A little Angsy Callian. This is something I whipped up quickly and it is not Beta'd so there are bound to be a few errors.

Please review!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of this.

Something woke Cal from a sound sleep.

He lay in bed, heart racing, listening for something, anything, in the stillness of the house. The sound of rain on the roof muffled his senses. Distantly, on the edge of hearing, he thought he heard a board creak in the silence of the lower floor of his home. He moved quickly but with absolute stealth, removing the 45 from the drawer of his nightstand. It never hurt to be prepared.

He snuck down the hallway, pausing every so often to listen for further sounds from below. Perhaps he had imagined it but somehow something felt off. He had calmed somewhat by the time he reached the top of the stairs, just before he heard an audible thump from the area he approximated to be his living room. He took the safety off, cocking the gun.

"Oi! Whoever you are, I'm armed, I'm pissed off, and I'm a very good shot so I highly suggest you get the hell out of my house before I do something like blow your bloody head off," he called down the stairs.

He waited a beat and heard no further movement either of flight or of someone announcing their presence.

He continued down into the darkness, keeping his advantage. He was intimately familiar with the layout of his home and could navigate quite well in the dark, it was unlikely that whoever had been stupid enough to wander into his home uninvited could do so.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs and could see by the ambient light from the window that the kitchen was unoccupied, he remained in the semi-cover of the stairwell, locating the light switch on the kitchen wall that would illuminate the majority of the first floor living area but leave the stairwell in relative darkness.

'One, two, three,' he flipped the switch and recoiled back. Nothing happened. He risked a look around the corner into the living room, gun aimed and finger on the trigger. The figure standing in the center of his living room caused his heart to slam against his chest before he relaxed, lowering the gun. He sagged against the wall, legs rubbery as he held a hand to his chest.

"Christ Foster," he breathed, "you nearly gave me a bloody heart attack. What the hell are you doing here?" he slowly placed the gun on the counter.

She stood in silence, water dripping from her hair and her coat, fists clenched at her sides.

Cal moved toward her, concerned. He reached the threshold of the kitchen before her voice stopped him in his tracks.

"He didn't come home. He didn't meet me like he said he would." Her tone was flat containing no emotion that he could detect.

"Gillian," he said stepping closer, his voice soft. 'My god she looks a fright,' he thought. She was absolutely soaked for starters. Her coat had long ago ceased to keep the rain from her clothing and her sweater clung to her tightly. Water was forming in a pool around her feet. Her face was tilted toward the floor and mostly hidden by the angle of the light. He stopped his advance, experience putting him on alert.

"But then again, you already knew that didn't you?" she said pointedly.

"Yes, love, I did."

"I suppose you're happy now? You were right once again Cal, and I'm alone. Now we can both go back to being miserable and lonely, just the way you like it," she said steadily, letting the words hang in the air between them.

"I'm sorry you're in pain Gillian, but you're right, I'm not sorry he's gone."

"I loved him Cal, and he loved me whether you believe that or not." Her voice was beginning to go from flat to angry but she still refused to meet his eyes.

"I believe you Gillian but he wasn't good enough for you. A good man wouldn't drag you into the vipers' nest of his life just to be with you. He would sacrifice himself and what he wanted to keep you out of it," he said calmly, risking moving a few feet closer to her. She seemed to be mulling over his comment. Her hands flexed at her sides and her feet shifted slightly as if she were gathering herself for something.

"Did you mean what you said today?" she said looking up finally.

Her face was a mask of pain. Her eyes were red from crying and rain or tears had run her eye makeup. Still, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen and as much as he wanted to run to her and take her in his arms, he sensed it would be about the worst thing he could do for her at the moment. Instead he stuck his hands in his pockets, leaning back on his heels.

"Which part?" he deflected, knowing full well what she meant. "Listen, why don't you take off your coat and let me make you some tea or something?" he tried.

"Don't…Don't do that Cal," she said spitefully, anger beginning to bubble to the surface. He would rather see her angry with him than addressing him in that horrible emotionless tone.

"Gillian, please, just let me take your coat. You must be freezing. Let me take your coat and I'll tell you anything you want." He moved toward her slowly, one step at a time, waiting for her to stop him. When he reached her she met his eyes and his heart twisted in his chest. There was a war going on inside of her and somehow he was at the center of it. He carefully took her coat from her shoulders, making as little contact with her body as possible. As it was she flinched when the back of his hand accidently brushed the side of her neck.

