I thought of this while navigating my pothole ridden dirt road today which is odd because this has nothing to do with potholes or navigation unless you want to craft a pretty poetical metaphor out of it but I don't feel like I'm that naturally creative while driving and cursing the road but maybe I underestimate my subconscious. (Also all of you lovely people posting and updating fics I will be reading/catching up with them soon and I greatly look forward to doing so.) And I am visiting a friend this weekend but Analogous should be updated fairly soon.

Rating on this is a strong T.

"Paige Dineen," she muttered, "and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day."

First, a traffic jam had caused her to be late dropping Ralph off at school. He'd already been late twice this quarter, which meant this third tardy would require him to attend detention. Paige felt terrible about it.

Then she'd gone to the dry cleaners to pick up the dress she'd worn to a charity event she'd attended with Sylvester, only to find out that she'd never actually dropped the dress off. She could have sworn that she did.

Then, she'd dropped her phone into a gutter, and by the time she'd fished it out, it wouldn't turn on. The time it would take to run home and put it in rice would be longer than the time it'd take to pick up some rice to stick it in at work, so she'd gone to the store to find that she'd left her credit cards at home. She had the cash to cover it, but by the time she got to the garage, she was stressed beyond belief and nearly in tears.

Walter approached her instantly. "What's wrong?"

She rested her head against his shoulder and sighed in relief as she felt his arms circle around her. "Just…everything."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She shrugged, lifting her head to look at him. "Maybe."

Walter nodded. "Okay. Just let me know when you've decided and I'm all ears if you do." He kissed her forehead and headed to his desk. "Cabe doesn't have a case for us today, but I was thinking if Sly and I were to…"

Paige turned on her heel and walked into the kitchen, resting her arms on the countertop and bowing her head as tears leaked from her eyes.

Tim would never walk away from her like that. Tim would know that maybe meant yes.

"Paige?"

She didn't look at him.

"Did I upset you?"

She turned. "Everything is going wrong today. I made Ralph late, I forgot an errand, I left my credit cards at home and my phone is probably ruined." We save the world on a weekly basis. "And I'm sure that you don't understand why all of those little things bother me so much, but they do, Walter. They do."

"I understand." Walter stepped toward her. "Two is a small number. But if you add two and two and two and two and two," he shrugged. "That's ten. That's a much larger number than two." He came and leaned on the counter next to her, tipping his head to better see her face. "I don't know what to say or do to make you feel better," he said. "Do you have any suggestions?"

God. Tim would never have to ask that. Tim would know exactly what gesture would be appropriate. Paige sighed. "I don't know."

She briefly wondered if she was being fair, to assume that Tim would know how to help when she didn't even know what she wanted. But somehow, she felt that he would.

"Are you building another rocket?" She asked, feeling her arms break out in goosebumps as she descended the stairs. It was much cooler on the main floor. She noted an open window. "Am I supposed to be concerned about fumes?" She asked, cocking her head.

Walter shook his head. "No. Window is open." He bent, fiddling with something underneath the machine that was slowly taking shape in the corner. Paige wondered if this was what he and Happy had been talking to Richard Elia about when she and Sly had left for the charity dinner the week before.

Paige approached him slowly. "Can that wait until the morning?" She asked, running a hand slowly up his back. She shivered, the cool air continuing to chill the garage. If she wasn't trying to get him upstairs, she'd have wished she was wearing a bra.

"I just have a couple more things I want to finish up," he said.

Paige tipped her head. "Wal – ter…" she said flirtatiously, trailing her fingers down his arm. "Come on up to the loft. Ralph is sleeping over at a friends' tonight."

"I will," Walter said. "I will soon."

Paige gave a quiet grunt of annoyance. She knew him. He wasn't lying to her – his intentions were to finish up what he was doing and then come to bed but he had a way of losing himself in his work and if she didn't persist he'd forget and before either of them knew it it was morning. "Walter, you're very good at what you're doing, but…" she smiled, biting her lip as she ran her hands through his hair. He briefly turned to look at her, throwing an affectionate smile her way before going back to his work. "But," Paige continued, "our case load has been crazy; we haven't been alone in nearly a week and I'd like to reap the benefits of some of your other talents tonight."

Walter turned to her, a frown on his face. "Huh?"

Paige sighed. She knew his work was important to her. But Tim's work was important to him too. Tim would never be so immersed in a project that he'd not understand that she wanted to have alone time with him.

