A/N: this one here came out of nowhere..

came home from cleaning and setting up my new apartment in pain and with a cold and a really bad headache and wanted to sleep but this wouldn't get out of my head.. it may be silly crap, but it's my silly crap :p

how close forever feels right now

She had to go to him.

She didn't know why exactly. He was just there, she saw him and she just had to go and talk to him.

Totally random. She wasn't even supposed to be at the coffee shop that night. But she was. Her fathers had surprised her by coming into the city, which they never do unless something is really wrong, or it's a special occasion (this one turned out to be one of her daddy's many imagined anniversaries – her first play, which, by the way she wasn't even actually in, she was the lead's understudy's understudy and wasn't even on stage, but hey, her daddy remembers and wants to celebrate it. She lets him because they'd worked a lot when she was younger, and now that her dad wants to retire, they've taken to spoiling her.

It's annoying, and she's already 25, but it keeps them from worrying.)

Anyway.

She bids them goodbye from the corner downstairs her apartment building. The November night is chilly and there's this quaint little coffeehouse a block over that sells the most delicious hot chocolate with fresh ground dark chocolate and soy milk with a hint of ginger that's become a favourite of hers, and that's when she sees him.

Seated on a black motorcycle with blue flames on the side, shiny blue helmet on the handle. He's laughing with three other men, a blond with shaggy blond hair, a lean Asian man with a long ponytail and another broad-shouldered man with a Mohawk.

She just sees him across the road and before she realizes it her feet are carrying her over, this strong impulse to talk to him getting stronger the closer she gets.

He's bigger up close, brown leather jacket stretched across his broad shoulders, haphazard helmet hair blowing in the slight wind, his jaw is scruffy, matching mustache and sideburns.

He's beautiful.

If she had to guess she'd think he was a drummer, or some bad boy type. It makes him even more intriguing.

His Mohawked friend sees her first, trailing off to stare at her as she comes up behind the blond. He glances around the group before looking back her. She spares him a slight glance before focusing her gaze on the object of her interest.

"You lost kitten?" Mohawk asks. The other two turn around and the man on the motorcycle tilts his head to the side as he watches her.

She shakes her head, and steps toward him, promptly dismissing the others.

"Hi."

"Hi." He gives a small laugh and nods at her.

"I'm Rachel." She shifts her chocolate to her left, holding out her mittened hand for him to shake.

He leans forward on the bike, her smaller hand swallowed by his bare hand. His grip is strong, hand cool in hers.

"Finn," he says, still smiling easily at her.

Now that she's here and she's spoken to him and knows his name she's not sure what else she's supposed to do. So she says the first thing that comes to her mind.

"Can we go for a ride?"

The other men around her start to snicker and from the corner of her eye she can see the Mohawk guy and the blond touch fists. She resists the urge to roll her eyes, focusing instead on the warm amber orbs Finn regards her with.

He must think her strange, coming up to him like this.

He shifts surreptitiously and his jacket shifts, a silver chain with a policeman's badge peeking out at her. He watches her notice it and then nods. "Depends, on exactly what this ride entails."

"I just want to talk." She smiles warmly.

"Talk?"

She nods.

"You don't know me."

"That's why two people who don't know each other talk. Plus you're a cop, something tells me I'll be safe with you and I'm quite sure you'll be safe with me."

He laughs louder at that, shaking his head.

She half expects him to tell her to get lost, but she can see the glint of something in his eyes, something beyond curiosity of why she just came over. She can feel the pull towards him still, her fingers itching to touch him. Contact. Skin to skin.

Honestly, she's clueless at to what's going on. And something tells her he is too.

He stares at her for a minute then nods, pulls another helmet from the case on the back of the bike to hand it to her. She takes it with a smile, handing her cup off to the side. Mohawk guy takes it and she throws out a hasty "thanks" in his direction.

She pulls her hair back, trying to fit the helmet over her head and Finn leans forward to help her. His fingers brush over her cheek and she pulls away, her eyes flying to his at the heat that spread from where he touched her. He stares back in surprise then tugs her close to him, curling his palm over her cheek. She nearly melts from his touch, her eyes fluttering closed as his warm breath washes over her.

"Who are you?" he whispers.

She lifts a shoulder, opening her eyes when he touches a finger to her lips.

"I'm Rachel. And you're Finn," she says to him, her hand covering his on her face.

"Do you feel that?"

He nods, his thumb stroking her skin. Her body throbs in response, every molecule firing in reaction to his touch. This close she can see his pupils dilate, feel his pulse quicken and she's almost sure that by him touching her he's having the same response.

His friends are still there, their bewildered stares burning into the back of her head.

In a flash he's pulling her onto the bike, seated in front of him. She's small enough that her head rests perfectly in the crook of his shoulder, his legs fit easily behind hers. He puts her palms on the handles, just beside his and presses his lips to her jaw before tugging the helmet onto her head.

She turns to watch him pull his own on before revving the engine and peeling off into the night.

She feels completely safe, and despite the strangeness of tonight she's almost certain that this exactly was where she supposed to be right now.