Sorry it's taken me so long to update, I've had exams lately, but I'm back now. :) Hope you enjoy this.

Epigraphs from Hard to Beat by Hard-Fi, 22 by Lily Allen

"I've seen you, darling, seen you hanging round town. You, in a short skirt, shining eyes of deep brown."

"Shit! Shit, shit, fucking SHIT!"

Gabriel blinked and shot up in a flurry of blankets and leather.

"What is it? Annie? Are you okay?"

A vaguely female looking figure ran out of the bathroom, screaming curses to high heaven. It seemed to be Annie. Gabriel kicked the blankets off himself and stared at her, running a hand through his hair. She was dressed in a black knee length dress, hair everywhere, holding a stick of eyeliner in one hand and a pair of black heels in the other.

"An...nie?" he asked hesitantly, testing the waters.

"WHAT?" she hissed back, turning to a mirror in the living room, throwing her shoes on the floor. She tried to get into her shoes at the same time as putting on her eyeliner, leaving her looking like she'd been involved in a heavy handed fight. She growled and pulled a tissue out of a box, wiping the excess away. She fluffed her hair and tied it up in a sleek, high ponytail that fell all the way to her waist. She threw her flat irons onto the coffee table and Gabriel's eyes widened as he saw the straight, sharp locks of hair tied up. They seemed lethal.

"Annie, what's all the rush for?"

She stared at him as she turned.

"Work! I'm late for work! You didn't wake me up!"

Her high pitched yell made him flinch. She picked up a trench coat from the hook and pulled herself into it.

"You didn't tell me to wake you up," he pointed out timidly.

Her head swivelled from where her handbag was, her tone exasperated.

"It's half past nine, Gabriel! I was meant to be at work half an hour ago, and so were you! Don't act like you're unemployed!"

She turned her head back to her bag as she began throwing her phone and masses of notebooks into it.

A small silence followed. She paused and turned her body around to face him.

"You're not, are you?"
Gabriel flashed her a bright smile with his perfectly shining white teeth. He tilted his head to make himself look adorable, but it didn't work.

"Oh, my God. That's great. That's fucking great. So I'M meant to support the household?"

"The household? We're a household?"

His tone was surprised, his eyebrow raised.

She blinked and swallowed. She turned back to her handbag and set it on her shoulder.

"I meant to say house."

With that, she picked up her keys and walked out of the door, her heels clicking on the wooden floor outside. Gabriel blinked and ran a hand through his hair again.

Getting up from the couch, he pulled his jeans up and took off his jacket, trying to make sense of what she'd just said. Perhaps it was just a slip of the tongue. Whatever it was, she'd been quick to correct it, he thought, as he grabbed an apple from the bowl sitting on the counter. Shining it on his jeans, he took a bite of it and walked to the window, watching her running down the steps at the front of the block of flats, running down the road. She seemed incredibly adept at running in five inch heels, her hand raised as she tried to call a taxi. At half past nine, it didn't seem likely she'd get one. Despite her distress, she looked extremely beautiful. Gabriel furrowed his brow at his own thought.

Her eyes seemed even larger illuminated by her dark eyeliner, her lips red from biting in nervousness, not lipstick. He watched her attempt to wave down at least four cabs before sighing and looking down at her wrist. It was quarter to ten. Hot, pricking tears began to form in her eyes. It was her first day at work and she was almost an hour late. What was everyone going to think of her? Wasn't she in enough despair already? The tears began to fall and she sat down on the curb, not caring about the steady beige dust that was beginning to rub into her coat. Was there even any point in going to work if they were all going to stare at her when she turned up an hour and a half late?

"Annie? You need a lift?"

She bit her lip as she heard a deep voice from above her and twisted to look up at the fourth floor of the building. Gabriel hung out of it, taking a healthy chunk of apple into his mouth, smiling as he munched.

"How are you going to get me there?" she called up.

He pulled a bunch of his keys and tossed them to her. She caught them and marvelled as he made his way down. He pulled on his jacket and tossed the apple core in the nearby bin, motioning for her to get up. He led her to the side of the block of flats, where she saw a large, black motorbike chained to the wall. He stood it up and pulled it out in front of the steps. She stared at him and the contraption.

"Nuh uh. No way in hell, I can't ride on a motorbike."

He raised his eyebrow as he kicked himself over the saddle , sticking the key in the ignition.

