Matthew grimaced as the whiskey burned the back of his throat. The empty glass his the bar top a little harder than he intended and he rubbed his hand over his face, tired and worn down from the days events.

Lucien's words stung and touched insecurities that he kept buried, away from the surface.

I accomplish more drunk than you and your entire bloody department do sober!

He waved down the bartender and ordered another whiskey–perhaps not a good idea, all things considered in the current Ballarat social climate, but to blazes with it. A whiskey was exactly what was needed at the end of today.

And then, as if he had summoned her through sheer will, Alice was there, sliding into the barstool beside him, scooting closer and dropping a kiss on his cheek. "Fancy meeting you here." Her grin was infectious and he found himself smiling back at her, those old insecurities receding again.

It was hard to think you weren't good enough when Alice Harvey looked at you like that.

She ordered a wine and sat back, looking at him, waiting. It was another thing he appreciated about Alice–she didn't push, didn't pry; just waited for him. He took another sip of his whiskey, mulling over his words. "Do you ever feel as if we're just side characters–supporting characters–in Lucien's life? This is just his drama and we just happen to be there?"

Now that the words were out of him, he seemed to deflate, slumped forward, playing with his whiskey tumbler. It felt melodramatic to say–even if it was how he felt.

Alice's hand covered his, cool to the touch, and she squeezed gently before nudging at him, flipping his hand over so she could trace random designs on his open palm. It was such a simple, almost adolescent gesture–something for young teens in love, not middle aged disasters in a fledgling relationship.

She peered up at him, almost shy. "I don't think you're a supporting character at all, at least, not in my story." Uncharacteristically bold, she lifted his hand to her lips, pressing a kiss to the center of his palm. "You've got a starring role."

Such a simple reassurance–he was a starring role in her life. It implied importance and permanence and significance. No matter how bloody brilliant Lucien Blake was, he didn't have a starring role in Alice's life.

It settled something distressing inside of him and her touch on his skin warmed him quicker than the whiskey–and she'd only been here a few minutes. She was truly amazing.

He leaned forward, lips brushing hers lightly, not caring who may see. Pulling away, he sighs happily, relaxed. "I'm glad I've got such a prominent role. You know," he drops his voice to a whisper, almost conspiratorially. "You've got a bit of a starring role in my life, too."

She raises an eyebrow, "Oh, I do?" There's a playful glint in her eye and he's giddy with the realization, the words bubbling up and ready to fall off his tongue.

He hums in agreement, nodding, "Oh, yes. Some would call you a, uh, a love interest."

The playful glint in her eye is gone and she's serious now, her hands tightening on his. "Matthew…"

His palm is cradling her cheek, thumb moving back and forth over her cheekbone. "I love you, Alice. It's okay if you don't feel the same way, but I just wanted you to kn–"

And then her lips are on his, frantic and passionate. His hands cradle her face, holding her to him. He sucks at her bottom lip and suddenly kissing her is so much more now that she knows he loves her. It's fire and heat and passion and he feels it sparking at his nerve endings like electricity.

There's a throat being cleared and they pul away, muttering apologies to the bartender. They had forgotten they were in public. Alice stares at him, eyes sparkling and her mouth twitching upwards into a smile.

"I love you, too, Matthew." She stutters over the words as if she hasn't said them in a while and he promises himself to never let her go, to never let those words go unsaid.

They are each other's happy ending.