A/N: The result of gazing at a photo of a certain NXT Champion for a little too long, along with being asked, "Why not write about someone you've never written about before?" Hope you all enjoy.
Nobody Else – Part 1
He would be there soon.
The thought repeated itself throughout the day, starting when she awoke that morning. She'd set her alarm an hour earlier than usual to give her time to do some straightening up around the apartment. New sheets that she'd laundered so they'd be soft and have a pleasant scent were placed on the bed, then the many random things that ended up on her bedside table gathered up and put away. She neatened the closet enough that she could close the door fully. She placed candles here and there, with a lighter nearby. She dusted then swept, starting in the bedroom and ending in the kitchen, where she sipped her tea while clearing off the table. Then she rushed through the living room, throwing the accoutrements of living alone into a basket, which she stowed in the hall closet. A clean throw over the back of the couch, an empty vase for the flowers she'd buy on her way home from work, and she was happy with the result.
She was lucky in that work was just busy enough to keep her from being bored. Time did seem to pass just a bit slower than normal, but at least the clock moved forward. She ate lunch out with coworkers, voiding an afternoon meeting, then filled the spare time with creating her list of things to do once five o'clock arrived.
Clouds were threatening as she left the office and she fretted, increasing her pace to the corner florist. She threw together a bouquet, aware of the darkening sky. Another stop across the street and she had the dessert she'd planned. Buoyant despite the imminent threat of rain, she smiled as she hurried down the sidewalk. She feared traffic would snarl, making a cab ride impossible, so she weaved through the city streets to her building, with plenty of time to spare, managing to dodge the first drops of rain.
Dessert went in the fridge and she started preheating the oven, growing giddy now. He would be there soon. He was already on his flight. Throwing her purse and jacket onto the couch, she turned on some music for company and threw herself into preparations. Steaks on the counter to rest, flowers into the waiting vase, then hot water into the bathtub. A dash of her favorite perfume into the water, foil-wrapped potatoes into the oven, a blend of spices rubbed onto the steaks.
She lolled in the tub for as long as she dared, thinking more than once that she heard her phone go off but enjoying the soak too much to go check. Wrapped in a towel, she began lighting candles. The cast iron pan she only used once in a while was brought out, the thick steaks placed inside it, and then she went to find her phone.
Messages from him. Two voicemails. Smiling, figuring he was as anxious to see her as she was him, she caught an incoming text from him.
Call me.
She did so, going to lower the volume on the music as she waited to be connected.
"I'm so sorry, darling."
Not his usual greeting. Smile slipping, she lowered the heat on the steaks and hurried to the bedroom to dress. "What's wrong?"
"I called twice…" He sighed and she could picture him dragging a hand over his face.
"I was in the tub. I just got out."
"Shit," he groaned. "I'm stuck in… Where the fuck am I?"
She heard a muffled voice on his end, but paid it no mind, heart plummeting to the floor. "Stuck? Why?" she asked stupidly as lightning flashed outside. "Finn…"
"I'm sorry," he said again, sounding just as disappointed as she was. "If I controlled the weather, there would be only sunshine for you."
Her eyes filled with tears. He'd said those same words quite a few times over the course of their relationship. But they were little consolation now, with thunder rumbling and her evening in all likelihood ruined. With his living and mainly working almost a thousand miles away, their times together were few and far between. This visit was going to be almost a week long. The longest time they would be together that didn't include travelling for shows.
"Are you cooking?" he asked.
Shit. The steaks. Darting to the kitchen, she breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing her dinner wasn't burning. She shielded her bare chest with a kitchen towel while flipping them. "Steaks," she answered sadly.
"From that butcher you flirt with?"
The teasing tone he used made her feel a tiny bit better. "He's married with a dozen kids. I think me smiling and telling him that I only eat his meat makes him feel good. You can stop worrying though," she assured, even though she knew he wasn't worried. "He's not my type."
