{A/N: Just a quick note before we begin - for the sake of this fic, I've scrapped the court case plot-point. So, to clarify, at this moment in my version of canon, Peter and Assumpta did have that kiss in Niamh's kitchen, but they haven't spoken to each other since Assumpta ran out…}
Chapter 1
Friday - 10:20 pm
The food fair was in full swing. However, not everyone was having as great a time as they should be having. Instead, two people had spent the night subtly avoiding each other. Every now and again, their gazes would unintentionally meet, leading to the two quickly distracting themselves in opposite directions. It had always been like that with them. A finely-tuned, silent agreement had developed over time, leading to both of them concurrently burying their heads in the sand as to what was unfolding before them.
"Any chance of a top-up there, Assumpta?"
The owner of the pub plastered on a smile as she pulled yet another pint for Padraig, speedily working on an order for Brendan, too. One could say that she was simply being efficient, given the special event taking place her establishment. However, she knew fully well that she was merely keeping busy as she dealt with the overflow of customers. Even the rain outside seemed to surround the establishment with a murky hue.
"This is where the 'Forty Shades of Green' comes from."
"Sorry?" The man peeked out from behind the tattered cloth, momentarily distracted from the act of drying himself off.
"It's a song." She glanced up through the windscreen at the dreary shower surrounding her battered van. "'Forty Shades of Grey' would be more accurate, but then there's the image to consider."
The outsider simply let out a little chuckle and a goofy smile in response.
How was it that everything these days always seemed to lead back to him?
Saturday - 1:30 am
Peter, on the other hand, was struggling. That was why, as last orders were called and the last few stragglers stumbled outside, Peter took the opportunity to duck into the bathroom. They needed to sort this out. Now.
After a few moments, the pub had become silent. Gulping a little, Peter emerged from his hiding spot and moved in the direction of the only prominent light source left - the kitchen.
"Assumpta… We need to talk."
Assumpta merely matched his gaze from where she sat, her finger tracing the rim of her wine glass. Once she finally spoke, her voice was as cold and sharp as the north-westerly gale that could be heard outside. "Oh, do we, Father?"
She knocked back the last bit of her drink, standing up with the intention of heading to the sink. Instead, she felt a hand on her arm, leading her to reluctantly take the bait. She placed the glass on the table again.
"So, what did you want to talk about?"
Peter knew damn well that she knew exactly what the subject matter was going to be. How could she not? Regardless, he played along.
"Last night…" He paused, desperately trying to find the right words.
She beat him to the punch, fiery temper rearing its ugly head once again. If he was just going to reject her, he sure was taking his time with it!
"Last night, you just slipped. It happens. You're a priest. It can't happen. It shouldn't happen. You weren't in your right mind, after your mother and all that." Now it was her turn to hesitate, the tears threatening to fill her eyes betraying her strong exterior. "You regretted it. You–"
"I didn't regret it. Not one bit."
He jutted into her speech, gingerly clasping her hand in his and taking a deep breath before continuing.
"That moment was all I've wanted for the last three years."
He let go of her, instead placing his hands on her cheeks as he stared deep into her eyes. God, she was beautiful. He could feel his own tears appearing with a vengeance as he spoke three simple words.
"I want you."
With that statement, the proverbial floodgates opened for Assumpta. He wanted her. The problem was - did she want him, too? Three years of missed chances and stolen glances… They were never just for show. Ever since she picked him up in her van that day, she had loved him. She knew that now. All that time, she had subconsciously grown to love his scraggy jumpers, his innocent and caring demeanour, his crooked smile, his hands, his…
Before she could stop herself, she closed what little space was left between them, her lips meeting his.
Peter was only momentarily stunned, his hands slipping down to her supple curves as he deepened the kiss. Without a second thought, he pushed her hard against the wall of the kitchen. Assumpta opened her mouth slightly, daring him to enter. He complied willingly, his tongue slipping inside, teasing her bottom lip as he pulled her closer.
Soon, she felt his lips on her neck, causing her legs to go weak. She tilted her head, letting out a soft moan as his kisses became more intense. She reached to roughly and impulsively undo the buttons on his shirt. However, her fingers ended up inadvertently touching something stiff, causing her to freeze.
The dog collar.
"Oh God!"
Pushing Peter away, she bolted to the other end of the room, heart racing. He watched her with a torn expression. Stepping forward, he reached out in a pleading gesture.
"A-Assumpta, I–"
"I… I have to go!" She was sobbing now. She grabbed the van keys from the counter and her coat from where it lay slung around the back of the chair. Shoving past him, she practically ran out of Fitzgerald's, putting on the coat roughly as she did so.
Good thing she had grabbed it, too, because the weather had deteriorated throughout the night. Nevertheless, Assumpta desperately tried to ignore the rapidly decreasing sight of a distraught Peter in the rear-view mirror through tear-blurred vision. She just needed to get out of that pub, of Ballykissangel. She needed to think. Away from him.
She'd kissed Peter. A priest, for God's sake! It wasn't just him, though. She was married to Leo. She was never that concerned about Christianity, but she knew for a fact that wanting to have sex with Peter while she was still married to Leo was morally wrong on so many levels.
Oh God, she even wanted to have sex with him!
Her mind was still swirling with jumbled thoughts as she reached the hilly outskirts of Ballykissangel. The torrential rain was making it harder and harder to see, even with the Renault's windscreen wipers going at full-speed.
Maybe that was the reason why she didn't spot the fallen tree trunk sooner.
She pulled the steering wheel hard to the right - spinning the van away from the tree. Next thing she knew, the van crashed through a wooden fence protecting the roadside field. She tried to brake, to slow down, to do anything. All she could hear was the deafening sound of glass shattering and metal crunching as the van rolled down the field. She was spun around like a dirty t-shirt in a washing machine.
Eventually, the van came to a shuddering stop, the rain enveloping it like a curtain. Silence reigned supreme.
