A/N: Sorry about the delay. I was going to have this chapter out really fast, so everybody would be all, "Yay, another chapter! That girl must be on speed or something!" But no, every single person in my family simply *had* to use the computer. and just so you know, I am most assuredly not on speed. However, I have had three glasses of Dr. Pepper and a bag of M&M's, so I'm thinking that might account for my sudden urge to give my hands something to do. Anway, it was either this, or solve that accursed rubix cube, and I just asked myself which was a better use of my time. Put your hands together!
Disclaimer: 'Just Shoot Me' does not belong to me. Although I wouldn't mind getting a job working there, even as a stagehand. Here's an impression of me if I worked there: "OH MY GOD, David Spade just made me get him coffee!!!!"
Ciao
a 'Just Shoot Me' fanfiction
by Wakizashi
Saturday, 8:52 P.M.
*Now this is my kind of weekend,* Finch thought, stretching lazily on his bed with his shoes on in a total disregard for the floral-patterned bedspread. *Fat on fast food, all my favorite video games at my disposal, and the love of my life brushing her hair in the bathroom.* He let out a wistful sigh at the thought, trying to focus on non-Maya things as the first drops of rain fell outside the window.
Which was hard, considering he had spent the entire day exclusively with her. After a delectable lunch of sesame chicken(which he had, of course, known was Maya's favorite), sweet-and-sour pork, and fried rice, they had commenced with an all-out battle royale to prove which of them was the electronic champion of the universe. Maya's talents had shone at every racing game they had played, but Finch was the all-time, hands-down victor when it came to the fighting games. At present, the match was a draw.
After their digital appetites had been satiated, their stomachs once again demanded their attention. They had forced themselves to leave the motel room and get some fresh air, and took a walk to the nearby Taco Bell-- Maya's treat. Even though they had kindly been requested to leave after Finch had started drinking hot sauce with a straw and raised quite the commotion, they still enjoyed the pleasantly chilly walk back to their room in the retreating evening light. And to top it all off, Maya was almost completely over her cold. The only drawback of the entire night was the decision to watch that moronic, made-for-TV movie about the Bermuda Triangle that had been on. And that was only because there was nothing else to do.
Finch could not remember when he had had such a terrific weekend. Maya was the greatest person in the world to hang out with. Ever. Even now, she was in the bathroom, and he missed her. He felt ridiculous even admitting such a thing to himself, but it was true. He couldn't stand being away from her. What was worse, he couldn't stand being *with* her and not being able to grab her and kiss her brains out. But then, that was always how things happened for him.
"Come on, Maya, you've taken long enough," he teased. "Did you fall in or something?"
"That's enough out of you!" The bathroom door opened, and Maya stepped out, her hair no longer restrained by its clasp and cascading past her shoulders in silky rivulets. Finch couldn't help but gape. She was gorgeous and she didn't even know it.
"Oh wow, it's really starting to come down out there," she said as she sat down on her bed. "Umm, can I borrow your toothpaste? The cold medicine was making me all spacey this morning, and I completely forgot to bring any."
"I shall be glad to hook you up." He rolled off the bed onto his stomach, eliciting a laugh from her, and fished around in his luggage until he found a tube of Colgate. He offered it up to her, and she accepted it graciously.
"Many thanks."
He craned his head and watched her as she returned to the bathroom, and once he was certain she was occupied, he reached under the bed and pulled out a book bound in deep red leather. Passing his hand over the cover, he read the slightly faded gold letters: 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' by William Shakespeare. He had searched forever in vain at every bookstore in New York City for the oldest copy he could find, but finally, after resorting to a frantic book hunt on Ebay, he had found this little gem; printed in 1610 and in... well, reasonably good condition. It wasn't anything special, but as long as it brought a smile to Maya's face, it was worth the hassle.
As abruptly as that thought had entered his mind, another one soon took its place. What would Jack say about this little gift? Finch knew exactly what he would say: "Sooo, Dennis, thought you'd get on my daughter's good side with a premeditated present? Thought you'd get a hug in return, or a kiss on the cheek, maybe something more?" Looking down at the book in his hands, he finally scowled. *Hell with it,* he thought. He didn't go to the trouble of getting something for Maya to win her over. He did it because she was his friend, and he knew she would like it.
