Disclaimer: I own nothing related to any CW universe including, but not limited to, characters, names of places, lyrics, dialogue, or any other piece of product. CW retains all the rights to their universes. I am making no money or receiving any kind of compensation, material or non-material, for this fiction. It's all for fun. Please don't sue me. I do claim the writing, the idea behind this particular narrative, and any peripheral characters or locations created to augment CW's work.
A/N: Because I am addicted to crap TV and this is one of my favorite shows. I need season four to start. Yesterday.
Except not because I do not want them to deal with Rachel Bilson's pregnancy. UGH. This show should not give me this many feelings.
o000o
Zoe Hart's strongest allegiance is to herself, and Wade knows that. As long as she gets what she wants, when she wants it, she is happy. The rest is collateral damage. He's been part of that damage a time or two before, so shame on her for thinking he'll just dive in. Shame on her, dammit, shame on her.
But shame on him because it has been three days since the wedding weekend from hell and the only thing he can think about is the shape of her mouth when it wrapped around the words I love you. He knows he has way better things to think about. He isn't sure what those things are at the moment, but he knows they are there.
His mama always said that knowing is half of the battle.
Whatever the hell that means.
o000o
He doesn't know what to do with himself.
The night air sticks to his skin, thick and hot, and he should go work on the busted box unit in his window but he doesn't. It is late and it will be noisy. The last thing he needs is Little-Miss-High-and-Mighty storming over here in one of Joel's old t-shirts and lecturing him on respecting others need for sleep. Or maybe that is exactly what he does need. Not the lecture, but her.
No.
He's been down that road. So has she. Hell they went down it together and it didn't end well.
He goes to his fridge instead and looks inside. He has just enough beer to get good and drunk if he drinks them all in a row.
That is just what he does.
o000o
"Well hello there stranger." She slides up to his bar. "What are the odds of finding you here?"
He owns the place, so the odds are excellent. He knows she knows that. Just like he knows she spent time practicing that opening line in her mirror.
It is just after the morning rush at the Rammer Jammer. She calculated the best time to trap him in this conversation because she calculates everything down to the frilly blouse she is wearing that would have been downright modest if it wasn't as thin as a mosquito wing.
"You're the one who is good at math. You tell me." His head is foggy from last night's beer and he leans his elbows on the bar to brace himself for the onslaught.
"So… it has been a couple of days since, you know, I pledged my undying devotion or whatever. I just wanted you to know that I am still totally on board with that and…" She digs into her designer purse and pulls out a small wrapped box. "Ta-da! In case for some reason you didn't take me seriously - I got you a present."
She sets the box on the bar and it is the only thing more out of place in this bar than the petite New York City doctor. The package is pristine down the invisible tape on measured wrapping paper with a jazzy bow on top. Up against the scarred sticky wood of his bar - it is the perfect visual aid for just how different two people could be.
"Look - Zoe -" He starts, but she holds up one hand.
"You don't have to open it now. I know. I get it. This is going to take time. There is a lot going on right now and we haven't had the greatest luck - but I want you to have it." She pushes the box towards him and it takes every ounce of self-control not to move away from it like a rattler poised to bite. "Take it. Open it. Whenever. Whatever. Because I am patient and I can wait for you to be ready on your own time."
She tries her best to be casual, but she is practically twitching with nervous energy and makes him uncomfortable.
"Yeah. Sure, Doc."
He knows she wants him to say more - do more - but he cannot. Not here, not now. Not when she is flittering like a hummingbird and his head is full of cotton. Why in the hell did she have to wear those shorts?
Wade pushes back off of his elbows and throws his bar rag over his shoulder. He does not touch the package. He did the grand gesture thing for her before, and then she included him in a mass email telling Bluebell to go suck an egg. He anger boils up at the memory, both at her and at himself for still letting it matter so much, and it is about time she get a taste of her own medicine.
