Trent made his way back downstairs and into the kitchen after his shower. He fastened the buttons on the sleeve of his dress shirt and then proceeded to put on his suit jacket.

Fallon stood in front of the refrigerator doors, chewing at the cap of the pen in her hand. He stood for a moment, once again admiring her, as she turned to face him.

"You look fancy for a dinner at home," she commented.

He smiled, "thanks, but it's not for dinner, I got a call a little while ago, I have to run out and meet with one of the men that was here the other night. It seemed urgent. I'll be back by dinner, I promise."

Her face fell as she nodded, "okay."

It broke his heart immediately, the thought of making her sad. "I'm sorry, I promise, I'm gonna be back in time."

"It's okay, it's your job, do what you need to."

He kissed the top of her head, "a few hours, that's all."

"Is Frank going with you?" She stared at her feet as he started walking to the front door.

"Yes, Frank is going with me."

"Is this meeting going to be as dangerous as the one that you had here?"

He walked back into the kitchen, "No," he grabbed her hands, "it's not, just discussion."

"Okay," she nodded, still adverting her gaze.

"Hey," he whispered, tilting her face to look at him, "this is my job, I know it's not exactly normal, but you don't have to worry."

"I always worry about you."

He pulled her into his embrace and she wrapped her arms tightly around him, the smell of lavender and vanilla radiating from her.

"I know you do."

"Be careful, okay?"

"I will," he slowly started to let go of her, "I'll see you at dinner. Make sure you're careful going to the grocery store."

"I think I'll be fine," she smiled.

She listened for the front door to open and then click shut, signaling the lock had engaged. She exhaled a deep breath, trying to calm her newly acquired nervousness. She still didn't know much about how Trent and his business worked, but she knew enough now to know that nothing he ever did was truly safe. It both intrigued her and scared her. What he thought was nothing, could quickly take a turn to be something. It was the uncertainty that plagued her.

For now, she was focused on getting to the grocery store, cooking would calm her nerves, it always did.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Trent finally returned home and entered the foyer, he could smell Fallon's hard work in the kitchen. The aroma of roasted garlic danced through the entirety of the house, and the sound of music playing in the kitchen was evident through the walls. It felt like the house itself was alive.

He had stopped on his way home at the florist, asking them to carefully craft a bouquet of roses and sunflowers, her favorites. He just wanted to show her his appreciation of making dinner, along with every single other thing she'd done over the last few weeks. Maybe she wasn't entirely his, but for all the moments she had existed with him, around him, and for him, he just wanted her to feel seen. And a part of him also simply wanted her so badly, that it made him believe that something as simple as a bouquet of flowers would help pull her out of this convoluted situation in his favor.

When he saw her in the kitchen, the music playing, her seemingly floating between stirring a pot of something on the stove and chopping at the counter, he felt a slight pang of jealousy that this was what Matt had had for all these years. He slid in while her back was to the doorway and positioned himself between her and the counter so she would see him as she turned.

He chuckled silently as she continued throughout the kitchen, not noticing his presence. He admired her freedom as she swayed and sang to songs he had  never heard of. As she turned around between the stove and the center island, she finally came face to face with him. She jumped, as she always did when she was taken by surprise. But this time, instead of lightly hitting him on the arm complaining about how he scared her as she through curses into the air, her eyes merely widened.

"Hi," he said, presenting the bouquet, "these are for you."

"You're home," she whispered, her eyes full of gratefulness, as she pulled him to her.

Home, he thought. Having her here felt like home. A reason to come back, a reason to wake up. She made this house feel like home. God, he didn't want that feeling to ever stop.

He returned her hug, "I told you I would be."

"Is everything okay?" She asked, stepping back from him.

"It will be, it wasn't as urgent as he made it sound. Your flowers madame." He once again presented them to her.

She graciously accepted them, "these are for me?"

"Just something almost as pretty as you."

She chuckled, "thank you, they're beautiful," she gazed at them for a little while, "I don't remember the last time I got flowers."

"You were going to marry a man who never brought you flowers?" He asked, half joking, half annoyed and hoping that maybe she was exaggerating.

"He always said he thought they were a waste because they die. He bought me all sorts of things, don't get me wrong, but, sometimes, flowers are just...nice." She smiled at the bouquet.

"You deserve flowers." His thoughts drifted slightly, she deserved flowers more than just because they're nice. She deserved flowers because she paralleled beauty with them, and she deserved flowers because they bloom into something beautiful when they're taken care of, and she deserved flowers simply because she wanted them. His mind ran rampant with the all the time Matt had with her for flowers, and here she stood in front of him, proclaiming she was flowerless. "Can I help you with anything?"

She placed the bouquet in the fridge, "you'll need to find me a vase," she smiled and then retreated back to the stove, "if you chop what's left on that cutting board, I can put it in the pan with the sauce I have on the stove and pop it in the oven!"

"I can do that."

He proceeded to take off his jacket, hanging it on the back of the chair at the counter. Then undid the buttons on his sleeves and rolled them up to his elbows, revealing his defined forearms. Fallon caught herself staring as he made easy work of chopping. She forced her mouth closed after she realized it had been slightly hanging open, and went back to stirring.

"Thank you for your help," she said, fearing looking at him would result in the same reaction as before.

"Thank you for making dinner," he completed his task, and carefully picked up the cutting board, walking it over to the stove. "Do you always listen to sex music when you cook?"

