It's late and I have to be up in like five hours to then drive another five hours but I had a few phrases for this fic in my head and figured if I don't write it now I won't be happy with it writing it in another mindset. So instead y'all get another middle of the night oneshot from me.
"Good night, Walter," she said, slinging her purse over her shoulder and smiling over her shoulder at him.
"Yeah," he said, smiling back. "Good night."
She smiled at him again, standing in the doorway, and then she was gone, on her way back to her apartment. God, he hated this part.
He'd thought he was too eager when he suggested they be wedding partners in crime, and he was relieved – and thrilled – when she instantly agreed. Then she'd gone on about how this would take late nights and weekends to pull off, and he swore he almost went into cardiac arrest right there at the thought of having more hours with her.
Because he hated this part.
He hated when she left. He hated seeing her walk away, even knowing she'd be back the next day, even knowing that things were so damn good between them now and she wasn't leaving with a hint of animosity left behind. She'd even hugged him tonight, smiling as she told him she was so pleased with how much progress they'd made, and although he knew she was referring to their impressive wedding accomplishments – they'd had to catch up after Ralph had distracted them the previous weekend – he couldn't help but think of how much better they'd gotten lately. And when she'd put her arms around him, he closed his around hers for the few seconds which was appropriate and then stepped away but he'd wanted to hold her tight and not let her go and it was all he could do to not hold on.
He'd very nearly confessed as much – how he hated when she left – to her, months ago, and if she hadn't given him that out – you are talking about...Toby? – then things might be very, very different now.
But although other things had changed, this was ever as before. She consumed his every thought, when he wasn't actively thinking about something else. His heart skipped a beat when he'd be in the kitchen or up in the loft in the morning and would hear her voice. Her image would dance its way to the front of his mind, and he'd wonder how she might look, what she might be wearing, until he saw her.
He remembered the first time he realized he found her attractive. He'd thought it was the dress. But then it was the dressy top. Then it was the wet tee shirt and then it was the white tank top and then it was the sunset light behind her and then he realized what all those things had in common.
He loved talking to her; her company was so pleasant that when she left it was like she took with her his ability to relax. The moment she walked out the door, something was missing, a part of him that he spent more than thirty years not knowing he had.
He thought about her long after she left, wondering what she was doing. Was she talking to Ralph? Was she curled up on the couch in those sweats watching television? Was she putting her hair up in a high ponytail and tucking the loose strands behind her ears as she made some baked good for Ralph's class? Was she soaking in a bubble bath? Was she curled up in bed, the covers around her, the peaceful look on her face that he knew she had when she slept because he'd seen her like that in the garage.
When he went to bed, it got even worse.
There was room next to him. Happy had occupied that space for a while. That had been uncomfortable, partly because it served to remind him that while he'd never cared to think about it before, there could be another person in that bed. There'd be even more room if they...
He shook his head, trying to push the thought of him holding Paige, her head against his chest, while she slept from his mind. He instantly regretted it as more, less innocent images crept up on him.
Walter sighed loudly, dropping down into his chair and resting his forearms on the desk and his head on his forearms. He knew none of this would come to fruition.
No. That was a lie. He still hoped, even after everything, even after Tahoe when he'd swung and missed and nearly knocked her out with the bat in the process. Especially now, when things were so good between them, when she was touching him again and when they were smiling and laughing and working so well together on something that normally she excelled at.
That was really sticking with him. She was good at adapting to things he was talking about enough to enjoy them. But these wedding plans were right in her wheelhouse and...and he was having so much fun.
Yes. He still hoped. His heart and been absolutely fragmented and yet he still wanted her. He wanted to feel her own heart beating against his. He wanted to hold her close and smell her hair and run his fingers through it, and he wanted to feel her head on his shoulder on their movie nights, and he wanted to feel her body along his when they slept, he wanted her to be the first and last thing he saw instead of having thoughts of wanting her to be what tormented him at the start and end of every day. She was already every second he spent by himself but he wanted fewer of those lonely seconds.
And Ralph. God, he wanted to not have to lie when he would tell people they met in the city that Ralph was his.
I love you.
He couldn't even tell if that was a quiet thought or if he'd just mumbled his feelings for her to the empty garage. He fought so hard to not blurt it out every time she smiled at him or rubbed his arm; once he was alone sometimes his guard just completely dissolved and a thought of her brought it out.
God, he wanted to be able to tell her and know that saying it was okay.
He didn't think her leaving would hurt this badly if he could. If they were together. He could stand to be without her for a night if he knew he could love her when they were together. Maybe it wouldn't make this part any better. Maybe he'd still miss her when they weren't together. He didn't know.
All he did know was, right now, he really, really hated this part.