A/N: This one has one of the most overused plots in FF. But I still think Wrennie and John deserve this one as well :)

A/N#2: Dear LABrown16, a little air kiss for you and a reminder of the lovely conversation we had about RA!

"So what is it it that you do?" He has the most amazing voice, low, smoky, with just the perfect raspiness. All together he is a very pleasant company, if only she weren't feeling so painfully awkward. Not every day one gets stuck in a lift with such a gorgeous specimen. When he just came in, she felt her breathing hitch. He is very tall, large, exuding physical and mental power. An impeccable suit, elegant tie, and a surprisingly fitting ponytail. She obviously knows who he is, his face is all over the papers. John Thorington, a famous barrister and one of the most chased after bachelors in this hemisphere. Gossip columns are full of his candids, though Wren doesn't read them.

"I'm a librarian." He chuckles in the darkness. By now they are both sitting on the floor, it's been an hour. So far they have exchanged a couple polite phrases and realized both their mobiles have no coverage in the lift. They've also established that none of them is claustrophobic, and now they are sitting on the floor, he is twirling his posh Nexus in his fingers. Hers is cheaper, but is also an Android. She used to date a computer scientist.

"I should have guessed," his tone is teasing, but it's a nice smile in his voice. She giggles as well. He smells very nice.

"What gave me out? The glasses or the badge I always forget to take off when I leave work?"

"The pencil in your hair." Her hand flies up to her curls, and he is indeed right. She feels so embarrassed that she decides to keep quiet till they get them out of here. "So what are you doing in our toff building?" He apparently has different plans. And the slight self-degrading sarcasm really works for him.

"I was coming to pick up my friend after work, wanted to surprise her, she is an office assistant on the eleventh."

"Thea Martin?" He sounds even more amused.

"You know her?"

"Everybody knows Thea. Well, every male in this building knows Thea." She can't see his face, but she bets he is smirking. She knows for certain Thea hasn't shagged him. She would have told Wren all about it, in excruciating details that Wren really doesn't want to hear. But Thea is planning to. Luckily for him that would only involve "a nice one-off, no post-conking mankiness". Obviously, these are Thea's words. Wren blushes too easily to use words like that. She doesn't know what to answer him. In a moment she hears strange hissing noise, almost inaudible.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm taking off my tie, it's been a long day." He rustles some more, probably unbuttoning the top of his shirt, and from his movement the fragrance from his cologne is stronger in the air. He is sitting rather far away, but she still feels as if heat is coming off him in waves. Maybe she is just imagining it. When the lift jerked and stopped, and the lights went out, she grabbed his forearm. That is yet another reason why she is embarrassed. To immediately grasp for a man for help, like a faint prone maiden in a muslin dress, that is so against her feminist views.

And now she knows how hot he is. His other hand lay on her back, protectively supporting her, and now she knows that splayed under her shoulder blades his hand covers her from the bra to her knickers. Altogether she is endlessly uncomfortable. Not because of him, but from what she is feeling. It's simple, biological sexual attraction. For the first time in her life she doesn't care what music a man listens to, whether he is respectful towards his mother, or what his views on vegetarianism are. But she wants to know what he tastes like, whether he has chest hair, and she bets he does, he has a thick beard, she noticed the hair on the outside of his wrist, and suddenly an overwhelming fantasy of wrapping her legs around his narrow waist and digging her heels into his buttocks, she had a very good look at them when he turned his back to her in the lift, makes her shift on her backside uncomfortably.

"We should talk about something," his voice is lazy, all chocolate syrup and molasses, and that is definitely not something she needs to listen to right now. For the first time in her twenty six years Wren Leary, a prudish, reclusive, potentially frigid know-it-all, literally feels dizzy from suffocating turn on. And here she thought that was only happening in novels. "Miss Leary, are you asleep there?"

"No," her voice is coarse, "I am just… frustrated..." She internally berates herself, she really should have chosen a different word. "I hate not seeing a face of a person I'm talking to. For example, I hate ringing anybody. I'd rather just walk to anyone's office than ringing. And my school was Catholic, but I never went for confession..." She babbles, when she is nervous. And apparently when she is randy. Who knew.

"So you are also a good Catholic girl. If you tell me you are wearing a chastity ring, I'll have trouble believing you are real." Her cheeks start burning furiously. She did indeed wore the ring till she was twenty three. And then Auggie happened. But that's quite a different story.

"I am indeed a spinster if that's what you are hinting at." She doesn't know why she is saying this. If that's her attempt to flirt, it is endlessly pathetic.

