Disclaimer: I don't have rights to Rod Stewart or his song Hot Legs.

Chapter Ten

"Please don't tell me you honestly want to go home with me?" I groaned, resting my head on the steering wheel in agony. However, even with my belly aching, I guess the fact that Claire was already sitting next to me should've been enough of an answer. She was dressed in her usual pink coat with her blue eyes staring straight ahead towards the damned building we'd only just come out of at frickin' eight o'clock when everyone else let out at five. She didn't seem to mind this fact, though. "Fine," I sighed reluctantly, "but we'll have to stop by a grocery store... I don't have anything at my place."

"Don't you hate my cooking, though?" she asked, finally turning her head to face me. Her bangs fell into her eyes, but I chose to ignore the sensations coursing through me as she brushed them aside and slipped her hair behind her ear.

"That's only because you're a vegetarian," I explained gruffly, starting up the engine. "Besides, you don't like take-out, so I can't exactly drop by Shirley's tonight." What I didn't tell her, though, was that I actually liked the thought of her cooking up something just for the two of us which was pretty damn unnerving. I mean... we were supposed to be coworkers, not some old married couple.

"Oh, you don't have to..." she insisted, clutching her purse tightly to her chest. Glancing over towards her once again, I found she was busy nibbling on her lower lip in deep thought, and as we drove on, the amber glow of the street lamps flickered across her worrisome face. Why did she sound so nervous? Just what was eating at her so bad? Even when she was dog ass tired, she was always bursting out with energy, so this didn't seem like her at all. She was too damn quiet... no questions about it.

With that in mind, although I probably should've felt relieved to bask in the wonderful silence that followed on our way through town, I couldn't help admitting that I missed her cheerful voice.

--

"Making yourself comfortable?" I grumbled as I looked at the evening's 'groceries' that were splayed out on my yellowed counter. You know... I was actually getting damn excited when I saw Claire pick out some potatoes, an onion, and a can of corn, but then she had to go find some broccoli and tomatoes as well. And while I'm at it, what the hell is 'garam masala' and 'cumin powder?' She'd also mentioned something about curry, but I had no friggin' clue what she was talking about to be honest. If it wasn't something I'd find on a diner menu, then I hadn't the foggiest of what she could be cooking up for us tonight.

All I knew was it stunk something awful...

"I really hope you don't mind that I'm staying here tonight," she said with a smile. At first, I only mumbled some half-assed reply, but once her words sunk in a little, I bashed my head on the roof of my fridge as I went to look at her.

"Wait, you're what?" I blurted, nearly dropping the bottle of rum in my hand. She immediately frowned to see it, but my brain was still short-circuiting over the thought of her sleeping anywhere in my hell-hole. "You can't stay here," I protested as I motioned towards my overcrowded living room. "I thought you were just staying for dinner, and then I'd take you home," I continued. After all, I figured that once she realized she didn't have to worry about me, my night could go on as usual with, preferably, me drowning myself in the syrupy liquid.

"You can't honestly tell me that you planned on driving me home after having any of that," she replied sharply, not bothering to look back at me while she toyed with my stove. I don't think I'd touched the damn thing since I moved in... Hell, I didn't even know if it was gas or electric, so she was on her own with that.. "Now, let me get started in here, so we can eat!" she laughed.

You know it wasn't just the thought of my coworker, of whom I knew nothing about outside of business hours, staying through the night that got to me. Although it didn't have a chance in hell of ever happening, I could still see the likes of Denny or that bastard Kai staying here over night, but the fact that it was Claire brought up another issue entirely.

My rental wasn't exactly the kind of place that any woman should see...

Since I never really had any company, unless you counted the occasional stray cat wandering through, the living area was probably what one could expect of an eternal bachelor such as myself. Every available inch of surface space was cluttered with various odds and ends from some printouts I took home from work to almost endless stacks of books, most of which I hadn't even read yet. That wasn't even the worst of it, though. After all, I'd lost track of how many ashtrays I had laying around the place, all but overflowing with cigarette butts, and I hadn't vacuumed since only God knows when. To put it mildly...

I was living in a shit hole.

"Gray, do you have a TV or anything?" Claire asked suddenly. "I was hoping to catch House Hunters tonight, and-"

"Sorry..." I apologized gruffly as I began to try and pick up the place. "But all I get is CNN." She didn't seem too disappointed when I said it, but even with only a slight shrug from her in response, I knew she was trying to come up with another way to entertain herself. Not that I blamed her any...

