I don't really know what this is. It's something I've wrote on and off for ages, usually whenever I've gotten stuck writing Flux. It recently got to a point where it seemed to come to an end, so I figured I'd share. For now it's in two parts, the second of which I'll hopefully be posting in a few days time. Enjoy :)

An Encounter.
Part One.

Paige McCullers was drunk.

Definitely drunk. And it was all Emily Fields' fault.

Okay. So Paige did have a sneaking suspicion she'd been well on the way to tipsy before the two of them had staggered back to their dorm, after leaving Timothy Dale's party arm in arm. Though even with that admitted, it was also safe to say that she certainly hadn't been as drunk as she felt now. Therefore Paige deemed it perfectly acceptable to place the majority of the blame on Emily's head.

Nights like this weren't all that uncommon. Most Fridays, in some capacity or another, they'd end up just as they were now, talking nonsense in her dorm room, sometimes drinking, sometimes not, Paige's roommate, as usual, having left for the weekend.

Tonight was a drinking night. Emily had seemed off on the way home for reasons Paige had yet to work out, and once they'd made it back to their respective rooms Paige hadn't even bothered closing her door, knowing what was to come. Sure enough, Emily had resurfaced from the room across the hall five minutes later with a bottle of what Paige wanted to call whiskey but, even now on her third glass, couldn't quite be sure.

It was amber and it burned, she knew that much.

Paige was afraid to lift her head from the bed. She could practically hear the liquid sloshing about in her stomach, let alone feel it, the alcohol's potency ensuring that same sloshing motion was present in her mind. It was clear she'd passed the gentle buzz of tipsiness some time ago, the biggest giveaway being the amount of embarrassing detail she could hear herself going into as she answered the question Emily had asked her whilst pouring their latest cup.

Paige didn't know how the subject of Stacy Shepper had come up, but she was beginning to regret it.

Paige knew that if she was sober, she'd barely be able to admit to the night she'd spent with Stacy Shepper, let alone talk about it, especially with Emily of all people. That wasn't to say she was embarrassed; she and Emily shared near enough everything and Emily knew pretty much every story Paige had to tell, embarrassing or otherwise.

Tonight though, Paige sensed she was over-sharing. She could tell because when it came to talking about sex, especially with Emily, Paige had a habit of never going into any sort of detail about the act itself, good or bad, because, for reasons she was just about drunk enough to admit, she didn't want Emily being privy to the bad.

Not that it would matter of course. Emily didn't think of her in that way. And she didn't think of Emily in that way.

Ever.

Not often.

"Paige," Emily's voice filled her ears, a strangled sort of laugh coming from the girl currently sprawled out on her bedroom floor. Paige just about managed to roll over, taking in the sight of Emily looking up at her, her arms wrapped around Paige's pillow snugly. "That's so harsh."

"It's not. Trust me. It's just the truth."

Paige frowned, Emily looking up at her in disapproval. Perhaps it was a little harsh to say Stacy Shepper was pitiful in bed. It wasn't that she purposely wanted to put Stacy down, in truth, it wasn't just Stacy that had been pitiful that night. It was the pair of them combined, coupled with an added dose of hard liquor that had made their entire encounter 'pitiful'. It was simply that Paige felt happier omitting her own flaws when it came to describing the event. Just incase. Emily could be alone and restless one night and should, for whatever reason, Paige pop into her mind on such an occasion, she wanted Emily to picture her as something of a sex god.

Not that that would happen.

Not that Paige thought about it happening.

Ever.

Not often.

Sometimes.

"What was so bad about it then?" Emily quirked an eyebrow, apparently, genuinely curious.

They'd done this before, talked over their various hook ups, the good, the bad, the ugly. The drinking helped, loosening up the conversation. But Emily was never usually this persistent and Stacy had been months ago and Paige couldn't quite decipher exactly why Emily had taken such a sudden interest in the subject.

"Besides what you've told me. Was it just that you guys were drunk, or…"

"I guess so," Paige shrugged noncommittally. "We were totally obliterated, which hardly helped. I dunno. We just didn't gel. I'd go this way, she'd go the other, she'd want this, I'd do that…what?"

Paige's brow furrowed, not quite able to read the curious expression on Emily's face as she stared up at her.

"Nothing," Emily shrugged after a beat, snuggling into the pillow, still staring up at Paige with an oddly inquisitive smirk, though her eyes soon drifted closed.

Paige rolled onto her front, propping herself up on her elbows as she stared down at her friend, watching silently as Emily's chest moved up and down, up and down in steady breaths. She looked so peaceful, wrapped around Paige's pillow down there on the bedroom floor.