Getting to his feet, he made his way to her bed and threw back the covers. After he placed the book carefully on top of one of the pillows, he hastily pulled the bedclothes back into place as he heard the bathroom door open. He quickly flopped down on his own bed, and Maya entered the room once more.
"Hey Ma-YAH, care to play another round of 'Silent Hill 2'?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows. "I'll time you this time and see how long it takes you to get killed."
She made a disgusted face. "Ugh, no thanks. The sound effects in that game are so disturbing. It's like they brought a tape recorder down into Hell."
"Mm, nice analogy." He held back a grin as he watched her sit down on her bed and frown at the square outline on her pillow. She pulled back the bedspread, her eyes widening.
"What..." Lifting the book as if it were some sacred artifact, she looked up at Finch in disbelief. "Did you...?"
Feigning a look of perplexity, he came to sit next to her and shook his head. "Now isn't that odd? I was always led to believe that hotels usually left mints on their guests' pillows. Guess the times have changed."
"Finch!" She turned the book over reverently in her hands, an enormous smile lighting up her entire face. "I can't believe you did this! This thing's ancient! Look at the binding, it's... well, it looks almost perfect! How did you ever get your hands on this?"
"Oh, that doesn't really matter," he said nonchalantly, patting her shoulder. "I just knew you liked all that Shakespeare garbage, so I thought you'd prefer an older copy over some cheap, six-dollar edition from Barnes & Noble."
Suddenly Maya's arms were around him, and her face was buried in his throat. As with every time she had hugged him, Finch was forced to acknowledge how perfectly she fit against him, how her head tucked neatly just under his chin. He tried taking a deep breath to clear his head, but instead grew foggier as he inhaled the heady aroma of her shampooed hair. Resting his hands lightly on her back, he wondered how long he could maintain consciousness.
"Thank you so much, Dennis," she said, her voice muffled by his shirt collar. His heart did cartwheels at the sound of her voice uttering his first name. Maya never called him Dennis. As she pulled away, she tucked a strand of dark hair self-consciously behind her ear and smiled again. "This is one of the most thoughtful things anyone has ever done for me," she told him, clutching the book fondly against her chest.
He smirked. "Hey. Don't let me catch you telling everyone what a sweetheart I am, or I'll lose that whole Finchy image I got going on."
At that Maya laid her book on her lap and frowned up at him in deep thought. In fact, she stared at him so long that he was about to wave a hand in front of her eyes when she finally spoke. "Finch... Why do you have to act like that, if it's not even who you are? Why *do* you act so rude, and insensitive, and... Finchy?"
Oh, that stung. "What, is that what the term is for jerks now? 'Finchy'?" He rose to his feet, insulted. "Do you think I act the way I do on purpose? Or to hide who I really am? Listen, Maya, if I could be the kind, caring Dennis Finch you wish I could be, I would, but this is who I am, all right? Why can't you just accept me as *me*?" What was he saying? This was *him* talking, wasn't it?
She stood up quickly and put her hand on his arm. "I do, Finch!" she protested. "You don't understand. It's just, lately you haven't been acting yourself. Or maybe you *have* been acting yourself, and you never did before." She shook her head, trying to get her thoughts straight. "But what I meant was, you have it in you to be as sweet as I know you really are. So why can't you?"
"I don't have to listen to this, Ann Landers," he said angrily, walking to the door and yanking his coat on. "If I'm too Finchy for the likes of you, why'd you even want to come with me?"
"Where are you going?" she demanded.
"What do you care?" he replied, slamming the door shut behind him.
As the water from a puddle seeped through Finch's sock and up the leg of his khakis, he wondered why he had to fall for Maya in the first place. She was so intelligent, and sophisticated, and compassionate and... well, above him. All he would ever be was a scrawny little wiseass, a disappointment to his family, and a punching bag for the majority of humankind.
And an idiot who had forgotten to bring an umbrella.
