a/n: This is a Paige/ Alex pairing. The title of this fic is taken from a Smashing Pumpkins song. The POV's are pretty self-explanatory and it's set post season 5. I thought I'd write some fluff, but it didn't really turn out that way. Hmm…bit like life. Anyway, feedback is always welcomed/appreciated.

"Alex," she says, lightly playing with my fingers, tracing the lines on my palm with her own, "You really have no idea do you?"

"What do you mean?" I ask lazily, stealing a look at her out of the corner of my eye. It's too hot to really move, although I'm far too comfortable to even contemplate it. It's just a day. An ordinary carefree, non-event of a day. And we're just here, in this park, doing nothing. Shooting the breeze, chewing the fat, talking shit, whatever. Nothing. I like it.

"Do you?" she persists. But I can't even remember what we were talking about. And I can feel her raised up on one elbow against me now, as I lay here looking at the sun filtering through the leaves.

"What?" I drawl with a smile forming.

She sighs in mock exasperation. "No idea," she mutters as she settles down again, finding the crook of my arm.

"No idea about what?"

"About how much I love you," she replies simply, already sounding bored with the effort this conversation is taking.

Hmm…love. There's any number of ways this could go with Paige. Love is something you feel, I reckon. Not something you necessarily have to discuss. It just messes it up. Just live it, be it. Be here, under this tree, next to me, in the sun.

"Actually I have a record of just how much you've loved me over the past couple months."

I get my arm swatted not all that gently for that one. I guess I deserved it. But it was kinda worth it.

"You're hopeless," she whispers into my shoulder. But she sounds almost sad as she says it, which always makes my skin feel itchy. She mustn't be sad. Not because of me.

"I am hopeless," I repeat as my arm curls around her waist, "But that's why you love me."

"No," she corrects me, "I love you despite that." I gaze back at her then to check her expression. She has this way of tricking me, of sounding really sincere, but there's this twinkle in her eye that always gives her away. I lift up my shades so I can examine her eyes more closely. There it is. Thank God for that twinkle or I'd be screwed.

I grin and close my eyes, contentment seeping back into my bones following this brief interlude. But I can feel her alertness, her restlessness, made evident by several audible sighs.

She really wants to have a serious conversation about this.

"Paige?"

"Yeah?"

"Tell me how much you love me then."

"No," she answers flatly.

"Go on," I coax her, nudging her with my elbow and grinning despite myself.

"No, I don't feel like it anymore," she replies sitting up.

Always the first sign of trouble, breaking contact. How do I do this? How do I manage to just piss her off out of nowhere. I mean, this is about absolutely nothing. Seriously, she says she loves me for Christ's sake. She loves me and yet at the same time she's pissed off because…what? I didn't let her tell me there and then how much she loves me!

"Paige, baby…" I stretch my arm up to rub her back soothingly as that is now the only view she is affording me.

I'm aware of her shoulders as they hunch up and fall, heaving out yet another sigh. "Please tell me," I attempt once more, trying to sound more like an attentive girlfriend and less like a smartass.

"No," she refuses again sulkily.

"Why not?" I ask, my hand now moving in small circular motions, trying to soothe that tension away.

"Because…"

"Ah, there's an argument…"

"It's embarrassing…"

"Why's it embarrassing?"

"Because…"

"Ah, because. Because, because, because…" I start chanting the word and then giggle to myself at the ludicrous sound of its repetition. Evidently that joint form two hours ago has not entirely worn off.

"Alex?" she turns to look back down at me and I hold my arms out to her.

"Come here." She starts to lie back again, "I'll show you how much I love you."

"We're in a public park, Alex," she replies dryly.

"So? I can still hug my girlfriend can't I? Or were you thinking of something more x-rated? Filthy girl," I say in mock disgust.

This gets a smile. I'm winning her back. It's going to be okay. She's in my arms and the sun is shining. I don't really care about anything else right now.

oooOOOooo

"So I'm on course now. I mean, it's early days, but they definitely want to take me on a probationary period following graduation."

"That's great honey," she replies with that lethargic grin spreading across her face. I can't even tell if her eyes are open under her sunglasses, but I suspect they're not.

"Thing is, they'd most likely want me overseas for the first year. Paris probably."

