Five Times Walter and Paige Almost Kissed (And One Time They Did) #3
WeBuiltThePyramids
Summary: Part 3. Walter wonders if he's supposed to kiss Paige. Takes place during "Charades." A "5 Things" fic collaboration by WeBuiltThePyramids, WriterFreak001 and FoxPhile. Cover Art designed by WriterFreak001.
Author's Note: This fic is part of a collaboration between WeBuiltThePyramids, WriterFreak001 and FoxPhile inspired by discussions on the Scorpion FanFiction thread on FanForum. Each author has written two stories that, together, make up the collection. The stories are best read in order. You can find information on the next story in the series at the end of this chapter. Links to all the stories can be found on my profile page.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own /scorpion. This story is for entertainment purposes only. I make no profit and no infringement of copyrights is intended.
Walter simply didn't understand how he wasn't flirting back.
Paige was shifting her body, tossing her hair, giving him a look, which, according to her, was flirting. Walter had never flirted, but didn't that mean someone wanted attention? Wasn't Paige's flirting supposed to be sending the message that she wanted him to be unable to notice anything but her? He was staring at her, focused, giving her all his time. What exactly was she expecting him to do? Toss his hair? Her hair was nice. Her hair fell around her shoulders and glided fluidly with the momentum caused by the movement of her body. His hair didn't do that. He couldn't think of a single thing to do other than watch her vibe him, whatever that meant. She had all of his attention, but she wasn't satisfied. Maybe he wasn't trying hard enough – he did find watching her move like that, seeing her eyes occasionally meet his, easy and enjoyable; maybe it was supposed to be difficult? Unpleasant? He tried something else, a more firm stare. There were other particularly interesting things in the room, a telescope, a spectrometer Happy was fixing, several textbooks, but he wasn't looking at them. He was looking at her, and it still, apparently, wasn't good enough.
She gave up without providing him feedback as to what he was doing wrong.
She warned him that the spy might try to touch him, probably would try to touch him, and he reacted. "No. I don't enjoy contact." As soon as the words came out of his mouth, he knew what she was thinking. She's not going to care if you enjoy contact, Einstein. She's got a mission just like we do.
He assured her he'd be prepared, which ignited a glint in her eyes, a challenge. She stepped toward him, closing the distance between them slowly and deliberately, stopping with mere inches between them.
People had stood close to him before. But not like this.
Not like this? What the hell did that mean? She was just standing there. But for some reason, Walter felt suddenly different.
And then she wasn't just standing there.
She was running her hands up his arms, sure, not something that happened every day, but certainly nothing that should be affecting him this much. Her proximity was making him start to sweat, and he felt that now all too familiar confusion seeping through at the feel of her, at the slow pace that she took up his body.
He wasn't comfortable with touch; she knew that and he knew that's why she was touching him; she was helping him prepare to pretend to be seduced by Sima. He remembered the night they met, regretting that his words had prevented her from resting her hand on his knee, far less intimate contact than they were having now. Maybe if she had put her hand there that night, he would have flinched. He certainly would have recoiled if she'd done what she was doing now, as utterly fascinating as he'd found her. But as she slid her hands to his neck, as she asked him, repeatedly, if it was okay, he got this suspicious feeling that for all her good intentions, she wasn't helping him prepare for the mission. When she touched him, when she ran her hands over him, it wasn't where she was touching him that felt wrong – it was where she had just touched him, where her hands had just left, that felt the most unpleasant. His body wasn't reacting negatively to the contact; the areas her hands had moved on from were missing it.
Walter O'Brien had never been agitated by the lack of someone's touch and it was throwing him off. A quiet sound came from deep in his throat.
"And if she got...close?"
He already thought she was close. But suddenly she was closer. Her hands were moving up, and she was everywhere. Her tone dropped, and so did his eyes.
What if this woman tried to kiss him? He knew he should be considering the possibility of the spy trying to kiss him, but all he could imagine was the woman in front of him asking and...and if she did...this? and brushing her lips against his, and he knew he wouldn't mind. If she closed her lips around one of his, if she applied gentle pressure against his mouth, he knew that he wouldn't balk. Everything around him was slowly fading away; Paige in contrast seemed as clear as the next move on a chess board. He remembered explaining to her the night they met that he wasn't actually staring at her chest, that he was zoning out and processing observations. This time, he was finding it impossible to do that, to push her presence out of his head while he thought about what was happening, about the mission, about anything else, he couldn't do it. His eyes were half closed, but she wasn't putting him to sleep, no, this was as alert and aware of her as he could ever remember being, about anything.
"This could happen."
He wasn't even sure he knew what she was saying anymore. He just knew he liked hearing her speak and her lips were close to his and he found himself waiting, wanting her to suggest that maybe this spy may try this, may try to press her mouth to his and catch his lips between her own and kiss him absolutely senseless and could you handle that, Walter? How about we see? For the good of the mission?
He wondered if maybe he should try kissing Paige. She had told him to pick up her vibe and return it, to act as if he was interested, and if they weren't playacting right now, if he didn't know better, he would genuinely believe that Paige Dineen was thinking about kissing him. Of course she wasn't thinking about that – she didn't think about him that way – but she was doing a good job of putting on a front, such a good job.
He came back to himself then, clearing his throat, declaring that no matter what this spy threw at him, he would be ready. He would be. He had to be – it was impossible to be more unsure than he was right now, even if anything that happened tonight would be in a different way.
He knew if the spy tried to touch him, it would make him uncomfortable. But he'd manage.
He watched Paige go. If he had to, he'd just pretend she was her. Because he knew, now, that he could certainly handle that.
End Note: Make sure you check out the next story in this series, written by the amazing WriterFreak001. Links to all the stories can be found on my profile page. I hope you enjoy reading the entire series! If so – let us know. Reviews are welcome.