I think it's like some kind of defect. I babble when I'm nervous."

"How nervous are ye right now?"

"Very… very nervous," her eyes were big and that sort of underlined her statement. He grinned. Her gaze flickered to his shoulder where a reddish scar was standing off against his white skin. She had noticed it before, back at the gym, she remembered.

"What happened there?" she asked, trying to stall him, so she could slowly ease into the situation.

"I got injured last year. Dislocated shoulder."

"Battle scar?"

"Battle scar," he confirmed with a smile.

"You don't seem like anything could ever hurt you," she told him, softly and with a look of awe on her face, as she let her fingers glide down his chest. Her touch was innocent, but it still stirred a feeling of longing inside him.

"Yer very wrong there."

"Only human after all?" she smiled up at him. Her fingers traced over his abdominal muscles.

"Very much so. An' remember," he grinned, "though ye must be very tempted at this point, those are not fer cucumber shredding," he admonished her, his joking voice quivering a little thanks to her touch. Obviously she had no idea what she was doing to him.

She giggled, but the sound died down when he grabbed her hands and held them against his muscular stomach. She looked up at him, her mouth slightly agape. He raised her right hand to his face and gently kissed her pulse point. The gesture made her almost melt into a puddle on the floor. Her face was inches away from his chest and when she lowered her head, her breath fanned against it. She saw him shiver the tiniest bit. He even let go of her hands. She took a step closer, immediately wanting to investigate. She pressed her lips against his skin, there in the center of his chest, right underneath his collarbone. Her lips slowly opened against it, allowing the sensation of hot and moist to briefly filter into his brain before they closed shortly after. She kissed him again and again, while his hands on her back started taking a life of their own. He began tugging her shirt upwards. They separated, so he could fully pull it over her head and toss it aside.

His eyes raked over her figure appreciatively. She was slender and athletic and there was a small tattoo on her beautiful smooth skin, some sort of weird swirly sign that sat right next to her navel. It immediately caught his attention. He traced it with his index finger. "What's that?"

She smiled. "An 'om' sign." He frowned, clearly not able to make much of that explanation. "It's a holy symbol, something you use to invoke the divine."

He smirked. "Like "Oh God"?" She nodded.

"Maybe I can help ye with that later if yer so eager about invokin' the divine."

She gasped a little, but he didn't leave her any time for an outraged comment. "Any other tatts like that?"

"Do you have any?"

"Why don't ye go lookin' fer them?"

"Funny, that's what I wanted to suggest to you as well," she replied.

He nodded and reached out to touch her shoulders. For a moment they shared a look, then he slowly turned her around. Some tendrils of hair had escaped her ponytail and were now hanging over a small tattoo at the base of her neck, obscuring his view on it. He brushed them aside and red the words "dance" and "music" that intertwined to form a small infinity sign. He lowered his lips to her skin and kissed the spot occupied by the tattoo. It made her squirm and he secured her against him by slinging one arm around her waist.

He continued to loosely hold her against him as his fingers trailed over her back and stopped where her bra was hooked together. "I'd better check there too. Who knows what yer hidin' underneath…" He could feel her diaphragm rising and falling against his arm and those intervals had increased since his fingers had come to rest on her bra clasp.

He let go of it for now and leaned forward instead to trail gentle kisses down the side of her neck and along her shoulder. She gasped and her hands grabbed his forearm, while she leaned back against him. He used his free hand to push the bra strap on her other shoulder out of the way. After he had accomplished that, he focused again on the objective of fully getting her out of her bra. He gave the hook side of the bra clasp a gentle tug and it gave away, revealing her smooth skin underneath. She let the bra slide down her arms. It fell to the floor. She could feel his warm breath on the base of her neck. The moment seemed suspended in time. Neither of them moved for a couple of seconds.

His skin brushed over hers as he removed his arm from around her waist, but she could still feel his body warmth radiating into her back. She blindly reached behind herself and took his hand into hers. They were still standing in the hall. Their fingers intertwined. She led him into the living room. There she stopped, but didn't turn towards him.

"Turn around," he said softly.

She complied but crossed her arms over her chest. A look so innocent and vulnerable on her face, it made him smile softly. He took a step towards her. After only a couple of hours that smile of his had become just as familiar to her as the melodious cadence of his Irish accent. He laid his hands on her upper arms. They felt warm against her cool skin. His blue eyes peered down into hers with teasing sparkle. "Where's all yer sass gone all of a sudden?"

"It's a façade," she told him softly. "Deep down I'm not all that sassy."

"What yer like deep down?" he asked, while his hands slowly stroked up and down her upper arms.

"I don't know…"

"So that confidence is jus' an act."

"Hard to tell. I've been faking it for a very long time."

Her response made him smile. "I know a little somethin' 'bout that." Of course he did. Pretending to be overly confident came with his job. There was a trace of melancholia to his smile now. It was endearing him to her and made her want to kiss him, so she stood on her tiptoes and leaned up to press her lips to his. She slowly uncrossed her arms in the process and slung them around him. Both of them sighed as the naked skin of their upper bodies touched fully for the first time. They continued to kiss in a slow, rather languid fashion that made her dizzy in the head. The kiss eventually faded out into smaller kisses. She leaned her forehead against his. "Close your eyes," she told him softly. He complied and for once, thanks to the current mood they were both in, she trusted him to be serious about it and not cheat or sneak a peek. She placed his hands on her shoulders and let go of his wrists. He slowly traced his hands down over her skin. Their touch was fleeting and soft, although they were big, strong, warm and slightly rough. She shuddered when they brushed over the peaks of her breasts and shortly after covered them entirely. His fingers traced along the outer curves of her breats and eventually ended up cupping them, giving them a gentle squeeze. His eyes slowly opened and settled first on her face, then on her chest. They met her gaze with a new fire burning in them. He kissed her again while his hands continued touching her breasts, only now less tentatively. His tongue slipped into her mouth and she welcomed it by caressing it with her own, making a soft humming noise in the back of her throat.

"Bedroom?" he asked breathlessly when he pulled back.

She nodded. She kissed him again and they started stumbling towards that aforementioned room. Her hands were fumbling sort of blindly for the light switch. He was distracting her so much with his kisses that she was unable to find it at first. Grudgingly she had to pull away to find it. The familiar sight of the bedroom registered with her immediately when she switched on the light, as did the fact that she had left some of her tops lying on the bed. With a quick flick of her hand she swept them off the covers and onto the floor. While she had her back turned to him, he took the chance to sneak up on her and push her onto the bed. She landed there with a surprised 'uff' sound that was really adorable. He quickly kicked off his shoes and socks and joined her on the bed. He didn't want to overwhelm her, so he chose to lie down next to her instead of on top of her. She turned towards him, brushing her hair out of her face. It kept falling into her eyes, so he leaned forward and tugged it back with his hand.

"Thank you," she said softly.

He scooted closer to her, which made her automatically lie on her back. "Still nervous?" he asked, now leaning over her with his upper body. He couldn't help the way his eyes always seemed to stray down from her face to the rest of her body, in particular her chest.

"My eyes are up here," she smiled.

"Yes an' they're really beautiful, but so is the rest of ye."

"Nice line. Ever used it before?"

He frowned. She was sort of prickly, but it was probably the nerves. "Sorry," she mumbled again. Definitely the nerves. He decided not to give her a hard time. "Sssh, tryin' te think here…" She made a face. "Naaah, can't seem te remember havin' used that particular line before," he grinned at her. She looked uncomfortable, despite his attempt at humor. "Are ye sure ye really want te do this?"

She hesitated for a second, but then nodded.

So maybe she just needed some kind of reassurance. He could give her reassurance. "I don't use any lines. An' I'm not lookin' fer a quick shag. I really genuinely like ye."

"What if I told you we had to stop now? Would you be able to?" she asked.

"Hmmm, let's see." He tipped his index finger against his scruffy chin. "Well," he shrugged, "then I guess we'd stop," he answered very simply.

"And you wouldn't think of me as a frigid cow and never call again?"

He actually started laughing at her question. In fact he laughed so hard he fell back on the mattress. "Hey! That's not funny," she told him sternly as she leaned over him.

"No, definitely funny," he huffed, wiping the corners of his eyes as he suppressed another chuckle. "I can safely say that I've never worked quite so hard te get anyone's phone number before, luv. An' jus' fer the record, I would have even jumped through a bleedin' burnin' hoop te get it."

"Worked hard? At what point of this was there any hard work involved for you?!"

"Dancin', Wal-Mart's, photo booth? Ring a bell?"

"Oh. Okay."

"Oh. Okay," he repeated mockingly.

"Is it normal that I want to smack you over the head and kiss you simultaneously?" she wondered out loud.

"Yup, that's the old Oirish charm," he winked at her. "How 'bout it? A kiss would be nice 'bout now…"

She extended her hand as if to smack him, but he caught it and pulled her halfway on top of him. Their eyes met and then his lips were on hers. The kiss started out sweet, but grew more heated; his hands started roaming over her back. She swung her leg over his hips and straddled him. A mistake. She could feel his erection pressing against her through his trousers and instinctively she rolled her hips against him. Their lips briefly separated, long enough for her to hear the deep and utterly male sound he made to express his appreciation. She sat up and her hands instantly flew to his belt. She tried to undo it, although her hands were clumsy and jittery. Just when she had managed, he gently pushed her hands out of the way and reached for the front of her jeans as well. He struggled to undo the top button. They were sort of difficult to open. She always had trouble with them as well, but she put up with that minor inconvenience because it was her favorite pair of jeans.

"Fort Knox," he muttered, a little disgruntledly as the first button finally sprung open. "Jeans with a bleedin' built in chastity belt…" he was already working at the second button with a look of concentration on his face that made her laugh.

"Yeah, sometimes you have to work for the things you want."

"No, kiddin'," a devious grin flitted over his face. "Hey, here's a thought. I could jus' rip 'em of, if ye don't mind."

"You'd better not. It's my favorite pair."

"Jaysus, well, at least they're finally open now," he grinned at her proudly. "Now be a luv an' finally take those bleedin' things off."

She nodded and quickly got up to pull her jeans down. Her hands momentarily stopped at their waistband. She tried to remember what kind of panties she was wearing tonight. She had not counted on stripping down in front of him. Not at all. A mistake as it turned out. She had wanted to be comfortable, but look good, so she had chosen to wear only stuff she really liked for her date with him. The same was true for her underwear. She grimaced when she finally pulled down those pants and stepped out of them, waiting for the inevitable mockery to ensue.

"I heart cupcakes," he read the backside of her panties out loud. The entire black fabric was covered in pictures of tiny grinning, pink cartoon cupcakes. The amusement in his voice was unmistakable and so very clearly to discern. She turned towards him and allowed him to take in the rest of her panties in all their black and pink glory.

He could have given her a hard time, but instead he just laughed. "Ye know what? I sorta love cupcakes as well. An' cake. Gets me in all sorts a trouble…"

"Really?" she asked, using the moment to adjust her ponytail. Unconsciously she stretched her body as she tied back her hair again and he let his eyes run over her curves appreciatively. Her eyes grew huge as he swept his legs over the side of the bed and got up to take of his jeans as well. She watched him, her arms hanging limply at her sides and her mouth slightly agape, admittedly not the most intelligent expression in the world. But that was her genuine response to his muscular legs and the tight pair of black boxer briefs hugging his body. Her eyes remained on his crotch area for a couple of seconds. There was a lengthy outline visible there that had roused her interest in particular.

Clearly she had been spent too long ogling him because suddenly he was standing right in front of her. She hadn't even noticed him move. "Eyes up here," he told her with a grin as he tipped up her head with his index finger. "Don't ye know it's rude starin' at a guys crotch?"

"Why?" Thanks to her nerves her big mouth struck again. "Afraid of shrinkage? Or is it true what they say about the Irish curse?"

"Blast ye to hell!" he told her with a grin and kissed her again. He used her distraction to quickly spin the both of them around, so he was facing with his back to the bed. She let out a small yelp of surprise when he let himself fall back on the mattress taking her with him. The bed frame groaned underneath their combined weight.

"Geez, how much do you weigh?" she looked at him with wide eyes for a second, not daring to move out of fear the bed would collapse underneath them.

"How much do ye weigh?" he shot back and this time she smacked him over the head for real.

"What?" he rubbed the back of his head dramatically. "It was a perfectly legit question, all things considered…" He actually pouted, his bottom lip protruding, which made her lean forward to capture it between her teeth and teasingly bite into it a little. She slowly pulled back. "What ye tink yer doin' there, lass?" he playfully growled at her.

"Getting you in the mood I hope…" she said cautiously.

"Gettin' me in the mood," he muttered, pretending to be disgruntled. He flipped her over and she giggled. Some of her hair fell out of her ponytail and the pastel pink tresses framed her face beautifully as she lay there on the pillows. "Yer a little pixie," he told her, one of his hands cupping her cheek.

"What's a pixie?"

"Like a fairy, only smaller an' more mischievous. Jus' like ye."

"Hmmm, you really think that of me?" she said looking up at him innocently.

"Yup, pretty much sums up what I tink 'bout ye," he replied, his eyes sparkling in merriment.

"All right, maybe you're right," she replied and let her hands glide down his back, without much pretext they dove underneath the waistband of his underwear and came to cup his butt. It felt firm and muscular underneath her hands, just like the rest of him. She squeezed once for good measure.

"Oh!" he laughed, "I think I am most definitely right 'bout that." He bent down to kiss her again, trailing down from her mouth, to her neck and finally her chest. What his lips, teeth and tongue did there soon had her squirming against him. It was almost torture, actually just a fraction away from being proper and actual torture. Her hands were racking through his hair and she felt so over-stimulated, she was unsure whether she should pull him closer or push him back at some point. She let out a tiny mewl as he briefly sucked at her sensitive skin and let his teeth graze over it. The sound made him pull back slowly. His eyes fell on her face. Her lips were slightly parted. Her eyes were closed. The sight in front of him made all sorts of irrational feelings bubble up in side of him: possessiveness, tenderness, longing, desire…

He laid his palm on her chest for a moment. Against it he could feel her heart hammering away. He slowly traced his hand down towards her navel. Her eyes opened. It stopped at the waistband of her panties. He looked at her.

"Are ye ready te do this?" he asked her one last time. The fact that he actually took a moment of time to ask her what she wanted and didn't just go ahead, confirmed to her that yes, she did want to do this with him. She nodded.

"Do ye…erm have…"

"Condoms?" she cut in.

"Plural?" he raised his eyebrows. "I wasn't aware ye were that demandin', but sure condoms. All right."

She threw him a look and smacked his hand away from the elastic of her panties, so she could quickly sweep her legs over the edge of the bed. "Stay!" she admonished him with her index finger raised in the air before she turned around and padded towards the adjoining bathroom. Of course he wasn't going to obey like a little puppy. Quite predictably he trailed after her and watched her leaning against the doorframe with a grin as she rummaged clumsily through her bathroom cabinet in search of the aforementioned condoms. She actually knocked over several objects in it, before she finally produced them. She was just about to turn around and brandish the little tinfoil wrapper in his face triumphantly, but it never got to that. He advanced on her quickly and didn't leave her any time to react. Standing behind her, he covered her breasts with his big, strong hands and kissed down her shoulder. At this point all she could do was hold on to the basin in front of her to keep herself from sinking to the ground. She saw her own face contort in pleasure when she caught sight of herself in the bathroom mirror. He was currently kissing down her vertebrae and eventually came to kneel behind her. She felt his lips on the backside of her upper thigh, his fingers hooked into the waistband of her underwear. He stopped kissing her and pulled down her panties. It had been obvious that that would happen, but it still surprised her. What also surprised her was that he was so gentle about it. He helped her out of her panties one leg at a time, his hands a soft, but firm touch on her ankles. When he was done, he got up and turned her around towards him.

She was still holding that condom wrapper between her fingers. He smiled and slowly pulled it from her grasp with his teeth, before he bent down a little and picked her up bridal style.

"Watch out for those doorframes," she said in a small voice, which made him grin and wink at her.

Bang! Promptly her head knocked into the doorframe. She let out a howl of pain, even though it hadn't been that painful. She had only grazed the doorframe, but she wanted to see how he would react. He set her down immediately and inspected her head. "I'm so sorry. Ye all right, luv?" His fingers gently combed through her hair and that preoccupied look on his face was just too cute.

"I'm fine," she smiled and rubbed the back of her head a little for show. "Carry me over to the bed, okay?"

"Okay."

He put her down on the bed, this time much more carefully and leaned over her to kiss her gently and thoroughly. She could tell by the way he acted that this was getting serious now. Eventually he pulled back and the anticipation of what was to come made her heart beat faster.

"Yer one step ahead of me," he said softly, referring to the fact that she was completely naked. "Don't ye tink I should draw even?"

Her hand came to cup his scruffy cheek. "Yes, definitely."

"All right then," he said and pressed a little peck to her nose before he got up and took of his boxer briefs. He didn't make a big production out of it. He just took them of and got back on the bed to lie down next to her.

She turned towards him and slowly let her eyes travel over his body. His skin was dusted with freckles and here or there she saw small and very faint scars. She noticed that although he was sporting a beard, the rest of him was clean-shaven. She blushed a little as her gaze briefly rested on his crotch for a couple of seconds. "So you shave everywhere," she concluded.

He actually laughed at her clumsy comment. "That's what ye gotta say right now? Seriously?"

"I…" she started.

"Nah," he admonished her.

"No talking?" she frowned.

"Not right now. Take a break."

He curled his index finger at her and she moved closer, but apparently not close enough. With a slightly annoyed huff he pulled her towards him. Their bodies were touching in several places. It was subtle, but let her heart rate speed up nevertheless. She briefly closed her eyes, enjoying that particular feeling. It was nice, reassuring and comforting, but at the same time terribly exciting.

She didn't want to kiss him yet, because it would set things in motion immediately. She rubbed her nose against his a little, nuzzling his face. He let it happen and allowed her that small moment of reprieve. That was at least until his hand that had rested on her hip until now slowly started moving to the place between her thighs. She gasped as it found its destination and he slowly and carefully started to explore. Her eyes fell open and looked straight into his. He was watching her intently as if he wanted to catalogue every miniscule reaction on her face, every flutter of her eyelids and every exhale. If he continued doing what he was doing down there with his fingers, soon they wouldn't even need those condoms any more. It would be over before it had even started.

She needed to show him what that it meant being teased like that. Her own fingers reached out, but trembled a little. They closed around him. She could conclude from the expression on his face that was right in front of her that he enjoyed her touch very much. His eyebrows drew together, he inhaled sharply and his following exhale turned particularly shuddery when she moved her hand up and down and squeezed.

"We can't… do this fer very long," he told her softly, struggling a little with words.

"No kidding," she replied, her own voice sounding breathy.

He let go of her and she let her hand sink down to the mattress as well. He impatiently tore at the condom wrapper, resorting to using his teeth to successfully open it after a few failed attempts.

A couple of seconds later he was on top of her, kissing her. He reached his hand down between them, while he propped himself up on his other arm. "I'm gonna be careful," he told her, trying to reassure her one last time.

"OK," she said.

He entered her slowly and for several seconds her body couldn't decide on whether to feel pleasure or pain. He stilled for a moment, giving her time to adjust to him before he continued. Both of them were breathing hard now. She could feel her own heart hammering away inside her ribcage. This was awkward, beautiful, strange and yet somehow fantastic. He looked down at her. His hand cupped her cheek and he kissed her lips slowly and reverently.

"Me beautiful little pixie. Don't be afraid."

"I'm not."

"Good. Got no reason te. I'm gonna take good care of ye."

He slowly moved his hips, just once and experimentally and it made her gasp. "I'm gonna start movin' now, okay?"

"Yes," she sighed.

He reached for her hands and intertwined them tightly with his. His pelvis was slowly grinding into hers. She tried to match his rhythm and managed to after a few seconds. He was gentle, but there was an underlying intensity to his movements too. They were slow, but purposeful. Yes, that was probably the right word for it. He buried himself deeply inside her and made her shudder at the end of each thrust.

Maybe it was the way she responded to him, but soon she felt him pick up the pace. One of his hands found its way underneath the hollow of her right leg and pushed it back a little, deepening their contact.

She moaned loudly at the end of each of his next couple of thrusts. She could feel pleasure building up inside her, but right before it peaked he stopped for a few seconds. He was breathing hard, just like her. "What… Why are you stopping?" she managed to get out, sounding almost a little irritated with him.

"I want more. This… feels so good," he told her, breathless.

"I know. Feels good for me too," she replied with a smile, which broke when he nodded and moved just a tiny bit. A look of bliss swept over her features.

"Just go on," she begged him. "Don't stop."

"Don't," she breathed and somehow he must have gotten what she had wanted to say there because he didn't hold back any longer. She tried to meet him halfway of each thrust, trying to increase the friction. The pace was picking up again. He held on tighter to her. He groaned. His left leg twitched abruptly to the side. She could tell he wouldn't last very much longer and God, she could relate. She was very much ready for an invocation of the divine now he had teased her with earlier.

She had tried to hold back, just like him, but couldn't any longer. She was bursting with sensory information, overflowing with them. Her whole body felt warm and tingly. There was a sound in the back of her throat waiting to be released, but for now she was still hanging on and holding it in. His muscles tensed. She heard him moan and the scales tipped to one side. Her control shattered, she came undone and pressed up into him. She sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth. That sound she had held back finally spilled from her lips. "Aaaah! Oh God! I…." She pressed her eyes shut and her toes curled up. It was like a firework: muscles convulsing rhythmically, bliss and then finally peace.

He had by now stopped moving above her, their bodies still connected in the most intimate way possible. Both of them were breathing hard and slightly sweaty, but despite that one of his hands was stroking her head softly and the other was cradling her against him.

"Ye all right? Still everythin' in one piece?" he eventually asked.

"Sorry… erm… What… What was that?" she looked at him drowsily, blinking her eyes several times.

"Ye okay?" he asked again, throwing a little grin in the mix now.

"Yes… yes, I think I am. What about you?"

"Never better," he smiled and softly kissed her cheek. Again she felt the slight tickle of his whiskers against her skin. "I'm gonna move now, ok?"

"Ok," she replied and let him do his thing. She let herself fall on the mattress and started up at the ceiling. She felt exhausted, but not tired. A small smile delineated on her features. The realization of what had just happened slowly started to dawn on her. They had just slept together and it had been great. She heard the flushing of the toilet, followed by the sound of running water. Shortly after the mattress dipped a little under his weight.

"What yer doin'?" he asked as he lied down next to her.

"Staring at the ceiling and thinking," she turned her head to look at him. His hair was mussed, he looked relaxed and content. She reached for his hand, her fingers playfully stroking over its back for a while before they entwined with his.

"Good thoughts?"

"Yes."

"It felt right, didn't it?" he asked her kissing the back of her hand.

"Yes," she smiled back.

* * *

It was the first time in forever she struggled with putting a smile on her face. After her Zumba class it quickly faded despite the endorphins in her system. He hadn't called. It had been 17 days and he hadn't called her! After the first week she had still been able to mentally justify his failure to call her in some way. Those excuses she had invented were pretty bizarre, but they helped her come to terms with the situation of being rejected by a guy she had an enormous infatuation with.

Excuse no.1: The WWE had sent him on a promo tour to a remote place like the Andes or Tibet, where his phone was useless and he was cut off from civilization in general.

