Silly? Nonsensical? Shabby euphemisms masquerading as vocabulary and allusions? Overdose of old school country music (not that that has to do with anything)? Product of +24 hour sleep deprivation?

Warning: pre- and post-reproductive activities.

A Unique Case of the Mondays

If anyone bothered to ask Haley James just what she did on weeknights—in particular the first Monday of May in her very first year of teaching—they'd be utterly astonished at the answer.

No one more so than she.

Her students lacking an active imagination would suppose grading papers with a glass of wine and probably a couple cats. Her students gifted with more colorful hallucinations would venture underground sex clubs and general anarchy. Her colleagues would shrug and assume the same thing they did every weeknight: curse the day they wanted to change the world, one child at a time.

The truth was: usually but without the cats; that was, first, once, second, in college, third, while absolutely trashed, and, fourth, a dare; and only when she had the misfortune of classes with high school jocks reaching the climax of their sexual prowess, so, yes, every weeknight.

That happened to not be the case (of the Mondays) tonight.

An arm wrapped around her waist, hauling her hips snug against his. His other hand stretched over to grab the edge of the door and slam it shut. A flash of blue was all she caught before slightly chapped lips pressed insistently against hers, already gaping open in surprise. Five slaps with the palms of her hands against a wall of muscle and he finally released her (after managing to curl his tongue around hers and coerce several moans from the back of her throat).

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" She reeled back only to find herself already pressed against the closed door and had to shimmy her way out of the confined space. Taking refuge behind the kitchen island, she repeated the question. Nathan merely stared at her with glazed eyes and licked his (reddened and swollen) lips. Self-consciously, Haley swiped a hand over her own. "Well?"

"What's it look like?"

His exasperation was obvious as he cornered her by the microwave. With a slight bend of his knees, he tucked a forearm under her butt and easily lifted her, leaving her limbs to scramble for a hold around his neck and waist, respectively. Her shocked silence followed them all the way into her bedroom.

And, yes, she was extremely put out at having to abandon her glass of wine. Much less so the stack of papers-to-be-graded on Moby Dick, half of which were written by the aforementioned jocks and undoubtedly focused on phallic symbolism.

Stupid required reading lists.

"Uh, hello."

"Hi," he mumbled sleepily into the side of her (sweaty) neck.

"You're kind of heavy," Haley ventured when he remained silent. After a moment, a leg eased off hers but the effect was ruined by his arm dragging her torso further under his. "Nathan."

He grumbled but finally rolled off to the side, leaving his nose pressed against her. "Don't move, 'kay?"

Haley sighed as his hand slid to fondle his favorite part of her body. "Why are you here?"

"I'm sleepy, Hales."

His tongue poked out to lap at her skin, and she shivered in response. It was always ridiculous to her that big man on campus Nathan Scott was the most affectionate cuddler she'd ever known. Not that she'd been personally acquainted with many. "Why do you have a black eye?"

"I got into a fight."

Her eyes widened in alarm. Not that he could see it. "When?"

"Tonight." His response was accompanied by a leg sliding back over hers.

"Tonight? During the game?"

"Yup." When he popped the 'p', she pinched his insolent stomach (amazing abdominals) to keep from being suffocated under his migrating body parts.

"You got into a fight during an NBA playoff game with—I'm guessing here—your old college rival, Damien West? You are a stupid man."

"Realized something."

"That you're a stupid man?" He lightly bit the side of her neck in punishment. "Ow. That you're a vampire? Do. Not. Bite. Me."

He nuzzled into her hairline and gave a soft sigh. "Guess again."

" 'Hey, it's been a long time since I banged my ex-girlfriend, and since she was known as the resident bookworm, it's probably been awhile for her, too, so she wouldn't really mind if I just pop over'?"

"I want to marry you."

Her breath caught in her throat and her body stilled even as his thumb rubbed soft circles onto her hip. She forced a chuckle and turned away from him, ignoring how he immediately spooned behind her. "Tonight's been enough of a trip. Let's not be completely delusional."

Once upon a time, those were the words she wanted to hear most in the world. Once upon a time, she'd snit to his overbearing father that Nathan was twice the man he could only dream of being, and capable of one hundred times the love. Once upon a time, she'd thought her prince was about to propose.

Then he left for the NBA—and left her because he needed to focus—and she barely pulled it together in time to pass her teaching certification. Reality became a modest apartment (upgraded from her college hole-in-the-wall), disgruntled teenagers prone to histrionics, atrocious coffee in the teacher's lounge, and a five a.m. alarm for seven a.m. homeroom.

Her hand lazily fumbled around the bedside table for said alarm and finally slapped down on the clock-radio. There was a flurry of movement behind her, and she whipped her head around to find a naked and disoriented Nathan Scott staring back at her, and gagging on a mouthful of her long hair.

