Author's Note: A little fluff piece taking place somewhere shortly after the S2E1 because we didn't get to see enough Bar time hanging out at the Drop and someone suggested a jealous Bates piece. Just wanted to get a quick thing written, because it's my birthday weekend and I have a lot of people coming in from out of town to help me celebrate it, so I should be out of commission this week.
"You know he likes you, right?" Mike says the words evenly as he lines up his pool shot. Like this information hasn't been burning his brain since he discovered the tall, dark, handsome DEA agent had taken his place.
"Who? Zelanski?" Paige asks, as she sips her beer and watches Mike fall short of getting his ball in the hole. He's out of practice.
"The way he stares at you. He doesn't even try to hide it. You ok sleeping next door to that?" Mike asks, walking back to her to hand her the pool stick. "If not, you could file for workplace sexual harassment or something. I could step in and talk to him."
"He's harmless." Paige dismisses Mike's offer with a smile, taking the stick from him.
"It doesn't make you uncomfortable?" Mike crosses his arms and leans against the wall, glaring at Bates who is across the bar talking with the other Graceland agents at their table.
"I'm just saying, he's not the first young agent to come to Graceland with a little crush." Paige smirks knowingly to herself as she chalks her pool cue.
"What are you implying? Mike asks, already knowing full well what she was getting at.
"I'm not implying anything. I'm straight up saying it to your face." Paige grins as she lines up her shot, knocking two balls into the pocket before turning to grin at Mike. "Before Bates was in that room, I remember it being occupied by a certain FBI agent, who seemed to like the view."
"I was never that bad." Mike blushes a little at being called out. Not that she's wrong. The whole house knew from the beginning Mike was smitten with Paige, but Mike hopes he didn't look quite as foolish as Bates.
Paige takes her second turn lazily, fully aware that even as Mike argues that he doesn't stare as much as Bates, his eyes are transfixed on her ass. She wiggles a little just to prove a point, but it costs her the shot, and it's now Mike's turn again.
"That's cheating." Mike states in response to her wiggle. Paige just shrugs and hands the pool stick to Mike. Mike hastily lines up his shot while still grumbling, "I mean the guy was jerking off in a cop car. He's a deviant."
"You don't know what deviant acts he was listening to me perform undercover while he was on surveillance." Paige retorts. She sips her beer casually and laughs when the comment makes Mike scratch so hard he nearly falls over.
Mike recovers and walks back over to Paige. She reaches for the pool stick, but he continues to hold it so she pulls him with it and he leans in a little too close. She prepares for questions on what she was doing undercover that was so perverted to cause Bates to need release, but he skips over those possibilities completely.
"The fact that he was jacking off, when he was supposed to be your backup, is even worse. What if you needed help and his pants were at his ankles?" Mike's voice is intense and dark, and his eyes are just as intense as they stare down at her. He sounds protective, and there's an anger brewing beneath his calm exterior. Paige had never considered the conversation would turn this way. Nothing had happened, so why was Mike worried?
She looks up at Mike's eyes, fixed on hers, surprised at the sudden seriousness of the conversation. She's also surprised how his sudden closeness sends a chill up and down her spine. She looks up at him for a moment in wonder.
"I appreciate the white knight routine, but I don't need protection." Paige grins, unable to break his gaze. She can see in his eyes his protectiveness turning to possessiveness, and the anger turning to lust. Suddenly the bar seems smaller. Just her and him in the corner.
"What do you need?" Mike leans in even closer. His tongue peeking out to wet his lips. His eyes challenging her.
"The pool stick." She pulls it a little closer in her direction, which pulls Mike in closer as well. He's so close she'd only have to tilt her face up a few inches and they'd be kissing. So close his chest is brushing against hers. Her eyelids flutter as he begins to lean down. She can almost taste Mike on her lips. She's so close to giving into temptation, when a voice breaks through her fog.
"Paige! You need anything?" Zelanski's voice causes her to jerk back. She looks up to see the DEA agent standing cautiously at the other side of the pool table, holding up an empty bottle asking her if she needs another.
Her beer is still relatively full, but obviously the man is just trying to interrupt the moment, which he has successfully done. Mike looks up at the ceiling in annoyance at the interruption. Paige ducks out of the small space his body has created for her between himself and the wall, taking the pool stick with her.
"Sure, Grab me another! Thanks." Paige calls perkily over to Bates, unable to hide the pleased smile on her lips as the two men fight over her. She can practically feel Mike's frustration behind her, and doesn't need to turn around to know he's leaning against the wall sipping his beer staring at her openly.