Excuse no.2: Quite unexpectedly a meteor had fallen from the heavens and hit him, resulting in his untimely demise. She was heartbroken, but could forgive him for not calling. (Admittedly a very gruesome explanation, but as her anger increased towards the end of the week, she was willing to believe even that.)

Excuse no.3: He had been abducted by aliens, depending on her mood those aliens were either cute and cuddly like ET or they came right out of Riddley Scott movie.

Excuse no.4: Unbeknown to her, the zombie apocalypse had already started and he was currently holed up somewhere battling the walking dead and too busy to call her.

Oh, what a load of crap! She was no longer in the mood to think of cute and complication explanations. Maybe his reason for not calling was very simple. Maybe he just wasn't that into her. Maybe it had just been a one-night-stand.

She had even gone online searching for explanations. In hindsight she regretted that decision. When he had told her that he was 'kind of famous', she had thought that his particular brand of famous limited to a certain niche, a group of people, but it turned out that when she typed his ring name into the Amazon search engine, she could buy just about anything with his face or his name on it: bed spreads, wristbands, towels, shirts… How did that make her feel? Insecure, like an insignificant afterthought, like he hadn't been serious about them to start with.

With a deep sigh she came out of her reverie, started packing up her gym bag, shouldered it and trudged past the reception desk of the gym, hanging her head. She muttered a greeting when she past the desk. A new face was sitting behind it. Jolene, the girl who usually did that job had had to rush to the hospital last week. Her water had broken in the middle of her last shift. A new baby! Yay! Happiness, balloon animals and smiley faces all around, Ally thought sarcastically.

She dragged herself home, feeling mentally and bodily exhausted. Why couldn't she stop being hung up on that guy? True, she had had a fantastic time with him and after that marathon date with him she had thought they had hit it off, but apparently the key word was "thought" here. It had been in her head. She would need to learn to distinguish what was in her head and what was real more clearly in the future. With those rather depressing thoughts in mind, she padded towards the bedroom.


	6. Obstacle Course

**Author's note**: _Hey, you guys! Thank you for your kind words, especially IMjustROBIN, kristal farrelly and asprankle1. A special thanks to UntilNeverDawns, my beta, who bravely battles my grammar and spelling mistakes on a weekly basis. _

_Remember to hit the review button on your way out. It would mean a lot to me..._

* * *

The ringtone of her cell phone stopped her in her tracks. The cheerful, upbeat tunes of _I Want You Back_ by the Jackson Five blared from the speakers and only now the deep irony of her song choice, given her present situation, occurred to her. Determined to make the song stop playing, she quickly accepted the call without looking at the screen. A voice with a heavy Hispanic accent was on the other line, about to give her some very unexpected, but good news.

Little did Ally know that apart from her present caller, Steve had in the meantime also moved heaven and earth to get in touch with her. Despite this being the 21st century, it turned out to be surprisingly difficult to do that. After Claudio had broken his phone, Stephen had quickly gotten himself a sheet of paper and started writing down all the information he had on Ally. Paying attention to her on their date now paid off. What he knew about her boiled down to the following things: he knew the name of the gym she worked for. He went there regularly when he was home. So that wasn't difficult. He knew her full name: Allegra Sophie Harrison. He knew more or less where she lived. Not her precise address, mind you, but he could at least narrow down the area.

When he hit the Internet and went searching for her there, he didn't find a Facebook profile under her name, so she probably wasn't using her real name on there, he concluded. He tried twitter and tumblr next, which pretty much provided him with the same result. So all he could do at that point was call her work and leave a message there. The next morning he did just that. He had already gotten himself a new phone, so he was able to call the guys over at the gym and leave a message. Of course that new phone was courtesy of Claudio. It only seemed right that he should pay for it, because the Swiss denso had destroyed his previous one thinking it was a mock-up. After a couple of rings a girl picked up the phone. She rattled off her telephonic greeting and ended it with the words: "This is Jolene speaking. How may I help you?" He told her about the situation, trying his best to be polite and charming, but somehow the receptionist seemed distracted. It let him fear for her ability to pass his number down to Ally. He tried to make that Jolene person understand that this was important, in fact of utmost importance. Actually he said it several times. It was all he could do at this point. That and pray.

When she hadn't called at the end of those two weeks, he realized that his message hadn't been passed on and that he needed to go and hunt Ally down in person first thing when he arrived back home in Tampa. It was easy to find out about her class schedule. It was online after all. He was aware that turning up there without phoning beforehand, which he would have very much liked to have done, thank you, was probably not the smartest idea, but he had no alternatives. Marching in there, knowing he would cause a scene wasn't a good feeling, but he had to do it. He had to explain to her what had happened and that if it had been up to him, he would have called her twice daily. He had been thinking about her constantly after all.

After he had mentally talked himself out of getting her a cheesy bouquet of red roses, he drove up to the gym right after he had gotten home from the airport, showered and put on some presentable clothes, a simple dark blue dress shirt with rolled back sleeves, a vest and some faded jeans. He marched past the reception with a grim and determined face, brandishing his membership card at the guy behind it. After having taken a few more steps, he actually froze in his tracks and turned back around.

"Sorry, but does someone called Jolene work here?" he asked coming to stand in front of the reception desk.

The guy behind the reception slowly looked up at him. His slightly vacant and slack facial expression didn't let Steve assume he was of the intellectual sort. "Jolene? Jolene's just had her baby last week…"

That single sentence was enough to clear some things up for Steve. "Of course," he just said, torn between grimly nodding his head and wanting to start laughing. In the end he chose to just shove his hands in his pockets instead and turn on his heels. He walked towards the inner sanctum of the gym where the cardio bikes, the weights and Ally's classroom were situated. It was where he had first met her. He glanced in through the see-through wall, his heart in his throat, hoping to see her there, but no such luck. Even though she was scheduled for a yoga class today, the woman in there, currently showing her students how to do all those pretzel-like acts of weird yoga-mat-acrobatics, was not Ally. Not unless she had aged rapidly and changed ethnicity. It was an African American woman in her late-forties. Steve sent an incredulous glance skyward. The ceiling of the gym was really quite hideous and factory-like. He brushed that thought aside and shook his head. Another bump in the road, another obstacle he had to overcome.

He turned around and walked back to the reception desk, trying to curb the feeling of impatience and agitation he felt. It was no use screaming at that apathetic, young man behind it. It wouldn't get him one step closer to finding Ally. He laid his hands on the polished surface of the desk. The man raised his eyes and looked at him. "Hey, back again," Steve said, willing his fingers to not start drumming on the desk, "Any chance ye might be able te tell me why Ally isn't teachin' her class today?"

"You're a friend of hers?" the man/boy narrowed his eyes in suspicion. He was in his early twenties and obviously subbing for Jolene. He didn't seem nearly smiley and wordy enough to be doing that reception job for a longer period of time.

"Yes," Steve nodded. "So are ye gonna help me, mate? I was wonderin' whether ye could give me her number…"

"Sorry, no can do," reception boy told him. He was chewing a gum in a rather obnoxious, cow-like, open-mouthed way. "If you're a friend of hers like you said, shouldn't you have her number?"

"I had, but… erm… There was an accident at work. My mobile, ugh, cell got ruined, so I couldn't…"

"I saw," the gum chewing, apathetic individual behind the desk interrupted him.

"Ye saw? Yer into wrestlin'?" Steve asked, a small flame of hope kindled within him all of a sudden.

"Yup, but I'm on team Cesaro," reception boy told him now smiling for the first time since they had made each other's acquaintance and at that rather sadistically. "They should have let him win that US Championship. He's the best." That Steve's alter ego Sheamus wasn't suited as a titleholder and not worth the dirt under Cesaro's fingernails was pretty much implied at that point and by the way the young man said that last sentence.

Steve very much wanted to say "feck" right now and slam his fist on the desk in front of him, but he held himself back. Being rude wasn't an option right now, at least not in his situation. Under normal circumstances he would have walked away now, but he couldn't. Hopefully he would manage to keep his temper in check. "He's good, I give ye that," Steve said, holding up his hands in a mitigating gesture. "But I'm not here te discuss wrestlin', I need te get in touch with Ally."

"Sorry, but you can't have her number," the whelp shook his head and crossed his thin arms over his chest. Steve could have snapped them like twigs, but however obnoxious the guy was, he never would have, it just wasn't his style, instead he took a deep breath through his nostrils and slapped his hands on the surface of the desk before he pushed himself back off it. "Okay… Okay…" He took a step back and raised his hands, then left the gym. He started pacing in front of the entrance. A couple of seconds later he stopped walking back and forth abruptly. Something had occurred to him. He whipped out his mobile and pressed a couple of buttons on the touch screen. "Hey, Claudio!" he grinned as he said those words. "Yeah, it's me. Remember how ye still owe me fer breakin' that mobile?"

So a couple of minutes later a rather disgruntled looking Swiss wrestler arrived. He marched towards Steve with a grim expression on his face. Instead of a greeting he said the following words: "Where is he?" His accent was now slightly thicker, probably because of his irritation over Steve ordering him here on his day off and thanks to a lack of caffeine. The Irishman pointed at the door of the gym and together they entered again.

Reception boy saw them approach together and started gaping in surprise when he first laid his eyes on Claudio aka Cesaro. For a moment there Steve was actually worried he would lose his gum. "That him?" Claudio muttered to Steve as they got closer to the desk. "Yup," Steve replied. "Now do what I asked ye."

What Steve had asked Claudio to do was turn up at the gym and talk the guy behind the reception into giving him Ally's number or any other information that might help Steve track her down. Now one might say and that justly so, that Steve should have been able to figure out her address on his own. But unfortunately it wasn't listed online and Steve had paid more attention to her during the cab ride to her place than to his surroundings and the same was true for the ride back home on the next morning. He had spent it texting her instead of watching out of the window.

After ten minutes Claudio had miraculously convinced the guy to give him Ally's address and cell number and Steve was starting to consider forgiving him for that stupid stunt with his mobile back at work. "Thanks," he grinned and ripped the piece of paper from Claudio's fingers impatiently, already reaching for his cell phone.

"You're welcome," his fellow European intoned, almost sounding a little like Sandow when he pronounced those words with a heavy additional dose of annoyance. "I hope you find her." This time the statement was annoyance free and genuine. It made Steve stop for a second.

"So do I, mate," he said shortly before he dialed her number and pressed his cellphone to his ear impatiently.

"Feck!"

"What?"

"She's turned it off. It goes straight to voicemail."

"I'm sorry," Claudio told him and slapped him on the shoulder. They had just travelled across the country once more, so the Swiss didn't manage to suppress a yawn of exhaustion shortly after. "Verdammt! I'm tired. I need to get back home to Sara. Do you still need me, man?"

"I think I'll manage," Steve said with a grim expression on his face.

"So what are you going to do?" Both men had exited the gym by now. Steve stared ahead at his car for a second before he looked at Claudio again.

"I tink I'm gonna head over te her place."

"And what are you going to do there?"

Steve shrugged his shoulders. "Hope she's home…"

"What if she is and she doesn't want to talk to you?"

Steve thought for moment, and then hung his head. "I'll call it quits?"

"But not just yet. Man soll den Tag nicht vor dem Abend loben."

"What was that? Ye do remember I don't speak any German, do ye?" Steve said and slapped his friend on the shoulder. "Yer really tired, huh? Get yer arse home, Claudio."

As if to confirm his words Claudio yawned again. "I was saying how you shouldn't give up yet. And how come you're still awake and making plans? By all rights you should be tired too. We have the same schedule."

"Superior Irish genes," Steve grinned smugly.

"Überlegene irische Gene? Am Arsch," Claudio grinned back no less smugly and even despite his lacking German skills Steve got that that was an insult. "Just try not to wrap your car around a street post. I still need to kick your butt on the next gig, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, now go home te yer Sara," Steve shooed the Swiss away and walked over to his car.

Once inside the car Steve quickly punched Ally's address into the route guidance system. The friendly female voice told him that the car ride there would take less than ten minutes, so that was a plus. As predicted he arrived at her place a couple of minutes later. On his way there he had mentally run through a list of reasons why she hadn't done her class over at the gym. Maybe she was sick, maybe something had come up. Maybe, maybe, maybe. All those maybes were still rattling around his brain when he put his car into park in front of her house. Her car wasn't there and all the lights were off. He tried to give her another call. Voicemail. Feck! This time he did say it out loud.

He got out of the car. Walked up the three steps to the front porch and the door. He rang the bell. No reply. The house remained dark. He was conflicted. Stay or go? Stay or go? Stay or go? He stepped from one foot to the other. Feck! Again he said it out loud. He'd stay. He turned around and leaned back against the front door of her house. He lightly banged the back of his head against it once before he let himself slid to the ground along it, stretching out his long legs in front of him with a groan as he prepared himself for an uncomfortable and long wait. The neighborhood was very quiet. The breeze was playing with the treetops and their leaves made a soft rustling noise. Rustling… gently swaying… back and forth… sleep.

When something nudged against his foot, his head shot up and he flinched. He blinked a couple of times. He had fallen asleep with his contacts in. Unpleasant. The figure bent above him came slowly into focus. Pastel pink hair. It was Ally. He had found her. Finally! He smiled, but that smile wasn't reciprocated, instead she stared down at him. At least she wasn't screaming. He slowly tried to get to his feet, suppressing the groan when the muscles in his lower back protested against the movement because of him leaning against a hard wooden door for a long time. Old man noises weren't something attractive.

"What are you doing here?" her voice sounded neutral, but he wasn't deceived so easily. She was hiding her anger. Her eyes were narrowed and there was a fire in them that just didn't match the neutral tone of that simple question.

"Waitin' fer ye te come home. I wanted te talk te ye. I also tried callin', but ye wouldn't answer."

"You called?" she frowned. "That was you? There were a couple of missed calls from an unknown number. Why do you have an unknown number and what the hell are you doing here?"

"As I said, I was lookin' fer ye."

"Well, you are roughly two weeks too late for that."

"Too late?" his face fell.

"Yes, too late as in I don't care anymore," she told him calmly and tried to make a smooth exit by reaching for her keys and unlocking her door. Only that the hand that was holding the keys was shaking.

"Do I scare ye?" he asked worriedly.

"No, you don't scare me." She stepped back from the door again, squaring her shoulders as if to emphasize that particular statement.

"Why was your number unknown? I thought I had it in here?" she held up her cell phone in front of his face as if to make a point.

"A colleague of mine smashed me old mobile at work. He thought it was one of those mock-ups we usually use in promos... That's the reason I couldn't a called ye, though I very much wanted te."

"Okay," she said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, her gaze never lingering for too long on him. It always shifted here and there. Actually her whole behavior broadcast the impression that she was deeply uncomfortable, like she didn't know how to the deal with the situation.

"My cell was turned off because I've just had an important business meeting..."

"A meetin'? At erm..." He looked at his wristwatch. Unlike most people today, he liked to wear one. His affinity to smartphones ended at a certain point and he was more and more beginning to see that how was reasonable attitude, especially considering the happenings of last week. "At 10 pm? Isn't that a little late fer business meetings?"

"I had to drive all the way over to Miami," she pointed out. "And why do I even have to justify myself in front of you? It's none of your goddamn business."

Her voice sounded harsh. Generally a frown or an angry facial expression would be suitable to accompany words like that. What he saw looking at her face however was insecurity. She was biting her bottom lip. Her eyes were directed on the floor and her shoes, like she was afraid she'd betray herself with a single glance. "Look," she sighed. "Can't you just leave?"

He shook his head. No, he couldn't. "I've been tryin' te get in touch with ye fer almost two weeks. So no I can't..."

"What do you want?" she said in a small voice.

"I wanted te see ye."

"Ok, now that you did..." She stepped aside and indicated the steps that let down the porch and away from the house.

"Is that what ye really want?" He asked, automatically standing a little more upright, his hands curled into fists at his sides, with his fingernails digging into his palms.

"What else is there to say?" she asked him helplessly, looking at him with sad eyes. The way she acted at present was so vastly different from how he had gotten to know her that it felt like he was talking to a different person. Even the way she looked seemed different. Her pastel pink hair was slicked back into a ponytail, she was wearing workout clothes, but not brightly colored ones, instead they were mainly gray and black. The outfit could have come across fierce and edgy, but paired with her defeated and sad facial expression it looked like she was in mourning.

"A lot if ye'd hear me out," he said, placing his hand gently on her shoulder. She looked at it, taking in his thumb that was tracing over the soft fabric of her zipped up sweater. Her eyes finally wandered up his arm to his face. His gaze was soft and sincere. Her shoulders slumped in defeat.

"So talk then, but don't feed me any crap. I'm too tired for any bullshit..."

"All right. Let's keep this simple an' get te the gist of things then..." He paused. His eyes flitted over her face. He retracted his hand, suddenly becoming aware of how he had let it linger for too long on her shoulder. It betrayed him. He wanted to touch her some more and not just her shoulder. He wanted to hold her in his arms again, bury his nose in her hair, coax out another one of those dazzling smiles of hers and perhaps even hear that laughter of hers that touched a place deep inside of him. But before any of that could happen, if it would at all, he needed to tell her why he was here. "I tink I'm in love with ye," he told her sincerely.

His words had an effect on her, but not the one he had hoped for. She gasped and took a step back. "Oh," she said and it sounded surprised and a little sad. Her facial expression changed. Her brows furrowed. "Fuck!" She kicked at the flowerpot next to the door once. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" she swore, every word accompanied by a kick. After the last one she grimaced and started hopping around on one foot. "Ouch!" "Are ye okay?" he asked frowning in concern.

"I'm… Just don't… Okay? Leave me be…"

"I can't," he approached her gingerly, again unable to keep himself from reaching out to her. Her eyes met his for a moment. He thought he could see fear in her eyes and dejection. Seconds passed. Neither of them moved until she surprised him by wrapping her arms around his broad, muscular frame very tightly. He made a little 'uff' noise. Her face was pressed into his shirt and his hands awkwardly patted her back that moved up and down with heavy inhales and exhales. "Don't you ever do that to me again. I thought I'd never see you again!" she spoke into his chest.

He didn't know what was going on. One minute she was sending him away, the next she was hugging him like a lifeline. But however confusing the situation was, he felt a need to comfort her. "I won't," he tried to reassure her. "It's all goin' te turn out okay. Ye'll see." Some cynics would say that was an age-old lie, but it was really how he saw things. No trouble was so great it couldn't be overcome and if it couldn't be overcome right now, there had to be some lesson to learn, something to take away from that moment of misery.

"Okay?!" she pulled away and threw him a scandalized look. Her hair was slightly mussed and her eyes looked a little watery. "Okay?" she repeated again. "I've just signed up for a job that's gonna take me halfway across the country, partly because I thought I'd never see you again. I'll be on the road all the time, which means it will be difficult to get a hold of me. So I made this even more difficult. I fucked this up just like I fuck everything else up. This is completely on me." Again with the swearing. Her frustration quickly turned into anger. "Why the hell couldn't I just have waited one more day?" She was actually pulling a little at her hair now.

"What job?" He asked in confusion. There were actually several things to be confused about concerning this situation. Firstly it was still uncertain how she would actually in all honesty reacted to his confession of having serious romantic feelings for her (LOVE?) once her anger had simmered down. And secondly what was she even talking about?

"I signed up to become a ZES." There was a look of confusion on his face. "One of those guys who travel around the country and educate future Zumba instructors?"

"Isn't that like a huge step up fer ye?" The word "up" put an emphasis on how cute his Irish accent actually was, without him being any the wiser about it and it painfully tugged at her heartstring.

"Yeah, but that means we won't see a lot of each other, which really totally sucks in my book..."

"Hmmm," that humming noise was all he uttered, as he stared down at her expectantly.

"I shouldn't have done this. Gosh!" She massaged her temples. "Why did I have to go and fuck this up? It could have been so easy. I just could have turned down this stupid job offer and done my yoga class like I was supposed to, but no I had to get into my freaking car and sign that freaking contract straight away. Great work! Fantastic job, Allegra! Argh!"

He sighed. That wasn't at all how he had imagined this situation, but then again when do situations ever turn out the way you imagined them. "Why don't we step inside fer a second?" he suggested.

"Yeah, you're right. We should," she answered distractedly, "Great idea." She still held the keys to her frontdoor in her hand. He wordlessly took them from her and unlocked the door. His hands that were significantly less jittery than hers, managed that job almost immediately.

"You know I'm sorry, I'm really, really sorry," she apologized when she stepped into the house after him, running her hands through her ponytail and messing it up. "This is all my fault." Somehow she seemed to be stuck on that thought. She had been ever since he had confessed his feelings to her, which was slightly unnerving, so he chose to do something about it.

He more or less pushed her into the living room, his hand applying a steady, but gentle pressure to the small of her back. "Be quiet. Sit. And get yer mobile out," he instructed and she complied without questioning those orders, probably because she was still too thunderstruck. They had not talked about anything concerning their relationship yet, but maybe they had to do something else, more practical before they could.


	7. Working Out The Kinks

**Author's note**: _Thank you UntilNeverDawns. Yup, I'm the worst kind of tease. I'm afraid I've got some bad news: I've actually pulled the same stunt twice in one day. _

* * *

"Do ye know yer schedule fer the next couple a weeks?" he asked calmly and she nodded. "Gimme yer mobile." She complied and he typed something into the touchscreen before he held it out to her again. "I need ye te confirm this with yer password... I'm downloadin' an app fer ye." He nudged the phone in her direction once. She quickly took it from him and typed in her password. "There," she handed it back.

"What are you doing?" she asked curiously. He was holding his phone in his right hand and hers in the left, looking back and forth between both devices as he used them alternately.

"Synchronizin' our schedules," he told her before he handed her back her phone. "The green stuff are me appointments." True to his words, her electronic agenda was now littered with green fields. "Raw tapings, Smackdown, PR..." her eyes quickly flitted over the screen. He was a very well organized, busy man.

"Now ye type in yer stuff," he told her and she nodded and pulled her actual real life paper agenda from her handbag on the floor. It was a pink book, covered in stickers from all kinds of places. He smiled. It was typically her. "Got any beer?"

"Yeah, fridge," she replied distractedly, already typing away on her phone. With that he was off. Once inside the kitchen, he quickly found what he was looking for. He got a second bottle as well while he was at it. "Bottle opener?" he called out.

"Second drawer on the right!"

Several seconds later he strolled back into the living room, sipping on his beer and holding the other bottle out to her. She accepted it with a demure smile and placed her phone on the coffee table. "Done!" she said.

"Let's have a look then," he said, picking up his own phone again. A look on the display confirmed she had filled in her complete schedule for the next two months, which now also showed on his mobile. He held the phone closer to his face and frowned. It looked like they both had three free weekends together and they'd both be in the L.A. area at the beginning of October. "Doesn't look that bad," he commented eventually. "Actually this looks feasible. What do ye think?"

Actually he'd been wondering that for the last half an hour. She let out a long drawn sigh and massaged her temples. "Yes... uhm-mh."

"So what is it? Ye can see that our schedules are compatible. Now it's up te the both of us…" He narrowed his eyes and put down his phone on the coffee table. "That is, if that's what ye want. If that isn't the case, jus' let me know an' I'll be out of yer hair real quick."

