Chapter Six: Branded By Walter

Walter was learning that there were several types of intimacy with Paige. Sex being the obvious one. Vulnerability, as she took off her armor and let down her walls for only him to see the real her emotionally. And this, being in the shower with her, lathering her skin with soap, being sensual without being sexual, seeing her so raw and exposed.

She trusted him.

And he supposed, thinking about it, she was seeing him in those same moments, letting down his own walls and defenses, and was letting her in as well.

He trusted her.

The feel of kissing her as the water poured down over their heads was something he never experienced with anyone, but to experience it with Paige, was an incredible sensation. He wondered if this was why kissing in the rain seemed to be such a popular thing, and was such a staple in those romance movies he was always hearing about. Perhaps he still didn't fully understand it, but he knew for sure that he was enjoying it.

They finished up their shower, toweling off, sharing a moment to just hold each other's towel clad bodies in the steamy bathroom. The sink was shared as they each brushed their teeth - Paige thankful that she had had her toothbrush in her go bag. Walter took note of yet another image of Paige he assumed would only ever exist in his fantasies; Paige wrapped in a towel tucked in on itself at the side of her chest, wet and dripping tousled hair hanging unceremoniously past her shoulders causing water droplets to fall and trail down her skin, only to be absorbed by the cloth of the towel, or occasionally racing a trail beneath the surface - he wanted to see where they ended up. Then there was the very clear, red, raw indicators that Walter had enjoyed himself thoroughly plastered all over her upper body, and he assumed her lower body as well. His grin matched that of the Cheshire Cat, devious and filled with intrigue.

When she placed her toothbrush back into her bag, he knew it didn't go unnoticed when he ever so slyly removed it and placed it into the cup on the counter beside his. When she gave him a questioning look, he had just given her that boyish charm smile, and a shrug of his shoulder, muttering "it's efficient." She had let it go, with a smirk, but he knew that she knew it had nothing to do with efficiency and everything to do with wanting her there again. She bumped her shoulder into his, lovingly, resting her head on his shoulder as she laid eyes on his through the mirror, with a smile that said she was happy with his gesture. Standing there, with justa. towel wrapped around his waist, staring at her in the mirror, staring at them, together, in the mirror, was something he was finding difficult to process. The haze of the room from the steam was not helping. It was if he were trapped in a dream he didn't want to awake from.

They were really doing this.

They were a them.

The perfect way he could physically manifest that thought as reality was with that little cup on the counter. His blue toothbrush had a new red friend. Nothing in this world could make him happier.

As they moved about the bathroom, bedroom and kitchen, dressing, making coffee, cleaning up the bedroom and making the bed, very little was spoken. They didn't need words. His eyes remained locked on her through all her movements, studying her in this new light.

The way she fluffed his pillows as she placed them so neatly back on the bed was perplexing to his very black and white mind; he had never fluffed his pillows before.

How, without a word, she had helped him with his shirt, sensing the difficulty he was having with the offending device on his hand, and how she ran her hand down his chest once the buttons were finished in such a simple way, but that had held so much power over him, leaving him frozen in place for several moments.

How she poured the few remaining sips of water from each of their water bottles from the night before into the plant in the living room, before placing the empty bottles into the recycling can - so efficient and thoughtful. The plant had been a gift from a client, and he was fairly certain he had never once watered it, and since she clearly knew it was there, and it wasn't dead, he now questioned if she had been tending to it this whole time.

How she would glance up to find him staring at her and smile coyly at him - that smile she had given him at Christmas, the one that could light up a darkened city at night. No judgements for staring, no admonishments, just allowing him to be there in the moment, absorbing her from afar.

How she packed her bag with the discarded clothing he had removed from her body the night before., so carefully, folding each item even though he knew she would bring it home to wash. He would never call her out on it, but he also saw, as he was preparing the coffee pot to brew, and she didn't seem to think he was watching, how when she put her clothing into her bag, she also snuck his shirt. The shirt she had removed from his body, and he carefully watched on as she held it to her face, inhaling deeply, with a face of joy and bewilderment, before she hid it in her bag. She wanted to keep something of him, just as he had wanted her toothbrush to stay. The thought made everything seem even grander, and though he loved that shirt, he loved the look on her face even more.

