I know this may be unpopular because it's an Ann/Paul oneshot, but here goes anyway. And the idea did receive some support on Tumblr, and in this Ann genuinely thinks Martin has cheated on her first. Set after/during One Night Stand before they know what really happened in Bruges.
The first time she kisses him-stretches up to his height, her hands on his shoulders, and presses her lips briefly but firmly to his- he does not accept it unquestioningly. Standing there, with her in his sitting room, he is the one who hesitates. She has to admit that this surprises her a great deal; after all, hasn't he always been suggesting, in so many words, that they do this? It doesn't hurt her, exactly, but it very much surprises her as his hands on her sides steady her balance a little and he looks at her curiously.
"Ann," he asks her carefully, "It's not that I'm not flattered. But are you sure that you know what you're doing?"
"I'm not on the rebound," she assures him quite earnestly.
"I'm not asking that," he tells her quietly, slowly, clearly, "Ann, I don't mind if this is just something quick for you. But I do mind if it's going to be something quick that you'll regret."
Tenderly, as she never imagined Paul would, he plants a quick kiss on her forehead and she feels her shoulders sag as she relaxes a little. She had not realised up until that moment just how wound up she'd been. As she moves, his hands grasp her sides a little more securely to support her.
"What about Martin?" he questions.
"What about him?" she asks, a little gruffly.
"What do you think?" he replies, "What is happening between you and him at the minute?"
"What do you think is happening?" she asks him, her sarcasm lacking its usual quirky cheer.
"As much as I hate to worsen my chances, do you not think there might have been some kind of misunderstanding?" he asks her.
"Do you think I haven't asked myself that?" she replies, "Over and over again, I've asked him over and over again, and still he admits it, he doesn't chance his story at all, patchy as it is. He was unfaithful to me. I'm not sure what I can misunderstand about that."
"Alright," he tells her, sensing the agitation in her voice, smoothing his hands up and down her sides to calm her, "Alright."
There is a pause. She looks up into his face, watching his expression as he looks back at her.
"Anyway, I've always wondered what this would be like," she confesses.
"What?" he questions, wanting to hear her say it, wanting to make sure he has read her correctly.
"This," she tells him, running her hand down the front of his shirt, reaching up again, pressing her hand gently on the back of his neck and pressing his head down so that his lips could meet hers again, "This."
"Always?" he repeated, surprised.
"Yes," she replied, sighing a little as their lips met again.
"Since the first time we met?" he asked her, as they broke apart a little, her arms draping comfortably around his neck.
"Practically," she replied, "Since the first time you said something terribly inappropriate to me and that charming way of yours."
He smiled in disbelief.
"I thought you never paid any attention to me," he told her.
"I tried not to," she replied, "I tried to not to let you find out."
"And now you're just telling me?" he asked her, "Just like that?"
"Yes," she breathed. She was watching his lips intently, she was not listening to what he was saying.
He kissed her again, this time his lips running away from hers, across her forehead, under the line of her hair. His arms hold her gently and she sighs in contentment.
"Do you want to spend the night here?" he asks her.
She hums ascent against his lips.
"I should be able to fit you up in the spare room."
She laughs harshly and pounds his chest once with her fist. He laughs too and moves him hand to hold hers, rocking her softly where they stand.
"Didn't you once say something about a bath?" she asks him.
He meets her eyes and sees that she is in earnest.
"Possibly," he replies, "What exactly did you have in mind?"
She takes his hand with a truly arresting look that he thought he would never see in her eyes again, particularly not directed at him, and thinks for a moment that there might be something in the suggestion that he is the luckiest man in the world.
"Come on," she tells him quietly, but very confidently, "I'll show you."
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