Disclaimer: Not mine, so sir. Title comes from the song by the same name by Sister Hazel.
A/N: So I've never written a story for "The Fast and the Furious" before, or in this case "Fast and Furious" but I was feeling a little in the mood so I churned this one out. We'll see how it goes. Review if you feel so inclined, it will help get me through finals week. But be sure to enjoy!
It had never occurred to him that she wouldn't be here. Maybe it had been stupid, naïve, a little too 1940's but Brian O'Connor had honestly expected to find Mia Toretto exactly the way he had left her: trying to make a house a home, a wry smile on her face in spite of the weariness in her eyes and a spot in her stubborn heart for him. It was a reunion he'd let himself envision time and time again, when he was in the mood to let down his defenses and imagine life in some other place, not necessarily another life but life at the moment he was living, somewhere else. While he was shaving in the morning, he thought about what Mia was doing at the moment, though he had the feeling he could never peg her quite right. Something too domestic seemed out of place but he also couldn't imagine her trying to shower off the events of a particularly wild night, still a little drunk as she washed off stale cigarette smoke and maybe a bad decision or too. Most of the time he thought about her the way she had looked sleeping beside him, vulnerable for a few hours, laying on her stomach, a crooked smile on her lips.
When he was feel particularly sadistic, Brian let himself imagine what it would be like to go back to the Toretto house, to try and make up for five years of separation, for everything he had done to hurt her, to put a little more weariness into her eyes. The house she'd worked so hard to build he'd managed to destroy with one well-meaning (had it really been?) swipe of his hand. He saw himself walking up those steps, his hands in the pockets of his jeans, an apologetic but determined expression all ready on his face. Maybe there was someone working in the garage, maybe the house was silent, that really wasn't important. What was important was what happened after his knock on the door had been answered. Sometimes she was drying her hands on a towel, having been in the middle of washing dishes or sometimes she was putting her hair up, taking off her glasses after she'd been indulging herself in a chapter or two in the book she'd been reading. But that wasn't important. What was important was Mia's face when she opened the door to find him standing there. If Brian was being particularly indulgent, his fantasy Mia pushed open the screen door and threw her arms around him, tossing the towel or the glasses or the whatever into the grass behind him so her arms were free to hold him. If he was being particularly truthful, his fantasy Mia slapped him across the face and slammed the door shut behind her.
Now that he was actually walking up those stairs, Brian wasn't entirely sure what to expect. He had been right about one thing though, the house was silent, no sounds coming from the garage, the only sounds at all coming from a few houses down: a dog barking as it got tossed out for some infraction or another. The windows were open but there wasn't a sound coming from inside the house, no television or running water or noise of domesticity.
Brian stuffed his hands into his pockets, clearing his throat as he waited for his knock to be answered. He hadn't thought about what he would say, figuring that Mia's reaction would determine that. There was no fantasy Mia now, just the girl he'd left behind and he was all ready bracing himself for that solid slap across the face.
But the next step to his mental wanderings never came. There was no sound of footsteps coming to answer his knock, no familiar lilting voice calling out "just a minute" as she hurried to put a stop to whatever she was doing. Brian knocked again, feeling both a sense of disappointment and brief anxiety. He knew she still lived here, he'd seen her Acura in the driveway and he quickly, albeit briefly, thought about Letty and what had happened to her and the fact that being a Toretto wasn't exactly a seal of approval at any given time.
His second knock still received no answer, so he tried the door handle, surprised to find it turned easily under his grasp, allowing him entry into the house he thought about so often.
As Brian stepped into the living room, he realized that it had never occurred to him that she wouldn't be there. Never in his fantasies, his indulgences, had he imagined coming home to an empty house. He stood in the living room for a moment, trying to deal with the feelings of invasion he was currently suffering through. There was a cup of what looked like tea on the coffee table and beside it a dog-eared book and her glasses folded carefully on top. Brian felt a little better, it didn't look like she'd been interrupted in the middle of anything or like she'd left in a hurry. It was as though Mia had suddenly grown bored with one task and moved on to another.
Deciding to push aside the idea of invasion of privacy, Brian moved through the house, taking in the familiar sights and smells. It hadn't changed much since he'd last been here, though it was a little cleaner and less noisy. It was as though Mia had left everything the way it was, trying to preserve a time that had been changed. The way the house of cards had looked before he'd blown it down.
