Title: Conflict.
Pairing: C/G
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: 'This is just sad, Foster. You can do better.'
A/N: The very thought Lightman dancing with Foster has been driving me crazy. Plus jealous Cal is all sorts of awesome. Had it on my computer for a while now.

A sudden breathy hot agonizingly delicate touch at the base of her neck wiped a quiet smile off her face. Eyelids deliriously heavy she bit whatever sound was threatening to escape her lips. Having a mind of its own her body was itching to lean into the warm and solid. She felt trying fingertips drawing a forbidden pattern on the silk of her dress until a possessive palm splayed flat against her stomach brought her fully against him, chest to back.

She felt 'Alright, darling?' vibrating through her. She must have imagined it really.

And then he was between her and her escort, his hand at her knee where she was sitting leg crossed at the bar. There they were again. And yet that irritating irrational irresistible urge to wrap her hands around him was all she felt. She tugged at his jacket instead, hoping he did not notice.

The two men just stood there having whatever voiceless conversation males had on such occasions. She saw the first silent hints of tension building up Cal's shoulders. He didn't wait long before letting his tongue lose making the man even more uncomfortable, uncomfortable in his troubled skin, uncomfortable with the whole thing. Robbed of the quiet polite smile he left almost willingly. She didn't meet the parting man's gaze. Shawn. One of those glass-half-empty kind of guys. She didn't want to meet Shawn's eyes. She'd been there before.

Cal was facing her now grinning like a maniac all pleased with himself, dazed (dazing) watery blue eyes gleaming. She recognized the blissful blur of heat spreading in her stomach.

'This is just sad, Foster. You can do better.' His voice came out thick with scotch and London. A sharp remark was just on the tip of her tongue, but she let it go. She let him have his fun, the fun of getting something for nothing, the fun of getting away with it.

He stared back at her eyes curious.

Before she knew it, he snatched her whiskey and choking it all down. The awkwardness. The jealousy. Making a face, he everything but threw the glass back at the waiter shouting out for a refill.

'Haven't you had enough of those?'

He pointed an accusing finger at her, at her quietly infuriating words. His other hand was still drawing a lazy pattern on her thigh. She wondered if he was aware of.

The waiter was quick to produce another glass. He gulped it down right away vainly trying to shake off the momentarily dizziness.

'Bloody hell'

She just stared at him. The air suddenly felt thick with smoke, alcohol and voices.

Looking at nothing in particular Cal tugged at his collar. She swatted his hands away and started undoing his bowtie. She felt his eyes watching her every move in a drunken haze as she let her fingertips loose under his collar.

'Bit early for that, love'

She didn't even bother rolling her eyes at him.

'So, a friend of yours, is he?' His words stumbled.

Her hands were heavy on his shoulders as his fingertips found their way to her hips.

'A friend? A man friend?' He was rambling now; his raw emotions packed in short clipped sentences. There were dark smudges under his eyes, no color in his face. He looked older.

'Because I know exactly how this friendship thing works.' She felt herself flinch at the harsh voice, at the cutting words. She didn't dare to blink.

There he was again. Spreading out, claiming him was a new and unexpected kind of pain, a pain to rob you of your senses. He would probably wake up with a big appetite and a hangover and a vague memory of the day's events, but he there right then was going to make sure she felt every bit of it.

'Might as well give you the heads up.'

Uncertain palms were twitching up to push him away. First hints of anger made way to her eyes and left them blazing with amber before they died down to shy silent blue. He stubbornly held her gaze.

He was being difficult these days. Difficult about the routine, difficult with people. He pushed her until she was about to throw things at him only to back down again as if attempting to squeeze a response out of her. Emerging to replace this 'thing' between them was the pattern he was so accustomed to dealing with. Conflict. He methodically peeled off the remains of her self-control trying to see things he would never see, things she wouldn't let him see.

'This is getting old'

She knew exactly what he was going to say before he mumbled something seemingly unintelligible.

'I'll drive you home' she added still holding his watery gaze.

'This is not how it works, Foster.' She bit down her smile. 'Here I thought you knew. '

A ridiculously striped jacked was squeezing his way through to fetch his drinks, pushing him further onto her. He just grinned down at her. Such straight hair and so many freckles.

Suddenly she was aware of the aimless silhouettes that were moving around them with the confusion of sleep, with the grace of unfurling smoke.

'Dance, yeah? Why don't we?'

A/N: Thanks goes to my beta who managed to convince me not to go all dark and angsty and depressing cos it's not that nice. Slow clap.

The title. Tell me about it *le sigh*

Also now that I've seen 'Double Blind' I honestly find myself stuck every now and then.

Chapter 2 is still on me.

Hope you've enjoyed it.

Luv,

D.