Checkmate

~Disclaimer: If I owned them, it'd be on the show; no they belong to JJ Abrams. ~

"Make your move." They faced each other across the table, each one's focus divided equally between their opponent and the simply but distinctly carved teak and mahogany chessmen spread before them. "I haven't got all day."

Refusing to be rushed, the reserved young man rubbed his chin with his right thumbnail. Whilst more of the deep russet-brown pieces were off the board than on it, those which remained were collectively more valuable than the more numerous honey. His gaze flicked over the board, following all possible moves and counter-moves. Deciding on a course of attack, he deliberately extended his left hand over the chequered squares towards his king's bishop, when a husky voice in his ear checked his movement.

"I really wouldn't do that if I were you." The lightly accented words were spoken so softly he could barely hear them, despite the fact warm breath was disarranging his careful groomed curls. His fingers hovering motionlessly millimetres over the piece in question, the faceless voice continued.

"You're wondering why you should listen to me, as you're going to checkmate him in ten moves, but…" A pause as the voice moved to his other ear, long hair tickling the back of his neck as it did so. "If you move your queen's rook instead, you'll do it in three."

Considering the unsolicited advice, his lips quirked into a puckish smile and he picked up the rook instead. As he leaned back from the board, a feral grin blossomed on his opponents face as they pounced upon the now undefended piece, a grin that disappeared just as quickly as the young man moved two final pieces and checkmated him.

Muttering about "upstart puppies", the salt-and-pepper bearded man conceded with ill-grace, sparing a single glare over his younger opponent's shoulders.

 "He's not very happy with us." This simple understatement elicited a burst of full-bodied laughter from the young man, which broke off abruptly as the lithe young woman moved into his view, gracefully seating herself in the recently vacated chair. "By the way, I'm Laura."

Clasping the proffered hand and trying to suppress his stomach's attempt to swap places with his heart, the young man managed to reply with "Jack. So, Laura, do you come here often?" He winced inwardly even as he asked this.

While a mischievous glint in her eyes betrayed the fact that she was well aware of his discomfort, the dark-haired girl merely chose to answer, "Every Tuesday afternoon, after my Literature class. I've seen you here before. You're usually leaving just as I arrive."

The familiar motions of setting up the chessboard helped Jack to regain some of his equilibrium, or at least enough to ask a slightly less inane question. "You're obviously a good player, who taught you?"

"My father, he always said you could tell a lot about a person's nature by the way they play chess." Settling the last of the pale chessmen down on its square, she continued with a grin. "And even more from the way they lose. And Jack, I think I'm going to like finding out about your nature."

Fighting to maintain a semi-serious expression, Jack waited until she has made the opening move before responding. "You must be very good if you think you're going to win this game."

Leaning forward on her elbows, she whispered "Did I say we were only going to play one match?"

~Fin~