The second came a week later, after a long day of House badgering her about her sex life and Foreman badgering her about the Huntington's. She slouched into the bar and slumped in a chair, mumbling incoherent acknowledgements for the vodka tonic that appeared in front of her.
Sometime after the fifth of Megan's dangerous mix of scotch and lemon juice and bitters and ginger ale disappeared down her throat and brushing off four disinteresting men and three disinteresting women and their disinteresting drink offers, her head was bowing towards the bar in exhaustion. The empty glass in her vision was removed by a pale hand, another hand with a cloth appearing to wipe down the wood varnish. She stared as some kind of cleaner was spritzed onto the bar and then wiped away with a white cloth, clutched loosely in a thin hand with long fingers and bitten-down nails, freckles and a delicate wrist encased in a silver watch.
"Evening," she said to Megan, raising her eyes to look at the bartender. Megan smiled softly at her, as always, and paused in her ministrations.
"Hi," she said. She rested her palms on her side of the bar, resting her weight against it casually. "You've been very anti-social tonight."
"Contrary to popular belief, I'm actually an introvert," Remy said, unable to keep a mildly flirtatious tone from her voice, or a small smile from tugging at her lips.
"Never would've guessed," Megan said with a small smile of her own.
"So, could I bother you for another drink?"
Megan's smile faltered briefly. "I think you should call it quits for tonight," she said slowly, as if choosing her words carefully.
Remy's own smile slipped from her lips. "Why's that?"
Megan shrugged noncommittally, shifting her weight back. Remy tried to ignore the distance the redhead was adding between them. "You've had plenty tonight," Megan said. "And you're obviously not your usual self, despite how much you've had, for starters."
"My usual self," Remy repeated flatly. "What would you say my usual self is, then?"
Megan shrugged again, fidgeting with the rag in her hands nervously. "Confident," she offered shyly. "Not cocky, but almost. Comfortable in your own skin."
Remy bit back a laugh. "Really?" she drawled. She propped her chin in her hand, leaning forward and staring appraisingly at Megan. The other woman shrunk slightly under her gaze. "For someone working as a bartender, you're surprisingly shy."
Megan met her gaze briefly once more. "If by that you mean I'd rather watch people than talk to them, then yeah, okay."
"That would be what I meant, yes," Remy said. The flirtatious tone was returning, her indignation fading in the face of her curiosity and intrigue. She tilted her head to one side, eyeing Megan closely.
"You know," she said eventually. "I know a guy like that. Who likes to watch people, that is. But you're not like him."
"I'm not?"
"Not in the least," Remy said, flashing a smile. "He likes to manipulate people. You… aren't like that, are you?"
"No," Megan said quietly.
"Didn't think so." Remy smirked, leaning back from the bar. "You're too timid to be like him."
Indignation flashed beneath the sadness in Megan's eyes. Her mouth opened slightly, as if she wanted to protest, but she simply clenched her jaw shut and watched as Remy laid a handful of bills onto the bar and slid from her chair languidly, shaking dark hair out of her face.
"Good night, Megan," Remy said lowly. Her voice dropped in timber, gaining a husky quality that had more than once coaxed a stranger into her bed. She felt a stab of victory underneath her intoxication as curiosity replaced the indignation in Megan's eyes, sliding into her coat and wrapping her scarf around her neck slowly. With a final nod, she slid the strap of her bag over her shoulder and stepped away from the bar, walking slowly towards the door in an attempt to keep from tottering on the heels she wore. Through the haze of five scotch whiskeys, she noted that the bar was empty except for her and Megan and the other bartender. It was later than she thought.
Outside, in the sobering cold and flickering light from a street lamp, she paused, a wave of dizziness forcing her to stumble to a bench. The cold from the frozen wood seeped through her coat and her slacks, chilling her legs. She took deep breaths, inhaling the refreshingly cold hair greedily as it slowly forced a measure of sobriety into her brain.
As the dizzy spell passed, she slumped back against the bench tiredly, thanking whatever god was listening that it was a Friday night and she could actually sleep in the next day. A sigh slipped past her lips, breath crystallizing in the air in front of her briefly.
"Do you need a ride?" A voice floated down from above her. Soft, hesitant, familiar. Remy sleepily craned her head around, taking in the sight of Megan standing uncomfortably beside her bench, arms crossed tightly across her chest to ward off the cold air. She stared momentarily, wondering how long she'd been out there.
"Remy?" Megan's voice pulled her out of her wonderings. "You okay?"
"Yeah." Remy heard her voice say, fuzzy through her exhaustion.
"Do you need a ride home?"
"No," Remy said slowly, pushing herself to her feet. "It's only a few blocks. I walked."
"It's freezing out here," Megan said. "Come on, I'll give you a ride."