Paige sighed.

Sometimes, she wondered if it was obvious.

Paige was no stranger to worrying about the simplest of actions giving her away to someone else's watchful eye. She'd thought she'd left that kind of paranoia behind her when she'd came out, but deep down, Paige was well aware it had simply morphed into something else. A slight variation on the theme, you could say. Paige still worried about looking too long, about saying something wrong, about getting caught out. But it was no longer in fear of someone figuring out she liked girls. Paige didn't care who knew she liked girls. Paige's fear was of somebody catching her out and figuring out she liked a girl.

Singular.

This girl, currently stretching out on her bedroom floor.

Paige could practically break out into a cold sweat at the thought of someone pointing out that she might like Emily just a little too much. She didn't know what she'd do if Emily herself noticed.

They were best friends. That was it.

Paige had had her chance with Emily. They'd shared one fumbling kiss in the back of Emily's car after a 10th grade pep rally. Paige had failed to act on it afterward and for a time, it had served as a sort of 'kiss of death' to their already rather fractious friendship.

Then along came senior year. The kiss was all but forgotten and with scholarships to win, they'd managed to salvage some sort of friendship as they urged each other to compete at the highest level. When they found out they'd both gotten into Stanford, they'd road tripped across the country together and the rest was history.

They'd been practically inseparable ever since.

They never spoke of the kiss. Paige knew, as far as Emily was concerned, it had never happened.

It was all too easy, in moments like this, when her guard was down and Emily was oblivious before her, for Paige to allow herself to imagine how things could have been, had she managed to get her act together a little quicker back then.

Emily would have hopefully ended up on the bed with her, for a start.

"Want another?" Emily asked, Paige's eyes finally focusing from her daze to find Emily craning her neck to look at her, the smirk on Emily's face letting Paige know that on this occasion, she'd been caught staring.

"We probably shouldn't," Paige flushed a little, clearing her throat awkwardly as she rolled onto her back and away from Emily's prying eyes.

"Pssh," Emily shook her head in disagreement, the slight wobble she took as she stood telling Paige that Emily was feeling the effects maybe even more so than she was. "We may as well finish off the bottle."

"In the morning, when I tell you how much I hate you for cajoling me into drinking so much, you're not allowed to be mad about it," Paige smirked, taking the cup from Emily, sipping at the liquid tentatively before flopping back onto the bed, somehow managing not to slosh the drink all over herself or the sheets.

"Oh, shush," Emily prodded Paige in the side. "Scoot over."

"I'm comfy," Paige pouted.

"Scoot or I'll sit on you."

Paige obliged with a groan, scooting to the right and trying her best to ignore the way her stomach dipped in time with the bed as Emily climbed on alongside her. Paige shuffled further to the edge, giving Emily room to lay down beside her without the two of them having to touch.

"Was that the last time you…" Emily let the question trail off, Paige groaning internally as the conversation once again turned back to Stacy Shepper.

"Had sex?" Paige finished the question for her, though she refused to meet Emily's gaze. She could feel Emily's eyes boring a hole into the side of her head, her cheeks flushing a little. She was more than a little embarrassed to admit that Stacy Shepper had been the last time, four months ago. They hadn't spoken since. "Ah."

Paige remembered why they'd suddenly wound up talking about Stacy in the first place. Emily had managed to witness the unfortunate encounter she and Paige had shared at the party earlier that night. It was the first conversation they'd had since their 'night' and if Paige was to judge, Stacy had felt as awkward as she had about the whole thing. Emily had swooped in and saved her and that's when they'd made plans to leave.

"Yeah. That was the last time."

Paige sighed. Four months. One girl in four months. Emily never appeared to be short of suitors it seemed, much to Paige's chagrin. There was always somebody she was 'kinda, sorta dating', as Emily always tended to put it.

"And god, I don't even think it really counts. I mean, it counts, but it was…"

"Pitiful, apparently."

"Right."

"I get the feeling she might have wanted to hook up with you tonight," Emily mused, Paige letting out a scoff at the idea. The only thing Stacy had wanted when she'd bumped into her that night was to run in the other direction. "Sorry if I cock blocked you."

"Saved me, more like."

"Oh come on," Emily swatted her arm. "Maybe this time it wouldn't have been so…"

"Pitiful," Paige chuckled, shaking her head. She had to stop calling Stacy Shepper pitiful. They simply were not compatible in that department and as polite as they'd been while they'd talked, they were definitely not going to be giving things another shot.

"You could do worse than Stacy."

