A/N: Written for this prompt: Five times a woman flirted with Arthur in front of Ariadne, and one time a man flirted with Ariadne in front of Arthur. Except I'm lazy and wrote this within the last hour so it's *three* times instead of the regular five. Sorry, anon. Hope you can forgive me.

88888

The Waitress

Ariadne tries not to let it bother her. After all, they're nothing more than colleagues. Well, she'd call him a friend but she isn't sure if Arthur would say the same. So what if the statuesque blond serving them drinks is flirting with Arthur? And wrote her number down on a napkin which he slipped into his pocket? At least he didn't save it in his phone.

Anyway, it shouldn't matter to Ariadne.

It doesn't.

She doesn't give a fuck.

"Are you okay?" Arthur asks, sending her a concerned look.

Of course he notices her reaction now that the bimbo is finally gone from their table. Jackass.

"Peachy," she grits. "Can we finally get back to work? Or would you like a break for a quickie?"

He cocks his eyebrow. "Well, if you're in the mood-"

"I meant with the waitress," she interjects.

His mouth quirks into an amused smile, there's a mischievous spark in his eyes - she resists the urge to smack him across the face. In the next second, however, he reverts back to his usual self. "I think we need to add an escalator to the second layer."

She comforts herself with the thought it's relief – and not disappointment – that surges through her.

The Stripper

"You realize she was totally working you, right? And you fell for it!"

Arthur smiles, and it infuriates her.

"There were dollar signs in her eyes when she noticed your Cartier watch," Ariadne continues.

"I think she was being sincere."

"Oh, come on! I can't believe you tipped her a hundred."

His fingers suddenly encircle her elbow, his grip just tight enough to stop her from walking away. When she turns to face him, he's watching her with that dark, mysterious glint in his eyes.

Her heart starts pounding in her chest.

"Ariadne?"

"Yes?"

"If you ever want to give me a lap dance," he whispers, his gaze momentarily dropping to her lips before returning to meet hers, "and tell me I'm the hottest guy you've danced for, I'll give you a lot more than that."

Before she can respond, he slips away.

And she's left staring after him.

The Roommate

Ariadne attempts to concentrate on what Felix is saying but her attention is repeatedly drawn to the couple standing on the balcony. Susannah, her old roommate from freshman year, is chatting, smiling, flirting with Arthur which he's absolutely eating up. At one point Susannah reaches out and affectionately runs her fingers down the length of his arm and a flash of red, hot anger washes over Ariadne.

Maybe Susannah isn't his type.

Taking in the smitten look on his face, Ariadne realizes she's wrong. He's totally flirting back.

Bastard.

Short while later she's in the kitchen, opening up a new bottle of wine when Arthur creeps up from behind.

"Need some help?"

"Can you push those bottles aside?"

"I like this new apartment of yours. It's very you," he replies while piling the empty wine bottles together.

She levels him with a look. "You and Susannah seem to have really hit it off."

He cocks his eyebrow. "Jealous?"

"Don't flatter yourself."

"I have to. Since you won't," he smirks.

Ariadne refuses to let him taunt her. "Don't be a jerk, okay? She's a nice girl."

One second, he's standing a few feet away. Next he's directly in front of her, catching her completely by surprise. He has her trapped against the kitchen counter, his arms on either side of her and blocking her in. His close proximity is wreaking havoc in her, and from the smug twinkle in his eyes, he's fully aware of it.

"A jerk? Is that what you really think of me?" he murmurs.

"Yes," she says defiantly.

"Why?"

"Because you were flirting with my friend just a few minutes ago and now you're trying the same moves on me!"

"Maybe that was a stunt to get your attention."

"Oh, please."

He leans in so close, she can feel his cool breath caressing her skin. "One of these days, Ariadne, you'll have to stop running."

"Don't even. We both know you like the chase."

"Maybe I'm tired of the games. Maybe I want something different."

"I don't trust your 'maybes'."

"You trust me with your life," he reminds her.

"But not my heart." His jaw clenches, eyes flashing anger, and she realizes she's hurt his feelings. "Arthur-"

"Don't."

He exits the kitchen without glancing back at her.

Half an hour later, when he leaves her party with Susannah by his side, she tells herself it's for the best.

The Stranger

Ariadne wonders if it would really be so bad if she went home with Todd. Though she's never been the type to indulge in one-night stands, it's been a while since she's had sex and her body aches for release. And fuck it, she deserves to have some fun!

Todd is a mop of blonde curls, sparkling blue eyes, an infectious smile and gruff laughter. He's been sharing corny jokes with her the past hour and even though they're not funny, she can't help but laugh at his enthusiasm. Plus, guys like him don't pick up girls like her when there are other, much-less inhibited, gorgeous women around. She's curious to find out why he even approached her.

"Okay, I've got another one. What's the difference between God and an architect?" Todd asks.

She shrugs her shoulder. "I don't know."

"God know He's a great architect-"

"An architect knows he's greater than God," Arthur interjects, slipping in next to her at the bar while his arm wraps around her waist. He casually leans forward to graze her temple with his lips. "What is it with you and bad jokes?"

She's too stunned with the intimate gesture to say anything.

Todd looks flustered, his cheeks flushed. "Sorry, I didn't realize you were waiting for someone."

"Thanks for keeping my girlfriend company," Arthur says.

"No problem."

Ariadne stares after Todd as he walks away from the bar before whirling around to confront Arthur. "What the hell are you doing?"

"You're here to keep an eye on the mark, not pick up a fucking stranger."

"No, that's your job. I'm here to make sure my specs match this place and they do," she bites back. "What I do on my free time is none of your fucking business."

"That guy?" Arthur demands. "Seriously?"

"Fuck you!"

She storms away from him and exits the bar. The cold, winter air is harsh and biting against her skin as she speeds down the sidewalk but she's too angry to care. They've worked together for the past six months and she's been a spectator of his many hook-ups and casual flirtations. Who the fuck is he to judge her for doing something he's done numerous times? When the hell did he turn into a hypocrite?

A tight grip on her arm forces her to spin around and she's confronted with a furious Arthur. She can't remember the last time she's seen him this angry. Or felt this way herself.

"Would you have really fucked him?" he demands.

"Yes!" she grits out.

"What was it about him? The baby blue eyes?" he mocks, a cold sneer twisting his face into something she hardly recognizes.

"He's not an asshole like you!"

She's not prepared when he pulls her toward him, crushing her against him.

She's definitely not ready when his fingers lace through her hair, fisting the strands, pulling her head back at an angle which gives him easier access to her mouth.

She's absolutely stunned when his lips cover hers, his tongue demanding entrance which she doesn't hesitate to give.

Sometimes a kiss is not just a kiss. It's need, hunger, a form of desperation that yearns to be matched.

He's everything she's ever wanted, but afraid to go after.

When he finally pulls away, his hands moving to either side of her hips and digging into her, his heart pounding so loudly she can feel it through his shirt, they stare at each other silently.

A line has been crossed.

They can't go back.

And she has no idea what to do next.