"It's just the same as riding a horse, only you don't chafe," he considered, adjusting the dials.

She sighed and turned around, looking down the street for another cab. Gabriel felt like banging his head on the front of the bike. Why was she so stubborn? Did she have some sort of complex?

"Annabella, do you want to get to work?"

"Yes."

"Would you rather get there in five hours, by which time they'll all be down the pub , or in twenty minutes?"

She turned around, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"I don't like motorbikes."

"I don't like life. Deal with it," muttered Gabriel, kicking his feet up and driving it up to where she was, "Get on in front of me, I won't let you fall."

She pointed down to her legs.

"Dress. I can't ride like that."

"You're not riding side saddle, this isn't the eighteenth century, woman. Just pull your dress up and cover your legs with your coat. I'm not going to have my way with you this early in the morning."

His grin was devilish and somehow, Annie wasn't sure about that.

"Don't you have a helmet? You could get hurt," she pointed out.

He blinked.

"Now you're just making any excuse not to go. It's ten AM, which means you're officially an hour late. And no, I make a point of not crashing very often."

He patted the space on the seat in front of him and raised his eyebrows.

"Come on, tick tock."

She sighed and looked down, pulling her dress up to the tops of her thighs before swinging one leg over the seat and sitting down on it. She awkwardly tried to pull her dress down, but it wouldn't go any further. She pulled the coat across, but even that didn't cover much.

"Kinky," drawled Gabriel as he kicked the ignition and began speeding down the road. She blinked. She hadn't expected him to go this fast, and she wasn't used to riding on a motorbike. She felt unsteady, especially since he seemed to be navigating the head of the bike with one hand.

"Gabriel? Could you go slower, please?" she yelled over the rush of wind.

"No chance," he murmured in her ear.

She shivered. She hadn't realised he was this close behind her. Her head spun a little and she reached out to grip the dash of the bike, wanting something to hold onto. Her hand didn't quite reach the bars and she whimpered a little. He was going too fast, they were going to crash, she could feel it.

Hearing her whimper, Gabriel grasped her hand and set it on the bar, placing his on top, doing the same with her other hand. She shivered again. She was enclosed in his arms and suddenly, she didn't feel that unstable anymore. His hands were large and firm on hers, making sure he wouldn't let go. She sank back into his chest and relaxed a little more. He sensed it and smiled.

"See? It's not that bad. I won't kill you, I promise."

She laughed quietly as they sped on.

"Now, we're in Central London. Where is it you want to go?"

"Westminster, please."

"Yes, Ma'am."

She laughed again and it was only a few minutes before they parked up outside the Houses of Parliament. Gabriel looked at his watch as she got off.

"Quarter past ten. That's five minutes off. Yes!"

Annie laughed and grabbed her bag, slicking her hair back and fixing it over her shoulder.

"Thank you. I'll see you at half five, okay? Bye!"

She smiled and raised her hand, intending to wave him off as he drove, but he stayed stationary, staring at her.

"What? What is it?"

"You might want to pull your dress down, unless you want to go clubbing in Parliament."

She looked down at herself and squealed as she saw her dress riding up to the tops of her thighs. She straightened it and thanked him, before running inside, waving.

He laughed and checked his watch. Time for a spot of working out before lunch, he thought, turning the bike around from where he'd come, speeding down the road again.

"I see that look in her face, she's got that look in her eye. She's thinking, "How did I get here? I'm wondering why.""

"Sorry! Sorry, excuse me! Thank you! Sorry!"

A stream of excuses and apologies flooded from her mouth as she ran up the stairs. She looked down at the letter. Room 42B. Where the hell was Room 42B? She was beginning to doubt it even existed. She'd been running up and down stairs for ten minutes.

"Hello? Lady? You lost?"

She turned around, gasping for air, her heels killing her feet.

"Yes! Yes, I am. Do you know where Room 42B is?"

"You're standing right in front of it."

Annie stared at the porter and flipped around. A big, burnished wooden door stood imperially in front of her with a bright gold plaque reading, "Room 42B."

She closed her eyes and felt like crying again. Nothing seemed to be going to plan today. She said a quick thanks to the porter and knocked on the door, straightening her hair and dress.

"Come in," uttered a menacing voice from inside.

She didn't know why, but she felt like she was entering the secret lair of some James Bond villain. She half expected the man to be sitting on a swivelling chair stroking a Himalayan cat.