"She could do better," Paige shrugged. The thought seemed to trigger something in her mind, turning her head to look at Emily curiously. "Wait. Weren't you at the party with Samara? Why on earth are you in here getting bladdered with me?"

"We weren't there…exclusively," Emily shrugged, Paige not failing to notice the way Emily's lips tugged into a frown, nor did they miss the way Emily downed her drink once she'd spoke, tossing her cup to one side with a sigh. It was obvious how Emily felt about that.

Paige didn't like Samara.

"So it wasn't a date?"

"She was there with her friends mostly," Emily shook her head, frowning. "Well, one of her friends. Quinn."

Paige picked up on the slight venom laced with the name, suddenly realising why it was Emily had felt the need to share their 'quick night cap'.

"I thought the two of you were getting serious?" Paige couldn't help but grimace a little at the thought.

"Well…no, not really," Emily shrugged, though Paige had an inkling that Emily had perhaps thought so too. "Why would you think that?"

"I see her sneaking out of here often enough."

Paige wasn't convinced she'd succeeded in keeping the bitterness out of her voice as she'd spoke. Paige wasn't at all fond of Samara. She was ashamed to admit, even to herself, that she'd considered reporting Samara's comings and goings to the warden a few times. She wasn't jealous, not exactly. There was just something about Samara that she didn't like. Mostly, she knew Emily could do so much better. Paige had a sneaking, or sinking, feeling that Emily's wasn't the only dorm Samara was sneaking out of in the early hours of the morning, at least that's what the rumour mill had lead her to believe.

If the way Emily had spat out Quinn's name was anything to go by, Emily had that sneaking suspicion too.

"Well, we're not," Emily assured her. "She wants to keep it casual."

"Idiot."

Paige couldn't really complain, she was glad Samara was such a fool. Not to say she wanted to see Emily get hurt, she just didn't exactly want to see Emily with Samara either.

"What?"

"Nothing," Paige cleared her throat, locking her hands together behind her head in an attempt to deflect from her slip up. "Are you really happy with that?"

"Sure," Emily shrugged, Paige rolling her eyes. Emily hardly sounded convincing. "There's no pressure. We have a good time."

"So she's no Stacy Shepper then," Paige smirked, earning herself a swat from Emily.

"You're awful."

"So, come on then," Paige grinned, tilting her head until she could look at Emily. "What is the sublime Samara like between the sheets?"

"Paige. No."

"Hey! You just grilled me about poor Shep's prowess," Paige cocked an eyebrow challengingly. "Come on. Tit for…well, tit."

"We've only done it a few times," Emily blushed, suddenly very coy. Paige shook her head in amusement. It was a little late for coy. "We…we're still getting to know one another in that department. I have to admit…we're not exactly clicking just yet, I guess? I mean, it's nice…"

"Nice?" Paige scoffed, mimicking Emily's tone. "Sex shouldn't just be nice."

"No? What do you mean?" Emily asked in genuine confusion. "Surely nice is better than…what did you say about Stacy Shepper?"

"Pitiful," Paige answered, frowning at the word. She really needed to be nicer about Stacy Shepper. "It shouldn't be that either. It should be…"

"Go on," Emily bit back a grin, rolling onto her side to face Paige.

"Never mind."

"No, no," Emily pinched her side, causing Paige to jolt with a yelp. "Do enlighten me. What exactly should sex be, according to Paige McCullers?"

"Alright," Paige rolled over to mirror Emily's position, meeting her gaze with a frown, knowing she wasn't going to get out of it. "I just think, personally, it should be…"

"Well?"

"Well, there should be a connection first of all," Paige began, casting her eyes away from Emily's as she took in the sheer amusement on her friends face. She was often prone to…rambling, a little, whenever she'd had a drink or two, Emily clearly of the opinion that she was about to do just that. It didn't deter her. "It should be passionate. Or crazy, or soft, or slow, or rough or angry…but never just nice. And never pitiful. I just…I think there should always be some feeling behind it. It should stay with you, after it's happened. But in a good way. That was the problem with Shep and me. For the most part it was just booze and loneliness. Something was missing, you know?"

"I get what you mean," Emily nodded, shifting a little before continuing, her lips tugging into a frown. "I don't really know how long Samara and I are going to last. It's just…it's nice, being wanted. It's nice, not being alone."

"You're not alone."

Paige winced a little as she spoke, knowing that wasn't what Emily meant. Emily didn't need a reminder that Paige was always there with her.

Emily hadn't meant it like that.

"No," Emily smiled anyway, reaching out to lace their fingers together.

"Yeah," Paige swallowed, her eyes falling to their joined hands, frowning.

This.

