A stroke of luck

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my laptop.
Thanks to becoolbec for beta-reading.

As he lay awkwardly next to her in bed, he wondered if he'd ever been more embarrassed in his life. Being his usual self, he searched his memory thoroughly, recalling every humiliation, every unsatisfying romantic encounter and other occurrences of this particular setback, which definitely didn't help with the matter at hand. He shook his head in disbelief. How did this fiasco happen?

They were still naked, but the covers were raised up to their chins. They were being very careful not to touch each other. Or look at each other.

"I'm sorry," he tried again miserably.

"Don't be. It's okay."

"No, it's not okay. It's very far from okay. I'm so sorry, Sara. I've been waiting for this to happen for so long and now..."

"Look, it happens to all men..."

She had to let that sentence hang in the air when she was interrupted by yet another round of obnoxious screaming and headboard banging from the room upstairs.

Michael glared at the ceiling with the full force of his well exercised death stare, contemplating killing his older brother when he finally lost his stamina and left the room he'd been locked in with Jane for the past few hours. So much for saving his life.

"I think I'm just nervous."

She didn't reply, this time. She was trying very hard not to take it personally. As the sentence formed in her head, she winced a little, before wondering if it happened often to Paul Kellerman. Probably not. She blushed at the thought and unconsciously moved a little further from him, this time effectively reaching the end of the bed.

If Kellerman had been there to force the truth out of her, she'd tell him she was disappointed and upset, with a side of mighty pissed off. She had been waiting for this, too. Actually she had been dying for it to happen. Ever since they'd kissed in that train's bathroom and confessed their love for each other, Michael had grown distant, as if the matter was settled, and it had been steadily driving her insane.

She was not sure what she was most angry about. It might be how ridiculously girly it had made her feel to wait anxiously for an embrace, a light touch of his hand on hers, a meaningful stare, even. There had been very few of those, too. Of course, they were still on the run with an army of blood-thirsty feds on their heels and there was little time for romance, but they were not in the 8th grade anymore. She expected more from a man she gave up everything for. And now they finally had the chance to be together, really be together...
She'd had great expectations for that first night in each other's arm. They were finally alone, reasonably safe, with no ex death-row inmate sibling to interrupt them. Still, obviously, Michael couldn't... perform. She felt remarkably cheated.

When the noises from upstairs finally receded, they fell asleep, back to back, each one brooding about lost opportunities.

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"Hello", Jane sing-songed as she entered the kitchen. Sara considered strangling her with the first electric cord she could get her hands on but let the thought slide when she noticed how unusually cheerful Jane looked. It was so unfair. She should be the one showing off an outrageous afterglow.

"So, how was it?" the blonde asked, raising an eyebrow. Sara almost choked over her coffee cup. She knew Jane was straight-forward, but she hadn't expected that much bluntness from a woman she barely knew.

"Fine, thanks." Now, she was completely mortified. "Err, you seemed to have a good time..." she started, before shaking her head vigorously. "I'm sorry, I can't do the morning after recap thing."

"I was kidding, Sara", Jane replied, frowning. She watched her cautiously for a moment, until something seemed to click and she softened, giving her her most sympathetic smile.

"Morning," Lincoln greeted emphatically as the brothers appeared in the kitchen, Lincoln grinning from ear to ear, Michael looking like his favourite pet had just been put down. He sat opposite Sara, staring intently at his empty coffee cup while the other couple chatted animatedly.

In turn, they shot each other long stares. Michael's were pleading, Sara's positively affronted. They were yet to talk to each other that morning.

When he couldn't take anymore of her silent recriminations, Michael raised up to get the coffee pot and distractedly poured himself some. So distractedly, in fact, that most of the boiling beverage fell on the hand that held the cup.

"Owww," he yelled, shaking his burnt hand as if it was on fire.

"God, Michael are you okay?", she screeched as she rushed to him to examine his hand, seizing his wrist. She had switched to doctor mode, turning his hand in hers carefully, examining it thoroughly, her long fingers tickling the uninjured skin of his wrist.

He took in her concerned face, her professional and precise gestures. He had grown very fond of that side of her during his detention. Back then, it had filled many of his late night fantasies.

His jaw fell as a million thoughts and images collided in his mind . He let his eyes wander over her modest outfit that showed just a hint of cleavage and pale skin, her delicate collarbone and back to her intense gaze still focused on his hand. He suddenly felt himself growing very... able. So able that he didn't think he could wait a second longer.

Before he engaged in some very inappropriate behaviour on top of the kitchen table in front of both his brother and his new lover, he grabbed Sara's arm and gave her the most significant look he could muster. She stared back at him and blushed at his ardent, predatory stare.

Without a word or a look back to their bewildered housemates, he pulled her out of the kitchen and sprinted to their bedroom, Sara trotting behind him. He slammed the door shut and pounced on her, intent on showing her that he didn't feel so nervous anymore.

Back in the kitchen, Jane grinned at Lincoln. "Aren't they cute?"
Lincoln chuckled and thought maybe there was still hope for his little brother, after all.