A/N: Huge thank you to midnightelite for beta-ing this for me!
Count
One week.
They'd agreed a break was needed one week ago.
But this isn't the first time.
They're a waltz, counting to three again and again.
Honestly, Sirius doesn't want to count the number of times they've both said that a break was needed, that they were getting in too deep, getting too close. They're on again, off again about as often as it rains in London in November.
But they have one place, this one pub where they find each other again.
Every time.
Sirius walks in, like he's done so many times now he could do it blindfolded, and walks to the bar.
Two shots.
He orders two shots and wonders if this is the time she'll be stronger than him. If this time they weren't lies; if this time she really will cut them off. If this is the time he'll be the lonely drunk sitting at the bar missing a woman he isn't able to admit to needing in his life in any other way than showing up at this pub; hoping she needs him too, no matter how much they both said they don't want more, don't want to be in too deep.
One hour.
He tells himself just one hour and then he'll leave. If she isn't here in one hour then he'll take it as a sign that maybe they do need to stop this roulette game they play using their hearts as the targets.
Two taps.
Two taps on his shoulder and he can feel the smile pull on his lips.
"Hey Black."
Her blonde curls are pulled up off her neck, ice blue eyes sparkling, blood-red lips, black leather jacket hugging her shoulders and waist.
It's deja vu. They've done this so many times.
"McKinnon."
One touch.
He leans in for one touch, a kiss on her cheek in greeting, something that means nothing with any other woman, Lily, Emmeline, Mary, it's nothing, but with Marlene, it's the beginning of the end.
Two seconds.
He lingers at her cheek for two seconds, two seconds of filling his senses with Marlene and the soft almost spicy scent that's always been her. Two seconds of grounding himself in her presence. Two seconds of bringing himself back to this place he's been longing for this last week. Two seconds of her.
She's fire; burning better than a shot of any top-shelf bottle and filling his veins with a buzz higher than any drug.
"It's good to see you."
The dim lights of the pub shadow them, protecting them from the reality of how careless they are; how they both can't seem to set their pride aside long enough to end this game, one way or the other.
But like a count down they always end up back here.
Marlene smiles at him as she pulls up the stool to his left, her fingers sliding along the arm of his own leather jacket, stopping at his elbow before letting go entirely.
Like they swore they were doing one week ago.
"How're things?"
"Good," he lies. "And you?"
"Good," she lies too. Just like every time they've done this.
It hasn't been "good." It's been the nightmare of feeling like a part of your chest has been torn out but you force yourself to move forward like it meant nothing, like it means nothing, when it's everything.
One drink.
He swears he'll have one drink with her and go home.
Two minutes.
It takes two minutes before she's resting her foot on his barstool and he's running his black boot against her calf as he slides his eyes along the curve of her neck.
She's fire and he can't look away from the flames.
"No ones playing snooker," She leans into him, nearly touching him, nearly. Her voice is casual, but Sirius knows it now, knows her now, the front of bored indifference she wears when something means more, means everything. "Fancy a frame?"
And he can't say no. Because it means everything to him too.
One frame.
He'll play one frame and go home, but even as he tells himself the lie his hand lands on the small of her back and she's leaning into his touch.
Two frames.
She's beat him this time and her smile is everything as she calls for a tiebreaker while her fingers intertwine loosely with his.
Three frames.
He doesn't know the score anymore as he pins her against the table. She's laughing, arguing that she isn't cheating if she picks up the ball and puts it right back where she found it.
"You put it down a solid foot away from where it was." He has his left hand on the table's edge, his right hand holding his cue against the table, boxing her in, giving him the view he's been dreaming of every night since they said they were done.
"Did I?" She purrs. "Are you sure you're not drunk?" Her fingers slide along the zipper of his jacket, leaving teasing brushes against his chest.
She's fire; lighting up his blood more than any alcohol could ever hope to.
"I'm barely tipsy, Marly," he's leaning closer now, can see in her eyes she's nowhere close to her limit.
One drink.
They've each had one drink.
Two shots.
He's had two shots.
Three seconds.
It takes him three seconds to close the distance and for her to meet him halfway.
Her cue hits his before sliding to the floor with a clatter as her hands pull his face closer.
His cue follows with the same sound as he wraps his arms around her waist, pulling their bodies flush against one another. Her fingers spear through his hair as he slants his lips over hers, sliding his tongue along her bottom lip, feeling his heart rate increase as she meets his fervor. Black fingernails run along his scalp as he slips his hands under her jacket and up her back, hungrily tracing the curves of her body like a man starved of human contact.
He can't stop kissing her.
He kisses down her chin to her neck and can't be arsed that he's full-on snogging her in this pub against the snooker table.
It's not the first time.
She gasps when he drags his teeth over her pulse point and pulls his mouth back to hers. Her kiss is devouring, her tongue savoring every slide of his own, every taste of his lips.
He can't wait.
Sirius slides kisses up her cheek to speak low against her ear. "Want to get out of here?"
She arches into him, and the rush it gives him makes him lightheaded, "Yours or mine?"
"My bed is bigger."
"Diva."
"You like it."
"I'll never admit to it."
"And yet you're still going to come back to mine."
"Your bed is bigger."
Sirius' chuckle is low.
He can't wait.
"Let's go."
His arms are around her and everything is right again as he helps her into their ride.
He can't stop kissing her.
Her lips are on his as soon as the car's moving, hands sliding under his jacket neatly pushing it off his shoulders. His hands follow hers, their leather jackets sliding away like the removal of armor and he gets his first full feel of her skin since they thought they could call this over. He guides her arms around his neck and it's deja vu as she climbs into his lap and everything finally feels right again.
He can't wait.
Their jackets are in his hand as they walk to his flat, her fingers threaded through his. Once inside he throws their armor to the sofa as they pull back all their layers one by one. It's a ritual they can do in their sleep but every time it feels like the first, and every time he swears they'll never do this again.
But this time, breathless and clinging to him, Marlene changes the pattern.
Three words.
"I missed you."
Her words wash over him and a part of him wants to run, to remind himself that they called this off, they don't want to get in any deeper. But she's holding on to him like he's everything and he can't bring himself to lie, not when her three words have him pulling her closer, bringing his lips to hers again in a slower, deeper kiss.
Four words.
"I missed you too."
She lets out a slow breath, deepening their kiss further, sliding against him in a languid exploration of this new count.
Four words.
"Can I stay tonight?"
He brings his hands to her hair, cupping her head as she looks down at him. He needs her. He doesn't know how to say it, not yet, but he can't wait forever.
Four words.
"I want you here."
Her smile is shy in a way that he's never seen before, vulnerable, hopeful, and a little scared. He feels it too, this shift into the unknown with the four words they've both admitted to. But he can't wait forever.
They're slowly starting up again, their kisses deeper, their bodies closer, their hearts peeking out from behind the dozens of walls they've both thrown up.
In the morning, he promises himself, in the morning he'll give her more of himself. In the morning, he'll swallow his pride and tell her he needs her. He'll tell her everything in the morning.
Tonight, he just wants to hold her again and feel her chest rise and fall against his own as their hearts beat together.
In the morning, she'll know he needs her.
And someday, she'll know he loves her.
He can't wait forever.