"I have a record player you could always use," I suggested offhandedly. Claire seemed to perk up then, and I chuckled softly to see the light spark in her crystal blue eyes. Luckily for me, she seemed to be relatively easy to please. However, looking through my selection, I began to panic a little since I had no idea what she might like. Would she be alright with swing or did she prefer country? Probably not on both accounts which whittled down what I had to work with to just about nill. "Is Rod Stewart alright with you?"

"As long as it's music, I'm perfectly fine," she assure me with a laugh. "Just play something you like, and I'm sure I'll enjoy it." Well, I highly doubted that would be the case being that I had some questionable content which wasn't exactly suitable for a lady's ears.

Flipping through the remains of my meager collection one last time, I decided that my first choice would probably be best. After all, I figured I couldn't go wrong with one of the classics.

However, after I got the record spinning and the needle down, the heat immediately flared up from my chest to my ears to hear, "You got legs right up to your neck... You're making me a physical wreck... Hot legs! In satin-" The vinyl made a horrible screech when I snagged it, but I only sighed in relief to have stopped it before it went any further into the song. God help me if I was going to let her hear something like that, especially with her here alone with me...

"Come on now, Gray," Claire giggled. "I've heard that song at least a dozen times, so you're not hiding anything from me." I merely glanced over in her direction as she tossed some more vegetables into the pot and added a dash of salt. However, I also happened to catch the wistful expression on her gentle face at the same time. For some reason, though, that really pissed me off.

"Did you and Kai listen to this?"

I hadn't even meant to voice my thoughts, but it was clearly too late for me to take back everything I'd just said in that one, short statement. Her blue eyes widened while the wooden spoon in her hand clattered to the floor, and I took that as my final answer. In the sudden silence that fell between us, save for the soft hiss of the record which was still spinning endlessly on the turn table, we both stared at each other without a single word. Even when she looked away, my gaze remained solely on her. I just... couldn't believe it... especially since I didn't realize I'd gone so far as to suspect such a thing in the first place.

Now that I said it, I still wasn't sure what to think about that confirmation. Sure, her weird ass behavior suddenly made sense, but that new information also brought so many other questions bubbling to the surface. Such as, but not limited to: Why the hell did she go out with a player like that anyway, and better yet, what the fuck was she doing falling for him all over again?

I just couldn't make a damn lick of sense out of it.

"Gray," she began quietly, returning to her task. "It only lasted a couple of weeks, so don't worry about it... I'm fine. Really." But she wasn't 'fine,' and I knew it, maybe more than anyone else ever could because that was like me saying that I was fine... In the end, it was just a lie meant to make other people feel better which was what pissed me off the most.

Whatever shit that bastard put her through, I wanted to know, but I still was smart enough to know better than to assume she'd tell me anything about it. After all, she'd protect him... just like she always did with me.

Trust me, I knew damn well that she covered my ass whenever I had too much to drink before, and even during, work hours. I hated myself for it, too. Maybe that's what's really bugging me, I thought as I brought the bottle of rum to my chapped lips. It's not that I really care about her... it's the fact that she cares too much about me. That didn't seem quite right to me, though, because I at least hoped I was better than that. I mean... as a real man, I should've been better, but it didn't necessarily mean that I was.

And what's worse was I had started to talk myself in circles without even being drunk yet... However, something told me that all the liquor in my system would kick in sooner or later that night, and although I was hoping for the later, something told me I was going to fall hard and fast.

--

"God damn, Claire... what the hell were you cookin'?" I grumbled as I sniffed the air. My nose immediately burned with the horrible stench of cooked broccoli, and it was all I could do not to fuckin' gag. She didn't seem to even notice the offending odor, though, while she took another innocent bite of... whatever it was.

"I told you, it's broccoli curry," she explained before offering me a spoonful. "Go ahead and try some," she insisted with a playful grin which made me all the more wary of it.

"Not on your-" Just as I was about to tell her where she could shove it, I had a mouthful of the disgustingly slick substance with the few bits of rice that were mixed in, and when I finally managed to choke it down, it seared the lining of my throat. I coughed, of course, which only made her laugh in what I assumed was some sick manner of devilish glee. "That shit's awful..." I gasped as I fell into another bout of dry heaving. Even my fucking eyes were watering...

"Oh, it's not that bad," she argued back. "You're taste buds are just dead from eating deep-fried foods," she teased with her small nose slightly upturned towards me. Although my face was already warm, it became even more so to see she was still smiling. Was it just me... or had I seen that smile somewhere before? Probably while she was getting all doe-eyed over that... bastard.