Moments like this were exactly what Paige was terrified of. If Emily was paying attention, it'd be so easy for her to realise what Paige was feeling. So easy to pick up on the way her breath hitched as their hands joined, so easy to note the way Paige struggled to steady her breathing whenever they were so close to one another.

"I can't really figure you out," Emily mused after a beat, Paige's eyes flitting up to find Emily studying her closely.

"What do you mean?" Paige asked, dropping Emily's hand to instead rub the back of her neck self-consciously, something about the way Emily's eyes bore into her unsettling her.

"I can't decide what you're like. you know."

Emily looked away, Paige swearing Emily was blushing. Paige's brow furrowed in confusion as Emily's gaze fell back to her momentarily, before again looking away sheepishly.

"In bed."

Paige gulped, audibly, she was sure.

"Not like that," Emily quickly added.

"Oh," Paige deflated, doing her best to mask the bizarre disappointment she felt. She knew Emily hadn't meant it like that. She rolled over, taking a gulp of her drink, her eyes screwing shut as it burned.

"I just can't figure you out," Emily repeated, Paige trying not to squirm as she lay back down on her back, eyes bow glued to the ceiling. She had no idea where this was coming from, or where Emily was intending to go with it. "You know, how you go about…doing it."

"You've had sex before, right?" Paige asked dryly, tilting her head to Emily and quirking an eyebrow. She was all too aware Emily had had sex before. As recently as a week ago, with Samara.

Paige really didn't like Samara.

"I'm just curious."

"Well, whatever you do, don't ask Stacy Shepper," Paige smirked, hoping to ease some of the discomfort she felt with a joke. She smiled at the sound of Emily giggling. "If you really want to know, ask Ginny Clarke. She will most definitely give you a glowing review of my skills."

"Oh my god, you're such a sleaze," Emily shook her head as she laughed, shoving Paige playfully.

She shoved a little too hard, Paige grabbing at Emily's arm to stop herself from falling off the bed. Paige rolled back onto her side so they were facing again, smiling at Emily softly as their laughter died away.

"I don't really get what you go for the girls you go for," Emily mused, looking down at her fingers, picking at the comforter. "I mean, Shana, I guess that made sense."

"You hate Shana."

"No I don't. I was just…wary, of her, at first," Emily explained, rolling her eyes at Paige's disbelieving look. "I was."

"Sure."

Paige knew Emily had never liked Shana. The two of them had drifted apart a little when Paige had started dating Shana near the end of their senior year. There'd always been an odd sort of competition between Emily and Shana for Paige's attention which Paige admittedly, in a slightly twisted way, had enjoyed.

"You made a nice enough couple," Emily shrugged. "It's the Stacy's and the Ginny's I'm talking about. Neither of them seem like you're type. I just always picture you with…I don't know...well, not Stacy or Ginny, that's for sure."

"I don't really know if I have a type," Paige shrugged, knowing full well it was a lie. She'd had a type most of her life and her type was suspiciously like the girl barely ten inches in front of her.

"Are you still hooking up with Shana over break?"

"It only happened the once. Winter break," Paige shrugged, sighing. She'd kept in touch with Shana after leaving for college and they'd made a habit of trying to meet up whenever they were both back home, though hooking up had only happened once. Since then they talked, they'd even toyed with the idea of Paige driving down to USC during the summer, though that idea had soon faded.

"Do you think you guys will get back together?" Emily asked, Paige frowning at the question.

Shana had been Paige's only serious relationship, but in truth, they'd never really been that serious. In fact, they'd broke things off specifically before things got too serious so that they could both start college with a clean slate. Admittedly, Paige wasn't sure if they wouldn't fool around any more should the opportunity present itself. It just seemed to happen. Shana was fun. Shana was comfortable. But Shana wasn't the real thing.

"You still like her."

"She's fun," Paige shrugged. "But that's all it is. Fun. She's not what I want."

"And what do you want?"

You're what I want.

Paige shrugged. She felt Emily studying her again, meeting her gaze briefly, curiously. She soon tore her eyes away, knowing she was drunk, knowing they were close in a dim lit room on her bed and Paige just didn't quite trust herself not to get lost in Emily's eyes and try something stupid.

"Sometimes," Emily broke the silence once more, Paige's gaze drawn back to her as Emily cleared her throat. "Sometimes, I'm surprised we haven't."

"Haven't what?" Paige asked, looking to Emily in confusion.

"You know," Emily looked away, again seeming almost embarrassed. "I'm surprised we've never…"

"What?"

"Hooked up."

"What?" Paige made an odd, shrill sound, unable to hide her surprise. "Why?"