His last couple of words made her look at him, really look at him for a change and for the first time tonight she touched him deliberately and not just on a whim or accidentally. "No! Please..." Her hand was resting on his forearm. She had scooted closer to him on the couch. Her fingertips were digging into the soft material of his shirt, underneath them, somewhere remotely she felt his body warmth. Her fingers moved again as if she wanted to adjust her touch. Their eyes connected and for a brief moment he saw the urgency of what she couldn't express with words in her eyes.

"What am I supposed te do with ye, luv?" he asked helplessly, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. He felt her arms snake around his torso as well, one went around his back, and the other came to rest on his chest. She buried her nose in his shirt. He felt her hot exhales against the thin fabric and the rise and fall of her shoulders. He closed the distance between them and pressed a kiss to her temple.

"Just don't let go of me," she said and her voice was soft.

"Now why would I do that? I've only jus' found ye again," he said.

She shrugged. "I don't know..."

"That's right. Ye don't know how much I tried te get in touch. How much I've thought of ye since I left…" He combed her hair aside and looked down at her. "Have ye at least missed me a little, too?"

She let out a little huff. Her bottom lip trembled for just a second and her eyes turned watery, but she wouldn't allow herself to cry. She screwed her eyes shut for a moment, a look of concentration on her features.

"I take that as a yes then. I'm sorry, luv."

"Oh, shut up," she said softly while her voice was vibrating with suppressed emotions apparent in every word she uttered. Without her added sass she was soft and vulnerable and strangely that made him feel protective of her, as if her behavior had triggered an age-old male instinct. He wrapped his arms a little more tightly around her. Her response was a sigh.

"Yer cute," he said with a smile on his face and stroked her hair, running his fingers through it, his milk white skin setting off dramatically against the fading pink. For a moment he allowed himself to marvel over the softness of her hair and how he seemed to be able to run his fingers through it so smoothly. Then her face was hovering in front of his.

"I'm not cute," she told him wrinkling her nose in distaste, only confirming further what he had just said. His fingertips brushed over her cheek and disappeared in her hair. Their faces were moving closer. He smiled when he pressed his mouth against hers. Her lips left fleeting, soft caresses in their wake that made him hum in quiet approval. After a while, but still all too soon, she pulled back and rested her forehead against his.

"This is ridiculous," she proclaimed after a few moments had passed in silence. That particular declaration was made with a certain amount of incredulousness rather than reproach, so he wasn't offended. Actually there was a mirthful sparkle in his eyes when they met hers. Luckily, unlike earlier, her gaze didn't hold that dull, dejected look anymore. There was something like a spark again. A spark he definitely wished to rekindle further.

"What is?" he asked.

"It's ridiculous... how much I'm into you," she murmured while she was running her fingers through his beard. She frowned. "Have you been growing your beard out?" He smiled and she instantly felt butterflies in her stomach.

"Ye like it?"

"Not exactly. Looks sort of fuzzy and unkempt."

"Hey!" he laughed. "Watch yer mouth, girlie. Yer not back in me good graces yet."

"Oh, I bet I already am," she grinned smugly. "And threats, Steve? Really? You should know better. They don't work on me. You should definitely consider shaving though. That beard looks like I could get tangled up in it any minute now. Probably not gonna be the next Gillette spokesperson, huh?"

"Ally…" He actually chuckled at her comment. It was a small smidgeon of normalcy. At least what he had come to define as their normalcy judging by how they had previously interacted with each other. They were back to teasing each other, which was a good sign.

"Steve, you're simply…. Argh!" she said in exasperation, slapping her hands against his pecs lightly. She glared at him instead of clarifying how that sentence was going to end.

"I'm…?" he grinned and laid his hands on top of hers, so they stayed on his chest.

"I don't know," she was looking at him suspiciously, with her eyes narrowed. "How come things always feel so damn right with you, huh?" Her words were subtly laced with frustration and distrust, because fighting her attraction for him meant fighting a losing battle and that frustrated her. Her last question was almost a challenge, a final act of defiance. She looked up at him, her fingers flexing underneath his palms digging a little into the material of his shirt.

"Ye make that sound like it's some kind a crime," he replied.

"It's not," she sighed. "It just confuses me… Wait," she momentarily closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip, "Doesn't confuse me… It's more like it has me worried. Like I can't trust myself around you. Because around you I always say what I'm thinking. It's like you make that filter between my brain and my mouth go away. Poof! Gone! Just like that. It's crazy and a little disconcerting. Actually more than a little."

"Why'd ye think it's disconcertin'?"

"Because it feels like I've known you for ages and I can tell you anything, but in really we've only met like what? 4 times? It's not supposed to be like that. I don't even know if I can trust you. I don't even know you…" He narrowed his eyes. "Well, I know you a little," she amended, "but a little is not enough. Doesn't fit with the feelings I have. They are not little."

"Ally," he smiled at her good-naturedly and shook his head.

"What?"

"Yer really cute tryin' te come up with yer own definition fer heart over head here," he told her gently and pinched her cheek a little. It caused her to make a face, which only lasted for roughly two seconds before she swatted his hand away and smiled.

"Shut up," she told him. In her voice he could hear she was disgruntled, but also amused.

"I tend te not do that on me own."

"So you need help with that, huh?" she asked him, poking her index finger into his chest. It didn't give too much, because it wasn't all that soft. _Damn that little cheat for being all muscular and stuff_. He nodded, unaware of her thoughts.

"I don't have anything to use as a makeshift gag, I'm afraid. Maybe some Band-aids would do the trick, but I guess your mouth is way too big for that…"

She let out a little adorable squeal when he pulled her close and pressed his mouth to hers in a silencing kiss. His lips slanted over hers slowly but surely, as his tongue slid past her lips and made her fingers fist in the front of his shirt. She was out of breath when she pulled back and looking at him with a mixture of reproach and amusement. At any rate that particular facial expression spurred him on. There was a suspicious little twinkle in his eyes.

She caught it and immediately decided to investigate. "OK, spill! What are you up to know?" she asked him.

"Oh, ye know. Nothin' too bad really. But it would help if ye could take this off," his fingers moved to the zipper of her hoodie that was demurely pulled up all the way to her neck and she made a face.

"You don't want to do that..."

"Naw. Actually I do want te." His hands were already fingering the neckline of her sweater.

"No, really... Steve!" she gently slapped his rather insistent hands away, laughing softly. "You don't want to unzip this sweater. I'm stinky and gross. They had me do a master class with them and then I had to perform six of my own choreos. And by the end of that I was sweating like a pig and I haven't had the chance to shower yet."

"I don't mind. Ye still smell nice." He actually pressed his nose into her sweater and inhaled, which made her squeal and giggle and jump up from the couch. "Ewww you're such a total maniac! And you're gross!" suddenly the smile on her face disappeared and was replaced by a pained expression. "Ouch!"

"Ouch?" he frowned in concern.

"My knees hurt," she told him, bending at the middle and rubbing her knee caps. "Maybe I exaggerated a little this afternoon. I guess that's what you get when you try to impress people by jumping around like crazy."

"So ye shouldn't be walkin'," he concluded and approached her.

"Huh? What?"

Before she could even formulate a proper question in her head, he had swept her up in his arms bridal style.

"You really think that's a good idea? Last time we did that you knocked my head into a doorframe," she told him, eyebrows arched sceptically. "Not sure this brain can suffer any more damage. I'm already loony bin material with the way things are..."

"Come on, have a little trust, will ye. I was jus' gonna carry ye over te the bathroom an' run ye a nice, hot bath, darlin'."

"Any chance you'll be getting into that tub with me?" she asked him innocently as she ran her index finger over the topmost button of his shirt and leaned her head against his chest, shooting him a coy look from under her lashes.

"Depends," he winked at her. "Is there enough room for ye an' me an' a bit a water?"

"Hmmmmm, I don't know…"

"What's that supposed te mean?"

He started walking, this time being extra careful where he went. Every time they would come near a doorframe he'll eye it suspiciously and tread a little more carefully.

"You've been in my bathroom before. I'm surprised you don't remember the tub."

"I wasn't payin' a lot of attention te the tub last time."

"True," she smiled fondly at that particular memory. Her smile faded when they came to stand in front of the aforementioned tub, which was rather small and seemed just big enough for her.

"Well, will ye look at that? It's a miniature tub. What do ye bathe in here? Yer pinkie or somethin'? I could probably dip me little toe in it, but that would be 'bout it," he joked.

"You're exaggerating."

"I'm Irish. Comes with the genes…" he smirked.

"Yeah, sure. Now shut up and lemme down," she told him softly and he complied, wearing something close to a pout on his face. Apparently the idea of getting into the tub with her had appealed to him, which was kind of cute really. Actually it had appealed to her as well.

"So you really wanted to get in there with me…" she said pensively.

"Yeah, but that doesn't matter now, does it?"

"Well, actually it does. Have I ever mentioned how I have a rather big hot tub out back?" she grinned at him slyly.

"Ye have a hot tub out back?" he repeated with a surprised, but delighted expression on his face.

"That's what I said, wasn't it?" she winked at him. "So how about you get it working while I take a quick shower and then I join you?"

"All right," he conceded easily and was off after he had pressed a quick kiss to her cheek.

Ally spent the time she showered contemplating what to do next. She hadn't seen Steve in over two weeks. Their relationship was still very new and tentative. There were still in the process of figuring out if and how things would work out between them, yet the both of them were too tenacious and stubborn to let go of each other. There was more they needed to figure out, more they needed to talk about, so instead of doing something aggressive like going out there naked, she decided to pop back into her bedroom and put on a bikini and a robe before she walked out to the tub.

She pushed the glass door open that divided the house from the back porch and found Steve bent over the tub inside which the warm water was already bubbling. Warm mist was cascading down from the edges of the tub. There a soft rushing noise when he ran his fingers through the water. His features were bathed in a bluish light from the tub. He was standing with his back to her, still completely dressed, though his sleeves were rolled further up now, probably in order to not get them wet.

Something must have given her away, perhaps the noise of the sliding door or the soft plodding of her bare feet on the wooden boards of the porch, at any rate he turned around now and saw her standing there in her robe.

He leaned back against the tub, his arms crossed over his chest. "What ye wearin' there?"

She looked down at herself with a grin. "You don't know what this is? Don't they have these over in Oirland?" She mockingly tugged at the material of her robe for second there. "It's called a robe, you know. People wear it to cover up."

"Oh, really? What a practical invention," he grinned and grabbed the two ends of the terry cloth belt with which she had tied the robe closed to pull her slowly towards him. "An' what would ye be tryin' te cover up, huh?" With a cheeky grin he slowly untied the belt and uncovered her body. She was still a little wet from the shower, so she sucked in a breath when the cool night air hit her naked skin, well, the part of it that wasn't covered by a bikini.

His eyes racked over her figure and took in her halter bikini top that was covered in grey and pink stripes and decorated with tiny cartoon skulls on the left breast. His eyes lit up and his face assumed a mischievous look. "Gorgeous," he grinned as he gently pulled the robe from her shoulders. He put it on one of the chairs out on the porch. She didn't wait what he would do next and simply climbed into the tub. It was too cold to be standing around guessing somebody's next move. It was already October after all.

She let out a content groan as she lowered herself into the warm water. Her knees were acting up again and she could feel some of the pain lessening immediately thanks to the warmth. Her head instinctively fell back over the edge and she closed her eyes for a moment.

"So am I supposed te stand there an' watch ye or do ye actually want me te get in there with ye?" his voice made her open her eyes again and look at him. He was still fully dressed, standing in front of the tub, his hands in his pockets.

"The original idea was for you to get in. But if you get your kicks out of watching women soak in hot tubs…"

"Only if they're naked. But maybe ye get yer kicks out watchin' poor Irish fellas suffer because of the cricks in their necks they got from sleepin' on yer doorstep," he shot back, actually wincing as he rubbed his neck to make a point.

She moved across the tub so she was closer to him, her forearms now on the edge and her chin propped up on them. Instinctively he moved closer. Her hands pulled him to her and she pressed a couple of soft kisses to his lips. The sound of their mouths caressing each other mingled with the rushing and gurgling of the water for a while. "Well, what are you waiting for? Get in then…" she finally said.

He nodded and sat down on the chair with her robe to take of his shoes and socks. She smiled as she saw his feet. His toes were kind of cute, all straight and very white like the rest of his skin. But then her eyes focused on his hands that slowly undid the buttons of his shirt and tugged it out of his trousers. She was unconsciously biting her bottom lip as she watched him unbutton his fly and slide out of his jeans. He left his black boxer briefs on. With a nudge of his eyes he told her to move aside as he climbed into the tub. He slowly lowered himself into the water next to her and just like her before let out a content sigh.

"Aaaaah, that's more like it!"

Sitting next to each other like that could have turned into something awkward, but thanks to the grin he flashed her, it didn't. There was something about him that just made her feel at ease instantly. Passing time with him was comfortable and uncomplicated, because with him she didn't have to work hard to keep the conversation going or to get from one moment to the next without feeling embarrassed.

It was okay to sit next to him with a quiet smile on her lips. It was okay to giggle softly when he looked at her. So in conclusion she also thought it would be okay if she gently pushed him a little forward so she could slip behind him. He refused to lean back into her at first, protesting that he would smother her, but she wouldn't have any of it and just pulled him back gently against her chest inch by inch until he was comfortably settled against it. Almost automatically he sank a little further down and her arms wrapped around his shoulders. Their voices were lower now when they spoke, just loud enough to be heard over the bubbling of the water.

"Jaysus, I didn't know what I've been missin' all along. This is jus' too good," he spoke as her hands gently smoothed along his shoulders and over his arms.

"Gets better," she whispered in his ear. True to her words, her thumbs started massaging his shoulders. His muscles were tense underneath her touch and he let out an approving groan when she applied a little more pressure. His head slightly lolled forward and he made a humming noise.

Her legs were left and right of his thighs and underneath the water his hands held onto them, squeezing them softly each time she massaged away one of his tense spots. "Keep this up an' I'll have te bring ye along on tour. Ye an' yer tub…" he murmured languidly.

"Promises, promises," she whispered in his ear and continued kneading his shoulders.

"A little harder," he groaned, when she traced down one particular tense spot and hesitated to apply more pressure because she was afraid she'd hurt him.

"Yeah, right there. That's it…"

"That good? Do I have to get you a cigarette for after?"

His responding groan made her suck in a breath and bite her bottom lip. His hands squeezed her knees again and traced up over her thighs. Now it was her turn to make an appreciative humming noise.

He noticed. "That feel good?"

"Yeah," she replied softly. She had taken to tracing her hands softly over his shoulders now. She had almost no strength in her fingers left after giving him a ten-minute backrub. But she didn't have to. Apparently it was her turn now. He was rubbing her knees gently under water and eventually tugged them up so he could work on her calves as well. It felt good. Like he knew what he was doing.

"Where'd you learn that?" she asked softly. Her eyes were closed now and her head tilted back. She was enjoying the moment.

"I'm a professional athlete…" he replied simply as if that was explanation enough.

"And a masseuse?" she teased him.

He laughed softly. "I wanted te spare ye the decidedly unattractive part where I talk about me joints gettin' achy once a month an' I need te treat meself te a massage te function properly again."

She opened her eyes again, taking a minute to process the information she had just received. Ever since she had made his acquaintance she had become strangely fascinated with his world. It had started out quite harmlessly with reading the entry about wrestling on Wikipedia and ended with her watching _The Wrestler_ and crying on her couch. Was he anything like that character in the movie? The adrenaline junkie that couldn't live without being beaten up in the ring and experiencing the thrill of a live audience? She was hell-bent to find out.

"What is your job like?" she asked.

"Where'd that question come from suddenly…"

"Just answer, ok?" she said giving him a slight nudge.

"The best an' the werst," he replied, which was far too enigmatic for her taste.

"What about is so good?" she asked.

"The places I get te see. The people I get te meet. The adrenaline. The crowd. The good things ye get te do fer other people…"

"And what's the stuff that bothers you?"

"I don't know…" he looked unsure, like he wasn't able to properly put his thoughts into words. "Sometimes it feels empty, ye know." He shrugged.

The tone of his voice was so different now – so very serious. It made her want to look him in the face, so without paying mind to stupid things like being graceful and seductive she swiftly climbed out from behind him and positioned herself in front of him. "Empty?" her hand was on his cheek now. He was looking down on the water surface that was tumultuous and constantly moving and made everything underneath look hazy.

Her thumb stroked over his cheekbone. It was strange. There he was a big muscular, mountain of a man, but now he looked so very forlorn, lonely and lost. In this very moment she just wanted to hug him. Also she felt worried for him. The range of emotions he invoked in her was disconcerting, yet at the same time she was enthralled by that experience.

He blew out a breath and slowly raised his eyes to hers. "I'm not sure I should tell ye..."

"Bottling it up is not a good idea," she told him softly. She ran her hands along his shoulders. They were firm and smooth underneath her palms and slick from the water. Tracing her palms over them was the equivalent of sending them on a miniature rollercoaster ride along the ascent and decline of his muscles. "Also, I think you wouldn't have brought it up if somewhere deep down you didn't want to talk about it..."

"Careful what ye wish fer. It's decidedly not first date material, not even second or third…"

"Like we ever cared about that," she smiled at him good-naturedly. He struggled to reciprocate that smile. His quickly disappeared again and a left a more serious expression on his face.

"Is it scary?" she felt compelled to ask because of that.

"It's not that scary. Plain normal actually. But I guess plain normal is scary nowadays. I jus'… hell, I jus' want fer someone te be there. Maybe start a family someday. Jaysus, luv," he chuckled a bit out of embarrassement and ran his hands over his face, "ye shouldn't a have me talkin' about that. I'm sorry. Yer probably already tinkin' about ways te get me out of yer hair, 'cause this talk has gotten way too personal too soon."

He looked at her questioningly and his eyes seemed to implore her to say something. As she got lost in his blue eyes, she was beginning to suspect that he was much different than he appeared at first glance. Instead of scaring her, it intrigued her. He was an agglomeration of dichotomies, he was contrasts and contradictions blending together and she liked it, perhaps more than liked it. He was strong and soft and funny and melancholic and probably so many other things she had yet to find out about him. And she wanted to. She was downright curious for him, because he had struck a cord inside her that had been ringing ever since she first laid eyes on him. Like a vibrating guitar string that just wouldn't fade out.

Instead of answering him verbally she surged forward with determination and kissed him, knowing that she'd seal her fate with that kiss because it wasn't just a kiss. It was a conscious decision to take this on, to jump on the ride and see where things with him would lead.

Her lips pressed against his and she could feel the soft, fuzzy hair of his beard against her chin. His arms wound around her midriff and he pulled her firmly into him, which made her sigh against his lips and also smile. He didn't deepen the kiss it was just one firm press of mouth against mouth, but still it meant something.

She slowly pulled back studying his face as his hands slowly brushed the wet tendrils of her hair out of her face that struck to her cheek and forehead. Automatically she slightly tipped back her head and felt his nose touch her throat and then his lips kiss it softly, almost reverently. Something melted within her and when she lowered her head again to look at him, she was filled with affection to the point of almost bursting with it. The feeling was so ridiculously intense it made her laugh. "Aaargh!" she grabbed his face between her already pruning palms. "Just what the hell am I supposed to do with you, huh?! You keep looking at me like this I'll have to adopt you like a little stray Irish puppy because you're so goddamn cute."

"So, what? Do I all of a sudden invoke some kind of motherly feelings in ye? That it?" he regarding her through narrowed eyes, his chin raised, because in order to meet her gaze he had to look up, she was now straddling his lap, without lowering her hips to his. Her wet body had broken the surface of the water and tiny rivulets were running down its curves while her warmed up skin steamed in the cold night air.

"Motherly feelings?" she chuckled and threw back her head. "That would be gross. Mothers are not supposed to feel like that towards there sons…"

"Feel like what?"

"Hmmm... I don't know. All warm and fuzzy and like I want to have sex with you in a hot tub."

* * *

**Feel free to vent your frustration. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Now hit the review button and let me know what an awful human being I am.**

_nattiebroskette: Thank you. You're such a luv for leaving all those reviews. I really, really do appreciate it._

_shellylu21: I'll try to keep those updates coming every week. Also I'm currently writing more, because I have trouble letting go. As always. This was supposed to be short and sweet, but I already have Sheamus withdrawal symptoms._

_Hey, you, guest reviewers. You're awesome. Apparently I already know some of you, which is cool. Welcome back. I would thank you personally, but since you weren't logged in that's kind of difficult. I agree Cesaro is pretty fantastic. How come there is so little fic about him? _


	8. Make Time

**Author's note: **_Sorry for the delay. Life and stuff got in the way. Hope you had a great Thanksgiving._

_Thank you to the awesome UntilNeverDawns._

* * *

For a moment he just stared at her before he unexpectedly pulled her down on his lap. The gesture was energetic and determined and wasn't in the slightest hesitant. "Oh. Hello!" she said, her eyes slightly widening as she felt a hard bulge pressing up against the centre of her bikini bottoms.

"Oh, hello indeed," he grinned and kissed her, his fingers already pulling at the knot of her bikini halter top, situated at the back of her neck. It turned out that blindly trying to open that knot was quite complicated. In part his enthusiasm and impatience were probably to blame for him not getting the job done as quickly as he would have liked. He broke the kiss to swear quite impressively. Luckily for him, thanks to his accent, it sounded infinitely more charming than those filthy words had any right too. She laughed at him, squeezing his biceps.

"Trouble?" She inquired as her face hovered in front of his, her arms now stretched out over his shoulders languidly and her forehead pressed against his. Her lips were an enticing dark red from the pressure applied to them earlier.

"Wouldn't be callin' it trouble so much as a minor setback," he smirked, his fingers gliding up her sides, tugging impatiently at the string that tied her bikini to her upper body and pushing it up. She gasped as he pulled it over her head and the bikini top landed on the porch with a wet splat.

"You…" her eyes sparkled dangerously at him and he remained unimpressed, pulling her down to steal a short but intense kiss from her lips.

"What?" he challenged.

She laid her palms against his chest. "I thought you were a sweet guy. Considerate and…aaaah." The rest of the sentence dissolved into a sigh. His mouth was on her breast now. It opened slowly over the skin and she shuddered. His tongue briefly surged forward. It felt hot against her skin. The pressure of his lips grew a little more assertive and firmer. He sucked at her skin and she couldn't fight down the impulse to draw him closer, especially when his teeth grazed over her sensitive skin. She could feel the caress all the way to her toes and the roots of her hair.

"So this isn't considerate?" he asked her and instead of waiting for her reply he lavished his attention on her other breast. Did he really expect her to answer now? It seemed likely because he had just posed her a question. _Sadist! Cheat!_ She tried to conjure the remaining smidgens of her coherence to string together a sentence.

"It…is…" her fingers were digging into his hair now, kneading it and occasionally tugging at it. "Very considerate."

"But?" he asked, his breath fanning against the sensitive skin he had just kissed.

"You're trying to torture me," she concluded pulling his head back a little by running her hand through the hair and latching onto it gently. He was grinning, full of mischief and mirth. "Stop torturing me," she admonished him, growling playfully as she lowered her forehead to his.

"Why? Seems like yer talkin' yerself out of somethin' ye've clearly been enjoyin'."

"I wanted to seduce YOU," she said, almost pouting.

His eyes studied her face for a second before he pointedly moved his hands away from her body. They had been resting on her sides, just underneath the curve of her breasts. Now he positioned them on the edge of the tub, spreading out his arms, as if to underline his following words. "All right then. Seduce away. I'm all yers."

