A/N: I have no bloody clue what that is! I found it in some long forgotten folder and don't know what to make of it... What was I thinking when writing it? Don't ask me! It was one of the first modern AUs, before Dr. John Crispin Thorington and etc., and where I was going with that is a mystery to forever stay unsolved!
Has it actually been ten years? Blimey. It has, and here is the proof for you. The watch is rested on the velvet of a case, Patek Philippe Calatrava, white gold, blue crocodile bracelet. And a card with her decisive elegant writing. Because you asked about the back lid. And on the other side: Happy tenth anniversary of our cooperation! So that you are never late again :) W. Only she could put a smiley face on a Smythson card. You pick up the watch and look at the back. You see the mechanism. You chuckle, unlike her you know nothing of the expensive watch. You expected an engraving. Then you see on the back of the bracelet written in a golden ink it says Peterson and Leary, 10 years of bickering partnership.
You have worked together for ten years. And for ten years you have been in love with your partner like an eighth grader. First she was married, then she was heartbroken, then she was divorced. The joke became old, and you just got used to being dragged along through her turbulent life. Through a stormy romance with an Italian prince. Through that guy who turned out to be a former addict. Through her parents' funeral. Through her brother's weddings. Through laughing, crying, hospitalization and a cancer scare. You are always here, you are just a call away. You flew through three states to pick her up when she broke her leg skiing with some tosser in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. He didn't even drive her to the hospital.
You cried in her arms when your grandfather died. You got drunk after Janine dumped you and were probably hitting on her. You woke up in her bed, she brought you breakfast and running her hand through your hair she was smiling to you. Then she handed you a glass and two white pills and said, "We will never talk about it." She sat in the waiting room with you for five nights when your sister's car got rammed by a drunk truck driver.
You love the watch and never take it off. You replace the bracelet, take the watch for cleaning to the old Italian watchmaker in downtown that she suggested, and in two years you get used to the weight on your wrist. And then it gets lost. You are walking through the same patch of beach for the tenth time but it's not here. You were definitely sitting here, under this exact palm tree, you were playing with the empty beer bottle. Here are your footprints, but no watch. The night is warm, the huge stars are above your head, and you just don't understand. "Peterson, what are you doing there?" She is calling from the illuminated path, and you curse under your breath. Of course she just needed to show up now. "Nothing, just getting some fresh air." The white spot of her dress is bobbing as she is bouncing down the steps. No, don't come here… Oh, bugger.
The hair is pinned up, elegant long neck bare, thin gauzy dress hugging the waist, wide skirts flowing around the limber legs. A vision in white… "What are you doing in the dark?" She takes off the shoes and walks to you.
"I lost my watch," you confess.
"What? Here?"
"I was sitting and playing with the bracelet, and I guess it got unfastened and slipped off." You are looking together for another fifteen minutes. It is not here. You are livid. "It doesn't make any sense. I was sitting right here! I didn't move anywhere! I noticed just a few steps away..." You are yelling and kick the sand.
"Peterson..." You continue railing. "Doug..." Her tone is soft and she puts her small palm on your upper arm. "Just let it go. Sometimes things just leave us."
"No," you are shaking from fury, not even understanding what drives you so mad. "I want my watch, I love my watch. You gave it to me!"
"I remember," she smiles, but you just don't want to calm down.
"I want it back! Fuck it! Just fuck it!" You never swear in front of her. Or any woman for that matter.
"Common, let's go back." You jerk your arm out of her gentle hands.
"I'll look some more."
"Peterson, there is no point..."
"Don't tell me this! Just don't say it! Can I have at least some control over my life? Can things just stop..." You are not even sure what you are trying to say. "Can they just stop leaving?!"
"Doug..." She tries to sound pacifying but it seems to push you over the edge.
"I want it back!" You are yelling at her. "I want the stability, don't you understand? I want things to stay where they are. The watch, the firm, you, I want everything to at least stay put! I'm not asking for anything else, do you hear me?! Have I ever asked for more? No! I shut up and take what I'm given! Just stop taking things away from me!" The outburst subsides as quickly as it started, and you are breathing heavily. She is standing in front of you, and you suddenly think that it was probably terrifying. You are a big bloke. You take a step back and sink on the sand.
She doesn't move and is probably chewing on her bottom lip. She always bites her bottom lip when upset or confused.
You mumble, "I had a chat with Thorington from the Erebor Inc." She sighs and comes closer. Then she slowly sits on the sand near you and puts her hand on your shoulder.
"I would never leave to a different firm unless you decided to break up with me."
"They are good architects."
"You are a good architect." You turn and look at her.
"You like me because I'm a good architect. There aren't enough good architects in your life." She chuckles.
"You are such a duffus."
"It's classics."
"Do you fancy yourself a Han?"
"I am Han."
"What's wrong, Doug?" She rarely calls you Doug. You don't like the days when she calls you Doug.
"Thorington said you looked over the contract."
"I didn't. I said no from the start. He was just reeling you up."
"It worked." You feel ashamed. You trusted the sleaze bag over your best friend and yelled at her. You lower your head and swallow with difficulty. "I am sorry."
"It's OK." She puts her head on your shoulder, and you just sit quietly for a few minutes. "I am sorry about the watch." You shake your head.
"I don't want to talk about it. I just don't get it, you see?" She hums softly.