Fallon snorted, as she began to laugh at the comment, "what?" She stepped aside, allowing Trent access to the pot, tossing the chopped vegetables inside of it.

"This music, it's sex music," he laughed as he returned the cutting board to the counter.

"It is not!" She retorted, noticing that while her R&B playlist was perfect for cooking and slowly swaying around the kitchen, that he may have a point.

"What's this song called?" He leaned against the counter crossing his arms over his chest.

Fallon fumbled in her back pocket for her phone, consciously aware of Trent watching her. "It's called..." she trailed off and giggled.

"No, go ahead, I'm listening," he said smiling.

"It's called, 'Sweat'" she started laughing.

"Ya know what, I'll even give you that one, maybe they're talking about the gym, what's the next one?" The right corner of his mouth turned upwards.

She hit the 'next' button, a giggle once again escaping her, "Earned It, 50 Shades of Gray Version."

Trent shrugged, "one more, just for fun."

Again, she hit the button signaling a song change, "no, we're done, I owe you five dollars," she slid her phone back into her pocket, stirred the pot on the stove and proceeded to pour it over whatever had already started cooking in the oven. She set the timer and brought the pot to the sink.

"No, no, I gotta know." He pushed himself from the counter and reached for the phone on her pocket.

She spun around to dodge his grasp, "nope, all good."

The hand meant to grab her phone, now met the waist of her jeans, while the other gripped lightly at the counter on the opposite side of her. She took a few seconds to admire his forearms again, the map of veins that trailed up them slightly protruding as his hand flexed against the counter's edge. Her face was chest level with him, and she could once again smell his cologne, taking notice to the fact that what he said was only for a special occasion, he had worn each day she was here.

She could hear her heartbeat in her ears, the slow 'woosh' of the blood pumping, now mixing with the feeling of her breath quickening. Her head was a noisy place lately, and all the sounds were deafening. She glanced upwards, trying to catch a glimpse of Trent's face to attempt to read where his thoughts were right now. But instead, was met with the soft release of his hand on her waist and the relaxing of his hand against the granite counter top and as he slowly began to pull away from her.

Despite the noise in her head, and everything she had said to hold him at arm's length, it had been a struggle. To live in this house with him, be close enough to reach out and touch him and then recoil, to watch him leave each day for work, and worry until he returned, then having to hold back throwing her arms around him each evening, she had had enough. She knew she was merely biding time at this point. There had been enough exchanges and conversations with Matt throughout the time she had been here, she knew things were never going to be the same. It would never work. And she wasn't upset about it. There was no sadness in her heart or grand feelings of loss. Thoughts of Matt had become an annoying gnat that she could never catch or squash. But now it felt like she had the fly swatter ready, and it was only a matter of time before the obnoxious gnat that plagued her would no longer be a problem. She had already started imagining what that conversation would sounds like, preparing for the brunt of the blame, which was rightfully hers. But she felt like she was where she needed to be. Here. Home. With him.

"No," she grabbed at his hand he was pulling from her, finally catching his eyes. "Don't..." she placed it back in its original position on her waist. "Don't pull away from me," her words merely a whisper against the music still playing in the background.

There was a look of surprise and disbelief in his  eyes, as if she was trying to trick him, as if at the end of this she would scream 'ha ha got ya!' And walk away from him.

"You said,"

"I know, I know what I said," she nodded, her eyes still locked to his. "I've had enough time."

"Fal, don't choose me just because I'm here in front of you and you know how I feel. I shouldn't have done,"

"Stop," she shook her head, silencing him."I'm not," she made work of starting to undo the buttons of his shirt.

A part of him felt like he should pull back from her touch, but her porcelain skin against his was everything he'd been waiting for and everything he had been fighting off since their conversation. Now he was fighting back the urge to remind her of what they had done to make her have to make this choice in the first place. Every part of him felt like a match had been held to him and he had ignited in a way that felt wonderful, but dangerous. He knew what he would do for this girl, burn down cities, sink ships, and move mountains. There was nothing  and no one that would stand in the way of him loving her the way he should have years ago. Whatever carnage was left in the wake of him being with her would be taken care of as merely a casualty of the war he'd been fighting. She, was everything.

As she undid the last of the shirt buttons, untucked the rest of the bottom and started to snake her hands inside, he slid the tips of his fingers into her waistband and his other hand, no longer holding on to the counter, found its way to the nape of her neck. He loosely wrapped her hair around his hand and gently tugged on it, the moan that released from her, no doubt a visceral reaction.

He lightly planted three kisses along her neck, before stopping just below her ear. "Remember what I said about this being a dangerous game?" He whispered, her hair still pulled taut in his hand.

"Mhmm," she hummed, slightly fighting against his grip on her, causing him to let her go. She rested a hand on top of his, now fully inside the top of her jeans, waiting on permission to keep moving, and the other she wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling herself closer to him, giving his hand the leverage he so desperately wanted to give her the pleasure she seeking, "I wanna play it," she bit at her lip; though Trent had identified it as her nervous habit, she was full of confidence now. They were face to face, each of their breaths quickening, the longing that had been building between them, ready to crumble.

"You have no idea what I would do for you."

"We're gonna burn the world down, aren't we?" She smiled.

"Baby, if that's what you want I would light every match for you, one by one and let you set everything aflame."

"Everything?"

"Well, except these jeans," his cunning smile overtaking his face. "But you won't need them anymore, you're going to be so beautiful covered in the ash of the world that once was."