AU post 2x01 Waige end scene.
Chapter One: Oh Boy Was Right
The words continued to swirl through his mind, on repeat, like a broken record, searing his brain tissue with their implication, driving him to madness, a broken record that he didn't want to repair.
"Well, I, sort of ...kissed you."
It was haunting his every thought. He couldn't stop replaying her words, and the video he had illegally obtained, over and over in his mind, as though he could will himself to be conscious of its memory and bring it to life. It was like an F5 tornado swirling around and his ability to reason was being sucked right into its funnel like an unsuspecting cow.
Moo.
As everyone left for the day, he was intensely aware of her, sitting at her desk, absorbed in her work. After all they had been through throughout the day, after everything they had said throughout the day, she was still as devoted to her work as ever. She had held him together in his moments of weakness, supported him, saved his life.
She had refused to leave him behind.
She truly was extraordinary.
Perhaps it wasn't a cow he was, but rather a sheep, since when it came to her, he was a coward and sheepish.
Idiot.
And she was the 18-wheeler being thrown at 200 miles per hour straight at him, and he had no idea how to avoid a fiery collision.
He was still learning about his EQ, how to operate in a world so different from him, he was still learning her, and how she could be so different and yet connect to him on such a profound level. But he had learned enough to notice the way her face formed a solemn, frustrated expression, even if she was attempting to be subtle. He would know that face after all, he was usually on the receiving end of her frustrated expressions.
"You're perturbed?" He asked, hoping to draw some conversation out of her, keeping her close, while still keeping her at arms length considering the taxing conversations they had already shared today, and their agreement to be strictly professional colleagues. He wasn't sure if he could keep up his resolve with her should the conversation of their feelings come up again in such a short time.
"My new business plan for Scorpion, wondering if it will ever work." He breathed a sigh of relief, until he observed how her voice sounded defeated, hopeless - which he recognized was something he would not have picked up on just a year prior. He would have nodded and headed on his way.
He was changing.
She was changing him.
"Well, your plan is just a theory. Its basis and assumptions need to be tested to prove its validity." He had no idea what he was doing. He didn't even know what he was hoping to achieve by spouting on about scientific theory. His version of small talk he presumed. "Like the microwave EMP. That was just a theoretical solution, until we tested it." She wasn't really looking much toward him. Distracted. Unenthused. Disinterested in hearing more from him today. He couldn't be certain. Normally, this is when he'd say goodnight, excuse himself, call it a day, convincing himself she wanted to be left alone, but tonight, he saw something in her eyes, felt something in the way she was carrying herself that told him to stay. And as sure as eggs are eggs, he was sure he really, really, wanted to talk to her more.
"I guess." Her face of disappointment, and hopelessness was causing feelings in him that were unfamiliar, and he couldn't help but want to crack open the Pandora's box that was Paige Dineen, and solve all of its mysteries, regardless of what else came out of the box with them.
Here it goes. Without a doubt, he was not in control of his brain's motor cortex, as his speech was definitely not his own doing.
"...or like you and me." She froze. She turned. She made eye contact. He could get lost in those eyes of chestnut brown, seas that carried many an explorer into her soul. He has gotten lost in them. "We assumed that our perplexing feelings will interfere with Scorpion, so our theory dictates that we avoid anything unprofessional." He wasn't sure why his words sounded so squeaky, but surmised it had something to do with the lack of confidence he had in them. How he wished he believed his own words, but Walter O'Brien, man of many things, was no fool. He knew how full of it he sounded, and by the look on her face, he knew she knew it too.
"Right." And was that, pain? Pain on her face?
No, it couldn't be. Could it?
"Right." He had to force a smile, an awkward, pained smile as he repeated her sentiment, just to hide his own pain and disappointment in himself for being such a coward. Megan once mocked him for that smile after seeing an interaction between him and Paige, and how unnatural he looked, and how even someone with an IQ of 197 and no EQ could see how fake it was. He had argued with her, dismissed her, told her she was seeing things, mere figments of her overactive imagination. Like most times, Megan had been right. Not that he would admit that to her.
Lost in that thought, he was shocked to see, and more importantly, feel Paige stand up. Standing so very, very, close to him. Since when did Walter O'Brien not flee from such an invasion of personal space? And why was his body aching to move even closer?
This was wrong.
Every hair on his arms and neck were standing in attention, every nerve ending pulsating at her proximity and the hopefulness displayed upon her features. He swallowed. Hard.
"Except, you know, we never really tested our assumption." That felt so open ended, and even suggestive. Were his hands shaking? Why all of a sudden did his throat feel dry? And why, why oh why was it becoming so difficult to think? And breathe.
This was definitely wrong.
He needed to stop this.
"You mean the one our theory is based on, that we couldn't work together if we acted on our attraction?" He had read an article once about the way predator animals looked at their prey, sizing them up, anticipating their every movement, and he imagined the way she was staring at him in that moment was very similar, so much so that she could easily be featured in one of those nature documentaries narrated by David Attenborough.