"Yeah. No pressure at all," she muttered, slightly disgruntled.

"Naw, I just expect ye te knocked me off me socks," he winked at her.

"I'll try to keep that in mind," she blew out a breath and leaned forward. The mirthful sparkle in his eyes dimmed a little. The closer she got to him, the fainter it grew and what remained was a soft affectionate gaze that caressed her features. She rubbed her cheek against his and took a deep breath. His hands were resting on her sides now. He wasn't able to remain as passive as he had made her believe to begin with. His hands rose together with her ribcage. Droplets of water ran down her back. His skin felt warm against her own. She turned her head to press her nose into it and smell him. Apart from a faint smell of chlorine, there still was a trace of that scent she had come to associate with him. Clean, masculine, earthy. She pressed a kiss to the point right in front of his ear and traced lower from there, over the side of his neck, to his right shoulder. She playfully bit him there where his neck met his shoulder. Her hands were on his chest and she felt him inhale abruptly. His reaction made her grow bolder. She sucked at his skin and let her teeth slightly graze over it. Not enough to mark him, but enough to make him feel it. He seemed to enjoy that because she thought she heard him gasp there for a second. At any rate she had managed to make his breath become irregular in some way.

A sort of huffy laughter broke out of him. Perhaps he was embarrassed that he had reacted so sensitively to her kiss or he was simply amused. At any rate he tried to downplay that little gasp with a joke. "What are ye? Some sorta pink-haired vampire?"

She pulled back and gave him a stern look. "Now look who's the vampire between the two of us," she pointedly held her arm next to his much paler one.

"Point taken," he admitted somewhat begrudgingly and sort tensed up when she unexpectedly pressed her hips against his. His eyes widened and flashed at her briefly with a wild look. She smiled at him, feeling the electricity and empowerment of anticipation run through her thanks to the way he stared at her. She slowly rolled her hips against his with her eyes fixed on his face. A shudder ran through her body thanks to that slow torturous move and she saw his body quiver as well. It was barely perceivable, just the slightest tremor, but it was underlined by his mouth falling open and the deep shuddering breath he drew. His hands clutched at her, greedily pulling her closer. Her head was swimming by then.

All she knew was that she wanted to try that one more time and see if he would react the same way again. There was something about the way he looked at her. That moment when his eyes widened and bored into her with so much intensity as if he wanted to eat her alive. So she repeated the motion and found that she couldn't contain herself. She moved the tiniest bit upward at the end rubbing her upper body against his. The move made both of them sigh. When she slowly slid down against his body, his arms wrapped around her tightly. Both their breaths had become laboured and as if oxygen wasn't already enough of an issue he pulled her down for a kiss. His lips pressed desperately against hers. There was no gentle reserve, no holding back. His tongue coaxed hers into action, first gently and then when there was no more coaxing required the kiss increased in intensity. His fingers dug a little into her hips, her hands pulled a little at his hair. They separated, chests heaving, an euphoria coursing through their veins and dulling their senses like alcohol.

She just wanted him. That was all she knew, so feeling oddly brazen all of a sudden, she took a step back, positioned her hands on her hipbones and pushed down her bikini bottoms. They landed on the porch seconds later, his eyes following their flight with a grin.

Of course he wouldn't allow her to upstage him. He didn't need an invitation to take of his briefs and also fling them over the edge of the tub. He curled his index finger at her, smiling a devilish little smile at her that made her skin prickle.

"What are you up to?" she breathed, knowing full well there was no way in hell she could resist him, although she was usually so good at self-discipline. _You've got to train, stop being lazy, get yourself together and smile _always worked so well. Resisting him? That didn't work so well.

"Jus' come here already. I'm dyin' over here not bein' able te touch ye," his voice was smooth and imploring and very compelling. She already took a step closer to him, lured in by everything about him. The look on his face, the slight flush of his cheeks, the way he was so worked up and his eyes seemed too impossible blue all of a sudden. When she was close enough, he grabbed her and pulled her in for a long, passionate, open-mouthed kiss, his hand fisting in her long wet hair as he teased her tongue with his.

"I need te feel ye," he told her in a lowered voice, that was all raw and filled with need when she pulled back after the kiss had ended. Her hand was on his chest and underneath it she could feel his heartbeat, strong, regular and temperamental. Her blood was pulsing through her veins. Warmth was pooling between her thighs. Her head was swimming.

"Me too," she told him, feeling silly for letting those words pass her lips. They were so clichéd, but then again they were true.

"Come closer," he told her, his blue eyes positively electrifying thanks to the intensity in them and the bluish light cast on them by the underwater lighting of the tub.

She couldn't move an inch, she was too caught up in his gaze, so he backed her against the opposite wall of the tub. His hands gently lifted her up and set her down on the perch there as he slowly spread her legs and stood between them. His breath was a series of hot puffs of air that brushed her face. His forehead slowly came to rest against hers.

"Protection?" she whispered to him questioningly. Not able to get anymore than this out at the point. He comically screwed his eyes shut.

"Shite!" he muttered. "Does that even work under water?"

"Not sure," she smiled. "I've never tried…"

"One of us will have te get out of the tub," he concluded. Her eyes settled on him and she laughed. "Which is going te be me…" He concluded thanks to her pointed look.

"Got that right," she grinned.

With a sigh he climbed out of the tub and made a hissing noise as the cold night air hit his heated up skin. She couldn't help but stare at his backside appreciatively as he rummaged in his discarded jeans for a condom. There was something to be said about the way his pale skin glistened in the dim light like he was oiled up.

He whipped around, the condom wrapper in his hand, when he heard the rushing of water. She had gotten out of the tub too, unable to wait any longer. Not touching him felt like dying, hence she decided to remedy that intolerable feeling. The rather cool night air that breezed over her naked skin made her cuss and ruined any attempt of sneaking up on him. She had barely taken a few steps when he pulled her against him. He was warm and wet, muscular and utterly male, which was incredibly enticing, but the cool air was starting to feel unpleasant.

"Let's get in," she suggested. He nodded enthusiastically.

They were barely through the sliding door, when they landed on her couch. Neither of them wasted a thought on whether their wet bodies would leave damp spots on the sofa or not. He had his hands all over her and made her squirm and writhe beneath him. It was pleasure mixed with frustration. She wanted him and couldn't wait for very much longer.

"Put it on," she whispered to him in between heated kisses. "Come on, hurry up!"

He complied, fumbling around with the condom for a couple of seconds. He wore a surprised look on his face when barely after he had finished she pulled him back onto the sofa and climbed on top of him. "Very assertive," he whistled through his teeth and grinned teasingly, having quickly reclaimed his composure.

"Smartass," she told him, silencing him with another kiss.

His hands eagerly guided her hips down to his. She gasped as she slowly sank down into him inch by inch. A couple of moments passed in which both of them only focused on the sensation of their joined bodies. She had her eyes closed trying to figure out the right moment to start moving. It would come when the initial discomfort would have faded out.

His hands squeezed her thighs. She opened her eyes and looked at him underneath her, his breathing fast but steady, his eyes so very blue, his pale skin slowly blushing and his wet hair sticking out in all directions. His body was still wet, but nevertheless warm. She ran her hands over it. He captured her wrists and pulled her forward to kiss her. It was a slow and deep kiss, meant to reassure her and set her at ease. It was enough to get her to slowly and experimentally move her hips against his, while she bit her bottom lip.

A wave of bliss slowly ran through her and she drew a shuddering breath. She had her eyes closed, concentrating, focusing, as she felt his fingers softly squeeze hers. She opened her eyes and looked down at him again. His teeth were tugging at his bottom lip; his eyes were a little wider now. When she grinded her hips against his once more, his eyes fell shut. The expression on his face was blissful and she felt the impulse to kiss him and so she did. Leaning forward, her whole body was pressed up against his and his arms wrapped around her instantly while his lips kissed hers hungrily over and over again. She pulled back just a fraction, just enough to look at him. Her eyes opened and bore straight into his. They were cobalt blue in the twilight of the room, those pupils dark and almost extinguishing that blue of his irises. She moved again. A moan burst out of her. He pressed his mouth to her neck and bit it gently. Consequently the movements of her hips became more jerky and insistent. His hands held onto her hips and tried to pull her further into him. By now she was out of breath and it felt like she was also out of her mind.

She had become solely focused on what her body told her and what it demanded her to do. This wasn't gentle. It was urgent and drenched in emotions. He wanted this just as much as her. She felt the pressure building higher and higher and higher, until it released and little stars seemed to implode behind her closed eyes. She let out a ragged breath that turned into a moan. She felt his blunt nails digging into her flesh a little, there where he held on to her at the hips. It didn't matter. Not when that expression of bliss washed over his face. Not when he lay underneath her like this: his mouth slightly agape as fast breaths burst out of it. She let her head fall to his chest. It was warm and slightly damp. She didn't mind that. His arms slung around her and he shuddered a little. "God," he said quietly and chuckled a little. She could hear his heart thumbing underneath her hear. "Yes," she replied, her voice a little hoarse from earlier.

For a few moments they just lay there and she listened to his slowing heartbeat, feeling serene and tranquil for the first time in days.

"Need to be anywhere tomorrow?" she asked eventually, trying to be smooth as she slowly rolled off of him. She landed on the couch next to him. She was pretty much boneless and sleepy at that moment, but ready to jump up and cook a coffee should his reply be 'yes'.

"No," he answered, swinging his legs over the edge of the couch. He briefly just sat there and shook his head. "Wow!"

"What?" she asked, sitting up slowly.

"I feel dizzy," he grinned at her affectionately, leaning closer to press a peck to her cheek.

"You make me feel dizzy, too," she told him warmly when he pulled back. "But in a good way, right?"

"Yeah, a very good, mind-blowingly, epic way," he grinned.

"Smartass," she laughed. "But thanks. I'll take that as a compliment. I have to get by somehow. Won't be getting any others."

"Really?" he asked throwing her a look over his shoulder.

"Really," she said and smiled at him, trying to tell him that she was okay with his teasing way of showing his affection and that she didn't need any compliments to boost her female ego. His next words surprised her and came unexpected.

"Ye don't need te be thinkin' that," he told her softly stroking her head once. "I'll tell ye somethin'. Ye can easily send me head a spinnin' jus' by lookin' at me, me lil' pixie. Guess that's yer own brand a magic right there, innit?"

"Perhaps," she smiled and laid her head back on the couch, feeling impossible happy if only just for a moment. As she was lying there, all sorts of thoughts crept into her consciousness. It was the inevitable down after an emotional high like this. Unbidden thoughts about how this could go wrong, how they could mess up what they had bubbled up inside her. She suddenly felt cold. Cold and alone. She propped herself up on her arms. "Steve?" her voice called out timidly.

* * *

She wiped her forehead on the towel and held her sides. They had just finished recording the last choreography for the DVD. The director had already screamed those famous, liberating words: "It's a wrap, everybody!" and she was smiling. She checked her cell phone, pulling it out of her bag, because quite inevitably that little moment was something that had her thinking of him. As if thinking of him had been enough to trigger it, his name flashed up on the display. There was that ridiculous photo of him that he had taken during that weekend a couple of weeks ago when they had first been reunited. It popped up on her screen again and again. It showed one of his maniacal grins, white teeth and sparkling eyes that were up to no good. Almost against her own volition she had to smile.

"Steve! Hey!" she picked up the call with a grin on her features. "We've just put a wrap on that DVD!"

"Hey," he was probably moving about with his cell tugged in between his head and his shoulder. In the background there were noises, people talking, their voices slightly echoing. "That's great, but when are ye gonna get here? The show's about te kick off. Yer gonna miss it…"

"Why're you saying that? It's only…" she pulled the phone away to look at the display. "Crap! It's that late already?"

"Yup, that's why I sent ye a driver over te take ye te the arena…"

"Thank you. But I'm still in my dancing outfit and I haven't showered."

"So? When I'm done here I'll be sweaty too…"

"Gosh, I hate it when you get like this," she sighed, massaging the bridge of her nose albeit with a grin.

"Get like what?" she could now hear the amusement in his voice.

"Very convincing and hard to resist?" she replied, already packing up her stuff. After some quick hugs and a goodbye to the team, she was out of the building. She still had her dancing shoes on when she quickly ran down the stairs, towards the black car parked out front.

"Allegra Harrison?" the driver asked when she more or less barrelled through the backdoor of the car and landed in the backseat.

"Yup, that's me. Can we get going, please?"

"Very well, ma'am," the man replied and she spent the ride over to the Staples Center making herself presentable. She checked herself in the mirror, she still had her make-up from the shoot on which was waterproof and perfectly intact, next she sniffed her armpits and promptly wrinkled her nose. "Sorry," she mumbled as she sprayed some deodorant on and readjusted her hair. The pink color had washed out by now and this time she had opted for turquoise hair tips instead, which he had yet to see. But she was sure he would try to work in some nice little joking comment once he did and it would have been a straight out lie if she had said she didn't look forward to that.

At the Staples Center she hastened backstage, her hair bouncing behind her as she strode towards her destination energetically. Her driver had kindly provided her with instructions of how to get there. She held her backstage pass under the nose of some security guy who smiled a little at her outfit. There was gym bag slung over her shoulder, she was wearing some stylish black high top sneakers, dark grey harem pants, an unzipped sweater that revealed a cut up turquoise tank top underneath which a black sports bra peaked out. Every single clothing item was decked out with the logo of the company she was working for and she looked about ready to head into the arena for a personal training session.

The security guy opened the door for her and she strode on through, her energy still high from the shoot. Some kid was waiting there for her instead of Steve, which had her confused and a little disappointed. Aforementioned kid was a guy of maybe twenty-five or something, holding a clipboard in his hand and holding a walky-talky in his hands. She soon learned that Steve was already getting ready to go on stage, so that cleared up that particular mystery. Clipboard-guy soon let her to a monitor from which she could watch the match. He left her there and after looking around for a second, she decided to get comfortable on a crate standing opposite the monitor. She watched the happenings on screen unfold, nervously toying with a strand of her hair. It was Sheamus vs. Rusev. Steve's opponent really looked intimidating.

Someone stepped up next to her. Some guy in an asymmetrical, black coat and dark sunglasses. Since she had spent the last weeks watching the WWE's programming whenever she could, she recognized the Miz instantly. She gave him a quiet nod in acknowledgment and got back to watching Steve wrestle that bulky guy from Bulgaria.

"So, who are you?" the Miz's voice invaded her thoughts. "New face?" The pause after the question wasn't long enough to answer. Apparently he didn't expect her to yet. He just enjoyed hearing himself talking. "Nice outfit," he continued. "Trying that Simon Dean gimmick?"

She wrinkled her forehead in incomprehension. "Sorry? What?"

"Simon Dean? He used to be a guy that worked here. Had that physical fitness guru thing going for him…" Her persistent look of complete ignorance let the Miz stop talking midsentence. "And you've got no idea what I'm talking about…" A look of comprehension appeared on his face. "Wait a second!" he laughed, finally adding two and two together. He sort of obnoxiously pointed his finger first at her then at the TV screen. "You're his girl, right? The dancer."

Currently the TV was broadcasting a picture of Rusev glaring evilly at Sheamus. "That guy?" she grinned. "Naw. I'm not too much into hairy backs, also I don't speak Russian. My name's Ally, by the way, so you won't have to call me 'the dancer' anymore."

"Mike," the Miz pointed at himself with a grin, "aka Miz. Also, just so you know I wasn't talking about Rusev. I meant that pale Irish dude. But you already knew that."

"Oh, is that what everyone around here calls him backstage?" she grinned amusedly, her eyes still fixed on the screen, sucking in a little sympathetic breath when Rusev slammed Sheamus down on the mat. "Personally I prefer calling him Steve. But I'm willing to give 'pale Irish dude' a try." She directed her eyes at Mike for a second after Sheamus got to his feet again, slammed his shoulder into his opponent's stomach and started hitting his chest to get ready for the Brogue Kick. "Loved your work at Hell in the Cell, by the way. Great match. You seem to have a good sense of humour…"

"Thanks," Mike responded and shot a brief grin her way while the match wrapped up on screen in the meantime. Sheamus' Brogue Kick connected, but didn't knock Rusev out. The Irishman looked around flabbergasted and didn't have any time to come up with an adequate counter-attack to Rusev's finisher. He was laid out on the canvas. One-two-three. The match was over.

"And he lets you come here when he loses a match?" Mike tutted.

She shrugged. "Beggars can't be choosers. I was in town. It was my one and only chance to see him in action, so I took it."

"Well, if that's your idea of fun... Seeing your boyfriend getting beat up," he grinned obnoxiously. "But hey… None of my business. Whatever works for you…"

"Seeing him works for me."

"So it's one of those long-distance things, huh? Not like a lot of us have anything else going. Tell you what, I'm gonna be nice to you, Sheamus girl. If you want to see him straight after the match, go down that corridor. It's where all those people in spandex are standing around looking busy as hell and kind of nervous…" He pushed himself off the crate, about to disappear.

"Or I could just wait here. I don't want to get in the way…"

"Or you could do that… See you around then, Sheamus girl," he pulled his sunglasses down for a second and winked at her before he walked away.

She didn't have to wait long for Steve to find her. She saw him coming from all the way down the corridor. He was fresh off stage, still in his wrestling trunks, his hair dishevelled and sticking to his forehead that was all sweaty, just like the rest of him. Despite that she hopped off the crate with a grin. She wasn't sure what to do now. Jog up to him and hug him or wait until he got to her? This was his work place. She didn't want to make a big production out of her being here. Maybe he'd feel uncomfortable.

That particular thought was whisked away when he swept her up in his arms moments later. Her legs were swinging around above the ground for a second. She clung to him despite him being sweaty and even pressed a short kiss to his lips.

He was still out of breath. "Did ye see everything?" he asked excitedly. She nodded. "That clothesline right before the end too?" She nodded again. He was like a little kid showing off his favourite toy, all proud and eager. "Well, what do ye tink about it then?"

A teasing smirk broke out on her face. "Oh, you know me. Anything that involves you half-naked and sweaty has my approval…"

He grabbed her face between his palms. They were warm and a little damp. She didn't mind. "Seriously now."

"You love doing that stuff, don't you?" she asked.

"Yeah," his eyes even did that enthusiastic little sparkly thing they sometimes did.

"I can see that. That's the way it's supposed to be. It's good you're doing something you love. Being passionate about something is the best motivation there is."

Her reply made him smile - a smile that actually reached his eyes. She got what this was about, which was rare and meaningful. It was one step of many in the right direction. Instead of getting sentimental about it, he only laid his arm around her shoulder casually.

"So what do ye say, luv? Shower an' then a nice, big dinner?" he asked her as he led her away from the crate and the monitor.

"Sounds like something I could get into," she grinned.

Only now he noticed the turquoise tips of her hair. She braced herself for the inevitable comment to come and was actually disappointed when he just bit his lips and shook his head grinning quietly to himself.

"Come on. Out with it," she said, titling her head a little to the right as she look at him.

"That comment is jus' gonna get me in trouble."

"I promise it won't."

"Well," he stopped and gently traced his fingers along a strand of her hair before he let it slip from his grasp, "looks like ye've dipped yer hair inte an inkwell," his fingers briefly toyed with a strand of her hair to underline the statement. "Reckless little pixie," he tutted, "Dancin' through life with her head in the clouds. Gotta be more careful."

* * *

PLEASE DROP ME A FEW LINES! I'D APPRECIATE IT.

DevilRae: Hey, thank you so much! Those two are still figuring things out. There are still some insecurities and stuff to work through. Got my fingers crossed for them ;-)

nattiebroskette: I was in the mood for fluff when I started writing. Still kind of am. Steve and Ally balance out any drama Natalie and Stu might be having.

kristal farrelly: You and me both, hon'. Sorry about the long wait.


	9. Easy - What's Easy?

**Author's note**: UntilNeverDawns, you're the best. Nuff said.

* * *

If one thing had to be said about him it was that he was fun. Car rides with him had to be her favourite, because during that time they would just talk about random stuff. "Have ye tried the coffee at the petrol station over there? I had one last week back on me way back home an' it tasted ghastly. Like cat piss or somethin'…" He indicated the petrol station to her with a wave of his hand and made a face as if he was just vividly recalling the vile taste of that coffee.

In addition to Guinness and whiskey, she had found out, he really liked a nice cup of coffee, mainly because he travelled a lot and needed to stay awake somehow and energy drinks weren't as easy to get by as coffee was.

She grinned. "Ever heard of Kopi luwak?"

"Kopi what?" he frowned looking ahead at the street.

"It's a kind of coffee that's made from coffee berries defecated by some kind of Asian cat…"

"Really?" he made a face. "Who'd wanna be drinkin' that?"

"Rich people. It's one of the most expensive coffees in the world," she shrugged.

"Well, I reckon, those petrol station blokes are readyin' the broad US market fer that particular delicacy then… Drinkin' coffe made outta cat shite. What's the world come te?" he mumbled darkly and shook his head, which made her chuckle in the seat next to him.

"What?" he asked, one of the corners of his mouth tugging upwards already.

"You're doing it again."

"Doin' what again?"

"Being disgruntled and cute," she smiled and reached over the central console of the car to squeeze his knee.

"Ah-hah. Cute? Ye gotta tell me stuff like that. It's somethin' I have te avoid at work, ye know," he teased, briefly taking one hand off the steering wheel to grab her wrist and guide the back of her hand towards his mouth. He pressed a wet, somewhat uncoordinated kiss to it, since he was still keeping an eye on traffic.

"Eeeeeew," she whined, wiggling slightly in her seat, the all too intense sensation of his whiskers pressing against her skin as well as the wet imprint kiss making her shiver. She pulled her hand away and wiped it on her trouser leg for show.

"Tank ye very much, luv," he laughed. "Good te know how ye appreciate the lil' sweet tokens of me affection fer ye…"

"You're being overdramatic here. Besides, that wasn't," she air-quoted the next words, "a token of your affection, you just wanted to tease me, like you always do." Her tone was only mockingly accusatory; really she was having a great time.

As she had learned in the last couple of weeks, apparently Irish people were prone to sometimes break out in song unexpectedly and right then and there Steve did just that. "Ye know what? This actually reminds me of a little ditty I once heard… What was it again? Ah. I've got it. _I'll tell me ma when I go home The boys won't leave the girls alone They pull me hair, they steal me comb_…" he sang, shooting her teasing little glances whenever the traffic allowed it. "Somethin' like that, ey? In case yer not aware, me teasin' is also a sign of affection, darlin'."

"You don't say," she rolled her eyes, but destroyed the effect by laughing straight after. She reached forward and switched off the radio. "Now finish that song."

"Like hell Ah will," his grin was actually quite vicious.

* * *

It was Saturday afternoon. He was lounging comfortably on her couch, while she had her ear buds in trying to come up with choreography for a new song.

It must have been the tenth time she had listened to that song and she was starting to get frustrated. She had to come up with something today, because tomorrow she would be off to Orlando for work.

She pushed the door open to the back porch and went outside, not feeling like performing an unfinished dance routine in front of him. About thirty minutes later she thought she had finally managed to put something together, but she wasn't really too happy with the end result. It felt half-assed, like she was trying too hard and the choreography would probably not meet her class's approval. She was still teaching that one class at her regular, old studio. It was something she had insisted on doing, because she had known her students for years and couldn't quite bring herself to stop seeing them every week. Consequently she felt the routine wouldn't live up to their standards, not to mention her fellow instructors' she was supposed to train tomorrow in Orlando.