The chuckle, and a muttered "sorry" that escaped his lips, as he took in the sight of her trying to persuade, unsuccessfully, her sleeveless, cream colored lower cut blouse to cover the obvious marks on her neck and collarbone - and her very unsuccessful attempt to keep a stern, scolding face, but ultimately smirking as she gave up on the blouse, calling it hopeless, and how the desk didnt matter when everyone saw she had clearly had "hot, dirty sex" last night. He was not accustomed to her speaking with such language and he found it oddly endearing, and sexy, and a little ego boosting.

He stood back and watched as she prepared him a cup of coffee, something she had done for him hundreds of times, as a friend and a colleague, but seeing her in his kitchen, barefoot, hair still damp, no makeup on, her skin branded by him, with her radiating a calmness that he had only ever dreamt of, he couldn't help the overwhelming feeling that hit him in the silence. It was new. It was enlightening. It was powerful, and perhaps even a little dangerous. Logically, it was simple domesticity he was witnessing, but emotionally it was so much more. He was musing just what that something more could be when she broke into his thoughts, the sight of her slipping her feet into her shoes by the counter, never letting go of the two coffee mugs she carried as she did. He would never be able to even put his shoes on standing up, nevermind while carrying things. Women were fanciful creatures that did not receive the credit they were due. Especially this woman. She was, in short, impressive.

With a warm smile, matching that of the warmth of the black liquid swirling in the mugs she carried, she handed him one, him delighting in the feel of her hands lingering on his for longer than they needed to.

"Thank you." He muttered, eyes fixed on hers. Even coffee seemed different to him now.

"So, I'll do the breakfast thing, and then we're just business as usual today, okay?" He wanted so much to focus on her words, but she was just so close to him and he wanted to feel her again. "Walter?"

"Hmm? Oh, uh, y-yes. Yup. Mhmm. Professional colleagues." She was amused, and it was definitely not helping him.

"And a date tonight? Just you… and …me?" She was getting closer and his brain was being pulled back into that black hole of no escape. He was the fourth smartest man in the world, could solve the unsolvable. But that look in her eye, he could barely Geneve his own name. The way her index finger ran seductively down his chest as she spoke of them sent shivers down his spine.

"Y-yes. Date. Ton-tonight. I will pick you up." His best stoic face was on, an effort that he was sure was still betraying him. It reminded him of when she tried to teach him to flirt, and she had left him standing there, thoughts reeling, with a failed attempt to mask his complete inability to function. He leant down to kiss her, hopeful that by kissing her, he'd have a moment to form a thought, though a he leant down he inwardly missed her being barefoot, she was much taller now. Their lips lingered in place, afraid to break the contact. "Until then, I will…see you at work."

"You have to act normal, Walter. Okay? Normal."

He was in trouble. He couldn't act normal even when things were normal.

"Yes, normal. Got it. Not a problem."

He did not get it.

It was a problem.

He was not normal.

He was screwed.

"Well, I should get out of here before suspicions arise. I think I may need to grab some concealer. You really did a number on me, Walter." More than anything, he didn't want her to go, but he knew she was right. However, the face she made as she tried to look down at her own shoulder, crinkled and twisted, amused him, and he felt the warmth and redness that came to his own cheeks as he remembered how he left those marks.

"I'm sorry. I didn't intend to maim you, or brand you, or cause you any discomfort." Gently he brushed his fingertips over the blazen area. It looked as though he had assaulted her with a blow torch, not his tongue. To say he felt bad about it was an understatement. Sure, he enjoyed every moment, and he was sure she had to, but it did not look enjoyable now. In fact, it looked angry. Red and angry.

She leaned up and kissed him reassuringly, tasting of toothpaste and coffee.

"Nothing a little makeup can't fix." She was dismissing his apology, and she half hugged him, their mugs interfering. She frequently would dodge his apologies as a means of ensuring he was not in trouble, he thought he had figured that out. As she pulled away, letting her hand feel from the nape of his neck to his ear, down the side of his neck, to slowly, one finger only drawing a path down to his chest. As she spoke she had fire in her eyes, and pulled away. "Besides, Walter, I don't know…I kinda like the sound of that. Branded by Walter." Her eyebrows wiggled suggestively and he could feel the desire building in him once again.

He stood, mouth agape, as he watched her disappear, grabbing her bag as she went.

Oh boy.

Today was sure to be…interesting.