Moving through the house brought back a flood of memories, not just of the time he'd spent with Dom trying to weasel his way into the man's good graces but also of the spare moments he'd had with Mia between these walls. He'd always felt as though their time had been few and far between, brief and somewhat unsatisfying (though, of course, that wasn't always the case). But somewhere in the middle of their stolen moments he'd managed to develop something like love for her and was sure she felt the same way, or at least she had.
They hadn't had much time alone, always under the sisterly eye of Letty, the jealous eye of Vince or the scathing eye of Dom. But they'd had their moments, times when even Mia had seemed relieved to be away from the crowd. As he moved into the kitchen, Brian thought about how they had returned to the house on their way to dinner on their first (and last) date, how Mia had exclaimed with an unlady-like "shit!" that she had forgotten her purse and then had elicited a few honks as she'd turned the car abruptly around.
It had been a welcome surprise to find that the house had cleared out in the brief time they'd been away and Brian hadn't hesitated in putting his hand on the small of her back, feeling her warm skin beneath his palm. And Mia had smiled at him, a gesture that managed to be both insanely seductive and innocent as the same time.
The first place Mia had stopped was the kitchen. She's opened the refrigerator, which had caused him to laugh as he leaned against the door frame. "You keep your purse in an unusual place, Mia." He'd remarked.
Mia had turned around, a thoughtful expression on her face and a half-empty bottle of champagne in her hand. "I have no idea where I left it." She had confessed, moving in his direction. She'd pulled the cork off the bottle, took a small sip and then, as if on second thought, another before handing the bottle to him. "It could be awhile."
Brian hadn't been sure of what else to do so he sipped from the bottle and followed her around (without trying to make it seem like that was what he was doing) as she searched for the missing object. Brian couldn't help but retrace that route now, though it was far less interesting without Mia for company.
Half-heartedly, he had flipped over an abandoned jacket with the toe of his shoe. "Where did you last see it?" He'd asked, watching her as she bopped around from room to room.
Mia had shrugged thoughtfully, coming to stand in front of him for just a moment, only long enough to take a sip from the bottle without taking it out of his hands. When she'd moved away again, he took a drink, imagining that he could still feel her lips against the glass. "Maybe you would have an easier time of remembering if you weren't intoxicated." He'd teased.
From down the hallway, Mia had laughed and within seconds she had emerged again. "What was that, Brain O'Connor?" She'd questioned with a raised eyebrow, her purse dangling triumphantly by a finger.
Brian had laughed, shaking his head. He had followed her into the kitchen to put the bottle back in the fridge and when he had done so, shutting the door, she'd surprised him by kissing him, taking his face in her hands and bringing their lips together, briefly but just long enough. She had tasted like champagne, though so much sweeter and far more intoxicating. Before he'd had the chance to put his arms around her, she had pulled away and was heading toward the door, beckoning him to follow.
Standing in the kitchen now, Brian was disappointed that he couldn't remember the taste of the champagne on her lips. He opened the fridge but it contained only the necessities now and a few unopened bottles of Corona, just in case.
In that moment, five years hardly seemed like any time at all but it was just enough and Brian regretted the way things had turned out. He regretted how he had caused this empty house and had cost Mia so many things. But most of all, he hated the fact that Mia thought he'd only been with her to get to Dom, that all he'd seen in her was Dom's sister and not the captivating, if slightly intimidating girl that he still thought about every day. The one he had hoped to see now, the one he'd hoped would be standing on the other side of the door when he'd knocked. Because it wasn't Dom he'd come looking for.
With nothing more keeping him in the house, Brian turned and left the way he had come, getting in his car and backing down the driveway and heading back toward the station with a heavy sense of disappointment filling his body. He took the elevator to his floor, ignored his fellow passengers and when he stepped out he pretended he didn't hear it when another officer called his name.
He was moving toward his desk when he glanced up into the integration room and saw her sitting there, tense and impatient on the bench while the man across from her fired questions at her that she had no intention of answering. Brian was surprised to see her sitting there, almost unsure of whether she was real or not if his wishful thinking was getting the better of him.
But Mia lifted her head and glanced in his direction, as though she could feel his eyes on her. And it might have been just his wishful thinking, but it seemed as though she had been waiting for him. It had never occurred to him that she would be here when he got back.