"What is your type? You've never said."
Satisfied that the steaks weren't burned, she covered the pan and turned off the heat. She pretended to ponder his question while going back to the bedroom, gaze landing on the flirty little negligee she'd purchased the week before. With a sigh she tucked it back into her dresser and reached for one of the few t-shirts she'd managed to sneak out of his luggage during his various visits.
"Britt," he called, his lilting brogue giving the shortened version of her name a romantic, musical quality.
"Tall. At least, taller than me. Which isn't hard to be, you know."
"Ah, yes, you are a wee lass."
She rolled her eyes, slipping the shirt over her head. "Physical fitness is a must. The phrase 'washboard abs' has to apply to him. I want someone that won't die if I ask him to go for a run with me."
"That doesn't sound too demanding. Anything else?"
"Oh, the usual. Good with kids and animals, a sense of humor, fun-loving. Sweet, kind, gentle, but able to stand up for himself and the things he believes in. Creative. Protective." Wiping away her tears, she returned to the kitchen to turn off the oven. "Where are you?"
"Someplace called D.C. They're trying to arrange flights for us, but that storm is covering up half the Eastern Seaboard. If we hadn't landed when we did we probably would have been sent further away." He sighed, managing to convey weariness, sadness, and irritation in one brief second. "Tell me more about this perfect man of yours."
Brittany pulled a bottle of wine from the fridge and headed for the couch. She would talk to him as long as she could, drink, then eat her cold steak and binge on shitty horror movies on Netflix. "He has to do his best," she sniffled, "and keep his chin up even when things go wrong."
"Britt, darling, don't—"
"It's not fair, Finn. I haven't seen you in…" She paused, as though she needed to count in her head. "A month. Four weeks, three days, and six hours. Skype and FaceTime don't count."
"I know. It's killing me, too. But don't get upset, please? I'll be there as soon as I can, and we'll enjoy our week together." His tone was soothing. It was also working, damn the man. "Eat your dinner, have some wine, and watch a movie or two. And as soon as I get there, it'll be like this setback didn't happen."
"I made lists," she lamented.
"Love, you always make lists."
"I made more lists than normal, then. Every little thing I had to do to make it a perfect night for you was noted, and I've crossed almost all of them off." The wine sat, unopened, on the coffee table while she wrapped the clean throw around herself.
"What didn't get crossed off?"
"Putting on an expensive little black lace number I got last week, having a cold beer on the table, and turning on our song when you knocked on the door."
"Black… Is that what you were so bubbly about when you said you were shopping?"
She smiled, leaning to turn off the music. "Yes. It's gorgeous. Wait 'til you see it getting tossed over my shoulder."
"You're a fuckin' tease, Britt."
"You're like three hundred miles away from me. I'm allowed to tease."
"Will you model it tomorrow?" His voice had lowered, as though there were the possibility someone could overhear.
"Probably." If she tried to resist, he would only have to give her his hopeful smile and she would cave.
"And you'll greet me with our song?"
"If it'll get you here sooner, I'll greet you naked and on my knees."
There was a long pause and for a panicked second she thought they'd been disconnected. Then, in a rush, he whispered, "I hate you very much right now."
"You do?" She lowered her voice, deciding that a little teasing would only make their reunion that much sweeter. "Are you going to spank me?"
"I have to go, Brittany."
"Finn—"
"I'm in line and an agent just opened up. I'll call when I know something." His voice was much like the one he used for his in-ring persona. Hard, crisp, no-nonsense. But it softened when he added, "I love you."
"Love you more," she replied, holding her breath to keep the tears at bay.
"See you soon, darling."
Six hours.
It had taken him six hours to get where it should have only taken three and a half. He blamed American drivers. They always panicked when anything fell from the sky, and then continued to drive as though the Hounds of Hell were nipping at their rear tires. What to him was a little bit of rain must have been a monsoon in their minds. Those that didn't speed up so they could get away from the rain slowed their vehicles to a crawl. And no matter how he tried, he could not maneuver his rental into the speeding crowd.