"So, you prefer Darcy and Thornton to real men?" His tone is laughing, and she makes a surprised snort like noise. "My sister is a teacher of English."

"I find real men rather disappointing." She once again asks herself what she thinks she is doing.

"Are they only interested in one thing? A fate worse than death for you?" He is openly chuckling now. A low warm rumbling in his chest. She can't stop thinking about the chest. She has never before been interested in male physicality. She is being a hypocrite, the only man she has ever shagged was gorgeous. She has never had an orgasm with him. She has always assumed one has to know what they are doing and have a certain inborn level of libido to enjoy sex. Neither applies to her in her opinion.

"Real men are not direct enough. I think people have to be honest and open with each other. I am all for fair play. Say what you want from a start, what are all these games for? What's the point of convincing another person that you need something different if you are only feeling something completely physical? Or say, if a bloke wants to marry and move to Australia, why pretend it's just a light affair and then blame the girl for his broken heart?" Wren stops and realizes that twenty seconds ago right after his question was actually a favourable moment to shut her gob. He is quiet, digesting her outburst. She wonders if there is a door in the floor that she can open and jump down to her certain demise.

Suddenly he shifts in the darkness, and she feels his fingers brush at her shoulder. She squeaks, and he chuckles. His hand is gone, he was just trying to determine where she is.

"Miss Leary, I will be direct. I find you very attractive and would like to kiss you. It is purely physical, I think your bright red mouth is very sexy. Can I?" His tone is mundane, but she can hear the suppressed laughter. She is silent, her jaw on the floor of the lift. "Are you wearing any lipstick?" She gives it a thought.

"Yes. No." She sounds as if she is being choked.

"Pardon? So yes or no?" She asks herself in a millionth time what the hell she is doing.

"You asked me two questions. I gave you two answers. Yes, you can. No, I am not."

He moves closer, and his scorching palm cups her jaw. "Good, I love it that it's the natural colour," his thumb brushes her bottom lip. "Good indeed." He leans in and kisses her.

She did expect it to be mind blowing, what she didn't expect is the reaction of her body. She makes a purring sound she didn't know she could make, grabs his ears and straddles him. He makes an oomph sound in return, he is surprised and she has just pretty much drilled her pelvis into his, but he doesn't seem to mind. They are kissing like teenagers that are left in a house alone for the first time, and she realizes he is very, very well-endowed. She wouldn't be able to use any other words even in her head, even if she could think. She can't. She is busy nipping and sucking at his neck, her hands on his naked chest. Apparently she has opened the buttons on his shirt. Apparently she doesn't care.

His hands are underneath her skirt, rubbing and squeezing her buttocks, he is far from gentle, she finds it exhilarating. He twists his neck from under her greedy mouth and catches her earlobe between his teeth.

"God, what are you even?.." He mumbles and sucks on her neck. There will be a mark there. His long fingers slide under her knickers, now he is aware how aroused she is. He breathes out an intricate swearing. She shift her pelvis, trying to create more friction, and whines. He rubs just the right spot, and she moans loudly. "I have a Durex..."

She is pretty much riding his hand, when the meaning reaches her brain, and she rasps, "Hurry up..." He pulls the hand out of her, and she swears for the first time in her life. He grabs the back of her head with the left hand and pulls her into a deep kiss. He is probably trying to keep her from forgetting what they were doing and getting some of common sense back. There is no danger of that. She runs the tip of her tongue on his lips, and he growls. He pulls his wallet and lets her go to open the square package. She moves away, letting him roll it over himself, and then his arm wraps around her waist, and he pushes her on the floor.

"I would normally… But fuck it, I need you like that..." He is not making any sense, she doesn't care again.

He pushes into her, and she sinks her teeth into his shirt covered shoulder. She doesn't know where his jacket has gone. Her legs are indeed around his waist, and she arches to the point where she thinks something is going to crack in her spine. He is large, hot, and she breathes loudly through her nose still biting on his shoulder. His hands slide under her, his palms on her shoulder blades, she can feel his scorching skin through the jersey of her dress, and then he thrusts into her. His shoulder is not enough anymore, her moan is rather loud. He sets a forceful rhythm, his movements deep and purposeful. She doesn't understand anything anymore, and then she suddenly comes. She cries out, her voice raspy, all her body shaking, her nails dig into his back, and she sobs. He thrusts couple more times and comes as well. He is quieter than her, but he is panting as well. His head falls on the floor of the lift with a thud, and that's when the phone on the wall comes back to life.