She gave Walter a small smile, reaching for his hands and stepping close. "Come upstairs with me," she said in a quiet voice, still irritated that she had to be so persistently obvious but craving his touch so badly that she didn't want to start fight.

Understanding dawned in Walter's eyes, and after one more glance toward whatever he was building, he stepped against her, trapping their hands between them just below their waists, and putting his mouth gently on hers.

His kiss wasn't rushed, but it shot to every extremity almost instantaneously, and she moaned quietly into his mouth as she pressed more insistently against him. He released her hands, sliding them out from between their bodies to curl around her hips, tugging her closer by her bottom. He pulled his lips from her mouth and tipped his head to the side so he could kiss her neck.

"Oh Christ," she gasped, wrapping her arms around his neck as his lips and tongue continued to dance along hers. Keeping one hand where it was, he slid the other up to trail along the side of one of her breasts with his thumb, and she whimpered. Slowly he walked her backward a couple of steps until the work station stopped them, and her head fell backward, her arms bracing against the edge of the table as he pressed his pelvis to hers, both his hands coming up to cover her breasts. Her eyes were closed and she sighed as he massaged them over her top, his thumbs flicking over her hardened nipples. "Walter," she breathed, considering hopping up on the table and just staying here.

But no. She wanted to be upstairs, she wanted to be in his arms in his bed and away from any work. And it seemed he did too, for after several seconds more he stopped his attentions and pulled her back up straight, a hand coming up into her hair. "Come on, Love," he whispered, his favorite term of endearment, and brushed his lips across hers again before taking her hand and leading her up to the loft.

"I love you," he mumbled, and although she couldn't see his face, she knew his eyelids had drooped closed.

"I love you too."

Paige was more relaxed than she'd been in two weeks, with little on her mind as she rested her head on Walter's chest. She supposed her current state of relaxation in Walter's arms was perplexing, as what was on her mind was the very status of their relationship.

The three months between breaking up with Tim and embarking on a relationship with Walter had been interesting. She knew that she was never going to be truly happy with Tim. She felt comfortable with him, but there hadn't been passion between the two of them. There wasn't anything burning deep within her that could fuel that relationship through distance or hard times. She trusted that he wouldn't cheat or disappear without a word, but when faced with a life or death case on Scorpion, he wasn't her second or even her third choice of who she wanted to fight death with. She was fine crying at movies in front of him, but she hadn't been comfortable enough to really share the depths of herself. But Tim knew what to do. He knew when she needed flowers, or chocolates, when she needed space and when she wanted to be held. When she would enjoy a casual date and when she would prefer something grander. He had never had to ask. But she'd slowly come to realize that what they had wasn't enough. It wasn't nearly enough. She wanted more – different? – and the period of self – reflection that she'd gone through had led to a confession during a case that had probably surprised her just as much as it had Walter, even though the words had come from her own mouth.

She loved Walter. She'd known it before she'd told him that day, and she'd whispered it to him again and again as they kissed and kissed and kissed outside the garage upon returning home, taking a solid forty five minutes to say goodnight. The past month had been, in many ways, the most incredible month of her life. But in some ways, it had been the most frustrating. She had to weigh the things that Walter did to make her happy and see if they did outweigh the things that frustrated her. She loved him. But this was never going to be a relationship between two normals. If that's what she wanted, then she needed to get out, to find someone whose brain worked exactly like hers, who was more likely to be able to read her mind.

But, she realized the more she thought, that wasn't what she'd wanted. She'd had Tim Armstrong, a man who, on paper, seemed to be perfect for her. And she'd been happy with him, for a while, but she'd ended the relationship because, no matter how much she did love the little things that he did for her – that any normal would probably do for her without any prompting – they were little things in the grand scheme of life. She wanted them, but she could do without them, and she would eagerly do without them if she could get what she really wanted, above all else. She wanted someone who made her feel relief just by being in their arms. She wanted someone who cared so much about her that they'd ask how to make her feel better – even if they had to do it often. She wanted someone who could enrich her world by crafting ways for them to understand her and vice versa, exploring the boundaries of their reality. She wanted someone who was passionate about everything they did and capable of switching that passion from their work to her faster than the blink of an eye. She wanted I love you to be words she knew every second of every day but still made her heart swell whenever she heard them. She wanted someone that made her ache to be touched, to be held. She wanted to feel safe and she wanted to give the feeling of safety in return. And she wanted to feel like she was the only one – ever. Walter was capable of doing and being all of those things.

And Tim could never.