Exhaustion was starting to set in. More than once he considered stopping and crashing in a hotel so he could rest, but then he thought of her.
Brittany.
He needed her. Sexually. He was a man after all, and after so long without her at his side his hand didn't quite appeal to him anymore. If he were brutally honest, he would admit that his hand hadn't really appealed to him once he'd had a taste of her.
He needed her. Physically. He needed her in his arms. He needed her head on his chest and her hair in his face. Spare pillows in hotel beds were naught compared to the warmth and softness of her. Nothing could replace the whisper of her breath against his skin, or the comfort of her tucked at his side while watching a movie.
He needed to have her laughter around him, and the lilt of her happy singing in the morning. He needed to see her eyes light up with interest while he discussed how his career was going. He needed to watch the passion on her face while she discussed her own career. He needed the good morning kiss to his back while he brushed his teeth. He needed her hand slipping into his as they walked in the park.
He needed her just as he needed air in his lungs.
So he drove on, pushing away the mental notation that it would be that much harder to leave her at the end of their week.
He drove on, cursing insipid drivers, the impractical route he had to take, the weather, the ill-lit signs, even the stray dog that darted across the street. He cursed it all and then some, for they delayed him.
Black lace indeed.
As soon as he was in that apartment he was going to waste no time making up for the lost hours. Even if it did mean making love to her against the door. Sad to admit, even to himself, but he wouldn't last long. Then he could get her in bed and…
"Yeuch," he blurted, nose wrinkling as he stretched one arm above his head.
Scratch that. As soon as he was in that apartment he was going to drag her into the shower with him.
The rain was still falling when he parked – half a block from her building. He sat for about three seconds, hoping the rain would stop, then opened the door with a sigh. By the time he unloaded his two bags and shouldered his backpack he was nearly soaked. Despite his exhaustion he perked up, slamming the trunk and locking the car before starting to jog through the rain.
He was wet to the skin by the time he reached the building. It took him a moment to find the keys she'd given him a few months ago, the leaking awning dripping right on his head as he unlocked the outer door.
The lobby was brightly lit and deadly silent. His shoes squished with each step as he dragged himself to the elevator. Thinking better of it when he recalled her telling him it had gotten stuck between floors for two straight days the week before, he took the stairs instead.
When he reached her floor he breathed a sigh of relief. Just a few more feet. He unlocked the door, pausing to see if he could hear her moving around. Of course, he didn't. It was nearly two in the morning, and she was usually in bed and fast asleep by midnight. As quietly as he could he entered the apartment, tenderly placing his bags on the throw rug near the door. He threw his jacket over them, squinting to see better in the dimness.
A wine bottle on the coffee table. The faint aroma of cooked meat hung in the air, almost taking over her scent. That lovely smell he knew so well. A combination of her perfume, shampoo, fabric softener, and the lavender she had tucked here and there to keep the place smelling nice. It all combined into a delicate fragrance that he would pick out anywhere.
He had taken only two steps when he saw her. Curled on the couch, fast asleep. One leg had stretched out, and he let his gaze follow its length, heart thudding in his chest as he took in the sight of her in just his t-shirt. Her right arm was drooped over her face, and he could just make out the shadow of her chin.
Finn wavered, unsure what to do. He longed to join her on the couch, to wake her up in a way she would appreciate. And yet, his body screamed for a shower. If he delayed that, he ran the risk of disgusting her with the stench that only six hours of travel could create. She would groan and her pretty face would get a revolted expression. And even if she was delighted by his arrival, it would be marred.
Five minutes. She hadn't awakened yet, chances were she would continue to sleep as he showered. Just long enough to rinse the stink from his body. Already peeling off his wet shirt, he eased the soaked sneakers off his feet and tiptoed through to the bathroom.
TBC :)