"You're seriously not going to open it?" Glossed lips hand open in disbelief and there's his girl. Patient his ass.
"I'm doing it on my time. Seems like I remember someone saying that would be just fine." He pushes her buttons, anger swelling.
"Yeah. Okay. Right. Great." She forces enthusiasm and plasters on a smile which makes him angrier. He hates when she does that. Hates when she pushes down her fight to pacify anyone. "Well. If I don't go now - I will be late. You know how Brick loves to rub it in my face when I am late."
He did. He shrugs tight shoulders, trying to not look at the package or at her. He fails at both.
"Great. Then. Goodbye Wade." She does that awkward head bow thing that she does whenever anything is even the slightest bit awkward or serious.
"Goodbye, Doc." He doesn't nod back.
The second she leaves, he throws the little box on the top shelf behind the Goldschlager and does his damndest not to think about it.
It takes him a solid week before it is the only thing he can think about.
o000o
He swears if she uses the fuse box as an excuse to see him again, he will reconsider the merits of the Amish lifestyle. At least the no electricity part. He could always use Lavon's fridge for milk.
It is the eleventh day in a row that the fuse box blows and he knows she will be waiting there with a pastry or coffee or some cleavage and he is just not in the mood. This is the week that Earl gets his government check and Wade is just waiting for his dad to turn back into a screw up. Because that is what happens in his life. Things don't just stay good. They didn't with his mom, or his dad, or Zoe, or Vivian, and there is no way he is going to add Zoe Again to his list of failures.
He is a backwards Cinderella story with way more beer.
Zoe is not at the fuse box today though. There is no pastry, coffee, or cleavage and he is only really upset about one of those three. He flips a few breakers and does his level best to not think about why Zoe wasn't waiting for him for him.
What if she finally fried herself with that damn fancy coffee machine? Or critically burned her hand with a curling iron? Or taken a hairdryer into the tub with her? He knows how those stories go.
He also knows that it is none of his damn business to go to that cottage house across the lake and knock on her door. That is the job of a boyfriend, or Lavon, or the sheriff, or anyone else but him. He goes anyway because if something had happened to her and he didn't do anything - well - that would be hard to swallow. It isn't that he cares.
Because he doesn't.
He's just being neighborly.
He gives three sharp raps and then he loops his thumbs into his jeans and tries not to think about what he is doing. He won't go in, no matter what. He's already told himself that. No extraordinary measures.
Wait. Extraordinary measures? He'd heard her say that once, about keeping someone alive, and the memory spooks him. What if she is dead and he found her like that?
No. He cannot do that. He will not. People being neighborly do not bust into other people's homes and find them dead.
He waits seventeen seconds, not quite able to make it to twenty he tells himself he'll wait, and he is down the porch steps when the door rattles behind him.
"Wade?" Her voice catches him mid-step.
She is fine, and relief is secondary to how much he feels like an idiot.
"Uh - hey Doc." He rubs the back of his neck and turns around.
She is fresh out of the shower. Her body is wrapped in that giant old robe with a towel around her hair. He knows just what she would smell like if he got close enough.
"Did you need something?"
"No - uh - just wanted you to know I fixed the fuse box." He rocks onto his toes and looks across the lake. "I'm off to the Rammer Jammer now though, so if you blow it again, it is up to you."
He turns on his heel to go, angry for caring if she was anything but fine, and her voice catches him again.
"Hey!"
He looks back over his shoulder.
"Thanks."
She smiles. He smiles and looks at his feet.
"Anytime, Doc." He means it. He hates how much he means it.
He knows she watches him walk away.
o000o
"What exactly are your intentions with Zoe?" Lavon asks.
It is pancake morning at the mayor's house and Zoe is long gone to start her day at the practice leaving the two men alone.
"What do you mean?" Wade shoves a bite into his mouth to not have to say more.
"Do you love her?"
The pancakes turn to dirt in his mouth.
"Lavon."
"It's a simple question."
