Author's Note: Another small language warning, Miranda acts a bit stupid
this chapter, but things turn out "fine." *laughs evilly* On a completely
different note, I'm writing this as I decide whether I'll post the first
chapter on fanfiction.net yet. *laughs again* I like to be a little ahead
of things.
~~~~~
Miranda and Jayden finished chatting before midnight- not too long before, but still before- but she still couldn't get to sleep. Miranda's mind kept racing as she lay in the darkness, and she couldn't lay still for more than a few minutes. The worst part was, of course, that she couldn't understand WHY. Her eyes were watery and hard to keep open from staring into a computer screen, and the day was as tiring as any other. The conversation with Jayden had been like any other, with her trying to talk about "her perfect male specimen" and Miranda thinking about anything but.
Well, not that she ignored him completely, but she certainly wouldn't admit to Jayden that she'd thought about him. A lot. Especially the rest of that evening, and that one mental picture kept running through her mind. Miranda had never noticed before how sexy sweat- that disgusting thing so many products tried to prevent- could make a fit man's chest look. Highlighting each crevice more than usual, making him shine like some... perfect male specimen.
Sighing, Miranda sat up in her bed and brushed stray hairs from her face. This train of thought wasn't going to make her sleep- doing the exact opposite by making her stay awake thinking about it. A dry smile came to her. Who ever knew that my bad side came out at night?
She walked out into the main part of her hotel room in silence, her bare feet making the smallest noise on the carpet. Her skin still felt fidgety, crawling over her like snake skin, and she rubbed her arms. They weren't cold, but she had the need to move. Maybe I should take up night-jogging, she thought. Glancing down at herself, Miranda shook her head. What an impression that would make, me running down the street in plaid sleeping shorts.
Miranda was standing in the hotel hallway before she realized it. Wide eyes and all, she looked around her at the dim lights and then started back toward her door. How'd I get this far down the hall before even remembering it? I must be really itching to move. Her hand touched the doorknob on her closed door, and she turned it. A satisfying click was her only reply.
Click. Clickclickclick. Twisting it harder and faster made no difference, and she muttered small curses to herself. Oh, I am a fucking genius. Letting her head fall forward to thud against the wood, she exhaled slowly. If only this were a car, and then I could run and check the passenger door. Or at least open it with a coat-hanger. She looked down at her hands and frowned. I should've brought a credit card with, or my nailfile. Something, anything. She sighed and glanced down both ends of the hallway. No one. Lack of sleep, itching nerves, and Kurt Angle's damn body do not mix.
Just calm down, Miranda, she told herself. Check the main desk, they must have an extra key card. They'd believe this story, why would anyone make it up? Trying the knob one more time, a reality dawned on her. It's past midnight- almost 1am the last time I checked- and I expect someone to be at the front desk. Perfect, what a situation you've gotten into Miranda.
She knew what she would've done, what she still could do, if she was only the reckless teenager she used to be. Glancing at the door with a vengeance, she almost felt her foot rise to kick it, almost heard the splinter of wood around her. She had to blink and focus to make sure it wasn't real. It seemed so vivid, but slow, like a scene in those plotless action movies she hated. Maybe I need a good action movie, she thought dryly. Go Jackie Chan on the door, get into my room, and clean up the evidence before anyone notices a thing. That brought a grin to her sleepless face.
A noise invaded her thoughts. Soft, but repeating. She listened to it, leaning against the door- yes, like I'll appear casual- and hoping it might be a janitor. They'd have a universal key or something, she reassured herself. The whole scene played out in her mind; telling the friendly janitor her problem, him opening the door without a problem, and her going back to sleep; before she even saw the source of the noise. By then she knew it was footsteps, and she anxiously awaited them.
She heard the sound of a door opening- one similar to hers- and looked down the hall. A few doors away, someone stepped into the hallway and her heart filled with dread. If my luck could get any worse, that will be Kurt. If it can get any better, it will be... Kurt, because he'd try to help.
Damn she hated being right, especially on that day.
Kurt looked at her, focusing and then relaxing immediately. He had a hotel robe on, not much underneath, and a faithful keycard in his hand. Unlike my evil one, she thought, which deserts me in my time of need.
"I thought I heard something," he told her softly, his voice carrying nonetheless. "Miranda... are you okay?" His voice was sleepy, she couldn't believe she'd awakened him with all her frantic pulling on the doorknob. She glanced at the closed door behind her back, and he laughed slightly. "You forgot your card."