He moves out of her in a smooth movement, and she whines again. She is still half conscious, the world would have been blurry if it wasn't that dark. He shift somewhere there in the black ink and picks up. Apparently they are informed that the repairmen are here. She pulls up her knickers, judging by rustling and zipping up he is trying to straighten up his clothes as well.

"Wren..." His voice is quiet, and she makes this "mhm" noise that can be interpreted any way. By the movement of air she guesses he is trying to find her in the dark waving his arm, when the light suddenly returns. She closes her eyes, she got used to the darkness, and she really can't look at him. She doesn't want to see any of the emotions she is sure he feels. Pity, regret, suspicion, smugness, embarrassment… He gets up and leans back on the wall. She scampers away from him and gets up too. They are standing at the opposite corners, and she still hasn't opened her eyes.

"This is what we are going to do..." He says, his tone even and mundane again, but no smile in it this time, and then the lift starts moving. They pass half the floor they had left before the ground floor, and the doors open. There are firefighters, medics, repairmen and a handful of employees of the building in front of the lift. She dashes out, pushes people from her path and runs faster than she has ever run in her life. When she passes the rotating doors, she realizes she left her badge on the floor of the lift, and that tears are running down her face.

XXX

John is finishing reading yet another contract when the phone on his desk comes to life. It's his secretary.

"Mr. Thorington, a Miss Wren Leary is here to see you. She has no appointment, but I thought you might still want to see her." Mrs. Perkins has been his secretary from day one. She is perfect. She can add two and two and get four. He asked her to find everything possible about Ms. Wren Elizabeth Leary four months ago.

"Let her in."

He gets up. She looks well. Skinny jeans, a simple white shirt, hair in a ponytail. She looks so nervous that he think if one gives her a glass of milk, she'll make a thickshake in thirty seconds by simply holding it in her hand. She visibly gulps.

"Hello, Wren. I think less official address makes more sense, since we are sort of acquainted." He jokes to hide how her nervousness seems to spill onto him. She nods and sits in front of his desk in the chair he gestured at. She is still not talking. "So what can I do for you?"

He has looked for her. After three weeks of pretending he is not thinking about her 24/7 he called the library number on her badge. They said she was on sick leave. He spent another week considering how much he was prepared to do to see her again, and realized that the list was rather long. He went to the eleventh floor and found Thea Martin. She said she hadn't talked to her friend in four weeks, and he knew she was lying. He is a barrister after all, he asked all the right questions, but she was adamant. He asked Mrs. Perking to find everything about Wren. He learnt she was single and all information about her took half a page. No fines, no marriages, no divorces, no money, except an absolutely transparent account in the most popular bank, no pets, a rented flat. She was a foster child, went to the university, received highest grades, but didn't stay for post graduate. She works in a library and doesn't drive. She is a simple as it gets. And he doesn't understand why he wakes up every morning with an empty feeling and a hard on from the sensual dreams he has about her. And not just shagging her. In his dreams they drink tea, kiss on garden swings, take baths, and he is the least romantic man you can imagine. He needs to know what it is about her.

He sees her nervously wriggle her hands and bit into her bottom lip. "First of all, I need you to know I never do what we did that day. I have no boyfriend, I don't really date and I don't get picked up in pubs and don't do one-offs." Her speech sounds prepared. "I knew who you were when you came into the lift, so don't bother suspecting me. I hadn't planned it and I was honestly going for dinner with Thea. And I know, I know for sure, you are not going to believe a word I am going to say, so don't bother. But I need to say it." Suddenly she lifts her chin and looks him straight into the eyes. He didn't know what colour they were. They are amber, both green and brown at the same time, strange slanted shape, and they are burning. He sees character, strong will, and understands that everything she does in life she does because she chooses to. He assumed she took a job as a librarian because she lacked ambitions or perhaps because having grown up in seven consecutive foster homes she was afraid of a challenge. He now sees she just always wanted to be a librarian. She clenches her fists. "I am pregnant, and it is yours."

The silence in his office is deafening. For forty two seconds. He counted. And then she exhales and gets up. He jumps on his feet too, a drawback of his posh upbringing, impeccable manners. Or perhaps he is going to grab her arm if she tries to run. But she is not leaving. She starts pacing his office. It is so out of place that he freezes behind his desk.

