one too many for the road
mad men/bond, don draper/vesper lynd, 400 words, rating pg,
notes: girlyevil and I love ridiculous crossovers that involve very attractive people and very broken hearts.
He's on his third drink, fingers a little looser around the glass and his tie isn't what it used to be when Roger let's out a low whistle, shoulder colliding with his own.
Don follows the line vision marked out by his cigar.
Pale skin, long legs- the light twists around her- Roger is crude- and she holds herself well.
"Now that-" husks Roger in his ear- "Is worth staying up for."
His mouth curves- she's looking at them now, eye brows lift up from those pretty eyes with faint disdain. He raises his glass and she looks away.
"Following me, Mr. Draper?"
Her voice is as crisp at the night air- he stumbles a little at the accent.
"And why would you think that?" He's trying hard to mask the slur at this point, palm pressed to the wall that she's resting against.
Her lips twist. It's quizzical, teasing and releases an oddly familiar sort of lightness in his chest.
"Well you were there- when I was there."- she nods vaguely at the bar across the street- "And now, you're here. Right after me. So, I have to ask- are you following me?"
His hand gestures towards the curb, fishing out the keys from his pocket and (Christ, the watch-it's late)
- "That's my car."
It doesn't seem to faze her much but she pulls the grey wool of her coat tighter around her body and pulls her gaze back to the dark. Don allows himself a moment of glory- victory (but he'd imagined it being sweeter-) and his eyes dark back to her lips.
"Now, the question is- are you following me, M-" He stops- one hand reaches for a thin white wrist and tugs till her face tilted beneath his.
"How do you know my name? And why don't I know yours?"
She laughs, the sound sweeping over him even as his grip on her tightens. She slips out of his grasp with more ease than he'd like to admit and her hair brushes the side of his face, lips close to his ear.
"Perhaps-"her perfect white teeth brush his skin- "Perhaps you just don't remember."
He's left leaning against the wall while she walks away. She doesn't look back. Just tosses the keys to his car on the sidewalk.
He can smell gin when he closes his mouth- the night tastes bitterer than he remembers.