"You're face is all red..." she observed, resting the back of her hand on my forehead. "You don't have a fever, but-"

Before she could even finish, I'd taken a firm hold of her wrist, and giving her only enough time to make a small gasp and maybe a squeak of surprise, I'd pulled her into my lap. She blushed, of course, but she was too stunned to move. "If my face is red, then yours must be cute," I replied, wrapping my arms around her tiny waist and pulling her in closer to me. She was so scrawny... but I guess that was to be expected. After all, she'd barely ate anything even though she'd been so happy about making that damn curry. If I'd been thinking clearly, maybe I would've realized there was something very wrong with that...

"That doesn't make any sense, Gray," she sighed, finally easing into me.

"Of course it does," I assured her as I rested my head on hers and went to take her hands in my own. Although I only held them for a brief moment before she slipped them out of my grasp, I was surprised by how small, not to mention cold, they were. "You need to eat more," I scolded her, breathing in the smell of her strawberry scented conditioner that made her long, blonde hair so silky smooth every day. She stiffened slightly which I only shrugged off as a sign she wasn't comfortable with sitting on my lap. "I mean it, Claire," I continued, "you're too skinny if you ask me."

"She's skinnier," the young woman seethed under her breath. I raised an eyebrow to hear her voice her opinions in such a way, but she simply fiddled with the hem of her little, black skirt. Even though I hadn't told her as much, I was well aware that it was new... The pink blouse she had on was, too.

"Who? Eve?" I asked to which she replied with a slow nod. "Ah... shit, Claire," I chuckled, nuzzling into her cheek, "that bastard ain't worth your damn time, and you know it."

"Please stop, Gray," she sighed. Then she glanced over to the brown bottle resting on the kitchen table, and she narrowed her eyes at in disgust with another disapproving frown. I followed her gaze, but I smiled lazily to realize that there was still over three fourths of it left. Truth be told... I didn't really care for drinking straight rum, but since it was all I had in the place, it would have to do. At least until tomorrow morning before punching it at nine... "How much have you had?"

"Now or at work?" I replied, letting her slide out of my grasp. She turned to glare at me with her hands resting on her narrow hips, which I could only guess were as bony as her ass. "What?" I asked, with an innocent shrug.

"You were drinking at work?" she challenged, her eyes growing darker. "Did you go to the bar on your lunch break?"

"Hell no," I scoffed. "Check my coat pocket," I suggested, motioning over to the brown couch where I'd let it fall. She did as I instructed, and although it wasn't necessary, being that I already knew what she would find, she showed the empty flask to me anyway. "A college friend of mine bought that for me a couple years back," I explained. "Name was Blue... Real nice guy." Then after a short time, I found myself standing up to join her. "He died of liver failure last year, I think..."

"And you don't think there's anything wrong with that?" she demanded, glaring up at me once more. Her small breasts rose and fell with her heavy breaths, but I kept myself from letting my eyes linger there for too long. However, it seemed that she still caught me since her cheeks flushed a bright red, and she crossed her arms defensively over her chest.

"Come on, Claire..." I chuckled, tilting her chin up. "We all go sometime."

"But that's no reason to poison yourself with that stuff!" she cried out, slapping away my hand. "You're just killing yourself, you idiot! You're just too drunk to realize it!"

"Hey," I snapped back, taking a forceful hold of her slender wrest which caused her to flinch. "I may be buzzed, but I'm not fucking stupid." She blinked in surprise, her eyes wide and misted over with fright, but I didn't stop. "Do you honestly think I do this to myself for fun?" I growled through gritted teeth. "I've dealt with more shit in my life than you'll ever know... so don't start assumin' shit you don't know a damn thing about."

My temper spent, I drew away from her and headed straight for the open doorway that led into my room. However, she reached out for my shirt, and I stopped mid-step. As I stood there waiting for her reply, I heard her sniffle slightly, and to my surprise, I felt her rest her head on my back. "I'm sorry..." was all she managed to choke out, but I soon felt my frustration wane before it became nothing but a faint nagging sensation at the back of my mind. I really didn't mean to say that kind of thing to her when all she was trying to do was help... Why couldn't I just learn to keep my frustrations to myself?

"It's... alright," I assured her with a sigh. Taking off my hat for the first time that day, I ran my fingers through my matted blonde hair and let my shoulders fall back. "You... weren't tryin' to piss me off." With another heavy sigh, I muttered, "You were just worried."

Like always.

"Just let me, ah... clean off my bed, so you can get to sleep," I offered sheepishly in a poor attempt to change the subject to something more agreeable. After all, even in my current state, I knew I couldn't let her sleep on the couch like one of my old college buddies. She was a woman, and tipsy or no, I was expected to be a gentleman. If Kai couldn't treat her right, then the least I could do was one-up him in that department, so she also might give herself a real chance at finding some lovin'... Despite my chivalrous suggestion, though, she seemed to have her own ideas on how this arrangement was going to work.

