I am absolutely obsessed with the Uncharted series right now and my first reaction to its fanfiction page was "WHAT?! No M rated fics?" So I was totally gonna write an M rated fic but the resolve kind of petered out after a while… so here's a nice T fic just for you =) If you would like to see an M rated continuation, please leave a comment and if there are sufficient requests, I'll get right to it!

Disclaimer: Nothing's mine. All gone to The Dog. Wish Drake was though.

Btw, does anybody else feel more comfortable referring to him as Drake rather than Nathan or Nate? I stuck with the latter two for this story but I often slip into calling him Drake during convos and such. Anyhoo, enjoy!

Elena sat at the hotel bar, stirring her cocktail with her umbrella. This was totally unlike her in two ways. One, she hardly ever drank alone, and two, never so flamboyantly. A plain gin and tonic suited her very well on most days but she had been out of sorts lately, ever since her fierce quarrel with Nathan Drake.

Nathan was her… acquaintance… friend with benefits… boyfriend… Elena had not really made up her mind but who cares and to hell with that bastard she thought, as she tipped the blue liquid down her throat and slammed the empty glass on the countertop. All he cared about was leaping headfirst into the next adventure, the next opportunity, with no regard for her concern for him. Of course it all came out wrong when she tried to tell him how worried she was, and soon words like "selfish" and "irresponsible" which weren't particularly suitable for harmonious relations were being thrown around. She missed his gruff voice, his 5 o'clock shadow that appeared at 3 o'clock, the way he would look up suddenly from his work and stare endlessly at her, as if she was the focus of his life and everything else mere distractions. Their cold war was into its third week now and he hadn't tried to contact her in any way. At first Elena was sad and hurt, then angry, but now it had faded into an empty ache that she was desperately trying to fill with alcohol.

"Hey Blondie."

Elena spun around when she heard the familiar voice and nickname.

"Daniel!"

Daniel had been her older brother's best friend growing up, and she'd had a crush on him, ever since he offered her the last bite of his ice cream sundae one summer. But that puppy love was past now, and to her, he was just a very dear friend. Elena reached out to hug him and as her arms encircled his neck and broad shoulders, she tried to imagine she was hugging Nathan, but the fantasy did not last long, if at all. Daniel was too different from Nathan. Though they were of about the same build, Daniel had curly blond hair (which made his nickname for her a sort of joke between them both) and blue eyes that shone readily with a brightness that she only saw in Nathan's when they were lying in bed together in pitch darkness and he was looking at her, as if the intensity of his soul hid from the sunlight but could eclipse the blackest of nights.

Also… Daniel used Davidoff Cool Water cologne. Definitely the most un-Nathanish smell around. Elena pulled away and patted the seat beside her, indicating that he should sit down. They got to talking and soon Elena was laughing and chattering excitedly, happier than she'd been in weeks.

Meanwhile, things weren't going so hot for the dark figure in the corner of the room. His whiskey glass had been empty for the last 20 minutes and the last time it had been filled (his fifth) the waiter had looked at him like he couldn't possibly afford another drink. Also, in the 10 seconds he'd taken his eyes off the pretty blond girl at the bar to call for another drink, some Matthew McConaughey look alike had managed to snag a seat next to her and engage her in what looked like very thrilling conversation. The two even looked like they had some… history between them. Nathan Drake gave a bad tempered grunt as he stood up to go to the washroom and stumbled, banging his knee on the table. Must be the alcohol getting to me, he thought.

It wasn't that he didn't care about, or had given up on Elena. He had been avoiding her because her accusations rang true. He did love running around and right into danger with nothing but his gun strap and holster and the shirt on his back. But he also loved, especially loved, snuggling up to the soft body next to him, rather than the dying embers of a campfire, and using his stealth tactics to sneak across the glossy kitchen tiles to bear hug Elena from behind, at once startling and playful, but also fully protective of her. Nathan had been struggling with this conundrum with the better part of the last month, and, being unable to give Elena a conclusive answer, he hadn't wanted to talk to her for fear of sparking another row. He had, however, been watching her as she went about her daily activities, as if she was just as likely to require protection in the canned food aisle as she was in the middle of a godforsaken, malarial rainforest.

After coming back out from the washroom, Nathan didn't feel like returning to his dingy spot, and so skulked in a corner, not far from the conversing pair at the bar. He watched as Elena excused herself and stood up. She was walking closer and closer, towards him… but she made an abrupt right turn and headed for the ladies. Nathan made an involuntary move forward to catch a whiff of her scent. She smelt like… men's cologne. Nathan's throat tightened and he clenched his fists. It was bad enough that his girl was acting so chummy with some guy at a bar, but if she smelt like him too… there could only be one explanation.

Nathan walked up to the bar and grabbed Daniel's shirt collar in his hands.

"You sleeping with my girl?"

Whoa excuse me…"

"You better back off punk, or I'll…"

"Nate! What are you doing? Let him go!"

Nathan's eyes never left Daniel as he made a jerking motion with his head.

"That's my girl back there, you got that, huh?"

"Nathan Drake, I'm not your girl!"

This outburst stunned Nathan. He turned slowly, his face full of pain, to look at the beautiful blond girl standing behind him.

Elena regretted those words the moment they left her mouth, and a shadow of regret flitted across her face. But she couldn't be sure if Nathan caught that because as he turned, Daniel's fist collided with his left temple.

As Nathan Drake came to, he felt himself lying on the familiar soft fabric of his couch, and felt the familiar soft touch of fingers in his hair. He opened his eyes slightly to see Elena hovering over him with a concerned look in her eyes, holding a sponge in one hand while the other pushed his hair tenderly out of his face. He couldn't help but give a blissful little smile. But when Elena saw that Nathan had awoken, her expression immediately hardened and she turned around, making to walk away.

"Don't go," Nathan managed to croak as he clung on to her wrist.

"How can you say that? How can you say that when I haven't seen you or heard from you for the last 3 weeks…"

Nathan wasn't really listening to her outburst as another uncomfortable memory hit him. He tugged at her fingers, trying to get her attention.

"…and now you're lying there, once again the victim of your own bravado…"

He tugged again.

"…how can I… Wha-What?"

"You said you weren't my girl."

The honesty and inherent question of the statement stopped her short.

"Well… I don't know… I'm pretty confused myself… given what happened… and hey, come to think of it, you haven't even asked me have you?"

Now it was Nathan's turn to backpedal a bit. He hadn't, in fact, officially asked Elena Fisher if she would be his girlfriend. He'd just kind of assumed that to be the natural progression of events when a guy had taken a few bullets, and some, for a girl. Well, better late than never he thought.

"Elena Fisher, will you be my girlfriend?"

Elena stopped to look, really look, at the man lying on the couch. His face read like a love letter that he would never be subtle enough to write, but his uncertain smile, his deep eyes, not to mention the fast swelling bump on the side of his head all told the story of how much he loved her. How many mornings had she sat stroking his unruly stubble as he slept, counting his scars and the lines on his forehead, wondering which ones were the result of his unrelenting care for her?

She gave a defeated sigh and dropped onto the couch next to Nathan's head.

"And what does that entail? Bar fights aren't exactly my cup of tea."

Nathan nuzzled her side happily and turned to face her, putting his head on her lap. His hands, started a slow, upward ascent from her hips.

"I'm sure we can work out the details later…"

Gah. Sorry for the lame ending but I'll be busy for the next few days and if I don't get this out now it'll never see the light of day. If you want more, just R&R! In fact, an idea for a prequel just came to mind =)