"None of it makes sense, and I know what you are going to say..." This part is definitely unprepared, but he guesses her reserve is slipping. "I am not on a pill, why would I be… I never have sex. And we used a condom, and I don't know if you checked… And I have so little experience with it… But it seemed to be alright, I mean it didn't seem to leak..." Her cheeks are starting to burn, she has pale skin, she must be blushing all the time. He is staring at the freckles, he didn't know she had freckles. He saw her pictures, he had had a good look at her when he entered the lift, something about her made him look again, and again, catching her reflection in the lift door, while she was fidgeting with her badge. But only just now he realized she has freckles. It's like a revelation from Heaven. "I made sure, I did the test, I saw a doctor..." She stops in front of him and inhales. He understands another prepared speech is coming. "I don't need anything from you. I decided to let you know because I think you have the right. I don't need..."

"Shut up." His tone is sharp. He pretty much just yelled at her, and she freezes with her mouth half open. His hands are shaking. His hands never shake. "I was looking for you, I went to see your friend..."

"She told me." She interrupts, no one ever interrupts him. He is the King of the Courtroom. "I only just found out then, and there is a chance to miscarry, so I needed to wait and be sure before telling you." She bites into her bottom lip again. "Why were you looking for me?"

"I wanted to ask you out."

"Why?" That is a strange question, and he looks at her attentively trying to understand what she is actually asking about. "No one ever does."

"Someone once did, you weren't a virgin that day in the lift." He doesn't know why he is saying it. He saw the file. August Anderson, computer programmer, moved to Australia three years ago.

"That's none of your business." She jerks her chin up again, and that's when he realizes he is in love with her. He knows very little, but he is certain he can't learn anything new that wouldn't make him fall in love with her more. He also understands that she is shaking, and she is on the verge of crying. She is carrying his child, and he needs to help her. But he knows that if he hugs her the way he wants and and tries to finally kiss her, pressing her small body into him, and finally taste her neck again, she'll most likely run. He understands that's the moment of truth. He needs to say just the right words. That's his closing argument. He's never been that nervous before.

"I wanted to ask you out because it was special. You were. I needed to see what else was there. I am a hundred percent sure you felt it too. And it was the greatest shag in my life." The corners of her lips twitch. He is almost sure she has a sarcastic sense of humour, and only the anxious state she in in right now prevents her from some very pointed remark. He'd love her even without a sense of humour, but that's a bonus.

"If only you said it all before I told you of the baby..." And he got his answer. It's a baby for her already. And her eyes are smiling. She'd go out with him had he found her before. It's still worked out just fine. He's got her, and he really has nothing against children. With her he maybe wants four. He slowly walks around the table and stands in front of her. She is ickle, the crown of her head hardly reaching his clavicles.

"Well," he is looking down at her, and she gives him an impish look slightly tilting her head. That's a new gesture, but then again he knows very little about her. He likes all of it. "You can either take it as it is right now, or doubt me till our fiftieth anniversary, suit yourself."

"Well," she mimics his intonation, "That would be just daft. What's the point of doubting? Once one agrees on something of the sort, might as well go all in."

He picks up her chin with his index finger and lifts her face. "Where have you been, Wren?"

"In Derbyshire. I wanted to see Haddon Hall, the inspiration for Thornfield from Jane Eyre," she smiles to him. "I hated every minute of it."

"Morning sickness?" He asks and suddenly feels like a proper future father and a partner.

"I wanted to come back and see you." He smiles to her too. He wants to kiss her and see if she blushes from that too. And then he remembers he can. He leans in and gently brushes his lips to hers. He remembers how she lunged at him in the lift and smiles into the kiss. Predictably she rushes in, wraps her arms around his neck and moans into his mouth. Twenty seconds later they are both panting, she is sitting on the edge of his desk, his tie is on the floor.

"Wren... Wren..." She is not paying attention, she is making those small whining noises that drove him bonkers last time, and her small strong hands are roaming his chest. "Wren, you have to stop… We have to stop… I'm not shagging you on my desk, in front of the eyes of half the city, I have a very large window..." She immediately stops and looks behind her. She is rose cheeked, and her hair has escaped the ponytail, and he kisses her cheek. "And we already know we are good at this, we should try to talk..." Her delicate nose twitches, and he guffaws. She looks very, very disappointed. "How about I escape my office now and we go to my place to talk?"

Her nod is very enthusiastic, and he quickly pecks her lips. It's a mistake. Three minutes later they tumble into the ensuite washroom of his office, his jacket and shirt left on the floor near the desk, and he slams the door behind them.