And do you look into the mirror to remind yourself you're there,
Or have somebody's good-night kisses got that covered.

She'll do it over and over again, not because she wants to but because she needs to. It's pathetic, really, being dependent on someone, especially of all people, him. Him with the charming smile that could bed any girl and the hair that looks like it's never been brushed but each strand brushed into it's place and the eyes that eat away at her skin and she can't help but send a smirk his way and her lips soon follow. And that's probably why it has to be him.

She needs him because when he touches her he's not touching her because he wants something from her, because he wants her to do something for (to) him, but because he wants to give her something, and that she'll do it anyway because of the way he reacts. And when he kisses her he kisses her because he wants to kiss her not because he wants to get into her knickers, even though that's all too often what the result is.

After all, it's always her who initiates. But he always makes the next move, and after those two set plays, highly anticipated by the other, it's a fight for dominance, a battle between the two of them, and neither of them ever win. They'll both end up defeated by each other, lying on their backs, or her collapsed on top of him, slain by the other.

She fights because she wants control, she wants the satisfaction of his cusses and of his jagged breath, she wants the satisfaction of hearing him call her name into the night, but most of all she wants complete control over him, because he's the only thing in her life she can't control.

He fights because he likes the challenge, and she is every aspect of challenge combined into one, he wants the satisfaction of her gasps and of her pants, he wants the satisfaction of her fingernails dragging down his back, but most of all he wants to win the challenge, because she's the only thing in his life he can't defeat, the only thing he can't control.

And then she walks in on him snogging some complete bint and she rolls her eyes with a snort and feels the oh-so familiar jealousy rush over her. Truth is she's jealous of everyone. She's jealous of Hannah and Ginny's looks, of Zach and Michael's ability sheer wit, Granger's brain, and she's especially jealous of whatever her name is who's arms are currently wrapped around his neck and lips pressed against his.

She doesn't cry, funnily enough, she doesn't feel betrayed, or hurt, she just feels jealous. It's just annoying, she wants to feel betrayed or hurt so then she can get the hard part over and done with and just mindlessly hate him. But she can't hate him. That's the whole point. She can't hate him because she needs him.

"I hate you!" she yells, loud enough the entire Great Hall can hear her and she leaves him stuttering in protest. She doesn't, of course, and she has to force her tongue to roll the syllables out of the pit of her stomach. She doesn't want him to explain his actions, put a reason behind each little thing he does. She bites her lip to stop it from trembling, or worst of all having the statement featuring the words 'you', 'I' and 'love' leave her lips. The worst? She's not even the slightest bit angry at him. In fact it's the opposite. She almost feels as if she should be the one begging for his forgiveness.

She turns on her heel and doesn't let him have the last word because she just knows it'll be something that makes her gulp and they'll end up in the exact position they started. The battle. She can help herself around him but she chooses not to. She might need him but she doesn't need to touch him, she just needs to know he's there. And snogging some slag doesn't classify of being 'there'.

"Can we at least talk?"

"Since when do we talk?"

"Stop pretending Bones." He says sharply, and his words slip through her so heavily thought out armour and cut at her like shards of the most broken glass. Her first reflex is to hit him or hex him or kiss him or anything to make him stop talking. She doesn't want to hear the truth she knows is etched in her skin, the truth she tried so bloody hard to hide from him because she the only thing she's ever wanted is control and he's the one standing in her way. But she won't admit to herself that letting go and letting him have control wouldn't be so bad after all.

"Stop pretending you're not angry. Stop pretending you're fine. Stop pretending you don't care. Stop pretending you don't care about me, Bones. Stop pretending I haven't seen you look at me when you think I'm asleep and stop pretending you don't run your hands through my hair and trace my jawline with your thumb. Stop pretending that you don't move to sleep with your head in my chest and all those nights where you come into my room and sleep with me because you're so bloody scared of everything else and get up before I wake up."

"And most of all Susan, stop pretending that you don't know. Stop pretending you don't know I need you just as much as you need me." She lets the words settle in the air and she narrows her eyes at him, on one hand she thinks he's lying but on the other she knows it's the most honest truth. She's full of contradictions, she's full of lies attempting to balance out the truth and vice versa. She goes to wipe her eyes but his thumb picks up the droplet and suddenly he's so close to her and she can't push him away, she can't make him go away but she should because he knows who she really is underneath all the lies and all the hurt and it disgusts her so why doesn't it disgust him?

Then he holds her, her holds her so very tight and so very close and her arms wrap around him, because he needs her just as much if not more than she needs him and for the first time in so very long she lets her armour completely and utterly down and he can see all the truths indented into her skin and he doesn't attempt to kiss them away and pretend they don't exist but he brushes over them with his fingertips because they're beautiful.

He falls asleep with his limbs tangled and intertwined with hers, her hand gripping onto her shirt just where his heart would be and in her sweetest of dreams she can hear his heartbeat thunder against her palm and her fingers sink into the fabric, lost between the realm of 'him' and 'her'. Her breath tickles his neck and in his sleep a laugh escapes underneath his heavy breath. He wonders what she'll say when she wakes up to find his cheeks red and blotchy and his eyes watery and he wonders if she'll ever let those words pass her lips or if she'll stay with him like this forever or if she'll leave and run away and he wondered if he'd fight for her or pretend she was just a girl.

They're just fickle humans with heavy hearts.

And I convince myself I need another,
And for a minute it gets easier to pretend that you were just some lover.

AN: And wow.
That sort of came out of nowhere and I'm really interested in the dynamics of this couple, especially on Susan's side.
Kinda sorta based on Love Is A Laserquest by Arctic Monkeys.
As ususal, I don't own anything, everything belongs to the fantastic JK Rowling and Arctic Monkeys!
Thank you for reading etc etc etc you're all wonderful and lovely especially you!