She shrugged, feeling more embarrassed that she'd expected, and more awake of how awkward the situation was. She was in a loose t-shirt, nothing underneath, and shorts, and he looked to have nothing more than boxers under the robe. Flicking her eyes back to his face before he could notice, Miranda silently thanked the dim light. "I think I was... sleep walking," she explained lamely. There was a pause, and she stepped from foot to foot nervously. It was colder in the hallway. "Do you think the front desk is open?"
Shaking his head, Kurt stepped back and held his door open. "I don't think so, it's almost two in the morning." Her eyes widened, and he yawned. "Hurry up, before I stop feeling generous."
"Huh?" she said softly, standing almost ten feet away from him on frozen feet. Kurt was looking at her expectantly, and she followed his eyes to his open door. He was offering her a place to sleep, as dirty as it sounded, and she quickly shook her head and moved back to lean against her door. "No, no, I wasn't asking to use your room..."
"You're just planning on sleeping in the hallway?" he replied. If he weren't so sleepy, she guessed he might laugh. "As much as I like this hotel, I wouldn't let you stay out here alone."
She raised one eyebrow and glanced at the doorknob that she had unwilling clung to for the past few minutes. "You could lend me a nail file though, if you have one. I think I could pick the door." He grinned at that, although it brought up memories of a conversation he couldn't keep out of his head- even though he wasn't involved in it.
Drawing the robe tighter around his body, Kurt inspected the door quickly. "I don't doubt that," he said softly, more to himself than to her. "But, I don't usually worry about my fingernails." She looked down, he could tell she was trying to think of another solution, and he sighed. "You can get the staff to open it in the morning. I'll lend you half of my room until then," she started to shake her head and he watched her seriously. "I'm not going to bite you." The old movie cliché came to his mind: I won't bite you... not hard, and he fought a smile.
"You don't have to do that," she argued. He guessed it was her way of being grateful, while she fought back the nervousness at the thought of sleeping in his hotel room. Jayden's going to hate me, she managed to think, almost making her laugh. He didn't comment, but held her gaze with dark blue eyes that said he wasn't going to leave her there. She sighed and then made her way into his room.
His entire room was painted a dull shade of green, while hers was a muted yellow, and she was surprised by how clean it was. Most men she knew would have clothes strewn all over the place in a matter of minutes, but she only saw a pair of shoes inside the door and his duffel bag lying by the couch. Miranda tried not to be too obvious as she looked around, standing in the room for a pause before going over to sit on the couch.
He watched her, raised an eyebrow, but didn't say a word as he walked into the bedroom and brought out a blanket a moment later. She reached for it, but he held it and shook his head. "I'm calling the couch." She looked at him in shock, and he grinned. "There's still a bit of the southern gentleman in me," he said, trying to make her smile. Of course, she didn't, and he didn't let it bother him.
"Kurt?" she said softly, standing up as he threw the blanket over the couch. He looked up at her, the robe falling open just enough that she had to concentrate on eye contact. "You're from Pennsylvania."
Grinning completely, he fell onto the couch and closed his eyes. "Well, then I guess I'm just a gentleman. Go to bed, Miranda. And don't bother arguing." She sighed for a second, and he pointed a finger at her with surprisingly awake and alert eyes. "I mean it."
Taking a few steps, she turned back enough to see him stretch out underneath the blanket and prop his hands behind his head. "Thank you," she said finally, and he nodded without saying a word. "You're really a gentleman." She walked into his bedroom, took a look at the messy but incredibly inviting sheets, and fell onto the mattress. Momentarily, she was asleep.
~~~~~
Someone was walking. Back and forth, at a slow pace, for the past five minutes. Maybe longer, as Miranda couldn't tell while she was asleep. Her sleep was calm, surprisingly so, and being in a different bed seemed to make the difference between falling asleep or not. His bed, she remembered. Kurt. That person walking back and forth must be him, unable to stay on the couch.
Miranda had tried to lay on her couch the previous day, and had been surprised by how uncomfortable they were. And now Kurt was trying to sleep on one, while she stole his bed, all because of her walking into the hallway without her keycard. A twinge of guilt hit her, and she sat up. Pursing her lip, she eyed the closed bedroom door as Kurt continued pacing- probably to tire himself into sleep- on the other side. Glancing at the alarm clock finalized it, she wasn't going to be that cruel and let him go without sleep.
He was the athlete out of them, and her job was to manage him and make sure he could do his job. A job that couldn't be done well if he hadn't gotten any sleep. Her job would be harder too without any rest, but there was a solution. Not the most favorable one, but the fairest.