"Okay," Remy mumbled, wondering when she'd hit the wall of exhaustion, to the point where her pride took a backseat to her need for sleep. "Thanks."
"Sure," Megan said. She put a hand on Remy's elbow, steadying her. "Come on, my car's across the street."
Remy followed her across the deserted street, enjoying the pleasantly numb feeling in her hands and feet from the cold as she wondered at the fact that she could feel Megan's hand even through her heavy coat, suit jacket, and shirt sleeve.
In Megan's car, she slumped tiredly back against the headrest, eyes slipping shut once more. Music floated out of the speakers as Megan started the car, and Remy smiled as she recognized the voice carrying over the music. Her fingers, resting against her frozen thigh, twitched along with the song of their own accord as she started to drift off to sleep again.
She awoke to someone shaking her gently. "Remy," Megan was saying hesitantly.
Remy woke slowly, eyes half lidded as she looked up at the redhead in momentary confusion. "Hi," she said, voice husky with sleep. "We there?"
"Well…we're at my place," Megan said, ducking her eyes slightly. "You passed out as soon as you sat down, and refused to wake up and tell me where your apartment was. So…I figured you could just crash here tonight."
"Oh," Remy said slowly. She unbuckled her seatbelt and stood from her seat in the car uncertainly. "I'm sorry….you really don't have to—"
"It's fine," Megan said, more certainty in her voice than Remy had grown accustomed to.
Remy took a deep breath. This was far from how she'd wanted things to play out, even in her current intoxication—which was apparently far greater than she'd initially thought. "Thanks," she said again. "Shall we, then?"
"Sure," Megan said, her usual small smile appearing. "Come on." She led Remy into the building in front of them and into the elevator, where they stood awkwardly on the ride up to the sixth floor.
Megan's apartment was much like Remy's own, with the same open and airy feel to it, oak floors and whitewashed stone walls instead of cherry and brick. "Nice place," Remy commented, shortly before she stumbled on the step down into the living room area. Megan caught her, an arm around her waist to steady her before she fell.
"Thanks, "Megan said. "Let's get you to bed."
"Okay," Remy mumbled, leaning onto Megan as she was led into the bedroom.
"Do you do this regularly?" she asked once she was sitting on the edge of the bed. "Y'know, the whole good Samaritan bringing home strays thing?"
"Not really," Megan said. She unwound her own scarf and took off her jacket, tossing them over a chair in the corner. "But you're a regular, y'know? And I have to say, you really don't seem like the ax murderer type."
"Not so much," Remy said with a smile, leaning back on her hands. "Violence takes a lot of effort."
"Imagine that," Megan said dryly. She stood in front of Remy, hands in the pockets of her jeans. "Do you want something to sleep in?"
"Sure," Remy said. She shrugged out of her coat and suit jacket, letting them fall on the bed behind her. Hooking her thumbs in her trademark suspenders, she slid them off her shoulders, sighing without meaning to at the slight relief in pressure in her shoulders.
"Suspenders?" Megan appeared in front of her again, some clothes in her hands. Her eyebrows were raised inquisitively. "Unexpected."
"I'm full of surprises," Remy said flirtatiously, standing up closer to Megan than she really needed to be.
"I'm getting that," Megan said, her voice more hesitant than usual. A delicate flush was spreading under her freckles at Remy's proximity. "Here's something to sleep in. I'm going to crash on the couch, so make yourself comfortable, yeah?" She pushed the clothes into Remy's hands, ducking her head and starting to back away.
Remy tossed the clothes on the bed behind her hastily and grabbed Megan's wrist, pulling her back and moving her free hand up to Megan's neck as she stepped in and kissed her abruptly.
Megan pulled away after only a few seconds, a shocked look on her face. "Whoa, wait, Remy," she breathed out, the flush deepening to a full on blush. "I mean, I'm flattered, but I'm not—"
Remy cut her off with another kiss, a gentle press of her lips to the redhead's, one hand at her waist with the fingertips of the other sliding slowly up her neck, along her jaw. She broke the kiss shortly after Megan started to return it, foreheads resting together, eyes half shut still.
"Sorry," she breathed out. "But I really needed to do that."
"Oh," Megan squeaked. "Okay?"
Remy took a deep breath and stepped back, her hands sliding from Megan slowly. The other woman's eyes opened slowly, overly bright against her pale face. "Why?" she asked eventually.
Remy shrugged noncommittally, turning to pick up the clothes she'd dropped on the bed. "Because," she said quietly, clutching the sweatpants and t-shirt tightly as she strode across the room to the bathroom door. She paused in the doorway, not looking back. "You're the only person who looks sadder than I feel."
Without looking back to gauge Megan's reaction, she closed the bathroom door behind her. The bedroom was empty, the door shut, when she emerged.
That was the second.