"Let's play a game."

"Huh?"

"I said, let's play a game!"

I let out a long, exasperated sigh. This night had already lasted two thousand years, and now he wanted to play a game? I slammed my head back against the wall, shutting my eyes and rubbing my temples.

"What kind of game?" I asked, irritated.

He wiggled his eyebrows at me. "Well, I can think of plenty of games I could play with a beautiful lady like you." Just before I went to slap him, he quickly added, "but I have an even better idea tonight!"

"What could be better than Cross games?" I asked sarcastically.

He smirked. "The 'You Owe me a Bottle' game."

"The what?"

"You heard me. The 'You Owe me a Bo-'"

"I know, but what does that mean?" I felt like laughing at the absurdity of what he was saying.

He leaned against the wall next to me, seeming even more entertained than before. "I ask about something I've done, like, 'have you gone skiing?' and if you haven't, you owe me a bottle of wine. Then you ask me something, and so it goes."

"That's crazy," I snapped. "We don't have a thing in common. We'll be in deep debt to each other by the time we're done."

"Dept, women, and alcohol are what my life is about. This great game sums it all up into one."

I cringed. "What about cigarettes, then?"

"I'm trying to quit," then, muttered, "sort of."

I rolled my eyes again. This seemed like absolute lunacy, but I had nothing better to do and who knows, I might actually get a laugh out of it. Maybe. "Fine. You start."

"Okay. Have you ever been drunk out of your mind?"

I groaned. "I should have known your questions would be stupid. I'll go, and show you what a real question is like."

He smiled. "Oh, but if you're avoiding the question, then obviously you have been, but you just don't want to admit it!"

"Have you ever owned a pet?" I asked, cutting him off.

He stopped shouting, but his smile didn't waver. "Does Allen count?"

"You're an ass."

"A hot ass."

"A tight ass."

"A hot, tight ass-"

"It's your turn!"

"Have you ever checked out my ass?"

"What the-? Cross, are you trying to say that you've checked yourself out before?" I laughed in disbelief.

"No, I was just wondering."

"Back to the game!" I cried, even though I knew the next question probably wouldn't be much better.

"Ever been kissed?"

I shrugged, tilting my face away from his. "Sure, I have."

"By someone you loved?"

"That's two questions," I reminded him. "My turn, now."

While I thought of a question, he said, "You're avoiding the question again."

"Have you ever done something you've regretted?" I asked, my tone more serious than I had intended.

"Nope." I groaned, leaning even further away from him. I had almost believed him before had said, "Of course I have."

"So even you regret things?" I wondered aloud, a little taken aback.

"Sure, I regret plenty of things." He glanced off into the distance. "You don't lead a life like mine without regrets."

"Might I ask what one of them would be?"

"Nope."

I crossed my arms. "Then don't expect an answer from me."

He scratched his head, switching back to his carefree self almost immediately. "This is terrible. We don't owe each other anything yet. I'm going to have to be hard this time around." He smirked. "Which should be easy for me."

"I'm sure of that."

He leaned forward, his cheek nearly touching mine and his lips hovering at the corner of mine, still pulled into a tight smirk. "Ever slept with someone?"

I grabbed his shoulders, pushing him back into his place. "It's bad enough you're asking that without acting the question out!"

He gripped my hands, holding them against his shoulders. "Well?"

I pursed my lips. I wasn't going to answer such an immature question. I should have known better than to play this game in the first place.

His smile broadened. "You owe me a bottle," he told me, pushing my hands off of his shoulder and back by my sides. He kept his hands on mine, though, and began to move himself towards me, closing the distance in-between us before his lips were once again only inches away from mine, ready to lock with them any moment if I didn't do something quickly. I wanted to stop him, but then I was suddenly on my back, and all my thoughts popped like balloons and I couldn't concentrate, and all I could see was his long, red hair and all I could hear was the pounding of our hearts, beating against each other, and all I could feel was Cross' hands on mine, and his weight on mine, then it was his lips against mine, finally, he had actually kissed me, just what I had been expecting this entire time, and his hands were in my hair and mine were in his, weaving through his long, red locks, tightening my arms around his neck as he continued to kiss me, and I forgot how to breath, I forgot why to breath, I forgot everything, including myself…

And then it was over. Cross pulled himself away from me, pushing himself roughly to the other side of the room, sitting as far from me as possible. It took me a moment to regain myself and to realize what had just happened. I slowly sat up, brushing my untidy hair down and straightening out my wrinkled clothing. I breathed in and out, trying to steady my heartbeat, and stared at him, trying to remember what had happened. Then it all hit me again, and all my common sense came rushing back over me as I remembered and I felt slightly sick, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to scream at him and hit him or laugh and kiss him again.

In the end, I did neither. I just sat still, watching him as he stared out the bars of the cell, motionless, his face in a tight frown. For a moment I wondered if I had imagined the entire thing; this wasn't the last way I expected Cross to act after kissing me. Was I that bad of a kisser?

He finally turned back to me, his face dry of humor. I just sat in silence, waiting for him to explain his mood swings.

He took a deep breath, and then muttered, "Sorry." My eyes widened a bit, and I was once again taken off guard. What was it with this man? Was there anything about him that was consistent? One second he's smiling, the next he's kissing, then he's moping? How was I expected to be able to follow his train of thought if it moved in zigzags? "We can stop playing the game now. It was a bad idea anyway," he continued, standing up and gazing out the bars. He kept his back towards me, but I didn't complain. I needed a minute to calm down.

Because, even though I hated to even think it, I wouldn't have really minded to finish the game.

Author's Notes: Sorry that took FOREVER for me to write. I lacked motivation for a while there, but now, here it is! I hope you liked it! Please review and let me know just what you thought!

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