She pushed open the door and blanched. A huge table was right in front of her, and about twenty people sitting around it in impeccable suits, staring at her as if she was an alien. The man who had spoken to her spoke again.

"And your name is?"

She looked up, suddenly feeling incredibly self conscious. She smoothed her fringe back and swallowed, trying to ignore the stares and the uncomfortable feeling forming in the pit of her stomach.

"I'm...Annabella Spencer?" she asked, as if she had amnesia.

The man looked down at his list and sighed, smiling dryly.

"Nice of you to join us, Miss Spencer. Did you and your boyfriend oversleep?"

He motioned for her to find a seat and she turned bright red with fury and embarrassment. She found a spare seat between two girls and sat down.

"No, Sir."

"Really? Because you're about two hours late."

"Yes, Sir...I'm aware of that."

"Would you like to tell me the reason?"

She looked up at him, her eyes flashing with humiliation. He was going to humiliate her in front of everyone? Her face turned even redder and she bit her lip. She felt the stares of twenty pairs of eyes on her. Was it just her, or could she hear some snickers?

"I...I overslept, Sir," she whispered, looking down at her bag as she pulled out her notebook and pen.

"What was that? I didn't quite hear it, Miss Spencer."

She raised her head a second time. This man was evil.

"I overslept, Sir," she repeated in a clearer voice, closing her eyes.

"Thank you very much, Spencer. You can stop there."

Her face burned with anger and humiliation as she heard people gasp and giggle around the table. The man began to talk about the timetable for the day and she saw a few people had already begun to take notes. She wondered whether she should do the same. She looked to the girls either side of her. Their pencil skirts were sharply tailored and their lacquered nails tapped on the table as the man spoke. She bit her lip and looked down at her unpainted, but clean nails. She pulled her dress over her knees. It was just a simple work dress. She could see the layers of spray and powder foundation flawlessly sitting on their skin and bright red lipstick jumping out at her. All of a sudden, she felt untidy and stupid. Her long, sleek ponytail didn't seem straight enough. Her lips didn't seem red enough, her nails weren't perfect enough. She wasn't perfect enough.

As they got up and filed out of the room to their separate offices, she looked out of the window at the bustling city, the red buses moving up and down, the river flowing, the people walking hurriedly around the streets. She sighed as she dragged her feet. She wasn't used to everything being so fast. She was a country girl. Perhaps she wasn't cut out for the big city just yet.

"Annabel Spencer, cubicle number ninety three," announced another weedy looking man in a disturbingly monotonous voice.

"It's Annabella," she murmured as she slipped past him into her cubicle.

He didn't answer as he ticked off her name, walking away down to the next cubicle. She sighed and looked around. It was a medium sized generic cubicle, a white desk, a computer and a keyboard, a swivelling chair and a wide window embracing one side of the stone wall. A plaque bearing the correct spelling of her name braced the outside of the cubicle and she threw her bag down, looking at the list of things that were on the agenda for today. Research for a policy proposal on changes in budget control in the health service. She sighed. She could do this. She could do this.

She pulled her laptop out of her bag and set it on the desk, switching it on. She couldn't let the defeatist feeling overtake her so early in the day so she got up and looked out of the window again, aiming to look up at the sky this time, instead of the ground.

She liked the sky, it was so bright with the clouds stretching lazily over it. It looked so free, but she couldn't help looking down once more at the city below the tower she was currently locked in. Somewhere down there, there was Gabriel.

"Gabriel?"

"Yep?"

"Can you come and pick me up again? I think the cabs have some sort of aversion to me. I don't know why, I did shower this morning," sighed Annie at the other end of the line.

Gabriel laughed and got up from the bar, setting his glass down. She heard a clink and her eyes narrowed.

"Have you been drinking?"

"Just a pint of Guinness," he replied, pulling his jacket on. He heard a gasp at the other end.

"A pint? A whole pint? And now you're going to get on a motorbike and drive across London! You'll kill yourself! That's like...SIX UNITS!"

Gabriel sighed and held the phone away from his ear as he walked out of the bar, plucking his keys from his pocket.

"Actually, one pint is two units. Four units hits the drink drive limit," he murmured, kicking himself over the seat. She was stumped.

"Oh...okay. Well, still. Be careful."

"Oh, always."