*Guess I have to face the facts,* he thought morosely, splashing down the wet sidewalk in no particular direction. *Even if anything happened between us, everyone would laugh us into an early break-up. She likes Steinbeck and London, I like Calvin and Hobbes. She goes to the opera, I go to Blockbuster Video. We're two totally different people.*
He stopped in his tracks, looking up at the sky in despair. If they were so different, why did they seem so perfect for each other? When Maya was with him, she was more outgoing and less afraid to be herself. And when he was with her, she made him feel like he didn't have to make wisecracks to win approval. *We just... fit together,* he thought, his throat tightening.
After walking aimlessly for several more minutes, Finch halted in the doorway of a bar and shook the rain out of his hair. He sighed, pushing the door open and stepping inside. Only one way to drown your sorrows.
It was a typical dive. Neon Budweiser and Heineken signs in the tinted windows, torn leather bar stools, and a TV on the fuzz. He sat down on one of the stools and wiped off the surface of the bar distastefully. "Sea Breeze," he requested to the bartender, a hulking mass of muscles and T-shirt.
For a while he sat motionless, staring down at the grimy floor. His unkempt blond hair fell forward into his eyes, obscuring his view of the green-and-white sneakers he wore. *Further proof of how different I am from Maya,* he mused blackly. She was so down-to-earth, so responsible, while he was so immature sometimes that he truly believed his twelve-year-old cousin was less juvenile. If Finch wasn't watching cartoons on a Saturday morning in his monkey slippers, chances were he was off at the arcade forgetting to pick up his laundry. Maya would sure have a lot of patience for that.
Peripherally he became aware of an attractive redheaded woman sitting two stools away from him. He turned in his seat and bestowed his trademark sardonic grin at her. "Hey, can I buy you a drink?"
"I already have one," she deadpanned, lifting up a martini to illustrate her response.
As his drink was brought to him, he shifted to the seat next to her. "So you do, isn't that interesting?" He held out his hand, which the woman took reluctantly. "D. Finch. So what do people do for entertainment here in the fair town of Monticello? Besides roundin' up the hogs and such."
"Ridicule visitors who think they're more refined than us," she replied. That being said, she took her martini with her as she sat at the stool farthest away from him. Ouch.
"Dennis!"
He jumped in his seat and swivelled around to see Maya standing in the open doorway, soaked from head to toe. *Oh hell, please don't tell me she saw me get burned,* he thought, cringing.
"Oh Dennis, I'm so glad I found you!" she cried, running over to him and grabbing his hand in both of hers. Her eyes were misty with unshed tears. "I'm sorry I couldn't reach you at your condominium, but I had to find you to tell you that I'm leaving for Italy tomorrow morning, and I don't know if I'll ever be back!"
He blinked at her, baffled. "What the--"
"I just want you to know," she continued ranting, squeezing his hand in a vice-like grip, "that even though we'll never see each other again, I'll always remember you!" His eyes widened as she rested her hands on either side of his face. "Your eyes, your lips, your voice... You're the most amazing lover I've ever had. I'll never forget you, Dennis Finch."
Finch was about to feel Maya's forehead to make sure she wasn't experiencing a relapse of her illness when she suddenly leaned forward and put her mouth to his. Numb from shock except for his pulse as it quickened to the point of resembling a malfunctioning metronome, he sat powerlessly while her fingers passed through his hair. A shiver erupted in his spine, and finally something clicked in his brain. He kissed her back, running his fingertips along her jawline, and as she pulled away excruciatingly slowly, he very nearly fell off the stool onto his head.
"Goodbye, Dennis," she said huskily. "You'll find true love someday."
For some reason or another, his vocal chords were unresponsive. So instead of replying, he merely gazed stupidly at her for a while. He was aware of a sudden presence at his elbow, and he turned his head slighly to see the redheaded woman bite her lip shyly and slip a folded piece of paper into his hand.
"Call me," she whispered, casting a worried glance at Maya. Finch managed to make a strangled noise in return, and the woman walked slowly out of the bar, taking a last look at him over her shoulder.
Maya smirked. "You're welcome," she said smugly, sliding onto the stool next to him and folding her arms. Finch was stunned.
When he could finally speak, he turned toward her, fully aware of the stricken expression on his face. "What in God's name was that about!?"
