Author: Aida

Rating: PG

Summary: A night out, a familiar scene, a different ending…

Author's note: A pointless piece of fic that just wouldn't let go. It forced me to write this,

and here is the by product of my far too obsessive mind. This is wholly original, at this point. If I'm bored enough, and if my muse decides to bite me in the ass, some other characters might be added as well. This is a very short one shot.

The Games We Play

He was watching her, she knew. The scene was stupidly familiar, with her leaning against the bar, a bottle of beer in one hand. So familiar, yet so very different. For one thing, she was actually dressed up, this time. Well, as dressed up as she could be. She was wearing snug black jeans with an olive green and a low cut halter top in some sinfully clingy material. A black duster offset the image, reaching halfway down her calves; black leather boots adorned her feet. A silver necklace hung just between her breasts, the pendant of an intricate dragon curled around a pentagram. A shorter, silver ankh lay above it, adorned with a green stone. A plain piece of leather acted as a choker, a single piece of stone on it. Tiger's Eye.

 Her hair tied back in a messy bun, stray tendrils framing her face. Silver earrings of some Celtic design on her ears, a claddaugh ring on the fourth finger of her left hand. A gothic-y ring with a turquoise stone resided on her thumb. A bracelet made up of black beads around her left wrist along with a silver bracelet studded with diamonds. The only thing that seemed to so out of place about her whole image was the watch on her right wrist: it had orange plastic straps.

He finally approached her and she had to smirk. 20 minutes. He'd lasted longer to watch her, this time. And this time she wasn't with her sister.

"I seem to be short of a dance partner." He said the same line he did the last time they met. She tipped her head back and looked at him from under hooded eyes.

"That's sad, isn't it?" she drawled. He looked slightly taken aback. Subtlety not the key, then?

"Would you like to dance?"

My, persistent fellow. She grinned. Just like she remembered.

"I don't dance."

Maybe this seemed surreal to him as well. Except she no longer blushed and hid behind quietness. She now thrived in enigma.

"Why don't you? You looked bored."

"I'm watching. And waiting."

Finally. A change from the script. He smiled slightly and leaned against the bar, angling his body towards her.

"Watching and waiting for….?"

"A friend. At the moment."

"A friend?"

"Are we playing 20 questions?" A small smile curved her lips slightly. He had the grace to look sheepish.

"I'm…intruding?"

"Not at all," she said easily. "Merely contemplation. You're jumpy, Craig."

"How did you-"

"Know your name?" At his nod, she smiled again. "This exchange happened once before, years ago. I have a memory of these things."

"I see."

"Do you?"

She had finished her beer. He noticed and called the bartender. Again, as coincidences occurred, it was the same as before.

"Another drink for the lady."

She snorted. "Hardly a lady. But I understand your meaning. A margarita," this was said to the barman. "One of your orgasmic ones."

"Those are few and far between."

"Have I come at the right moment?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. He grinned at her and leaned forward.

"You have."

She grinned back. "I'll count myself lucky. Two, please. And a martini for the gentleman."

"A martini?" Craig's eyebrow rose.

"Humour me."

The music was loud and pulsing. Craig wasn't even paying attention. However, several females were.

"Your bad luck with dance partners has ended."

"You'll dance with me, then?"

A half smile.

"Your harem returns. Do be careful. The blonde looks rabid."

Craig was surprised into laughter. Another half smile. She looked at him. Blond, lean and slim hipped. Brown eyes. Attractive in a very smooth way. Too bad she wasn't interested anymore. But they were always fun to play with, weren't they?

Some instinct made her turn towards the door and what she saw there made a soft smile grace her lips. Her eyes had gentled and Craig turned as well, wondering what wrought the change in her. He looked. Turned back to her. Looked again. He sighed. Watching and waiting indeed.

"You're late," she reprimanded, but her smile belied her words. The figure shrugged apologetically, rain dotting dark hair, a smile crinkling the corners of grey eyes. A chiselled mouth curved in a wry grin.

"The rain's horrendous. Is that a margarita?"

"Yes. You're lucky, we've got the best drinks in the house," she confided. He grinned and leaned down to kiss her, so very softly.

"I'll be thankful, then."

Right, that was the ending.

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