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“Hey,” she smiled, heading towards him.
“Hey,” Iain smiled back.
“Hiding from the mayhem?” Stevie asked with a smirk. She handed him a glass of bubbles, finger brushing against his own.
“Something like that,” he said and took a sip.
Her eyes lingered on his mouth on the glass.
Emma always said she changed when she’d had a drink.
“So, how’s married life?” She sipped her own drink now, shifting her gaze away.
“All 3 hours of it?” He chuckled. “Yeah, yeah it’s great I guess.”
“You guess?” She quipped back quickly, not missing a beat.
“No, no I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, gulping back more of his drink.
Stevie tilted her glass in circles, watching the golden liquid swirl.
“How’re you doing?” Iain asked, voice softening slightly.
She lifted her eyes to meet his and gave a small shrug before knocking back her drink.
“That good, huh?”
“I have cancer, it’s a barrel of laughs.”
There was a silence that befell them, and she felt almost guilty for snapping. Almost.
“Sorry,” Iain sighed. “I didn’t think.”
“It’s fine,” she said, pursing her lips. “Bet you’re glad you wasted a good cliff jump.”
“Oh tell me about it,” he smirked. “Last time I jump off a cliff for anybody.”
She couldn’t stifle a chuckle in response, and she wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the room itself but she could feel her cheeks heat up, could feel the blush creeping in. She’d glanced down, trying to hide it, but he could see. Of course he could see.
He saw her.
“Thank you,” she said softly, looking back up at him. He was certain her eyes had grown in size, big and blue and staring up at his own.
“For what?” He asked, voice low.
“For saving my life,” she said quietly. Sincerely.
“Thank you for saving mine,” he echoed.
The air felt thick between them, loaded with the unsaid, weighed down by the knowledge that they couldn’t do this. They shouldn’t do this. Yet it wasn’t all too hard to wade through as they closed the gap.
Stevie felt a sharp pang on guilt through her chest, a physical reaction that wasn’t enough to dissuade her (for that she blamed the alcohol). For something so wrong, she couldn’t help but feel it was right.
It was tender at first. Her lips barely brushed his, slow and careful and tinged with an uncertainty.
But he kissed her back. Hard.
It was a stifling kiss that knocked all thought from her head. Made everything else disappear as the electricity shot through her like lightning. Her hand on his chest was all that grounded her.
He pulled away. (He wished he had originally).
(He wanted to dive back in).
The pounding in his chest made him feel winded, drained, excited. He couldn’t differentiate. He couldn’t work it out. There was a million and one things going through his head.
(When kissing her there had only been one).
“I‘ve gotta go,” he mumbled, just about. He thought he might choke on the words.
She thought so too.