"Oh, quit freaking out, Finch," she said, chuckling to herself. "I saw your, let's just say, ineloquent pass at that girl when I came in, and I decided you'd probably need some help getting the edge on her. Get me the same as him," she told the bartender, pointing to Finch's drink.
"I didn't need any help," he replied, indignant. His voice gave a humiliating crack on the last word. "How'd you find me anyway?" he muttered, swivelling back to the counter.
The bartender set Maya's drink in front of her, and she took a small sip. "Mmm, pretty good. Maybe I should start trusting your tastes more." Spinning the glass in a lazy circle with her fingers, she sighed. "How did I find you?" she repeated, avoiding his eyes. "Well, I figured, in such a small town, there wouldn't be many places someone like you would go."
He snorted. "Someone like me?"
"Yeah," she said quietly, her eyes still hesitant to meet his. "Someone who had to get away from a... certain person, because he had just gotten his feelings hurt by that person; a person whom he assumed cared about him. A person who really *does* care about him, and just made a stupid mistake. A person who will admit what a big-mouthed moron she had been, and how very sorry she is. So I stopped in here." She finally looked up at him, her eyes begging him to forgive her. "Look, I found you."
Finch tried not to smile at her, his male stubbornness refusing to cave under those big doe eyes. It didn't work. "It's cool," he told her, spreading his arms and accepting her hug with ridiculous glee. He paid for their unfinished drinks and walked her out of the bar, the redheaded woman's telephone number forgotton on the counter.
"On the way here, I realized something," Maya reflected as they strolled down the dark, wet sidewalk in the drizzle. "I realized that there is no 'Finch the smart-aleck' or 'Finch the sweetheart'. There's only the one Dennis Finch, and he can be everything at the same time. Rude and sarcastic, yes; but also kind and thoughtful. 'Finch, one in six billion'."
He nodded, trying to keep his eyebrow from lifting as she tucked her arm through his. "Hmm. Know what I realized?"
"What?"
"If I get a cold from all that face-sucking back at the bar, you're going down." He laughed as she smacked him on the back of the head.
A/N: What'd you think? A little too bold of Maya? Perhaps. But in my opinion, she's gotten far less prudish than she was when the show first started. Hey, she helped Finch steal Nina's bikini from the Model Cafe, after all. Anyway, leave a review, because reading them always makes my day! Again, sorry about the delay. The next chapter will definitely not take as long!
Wakizashi
tricksparrow@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: 'Just Shoot Me' does not belong to me. Although I wouldn't mind getting a job working there, even as a stagehand. Here's an impression of me if I worked there: "OH MY GOD, David Spade just made me get him coffee!!!!"
Ciao
a 'Just Shoot Me' fanfiction
by Wakizashi
Saturday, 8:52 P.M.
*Now this is my kind of weekend,* Finch thought, stretching lazily on his bed with his shoes on in a total disregard for the floral-patterned bedspread. *Fat on fast food, all my favorite video games at my disposal, and the love of my life brushing her hair in the bathroom.* He let out a wistful sigh at the thought, trying to focus on non-Maya things as the first drops of rain fell outside the window.
Which was hard, considering he had spent the entire day exclusively with her. After a delectable lunch of sesame chicken(which he had, of course, known was Maya's favorite), sweet-and-sour pork, and fried rice, they had commenced with an all-out battle royale to prove which of them was the electronic champion of the universe. Maya's talents had shone at every racing game they had played, but Finch was the all-time, hands-down victor when it came to the fighting games. At present, the match was a draw.
After their digital appetites had been satiated, their stomachs once again demanded their attention. They had forced themselves to leave the motel room and get some fresh air, and took a walk to the nearby Taco Bell-- Maya's treat. Even though they had kindly been requested to leave after Finch had started drinking hot sauce with a straw and raised quite the commotion, they still enjoyed the pleasantly chilly walk back to their room in the retreating evening light. And to top it all off, Maya was almost completely over her cold. The only drawback of the entire night was the decision to watch that moronic, made-for-TV movie about the Bermuda Triangle that had been on. And that was only because there was nothing else to do.
