This is a one shot. I always wonder what happens that we don't see in an episode, the why or how of where they end up with the scenes we do see. This is one version of how Bo and Lauren end up, where well,they end up.
I don't own Lost Girl, sadly, I just take them to my playground every now and then.
Running.
Running. My latest obsession. It's a good enough obsession I suppose. One that gives me time to think; or not if I choose. Sometimes I just run, my mind blank, paying attention only to the slap of my shoes on the pavement. Sometimes I get so caught up in the rhythm and pace of my gait I forget everything else and that is bliss. No thoughts chasing through my mind, nothing about Fae politics, the drama of the week and most importantly no thoughts of Bo. Most of my waking moments and thoughts are consumed with Bo; keeping her safe, catching her attention, keeping her attention, trying to figure out how to NOT obsess over her. The list goes on and on. Concentrate Lauren, focus on the pace you're keeping, maybe you can make this run in under an hour, that'd be a personal best.
No matter what topic I have bouncing around in my mind, Bo always shows up, somehow. Seriously, how does that happen? I haven't seen her for about a week; she's been working some case with the Valkyrie, Tamsin. What a piece of work she is, snarky, strong, beautiful; right up Bo's alley. See, there it happened again, I'm thinking about my running pace and pop! there she is. Grrrrrrr! Killing me, she is literally killing me right now. Listen to the sound of your feet Lauren; slap, slap, slap, focus, find the rhythm. I run for a few more miles, mind blissfully blank. I come to the end of my route; check my phone for the stats.
Score one for the Doctor! Eight miles in 58.6 minutes, a new personal best. I sigh in relief. I kept her at bay for most of the run, but as I turn the corner, congratulating myself on the win, there she is, sitting on the hood of her Camaro. My wrist heart rate monitor beeps and I glance at it as she gracefully slides from the hood of the car, making her way to my door. I look back up and stop dead in my tracks. A smirk on her face, the dimple in prime sight, I sigh again, but not in relief, but in anticipation. She's been gone for a week and I have missed her. My heart begins to race and my already sweaty palms begin to itch, how I have missed her. I take the ear buds from my ears; reach with my keys to unlock my door.
I call to her, "Hey Bo, what are you doing here?"
"There you are. Got a minute?"
"For?" I really don't care what she's here for, she's here! I hear her mumble something under her breath. Did she just say 'I'll think of something'?
"Uh sure, come on in." I motion for her to go ahead of me as I open the door.
No sooner do I shut the door behind us, her hands are everywhere. Since when did she become so handsy? Not that I'm complaining, but our encounters are usually more, um subdued? Not all of them in our history sure, but lately it's just longing looks across test tubes at the clinic or short innuendo filled phone calls. I thought she needed a friend and was trying to fill the void. I did tell her she stole my heart when she had that feeding problem, but that was weeks ago. Nothing changed after and Dyson took one for the team that day satisfying her hunger, not me. So why are her hands on my hips, her lips on my neck, pressing me up against the door? Most importantly, why am I questioning it? I question everything, that's why.
Pushing her back so I can see her eyes, was that a tiny flash of blue? "Bo, what are you doing here?"
Shaking her head, licking her lips, she glances up, "I was in the neighborhood…."
"Oh." What kind of response is that? You have, what is very well the love of your life, all over you and you say, "oh"? Not exactly an eloquent response. My thoughts halt as her hands are back on my hips, her lips capturing mine, pushing me back against the door. She sucks my top lip between her teeth, a small moan escapes her. Releasing my lip she whispers "and I was hungry."
My eyes flutter open, "Ok, give me about 20 minutes…" I don't have the chance the finish my thought as she captures my lips again, more urgent now, sliding over the corner of my mouth she trails sloppy, open mouthed kisses down my throat, licking my collar bone.
"Bo, wait… wait, just give me 20 minutes to shower, I'm a sweaty mess." She lazily drags her eyes up to mine, the look in her eyes, possessive and hungry, causes my breath to catch in my throat, she places her finger over my lips, silencing my protest. Shaking her head back and forth, licking the fruit of my exertion from her lips, she murmurs in my ear, "Mmmm, I'm kind of in the mood for a salty snack."
Who am I to argue with that? I take her hand and lead her towards the bedroom. I'll shower later…maybe.