She ran her fingers over her face and groaned. She threw a quick glance through the glass door behind her. He was still sitting on the couch where she had left him. His gaze was not directed at the TV. He was staring off into the distance, completely zoned out for a moment. She frowned, because for once he looked sad. Like she had caught him in a rare moment of moroseness and introspection, which made her hesitate to call out to him, like she had initially intended to. But somehow her watching him must have set off Steve's spidey-sense. Suddenly his eyes were on her and he forced back a smile on his face as he stepped closer to the glass door. His curiosity had been peeked. There was no keeping secrets from that guy. He always had to put his nose into everything.

With a shudder she remembered how he had opened her car's glove compartment last week and promptly produced an antique and rather flattened Mars bar with an expiration date going as far back as 2006 when she had first bought the car. Quite inevitably a lot of teasing had ensued… At any rate there he was now, waving at her with a puppy dog expression from the other side of the glass door. She glared at him, he pouted, radiating more disgusting cuteness, which was a really odd ability for a man of his size and build. If he was a Pokemon that would probably his most deadly attack: Cuteness-beams or whatever. She snorted at her own thoughts and opened the door.

"Ye look like ye've jus' tried takin' a bite outta that Mars bar jus' there, luv," he grinned and pulled her close to him, once more displaying his rather tactile nature, not that she minded that particular mannerism of him, only now she wasn't in the mood. She gave him a light shove and he took a step back, more out of respect towards her than for the fact that her shove had actually had any impact on him whatsoever.

"All right," he sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets and leaning against the railing of the porch, "What's up?"

"This song is driving me mad! I think I just put together the most complicated choreo known to mankind…"

He frowned. "Come on, sweetheart. Can't be true."

"It is. Everything I tried sucks. This song sucks. Everything sucks…" she hung her shoulders dejectedly.

"So I suck too? Hmm brilliant." He crossed his arms over his chest, his face more serious now.

"No, sorry. You don't suck of course," she hurried to clarify.

"Okay. So I don't suck, duly noted. Feelin' reassured. Cen I do anythin' te help ye or do ye want te complain some more?"

She truly looked confused at this point. "What can you do?" Although he was an athlete and had the body to prove it, she couldn't think of anything he could do to help her.

"I can have a look at that choreography of yers an' tell ye what I tink about it. Provide an objective point a view maybe?"

His suggestion made her heart start hammering inside her chest. Quite inexplicably she suddenly felt shy and nervous, which was odd because just a couple of days ago she had performed in front of hundreds of people. "I don't know…"

"Ye nervous or somethin'?" he asked trying to keep things deceptively casual as he pretended to check his phone, which he briefly after let disappear in the back pocket of his jeans again.

"If you have to know, yes."

He grinned. "But it's only little ol' me."

"That's the reason."

"Yer nervous, aren't ye. Kind a cute," he smirked. "I like that."

She sighed. "All right. I'll do it. But only because I'm out of options and very, very desperate…" she pointed her index finger at him, which only made his grin grow disproportionately. He seemed to like it when she pretended to be stern with him, since he was presently smirking triumphantly. "Steeehheeeeveee!" she whined and hopped a little on the spot, behaving like a real adult right there. "Please wipe that smug look from your face or I won't be able to do anything."

"Sorry," he grinned, still not looking any less smug.

She grumbled something ill-humoured under her breath as she stepped back inside and hooked her phone up to the stereo. "Sit down over there," she pointed at the couch and surprisingly for once he complied.

She hit play and immediately the living room was filled with the loud beat of the song she had been working on. It was a mixture of electronic music and Arabian elements. The electronic passages had given her particular trouble.

He studied her movements with a serious expression, halfway into the song a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth again. His foot started tapping. Finally a proper smile delineated on his face. So it wasn't that bad she concluded. Her show-offy tendencies materialised themselves again now that he had eradicated her insecurities by something as simple as a smile.

The song ended. He got up from the couch, while she was standing there looking at him expectantly. She didn't need to say anything like "So?" He crossed the distance between them and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Nothin' te worry about. Ye got this."

"Seriously."

"Trust me. I wouldn't be sayin' so if it wasn't true," he said and she believed him.

* * *

It was the start of their much-advertised free weekend together and he was dead tired. The week on the road had been hard. He had taken a couple of bumps in the ring. Nothing major, but he knew he would be in trouble once she got to see all those multi-coloured bruises on his body. But he could hardly feel them now. He was dead on his feet.

The caffeine he had consumed in massive amounts in order to not fall asleep on her too soon, was doing its job in so far as it kept him awake, but he was a shadow of himself. Zombie-Steve, a cute, big lug of a zombie, but a zombie nevertheless. His tongue felt like lead, so no clever remarks, his limbs actually felt quite heavy too, so sex was off the menu, unless she didn't mind if he just lay there and didn't do much of anything.

He had been smart enough to have someone drive him over to her place. She had welcomed him at the door. He greeted her with a few tired words and pressed a couple of sloppy kisses to her mouth. She had noticed the hunch of his shoulders, the groans that seemed to underline most of his movements and wordlessly pointed at the couch. He had just raised his eyebrows, wanting to protest, but since he even felt too tired for that, he eventually trotted over to the couch and let himself slump down on it with a little huff, like a kid being told to go to his room.

"You hungry?" she called out over her shoulder, already walking towards her kitchen.

"Yup, I deffo could eat somethin'…" he called back, rolling his neck that had become stiff from sitting on a plane or bus or whatever other vehicle he had travelled with today. At some point he had lost count. Despite him being, really hungry, the sense of decency his ma in Ireland had instilled in him with fierce and reproachful glances and the words "Now, Stephen, we don't have much, but that's no excuse not te be polite…" kicked in full force. "But don't put yerself through too much trouble because of me. Ye hear?" he called out to her in an afterthought.

Inside the kitchen Ally froze. She had just taken a plate with sandwiches from the fridge and removed the transparent plastic foil she had covered it with earlier and now placed it on the kitchen counter. He was late. He was late and he looked as if he was going to fall asleep on his feet any minute. They only had Friday and Saturday together. She would have to leave Sunday morning. Well, technically now they had only Saturday together. Soon he would be sleeping. Another couple of precious hours were chipped of their time together. But she was being childish here and immature. It was just that she had imagined things to go a little differently. She turned around one more time and got the beer from the fridge. Before she left the kitchen she took care to plaster a smile on her face. She was good at those. They were part of her job.

"Yer a goddess," he told her, gratefully reaching out for the objects in her hands and taking them from her. He had existed on coffee, protein bars and snacks from various vending machines for the better part of the day, so real food was something he really appreciated right now.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she grinned. "The usual give him food and he calls you a goddess routine," she rolled her eyes at him good-naturedly and sat down next to him on the couch, her disappointment from earlier, slowly taking a backburner thanks to the way he was smiling at her so gratefully. He was wolfing down the sandwiches in record time and taking large gulps from his beer, the first one followed by an appreciate 'aaaaaaaah'.

After he had polished off the food and the beer in under two minutes, she nudged her head in the direction of his shoes. "Why don't you take those of and stretch out on the couch?"

"Ye wanna drop dead, lass? I've been wearin' those trainers all day…" he tried to caution her.

"Can't be that bad…"

"Ye got no idea…"

"C'mon, let's be adults about this. Isn't that the joy of being in a relationship? Smelling the stinky feet of your boyfriend who's too tired to do anything with you because he's been travelling all day?" She was trying to be funny here, but funny was wasted on him right now. Actually he was slightly mortified by her words. Peel his many layers away and underneath them you would find someone considerate and sweet.

"Sorry," he said, sheepishly rubbing his neck. "I didn't plan te come here all wrecked an' stuff…"

Her smiling face fell a little at that. "Wasn't meant as an accusation," she mumbled. "I was just trying to make you smile. You look really tired and a little sad, so I thought you needed a little cheering up."

"All right," he replied and forced a tired smile on his face. "Sure about them shoes though?"

"Just take them off. I don't mind. In fact I won't even say a word, okay? Girl-scout promise," she laid one hand on her heart and solemnly raised the other as if to swear an oath.

She stayed true to her word and only giggled and wrinkled her nose a little at him after he had kicked off his shoes. He stretched out on the couch with a groan, his head coming to rest on her lap.

"Wanna watch _The Walking Dead_? I recorded the show last Sunday, so we'd be able to watch it together. I know how you're this big Abraham fan-boy…" she started running her fingers through his hair absent-mindedly, unaware of how much he loved it when she did it.

He hummed in affirmation and turned his head so he could watch the screen. She pressed a couple of buttons on the remote and the show started playing. He wasn't able to focus on the dialogue a lot. What he focused on where her finger pads softly running over his scalp. Sometimes they would start out tracing up his sideburns and then disappear in his hair. Other times she would bury her fingers in the hair on top of his head and just gently run them through it back and forth. His limbs felt heavier and heavier and he awoke later when the credits of the show were running over the screen and her hand was gently shaking him awake. He mumbled some apologies and she grasped his hand, leading him to the bedroom.

* * *

She raced home. Once through the door of her house, she threw her gym bag in the corner rather carelessly. In passing she hit the power button on her laptop and quickly zipped into the kitchen to grab something to drink. As ever so often she was still in her workout clothes, but he had texted her to call him when she got home, so that was what she was going to do. They had started video-calling each other almost as soon as he had hit the road again and she was extremely thankful for that, because that way she at least got to see his face a couple of times a week.

After she had greedily gulped down half of the contents of a chilled bottle of water, she sat down in front of the laptop and called him. "Hey," she greeted him when his face popped up on screen. Her smile broadened and took a turn towards cheeky when her eyes flitted over his figure and she noticed that he only had a towel wrapped around his hips and his hair was still damp. "Bad time?"

"Naw. Howya, luv?" he greeted her with a smile, one of those genuine ones he usually directed at her. His chest was still reddish, probably from the warm shower spray and instead of sticking up his hair was matted to his forehead.

She grinned and scooted a little closer to the computer. She let her index finger hover over the middle of his chest. "Hot shower after your match?" Quite predictably he looked down and then rubbed his head in a rather sheepish fashion.

"Yeah… well…"

"You look adorable," she told him, feeling it safe to pass that kind of judgement since he was in no position to retaliate in his usual fashion (tickling her and pinching her) with the physical distance of several hundred miles between them. Maybe it was that false sense of security that induced her to make the following comment as well: "In fact that towel's kind of in the way. Why don't you take it off, hon'?"

Now usually Stephen was big one joking comebacks. Sexual innuendos had made him flush in the beginning, now they were at a point in their relationship, despite it still being rather new, where he didn't flush anymore, but retaliated by making a comment that often left her hot and bothered. Not so today. Today he laughed in a slightly forced and artificial way that made her feel uneasy.

"Listen…"

Oh. Her stomach sank. His tone was serious and he was rarely ever serious, only when it mattered.

"My schedule's changed."

"All right," she blew out a breath and nodded, trying to act the role of the understanding and patient girlfriend. "So what's that mean?"

"I won't be able to make it this weekend…"

"Shit."

"I'll have to do _Make a Wish_ this weekend. John has come down with a severe case of the flu. So that means-"

"I get what that means… No Steve and Ally time this weekend."

"Yeah," he hung his head. "Sorry 'bout that. I'm a pretty crappy boyfriend, huh?"

Considering the fact that she hadn't seen him in two weeks, maybe she should have said 'yes', but there was that longing inside of her, that always wanting to hear his voice just a tiny bit longer, that always wanting to see his face just a little more often that kept her from playing any childish games with him. She sighed. "It's… It's okay. It's not like it's your fault, right?"

He looked at her again. Even the video call managed to transport the thankful expression in his eyes. "I promise, I'll make it up to you..."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Hmmmmmmm… OK." She thoughtfully chewed her bottom lip there for a moment. "How?" The pensive expression on her face was slowly eclipsed by a sly grin.

"Whadda ye mean how?" His eyebrows drew together and a frown appeared on his face. He had reason to be frowning because her devious intentions were pretty easy to spot just by looking at her face.

Her left eyebrow rose up, she scooted to the edge of her seat and leaned closer to the screen in a rather conspiratorial fashion. "Well, since I don't get to see you-"

"-but yer gettin' te see me now…"

"Not the same, doofus… Not in the way that counts."

"In the way that counts?"

"Sweetie… Really? Are you gonna keep repeating each of my sentences right back at me like a parrot?" her voice was a seductive purr and by now he really should have caught up. She was letting him get of easy here. No tantrums, just a little harmless teasing. Well, all right not quite so harmless. "Come on. Think, Farrelly. There's gotta be a way for you to appease me. I'm really disappointed right now…"

His blue eyes first narrowed, then widened in realization. "I'm not gonna be takin' that towel off if that's what yer tinkin'," he replied, his Irish brogue particularly pronounced thanks to his slight disgruntlement.

She just chuckled and unzipped her hoodie, affording him partial and somewhat frustrating glance at her upper body and at the sports bra she was wearing. Automatically he scooted a little closer to the screen to have a better look. She was aware of playing dirty, but a tiny, evil part of her revelled in it, because that was what he would get for standing her up this weekend.

"Why not? You're usually not that coy…"

He spluttered. "Not that coy? Yer aware that laptops can be hacked an' stuff?"

"So?"

"I'm not gonna be sittin' in front of me screen naked as the day I was born…"

"Cold in here," she said and started zipping up her hoodie again.

"When'd ye get that cruel?" She noticed how his knee was sort of bouncy and he was running his hand through his hair.

"Let's see, around the time someone decided to stand me up on our free weekend…"

"Ye really mad?"

She paused and thought for a moment before she finally shook her head and blew out a breath. "No… Just… Well, I dunno. A little disappointed maybe. I was looking forward to seeing you… I kinda missed you this week."

His face softened. "Kinda missed ye, too, luv."

She nodded quietly. "This sucks, huh?"

"Yeah. Damn well does… Sorry."

"Don't say sorry again."

"My apologies, ma'am."

She raised her head. Her eyes sparkled at him. "Idiot."

"Yeah, sounds like yer hearbroken. Like ye miss me pretty damn well, lass," he deadpanned.

"You know how I mean that, so don't be stupid…"

"Stupid, huh?"

"Yeah, stupid," she looked at him, her gaze so affectionate and warm that he couldn't help but to mumble another apology.

"I'm an arse. I know."

She sighed. "No, you're not. It just kind of blows that your schedule's that full, you know…"

"Hmmmmmm…"

"Don't you guys get vacations?"

"Not really. Jus' when we're injured…"

"Hmmmmm… Okay. Not even when your girlfriend's lonely?"

"Yer lonely?"

"I miss you."

She had said that before. But before they were joking. Before it had just been a game. And now she suddenly was serious and he felt… He felt sad and guilty and just the tiniest bit anxious, because he knew he was asking a lot of her saying 'yes' to this long-distance thing and him. Relationships were tricky, especially the getting to know-phase of them. They were often fraught with miscommunications and misconceptions and tiny dramas and they had to do all of that with hundreds of miles between them and moments like these he couldn't help but question her sanity and his, but then again there was that strong pull, almost like a jerk he felt whenever he saw her and talked to her. However long that was, it was never enough. He always wanted more. And that feeling didn't ebb away. It just got stronger with time.

"I'm sorry," he said again, this time very sincerely, though she had told him before not to say it again.

"Just be here in two weeks, okay…"

"I will."

"Good… Now about that towel…"

* * *

One of Stephen's friends from work was having a party at his house in Tampa. It was supposed to be a private get-together: music, drinks, and barbecue - fun. Steve had invited her along, since it was one of those very few weekends they'd both spent at home. He had texted her the address and they had agreed to meet up in front of his friend's house, because she'd come home late and there was no more time for them to meet up earlier. In between video calls over Skype that had varied between teasing and joking tones and barely suppressed longing, it had been almost three weeks since they last seen each other in person, so consequently Ally was rather eager to get there.

The route guidance system of her car told her that her destination was close by, on the right side of the street in fact. Actually that was a redundant piece of information because she could already see Steve standing there, leaning against the side of his car. Her heart sped up at his sight and almost instantly a smile broke out on her face. Luckily she found a parking space easily that didn't require for her to perform any complicated parking manoeuvres.

She got out of the car, feeling giddy like a twelve year old. Actually, when he stepped on the sidewalk a couple of feet from her, she more or less instantly lost the battle against the impulse to run to him. After a couple of seconds of uselessly berating herself to act like an adult she broke out into a run and launched herself in his arms with a squeal. Anyone else would have probably pointed out to her that she was supposed to act her age, in fact people had been telling her that on and off ever since she turned 21. Not so Steve. He was probably her biggest enabler when it came to that sort of behaviour. He lifted her up easily, the strength in his arms not the least bit intimidating. She pressed her nose into his shirt and inhaled deeply. The fabric was warm and soft and his scent made her nostrils tingle. It contained different components she had always trouble figuring out. The headnote was a sort of clean smell, like laundry detergent, mixed with something spicy and woodsy (cologne?) and something that was pleasant, but not really determinable. Was that him?

Her fingers squeezed his biceps. She tried to hold on tighter and in response his arms held her closer. Not too close. Somehow his arms always knew just how to hold her; they were strong and reassuring, but never constricting. He was here. This was real. No more phone calls, desperate wanting and unfilled desires for the next couple of hours. She nuzzled his face, spoke a breathless "hey" in his ear and eventually decided to press a couple of wet kisses to the side of her face. "So good to see you," she grinned up at him. It was the understatement of the century.

"Good to see you, too," he smiled back, flashing her one of those smiles that made her insides melt a little, because it made his dimples come out. A moment passed in which they just looked at each other. His smile grew, he cursed under his breath, but not like he was truly irritated, more like he was slightly disgruntled with himself. It confused her, but the situation soon cleared itself up when he pulled her to him again and kissed her soundly on the lips. "Been too long," he told her sheepishly after. Not that she minded him kissing her again. If it was up to her, she'd drag him into one of their cars, frankly she didn't mind which one, and drive over to her place or his, where she would lock them both up for the weekend. Clothes optional and all.

But that wasn't going to happen. At least not yet. They had a party to attend. Once they had made it past the door and said 'hello' to the host and given him a present, Ally had thought to bring a bottle of Chardonnay, they were suddenly engulfed in the chatty atmosphere of a party. A pretty laidback party. Everyone she met was quite nice, but nevertheless there were lots of people and lots of names to remember.

Apparently this was also considered a safe environment for wrestlers, because wine, beer and cocktails were consumed with cheerful enthusiasm and some people's pronunciation had already started getting a little slurry and their behaviour had become a little more outlandish, but not bothersome. She couldn't begrudge them. Ally had had a tough week, too, so the idea of a little harmless chat with some friendly faces and a couple of glasses of white wine or maybe a cocktail had something appealing.

She tugged at Steve's hand. They had separated from one of his friends and were headed over to the buffet table. There had been this one of those short moments again when she thought she had seen melancholia and sadness reappear in his gaze, like this occasion and the happy atmosphere made him contemplate his life or maybe even regret something. She didn't like it. So she squeezed his hand to get his attention. "Hey, you," she threw him a smile which he reciprocated with one of his own.

"Hey."

"So what's the plan for tonight?"

"Whadda ye mean?"

Her smile broadened into a proper grin that actually showed a bit of gum and a vast expanse of white teeth. Doubtlessly there was a tiny maniacal glitter in her eyes she knew he always had trouble resisting. "I don't know. The night is still young. Let's do something fun. How 'bout we get drunk?" she suggested. She was desperately trying to cheer him up, figuring that if he was unhappy with some things, maybe she was part of the problem. She didn't want to be a problem and if she wasn't part of the problem she didn't want to add to it. She wanted to make things better for him and maybe this would.

"Jus' like that?"

"Just like that," she confirmed. "How about it?"

He contemplated for a couple of seconds and then shrugged. "What da ye mean drunk? Are we talkin' like completely hammered, or what?"

She let go off his hand and crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm talking the drink responsibly variety of drunk. We're over twenty after all…"

"Yeah, like that's ever kept anyone from doing anytin' foolish. Suddenly tryin' te come across as a responsible adult, are we? Too late fer that, Ally-cat" he teased her and pinched her cheek.

"Pff!" she swatted at his hand unenthusiastically and chuckled. "You know what I mean. I'm talking the 'I don't want you to be holding back my hair when I puke later' kind.' And never call me Ally-cat again. I hate that."

His eyes sparkled and quite predictably he scooted down to her height, so his face was right in front of hers and just said one single word, "Ally-cat", which immediately made her try to mock-strangle him. He made a show out of trying to peel her fingers from his throat, pretending like she was truly choking the air right out of him in a rather dramatic way, with a lot of huffs and grimaces. Naturally he was quite convincing at that, since he was selling injuries and fighting scenes for a living. "Dumb-ass," she grumbled affectionately and couldn't help but laugh a little, inevitably releasing her rather lax grip on his throat. She noticed that she had crumbled up the collar of his short in the process and casually, as in an afterthought, adjusted it, which made him smile at her affectionately, while she remained oblivious to that with her gaze fixed on his collar.

"So?" she eventually asked, meeting his eyes. "Are you in or what?"

He raised himself to his full height again. "All right then," he grinned, surprisingly not putting up a fight at all.

"Really?" she looked at him in surprise. "No 'I have to get up earlier tomorrow, Ally'? No 'I'm an athlete I don't drink'?"

He threw her a smirk and a pretty teasing and impish one at that. "Naw, why should I? Ye only live once, luv. 'Sides it's not like ye were suggestin' anytin' remotely in the territory of emptyin' a bottle of Jaeger or sometin'..."

"If I had, would you have been up for that?" she asked, her tongue poking out a little from the corner of her mouth.

"Dunno," he shrugged and winked at her. "Ye didn't ask, did ye now?"

"Should I?" she asked, latching on to the front of his shirt with her fingers as she grinned up at him. She was swaying a little left and right when she looked up at him, completely flirtatious and delighted with the smirk on his face.

"That would prolly lead te that pukin' ye talked 'bout. Not sure I want ye te be holdin' back me hair either…"

"Interesting. So you'd do anything I ask you to? Just like that?"

He gave her a long, appraising look, his eyes briefly narrowing while his face assumed a serious expression. "Who knows…" he finally said cryptically.

"Ah-hah," she laughed a little, making his private nickname (little pixie) for her all honours. The sound of her laughter all gleeful, slightly maniacal and mischievous. "Keep telling yourself that, sweetie. We both know I've got you wrapped around my little finger."

Surprisingly he grabbed her hand and aforementioned little finger, holding it up between them. "That one?"

"Hmm-mmmh."

"I dunno, luv. Looks quite harmless te me," he squinted his eyes at it. "Maybe a bit gaudy an' colourful," he commented the emerald coloured nail polish on it.

"Don't pretend like you don't like it. I picked that colour because of you. What with it being the national colour of Ireland and stuff…"

"Really?" he grinned. "Goin' soft on me, lil' pixie? Maybe it's the other way 'round after all. Seems like A got ye wrapped around this one," he held up his own pinkie in her face, "pretty well."

"Oh, shut up you!" she sat and swatted away his hand. "So drinks?" she asked impromptu changing the conversation topic. It was one of those rare occasions where she became aware of how sickening sweet they were with each other, almost to the point of being sappy and felt a little bit of self-loathing because she hated couples like that.