Finch could not remember when he had had such a terrific weekend. Maya was the greatest person in the world to hang out with. Ever. Even now, she was in the bathroom, and he missed her. He felt ridiculous even admitting such a thing to himself, but it was true. He couldn't stand being away from her. What was worse, he couldn't stand being *with* her and not being able to grab her and kiss her brains out. But then, that was always how things happened for him.
"Come on, Maya, you've taken long enough," he teased. "Did you fall in or something?"
"That's enough out of you!" The bathroom door opened, and Maya stepped out, her hair no longer restrained by its clasp and cascading past her shoulders in silky rivulets. Finch couldn't help but gape. She was gorgeous and she didn't even know it.
"Oh wow, it's really starting to come down out there," she said as she sat down on her bed. "Umm, can I borrow your toothpaste? The cold medicine was making me all spacey this morning, and I completely forgot to bring any."
"I shall be glad to hook you up." He rolled off the bed onto his stomach, eliciting a laugh from her, and fished around in his luggage until he found a tube of Colgate. He offered it up to her, and she accepted it graciously.
"Many thanks."
He craned his head and watched her as she returned to the bathroom, and once he was certain she was occupied, he reached under the bed and pulled out a book bound in deep red leather. Passing his hand over the cover, he read the slightly faded gold letters: 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' by William Shakespeare. He had searched forever in vain at every bookstore in New York City for the oldest copy he could find, but finally, after resorting to a frantic book hunt on Ebay, he had found this little gem; printed in 1610 and in... well, reasonably good condition. It wasn't anything special, but as long as it brought a smile to Maya's face, it was worth the hassle.
As abruptly as that thought had entered his mind, another one soon took its place. What would Jack say about this little gift? Finch knew exactly what he would say: "Sooo, Dennis, thought you'd get on my daughter's good side with a premeditated present? Thought you'd get a hug in return, or a kiss on the cheek, maybe something more?" Looking down at the book in his hands, he finally scowled. *Hell with it,* he thought. He didn't go to the trouble of getting something for Maya to win her over. He did it because she was his friend, and he knew she would like it.
Getting to his feet, he made his way to her bed and threw back the covers. After he placed the book carefully on top of one of the pillows, he hastily pulled the bedclothes back into place as he heard the bathroom door open. He quickly flopped down on his own bed, and Maya entered the room once more.
"Hey Ma-YAH, care to play another round of 'Silent Hill 2'?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows. "I'll time you this time and see how long it takes you to get killed."
She made a disgusted face. "Ugh, no thanks. The sound effects in that game are so disturbing. It's like they brought a tape recorder down into Hell."
"Mm, nice analogy." He held back a grin as he watched her sit down on her bed and frown at the square outline on her pillow. She pulled back the bedspread, her eyes widening.
"What..." Lifting the book as if it were some sacred artifact, she looked up at Finch in disbelief. "Did you...?"
Feigning a look of perplexity, he came to sit next to her and shook his head. "Now isn't that odd? I was always led to believe that hotels usually left mints on their guests' pillows. Guess the times have changed."
"Finch!" She turned the book over reverently in her hands, an enormous smile lighting up her entire face. "I can't believe you did this! This thing's ancient! Look at the binding, it's... well, it looks almost perfect! How did you ever get your hands on this?"
"Oh, that doesn't really matter," he said nonchalantly, patting her shoulder. "I just knew you liked all that Shakespeare garbage, so I thought you'd prefer an older copy over some cheap, six-dollar edition from Barnes & Noble."
Suddenly Maya's arms were around him, and her face was buried in his throat. As with every time she had hugged him, Finch was forced to acknowledge how perfectly she fit against him, how her head tucked neatly just under his chin. He tried taking a deep breath to clear his head, but instead grew foggier as he inhaled the heady aroma of her shampooed hair. Resting his hands lightly on her back, he wondered how long he could maintain consciousness.
"Thank you so much, Dennis," she said, her voice muffled by his shirt collar. His heart did cartwheels at the sound of her voice uttering his first name. Maya never called him Dennis. As she pulled away, she tucked a strand of dark hair self-consciously behind her ear and smiled again. "This is one of the most thoughtful things anyone has ever done for me," she told him, clutching the book fondly against her chest.
He smirked. "Hey. Don't let me catch you telling everyone what a sweetheart I am, or I'll lose that whole Finchy image I got going on."
