Dear readers,

Please forgive me for being a negativist of sorts and putting Suze with Paul, but the boredom wouldn't allow me to be a positivist. Anyway. R&R.

This fanfic is dedicated to all Paul Slater Fans (if any).

Disclaimer: I don't own Mediator, super-lucky Meg does. sob

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WHAT IF

-a PGP fanfic-

I woke up this morning with a killer headache – uncannily similar to the one I'd had the last time I'd 'shifted'. Shifted? I don't even remember why I had shifted. All I could recall was that I had shifted into Shadowland with Paul, and that he had later on told me that I had got a killer headache because of the shifting.

Still puzzling over this weird situation, I showered, got ready, ate and left for school. I walked slowly, somewhat frustrated, mulling over why the heck I couldn't recall a freaking thing besides Shadowland and Paul.

Near school, I bumped into no one other than Paul, the hot ass himself. Ah, that's another weird thing. I've suddenly starting having this funny feeling that Paul's the love of my life or something. So, voilà – my kneecaps magically transformed themselves from bone to jelly in a matter of milliseconds.

"P-Paul," I stuttered. "H-Hi." Smooth, Simon, real smooth. Great chat-up line. "Why, it's you, Susie!" said Paul, grinning that…grin of his. "What's up?" I usually HATE it if anyone calls me Susie, but when Paul said it…it just…I dunno…made me tingle all over.

"Um, nothing much. Just…going to school?" AAAAAAAHH!!! I SO TOTALLY suck at chatting up guys I like. "Uh-huh," said Paul, smoothly. "Wanna come over to my place after school today?" Oh. My. Gosh. He did not just say that. Such things only happen in fairytales like Cinderella. "S-Sure!" I stuttered, in a way I thought sounded a tad too keen. But Paul didn't seem to notice, as his tone and grin remained the same. "Okay, I'll pick you up near your locker after school." "Okay. My locker number is –" Paul laughed. "I know your locker number, Susie," he said. "Just wait for me there." Saying this, he walked off, turning once to wink at me, turning my heart to goo.

AFTER SCHOOL

I was waiting at my locker. I didn't want to look like I was there just for Paul, so I had opened my locker and was shuffling around, trying to look like I was busy. CeeCee, one of my best friends, came up to me with a handful of books. "Hi Suze," she said, light bouncing off her pretty violet eyes (she's ditched her glasses for contact lenses). "Wanna come over?" "No." I said, a little too quickly. Sure enough, CeeCee looked taken aback. "Gee," muttered. "What's up with you, Suze? You're acting totally strange. I mean, it's okay if you've got plans." "Yeah," I said, hastily. "Sorry. I have plans." But my concentration was anywhere but on the conversation. I was waiting for Paul.

"Anyway, I'll catch ya later," said CeeCee, walking away, still looking at me strangely. I muttered something sounding remotely like a 'bye'.

After a few minutes, Paul appeared from one end of the corridor. "Hey," he said. "Sorry I'm late." Talk about it. The entire corridor was empty except for the two of us. "That's okay," I said smilingly, quickly brushing it off. "Let's go." Paul gave me a strange smile. "C'mon."

He caught hold of my hand and pulled me along. I felt all warm and nice when he did that, and somewhat surprising that he did what he did. But hey – who's complaining?

We walked towards the students' parking lot, him still dragging me along by my hand. When we got there, I realized that he had a sleek gold BMW. It looked brand-new, with the paint so shiny that you could see your face in it and all. I got into the passenger seat when Paul opened the door for me. As I slid into the seat, the touch of the cold leather made a nervous shiver fly down my spine.

PAUL'S HOUSE

Paul's house isn't far from school – we reached there in about three minutes.

"Paul," I said. "Yeah, Suze?" "Could I, um, make a call?" "Sure." I expected him to tell me where the telephone was, but, instead, he produced a silver Sony Ericsson flap-phone from his pocket and handed it to me. I took it with shivering fingers. Yeah, I was still nervous. So sue me.

I dialed the house number. "Hello?" Someone chewing on chips picked up the phone. Dopey. Groan. "Hello, Do–, er, Brad," I said, almost spilling out the secret nickname I've given him.

"Whaddya want, idiot?" he said in a tone that was as arrogant and obstinate as Paul was hot. I tried not to scream.

"Give Mom the phone." I said, after taking in a huge gulp of air. "I won't. Whaddya want?"

"JUST GIVE IT TO HER, WILL YOU!" I thundered.

"Whatever, man, chill out," came the nonchalant reply. As Dopey called out to Mom, I glanced at Paul's face. He looked amused. Dopey was so totally a dead man walking.

After a few seconds, Mom came to the phone. "Yeah, honey?" she said.

"Mom," I said, mortified that I had to notify my mother about my whereabouts in front of my potential boyfriend. But not telling her wasn't much of an option, what with meals being huge affairs at the Ackerman household. "I'm, uh, at a friend's house. So I'll be a little late to come home."