"Jaeger?" he teased.

"No, you idiot, I wanted to get buzzed, not drunk off my ass."

"What happens when yer buzzed?"

"Find out," she shrugged and her eyes sparkled at him teasingly.

"All right then…" he replied casually.

* * *

**You know the drill. Reviews are like early Christmas presents...**


	10. There Is More

**Author's note**: _UntilNeverDawns did an awesome job as a beta as always. You need to know that. Definitely.__  
_

_Dear, dear readers, thank you for your kind words, thank you for just reading, thank you for favouriting and following, thank you period. I'm glad you've decided to come on this ride with me. This is not going to be epic. Medium length, but we still have a few chapters to go. 3? 4? I don't know. We'll find out together. Anyhow, Just like "Honesty Is Always A Good Policy" this one will go into a tiny holiday-hiatus as well, so UntilNeverDawns and I can recharge our respective beta-ing and writing batteries._

_Enjoy the holidays, enjoy your time with your loved ones. Food and good people, that's what this is all about, not in that order necessarily. Take care and read you soon! I'll be back before you know it._

_P.s.: I'm on tumblr now. My username is the same as here._

* * *

And just like they had previously agreed they slowly but surely dwindled into a state of pleasant inebriation over the course of the evening. Since Ally was a lightweight, it quickly made her more tactile and by the second glass of Chardonnay she became practically attached to Steve's hip, whereas the aforementioned Irishman became more talkative and extroverted, doing everything in his power to keep her entertained and impress her. It was cute how he tried to regale her with anecdotes from his youth, she thought, before that thought got submerged in more Chardonnay. He would probably turn beet-red if he were ever to find out that she now knew about his chubby-phase as a ten-year-old, induced by his Nan's passion for baking carrot cake and his for eating it. Actually in her pleasant alcoholic haze she came to associate the word 'cute' more frequently with him.

They were both still laughing and red-cheeked when they later stumbled towards the cab home. There was a brief disagreement over where home was, but not about the fact that they would both be heading there together. It must have driven the taxi driver nuts, but it entertained the both of them immensely. But he had no reason to be angry with them for long. After all his trouble with them he received a pretty massive tip and was more than happy to leave them to some more charmingly disjoint and private conversations in front of Ally's house.

"Now this would be 'bout the right time fer a little jig. Not when we're all sober an' stuff like back at the gym," he suggested out of the blue when they made their way to the front door with unsteady steps, his arm wrapped around her waist to steady her.

She ran her hand through her hair, mussing it up. "You think I'm too drunk to dance? Never too drunk to dance," she told him and promptly tried a dance step, which nearly landed her on her ass. Nearly because he caught her just in time.

"Ooops," she giggled.

"Woah, luv! Easy. Watch yer step," he told her, while she was leaning into him and still giggling softly into his chest.

"What's so funny?" he asked looking down in her slightly reddened face with a grin of his own.

"Nothing," she snorted out another laughter. "Just that one day I'm gonna break my nose on your pecs…"

A dismissive 'pfff' sound was all he uttered.

"Seriously," she poked at his chest muscles. "Hmmmmmm… What size are those anyway? Maybe I should give you one of my bras," now she was actually groping his pecs. He let it happen, chuckling a little.

"That's sexual harassment, girlie," he told her nuzzling her face a little, upon which she actually squeezed his chest.

"Hmmmmm… Let's see… An A-cup? Probably even a little more," she joked, poking fun of him in a way only she could, with a wink in her eyes and a look of adoration in them. Thanks to the adoration bit, he'd let the A-cup comment slide. Suddenly, however, a quizzical expression appeared on her face. "I once saw the Rock do the Pec Pop of Love in a movie… Can you do that?" Her hands sank down as if she was actually expecting him to do that now.

This time he actually laughed out loud. "What the feck's that?"

"You do a little dance with your chest muscles. Dun-da-da-dun-da-da-da. Come on, babe! Dance for mama. If only we had some berries…"

Instead of fulfilling her request he shook his head with a soft chuckle and pressed his lips to her forehead. "Ye know what? Yer daft an' incredibly cute when yer drunk."

"Boooh! And you're already sobering up," she whined with a frown. "No fair!"

"No, actually I'm still a lil' bit buzzed," he tried to reassure her.

She stumbled up the three steps to the front porch, almost landing flat on her face, but catching herself in the last second. "I'm fine… I'm fine," she announced, swatting his helping hands away. "Don't distract me with your manly, gropey hands… You were saying how you were still buzzed. Prove it. Do something stupid," she challenged with a pout on her face.

"Like what?" he asked in a tone that betrayed a dangerous amount of curiosity and enthusiasm.

"I dunno," she shrugged her shoulders, but there was already a grin on his face that told her he had come up with an idea of his own. She let out an adorable little squeal when he backed her up against the front door and cupped her breast with one hand and a fair amount of cockiness.

"How about that?" he asked. "Can ye do the Pec Pop of Love?"

She had by now overcome her initial shock and taken stock of the situation: his knee was wedged between her legs and one of his hands was right next to her head, while his other one was still cupping her breast. His eyes were glittering in the twilight and she felt his warm breath on her face when he spoke again. "What's that ye got here? A C-cup?"

She licked her lips slowly and deliberately before she spoke. "That's your something stupid? Sexual harassment on the front porch?"

"That's already sexual harassment te ye?" he made a dismissive noise and lowered his face to the side of her neck. His fingers closed around her wrist and held it in place when she started to shudder and writhe against him long before he even did anything. "Ah'll show ye how it's done properly," his breath fanned against her skin. She only let out a tiny little whimper in response. The situation had turned from playful to sexually charged in a matter of seconds.

She let out a little gasp when his mouth closed over her neck. What could have just been an innocent kiss became increasingly less innocent when the pressure of his lips grew more insistent and he sucked and lapped at her skin. She squirmed against him, her knees going weak. Finally he let go of her wrist and she soon wrapped her arms around him. "Luv yer taste," he whispered heatedly against her skin and she only made a humming noise in approval, incapable of formulating a verbal response at this point. "A wanna taste every inch of ye. See if the rest of ye is jus' as delicious…"

Now drunk minds have a weird way of working, because she pulled his head back a little, wanting to uttered the words on the tip of her tongue. Her voice was breathless and the expression on her face was sort of funny. He looked at her in surprise, seeing as he could not really comprehend why she would want to say anything right now. "Everything? My hair too?" she made a face. "Yuck! You're such a weirdo."

At this point he had not much left to do but sigh, chuckle and shake his head a little. "Dirty talk's wasted on ye in this state, huh?" He was breathing just as fast as her and despite his question, he could tell thanks to the wild look in her eyes that she was more than a little turned on right there. Why she was asking stupid question in a moment like that was beyond him, though.

"Not wasted," one of her hands had delved underneath his t-shirt and was tracing interesting little patterns on his back and making it hard for him to focus on her words, "but I don't like lines like that. They sound like something out of a hot love scene in a movie. I want genuine you. You know when you go all 'grrrr'. Genuine you is very sexy."

"What if that was just what A'm tinkin'?"

"Was it? Men usually are more pervy in my experience," she arched a delicate eyebrow at him, challenging him to say what was really running through his head. He blushed a little then and it made her chuckle.

"Yeah, like your nice little buzz isn't wearing off. You can't even say it," she teased.

"I can," he told her, furrowing his brows a little.

She raised her chin. "Prove it."

He just stared at her, but before he could summon the courage to say anything, actually it would have gotten a little awkward at this point, because she was more or less challenging him to, she took mercy on him and put him out of his misery. Just like that. Just because she already knew him well enough to do that.

"You know what?" she grinned. "Actually, I think I'm a little bit psychic…" He watched her face with an interested expression. All the blood in his body seemed to rush south when he listened to the next words that passed her lips. "What you were thinking was actually something along the lines of 'I want to take you, right here against the front door', right?"

He suddenly felt very sober and extremely aroused. "Yer right. Yer a psychic," he replied and crushed his mouth to hers again.

"Then…" she gasped, in between kisses, "say that next time. I don't mind you… being like that… Not right now…" His hands had delved underneath her clothes and the sound of his rapid breathing and humming sounds of approval, spiked up her own pulse. "Say it," she repeated again, the words only a whisper, but still rather urgent. "I don't need poetry... I just… need you…. It's been over two weeks."

"Keys. Where are yer feckin' keys?" His hands were already searched her body for them quite urgently and thoroughly. No, they were not hidden in the cups of her bra. He eventually found them in the pocket of her skin-tight jeans. He shoved her inside the house and the expression in her eyes had something wild to them. The door fell shut behind them with a loud bang. He had used his foot to close it. She giggled in delight. He advanced at her with a growl and his lips furled back a little, upon which she inched back and let out a little squeak. That reaction was too equivocal for him to interpret correctly right now and he more or less immediately pulled back, not wanting to do something premature. After all they didn't know each other that well yet, at least not in that respect.

"Ye okay?" he asked worriedly. "I didn't a want te scare ye, lass." His breaths were puffing against her hair and she looked up at him with big eyes, her lips a little swollen from kissing.

"Are you crazy? That growl thingie just now? Such a turn on."

"Yeah?" he grinned proudly.

"Yeah," she traced a little pattern on his chest and looked at him from under hooded eyes, chewing at her bottom lip once before she released it again. He interpreted that as an invitation to kiss her again and the whimpering sound she made when he did confirmed at suspicion. Also she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. Out of pure selflessness he decided to make things easier for her by cupping her bum and stumbling over to the bedroom with her in his arms. They more or less fell through the door and towards the bed. Later neither of them would remember how their clothes were removed or how they had actually possessed the presence of mind to think of protection, but somehow they did.

There was no foreplay and that was fine for both of them. Each word they had exchanged over the phone in the last few days, each incidental and deliberate touch tonight had led to this very moment, so in a way there had been two weeks worth of foreplay, come to think of it. What they both craved was a renewal of their physical connection, a reminder of the bond they shared, because now there was one and it wasn't subtle like in the beginning, it was urgent and desperate and filled with longing and that longing could only be quenched momentarily in this one, carnal way.

It was just as much about the sounds she made and how she made him feel as it was about his need to be close to her. He wanted to explain to her what he could not yet put into words – that there was a sense of belonging and possession. He tried to tell her that by the way he intertwined his fingers so tightly with hers, the way he closed his eyes in pleasure when he felt her nails trace down his spine and he kissed her when she moaned his name.

* * *

The next morning was really bright. The sunlight that was filtering through the window seemed to be very cheerful it was morning, but Ally was not and its light made her skull ache rather acutely. After uselessly attempting to postpone the inevitable and a good while of tossing and turning, she was slowly coming to. She opened her eyes and instantly squeezed them shut again. The light! Argh! She felt like a vampire. Her head was throbbing dully with the quite noticeable hangover of supposedly responsible drinking. She took a chance again at opening her eyes again, more cautiously now, one after the other. Talking about vampires, there was a pale, muscular male arm resting over hers and the solid weight of another body at her back. Hot exhales were gushing against the nape of her neck. She was wearing a shirt that was several sizes too big for her and only that.

Just as she became aware of those positive and slightly awkward details (she was not sure how she felt about sleeping in his shirt and only his shirt), she became also aware of the unpleasant ones: the pressure of her bladder that would soon require for her to move and the parched feeling in her mouth. She didn't even want to get started on the topic of morning breath after yesterday's alcoholic dalliances.

So it was with great reluctance that she eventually detangled herself from his embrace. She avoided sudden movements, factoring in her hangover and was therefore not surprised when her headache worsened when she slowly sat up in bed. Taking a look over her shoulder was tempting and she gave into that urge. There he was stretched out on her bed. His mouth slightly agape as he softly snored, the blanket wrapped around his hips – _So adorable_, she thought despite her headache. Curiosity got the better of her, she didn't remember much about last night, only what the pleasant and already dulling ache between her thighs and a couple of vivid flashbacks told her. She slowly raised the blanket and peered underneath, trying not to rouse him from sleep. A smirk delineated on her face. Naked. Hmmmmm. If only she weren't so hung over.

She padded to the bathroom, finding two torn up condom wrappers as she went. The second one had been the charm obviously. She remembered that at least. They had blown up the first one and attempted to twist it like a balloon animal. Hadn't worked out. She scoffed quietly under her breath and swayed in the direction of the bathroom with the grace of an un-dead body walking the earth. Once inside, she decided to brush her teeth while she was in there. Having done that, she stood for a moment in the doorframe contemplating what to do next. Slipping back into bed with him sounded tempting, but not yet and not empty-handedly. So she slouched towards the kitchen instead and started a pot of coffee. When it was done, another slight hitch in her plan became apparent to her. She had no idea how he took his coffee, so she went rummaging for a tray and put the coffee pot on it, followed by two mugs, a milk carton, sugar and two teaspoons.

Concentrating on not spilling any of the precious coffee, she padded back inside the bedroom. He had his head buried in her pillow now and one of his hands fisted in the blanket. He was still sleeping. She sat the tray down on the dresser and pulled out a clean pair of panties from a drawer. She quickly slipped it on and sat down on the bed, cross-legged, staring at him as she waited for him to wake up.

After roughly one minute he started to stir and rolled on his back, thirty more seconds or so later, his eyelids started to flutter. His arm instantly came to rest over his eyes, he groaned. Somehow he must have become aware of her presence though, because he subtly shifted his body in her direction. "Morning," she smiled, suddenly feeling more cheerful, seeing that he was just as miserable as her.

She leaned down and pressed a peck to his forehead. He made a grumbling, sort of humming noise, which made her laugh softly and clutch her head in agony almost immediately. _That damned headache_! Laughing was a bad idea.

Struck with sudden inspiration, she quickly, well at least she didn't slouch anymore, got them a bottle of water from the kitchen and a couple of Advils from the cabinet behind the bathroom mirror. When she got back inside the bedroom, he hadn't moved much. He was still on his back, with his arm covering his eyes. It was a rather attractive look. It almost had something artsy about it. She stood for a second in the doorframe, taking in the scene before her innate hyperactivity manifested itself again and she moved towards the bed.

The mattress dipped under her weight and he groaned. "Don't be so melodramatic," she admonished him with a smile and gently pried his arm away from his face. He sighed and looked up at her, already starting to smile as he took in her features.

"Hi."

"Hi," the word flowed out of her, all warm and affectionate. She reached for the coffee pot and poured him a mug of coffee, while he slowly scooted up against the headboard. He gratefully reached out his hands for the mug, shaking his head cautiously at the offer of milk and sugar. A little appreciative hiss escaped him when he first cradled the hot mug in his hand and sipped from it slowly.

"Hang-over breakfast?" he said eventually, his voice sounding gravelly and low, those words being the first he had spoken all day.

"Yeah. Something like that," she smiled at him over the edge of her own mug. The sleeves of his shirt were always falling forward when she lowered it, though she kept pushing them back instantly. "Advil?" she asked setting the mug back on the bedside table.

He shook his head. "Water," he said, already reaching for the bottle and gulping a quarter of it down right after he had screwed the lid off.

"Attractive," she remarked teasingly.

"Want some?" he asked, holding the bottle out to her. "No thanks," she shook her head and raised her coffee mug. He shrugged and screwed the lid shut. "Any idea where me knickers are?"

She did. They were lying behind her on the floor, but she wasn't about to tell him. She shrugged her shoulders innocently, batting her eyes at him prettily. "Why'd you need them? I've already seen everything," she informed him, gesturing at his body in a roundabout way with her free hand.

"Last smidgeon of modesty, I guess," he shrugged his shoulders and slightly shifted against the headboard.

"Overrated," she told him, grinning at him wickedly as she took another sip from her mug before she settled down next to him, her legs stretched out on top of the covers.

"Nice legs," he smiled and patted her knee affectionately for a moment.

"I know," she replied cockily and took a triumphant sip from her mug.

The delivery of that particular line and the smug luck on her face made him chuckle despite himself and he instantly grabbed his head. "Ow!"

"Yeah, sorry forgot to warn you…laughing hurts," she confirmed and leaned in to press a kiss to his temple. After she had pulled back, he grabbed her hand on top of the covers and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Ye know… despite the massive headache, I'm really enjoyin' every minute of this…"

"Me too… But…"

"But?" he looked at her.

"I… Well, how do I put this?"

His hand squeezed hers a little more tightly. "Jus' say it." The tips of his fingers were suddenly a little cold against her skin. Had she managed to scare him? Maybe it would have been wise to phrase her opening sentence a bit differently. It had sounded like she wanted to initiate a break-up conversation. She looked at his face. In passing her eyes flitted over his chest and she noticed the quick rising and falling of it almost as an afterthought. His blue eyes bore into her expectantly, but also a little anxiously.

"Well… erm… how do I put this? There are moments when we're together and you're sort of… zoning out?" She still wasn't sure how to approach the subject and maybe she was messing up here, because his eyebrows drew together and he was regarding her with a frown. But perhaps that was just the sort of face he made when he didn't understand what she wanted to say. It wasn't like she had made herself all that clear. "It's just that I've noticed and I'm a little worried now. I keep asking myself if… if… it's me…"

He blew out a breath.

"Is it me?" Her voice had an uncharacteristically timid ring to it now. Her heart was pounding fast and loudly inside her ears. Up until now it hadn't occurred to her how important this was to her. Correction, how important he was to her. But it turned out that the thought of him giving her any kind of negative answer or rejecting her, left her with a gaping feeling of dread.

Time seemed to pass much slower now as he regarded her with the intense blue gaze of his eyes. The frown slowly ebbed away from his features and the only remainders of it were the soft lines between his eyes where his skin had wrinkled earlier. Still he remained hesitant to speak.

"Steve… please… This is killing me. Say something."

He sighed. "I've jus' been thinkin'..."

"About what?"

"About ye an' me an' how this is goin' te work in the future…"

Her heart plummeted.

"If you're not happy with-"

"No!" his voice cut vehemently through her sentence. "No, that's not what I wanted te say."

She extricated her hand from his for her second to bury her head in her hands. "Gosh!" her hot breath, fanned against her legs. His hand touched her back hesitantly before she sat up straight again, brushing her hair from her face with a casual and quick flick of her hand. She tried hard to hide her anxiety when she looked at his features again that were uncharacteristically serious for once.

"Now you are scaring me."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean te."

"Then talk to me! Please!"

"I've been thinkin' about us-"

"Steve! Come on! If you're going to break up with me –"

"I'm not! Jaysus!"

Both of them were breathing hard now. The conversation had taken an unexpected turn for both of them. It had made her more anxious and him suddenly and very acutely aware of the fact that it was more serious than he had initially thought.

"I'm not goin' to break up with ye… Last thing on me mind… But maybe ye…"

"Maybe I…?"

"I jus' keep wonderin' sometimes that maybe ye want te… break up that is, an' te be honest I… I don't much like the thought… Despite us not seein' a lot of each other, I tink this works out pretty danm well. Don't ye?"

Her mind needed a moment to wrap around his words and make sense of them. So what was he saying there? That whenever he zoned out he was worrying about her breaking up with him? That was stupid. Actually they had both been stupid and insecure and a little pathetic. They were both worrying simultaneously about the other wanting to break up? How shitty, pathetic and needy was that?!

She didn't want to break up with him. He was damn near perfect with his broad smiles, his sense of humour and his easy-going nature that was occasionally spiced with a little bit of a temper. Actually that description of him was inept and lacking. It was merely superficial at best. But that didn't matter. What mattered right now was the fact that breaking up with him, despite the comparatively little time they spent together, was actually the furthest thing from her mind. It would be stupid. Immensely stupid, because you don't break up with a person whose presence you crave. Yes, she wanted to go with the word 'crave' here. Because talking to him was usually the best part of her day, even it was just over the phone or the computer most of the time.

"Aren't ye goin' te say anytin'?" he asked, subtly nudging her shoulder a little with his.

"Sorry… I guess right about now it was me who did a little zoning out number on you, huh?" she scratched her head and laughed awkwardly, feeling suddenly a bit nervous.

"Yeah. What were ye tinkin' about?"

"How… how we're both some kind of real whack-jobs. We're both sitting around worrying about one of us wanting to break up with the other… That's… We're both such a bunch of losers."

"I guess," he grinned. "We're really a little pathetic, huh?"

"Just a little? I mean… Don't take that the wrong way, but you're really a great guy… Why would I want to end things with you, huh?"

"Yeah, I'm a great guy… Yup. Great. Fantastic." He was being self-deprecating again, she could tell thanks to the tone of his voice and the derisive sparkle in his eyes, so she gave him a little shove.

"Please, none of that shit now, okay?"

"Okay."

"What I've been trying to say is… Is. Oh fuck! How do I actually say this without sounding like a complete retard?"

"By not swearin'?"

"No, I don't think that's it," she smiled.

"Sorry, me bad. I forgot how swearin' makes everything sound so much more romantic."

She gave him a slight nudge with her leg and reached for his hand again. Wrapping her fingers firmly around his, she looked at him.

"So what do ye wanna say?" he asked her again this time more softly.

"I dunno. Just that I really, really, really don't want to break up with you."

"Sorry, but that's a bit lame actually."

"Lame?"

"Yup. Ye can do much better than this," he challenged her.

She gave him a long look. There were words on the tip of her tongue now, but maybe it was childish saying them now and a little premature, after all what she was feeling for him, the depth of those feelings, had just started to become clear to her. She was not ready to make any grand declaration yet and maybe he was not ready to hear them yet. She didn't know. Maybe it was just a pathetic excuse because she was too chickenshit to say anything right now. Instead she just turned to him and since he seemed to want to maintain eye contact he mirrored her move.

For a couple of seconds neither of them spoke. They just sat there and looked at each other. And like so many times before she tried to look deeper than just looking at his handsome features and she fancied that for once she actually succeed. Maybe because of the situation or those words they had exchanged earlier. Or maybe it was that for once he didn't try to distract her with smiles and jokes.

His features were relaxed and she saw the soft lines around his eyes. She thought she saw a mixture of different emotions in his gaze: affection, calmness and as always there was a pinch of exhaustion. He was always so tired and worn out. Because of that latter discovery she reached out her hand and touched his cheek. His eyes slowly fell close and he leaned into her touch, almost like a cat would nudge its head affectionately against the hand that wants to caress it.

"You're right. I can," she said softly. Her hand was still cupping his cheek and when he slowly opened his eyes again to look at her, they seemed to pierce her straight through the heart. "You're important to me… In fact if I'm really honest…" she lowered her gaze there for a second, "Being with you has become one of the most important things in my life. When you're not here I feel…"

"Sad?"

"Yeah."

"Which is pretty-"

"Crazy," she finished for him.

"Yeah, that an' a bit ridiculous… The ferst thing I wanna do when I get back te the hotel is call ye… No, if I'm honest… sometimes I'm not even at the hotel yet… it's straight when I get outta the gym. When I get one minute alone an'…"

He couldn't finish the sentence, because there was a little gasp and then she was kissing him. Not like she had last night, like a drowning woman, all desperation and greedy touches. No, this was different. Her lips pressed against his with determination and purpose, but not brutally so. There was a message he was supposed to get and she managed to make herself quite clear by the way her mouth gently moved in time with his and her hands traced over the sides of his face so slowly and tenderly.

"Don't be so sweet," she told him softly when she pulled back and he understood what she meant with those words because her eyes were shining and her voice was a little hoarse.