"Shit, Hales, wha' time's it?" he grouched and then fell face first onto her pillow once more.

Haley took advantage of his sightlessness to scramble for the robe hanging off her bedroom door. "Nath—" Her eyes swept over the state of her room, and she realized that her original question was moot. "What are you still doing here?"

His head rose ever so slowly from her pillow and chanced a glance at her clock. "You've got to be kidding me." To her shock (and admiration), he dragged his (buck naked) body out of her bed and proceeded to rifle through his jacket. He gave a grunt of satisfaction when his hand closed over something and quickly approached her, dropping to one knee.

His large fingers prodded at the seam of the velvet box until he could pry it open. "Will you marry me?" he asked and then pushed the ring right under her nose for inspection.

She gaped ever so obviously at him, glanced down and then immediately back up to the ceiling. "You're naked!"

"Well, yeah. You sounded pissed. Didn't think I had the time to get dressed." He cast a slow glance around the room and the scattered clothing and gave her a wide smirk.

Haley's eyes grew and she snapped, "Well, you do." Her dismissal was punctuated by storming off into the kitchen.

Nathan followed seconds later, given that his idea of dressed amounted to boxers. "Are you going to answer my question?"

"No, because it's ridiculous and I lied. There is such a thing as a stupid question," she snit and violently pushed the glass jug into the coffee maker. "You're mocking me," Haley accused and realized it had absolutely no effect.

He gave her a content smile. "Are you making me coffee?"

"Yes. It's the polite thing to do. Something you wouldn't recognize if it sat on your head." A bolt for the living room immediately followed her retort.

His hand snagged the tie on her robe and dragged her between his legs and the counter. "The polite thing would be to answer my question. I want to marry you. So. Will you?"

"Why would you want to marry me?" Her voice sounded hysterical, and she quickly tamed it. "Why would I want to marry you? I haven't seen you in two years, Nathan. You told me it was a lost cause. That I shouldn't wait around for you. I haven't."

"Are you dating someone?" He scowled then glanced around at their surroundings as if the dishes would tell him if there were a lurking significant other.

But her steamroll was not to be derailed:

"You were the one thing I wanted in the world, which is ridiculous because everyone knows how that turns out. But you were it, alright? I tried damn hard and I got damn close, but it didn't happen. So, instead of torturing myself and the people unfortunate enough to be around me with what could have been, I moved on. You don't get to come here—to my new life—and upend everything I've worked for. You don't."

"I'm not some toy for your amusement. I made your life my life for nearly eight years and this is how you repay me? You all but kick me to the curb, treat me like some parasite who's out to strangle you in your sleep. Then you blow back into my life two years later and expect me to fall at your feet? Get out, Nathan."

His hands instinctively rose to stave off her attack. There was already damage to his moneymaker – a split lip, partially swollen nose, and a black eye to be exact – and he was sure she'd regret doing any more once she forgave him. His hold on her wrists was firm but gentle when he twisted her around to press her against the counter. Shoddy as his proposal plans were, they didn't include manhandling.

"Look, you can stay still and let me talk or keep squirming and risk counter sex." The surprised squeak told him that low and gravelly definitely still had its intended effect.

"Do you know why I fought West? You know what he has on me that no one else in the NBA does? You." Her squawk of protest was cut off by a roll of his hips. "I didn't believe him. Even if you two are living in the same city, there's no way you'd let slime like that touch you."

"I don't know. It was pretty easy for you to ambush my apartment and drag me to bed," she scoffed, rolling her eyes at his hiss of unbridled jealously. "Do you have a point? This position isn't entirely comfortable, you know."

"I didn't punch West because I was mad at him. I was mad at myself. Two years later and I'm still pissed like hell because I let you go. He just had to go and bring it up. It's not regret, it's not wishful thinking, or whatever you've got in your head. I legitimately want to go back and strangle myself for thinking that life could be alright without you."

"Listen, I'm injured, suspended, fined, and probably benched. Do you know what I did after that? After I ruined my career and reputation? I called Luke and begged him for your address. I went to a jeweler and bought that ring. I drove two hours in traffic to get here. I get that I screwed up. Bad doesn't even cover it, I know. But I've spent the last two years regretting it, and you've spent two years trying to forget it. I don't want to keep living like that. End it for us, Hales. Say yes."

"First of all, let go of me you hulking Neanderthal. I'm not going to try and hit you again." Haley spun around only to face his crossed arms and drawn brow. "Yeah, why don't you grunt a bit, too?" she threw in under her breath and matched his scowl.

"Here's what's going to happen. I'm going to shower and go to work; you are going to sort out the mess you made of your career. Tonight, there will be clothes – a suit if you can, and a blue tie – and possibly a dinner reservation. Then you can try this over."

The staring contest ended when he grunted out, "Fine." Then, with a bend of his knees, he hauled her over his shoulder. Her shocked silence followed them all the way into her shower.