"You aren't going to sleep on the couch, are you?" Claire asked. When I eyed her curiously, she shook her head in disbelief. "We're not teenagers anymore," she reminded me, "so I'm pretty sure we can handle sleeping in the same bed for one night like responsible adults."

Don't bet on it, I thought doubtfully although I was sober enough not to open my smart ass mouth.

"Now," she began again as she walked ahead of me, "let's get things situ-" When she flipped the light switch, though, her words died almost immediately upon seeing the forest of decay laid out before her very eyes. If my living space was horrific, I was actually pretty damn impressed she hadn't fainted to see this level of domestic carnage. From floor to ceiling, there was an overwhelming array of dirty clothes, ties dangling from the overhead fan, drawers falling out of my dresser, and even more books to clutter up every other available space. My bed didn't fare much better, of course, but at least she could tell I'd slept in it recently by the thrown back covers and rumpled sheets.

"Gray... do you actually live like this?" Claire questioned me while she continued to gawk in utter disbelief. When I gave her a solemn nod, she sighed and shook her head once again. "Alright then, I guess it'll have to do for now." Turning to face me, I could see the hopeful glimmer in her clear blue eyes, and she asked me tentatively, "Please tell me you have a clean shirt I could wear to bed."

"Sure do," I agreed, opening one of the few drawers that remained intact to reveal a perfectly white T-shirt. Of course, we both chose to overlook the fact that it still had the sticker and tags attached to it...

"Well," she chuckled, "that's one good thing, I guess." She immediately began searching for the bathroom which I kindly pointed out to her was off to her right. Luckily for her, I kept it in a more manageable order although there were still a few musty towels in a heap by the shower. However, she wouldn't have to fear looking into the sink at least. The rest of my house could look like hell in a hand basket, but even I had standards when it came to cleanliness. No hair in the drain from my early shaving routine and no toothpaste smears, either. Even so... I-

Wait... did the shower just kick on? Even though my behavior was as immature as one could get, I still found myself creeping up to the door with my ear pressed up against it. As expected, I could faintly hear her clothing dropping to the bathroom floor, my floor, and that was a little more than I could take. I mean... Claire... sans clothing? In my house? Dear god... what the hell was I supposed to do about something like that? Better yet, should I do anything about it?

You could start by opening that door.

I paused for a moment with a troubled expression on my face since that clearly wasn't my voice ringing in my head... It didn't sound like me at least although it was still distinctly familiar. I know I'd heard it once before, but for the life of me, I couldn't put a name to it.

Glancing back towards the kitchen, I zoned in on the bottle I'd left there, and like a fish on the line, it reeled me right in. I had to get my mind off things even if it was apparently someone else taking the steering wheel of my thoughts, and a reckless driver at that. However, I only had a sip before Claire reappeared in my bedroom, and to my horror, not only was the white fabric slightly damp from her wet skin, the shirt I'd leant to her also barely grazed her upper thigh.

You know... I never knew he had such toned legs. Look at those things. They go on forever.

That's when I realized it... Kai was the one who had wormed his womanizing ass into my thoughts. Without even bothering to think about it, being as I knew who very well might be on copilot, I went straight to the sink and dumped the last of the bottle's remaining contents. It was quite the statement, too, since there was over half of it left. Still, I felt the rum was somehow to blame for that bastard's invasion of what should've been a train of reasonable thought.

"Gray?" Claire asked as I heard her slip into my bed. "Are you alright?" She sounded so concerned... but I wasn't about to fool myself into believing she actually cared. She was probably just grateful that she wouldn't have to deal with me drinking around her anymore tonight.

Little did she know that that meant I'd only have her to focus on.

"I'm fine," I assured her when I stepped back into the bedroom. I took off my hat once more and ran my fingers through my hair like I was accustomed to doing if I was nervous about something. "Listen," I began again, "this is just kinda... uncomfortable for me, so I'm just going to sleep on the couch tonight." Although disappointment flickered across her face, I remained firm, but it was more for myself than aimed towards her. "I... I'm not really myself right now," I continued with a hard swallow. "And I don't want to... ah..."

"Whatever makes you the most comfortable," she assured me with an understanding smile. However, the sadness hadn't left her eyes which made it all the harder to say no to her. "Good night, Gray," she said at last as she finally nestled in my blankets.

"Right..." I sighed, turning out the lights and disappearing into the darkness. "Good night..."

--

Author's Note: Kai's voice within Gray's head is actually taken directly from Jean Cooper's My Enemy, My Friend, and I highly recommend it even if you aren't exactly a Graire fan. It's a lot of fun!