I think we're supposed to kiss now.
We already did that.

And before she knows it, his hand finds its way to her side and she kicks herself again for thinking there's never been any sexual tension between them.

Seemed like the logical next step.

She can't breathe; she can't shift, can't show him the shivers that run up her spine. She swears she can feel his hands roaming all over her body again, his lips kissing every inch of her skin. His touch is intoxicating but maybe he's right, everything's just physical.

Guess she's an idiot for being surprised.


He's standing close; so close she can feel his hot tipsy breath on her lips.

God Cuddy, say you want this too.
Want what?
Me. Us.
Oh. Not following Jagger's rules anymore?

Blue meets grey; he's ready to compromise.

What if tonight, I promise to give you everything you've ever wanted?
Humble, self-sacrificing -

I'm serious Cuddles
Trust me, I don't need you to get what I want

He pins her against the wall but she struggles and opens her dorm room. His blue stare follows her. She bits down her lower lip, breathes and utters in his ear,

Okay.


Years later the first thing he wakes to is the smell of bleach and IV products carelessly spread across the floor directly associated with bad hospital food and crappy room services. He remembers being confused between Stacy's teary and apologetic eyes and Wilson, who kept saying the girls were right.

What the hell do you know? You weren't there.

He only sees his doctor once, when he's supposed to be better, when the pain has only got worse. It may be the hospital she works for but she's only been avoiding him for decades.

Being right stinks, doesn't it Cuddles?


Now, he wishes he'd called her instead of Wilson. She can be bitchy sometimes, but she's not cutthroat. Actually, she's hell of a lot hotter than Amber: her ass and breasts definitely don't look thirty-seven. If he half-closes his cerulean-blue eyes just the right way, he could maybe kiss Amber and pretend her name's Lisa. Would the blond hair be hard to miss? Would Cuddy also be swallowing amantadine pills like tic-tacs tonight? Hell, Cuddy's obviously not safer at home than she would have been in this bus with him. He can imagine her but unfortunately, she's just an hallucination.


The next time he pins her body against the wall he can kiss her as he leans on top of her a few moments later. She tastes like dust; she tastes like strawberry-flavored lipstick. She tastes bittersweet against his mouth, sweet and sour, pros and cons harmoniously intertwined. He kisses her because it's what guys do when they hear someone say "I love you". He kisses her because tonight he can finally be that guy, licking her skin and meeting her lips. Years after it all started, he finally re-discovers her greedy taste, free and rough. A very welcomed salvation.