I pause to see how she reacts to this. I can feel her stirring under my gaze, "Paris…wow…" she replies non-committally.

It's pretty obvious that she's stoned again. Just looking at her makes me feel exhausted, not that this heat is helping. My undeniably gorgeous, frustratingly stupid, brazenly charming, surprisingly humble, secretly clever pothead of a girlfriend. She makes me feel so many different things that my heart just can't cope with it all sometimes. I can literally go through a hundred different emotions a day with her, some of them sweet, others exasperatingly painful. At first the newness of everything was beyond exciting. But now, I just feel like she sucks the life from me. And yet she carries on unscathed, like this very instance, just lying there, oblivious.

There are so many decisions to be made, words to be spoken. I can't carry on just acting on every impulse that comes into one of our heads. I might literally collapse from it all. I need her to know all this. Of what I want and what I feel. For her, for us…for where we're going. But the future never seems to be a topic worthy of discussion with her. And it's been so blissful to just float around together in our hazy bubble. But my graduation is looming, another end, another beginning…

I rest my head on her shoulder and she runs her fingers idly through my hair. She kisses my head and mumbles, "love you," into my temple.

"I love you too," I respond, catching her hand as it falls from my face.

"You do huh?" she smiles and half-stifles a yawn.

So distracted, so unfocused, and yet so unutterably magnetic. I'm tracing her palm with my fingers, thinking first of how long her lifeline is, and then of where her hand had been less than an hour ago. And then of how exquisitely tender they were capable of being. I loved her hand. Alex hand…

I feel an insane rush of love in that instant, severely painful in its sudden ferocity, like if I can't release it somehow it'll just drown me there and then. I turn to look at her, expecting a reaction, some sense of recognition, but she just continues to recline in ignorance.

It's infuriating, it's amusing and it's also terrifying. How can we love each other when how we love is so different?

"Alex?" my light tone belies my frantic heart, "You really have no idea do you?"

"What do you mean?" she answers back, no real awareness or concern in her voice.

I'm unreasonably disappointed. I want her to know what I mean without me explaining it to her. Maybe this isn't fair. Maybe it is. It's not that I expect her to be able to read my mind…

"Do you?"

"What?"

…Well, yes, maybe I do expect her to be able to read my mind.

"No idea about what?"

"About how much I love you."

"Actually I have a record of just how much you loved me over the past couple months."

Typical Alex, when it all gets too serious let's just make it about sex. But I snuggle up to her anyway, because I need to be near her right now. "You're hopeless," I whisper, trying to end this conversation and save it, yet again, for another time.

"I am hopeless," she retorts, "But that's why you love me."

"No, I love you despite that," I say out of reflex. She shoots me a look like she concedes that round to me. But the victory just leaves me feeling deflated. The thought that maybe I meant what I said is all too apparent.

"Paige?"

"Yeah?"

"Tell me how much you love me then."

"No." The moment is gone

"Go on," she's teasing me now, trying to indulge me like a spoilt child. It annoys me to the point where I have to sit up.

"No, I don't feel like it anymore."

"Paige, baby…" she leans forward to stroke my back lightly, "Please tell me."

"No," I will not just cave in this easily. This isn't a game dammit. That's the whole point.

"Why not?"

"Because…" I really can't tell her now, can't even begin to explain, it will come out all wrong, all apologetic and stupid.

"Ah, there's an argument…"

"It's embarrassing…"

"Why's it embarrassing?"

"Because…"

"Ah, because. Because, because, because…" she laughs at some private joke, between her and her hash pipe no doubt.

But she's adorable nonetheless and my heart begins to swell at the sight of her utterly happy state.

But it's not enough. I know it's not and never will be. Because she is so perfectly beautifully content in this moment. This agonizing live-or-die moment.

"Alex?" one last time, one last try. Read my mind. Tell me you can't live without me. Say you'll come to Paris. Ask me to stay.

"Come here, I'll show you how much I love you."

Back with the jokes, and the smut…

"We're in a public park, Alex."

"So? I can still hug my girlfriend can't I? Or were you thinking of something more x-rated? Filthy girl…"

I smile ruefully as I lie back into her arms. And as she holds me I promise myself that I'll tell her… I'll tell her tonight… I'll tell her…that I can't do this anymore…