The last scene of "Role Model", written my way.
I meant for this to go an entirely different way, but the scene just didn't lend itself to the beginning of a relationship. SO, I'm calling this a prequel to "Then We Try". See aforementioned for Hameron goodness.
HMDHMDHMDHMDHMDHMDHMD
She walked up the sidewalk to his front door. He was playing the piano. A hymn, if she wasn't mistaken. How ironic. She straightened her shirt and knocked. She took a deep breath as she heard the piano stop and his three-beat gait begin. Finally he opened the door and looked into her eyes. No surprise showed on his face.
"Why are you here," he asked as if he didn't know.
She knew he'd never invite her in, so she went in anyway. She turned and looked at him, purposefully putting him between her and the door. "You asked me why I like you," she said, staring him square in the eye. "You're abrasive and rude. But, I figured, everything you do, you do it to help people. But I was wrong. You do them because it's right." She waited for a response.
He tried to collect his thoughts. All he could think was, 'What the hell am I supposed to say now?!?' Finally he spoke. "And you think that's enough to base a relationship on?" He scrutinized her face, trying to read her reaction.
She kept her face stoic. "I think it's enough of a reason to want to get to know you better."
"The only person who knows me better than you is Wilson. If that's all you want, go talk to him." His words were harsh but his tone remained gentle.
"Maybe not better, then. Maybe," she took a step forward, "closer."
He raised his head but kept his eyes on hers. He would never admit it, but he had wanted that since he hired her.
"In all aspects of the word." She stepped forward, but not provocatively. The move was inviting, even hopeful, not sexual. She was, though, just a few inches from him now.
He could smell her. Her perfume smelled of honey suckle and her breath of strawberries. Suddenly his hand was cradling her jaw bone. His thumb traced her lips.
She closed her eyes. She felt his hand leave her face. She waited for his lips to meet hers.
"You should go." She opened her eyes and realized the voice had come from behind her. She turned to see him standing by his piano, facing away from her. She opened her mouth to say something, but words never came. She walked to the door and placed her hand on the knob.
"My resignation will be on your desk on Monday."
He looked up just in time to see her shutting the door. He stepped toward it, wanting to stop her.
She waited outside, hoping he would come.
Minutes, seconds, or maybe hours passed. They couldn't tell. Eventually she left. Eventually he took more vicodin. Eventually, their lives went on.