At that Maya laid her book on her lap and frowned up at him in deep thought. In fact, she stared at him so long that he was about to wave a hand in front of her eyes when she finally spoke. "Finch... Why do you have to act like that, if it's not even who you are? Why *do* you act so rude, and insensitive, and... Finchy?"
Oh, that stung. "What, is that what the term is for jerks now? 'Finchy'?" He rose to his feet, insulted. "Do you think I act the way I do on purpose? Or to hide who I really am? Listen, Maya, if I could be the kind, caring Dennis Finch you wish I could be, I would, but this is who I am, all right? Why can't you just accept me as *me*?" What was he saying? This was *him* talking, wasn't it?
She stood up quickly and put her hand on his arm. "I do, Finch!" she protested. "You don't understand. It's just, lately you haven't been acting yourself. Or maybe you *have* been acting yourself, and you never did before." She shook her head, trying to get her thoughts straight. "But what I meant was, you have it in you to be as sweet as I know you really are. So why can't you?"
"I don't have to listen to this, Ann Landers," he said angrily, walking to the door and yanking his coat on. "If I'm too Finchy for the likes of you, why'd you even want to come with me?"
"Where are you going?" she demanded.
"What do you care?" he replied, slamming the door shut behind him.
As the water from a puddle seeped through Finch's sock and up the leg of his khakis, he wondered why he had to fall for Maya in the first place. She was so intelligent, and sophisticated, and compassionate and... well, above him. All he would ever be was a scrawny little wiseass, a disappointment to his family, and a punching bag for the majority of humankind.
And an idiot who had forgotten to bring an umbrella.
*Guess I have to face the facts,* he thought morosely, splashing down the wet sidewalk in no particular direction. *Even if anything happened between us, everyone would laugh us into an early break-up. She likes Steinbeck and London, I like Calvin and Hobbes. She goes to the opera, I go to Blockbuster Video. We're two totally different people.*
He stopped in his tracks, looking up at the sky in despair. If they were so different, why did they seem so perfect for each other? When Maya was with him, she was more outgoing and less afraid to be herself. And when he was with her, she made him feel like he didn't have to make wisecracks to win approval. *We just... fit together,* he thought, his throat tightening.
After walking aimlessly for several more minutes, Finch halted in the doorway of a bar and shook the rain out of his hair. He sighed, pushing the door open and stepping inside. Only one way to drown your sorrows.
It was a typical dive. Neon Budweiser and Heineken signs in the tinted windows, torn leather bar stools, and a TV on the fuzz. He sat down on one of the stools and wiped off the surface of the bar distastefully. "Sea Breeze," he requested to the bartender, a hulking mass of muscles and T-shirt.
For a while he sat motionless, staring down at the grimy floor. His unkempt blond hair fell forward into his eyes, obscuring his view of the green-and-white sneakers he wore. *Further proof of how different I am from Maya,* he mused blackly. She was so down-to-earth, so responsible, while he was so immature sometimes that he truly believed his twelve-year-old cousin was less juvenile. If Finch wasn't watching cartoons on a Saturday morning in his monkey slippers, chances were he was off at the arcade forgetting to pick up his laundry. Maya would sure have a lot of patience for that.
Peripherally he became aware of an attractive redheaded woman sitting two stools away from him. He turned in his seat and bestowed his trademark sardonic grin at her. "Hey, can I buy you a drink?"
"I already have one," she deadpanned, lifting up a martini to illustrate her response.
As his drink was brought to him, he shifted to the seat next to her. "So you do, isn't that interesting?" He held out his hand, which the woman took reluctantly. "D. Finch. So what do people do for entertainment here in the fair town of Monticello? Besides roundin' up the hogs and such."
"Ridicule visitors who think they're more refined than us," she replied. That being said, she took her martini with her as she sat at the stool farthest away from him. Ouch.
"Dennis!"
He jumped in his seat and swivelled around to see Maya standing in the open doorway, soaked from head to toe. *Oh hell, please don't tell me she saw me get burned,* he thought, cringing.
