I got this plot bunny driving through the night last night, and in between naps for work tonight I decided to type it up, it being Scorpion Monday and all. Me not being able to watch live anymore doesn't change that.

There was nothing on the television. Or rather, nothing that Paige nor her boyfriend had a particular interest in, which meant lowered standards. These lessened expectations led to the third episode of the current season of The Bachelor.

"These reality dating shows are the worst," Paige said. "Like hey, we just met two days ago, let's go on a date, all – expenses paid, of course, to Paris or Rome. Let's tour a romantic little island. Let's watch fireworks and talk about what a metaphor that is for the first kiss we shared under them." She shook her head. "Of course they're going to think they're in love."

"We had an island retreat to start out relationship," Walter said.

"Not at all the same. We were in love before that, and we were surrounded by six other people, one of which had a potentially fatal injury and two of which were newlyweds. To say nothing of my child." Paige pulled their hands toward her and kissed him on a knuckle. "That island was hell. Especially at the start of our relationship."

"Well, it would have been a struggle to survive no matter when it happened," Walter said, "but yes, having just declared our feelings and then spending every moment of every day with the others for three weeks…not an ideal situation."

"God," Paige said with a little laugh. "We get a few minutes in that closet and then it was nearly a month before we got to be alone for a proper amount of time. I swear the reason I was able to sleep the entire flight back home…" she leaned over to kiss his shoulder, "was I'd been awake for three weeks straight getting myself all hot and bothered by imagining what it would be like." She glanced briefly at the television – it had gone to commercial. "After years of wanting you, knowing all that was stopping us was the damn island…I hate islands, Walter. I hate them so much. I even tried reasoning with myself, maybe it made me appreciate our first night together more, but that's bull poop, we already waited three damn years. I hate islands."

He gave a little chuckle, then shifted his gaze from her to somewhere straight ahead of them. He was looking at the television, but his expression told her he wasn't any more interested in the commercials than she was. The silence started to stretch. "Walter?"

He looked at her. "Hmm?"

"You've got that look on your face." She stroked his arm. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

"Yes you are."

He furrowed his brow. "You had mentioned the night we got back from the island that you hadn't been intimate with anyone in years, which means you and Tim Armstrong never were." He stated it with the confidence of someone who had the facts, but faltered after barely a second of silence. "Right?"

"Right." Paige shifted her legs into a criss – cross position. She had absolutely no idea how Tim fit into any part of anything they were discussing. Where on Earth are you going with this? When he didn't respond, she realized she hadn't vocalized her thought. "Where are you…"

"Do you ever think about him?"

Did she ever think about Tim Armstrong? Sure, she did. When the news talked of violence in Jordan, she hoped he was okay. When she looked for a favorite white top, she remembered that dinner when he got angry and slammed his hand on the table, sloshing her drink over the top of the glass and leaving a stain that she couldn't get out. When the internet dedicated one day a year to caring about PTSD, filling their social media accounts with hashtags and memes that may or may not even be accurate only to stop advocating for change the very next day, she thought of the friend he told her about who survived Afghanistan but couldn't survive the transition back to civilian life.

"I think of him sometimes," Paige said, "I suppose. Like when those two men were killed in Amman, I was sad for their families, but glad he wasn't involved. What does that have to do with what we were talking about?" She knew she'd flaunted Tim in front of him; she hated the person she'd been when he was around, but Walter's jealous streak was every bit as destructive as hers and his sudden inclusion of her ex into their conversation made her proceed with caution.

"What I mean is…" he gave a quiet grunt as he cleared his throat. "You just talked about imagining us. Together. Physically. You don't know what that…part of it would have been like with him."

"You're asking if I ever think about what it would be like to sleep with him?"

"You were attracted to him."

The way Walter said it was as an observation and not as if he were daring her to deny it. Still, Paige wanted to get mad. But the look on his face made her unable go to there. He didn't look jealous or angry. He looked forlorn.

She slid a hand behind him, lightly scratching his back over his shirt. "I don't understand how he can still make you so insecure. I love you. You. You're the one who makes kissing under fireworks unnecessary because I feel them every time we kiss anyway. It's one thing for me to see red carpet photos of Shemar Moore and say I would order him for dessert. It's a completely different thing when it's someone I dated."

"How?"

"Because," Paige said. "If I'd wanted to sleep with Tim, I could have." She shrugged. "He's attractive. Of course he is. But I've never lain awake at night wondering what it might feel like with him. Maybe when we were dating. Maybe. I'm being completely honest when I say I don't even remember. I know it seems like he and I were together for ages, but it was only a couple of months before he left the country. Not really a significant amount of time in my life. But definitely long enough that if he had me buzzing twenty – four seven I would have done something about it. You know firsthand that I don't need to wait if I know it's what I want."

Walter gave a small nod.

"I know you don't have the kind of experience to know this, but when you take out the other factors and bring it back to a basic level, sex is sex. Love can enhance the experience. Passion can enhance the experience. Attraction can, too. But attraction isn't an indicator of attentiveness, or skill, or love, and attraction was all Tim and I had. I don't know what his skill set is in that area, and honestly, I don't care." She reached up, running her free hand through his hair and down to his jaw. "Sure, Tim's attractive, but so are you. You're also sweet, and loving, and attentive. And whatever you didn't know, you learned fast. It never happened with Tim because it wasn't supposed to, so why would I waste time wondering about it?" She gave him a small smile. "If my mind is gonna wander that way, it's gonna wander to you, because yeah, I don't know what Tim and I would have been like, but I do know what you and I are like. And it doesn't get any better than us."