"Jus' tellin' the truth," he replied, lowering his head.

She smiled. Her feelings for him were so very close underneath the surface now. Warm, affectionate and still a little muddled-up.

"Anyway. I can't help but sometimes wonder if what we have is enough… It's not like I don't know. Because I do… I know it's not enough. Not if-"

"Not if…" she tried to coax him into speaking on.

"Not if this is serious an' we want more." There was a pause in their conversation now during which his blue eyes flitted over her face with something akin to desperation as if she could peer into her head like that and read her thoughts. It turned out he couldn't. "Do we want more?" he asked eventually.

"Oh God!" her voice was vibrating now. She let her head sink to his chest. "Do we have to do this now?"

"We can't do this over the phone."

"No, you're right."

"So?"

"Of course I do. What did you think? That I just wanted someone to sleep with because I felt lonely?" she raised his eyes to his again and in her gaze there was almost something challenging. As if to appease her he reached up his hand and laid it against her cheek. She could feel the rough, dry texture of his palm, lifting weights and taping your hands would do that to you. In addition to that it was warm and strong, but its touch slightly unsteady, because the faintest bit of tremor betrayed his insecurity.

"I hoped that that was not all there was… But ye… ye gotta know that this is where this gets complicated…"

"Why?"

"Are ye happy with the way tings are now?"

"What do mean?" she frowned.

"Well, we can't have tings normal couples have… Normal dates… Seein' each other more often than just a couple a times a month… Everyday tings, arguin' over who takes out the garbage or who gets the remote or how te squeeze out the feckin' tooth paste an' whatnot… Right now I can't give ye that… Not yet. I just can't… I can't stop workin' yet. There is more I want te do." She could tell saying those things cost him a lot of courage. He had probably not said them to anyone for some time, because those sentences came a bit haltingly with a lot of stops and starts.

"And I'm not asking you to… Not right now. I would be a hypocrite if I did. I just accepted this new job, remember?"

"Yeah. Kind a hard te forget. That feckin' job..."

She smiled. "Yeah, just like your fucking job. Couldn't you have picked something less… hmmm… flashy? Like plumber? Or mechanic? Or I dunno…"

"I wrestle. It's what I do. I'm not good at anything else," he said it with conviction, but she thought that maybe he wasn't aware that he could be more, that he already was more. At least to her.

She sighed. "I get it. I do… But it's not true that you're only good at this one thing… You're good with a lot of things. You're funny and kind and smart… and… you're so much more than just that… You're great… One of the best people I know… I don't know what-"

"Ally…" he threw her a look. His forehead set in a frown and the corners of his mouth turned down like he had a bitter taste in his mouth. Had she said something wrong? His hands gripped hers abruptly and she flinched, but only because he had caught her unprepared and there was suddenly this intensity in his eyes as if her words had lit something within him and sparked a new determination.

"Yes," she breathed, because despite feeling queasy and insecure, she needed to know what this was about.

"I… this is stupid… I shouldn't," he stuttered the determination ebbing away somewhat.

"No, you should. Say it."

"Stay with me… Say that ye will," he said with a sudden urgency.

"What is this about?"

"It's about the fact that I need ye, but I have no feckin' right te want ye… Because maybe I'm not good enough fer ye… Screw that… Not only maybe. I want te offer ye more… I should be able te offer ye more…But I can't. And it's killin' me…It's not enough… Maybe I'm not here enough… Maybe ye feel-"

"You might not be here all the time, but that's okay. We talk all the time. Remember?"

"Yeah, on the bleedin' phone or over the computer or some other shite. But is that a way te have a relationship? I mean do ye serious want-"

"Steve… That's the way things are right now. And that's… That's okay."

He nodded, albeit with a grim expression on his face.

Admittedly that expression had her a little worried. "If…If I promise to stay with you, will you stay with me too?"

"Will I stay with ye?" his voice sounded incredulous as he repeated her words back at her. He shook his head and threw her a bitter smirk. "Ye shouldn't be askin' me that. Ye should ask yerself if ye really want this. Because yer not buyin' yerself into a fairy tale here… This is not gonna be easy… It's gonna be-"

"-messy and complicated and stuff. Yadda, yadda, yadda."

His eyes grew huge at her surprising display of irony. He hadn't counted on that to happen.

"Newsflash. You're not Edward Cullen or the Phantom of the Opera," she continued, despite his slack jaw and his open mouth. "Honestly… while I hate having to wait around to see you, it's worth it in the end. Completely. So yes… I do want to take this to the next level. Yes, I do want to stay with you."

In the meantime he had recovered from his initial shock. "Yer really sometin' else, tellin' me te shut me gob like that…I was gonna be a gentleman fer once… and ye go an'-"

"-Shut up! It's your turn to say it now."

He smiled. "Ally."

"Steve. Just say it."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Ally… the answer was always gonna be the same… I do want te be with ye."

* * *

_Loved it? Hated it? What do think about this chapter? Let me know and give me something to work with! In other words: Please review!_


	11. A Little Birdie Told Me

**Author's note: ** Happy new year, you guys!

* * *

She was just getting ready for bed. She had somehow managed to steal his shirt from him in exchange for an old faded band shirt he had fished from her closet and stretched out irreparably with his broad frame. The memory made her smile and she briefly grabbed the collar of the shirt and brought it to her nose. It still smelled faintly of him. Letting the collar sink down, she spit out her toothpaste and rinsed out her mouth. Her phone was resting on the counter next to her. It started ringing and made her jump slightly. She saw his face flash on the display. It was that ridiculous photo from way back (Okay, more like three months ago) when they first went out that made her grin every time she saw it pop up on that little screen. Like always, she didn't hesitate to answer.

"Heeeeeey, cuddle-bear," she said, cackling softly to herself because of that disgusting nickname she had just given him as she let herself fall back on her hotel bed. Tomorrow, bright and early, she would have to teach another one of those training sessions that would last well into the late afternoon.

She heard his breath hitch in surprise at her exaggerated term of endearment and then his laughter peeled out of the other end of the line.

"Hey there, sugar-lips," the nickname was rewarded by a snort from her, "what's up?" The word 'up' in his native accent sounded cuter than anything he could have come up with in terms of disgustingly sweet and sickening endearments, at least in her mind. Just like the timbre of his voice, its tone and cadence, it was something she adored. Sometimes she was just content listening to his voice over the phone. She sure was a sucker for voices and accents and in particular for his, but he didn't have to know or else his already big head would inevitably get bigger. There was something to be said about he pronounced certain things, he sometimes made her squeal internally just by doing that, or how his voice would drop a couple of octaves when they talked about certain things, mainly how they missed each other, that made her all tingly inside.

"Not much…" she breathed and looked around the room, eyeing her half-open suitcase and the clothes she had laid out for tomorrow on a chair in the corner of the hotel room. The TV was running in the background, the volume muted. "You?"

"Drivin' te the next gig," he replied and she heard him yawn.

"Tired?"

"A bit knackered. Yeah. Had two of them double espressos from Starbucks already, still dead on me feet," he said tiredly. His voice sounded a bit breathy there, probably because he was suppressing another yawn. She could now hear the soft swish-swish of traffic in the background of their conversation.

"Can't someone else take over the driving then?" she asked, rolling on her back, feeling a surprising amount of worry stir up inside her. That and the dreadful thought of him wrapping his rental around a tree or something equally awful.

"My suitcase arrived last. I sent the others on their way. Didn't want te be a bother."

Of course. That was Steve for you in a nutshell. The thought made her feel something tender flare inside of her, its feathery little tendrils spreading right to her heart, but at the same time it made her feel a tiny bit resentful.

"So you decided to be even less of a 'bother' and kill yourself discreetly in a car crash, am I right? Let me get this straight. Are you seriously driving around in a rental, when you basically need to glue your eyelids open? You're such an idiot, Steve!" There was a considerable amount of reproach and sarcasm in her voice now, which was really hard to miss. You'd have to be stupid not to hear it and he certainly wasn't. You'd also have to be stupid to miss the concern hidden underneath her words. There was quite a lot of it to go around. Faced with those realizations his choices were limited in terms of reactions now. He could either laugh it off or let the conversation become all serious. He chose to laugh it off. He was tired and driving to the next gig. There was no room for seriousness.

"Oi, sweetheart! Careful…" he chuckled.

"Careful?" she spluttered. "Why the heck should I be careful? You'd better be careful, because it's true, you're an idiot. A polite and adorable one, but still an enormous idiot…"

"Right. Grand. Tank ye kindly, luv," he said and she could just picture his face, his lips pursed and his eyebrows drawn together over blue eyes that tried hard not to look amused.

"OK, doofus," she sighed. "How long you gotta drive for?"

"We've got the next gig in Pittsburgh. Should be… a little under two hours." Her eyes automatically fell on her colourful pink plastic wristwatch resting on the bedside table. So up until midnight, she concluded. Okay, so she'd stay up until midnight, she decided, or however long it would take for him to drive over to his next gig.

"OK, so this is going to be a long phone call..."

"But-"

"Don't dare to finish that sentence, Farrelly."

"All right, but don't ye-"

"And neither this one. Any sentence with a 'but' in it is off limits as off right now..."

He sighed. "All right then."

So she spent the next two hours trying to keep him awake. She figured in order to do that she needed to come up with some interesting stories, so she resorted to telling him stuff about her childhood and youth she had never told anyone. Like for instance that time when her mom had been very angry with her. True, there were numerous occasions to choose from, but she was thinking off one in particular. She had pulled one of her usual stunts like breaking an expensive vase or drawing with a piece of red crayon on some expensive wallpaper, frankly she didn't remember which of the above she had done anymore, just that her mom had been really pissed off. She remembered her being really, really, really scary when she was pissed, by the way. All those angry glances and reproachful words. And because she had been that afraid of her mom's reaction, she had packed her small, little, kiddie-suitcase with nothing else but two apples and left. Her mom had had to search her all over the neighbourhood. She had eventually found her hiding under the neighbour lady's bed, a nice elderly woman who always gave her candy. Over her relief of finding her daughter again, her mom had actually forgotten she had been angry with her in the first place. So all was forgiven. Her mom had even laughed about her packing only two apples in her suitcase. To her surprise Steve chuckled too at that story and spoke some soft words of reassurance and just like that shared a story of his own.

He told her how he and his sister had once tried to investigate whether gum was really that hard to get out of hair. It had turned out it was which had resulted in him getting an impromptu buzz cut and his sister having to chop off her hair to chin-length bob, not to mention all those tears.

She surprisingly got a little foggy eyed when inadvertently let it slip, at a later point of their conversation, that he had been too poor to afford a lot of wrestling action figures as a kid and even more so when she realized that he had lived in a house crowded with lots of other people, apart from his family, probably some sort of social housing thing. But she never said anything or let him know about her little epiphany concerning him. He wouldn't appreciate her pitying him. So the only thing that happened was that the tone of her voice grew a little softer and the tender feeling in her chest a little more intense.

The two hours flew by. She was actually surprised and deep down a little disappointed when he said "All right, pullin' inte the parkin' lot of the hotel now…"

"Wow! Really? Already? Did we really just spend two hours on the phone?" she asked.

"I guess we did," his soft laughter was music to her ears. Finally that swish-swish of traffic in the background was gone. The line was completely silent for a couple of seconds. "Thanks ye fer keepin' me company, luv," he said eventually, his voice heavy and gravelly with emotions.

"You're welcome," she said, following up that sentence with a sigh that did little to lessen her own emotionality. She laughed at herself quietly.

"God! Again with being pathetic little losers... Can you please tell me why it is that I kind of don't want you to hang up right now?" she told him rubbing her forehead with the back of her hand, feeling a little embarrassed.

A pause. "No idea. Probably because I feel the same."

"See?" she laughed and twirled a bit of her hair around her index finger. "Two total losers. That's what we are."

He laughed softly. "Yeah… But ye should go te sleep now, luv, ye've got an early start tomorrow."

"Okay," she replied but still didn't hang up. "Stay safe, okay?"

"I'll try my best. Now switch off that light an' get under those covers."

"I wish you could be here…"

"So do I. Believe me…"

"Yeah…" _I love you_ her brain supplied gently and she could barely resist saying it at that point, but she wouldn't. Not like that over the phone. It didn't seem right. So she just said "Good night" instead.

* * *

This time around it was Ally who had to tell him she wouldn't be able to make it to Tampa to meet him on the weekend. They were in New York doing all sorts of promotional work for the company, like an appearance at a morning show, where she was supposed to show the presenters some Zumba moves and a live class at a popular gym.

When she came back to the hotel, the guy behind the reception gave her a strange smile like he knew something she didn't when he slid the key card of her room over the polished marble counter. She was still shaking her head over that strange smile when she rode up to her floor in the elevator. Opposite of her there was a mirror. She looked at it, tilting her head a little to the right as she regarded her appearance. She was wearing leggings, high-top sneakers, a shredded tank top of some 90s rock band and black jacket with glittery applications on the back. The whole look was rounded off by a baseball cap that said New York in bold green letters and covered her blonde hair that had been coated in several layers of hairspray for the TV show, so it stayed curly and didn't revert to its natural somewhat straight state. It cascaded over her shoulders and the emerald tips set off nicely against the black glossy fabric of the jacket. Oddly enough she drew a certain confidence and security from the whole getup because she had run around like that for the better part of her career as a dancer. Well, minus the hair. Next time her hair got wet, those damn curls would be gone and she couldn't really say she was sorry about that. She looked like Sa-ah-ah-aaaaah-ndy (cue John Travolta's high-pitched, falsetto singing of the name) from _Grease_.

She strode down the corridor to her room, looking forward to a hot bath and a night stretched out on that comfortable, big bed she had only briefly seen when she had checked in this morning at a fairly ungodly hour. Having fumbled around a little with the key card, she finally managed to get the light under the door handle to turn green and the door swung open. To her surprise the room was lit and a key card was already sticking in the black card slot behind the door. Maybe housekeeping had forgotten it.

Then she heard the TV. She froze, as she heard a movement and already started digging around in her purse for her pepper spray. She let out a little Xena-style, battle cry when she came face to face with a redheaded giant who was slightly towering over her and looked oddly familiar and peaceable.

"Fuck!" she swore and leaned back against the wall behind her, clutching her chest. "You almost gave me a freaking heart attack!"

"Surprise," he said sheepishly, noticing her alertness and the way she was breathing so heavily.

"You can damn well say that again," she huffed and pushed off the wall to stand in front of him and give his chest a gentle shove.

"Is that a proper way te say 'hello' te yer boyfriend?" he asked with a teasing grin on his face and held his arms at his side.

"'Hello' would have almost been this," she reached inside her purse and produced a small can of pepper spray, which he regarded with mild interest.

He shrugged. "Yeah, well, that would have probably stung a wee bit, I reckon."

"Really? That's all you got?" She shook her head. "You're such a maniac," she growled good-naturedly and started giggling when he pulled her close by gathering a fistful of her top.

"That's all ye gotta say, lass? I jus' flew hundreds of miles jus' te see ye, girlie. I was countin' on a bit of a different reaction…"

"What? You didn't like the old pepper-spray-welcome? What did you want instead? A kick in the balls?" she smirked at him. His face was pretty close to hers now and she saw him cringe at her kick-in-the-balls comment, but he was still moving closer, not letting that particular mental image deter him too much, which was quite commendable actually. Automatically her voice became lower. It was her way of rewarding him for his bravery and he seemed to be enjoying himself, because his eyes sparkled in amusement when she spoke on. "Wait. I got it. You were in for the old-baseball-bat-over-the-head routine, right?"

"No, not quite," he grinned.

"Damn! I thought I had it. Sorry. Let me think," she put her hand on his chest, squinting her eyes closed in concentration. He watched her with a patient little smirk on his face, willing to indulge her for a moment. "Wait… Yeah, I think I got it now. That stuff wasn't extreme enough for you, right? You're used to that from work already, huh? So what? Did my little S&amp;M-boyfriend want to get Tasered?" she cooed. They were playing their little game again now. She enjoyed provoking him to the point where he'd give in and either kiss her senseless or tickle her until she'd gasp for breath.

It looked like she was onto something there. He threw her a little lopsided grin, which was really promising. "Naw. Ye into that sort a shite?"

"What do you take me for? No! Ewwwww!" she mockingly shuddered.

"Good. Me neither. An' jus' fer the record… with me pale skin that's not such a good idea," he joked.

"What?" she laughed incredulously. "Already made some experiences there?"

"Not really. Unless being whipped with a belt by an angry Ex-Olympian counts…"

Her eyes bulged and she shook her head. "You're really an odd guy, you know…."

"Yeah, but ye like that about me, don't ye, lass?"

"Lemme think… Not sure. Jury's still out on that one," she giggled, her eyes alternating between his lips and his sparkling blue eyes.

"How about a little póg right about now?"

"Póg?"

"Jaysus, lass! A kiss. Ye need me te draw ye a bleedin' picture? Yer some sorta rubbish girlfriend." His words were disgruntled, but his voice was not. He snipped his index finger against the shield of her cap, tipping it back somewhat in the process. He was leaning in like he was about to claim that kiss he had talked about.

"Rubbish girlfriend, huh? Gee, thanks. Suddenly not interested anymore…" She made a move as if to get away from him, but his arms trapped her between him and the wall behind her. Her heart rate sped up in delight. They had entered the next phase of their little game. Things were getting interesting.

"Ah-ah-ah. No. Ye stay right where ye are."

"No? So what? I'm your prisoner now?"

"Yup."

"Dream on, freckles."

He laughed and lightly hit the back of his hand against her base cap. It flew back and landed on the floor. He grinned at her smugly.

"Hey! I liked that cap," she said, trying to sound disgruntled while she suppressed a laugh.

"Oh, feckin' 'hey' yerself!" he said and leaned down to kiss her.

After not seeing him for so long, it was awkward at first and made her heart race. Awkward, but familiar. The way his whiskers tickled her upper lip, the soft, appreciative humming noises he made when her arms pulled him tighter. She grinned against his lips and let out a little enthusiastic squeal when he lifted her up against his chest.

The kiss was short, but sweet. She pulled back a little, with her feet still dangling several inches over the ground and looked at his face. He was smiling at her, that smile reaching his intense blue eyes that held no trace of sadness whatsoever. They were also unguarded and shining with affection. Suddenly giving him an attitude or teasing him seemed childish and uncalled for.

He placed her down on her own two feet again, but she did not let go of him yet, so he remained slightly hunched forward and his face was on level with hers. There was a questioning look on it for a second, but it disappeared when she clarified the situation right up for him by leaning in and kissing him again. Her lips were gentle, as they slowly moved against his; occasionally they opened just a fraction before her warm breath would fan against his mouth, like an addition caress. Sometimes her tongue would flick against his bottom lip. Barely there, just the lightest touch, just enough for him to register. The kiss was enticing and yet again in a way innocent because it never grew deeper.

When eventually she pulled back, it took him by surprise. He felt strangely dizzy, which was odd, because physically not a lot of things left him dizzy. He blinked a couple of times, shaking his head. Strange, how kissing her always had this pleasant buzz that was guaranteed to go straight to his head.

She giggled softly and he saw the light flush on the bridge of her nose. Her eyes were sort of unfocused too and her pupils big and dark, almost eclipsing the green colour of her irises. She took a step towards him and slung her arms around him. As they were standing like that, she casually slipped her hands in the back pockets of his jeans and pressed her nose against the front of his sweater. He was taller than her by a couple of inches, but not in way that he was towering over her in an intimidating way. In fact she thought that it was nice, how he could rest his chin on her head and press his nose into her hair if he wanted to. She sighed. He could feel the gust of hot air through the material of his sweater.

The romantic atmosphere was destroyed be the soft, protesting murmur of an empty stomach and for once it wasn't his. He chuckled. "Hungry?"

She tilted her head up to look at him, looking adorably embarrassed. "Yeah. Sorry. Didn't get to eat all day."

"Ye wanna head out an' grab a bite then?" he asked.

She grinned. "Yeah, but not in this outfit..."

"Why not? It's nice."

"Yeaaaah, thanks, but no. The hair…" she made a face, grabbed a strand of it and looked at it critically. "Wouldn't hold it against you if started singing _Summer Nights_ at some point of this evening…"

He frowned. "_Summer Nights_?"

"Don't tell me you don't know _Grease_…" A blank look. "Really? Oh my Gosh! Your sisters were apparently slacking. Like totally slacking…"

"Wait, _Grease_… Is it the one where Travolta sings?" he wrinkled up his nose in distaste. "Yeah. No. Not me cuppa. Travolta only started matterin' te me when he did _Pulp Fiction_, sorry."

While they continued having their conversation, he started to get ready, reaching for his own baseball cap that he had deposited on the nightstand earlier, and putting it on. Despite his distaste for movies where Travolta didn't wield a gun or blow up stuff, she filled him in on the plot of _Grease_ and started getting ready as well. She tied her hair together, slipped on a less obtrusive jacket and retrieved her own baseball cap from the floor. "And then Sandy and Danny get together at the amusement park and there is that famous dance scene and everyone gets their happily ever after," she concluded her summary with an enthusiastic grin and adjusted her cap on her head.

"Fascinatin'," he said ironically, "Now get a move on, luv. Startin' te get hungry too. And we both know how that never ends well…" The words were accompanied by a gentle swat on the behind.

She grumbled something slightly rude under her breath, but suppressed a smile and started walking through the door. Soon they were out on the streets of New York and she couldn't help but be fascinated by the fact that he knew his way around the city quite well. He was even able to suggest a nice Italian place to her, without even having to get out his phone. "The gig life," he told her simply when she asked about it. She nodded and hooked her arm through his with a grin. Her excuse for it? The autumn air was a little crisp and cold and she was spoiled by the mild Florida climate at home. Not that she needed an excuse at this point.

It took her by surprise when they were stopped by fans just outside the restaurant, because so far they had never gotten into contact with them. His supposed stardom had always been rather theoretical to her. Up until this point. They had always been very private, meeting at his place or hers. It hadn't been a conscious decision just that with the little time they had together, they liked to make the most of it and focus on each other. Or maybe she had just been lucky.

The situation was strange. She didn't know what to do with herself, so she sidled off to the side and pretended like the menu of the place was of particularly keen interest to her. Nevertheless curious glances were occasionally thrown in her direction. Steve's fans, two guys in their early twenties, kept eyeing her from time to time, as they chatted with him. It was no wonder they were curious. After all they had happened upon them when Steve and her were just strolling down the street arm in arm. A little more chatting and then the men wanted a picture with Steve. That's where she came into play again. She took the picture, they exchanged a couple of meaningless platitudes and that was that.

She heard the last of their conversation. "Have a nice night out with your girlfriend," the guys saluted him and Steve just said a polite 'thanks', not protesting against the assumption in any way. On the one hand she was glad for that, on the other the stares of the men had made her feel somewhat uneasy.

Eventually she brushed that thought aside and focused on more urgent things like tasty pasta dishes and pizza. She had a passion for spicy food, so she ordered Penne in Arrabbiata sauce and talked Steve into sharing a Pizza Diavola. The quite predictable coughing fit that followed his first bite, the pizza had particularly spicy pepperoncini on it, culminated in a beet-red face and made her shove the bread basket in his direction with a smile.