He smiled and shoved his phone back into his pocket. It wasn't long before he reached Westminster and caught sight of Annie leaning against the stone with her bag in her hand and her coat draped over her arm. He smiled and drove up next to her, shuffling forward in his seat.

"I think you're enough of an old hand to ride in back now."

She sighed and rubbed her forehead before walking towards him.

"Hello, Gabriel," she murmured, tossing her bag and coat in the back of the bike.

"You okay?"

She didn't reply and Gabriel took a moment to look her up and down. That was when he realised she looked an absolute state. She'd undone her hair and obviously ran her hands through it one too many times, it was messed and tangled, her dress bore a tea stain on the side and it was rumpled. She limped towards him, her feet obviously aching from her ridiculously high heels. He wondered whether it was a bad time to relay advice about appropriate footwear.

She hooked a leg over the seat, wrapped her arms around Gabriel's stomach, and rested her cheek against his back, closing her eyes. He stayed silent and turned the bike around, driving back home.

"Annie? Annie, are you awake?"

"Yes," came a dull voice from behind him.

"We're home, honey," he murmured, turning his head.

She sighed and got up off the bike, picking her bag and coat up. Gabriel waited until they got inside to ask what the matter was.

"Tough day at work?"

She said nothing and walked into her bedroom, walking back out in a pair of jersey shorts and an oversized jumper. She walked into the kitchen and made herself a quick mug of tea, throwing herself down on the sofa. She picked up the remote control, fully intending to watch some crappy TV, then she realised that the TV hadn't been plugged in yet.

"Shall I deal with the wires at the back?" asked Gabriel tentatively.

"No, it's okay, just leave it. I've got a headache anyway," she murmured, lying down on the sofa and resting her back against the armrest. She tucked her hands into her sleeves and grasped the mug with the fabric of her jumper, her messed hair obscuring her face. Her feet were clad in satin pumps, the red lines across the tops indicating where the straps of her heels had cut into them.

"Annie? Annie, did you have a bad day at work?"

"You could call it that."

"Why, what happened?"

Gabriel kicked himself back over the sofa in much the same way as her as she sipped her tea.

"I got in two hours late, got publicly humiliated by the area manager, got shown to my disgusting little cubicle, had to research some policy that I don't really give a shit about, and..." she trailed off, closing her eyes, hugging her mug to her chest.

"And what?" asked Gabriel, narrowing his eyes.

"I just don't fit in, Gabriel. All those girls with their lacquered and manicured nails and sprayed hair and perfect make up and stupidly high heels. I mean, how do you walk in those for a whole day anyway? It's work, not some party where you just stand at the side for an hour."

Gabriel smiled sadly at her. Her eyes were evidently puffy and red from crying in her bedroom.

"You'll fit in slowly, it'll just take time."

"I don't have time. I need to fit in now, I need to get the work done. They pay you on commission, how much of your work is up to standard for being used by the head of department. I can't do this...I just can't. I don't fit in, Gabriel."

She turned her head away towards the sofa and bit her lip, hot tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She knew it was silly to cry over something like this, but she felt like she was entitled to it. Gabriel got up and left the room. She felt like telling him what an arsehole he was, but she knew he thought she wanted to be left alone. She sat there for a few seconds and swallowed, sipping her tea and slowly calming down.

"Legs down, Miss Spencer."

She looked up from her cup of tea and wondered where the voice had come from. Her gaze lowered to see Gabriel kneeling at her feet dressed in a check shirt and a pair of tracksuit bottoms, holding a tub full of warm, soapy water.

"It's like a bubble bath for your feet. If you're going to wear those ridiculous heels again tomorrow, you'll need this."

She stared down at him.

"Well, come on, I don't have all day. I don't spend my time doing this."

He motioned for her to lower her legs and take off her shoes. She complied and smiled a little.

"So what do you spend your time doing?"

"Drinking. Smoking. Reading. Listening to music, going for walks, whatever," he murmured, lowering her feet down into the water.

She sighed and closed her eyes as she felt the hot water surround her feet. She wiggled her toes nervously. The ache was still there, but it'd go away soon.

"You know, you can be really high maintenance sometimes, but I don't mind."

She looked up in surprise. Did he really just say that? He grinned at her. She grabbed a pillow and threw it at his face, making them both laugh. It seemed like their friendship was well and truly under way.