Author's Notes:Written on the spur of the moment for Nina. :D Wilson/Chase. Enjoy.
Heated breaths and caring touches are exchanged in a battle of limbs and swollen lips. Right now, to them, there is nothing but one another and the darkness of the bedroom, the cool material of the bed sheets. Something is so right about everything, something fits so well, that they do not question anything. They do not question the voice in the back of their heads.
Blues meet dark browns and there's a connection; a heat that sends logical thought into fickle wind and words into sweet, meaningless nothings. They've been here before and even though they've sworn never to return, they both end up together, bodies moving and shifting to their own beat, their own song. That, in that moment, is all that matters.
When the heat dies down and they're left as glowing figures in one another's arms, there's a silence. Typically, nothing is said between two while kisses are placed into blonde hair and nimble fingers trace up arms and shoulders. The small things mean everything to them, even though they know in the morning they'll have to forget and go on as nothing ever happened. They forget only to come back the next night and remember the passion that they share with no one else.
But one night, instead of that placid silence, there are words. They whisper soft words, the older one's words filled with deep thought and wistful morals. The other, laden thick with an accent, makes soft jokes, not wanting to fall back into the serious reality they had to face everyday. And, before they know it, those words slip.
"I love you…" Chase doesn't understand why he says it, but he does. And Wilson knows those words are larger than any sin, yet sweeter than any punishment. He also knows that it's just not that time for them; they wouldn't work. Chase, an agile young foreigner, spunky and amusing would not work well with him, Wilson, who knew the love was nothing but physical attraction.
"We should get going…"
And Wilson regrets not repeating those words as he sees that Australian embrace the young Doctor Cameron with such tenderness, but not true happiness. Wilson knows that the words Chase whispered to him that night were real. Often times, he swears he still sees the hurt in blue eyes, but now it's masked with what happiness Chase could achieve from the young female doctor.
Wilson dismisses the sorrowful gazes and retires to his office; regret filling his system as it does whenever night falls upon him. And he hopes that one day, he'll wake and it would have only been a dream and he would've returned those simple words. Then, perhaps, regret would be the one tossed into the fickle wind, not logic. Perhaps, perhaps…