"I…" Emily shook her head, rolling onto her back in a meek attempt to mask the way her cheeks flushed, Paige only confused further by the sight. "Forget I mentioned it."

"Uh, nice try," Paige shook her head, propping herself up on her elbow. She had to know where that had come form. "What do you mean, you're surprised we've never?"

"I…" Paige simply quirked her eyebrow in curiosity, watching Emily roll her eyes in what appeared to be embarrassment as she fixed her gaze to the ceiling once again. "Look, in high school, I thought that maybe, eventually we'd…" Emily shook her head. "I just thought maybe we would, at some point."

A silence settled over them, Paige watching Emily, dumbfounded thanks to the admission, Emily refusing to look at anything but the ceiling, her cheeks flushed, Paige's mind suddenly racing.

Paige had spent most of high school wishing it would happen between them. Emily had spent at least some of high school thinking it might?

"Why would you have thought that?"

Paige had to know what she meant. Was this just drunken rambling on Emily's part, or was there more to it? Did Emily mean she thought they'd have a one time thing, or had she meant more? Was Emily suggesting something? Paige kept her eyes on Emily's face, taking in the way she bit her lip, goosebumps pricking her skin when Emily eventually turned to face her.

"I don't know," Emily shrugged, biting her lip as she struggled to explain. "I just…well you know, we always had…tension."

"Tension?"

"Yes, tension," Emily looked to Paige, swallowing. "For a little while, I figured that tension was going to…manifest…"

"Into?"

"Sex."

"Sex?"

"Well, yeah," Emily shrugged, her cheeks flushing dark red again as she looked away. "But it didn't, so."

"But you wanted to?"

"I never said that."

"Do you? Want to?" Paige found herself asking after a beat, freezing when she realised she'd spoken the words out loud as opposed to in her head.

"Paige."

"Sorry," Paige apologised, rolling onto her back again, cursing herself inwardly.

Their friendship was perhaps the most special thing in her life. Paige didn't think she'd have made it this far without Emily by her side and she had a feeling that at least in part, that sentiment was mutual. Messing all that up for the sake of a drunken fumble didn't seem worth it.

Paige loved Emily and Emily loved Paige.

But Emily wasn't in love with her.

Emily hadn't moved away, the skin on their arms now touching, Paige's skin burning with the contact. Paige took it as a good sign, their proximity that is. Emily hadn't left, meaning Paige hadn't made things awkward. They were just two drunk friends, babbling incoherently to one another.

About sex.

Sex with each other.

"Paige?"

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever? Thought about it?" Emily asked, Paige's eyes snapping back to her, trying to gauge exactly why it was Emily kept going back to the subject. She needed to know where all this was coming from. The alcohol was certainly playing it's part, that was for sure, but Paige couldn't help but sense something else. Something lingering. Or was that merely hope clouding her senses?

"Uh…"

"I have." Emily cleared her throat, lacing her fingers together against her stomach as she spoke. "Thought about it."

"You have?" Paige's breath hitched.

"Haven't you?" Emily's eyes fell to Paige, her voice small, unsure.

Nervous even.

"Yeah," Paige admitted after a beat, swallowing hard. "I mean, I guess. Yeah, I've thought about it."

Frequently, Paige thought. She was certainly thinking about it now. Paige found herself suddenly measuring the closeness between them, wondering if Emily could feel her heartbeat pounding through the mattress, or the way that her skin was tingling every time their skin brushed.

Paige shook her head, closing her eyes and trying to get back to her senses. Emily didn't want to sleep with her. She had just thought about it before. Or she was just thinking about it briefly a second ago. Or she was thinking about it right now, on Paige's bed, in Paige's empty dorm room, lying next to Paige.

Dear god.

"Ihavetogopee," Paige stuttered out, shifting from the bed so fast she almost knocked Emily off of it, stumbling towards the door.

Paige just needed to breathe. Her arms steadied herself shakily against the sink once she reached the bathroom down the hall. She splashed her face with water, trying to compose herself, trying to cool her racing thoughts, trying to dispel some of the heat that was coursing through her body.

This wasn't the time to get her hopes up and try something stupid. She'd had her chance with Emily years ago and snuffed it.

Between the two of them, they'd downed 4 beers a piece and half a bottle of whiskey. This, tonight, it was all just drunk talk. Drunken talk they'd laugh about tomorrow, or forget about overnight and pretend never happened, as long as Paige got her act together.

Still, stubbornly, something lingered.

Perhaps it was the whiskey. Perhaps Paige was just too hopeful for her own good. But she couldn't help it, only one question burning in her mind.

What if it wasn't just talk?