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one shot for you guys. I haven't done one in a bit so I decided… why not now? :) precious one right here, too. I was in one of my moods… you know, the ones that make me all fluffy and stuff. Reviews are definitely loved.

"I'll pay for that."

Yes, that was the first time we met. He, with his azure eyes and me, with my empty wallet. He had been standing behind me, muttering about mocha v. java when I found myself cleaned out. And I really wanted that cappuccino…

I didn't deny his paying for me but I also did not say thank you. I didn't need anybodies help. But he didn't ask for my number. He didn't ask for me to sit with him. He just smirked at me and parted the shop with the words, "You're welcome, Princess."

No, I didn't appreciate the nickname.

The next time was in a sub shop.

I wanted fresh squeezed lemonade. This time, I had scrapped up enough money. Before I could hand the bills to the attendant, he steps in front of me. "Put it on my tab." He speaks, and the man nods at him.

So he has a tab here, I think. So he has done this for other women, I think.

This time, he sits with me. A lazy grin works at his face as I wait for him to say some cheesy pick up line or mention the money somehow.

"You know, you are rather lovely for someone so odd."

I raise a brow and hide my blush. "I'm odd?" I begin. "You are the odd ball, paying for all of my things. I didn't ask for your help."

"Doesn't mean you didn't need it." He offers. I stiffen. He simply chuckles at me.

He leaves with that same smirk. "Until next time, Princess." The growl is out of my throat before I can restrain myself.

It's at a bar when it happens again.

The ass had gotten there before me. I tried to act casual. But when my drink comes and they don't take the money I've sat on the table, the bartender points to the stools. "A young fellow said to give you whatever you want. It's on his tab."

It's been three months since the last time I saw him at the sub shop. You would have thought he had forgotten my face. But no. He is still smirking at me.

He comes to sit by me, and we chat for a moment.

"You are an ass. Leave me alone." I mutter.

He simply winks and takes a drag of his cigarette. "I'm not half bad once you know me. Or so I think. I simply believe you to be an utter killjoy."

My eye twitch is inevitable. His laugh rings through the air like bells.

He had me in bed by midnight.

Yes, we slept together after that night in the bar. It didn't take much. I don't feel proud about that fact.

But I don't regret the sex.

Oh, no, I never, ever… ever regretted that.

I wake up to find him sitting on the edge of the bed in slacks, shirtless, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he looks over some papers.

He has on glasses. It's odd.

That's when I finally take in our surroundings. It was dark the night before so I didn't get a chance. But now, I could see that the bed was huge. The room was huge. The view from the floor to ceiling window was magnificent.

Oh dear god, I think. He's filthy rich.

He turns to see me awake and smirks. "Morning, love." He starts, before reaching for me. "I must tell you… you are a spectacular romp." He merely chuckles as I hiss in his arms.

I did not want him to know the truth about me.

Duncan was different. He was successful, but he was kind. He was quiet, but he never made things awkward. He teased me, but he still called me beautiful.

He was an unusual specimen. But I enjoyed it. Very much so.

But I was not.

I was not well off. Working in a cubical and eating fast food was the best I could do. College sucked away nearly all my funds and attending classes made it hard to find time to sleep. I was a kid. Still only twenty. Still not understanding the world.

And I just didn't want him to realize that. Not yet.

We are in the store when I first laughed at him.

He was buying milk because the last time we woke up in bed I had been a bit on edge because I had to eat my Cheerio's dry. He is telling me about how his business is doing good, but that his secretary, a sad little fellow named Harold, is a bit of an ass hat at times.

"Always blundering on about nonsense instead of checking the accounts or answering phone calls. He blathers like a woman." I no longer take offense to comments like these due to the fact that Duncan says I am not like other women. I don't talk much, he says. I am not kindly fake like them, he says. I'm much more stubborn than most, he says.

"He's your secretary, and a colleague… you should beg him some pardon…" I say, and he frowns. I can't help but feel the corner of my mouth jerk up.

He's adorable when he pouts.

"Colleague, of course. He's eight years younger than me, for Christ sake."

"How old is he?"

"Same as you." He knows I've caught him! It's obvious by the way his mouth shuts like a fly trap as soon as the words leave his mouth.

"You're 28! Oh my lord!" Duncan has yet to tell me his age up to this point, and refuses to tell me. He claimed that I would find him-

"Old!" I chuckle. "You're so old! Almost 30!"

He scowls as I hang on to his arm, but I can sense the warmth that goes to his face when I tell him that it doesn't matter to me how old he is to me. It doesn't change the fact that he's my favorite person.

He continued to pay for everything.

Rather traditional, really, which was odd for him. He insisted that he pay, and it left me to wonder if he did it out of respect for a lover or simply if he assumed I was poor. He wouldn't have been wrong, anyhow.

But he did not figure out that I was in such bad shape until he surprised me.

We were in that same bar, simply going on about useless things, when he flips a coin. "What are you doing?" I roll my eyes when he winks.

"Heads… we get married."

I feel my blood run hot. Married?

"Tails… you move in."

He flips. He looks at me from under his lashes and exposes the coin. "Looks like your moving in."

I can't determine if I am disappointed or not with the outcome of the coin. Did I want to get married?

But I don't say no to him asking me to move in. It's been six months and it makes sense.

He asks for my address. I stiffened. I gave it to him anyway but decided I would just have a friend help me with the moving next weekend.

But when I wake up in his bed the next morning, he isn't there. I get a bowl of cereal and sit on the expensive couch in his ridiculously large living room with the ridiculously large plasma.

He told me once that this house was a bit lonely with just him and his work. He didn't say anything but simply touched my cheek and kissed my eyelids. I like to think maybe he isn't so lonely anymore. I know I wasn't.

I have already passed out on the couch when he gets back.

And when I see all the moving men bringing in boxes, I am beyond pissed.

He pulls me into another room due to my rage and tries to calm me down. It doesn't work. "You packed up my shit without me? You incredulous, abominable imbecile!"

"I just wanted to get you in here soon sweet heart."

"You couldn't have waited a few hours?" I yell.

He narrows his eyes. "I don't see what the big deal is, Princess, why are you so worked up?"

"I didn't want you to see where I lived, that's why." I mutter, feeling my face heat up. I turn away from him for fear of pity or something equaling demeaning to my pride. "I didn't want you to see my home. It was horrid. Awful… I just…"

"Courtney," he says softly, grabbing my hand and kissing a finger, "Courtney, look at me." He's using my name. I look up. I'm getting choked up.

His eyes are half lidded yet open. "Your home is wherever you wish it to be. Here… somewhere… anywhere." He smiles at me, not a smirk. "I'll do anything you want me to do. Be whatever you need me to be."

"But why?" I'm crying. It hurts. I realize, it's been years since I've cried like this.

Since I've cried at all.

"Because that's what you do for the one you are in love with, Courtney." I feel my limbs turn to jelly. Now I'm crying even more. "Because I love you, Princess… anything you need, anytime you need it, you can put it on my tab."

So this is what it feels like, I think. This is what they talk about, I think. Being in love is not like I thought it would be.

Instead, it's like being reborn.

He still pays for things. He would pay for everything if I didn't get on him for not letting me have the least bit of pride.

He paid for the ring too.

And the hospital bill when the baby was born.

And, that idiot, my idiot, still says the same damn thing every time we go out to eat, no matter if he has one or not- "Put it on my tab."

I'm almost positive he only does it because he thinks it will make me smile.

And I never disappoint.

-end-