He tossed the coat over the arm of a leather chair, not caring for the moment if the moisture ruined it. He turned back to her. She had wrapped her arms around herself and she was beginning to shiver.

"Did you mean what you said earlier Cal? Don't pretend you don't know what I mean."

"Gillian, it was a life and death situation, I said what I had to say to get us out of there alive."

"Bullshit Cal!" she sputtered. "There were a lot of lies going on in that room today, but that wasn't one of them. I just want you to say it. Look me in the eye and say it again."

"What do you want to know Gillian?" he said, edging closer, voice like the blade of a knife. "Do you want to know that I go to bed thinking of you every night? That I wake up in anticipation of seeing you every morning? Or do you want it dirty? Do you want to know the ways I think about you when I'm alone in bed? How about the ways I think about you when I'm not, love, how 'bout that?"

She stared at him in silence, emotions blazing across her face in her agony.

"I'll tell you anything you want, love," he said in a much quieter voice that still maintained its sharpness. "I'll tell you anything, but the truth…the real truth is that none of it matters. Do you hear me Gillian? None of it matters because this," he gestured to his chest, "is a den of vipers and unlike Captain America, I love you far too much to let you be bitten." He reached out a hand to her shoulder waiting for her to make the next move.

He didn't have to wait long. She quickly swept his hand away meeting his eyes with undiminished anger.

"That is such utter bullshit Cal and you know it. So you want me? Fine. Have me. Have me right here, on the floor, on the couch. Christ Cal, have me on the kitchen counter if you want. I'm right here." She paused drawing breath, "but you won't. You won't because you think you'll drag me down into some dark hole with you? Look around your hole, Cal because I'm already down here. So you want me but you won't take me? What am I supposed to do? Live my life alone like I have been? Wait for you to finally slay enough demons to fight your way to the surface? Of perhaps I'd be better off like you; stumbling blindly from meaningless affair to meaningless affair with every man who glances at me sideways? We could spend eternity together Cal, wanting each other in the worst way. Is that how you want it?"

She had advanced on him during her tirade and he had retreated inch by inch until he was nearly backed up against a wall. He didn't back down from people, it wasn't his style, but her behavior was so un-Gillian like, her words so scathing that shock had forced him into a corner. "Gillian…I…" he tried but he didn't have time to finish. Before he had time to react she had launched herself at him, pinning his body against the wall as her lips crashed down on his. Without thought he opened his mouth to her assault, admitting her impatient tongue which delved in immediately, probing him. It wasn't the way he wanted to kiss her but his body reacted automatically. He tried to still her hands as she reached between them, cupping the spot between his legs where his cock had begun to stir of its own volition and stroking him roughly.

She pushed his hands away as she pressed into him harder, the moisture from her sweater dampening the front of his shirt. Her hands stilled at the front of his pajama pants, having stroked him into a painful erection. She quickly pulled her sweater over her head, giving him no time to breath or even think before her lips and hands were on him again. She pushed his shirt up in a frenzy and muted his continued protestations with her lips.

Using the wall as leverage he pushed himself away, his superior strength and skill allowed him to quickly switch positions so that she was now pinned against the wall.

"Don't do this Gillian," he said through clenched teeth.

"What Cal? You mean this?" She pushed her hips against his, grinding into his erection. He closed his eyes with a pained look. "You mean don't take what we both want?" Her hand snaked around behind him, dipping into his pants and pushing them down while she took a firm hold on his ass, pulling him into her even harder.

"Not like this Gillian. Please don't make me do this," he begged, on the brink of losing control.

She grabbed his hair with her free hand, pulling his ear close to her lips. "I want you Cal; in the worst possible way." Her voice was lust and anger and a thousand unnamed things but most importantly it was liquid fire in his veins.

With a strangled growl deep in his throat, he let go.

He captured her lips forcefully, probing the warm recesses of her mouth with his eager tongue. He seized her bottom lip with his teeth, drawing a gasp from her as he thought he tasted blood. Fervent hands kneaded her breasts roughly, not bothering with her bra. He merely pushed the lace cups down allowing her breasts to spill over the cups and into his ready grasp. Skin that had been cool from the moisture of her clothing moments before now surged with heat.