Silently going to the door, she opened it to see Kurt walking- shirtless, shoeless- in front of the couch. He didn't see her, she saw another incredibly good view of him, and Miranda coughed to catch his attention. Stopping immediately, he turned to look at her in surprise.
"It's a little early to get up," he said softly, glancing past her at his unmade bed.
Looking at the floor for a second, she shrugged. I can't believe I'm doing this. "Go in and get some sleep," she said, finally meeting his eyes and motioning toward the bed. He immediately started to argue, much like she had done, but she stepped forward to stop him. They stood closer, and her eyes froze any complaint he might have. "I'm not that unfair," she stated firmly. "And you're getting some sleep whether you want to be a gentleman or not."
He grinned slightly, liking the slight attitude, but didn't move. "I'm not making you sleep on the couch."
"I'm not going to sleep on the couch," she replied softly. His eyes darkened, confused, and then widened. His mouth formed an 'oh' silently as he understood. Hiding the grin completely, he let her go first and closed the door behind them.
The room seemed unnaturally silent, the air too thick and hot, and Miranda couldn't think of a way to stop it. This situation was odd, she just wanted to get in bed and let her conscience be satisfied. Kurt apparently had the same idea, because he walked past her and gracefully slid into the bed, rolling over to the alarm clock by the wall. He shut it off completely, and then turned to face her.
Her eyes, which had been unconsciously busy staring at his broad shoulders and smooth back, met his. "Which side do you want?" Kurt asked politely, like he was ordering takeout or giving directions. She shrugged, glad that he didn't suggest top or bottom, and he made himself comfortable on the inside that he already occupied.
Laying down on the other side, all too aware of the slightest movement he made, Miranda curled her arm around one pillow and tried to make herself comfortable. The favorable position- another trick made by fate- happened to be curled, facing the center of the bed. Facing him. He'd already closed his eyes and lay flat on his back, with the blankets pulled halfway up his chest. Sighing, she started to go to sleep again as she watched the rhythm of his rising and falling breaths.
Her eyes were almost closed when he exhaled deeply, and her eyes immediately opened to see if he was awake. He wasn't, and she measured the difference between them. No more than a foot and a half was between her- in the black and grey shorts, with a loose black t-shirt- and the already asleep Kurt- wearing nothing but black boxers. Forcing her eyes to look at the ceiling instead of him, Miranda shook her head slowly. When I decided to get to know him better, I never thought it would lead to... well, this.
~~~~~
~~~~~
Miranda and Jayden finished chatting before midnight- not too long before, but still before- but she still couldn't get to sleep. Miranda's mind kept racing as she lay in the darkness, and she couldn't lay still for more than a few minutes. The worst part was, of course, that she couldn't understand WHY. Her eyes were watery and hard to keep open from staring into a computer screen, and the day was as tiring as any other. The conversation with Jayden had been like any other, with her trying to talk about "her perfect male specimen" and Miranda thinking about anything but.
Well, not that she ignored him completely, but she certainly wouldn't admit to Jayden that she'd thought about him. A lot. Especially the rest of that evening, and that one mental picture kept running through her mind. Miranda had never noticed before how sexy sweat- that disgusting thing so many products tried to prevent- could make a fit man's chest look. Highlighting each crevice more than usual, making him shine like some... perfect male specimen.
Sighing, Miranda sat up in her bed and brushed stray hairs from her face. This train of thought wasn't going to make her sleep- doing the exact opposite by making her stay awake thinking about it. A dry smile came to her. Who ever knew that my bad side came out at night?
She walked out into the main part of her hotel room in silence, her bare feet making the smallest noise on the carpet. Her skin still felt fidgety, crawling over her like snake skin, and she rubbed her arms. They weren't cold, but she had the need to move. Maybe I should take up night-jogging, she thought. Glancing down at herself, Miranda shook her head. What an impression that would make, me running down the street in plaid sleeping shorts.
Miranda was standing in the hotel hallway before she realized it. Wide eyes and all, she looked around her at the dim lights and then started back toward her door. How'd I get this far down the hall before even remembering it? I must be really itching to move. Her hand touched the doorknob on her closed door, and she turned it. A satisfying click was her only reply.
Click. Clickclickclick. Twisting it harder and faster made no difference, and she muttered small curses to herself. Oh, I am a fucking genius. Letting her head fall forward to thud against the wood, she exhaled slowly. If only this were a car, and then I could run and check the passenger door. Or at least open it with a coat-hanger. She looked down at her hands and frowned. I should've brought a credit card with, or my nailfile. Something, anything. She sighed and glanced down both ends of the hallway. No one. Lack of sleep, itching nerves, and Kurt Angle's damn body do not mix.