Like hell it is.
"Zoe and I - we've done this before. We've tried. It didn't work."
"That's not what I asked."
"What you asked doesn't matter."
"Seems to me like it matters a great deal."
Wade sets his fork down and rubs a hand over his face.
"Nothing is going to happen." He feels each word heavy on his tongue because saying it out loud makes it real.
Lavon leans back against his counter and folds his arms across his chest.
"Why don't I believe that?" He asks.
Wade looks at his half-finished plate and no pancakes are worth this interrogation. He shovels one last huge bite in his mouth before hopping out of his stool and heading towards the door.
"Don't rightly know," Wade manages around his food. "But since you're so good at asking questions, maybe you should work on getting better at answering them."
"Wade..." Lavon only uses this voice when he is about to launch into some big speech. Wade does not plan on giving him that chance.
"That new fuse box is on the fritz again. You may want to check your warranty on that thing."
He is out the door before Lavon can say another word.
o000o
It was easier when it was war between them. Or at least when it was war for him. Hating Zoe is so much easier than - well - anything else.
So he tries to hate her. He tries to be annoyed with all the little things she does, with all the big things she does, with everything about her but, dammit, he can't. He can't find one reason to think she is anything but perfect for him.
But she isn't.
If she really was perfect for him, they would be together. That was how perfect worked. So they are not perfect.
Not even close, but somehow that is perfect. They are both fucked beyond reason
The way that his heart keeps interfering with his head is twice as infuriating as anything Zoe does.
Hating her isn't the easiest thing anymore, but hating himself has always been second nature.
o000o
There is a spot on Zoe's neck which he knows, from experience, makes her knees buckles when he bites it just right.
Whenever he can talk to her, or look at her, or stand in the same room as her without fixating on that spot he rewards himself. Since casual sex (and its consequences) has lost its appeal, his reward often comes in liquid form.
He rewards himself an awful lot.
o000o
It is Tom and Wanda's pregnancy announcement party (which was ridiculous in his opinion because the entire town already knows) but he goes anyway. Hell - he was Tom's best man (though he still does not quite understand how that happened). The Long's house is packed to the gills, but Wade stays on the fringes in direct sight of the exit in case the evening gets too weird.
Not that the whole thing isn't weird to begin with and Wade would have been long gone, but Meatball brings some moonshine. Wade fills a glass and takes a sip whenever anything freaks him out. Which is pretty often, all things considered.
There are games about guessing the gender, predicting the due date, and Wade is watching a dizzy Cricket try to pin the bundle on the stork when Zoe walks in.
She is dressed like this is the social event of the season with a skirt up to there and heels that defy the laws of physics. Her clothes are all dark sparkles and lots of skin, but he cannot say he minds the view. That is until she spots him almost as quickly as he spotted her and beelines for him.
She walks like she is on a mission, and Wade knows from experience that he is in trouble. Good view be damned, she had a plan and that was terrifying.
"I didn't know you were going to be here." She says as she gets close and he almost believes her.
"Well, Tom invited half the town and Wanda invited the other half. Seems like you had as good of chance as ever." He shoves his free hand into his jeans pocket because he doesn't trust his hands around her when she is dressed like this. Especially when he has a good moonshine buzz going.
"Invited and actually showing up are two different things though." She says.
"I'm here for Tom." Truth is he hasn't said so much as 'hello' to the guy, but she doesn't need to know that.
"Yeah? That's cool. I guess I am here for both of them. I was kind of instrumental in getting them here, after all." She isn't gloating, but something about the way she says it irks him.
"Getting people pregnant isn't something most people brag about, Doc. If it was, I could stop wearing condoms." He isn't being nice and he knows it but he really cannot stand here and talk to her looking like that and not make some kind of stupid decision.
"Ew. Wade!" She slaps his arm.
"I'm just sayin', Doc. People a lot dumber than me have been knocking people up for as long as we've walked God's green earth."