If he had been hoping that turning the tables on her would cause her to reconsider her actions and back down, he had sorely miscalculated. Her hands ran over his body like wildfire. She reached around to the front of his pants, pressing a hand between their bodies as he angled his hips away from hers allowing her entry. She pushed his bottoms down, freeing him as the garment pooled around his ankles.

He grabbed her arms, drawing them over her head and using one strong hand to secure them as his upper body held her tightly against the wall. With his other hand he used the space between their bodies to work the closure on her jeans, pushing the moist fabric of her pants and panties over her thighs and down her legs as she stepped out of them, kicking them to the side.

He wanted to stop, but no amount of willpower could stop the freight train of their combined desire now that it had finally taken hold.

With his knee, he nudged her legs apart, widening her stance as he lowered his head to her breast, drawing a swollen nipple between his teeth as he roughly inserted a hand between her thighs, fingers probing over hot flesh.

She cried out, the sound torn from her throat as two fingers surveyed her moist entrance, opening her before reaching deep inside, pressing forward.

"Is this what you wanted Gillian?" his voice was course as he slid his fingers in and out of her forcefully.

"Yes," she said shakily, grinding herself into his hand, "Oh yes," she moaned in breathless pleasure.

He withdrew his hand, freeing her arms as he reached down to angle her hips away from the wall slightly, drawing her leg up over his hip in a quick movement as he felt the last vestiges of control slipping away.

Her hands gripped his back feverishly, nails digging into sweat glazed flesh as he moved between her legs, positioning himself just right before he drove into her hard with no preamble. Soft heat enveloped him completely before he withdrew, slamming into her again, almost lifting her off her feet. His hand moved around to her buttocks, lifting her, supporting her, pushing into her even further as she cried out in delighted, throaty, half-screams.

"Is this how you wanted it Gill? Tell me," he growled.

"God yes Cal! More!" she cried wantonly, hands moving lower, trying to pull him even closer.

Quickly reaching his limits, he lifted her higher, finding the angle that made her hands fist against his back, and her legs begin to shake as he drove into her, over and over, pushing her toward breaking.

He felt her tense as her inner muscles began to flutter around him. Suddenly she threw her head forward, clutching at him as he felt her teeth dug into his shoulder. It was too much. With a final thrust he exploded inside of her as she contracted around him, riding the wave of her powerful release. The primal cry that erupted from his throat as he spent himself inside of her, echoed through the room.

Breathing harsh and ragged they slid to the floor on rubbery legs. Cal clutched Gillian to him as they lay tangled in each other and their half-discarded clothing. They rested in silence as they recovered, reality slowly creeping in around them. It took Cal a moment to realize that her shaky breaths had turned to soft sobs against his chest.

"Gillian, oh Gillian. This isn't how I wanted it to be, love. Not like this." He stroked her hair and back, tightness in his chest as he cooed softly to her, tears dampening his own eyes.

He didn't know how long they lay like that, clutching each other desperately as her sobs slowly subsided. Chill crept over his sweat covered body and he shivered, rousing her.

"I'm so sorry Cal…I shouldn't have…I don't know what I was thinking."

"I know, love, I know. You were hurt and you needed something. I don't think this is really what you needed but here we are."

"Here we are," she said somewhat sadly.

"Yes."

"So what do we do now?" she asked hesitantly, unable to meet his eyes.

"Well for starters, we get up off of this bloody uncomfortable floor," he said, shifting his weight. "Then we get dressed. Then we drink tea and we talk," he sighed.

"I don't think we're ready for this yet Cal," she said in a small, frightened voice.

"No love, we're not. I love you and you love me, and it's bloody awful, but we're not there yet."

"What do we do about this?" she gestured to their naked forms.

"Well, it will certainly make my dreams about you more exciting," he deflected.

"You know what I mean Cal," she asserted.

"We do what we've been doing. We keep working to get there." He kissed her lips gently, soothing the hurts from his earlier roughness.

"Did you say something about tea?" she muttered against his lips.

"Yes. I think that's as good a place as any to start, don't you?"