Just calm down, Miranda, she told herself. Check the main desk, they must have an extra key card. They'd believe this story, why would anyone make it up? Trying the knob one more time, a reality dawned on her. It's past midnight- almost 1am the last time I checked- and I expect someone to be at the front desk. Perfect, what a situation you've gotten into Miranda.
She knew what she would've done, what she still could do, if she was only the reckless teenager she used to be. Glancing at the door with a vengeance, she almost felt her foot rise to kick it, almost heard the splinter of wood around her. She had to blink and focus to make sure it wasn't real. It seemed so vivid, but slow, like a scene in those plotless action movies she hated. Maybe I need a good action movie, she thought dryly. Go Jackie Chan on the door, get into my room, and clean up the evidence before anyone notices a thing. That brought a grin to her sleepless face.
A noise invaded her thoughts. Soft, but repeating. She listened to it, leaning against the door- yes, like I'll appear casual- and hoping it might be a janitor. They'd have a universal key or something, she reassured herself. The whole scene played out in her mind; telling the friendly janitor her problem, him opening the door without a problem, and her going back to sleep; before she even saw the source of the noise. By then she knew it was footsteps, and she anxiously awaited them.
She heard the sound of a door opening- one similar to hers- and looked down the hall. A few doors away, someone stepped into the hallway and her heart filled with dread. If my luck could get any worse, that will be Kurt. If it can get any better, it will be... Kurt, because he'd try to help.
Damn she hated being right, especially on that day.
Kurt looked at her, focusing and then relaxing immediately. He had a hotel robe on, not much underneath, and a faithful keycard in his hand. Unlike my evil one, she thought, which deserts me in my time of need.
"I thought I heard something," he told her softly, his voice carrying nonetheless. "Miranda... are you okay?" His voice was sleepy, she couldn't believe she'd awakened him with all her frantic pulling on the doorknob. She glanced at the closed door behind her back, and he laughed slightly. "You forgot your card."
She shrugged, feeling more embarrassed that she'd expected, and more awake of how awkward the situation was. She was in a loose t-shirt, nothing underneath, and shorts, and he looked to have nothing more than boxers under the robe. Flicking her eyes back to his face before he could notice, Miranda silently thanked the dim light. "I think I was... sleep walking," she explained lamely. There was a pause, and she stepped from foot to foot nervously. It was colder in the hallway. "Do you think the front desk is open?"
Shaking his head, Kurt stepped back and held his door open. "I don't think so, it's almost two in the morning." Her eyes widened, and he yawned. "Hurry up, before I stop feeling generous."
"Huh?" she said softly, standing almost ten feet away from him on frozen feet. Kurt was looking at her expectantly, and she followed his eyes to his open door. He was offering her a place to sleep, as dirty as it sounded, and she quickly shook her head and moved back to lean against her door. "No, no, I wasn't asking to use your room..."
"You're just planning on sleeping in the hallway?" he replied. If he weren't so sleepy, she guessed he might laugh. "As much as I like this hotel, I wouldn't let you stay out here alone."
She raised one eyebrow and glanced at the doorknob that she had unwilling clung to for the past few minutes. "You could lend me a nail file though, if you have one. I think I could pick the door." He grinned at that, although it brought up memories of a conversation he couldn't keep out of his head- even though he wasn't involved in it.
Drawing the robe tighter around his body, Kurt inspected the door quickly. "I don't doubt that," he said softly, more to himself than to her. "But, I don't usually worry about my fingernails." She looked down, he could tell she was trying to think of another solution, and he sighed. "You can get the staff to open it in the morning. I'll lend you half of my room until then," she started to shake her head and he watched her seriously. "I'm not going to bite you." The old movie cliché came to his mind: I won't bite you... not hard, and he fought a smile.
"You don't have to do that," she argued. He guessed it was her way of being grateful, while she fought back the nervousness at the thought of sleeping in his hotel room. Jayden's going to hate me, she managed to think, almost making her laugh. He didn't comment, but held her gaze with dark blue eyes that said he wasn't going to leave her there. She sighed and then made her way into his room.
His entire room was painted a dull shade of green, while hers was a muted yellow, and she was surprised by how clean it was. Most men she knew would have clothes strewn all over the place in a matter of minutes, but she only saw a pair of shoes inside the door and his duffel bag lying by the couch. Miranda tried not to be too obvious as she looked around, standing in the room for a pause before going over to sit on the couch.