When he had stopped coughing and taking deep breaths, she told him about what was new with her job. They had made her get twitter to better promote herself and be more accessible to the public because now that she was on those choreography DVDs, that was an issue. She told him how it had taken her forever to take a selfie for that user pic and choose a header. He just smiled at that and nodded like he knew what she was talking about.

The little restaurant Steve had picked, was a nice place. Cosy atmosphere. Small tables, lit by candlelight, everybody kept to themselves, which was relaxing.

"So about that twitter stuff… I'm following you now," she told him casually, taking a sip from her water.

He grinned. "Do ye now?"

"Yeah, just wanted to let you know, I've got my eyes on you now, mister," she gave him the old DeNiro-esque gesture with the two fingers pointing at her eyes first, then at him.

It only made him whip out his own phone with a smirk and after his fingers had danced over the touchscreen, her cellular hummed in the inner pocket of her jacket. She took it out and threw a brief, but also questioning glance at the display, which announced that he was following her too now.

"Ooooooh, cool!" she grinned.

"Yeah, careful though, as nice as twitter is it first, it can be a bit of a pain in the arse sometimes…" he told her with a serious expression on his face.

"Why?"

"Trolls," he said darkly.

"Trolls?" she repeated. "Like those sitting under bridges?"

"Jaysus, luv, really? I honestly have te tell ye what those are?" The little shrug she threw him did indeed confirm that he would have to tell her. "Trolls are mostly ejits who like te spread their negativity all over the net… Like when they follow ye on twitter jus' te tell ye, ye suck."

"Rude…" she frowned.

"Yeah, ye'll get te know them, don't ye fear. Everyone does sooner or later."

"Can't say I'm looking forward to that."

"Well, no one really does… Now will ye excuse me fer a sec? Nature calls an' all that."

"Okay," she said and whipped out her cell phone to check her email while he was gone. Strangely enough she had sixty unopened messages in her inbox. It turned out they were all from twitter, which was strange. She frowned as her eyes flitted over the screen. In the last twenty minutes around thirty people had started following her. Since when was she so popular? That particular mystery was soon cleared up for her. As her gaze skimmed over usernames and icons (some of them showed Steve), it became clear to her, that somehow somebody had put two and two together and found out that there was some connection between her and Steve. Having people following her was kind of nice and flattering. Actually she smiled a little when she received a private message that said: "OMG! You look so cute together" that also included a link to a picture. When she clicked on it, a photo from maybe two hours back of her and Steve walking through the streets of New York arm in arm appeared on her screen. She blinked slowly a couple of times, feeling a little stunned and amazed.

The next message, however, left her with a sinking feeling in bit of her stomach. "Stay away, bitch. He's mine."

What? She frowned. More messages piled in.

"So cute!"

"Cutest couple ever!"

"All the best. XOXO"

"OMG! It's Alexa Bliss and Sheamus!"

"Love your hair."

"Filthy slut…"

Woah! She lowered her phone. The seat across from her was still empty. Her eyes worriedly searched for him and soon found him talking to some waiter over there. Apparently Steve's sweet tooth was acting up again. He was pointing at a tasty looking chocolaty dessert enticingly put on display behind glass. Under normal circumstances this sight would have made her smile, but now it made her feel conflicted. There still was this warm feeling inside of her, the one that had become familiar to her and she almost expected to unfurl whenever she looked at him, but now it was tinged with what? With discomfort? Confusion?

She got out of her chair, suddenly feeling the need for fresh air. Her eyes became fixed on the exit and she nearly collided with a waiter as she briskly walked towards her destination. She wasn't aware of it, but Steve was watching her and instantly lost interest in dessert, actually his conversation with the waiter broke off midsentence at that point. With a frown he looked over at their table, trying to determine whether she had ran out on him period or just wanted to catch a breath of fresh air. Since her purse and her cap were still there he assumed the latter was true. Now for the hard part: Should he follow her?

* * *

_Only one more chapter to go! Let me know whether you like this or nor... In other words: Please review!_


	12. Smart People

Outside Ally was leaning against the red brick wall of the restaurant. She was not standing directly out front, but a little to the side, around the corner. She needed a little time away from people. A nice, little slice of solitude as she tried to slow down her breathing. She could actually see that her efforts weren't paying off since the bluish clouds of her exhales in the cold night air came with increased frequency like the smoke of a signal fire.

"Kind of famous," she scoffed internally. Those had been his words when he had first told her about him being a WWE superstar. She hadn't known what to make of it back then, actually she had been sort of naïve, but now, now she was beginning to understand what that meant. Also she began to understand why he had occasionally been so pensive and closed off before. Maybe he had known that sooner or later this point would have to come - the fork in the road where she would have to decide which way to go. It would have only popped up as soon as she would have become aware of the full extent of his situation, which was right about now.

She tipped back her head and just looked up at the night sky which was this vast dark tapestry spread out far above her head. No stars. Pollution and all that. In spite of the lack of astronomical objects, she kept staring up into the sky. Her mind was just as blank as that dark above her, conflicting feelings battling in her chest.

She heard the shuffle of feet on the pavement and turned her head towards the source of the sound. Steve stopped, rubbed his hands together and blew out a breath. He tugged his baseball cap a little further in his face. His shoulders were hunched and his hands disappeared in his pockets. For a couple of seconds they just stood across from each other wordlessly until he decided to come closer and lean back against the brick wall next to her.

"Cold, innit? So what are ye out here fer?" he asked eventually.

"I needed air," she replied after a couple of moments had trickled by in which she could feel his eyes resting on her profile. She turned her head and instantly his gaze connected with hers. Shaded under the rim of his cap his eyes held a soft, but slightly worried expression and her heart ached a little at the sight of it. She wanted to close the distance between them, wrap her arms around him and bury her nose in that dark blue wool sweater of his that made him look rough and somewhat like a sailor. She found herself wanting to inhale the scent clinging to the fabric that would be a mixture of fabric softener, cologne and Steve. It would be the best she could do under the circumstance. It would comfort her and him. Two birds with one stone.

Or she could just run off into the night and be done with this messy situation... Maybe. No! No, not an option. Her heart clenched something fierce, almost painfully at the thought. Actually there was nothing to decide anymore. Being with him came with a lot of good stuff and also with some bad stuff, some of which she was probably not aware yet, but it was too late to run. Definitely too late.

She pushed herself off the wall and took a few unsteady steps that let her stand right in front of him. Still they had not said a thing to each other, other than those two opening sentences. So it came as a surprise to him, when she pushed forward without much pretext and wrapped her arms tightly around his muscular frame. The gesture was emotionally charged and it let him think twice about making a joking comment now, so instead he stayed quiet and just enfolded her in his embrace.

Her head was tucked under his chin. He could feel her warm breath tickling his skin where it softly blew against the collar of his sweater. Her fingers flexed and dug a little more into the fabric, her chest rose and fell with deep and somewhat unsteady inhales and exhales. Whatever was going on right now, she needed to be close to him, needed the physical reassurance of his presence. He smiled softly and pulled her further into his chest until it seemed she was moulded right against it.

"I got ye, luv," he told her softly and his voice was all low and gravely and made her think of stupid romantic things like cold winter nights and warm flames in a fireplace. She briefly, but clearly felt the imprint of his lips on top of her head; her cap was still inside resting on the back of her empty chair. "Ye wanna tell me what's wrong?"

She moved in his arms and looked up at him. "You're only going to get mad…" she said eventually and lowered her head again to take comfort in his embrace. It reassured her on so many levels. Just the strength and the steady weight of his arms around her was enough. All she needed was the regular ba-boom-ba-boom of his heart under her ear and the rise and fall of his chest and she would be all right. He seemed so real and normal, not some kind of celebrity people went nuts about. He was just this guy. This really great, down-to-earth, funny, sweet, caring guy… And she lo… she liked him a lot. More than liked him. And why couldn't people just leave them alone?

"Afraid I'm a gonna trash the whole place if ye tell me, huh?" he lightly nudged her head with his and she let out a little snort-like sound that seemed to say 'Oh, please!' He chuckled softly. "Yeah, right. I fergot yer all clever an' got me figured out. Not the sort te trash nice pizza joints obviously."

"No," she replied, the sound of her voice somewhat muffled because she was still pressing her nose against his chest.

"So what's goin' on? It's fine if ye don't wanna-"

"I want to."

"So?" He was waiting for her to say something and she didn't want to leave him hanging.

"How can you stand it?" she asked eventually.

His eyes narrowed in incomprehension. "Stand what?"

"People being rude… And always butting in on your business?"

He briefly pulled back to look at her. He was worried, he could tell. His eyes were stormy and kept flitting over her face. It was as if he was checking her for injuries, but the only injuries she carried would have not been visibly to the eye. They were on the inside.

"Ye've gotta learn te have a thick hide. A bit like an elephant…"

"So the rude stuff doesn't get to you? Like at all?" she asked. A little crease had now formed between her eyebrows. It always appeared when she was surprised by something or had a hard time wrapping her mind around a particular concept.

"No…" he briefly hesitated, "It still does. Jus' not like it used te at ferst," he told her softly.

She could only fathom what it must have been like for him in the beginning, being under the eye of the public. He was a private person, very guarded in some respects, as she had learned in the last couple of weeks. He was decent, in an almost old-fashioned way. His manners seemed oddly misplaced and exaggerated sometimes, but he refused to change. So he had become the sort of guy that would hold a door for you and the next minute crack a self-effacing joke about it. In fact he had once joked about that one time he had held the door for some elderly lady at the mall and he had ended up standing there for five minutes because people didn't have manners anymore and mistook him for the "fecking" doorman.

He was the type of guy who just wanted to keep some things to himself and not share them with everyone else. He had opinions, he could get angry and disgruntled, but most of the time he didn't get too outspoken about them, only when his temper got the better of him and then he always made sure he didn't hurt anybody with his words. So people being spiteful and mean on purpose would definitely be something that would irk him and maybe even disappoint him somewhere deep, deep down. Because it wasn't a philosophy he lived by. Never would.

"Gets te me though when it hurts ye," he rumbled. His words ripped her out of her thoughts concerning him and his wellbeing and made her aware that his mind must have been focused on similar concerns. Only that he had been worried about her. "What did they say?" he asked.

She hesitated for a moment, then shook her head. "Just… Stupid stuff. Didn't even make sense…"

"Are ye gonna be all right?"

"Yes," she sighed. "I think I am."

"Good. OK. Ah'll tell ye somethin' that makes sense..." She looked up at him expectantly.

"How about we head back in there…" he pointed over his shoulder at the restaurant, "an' we treat ourselves to a nice big plate full of that Tiramisù I saw? Sound like a plan, sweetheart?"

"Yeah," she flashed him a bright smile and she was just about to turn around and walk away, but that would have meant she would have missed the best part.

"Ally?" He laced his fingers through hers, his skin rough and warm, keeping her anchored and from walking away.

"Yes?" Her eyes were big and she looked confused, like she didn't know what more he could possibly want to say to her at this point.

"Jus' so ye know… When it comes te the things I can protect ye from, I always will. I'll be right there. No questions asked. I hope ye know that…" He said those words without hesitance. They poured right out of him, because they were spontaneous, but therefore all the more genuine. He really felt like that about her and it was important for him to let her know what with the way his eyes racked over her features.

And just like that he had taken her breath away. She blinked a couple of times, because unexpectedly her sight had become somewhat misty and she snivelled a little. Once again she felt sure that deciding against running had been a good idea. 'Tell him, you love him', her mind screamed at her. But this night had already been too much. Too much had happened. And she felt too exhausted to deal with the issue of whether he'd say those words back at her or not at this point, so she just nodded and kissed him before they went inside and helped themselves to a huge, actually decidedly massive slice of Tiramisù.

* * *

Ally was sitting at the airport waiting for her gate to be announced. Steve had had to leave earlier in the day; she had accompanied him to the airport, because her flight back to Tampa would be up only two hours later than his. Now, thanks to what had happened before, she was very self-conscious about their every move in public. She wouldn't just reach for his hands with the easiness of the early days again. There were some things to be considered, like people watching and the negative repercussion that could potentially come about because of an impulse display of affection.

Problems weren't resolved with chocolate, not even with a delicious slice of Tiramisù. They were talked over, reconsidered, maybe solved at a later point… or maybe not. Ally knew how problems worked. If anything she was a problem solver. Hell, at some point in her life she had even announced that she liked problems because she liked figuring them out. So perhaps this was the universe showing its infinite sense of humour because it had given her the mother-load of all problems to figure out it. Admittedly she was being dramatic here. There were bigger problems than her love life, but it still was a big problem, because it mattered to her.

Everybody likes to claim they're complicated and maybe everybody is complicated in their own right. Or maybe we just make ourselves complicated.

She blew out a breath and placed the magazine she had been reading on top of her traveling bag next to her. She could as well give up the pretence of reading now. It was hard to concentrate on it anyway. She regretted not even having given him a kiss goodbye at his gate now. The look in his eyes had been disappointed and a little sad, but disquietingly understanding, like he had just resigned himself to the fact that things would be like that.

But they didn't have to be, she thought. She didn't want them to be and yet… Yet his advice of growing a thick hide was easier said than done. Her eyes wandered over the people sitting opposite of her, varying age groups, ethnicities and genders, most of them focused on the phone in their hands. _Smartphones – stupid people_? When that slogan popped up in her head, involuntarily the corners of her mouth curved up a little.

Steve had told her that when that incident with his phone had happened and he had tried to get in touch with her without having her number, he hadn't been able to trace her down online. That was because she didn't exist online as a private person. Or at least she didn't let people see the real her there. Her profile on Facebook was used for professional purposes only, as was her newly acquired twitter account. Getting involved with that world, exposing yourself to the continuous judgement of others, the "likes", the "retweets" and whatnot, it was like stepping out on a balcony naked and asking people walking by what they thought about your body. Even not knowing her way around online that much, she was aware of that.

But the one thing she didn't quite get was the negativity. Tearing someone down just because you could? There didn't seem to be a logical explanation for that. Whenever she tried to comprehend it and make sense of that sort of behaviour, she always came up with unsatisfactory explanations. Was it that people were insecure, unhappy and in need to reassure themselves by belittling others? Could that really be it? There was even a worse alternative: People were intrinsically mean…

No, she didn't want to believe that. At least she could say about herself that she didn't want to spread negativity. She did her job, actually she did everything she did, because she wanted to achieve exactly the opposite. She liked people smiling and sometimes, just sometimes, she could help to bring out that smile when someone came to one of her dance classes. It didn't even have to be during her job. It could just be a trivial situation, like when she asked a stranger, maybe the stressed out person behind the cash register at the supermarket, how she was doing and offered her a smile. Making other people smile, making them happy, that seemed to be what this life was about. She was all about spreading positivity and lifting others up, not putting them down just to feel better. At any rate the satisfaction of seeing someone smile, because of putting that smile there was infinitely greater. At least to her.

She blew out a breath and squared her shoulders. Crisis averted? Not that easily. But this was the marching direction this was going to take. She would stay true to herself. She would not let other people put her down. They had tried before. All too well, she could remember those numerous auditions she had gone to back when she was still an active dancer. Some had ended up with her being hired, others with her being turned down. Thinking back, she could still remember almost every single one of those reasons she hadn't been taken on, because all of them had stung and all of them had been personal.

"Too uncontrolled, too run-of-the-mill, too impulsive…" She had taken that criticism and after initially beating herself up over it, turned it into something else: a motivation that urged her on, a reason to get better at what she was doing.

Now this situation here was similar and yet different. She couldn't change anything about it by altering her behaviour. The only thing she could change was her attitude towards the whole situation. Whether she would succeed in doing that was a whole, other question, but she at least owed it to Steve and her to try. What she had thought numerous times now and had not yet but it into proper words, those multiple "I love yous" she had mentally directed his way, weren't any less true now than they had been before that all happened. Probably only more so…

* * *

She had tried to prepare dinner for him. But she really shouldn't have. She was somewhat out of practise when it came to cooking those grand, big dinners. She had experience with fish, chicken and vegetables, healthy food. But big traditional dinners? Roasts and stuff? Not so much.

So she cursed when blood was trickling down her arm. She was pressing a kitchen towel to her index finger. She pealed it away for a second, her breath coming in small and fast buffs from her mouth, while she fought down the pain. She let a little water run over the cut, it wasn't deep, but she was bleeding a lot. Footsteps behind her, steady hands on her shoulders, his deep, smooth and comforting voice in her ear. The thought that she would be all right turned into certainty.

Soft touches on her wrists, the kitchen towel was carefully removed, the sting of disinfectant, a bandage that slowly wound itself around her index finger. She wasn't looking at it. She was staring at his face with a mesmerized expression. The light was falling in through the kitchen window. It was late in the afternoon on a Saturday. The warm rays of the Tampa sun let tiny specks of dust dance in the air and hit his pupils in a way that made them seem like really pale sapphires. He didn't notice her staring. He was too preoccupied with wrapping up the cut. And it gave her some time to absorb this little moment of clarity she was experiencing.

It had nothing to do with eyes that did nice sparkly things in the light and everything to do with what his presence made her feel. He cracked some little joke of which she only heard half, but smiled at nevertheless. She finally understood now. It had taken her some thirty plus years to work out why love was a many splendour thing, actually she understood why contrite lyrics to love songs worked now. It was because on occasion people really felt like that. Like she was feeling right now when she was staring into his face with a look of awe on hers. The sort of look that sweeps over your features when you realize that the person opposite of you does something for you no one else can do. Her finger was throbbing with pain, but she didn't care as long as he was there. His reassuring voice didn't make the pain magically disappear, his touch didn't have mythical healing powers, he was probably not even doing such a brilliant job patching her up, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that she felt better when he was there, like when the air in a room is stuffy and you open a window and a fresh breeze sweeps over your skin.

He had by now finishing wrapping up her index finger. "There," he said. And she felt a feeling well up inside her again, which as the seconds ticked by became more solid and profound and turned into something that could be expressed in words. But for a moment she faltered uttering those words. They were terrorizing and by the looks of it they would finally come out and she would be the first to say them when everyone, fashion magazines, TV shows, the Internet, yes, everyone told her that the woman shouldn't go first, because it just wasn't right. And for a moment she believed that too and then there was that urge to tell him again, especially when he inclined his head a little to the right, regarding her with a curious expression.

"Ye all right, luv?" he asked.

She licked her lips. Instead of a nonverbal answer like a nod or maybe a simple 'yes', she said: "I love you." Actually she more or less breathed those words out. And then time was suspended and seemed longer than normal as she waited for his reaction. His eyes seemed to flash for a moment, but eyes never really flash, so maybe they just widened for a second as he took in the meaning of her words. He smiled briefly and the movement of his lips was a little unsure, before they opened and he blew out a breath. He rubbed the back of his head, looked at the floor, looked up again and when their eyes met, it felt like a jolt of electricity running through her. He took a step closer and they were already standing close. His palms gently pressed against her cheeks as he leaned down to meet her eyes. He wasn't joking now and he was nearly always joking, except for those rare occasions when a sombre mood struck him and when he was quiet and almost melancholic. The tips of his fingers were a little cold. He was breathing a little faster now. He licked his lips and took a deep breath.

"I love ye." It was a little mumbled confession and made him laugh at himself and shake his head. He tried again, louder this time, "I love ye", though she had heard him loud and clear the first time around. And no matter how much he might have botched that confession of love by anybody else's standards, maybe even his own, she loved him all the more for it, because he had been brave about it and not hid behind a façade when he had said it or turned it into one of those teasing little games they both loved to play.

She brought her own hand up to his face and caressed her fingers along his jaw line. For a moment his eyes closed like those of a cat that curls up purring in front of the fireplace. She nuzzled his face with her own as his arms slowly wrapped around her waist. If she could, she would have melted into him right now. "Steve," she sighed his name into his ear. The exhale on which it swam brushed against his ear. His beard pleasantly rubbed against the side of her face as he moved, leaning his forehead against hers. She could hear his breath. Her hands were pressed against his chest. The fabric of his shirt was warm under her fingers. Through it she could feel the thudding of his heart. It beat quite fast and reassured her that this was real.

He gently pressed his lips against hers. The kiss lasted only for a couple of seconds. It was innocent. First kiss material, like the ones you get hiding with a boy in a closet playing games at a school friend's birthday party. Nevertheless she shuddered from the intensity of it when he pulled back. But he didn't get that. He didn't get that it was one of those pleasant shudders. Not the ones you get when a cold draft sweeps up your exposed neck. The ones you get when you wrap a soft blanket around you after a long, hard day or sink down into a warm tub.

He pressed another kiss to the corner of her mouth. "Sorry, I botched this up real bad," he whispered. "I wanted te do better. I had this perfect moment all planned out in me head fer a while now. There was candlelight an' flowers, instead of gauze an' disinfectant."

She laughed softly. "It's all right. Goes with the overall theme of us, doesn't it? We've been doing dating wrong since the start, so why not this as well? And who's to define wrong anyway?"

"Yeah, yer right," he kissed her one more time, this time a little more lingering, with a tiniest fraction of more reassurance.

"This isn't," she reassured him. "This certainly isn't."

He laughed softly. "God, I love ye!" it broke out of him. Now she had known he was a passionate man. He was driven, disciplined and ambitious; you just needed to look at his body to see that. But most of a time he let that passion simmer, now it broke out of him. She felt his hands on her sides lift her up a little and she reacted by winding her legs around his waist and her arms around his shoulders. Their mouths pressed together and opened almost simultaneously. A tingling sensation spread from the tips of her hair to her toes when his tongue brushed against hers. The removal of clothes was an inevitable and natural progression from that point and because they were in the way like they had been so often before.

They took their time with everything, although they never found the time to make it all the way to the bedroom. They ended up stranded on his couch. His fingers glided over her skin, alternating between greedy touches and soft caresses. But soon touching her wasn't enough for him anymore.

Her head fell back on the cushions of the couch as he pressed his lips to her skin, his tongue lashing out briefly to taste her. Her body quivered underneath his thanks to the mixture of sensory information and emotions sweeping over her. She felt like she was floating. They slowly and reverently exchanged caresses, touches and kisses, always wanting to be closer to each other. Things naturally progressed from there and grew more intense. Soon her fingers were squeezing his shoulder as he slowly moved above her while he was gazing down into her face. He alternated between kissing her and whispering sweet things to her that made her heart ache and would have seemed ridiculous and over the top in her own ears only hours earlier, but now made her melt little by little.

After each kiss he would always pull back, if only for a second, to cast a look upon her face, which didn't feel like an intrusion, in fact when their eyes met, it was like another connection was established between them, because she could see what he felt and vice versa. That way the tension built up slowly until neither of them could stand it any more. Their release snuck up on them, although they knew it was coming. His fingers flexed and intertwined more tightly with hers, while the rest of their bodies tensed. It was a moment of accidental and perfect symmetry. Or maybe they had helped to construct this outcome with touches, looks and caresses. Maybe they had been supposed to end up at this point all along.

Later when they still lay naked on the couch as their heart rates slowed down to a normal pace, only a blanket swept over them, he would toy with strands of her hair and she would turn her head and smile at him. She had figured out what this was. It was something worth holding on to and fighting for with everything she had.

* * *

**Author's note:** Thank you to my wonderful beta UntiNeverDawns! Always a pleasure working with you, my dear. And a big thank you to kristal farrelly and all you other Sheamus enthusaists out there for reading this story.

Please let me know what you think about the story and its final chapter on your way out.


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