"Oh, just make sure you're back by dinnertime, Susie, dear."

"Yeah, Mom. Bye." Not bothering to let her reply, I slapped the flap of the phone shut and handed it to Paul.

"Thanks," I mumbled, as Paul slipped the phone into his pocket. Paul smirked and murmured under his breath. I swear it was "Oh, Susie, I intend for us to be so much more than just friends." Not wanting to know the real thing in case it was something else, I didn't say anything.

We just stood there for a few moments, not saying anything. "So, Susie," said Paul. I wish he'd stop calling me that. Not that I don't like it – it's just that it makes me feel even more nervous than I already am. "Let's go in my room. Would you like to have a look at it?" "Um, sure." "Follow me."

So Paul led the way while I followed him. We entered his room. It did not look in the least like a seventeen-year-old boy's room. It wasn't scattered with dirty laundry and comic books like my stepbrothers' rooms. Instead, Paul's bedroom was in fact cold and – much as I hate to admit it – pretty uninviting. The four-poster bed was neatly made and covered in a plain pale gray bed sheet, with pillows of the same color. There was a silk quilt at the foot of the bed – it was black, and looked pretty cozy, if you ask me. And that was not meant to be a innuendo.

His study was a plain white one, though it was clearly made of an expensive wood. In fact, all his other furniture (which wasn't much, but whatever) – a closet and a chair – were also made of the same wood and were white in color. A pile of books was neatly stacked in one corner of the study.

"Uh, nice bedroom," I blurted. What did I say that for? Oh. Probably to make him feel I like his bedroom. "Thanks," said Paul, grinning. "I haven't been here all that long, actually. Just a couple of months." Okay. This was getting majorly awkward. When he asked me over, I didn't even bother to find out what were going to do – I was so desperate to just get there. "Um," I said. "Okay."

Paul casually took a step towards me. "So…would you like to have a look at some old documents about shifting by my granddad?" "Yeah," I said. "Sure." "Sit down on the bed," he instructed me. I nodded and sat down on his bed. Paul opened his closet, dug around for a about a minute, and produced a large pile of old-looking papers. And they looked really old, like thirty-forty years or something. They were quite yellow, with crinkly, blunt edges, pretty eaten by silverfish.

Paul hurried over to the bed from the opposite side and set the pile of papers down with a thud. They were so old that when Paul set them down, they released a cloud of dust. I gave a little cough.

"Are you okay?" asked Paul, settling himself down next to me. "Yeah," I assured him. "I'm fine." "Good."

He lifted up a few papers, sorted through them, and then pulled out a paper from the pile. "Look at this," he said, pointing to a black-and-white picture. "Can you see this little space in the center of this mosaic? The mosaic was found in some ruins of an Aztec temple. Some shifters say that it used to contain a huge magical jewel that would give the powers of interacting with ghosts to anyone who touched it." The picture was really tiny, so I had to peer in really close to make out what Paul was showing me.

As I leaned in closer to get a closer look, I felt Paul's gaze on me. As I looked up at him, he was staring right back at me with those deep, electric blue eyes of his. He gently caught hold of my chin and turned my head so I faced him. Then…then he pulled me towards him and covered my lips with his. Since I physically wasn't in a position where I had the ability to fling my arms around his neck, I just settled for pressing myself as close to him as I could.

But apparently, Paul wasn't satisfied with that much. He broke the kiss, came over to the other side of the bed – my side – lay himself on top of me, and started kissing me again, this time even deeper and more passionately. This, for some reason, seemed strangely familiar, but I didn't think about it much.

His kisses made me feel so, I don't know…loved. It made me feel like I was the most special girl in the world. Paul kissed me harder and harder, pushing his tongue into my mouth. We got more and more heated up with lust.

Oh God. I wanted this. I wanted this so much. Our breathing began to get heavier by the moment.

Soon, we weren't sitting anymore. He had pushed me down on the bed and was keeping me pinned, like he was afraid I'd run away if he let go. As if I'd ever do that. This was what I wanted the most in this world, and now I was getting it.

Paul's arms were stretched over me, his palms rested downwards on the bed for support. I had taken my opportunity and wrapped my arms closely around his neck, playing with his hair with the tips of my fingers and gently caressing the nape of his neck.

Now he wasn't stilted over me anymore, but was now properly on top of me, his body pressed flush against mine. I felt his warmth all over as we kissed. It was an indescribably good feeling.

Soon, we surfaced reluctantly since lack of oxygen was becoming an issue. But after a few seconds, I smiled at him and once again pulled his lips down to where they belonged – on mine.

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So, how was it? Hope it was fluffy/feel-good enough! Wellllll…the only way to let me know would be to review! So PLEASE do so by all means…

XOXO pisceangirlpower XOXO