He watched her, raised an eyebrow, but didn't say a word as he walked into the bedroom and brought out a blanket a moment later. She reached for it, but he held it and shook his head. "I'm calling the couch." She looked at him in shock, and he grinned. "There's still a bit of the southern gentleman in me," he said, trying to make her smile. Of course, she didn't, and he didn't let it bother him.
"Kurt?" she said softly, standing up as he threw the blanket over the couch. He looked up at her, the robe falling open just enough that she had to concentrate on eye contact. "You're from Pennsylvania."
Grinning completely, he fell onto the couch and closed his eyes. "Well, then I guess I'm just a gentleman. Go to bed, Miranda. And don't bother arguing." She sighed for a second, and he pointed a finger at her with surprisingly awake and alert eyes. "I mean it."
Taking a few steps, she turned back enough to see him stretch out underneath the blanket and prop his hands behind his head. "Thank you," she said finally, and he nodded without saying a word. "You're really a gentleman." She walked into his bedroom, took a look at the messy but incredibly inviting sheets, and fell onto the mattress. Momentarily, she was asleep.
~~~~~
Someone was walking. Back and forth, at a slow pace, for the past five minutes. Maybe longer, as Miranda couldn't tell while she was asleep. Her sleep was calm, surprisingly so, and being in a different bed seemed to make the difference between falling asleep or not. His bed, she remembered. Kurt. That person walking back and forth must be him, unable to stay on the couch.
Miranda had tried to lay on her couch the previous day, and had been surprised by how uncomfortable they were. And now Kurt was trying to sleep on one, while she stole his bed, all because of her walking into the hallway without her keycard. A twinge of guilt hit her, and she sat up. Pursing her lip, she eyed the closed bedroom door as Kurt continued pacing- probably to tire himself into sleep- on the other side. Glancing at the alarm clock finalized it, she wasn't going to be that cruel and let him go without sleep.
He was the athlete out of them, and her job was to manage him and make sure he could do his job. A job that couldn't be done well if he hadn't gotten any sleep. Her job would be harder too without any rest, but there was a solution. Not the most favorable one, but the fairest.
Silently going to the door, she opened it to see Kurt walking- shirtless, shoeless- in front of the couch. He didn't see her, she saw another incredibly good view of him, and Miranda coughed to catch his attention. Stopping immediately, he turned to look at her in surprise.
"It's a little early to get up," he said softly, glancing past her at his unmade bed.
Looking at the floor for a second, she shrugged. I can't believe I'm doing this. "Go in and get some sleep," she said, finally meeting his eyes and motioning toward the bed. He immediately started to argue, much like she had done, but she stepped forward to stop him. They stood closer, and her eyes froze any complaint he might have. "I'm not that unfair," she stated firmly. "And you're getting some sleep whether you want to be a gentleman or not."
He grinned slightly, liking the slight attitude, but didn't move. "I'm not making you sleep on the couch."
"I'm not going to sleep on the couch," she replied softly. His eyes darkened, confused, and then widened. His mouth formed an 'oh' silently as he understood. Hiding the grin completely, he let her go first and closed the door behind them.
The room seemed unnaturally silent, the air too thick and hot, and Miranda couldn't think of a way to stop it. This situation was odd, she just wanted to get in bed and let her conscience be satisfied. Kurt apparently had the same idea, because he walked past her and gracefully slid into the bed, rolling over to the alarm clock by the wall. He shut it off completely, and then turned to face her.
Her eyes, which had been unconsciously busy staring at his broad shoulders and smooth back, met his. "Which side do you want?" Kurt asked politely, like he was ordering takeout or giving directions. She shrugged, glad that he didn't suggest top or bottom, and he made himself comfortable on the inside that he already occupied.
Laying down on the other side, all too aware of the slightest movement he made, Miranda curled her arm around one pillow and tried to make herself comfortable. The favorable position- another trick made by fate- happened to be curled, facing the center of the bed. Facing him. He'd already closed his eyes and lay flat on his back, with the blankets pulled halfway up his chest. Sighing, she started to go to sleep again as she watched the rhythm of his rising and falling breaths.
Her eyes were almost closed when he exhaled deeply, and her eyes immediately opened to see if he was awake. He wasn't, and she measured the difference between them. No more than a foot and a half was between her- in the black and grey shorts, with a loose black t-shirt- and the already asleep Kurt- wearing nothing but black boxers. Forcing her eyes to look at the ceiling instead of him, Miranda shook her head slowly. When I decided to get to know him better, I never thought it would lead to... well, this.
~~~~~