A/N: This is dedicated to one of the blogs I follow. They read these and really like them, apparently!

Love is the Only Danger

He didn't form attachments to anyone; it was too much investment on his part. Maybe he'd pick up a few girls here and there, have an occasional one-night stand, but it was never permanent.

He could still remember when he knew, when he realized that he might have feelings for her. It was a few days before Christmas, the one before the lotterywin. He'd barely gotten out of trouble with the cops, thanks to his mum, and now she wanted him to get a job. Stuart had promised to pull some strings at Right Buy U, but he still had to interview for it. A bloody interview for stacking shelves, of all things.

He'd been made to wear one of those hideous sweaters he thought he'd kept hidden (obviously not, or his mum wouldn't have found one). He was wearing shoes that were a size too small, and his hair was combed over today. He felt like he was in primary school all over again, getting his picture taken. He was sure he looked absolutely miserable.

She was at the counter talking to Stuart when he walked in, not unlike that day when they'd first met. Stuart had mentioned in passing that she was here with her family for a few weeks. Aside from her hair being shorter, she still looked like her prim and proper self.

She sized him up, a smirk growing on her face. She knew he looked ridiculous, and she was going to tell him so. He felt his face heat up, completely embarrassed. Gritting his teeth, he pushed past her, having a rather hard time holding his tongue.

The interview went well enough. He answered all the questions, and he mentally thanked Stuart for putting a good word in for him. Before he knew it, he was free to go.

He pushed the door open and was about to make the cold trek home when he heard someone behind him. He groaned when he saw who it was.

"You wanna say something? Go ahead. I don't really care." That's what he told himself. He didn't know why her opinion mattered to him at all.

"I wanted to apologize for my behavior." She looked up at him, her eyes hard and serious. "I didn't know it would hurt your feelings."

He blinked, having a hard time believing that she was apologizing. In the eight-and-a-half years he'd known her, she was never one to back down. They were both equally horrid to each other, but knew where to draw the line.

"Is that all?" He tried to keep his expression neutral, but he was glad she was being sincere.

She nodded curtly. "Yes. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go back inside before I freeze."

He took her hand before she even turned around. She gazed at him quizzically, and he finally realized what he was doing. Nice going, mate. Now what are you supposed to do?

He looked around wildly, trying to come up with an excuse, when his eyes rested above them. Someone had hung mistletoe there. It was sheer dumb luck.

She followed his eyes and giggled, shaking her head. "Of course. Wouldn't expect anything different from you."

He smiled slyly. "Oh, really?"

"I've gotten used to it over the years, I suppose." She returned his smirk. "Now hurry up before we both spend Christmas bedridden with the flu."

He didn't remember his response to that. When he thought back on that moment, all he remembered was his eyes closing and his lips against her cheek. It was quick, soulless, and hollow.

And apparently, this didn't satisfy her.

"My first kiss under a mistletoe, and that's all I get?" She narrowed her eyes. "You know, the least you could do is abide by tradition, Jamie. It's not like I'm asking you to marry me, so I don't see why-"

He captured her lips with his, if only to make her stop talking. He didn't intend to make it last longer than a second, but somehow his brain had shut off and his body had taken over. There was a funny feeling in his chest, one he couldn't describe; he felt her smile into his mouth, causing him to shiver.

When they pulled apart, her cheeks were flushed and her face was radiant. "Thank you, Jamie. Happy Christmas."

He nodded. "Happy Christmas, Cathy."

She walked back into the store, but not before giving him a timid smile over her shoulder.

It was halfway home, right before he was going to cross a busy street, when it hit him. That strange feeling he got when he saw her, why her opinion actually mattered to him, the way she felt in his arms when he held her.

He fancied her. He had very real feelings for her.

He was in danger of falling in love.

He did nothing about it, especially after he was hired. The manager, Bob, made it clear early on that he would always be viewed as a troublemaker, an ex-druggie, irredeemable. He saw how close Bob was to her, how he treated her so much like she was his own. He didn't need it spelled out to him that she was off-limits.

It didn't help that she acted as if nothing had happened. The next time he saw her, over her spring holiday, she was back to her tightly-wound self, never bringing it up and getting annoyed with him like she always did.

He acted like it didn't bother him. He could have any girl he set his eyes on. He was young, he was attractive; what did he care if one shrimp of a girl didn't return his feelings?

The girls he met would treat him one of two ways: they would ignore him for being such a tosser, or would get turned on by him being such a tosser. She didn't fit into either of those categories. She was somewhere in the middle, not quite accepting him, but not rejecting him either.

It wasn't until he found out that she was moving in with her uncle for a while that he decided to act on his emotions. Much to his discomfort, they hadn't gone away. And he had a feeling that they weren't going to up and leave any time soon.

He steeled himself up over the summer, and by fall, he knew for sure what it was he wanted.

He, Jamie Bradley, wanted to tell Catherine Davies that he was in love with her.

And he was sure it all would have gone over well.

Until the syndicate happened.