Was she closer?
Had he moved closer?
They definitely felt closer.
He was losing all sense of space. Had her eyes always been that hypnotic? He must be suffering from further effects of the hypoxia from the balloon altitude. Perhaps another dizzy spell from his brain injury.
Surely, this was not happening.
This was wrong.
And who was moving closer?
He was no expert, but he was fairly certain she was looking at his lips. He had read something else about that, something very inappropriate, which he would deny he had done if ever asked, but he was fairly certain he understood what that meant - hell, he was fairly certain he knew what that meant even without the research.
Her newly darkened hair looked so beautiful the way it was framing her face, no longer having bangs hiding her face from him, loose waves giving it a voluminous luxury that intrigued him.
He thought briefly what it would feel like to run his hands through it. He thought it would be silky against his fingers, like an asian kimono, or the highest quality cashmere.Soft, silky, light.
He wondered what her lips would taste like - what they had tasted like when she had kissed him. He internally kicked himself, again, for not having been conscious for that.Once, they had been so close he thought he could smell cherries on her lips. He had wanted to kiss her then, see if he was right. He wondered if she had tasted of cherries in that hospital room.
Damn morphine.
He wondered what it would be like to have her so close to him that he himself would smell of her lavender when they parted. Toby had been right about his lavender diffuser. It comforted him to have some essence of her around.It wasn't the same, but it was something.
And, despite his aversion toward physical contact, he wondered what it would feel like to have her be closer, so close in fact that they were pressed together. To feel her heartbeat through his own chest.To feel the rise and fall of her breath. To have their body heat intermingle, causing a natural heat transference.
No.
This was wrong.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
He couldn't fight it anymore. Couldn't fight himself. Paige Dineen was his siren and he was a pirate without a chance sailing uncharted seas, and she was claiming him as her next conquest. He could turn back. Of course he could. She was a mere inch away from him, so close he could feel her breath, could feel the warmth radiating off of her body, and could smell that subtle scent of lavender.
He could turn back.It would only take one small step back.
He could.
But, he wanted more of it. All of it.
He could turn back…
Logic, reason and intellect be damned. In that moment all he could think of were those words, on repeat "I sort of kissed you." Before he could let himself even consider turning back, stop himself, jealous of his own morphine loaded unconscious self, he was closing the distance between them and allowing himself a moment of true joy, desire and need.
He kissed Paige Dineen.
And she kissed him back.
Oh boy did she kiss him.
It was everything he had fantasized about and more, and he was not prepared to stop. It started off easy, testing the waters. But when she deepened it, and the last year of pent up tension came rising to the surface, his good hand instinctively went to her waist drawing her closer, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he was proud of himself for remembering her lesson on where to put his hands on her. He wanted to find other places she'd like his hands to be. He hated his right hand for the contraption it was locked in, unable to use it to lock her in even closer to him.
He could, on some faraway subconscious thought, tell that she was holding back at first. Remembering what Toby had said when he had kissed Sima while undercover, and how her hands were not in his hair, she hadn't been touching him, and so she wasn't really into it - was Paige not really into it?
When her hands found their hold around his neck, in his hair, tight, tugging, and the kiss became more passionate than anything he had ever experienced, he knew this was nothing like with Sima, or anyone else for that matter.
Paige was very into it.
He thought of how easily he could lose himself in her. Judging by her movements and intensity, he assumed she was getting lost in him as well. This was way better than Sima. The depths of losing himself in her, of which he wasn't sure he'd be able to pull himself from.
The pull that was Paige Dineen was not unlike an unsolvable equation, its own rabbit hole, like a black hole drawing him into its abyss, one he was scared to go through. There was an intensity in being with her, around her, touching her that scared him in ways he had never before felt fear.
He would give up everything, including his life, for her.
That was a terrifying thought.
Because, if he gave in to being with her, and lost her, he would truly lose it all. He immediately thought of her touching him while teaching him to flirt, then nearly blowing the mission because he was distracted by her voice in his ear, or of dancing with her, and again nearly blowing the mission because he wanted more time to hold her, or of holding her hand in the fire and how close he came to losing her, being so worried about her they nearly all lost their lives, how Toby had been right about it all, or of nearly being crushed to death by a falling helicopter to ensure she was safe. He thought of their fight the night she left, taking Ralph away from him and how he'd nearly died at the thought of it.
Paige Dineen was everything he wanted, but she also was, and would be, his undoing.
He thought of Paige, and how she deserved everything and more. Her kind and generous heart, the strength she carried emotionally and physically, how smart she was, how beautiful, how funny, how she was so devoted to Ralph, and was so loving to everyone she met. He thought of how she made everyone participate in every holiday, creating new traditions, ensuring everyone had new, and happy memories despite their upbringing. How she knew everyone's orders by heart, no matter which restaurant they ordered from. How she would fight anyone who tried to hassle her nerds. A fierce loyalty and pride in the Scorpion family.
