PROTON PAIGE

AN: I had a guest reviewer tell me I should add chapters as I thought of awkward moments in the Waige relationship. Thanks for the suggestion!

This idea came to me when I was reviewing Foxphile's 'We Need to Talk'. It got me to thinking about Walter's competitive streak and that got me laughing. I hope it does you too. I shamelessly ripped off two lines from 2x21 'Twist and Shout' when Tim beat Walter's high score on Proton Arnold.

Here goes:

Sure, Walter O'Brien had a lot to learn about being in a romantic relationship. He frequently required coaching and lots and lots of patience.

But there was one area where he…needed no improvement.

To say Walter was good in bed would be like saying Michael Phelps was a pretty decent swimmer, or the 2011 Japanese earthquake was a little tremor. Paige was sure Walter regularly caused her world to tilt on its axis way more than a measly 6.5 inches. More like a good 9! And if sex was an Olympic sport, he would have to be the record holder for the most medals. Perversely she sometimes pictured him standing naked on a platform waiting for his latest award while the National Anthem proudly played. She might want to stand up and salute, but every time he 'brought home the gold', he reduced her legs to jelly.

Their first time, he'd been nervous and unsure. It was very sweet. And quick. They'd both been a little 'pent up'.

It was also the dead last time she'd had the upper hand.

Since then he'd taken to it like a geek to the latest version of Halo. It was like he wanted all of her high scores to read 'WOB' and needed to prove 'a physical advantage would eventually wane in the face of superior intellect'. It still amazed her how quickly he'd 'memorized all her graphic patterns and every attack scenario'.

Paige figured Walter wanted to make sure he stood out as best compared with all her other lovers. For him, everything was a competition. What the genius didn't realize was her past conquests only numbered three.

Her first was the cliché high school boyfriend on prom night three weeks before graduation. Things can't get too cozy working around formal wear in the backseat of Volkswagen Rabbit. The boy was cute and very enthusiastic, but lacked any pretense of skill. Let's just say his car described his style.

And Drew? Her college boyfriend? The all-star baseball jock? He and Walter weren't even batting in the same league. Walter definitely made it to the Majors. In contrast, Drew was in the Peewees in more ways than one. When she was in a relationship with Ralph's sperm donor, she was young and star struck and didn't have much to compare him with.

Frankly, the last one was a drunken hook up at a party. Go figure. As it turns out, being a single mom working two menial jobs didn't afford much time or energy for dating opportunities. The whole thing was sloppy and very unremarkable and it was her only attempt at revenge sex when she was trying to forget Drew's infidelity and ultimate desertion.

Tim's and her encounters didn't even deserve an honorable mention, because he had merely made a few half-hearted passes at her while they were dating. There was never enough spark between the two of them to light her pilot, much less get her home fires burning. So she had never SEALed the deal with the Navy SEAL, period.

It wasn't that she was complaining about Walter's need to be the best per se. Who would? Here she had a genius boyfriend hell-bent on becoming the world's greatest lover. What's not to love about that?

So, what exactly was her problem?

For starters, she was tired. Lack of sleep was starting to take its toll making her mind sluggish. Paige was slowly being screwed stupid. Walter required a whole lot less sleep than she did. It was just facts. She needed eight straight at least three times a week to be able to function. The man had crazy stamina, however, and she didn't sleep much when he stayed over.

But even more than that? Paige desperately wanted to make Walter lose all control. She wanted to see him come apart. Reduce his IQ by 150 points. Make him shudder and shake and beg just like he made her do all the time. Yes, he enjoyed himself when they were together. Very much. But just once she would like to be the one on the podium, in all her glory with Old Glory flying behind her waiting for her gold medal. It would be her proudest moment to have her initials beside all of Walter's high scores.

But how to go about it…? It would require a master plan. And she would get right on that. As soon as she caught up on some sleep.

One of the problems she encountered in trying to catch up on sleep and form a solid plan of 'getting action' was coming up with creative excuses why the two of them couldn't do the hokey-pokey for a few days. She couldn't let him think he'd done anything wrong, but for this to work, Paige wanted Walter good and frustrated.

In and of itself, the lack of action caused a couple of side issues. Number One, if she was driving him a little bit crazy, she was well on the way to becoming a certifiable lunatic. How did she go her whole life without regular sex with him? Now that she knew what she was missing, abstaining was more than a little difficult for her as well. Number Two, Paige discovered wound-up Walter's EQ dropped significantly. It hadn't even been a week and he'd already barked at nearly everyone in the garage. She only hoped she could make it up to them all once victory was hers.

At the end of the extremely looooong week, Paige knew precisely what she was going to do. She read all the articles. What? If Walter can get advice about 'how to be the perfect pal' from a ladies' magazine, why couldn't she get 'how to blow his mind in bed' advice from Cosmo? She had all the products. So many to choose from, she researched to make sure the combinations weren't actually volatile. Chemical burns might kill the mood. She even had on the perfect underwear.

To start things off on the right foot, Paige wore an outfit that she deemed sexy professional. Nothing too daring, but her blouse was cut low enough to give him an occasional glimpse at the girls if she angled herself the right way. Throughout the day she did just that. Once in a while she would whisper in his ear how much she missed him and tell him how ready she was to get him alone. The trouble was, the burning looks and that one quiet little growl she got in return were doing unspeakable things to her own libido.

And by the time they said goodbye to Ralph and sent everyone else out of the garage for the night, all her plans flew straight out of her head with the first heated kiss. After that, if his kisses and caresses hadn't done it, the murmured love words would have pushed her over the edge of sanity. Well, hell. Hoist with her own petard.

Ladies and gentleman, please rise for the national anthem. Again.