"Sometimes it isn't that simple."
"And sometimes it is."
She is angry. He can tell by the set of her high-gloss lips and dammit if he doesn't want to taste them. He looks over the top of her head and takes a swallow.
"Look. I'm the one with the medical degree here. I think I know a thing or two about making babies."
"Seems like I remember having to teach you quite a bit."
The moonshine still burns in his throat, but he takes another mouthful because he doesn't want to hurt her but he cannot have her standing in front of him looking so damn edible.
Her mouth hangs open, smile long gone, and there is that spark in her eye that lets him know she is done playing nice. He grits his teeth.
"What is your problem?" Not loud enough to draw attention, but this is not polite conversation anymore.
"What is your problem?" Immature at best, but seriously.
"I don't have a problem! I am the one who is expressing their feelings like an adult and is trying to be honest." She spreads her arms and more people take notice.
"Oh you want honest?" He shouldn't, but he is so damn tired of her high horse.
"Yeah. That would be nice!" The music seems louder now because people have stopped talking and are watching them but he is too drunk to care.
"Okay. Well - here's your honest." He really shouldn't. "I am not your damn placeholder, Zoe Hart." Her name slur together.
Her brow furrows. "What?"
He really, really shouldn't, but doing what he should do is not his strong suit.
"I am not your backup plan, Zoe. You don't get to -" He pauses and looks at her. There is no going back after this. "Just because you got lonely for Joel at a wedding and because Golden Boy George isn't interested in you at the moment doesn't mean you get to say you love me in front of the whole damn town!"
He is louder than he means to be and the festivities grind to a halt. Everyone is watching now. Zoe's eyes are bright with tears, and he looks away. He takes two deep swallows and focuses on the burn.
"Is that really what you think?" She isn't loud now. Her voice quakes and dammit he won't feel bad for telling the truth. He won't, but he does.
"Yeah. Yeah I guess it is."
He doesn't watch her leave.
o000o
It is four in the morning before he stumbles home and he is still drunk. It is the kind of drunk where everything fuzzes around the edges and nothing hurts and you can do anything. You can say anything, and that doctor's house is just a stone's throw away.
He pounds the door.
Nothing.
He pounds again.
"Zoe!"
He turns the handle and it is unlocked. Seems the New York City has bled out of her a bit more than she likes to let on.
She meets him at the door to her bedroom, disheveled and perfect, and he cannot help himself.
"I'm so sorry." He gets out, but that is all. He's not even sure what he is sorry for at this point or if he even is sorry, but he feels like he should apologize. He made her cry. He hadn't meant to do that. It's just... fuck.
He grabs her face and kisses her.
He gets lost in the electricity of tongues and teeth. She tastes just like he remembered, feels twice as good, and he could do this forever. She doesn't let him.
Tiny hands shove his shoulders and he stumbles back a step.
"Wade! What the hell?"
He wishes he knew.
"Zoe - I…" But he cannot find the words. She deserved his honesty but, dammit, he does not want to hurt her. Not again.
"Get out!" She shoves him again, but he doesn't move. "Get out!" She shoves again, this time with her whole weight, and he wavers.
"Zoe..."
"Get out!"
"But -"
"I swear if you don't get out -"
He hooks a hand around her neck and kisses her again. He tries to show her what he cannot say. Words have never served him well. Words got him here and it is nowhere he wants to be.
She bites him. Hard. He yanks back.
"You're drunk." She steps out of his reach.
He tastes blood where she split his lip.
"Zoe -"
"Go home, Wade. You don't get to use me as a placeholder either."
She shoves him again and this time he staggers back.
The door locks after she slams it in his face.
o000o
A/N: This is going to be a two (possibly three) shot. Nothing major. Just plot-bunnies running wild and ruining my more intense projects in the Frozen and Tangled AND Marvel universes.
Want to harass me into writing the next part? Follow me on twitter: ravenswrite