Bates walks over to the bar leaving Mike and Paige alone again, though they've distanced themselves. The moment is broken, and both of them are silently contemplating how close they just came to giving into temptation. Mike waits for Paige to make the next move, and she circles the pool table, plotting out what strategy to take next. Both with the game of pool and whatever game her and Mike are playing.
Mike sips his beer and watches her, not bothering to try to hide his staring the way he did last summer. He remembers playing pool at this very table with Paige almost a year ago. Back then he had tried to hide his infatuation, and Paige had ended up setting him up with Abby. This time, he wanted there to be no mistaking what he wanted, or who he wanted it with.
"You've changed." Paige comments as she lines up her shot.
"You haven't changed." Mike says, his voice wrapping around her like an embrace.
"I didn't leave." Paige replies, staring pointedly back at him over her shoulder. "You left, and DC changed you."
You made me go. Mike almost replies, but instead takes a deep swig of his beer and says in a lighthearted voice. "So you've said. I'm now an 'asshole'. Anything else?"
"Yeah."
"Such as?" Mike is almost afraid to ask.
"Well for one thing," Paige sinks her shot. "You're a lot worse at pool."
"I'm out of practice." Mike defends. Paige is about to turn around to continue teasing him, but then she feels possessive fingers digging into her hip. The heat of Mike's body presses against her back, as he reaches out to place his other hand where she's aiming the pool stick. His breath is hot in her ear as he whispers, "You want to teach me?"
His sudden closeness throws her off balance for a moment, and then she recovers. Shocked, but turned on by this change in Mike, she plays along, pressing her ass back against his hips.
"Well first…" Her voice is a low purr, "You need to decide what shot you want to take."
"Number Six." Mike whispers in her ear.
"You sure? Two's easier. Six's risky. If you miss, you might knock the eight ball in."
"I want six." Mike gives a small thrust against her hips. Not enough that anyone else would see, but enough that Paige can feel his hardness pressed against her jeans.
"Ok, so now that you know what you want, you plan your shot." Paige instructs, her voice strained.
"I know what I want." Mike's lips brush against her ear. She closes her eyes to try to find her concentration, and resists the urge to throw him down on the pool table right here and have her way with him.
"Then take your shot." Paige challenges.
Suddenly in one quick movement, Mike's fingers dig into Paige's hips and he pulls her away from the table. Grabbing the pool cue, he leans over and hits the balls in rapid succession, not even waiting for them to finish going into the pocket before he confidently takes his next shot. Paige suddenly remembers Briggs talking in awe about Mike's shooting skills, and she realizes those obviously translate to pool as well.
Looking up to give her a cocky wink he calls out, "Right corner pocket."
In one quick hit, Mike sinks the 8 ball in the pocket right in front of where Paige is standing. Walking over to her, he takes her beer from her and finishes it off. He raises an eyebrow at her, smirking, and waits for her reaction.
"Ok, so you're not bad at pool. Just an asshole." Paige says, but cannot keep the smile off her face as she stares at him in awe. She is so turned on right now.
"You're a good teacher." Mike shrugs modestly, but his smirk is unable to be hidden by the beer bottle.
"Bull shit!" Paige giggles.
"What do I win?" Mike asks huskily. Setting the empty bottle down, he leans in close to her again.
"What do you want?" Paige replies flirtily, taking a step towards him.
"Not to sleep on the couch again tonight." Mike places a hand on her hip. He's leaning in so close, she can smell his cologne.
"Well in that case…" Paige leans in close, her face tilted like she may kiss him. At the last moment she pulls away, taking the pool stick back from Mike, "...You better go convince Zelanski to give you back your room."
"What about Zelanski?" Bates comes over with perfect timing, and Paige exchanges the pool cue in her hand for the fresh beer.
"Nothing." Mike says, his eyes still glued to Paige, but giving up for now. "I'm going to go get a fresh drink. I believe you called the next game, Bates. You're against Paige. I lost this round. Watch out for that girl. She's a shark."
"Thanks Levi." Mike winces at the nickname from Bates. Paige watches him resist the urge to start a fight, but he accepts defeat graciously as he heads to join the rest of the group.
Paige watches Mike walk away with a predatory gaze. She's not ready to give in quite yet, she loves the game, but she knows where this is going. Maybe Mike hasn't changed as much as she thought, but something has definitely changed between them.
He won't be sleeping on the couch for long.