"Oh Dennis, I'm so glad I found you!" she cried, running over to him and grabbing his hand in both of hers. Her eyes were misty with unshed tears. "I'm sorry I couldn't reach you at your condominium, but I had to find you to tell you that I'm leaving for Italy tomorrow morning, and I don't know if I'll ever be back!"
He blinked at her, baffled. "What the--"
"I just want you to know," she continued ranting, squeezing his hand in a vice-like grip, "that even though we'll never see each other again, I'll always remember you!" His eyes widened as she rested her hands on either side of his face. "Your eyes, your lips, your voice... You're the most amazing lover I've ever had. I'll never forget you, Dennis Finch."
Finch was about to feel Maya's forehead to make sure she wasn't experiencing a relapse of her illness when she suddenly leaned forward and put her mouth to his. Numb from shock except for his pulse as it quickened to the point of resembling a malfunctioning metronome, he sat powerlessly while her fingers passed through his hair. A shiver erupted in his spine, and finally something clicked in his brain. He kissed her back, running his fingertips along her jawline, and as she pulled away excruciatingly slowly, he very nearly fell off the stool onto his head.
"Goodbye, Dennis," she said huskily. "You'll find true love someday."
For some reason or another, his vocal chords were unresponsive. So instead of replying, he merely gazed stupidly at her for a while. He was aware of a sudden presence at his elbow, and he turned his head slighly to see the redheaded woman bite her lip shyly and slip a folded piece of paper into his hand.
"Call me," she whispered, casting a worried glance at Maya. Finch managed to make a strangled noise in return, and the woman walked slowly out of the bar, taking a last look at him over her shoulder.
Maya smirked. "You're welcome," she said smugly, sliding onto the stool next to him and folding her arms. Finch was stunned.
When he could finally speak, he turned toward her, fully aware of the stricken expression on his face. "What in God's name was that about!?"
"Oh, quit freaking out, Finch," she said, chuckling to herself. "I saw your, let's just say, ineloquent pass at that girl when I came in, and I decided you'd probably need some help getting the edge on her. Get me the same as him," she told the bartender, pointing to Finch's drink.
"I didn't need any help," he replied, indignant. His voice gave a humiliating crack on the last word. "How'd you find me anyway?" he muttered, swivelling back to the counter.
The bartender set Maya's drink in front of her, and she took a small sip. "Mmm, pretty good. Maybe I should start trusting your tastes more." Spinning the glass in a lazy circle with her fingers, she sighed. "How did I find you?" she repeated, avoiding his eyes. "Well, I figured, in such a small town, there wouldn't be many places someone like you would go."
He snorted. "Someone like me?"
"Yeah," she said quietly, her eyes still hesitant to meet his. "Someone who had to get away from a... certain person, because he had just gotten his feelings hurt by that person; a person whom he assumed cared about him. A person who really *does* care about him, and just made a stupid mistake. A person who will admit what a big-mouthed moron she had been, and how very sorry she is. So I stopped in here." She finally looked up at him, her eyes begging him to forgive her. "Look, I found you."
Finch tried not to smile at her, his male stubbornness refusing to cave under those big doe eyes. It didn't work. "It's cool," he told her, spreading his arms and accepting her hug with ridiculous glee. He paid for their unfinished drinks and walked her out of the bar, the redheaded woman's telephone number forgotton on the counter.
"On the way here, I realized something," Maya reflected as they strolled down the dark, wet sidewalk in the drizzle. "I realized that there is no 'Finch the smart-aleck' or 'Finch the sweetheart'. There's only the one Dennis Finch, and he can be everything at the same time. Rude and sarcastic, yes; but also kind and thoughtful. 'Finch, one in six billion'."
He nodded, trying to keep his eyebrow from lifting as she tucked her arm through his. "Hmm. Know what I realized?"
"What?"
"If I get a cold from all that face-sucking back at the bar, you're going down." He laughed as she smacked him on the back of the head.
A/N: What'd you think? A little too bold of Maya? Perhaps. But in my opinion, she's gotten far less prudish than she was when the show first started. Hey, she helped Finch steal Nina's bikini from the Model Cafe, after all. Anyway, leave a review, because reading them always makes my day! Again, sorry about the delay. The next chapter will definitely not take as long!
Wakizashi
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