"Sometimes things just leave us," she repeats.
"Well, I don't want them to."
"Sometimes there is nothing you can do."
"I don't accept that." She lifts her head and looks at you.
"What was it about me taking things away from you?"
"What?" You frown at her. What is she about?
"You said to stop taking things away from you. Something about not even asking for more." Bloody fuck, what was that anyways? You are not even drunk.
"I am sorry, I just went really bonkers. Too much fresh air," you are attempting to joke but choke on your fake cheerful tone under her serious stare.
"Do you feel like I am holding you back? Is it about the Lonely Mountain Spa project?" Leave it to her to hear business concerns in your girly emotional outburst!
"No, of course not. Listen I'm just barmy tonight, it was a long month," she is still frowning. "You were completely right about the Spa, we wouldn't have managed it. Not with other projects."
She nods and puts her head back on your shoulder. OK, you talked your way out of another potential difficult conversation. Though, she probably wouldn't go there herself. Sometimes you wonder if it even upsets her that you have been pining over her for twelve years. She seems so nonchalant about it.
She chuckles. "That would be a great time for a make-up sex." You freeze and ask yourself if you heard right. She lifts her face and then her eyes widen.
"Hey, it was just a joke. Peterson?" You suddenly feel that you most definitely hate her sometimes. The bottled up frustration explodes into your face, and you jump up on your feet.
"You know what? It's just not funny anymore. After so many years you could find a different topic for your stupid jokes." You just called her stupid. Oh sod it all anyways!
"What?" She is still sitting and looking up at you in shock.
"I mean I'm the first person to laugh at it sometimes but just stop rubbing it into my face. At least not today! I'm having a very bad day!" You are yelling again.
"What are you talking about?"
"Don't dangle it in front of my nose! Just not today, OK?" And as if it justifies or explains anything, you yell, "I lost my watch!"
"I gave it to you..." She says slowly, and you clench your fists. "I don't understand..." She is looking at you, her green eyes wide open, and for a second you believe her. Of course she doesn't understand, she probably thinks you have been just chummy all these years, just mates, no more… And then you see red again, women are supposed to know this stuff.
"OK, listen. I am going to be direct with you today, sod it all, sod it all, you just..." You are hardly coherent, but... Sod. It. All. "I am fine with it, honestly, most of the time. I mean finding you shagging in the office with that wanker wasn't very rad, but OK, I got over it..." You just said "wanker" to her. Sod it all. "But sometimes you just behave like a bitch. Honestly. I will probably regret saying it tomorrow, but Wren, you are such a bitch sometimes!" You are standing over her breathing heavily, and then you realize what you just did. What you just said. And that she is crying. Tears silently run down her face, her bottom lip is trembling, and now you definitely realized what you did. You hurt your best friend.
You fall on the knees in front of her, "Oh bollocks, Wren, I am so sorry, I didn't mean it..."
"You did," her tone is almost surprised. "All you said today, you meant it all…"
"I didn't! I mean it's my fault, has always been my fault, I should have done something about it instead of moping around like a moron, but it just became a habit, you know, it is comfortable and not scary… Wren, I am sorry, I'm having a midlife crisis here, or something..."
"That is one fucking way of looking at it," she has never sworn in front of you before. She gets up and looks at you downwards. Her small fists are clenched on the sides of her body. "I would say this is more you being the biggest cunt I've met in my life." That feels like she hit you. Probably a punch to the nose would have been less painful. You deserve it.
"Wren, I..."
"You honestly could have found a better way of telling me that all these years I thought you'd been my best friend you just wanted to knob me." Her tone is venomous, and her eyes are burning.
"That's not… That's not what I meant at all. Wren, are you mad? I've been in love with you for twelve years!" It's easy to say. It takes you three seconds after you blurted it out to realize that you have pronounced these words for the first time in your life. You are in love with Wren Leary.
That's when she slaps you. "Don't you dare saying these words! Not now! Not to me! Not to cover up your stupid bitch fit and the slip of your sodding tongue."
She turns on her heels and rushes back to the hotel. You jump up on your feet and grab her hand. She jerks it out and hisses.
"Wren, please, it's true, I have… All this time..."
"You are a wanker!" She yells into your face. "That's not love, that's not how people love! You accept it, you take in the pain, and you fight for it. You stayed by my side all these years, through tossers and wankers I shagged, through everything, like a coward, because it was comfortable, because it was safe! And never for once you thought I might have wanted it too… You didn't even ask! You just hung around!"
"Wren!" You are panicking, "Do you?.. Did you?..."
"Not anymore! Not like that! Oh you wanker!" She actually punches you in the chest with a fist. "God, I hate you so much right now! You just had to arse it all up! Be a man for once, grow a pair, but no, you just had to throw a benny! Don't you dare saying these words to me! This is not love! This is pathetic!" She punches you again. "Yes, I hoped for it, and no, I didn't know you felt something! You were a lying, pretending cunt all these years, and I hoped, and I waited, and then I stopped! Because I don't need a man who is too much of a coward to fight for me!"
She stomps back to the hotel. When you return to your rooms, the desk informs you she has checked out half an hour ago. You get her resignation in email twenty three minutes later. She marries Thorington two months later. They have triplets nine months after the wedding, and then another child. You heard it's a girl.