And how he would never be able to match her on an emotional level, not even close to what she deserved.
Walter O'Brien was not worthy enough to hold the heart of Paige Dineen.
Like having been struck by lightning, or hit by the speeding 18-wheeler, he jolted back, breaking from her lips, her body, her pull.
He immediately regretted it.
He missed her warmth. His lips were tingling and tasted of her. He had been right about the cherries. His skin missed her touch. His hands longed to feel her again.
"Okay, yeah, good. We tested that theory." He tried to put as much physical space between them as he could. He didn't trust himself around her. He was right when he said she was destabilizing. Just not in the way he had said it.
"Honestly, I felt nothing. You?" No words could have hit him harder. He definitely felt it. And he was the one that didn't usually feel anything. Well, if she wasn't going to acknowledge feelings, neither would he. That's how it would need to be. It was for the best. She could move forward and find someone worthy of her…. And he…. He had his science.
"Same. I'm starting to think m-m-my attraction to you was based on the symmetry of your face, which is a vestigial affectation from cavemen. It meant that you were free from genetic malfunctions." Even he didn't know why he said that. It didn't sound any better in his head. He had just opened his mouth and let the world's dumbest analogy come rolling out like bowling balls. He internally kicked himself.
Beautiful, Walter. What you were trying to say was that she is beautiful. 197 IQ and you compared her to cavemen genetic defects. And why couldn't you look at her if it was nothing? What were you finding so important on the floor? And why were you fidgeting so much?
It didn't take Toby to know his voice was going up an octave as he spoke, and had Toby been there, he would have made a comment about needing a fire extinguisher to put out the fire on his pants.
Liar, liar.
"I guess the assumption of our intense chemistry was…off." Did she really think that? He paid particular attention to how she also seemed nervous, and her voice octave and speech speed were also deviating from her usual speech pattern. He'd never seen her use air quotes before that he could remember, and the passive aggressiveness in doing so was surprisingly not lost on him. Her eyes were occasionally meeting him, but not to stay, as if gauging his own reaction, and she was also fidgeting. Why was he suddenly so aware of things he simply would have ignored or never picked up on in the past? Perhaps she was also in need of a fire extinguisher. After all, he was the one that had pulled away, not her. Maybe she was protecting herself.
Or maybe she was nervous because she had just made out with her boss. Who backed away as though she had set his pants on fire.
He hoped, on some insecure, selfish level, it was the former.
She had looked sad on the balloon when he told her they couldn't be together. He ignored it, of course, but that didn't mean he didn't see it, feel it, and have it burn a scorching hole in his circulatory muscle.
"That could happen with any hypothesis." Was he laughing? Walter O'Brien had never, not once, in his life experienced nervous laughter before. This was beyond foreign, and he did not like it. Megan would have a field day with this entire exchange.
He was a man of truth, a man of facts, a man of control, and a man of intellect. And in the last one minute and thirty-nine seconds, Walter O'Brien, had lied his pants off, ignored facts, lost control and now, now he was laughing to cover up all of the above. He was in trouble. Big trouble.
That is why this was a bad idea.
Being with Paige could not be possible. He could not function.
"But just to be safe, we should probably…"
DO IT AGAIN.
"Oh yes, professional colleagues. See you tomorrow." He wasn't sure he had ever seen her move so hastily. Not when buildings were about to explode, or nuclear devices were about to go off, the room was on fire, not even when the school had called and told her Ralph was vomiting up blood - he had learned a trick using food coloring, but that was not relevant at the moment. She was racing to get out of the garage.
Speaking of vomiting, he felt like he could vomit right then and there from anxiety. Was this how Sylvester felt all the time? He would need to be more understanding, even apologize for not being more sensitive.
He didn't even hear himself mutter goodnight. He heard the garage door slam close, after watching her retreat from him, her shadow disappearing from view, accompanied by a similar slamming feeling in his chest. For a moment, he forgot how to walk. His legs felt weak, he needed to sit down. He couldn't even make it to his own desk, taking immediate refuge in Paige's abandoned chair. It still smelled like her. So did he. His lips still tasted of her. They still tingled from her touch.
This was wrong.
Walter O'Brien, 197, was reduced to nothing more than an "Oh boy" to recap the wildest experience of his entire existence. And he had experienced some pretty crazy things.
This was going to be harder than he thought.
Intellectually, he thought that by kissing her, getting it out of his system, it would free him of the temptation, the fantasy that plagued his every waking moment, and would allow him, and her, to move forward as friends and colleagues without this nonsensical matter of feelings clouding their judgments. On some level, he had hoped it would be terrible. However, he realized sitting there in her chair, basking in her scent, feeling the remnants of her lips on his own, what his single point of failure had been.
Her.
He was in love with Paige Dineen. With her.
He had forgotten to factor that very key quotient into his calculations.
He was an idiot.
As Happy would say, not good. Walter O'Brien was screwed.
Oh boy was right.