A one-shot, post Fold Equity. I'll update "You Are The Best Thing" this evening. Cause it's about 10h45 am in France and I have classes to attend to... ;)

"Breathe Me" is one of the most beautiful song ever, by Sia!

I don't own anything except for my incredible laziness.

And as usual, read & review (the ultimate remedy against laziness) ! =)

Breathe Me

He stumbled to his hotel room in the early morning, heavier of a few grams of alcohol in his blood as well as a couple of million dollars on the Lightman Group bank account. After several attempts, he managed to slide the electronic card into the lock. He walked into the room, his posture even worse off than usual. He stopped dead in his track and sobered up in a second.

On his bed, laid Gillian Foster.

She was slightly turned on her side, her legs bent at the knees. She had one hand flat on her stomach while the other rested next to her head. She was wearing the most gorgeous shiny black dress that fit her body so perfectly. A curl of her hair crossed her face. Her lips were pursed, the pout accentuated by the bright pink of her lipstick. Her high heels were kicked next to the bed. He realized that this was how she was dressed, earlier in the evening, when he had barely glanced at her, and he hated himself.

He walked to her and stopped to check the level of wine left in the bottle on the bedside table. It was almost empty, the glass next to it as well. He sat by her and brushed a finger along the side of her face.

His heart broke.

He had done this to her. He had crushed her.

"Why do you keep coming back to me, love?" he sighed and placed a lock of hair behind her ear.

A slight moan escaped her lips and her eyelids fluttered. He swallowed and felt his heart skip a beat. He didn't want her to wake up, didn't want to witness more of the pain he had inflicted her. He thought it would have been so much easier if she had just fought with him.

She finally opened her eyes, bleary and hazy from sleep, alcohol and probably tears. She had difficulty focusing on him and squinted. Once she was able to look at him clearly, she didn't move and just stared for a while.

He swallowed again and she flicked her gaze to his throat. She lifted her hand from her stomach and pointed it towards him. She bended her fingers a couple of times.

"Come to bed with me, Cal" she said, her voice low and husky.

He hated that the alcohol inhibited completely her self-consciousness. All her emotions were displayed for him to see. Her pain mostly, but also her disappointment, and still, always here, her deep affection. He was relieved not to see arousal at the moment. But was also surprised by the lack of anger on her face. He barely registered her hand dropping on the mattress.

He wondered whether anything he could do would make her run away from him. He started questioning his motives. Was he really trying to protect her, from him and all the evil he constantly brought into her world? Or was he just being selfish? Was it himself he wanted to protect from another heartache?

As if his heart was not aching right now.

He looked down at her when her hand grazed his chest. Her eyes were closed. She moved her hand again and hooked her fingers between the buttons of his shirt. She pulled him down to her.

"Okay" he whispered.

He kicked his shoes off and took off his jacket. She wriggled to get under the covers and he joined her. He just laid there awkwardly, not sure about what to do with himself. She answered the question for him as she scooted closer to him. She cuddled in his side and rested her head in the crook of his neck. She encircled his waist with her arm and tangled a leg with his. He looked at her sleepy face and traced random patterns on her shoulder before laying a hand on her hip. He felt the fabric of her dress.

"This doesn't look to comfy. You don't want to loose the dress?"

He regretted how the words came out the second they did.

"Forget it" she said, quite sharply considering her state of consciousness.

"Just put on a t-shirt of mine" he replied softly.

She groaned and slid a cold foot along his ankle.

"I'm wearing a thong, Cal. And even drunk, I'm still not as slutty as Poppy" she mumbled, her eyes still closed.

He tried not to think too much about her comment on her choice of lingerie but didn't miss the inflexion of her voice at the mention of the blond poker player. He tightened his hold on her and turned his head so that his lips brushed the top of her head.

"I'm sorry, love" he whispered against her hair.

He felt her breath against his neck and shivered. He heard her swallow heavily before she pressed herself even more against him.

"I hate that I love you, Cal" she breathed out.

His heart shattered into pieces at her words. He held her tight, never wanting to let go for fear she might actually leave. He swallowed the painful knot in his throat and blinked back tears.

" Me too. "