Pairing: Wes Mitchell/Alex MacFarland

Rating: PG

Background: Set during Wes and Alex's college years. We got so little on their backstory, so I decided to make something up. Please enjoy.

Summary: He wondered how he had gone an entire semester without ever noticing her.

. . .

Wes stared out at a cluster of trees across the street from the coffee shop and tried with all his might not to let that stare turn into a glare. The maples were dead and bare—their leaves had abandoned them completely a few weeks ago—but they still didn't fit in with this landscape and that annoyed him. There should be freezing temperatures and falling snow. It was December, for god's sake. How was it barely below fifty? None of this fit.

Or, maybe it did fit. Maybe he only thought the trees and the weather and the temperature didn't fit in because he was the one looking at them, and it was he, in truth, who didn't fit here. Didn't fit in at all. And that didn't annoy him; it pissed him off.

What was the only thing keeping him here, school? Who cared? He could go to school anywhere! …Well, he could've gone to school anywhere. But no, he'd been an idiot, and more focused on getting away than how he'd feel once he was gone. He'd pushed aside the other offers because they were too close to home, and now he regretted it.

He thought California would be a welcome radical change, but so far it was anything but. The first term had been fine enough, but now—

"Wes?"

"Yeah?" he snapped, turning around at once, both surprised and annoyed to hear his name being called. He didn't remember seeing anyone he recognized in the small coffee shop. Nor did he like standing around talking to people in places this small and loud and cramped.

The woman he was met with, however, didn't look familiar to him at all. He knew he would've taken notice of her—of her long, dark hair, and her strong, wide jawline, and especially her pale, untanned skin—because she looked so little like anyone else around, but she didn't ring a bell in his mind. Privately, he wondered where she was from. Did she go to Stanford too? Her light blue eyes—almost the color of frosted glass—met his as she hooked her thumb over her shoulder. "They're calling your name at the counter."

He looked past her, confused for a moment, but quickly pieced everything together. He'd nearly forgotten why he was here. "Thanks," he told her quickly, making an effort to soften his voice this time, as he already regretting snapping at her before, and slipping by to grab the coffee that a disgruntled-looking barista was holding out for him. He thanked her, too, but she turned away without another word to the rest of the customers piling up in front of the register. He could swear he heard her mutter something along the lines of Damn law students before she went back to her post.

When he turned back around, the woman who'd pointed out his drink to him was still standing there. He smiled at her, thanking her again, and held out his free hand. "I'm Wes."

She smiled back, laughing quietly as she shook his hand. "Yeah, I know," she told him. "We were in the same Civil Procedure class last semester."

What? He blinked."We were?" he had to ask, his mind racing as he struggled to remember. Civil Procedure. He'd had that on Mondays and Wednesdays, at nine, with Professor Keller. He'd sat in the front, on the right side. Where had she been? He should've noticed her. He would've noticed her. "I don't remember seeing you…"

"Oh." She chuckled lightly, almost like she was amused, but then she looked away from him less than a second later, and he realized—too late—that he'd insulted her. "Well…" He could see her getting ready to step away.

"Wait," he tried to explain, not wanting her to go just yet, especially not after he'd embarrassed her. He still didn't even know who she was. "I only meant—"

"No, it's okay." She brushed him off, still turning away, but thankfully not yet walking out. (That was kind of hard to do when there were people surrounding them on all sides.) "Don't worry about it. I know Keller can kind of put you in a daze with his lecturing."

Wes grinned, nodding along. "Very true." There had been more than a couple occasions where he—even after having his morning coffee and being awake for an hour or two before class—had been in danger of falling asleep during one of Professor Keller's horribly monotonous lectures. "The man really should try inserting a joke now and again."

"Or at least changing his tone of voice," she added.

"No, no, some kids might die of shock," he joked. Out of the corner of his eye, Wes caught her smiling. It made him smile, too. "So—I'm sorry—but I didn't catch your name…?"

"Alex MacFarland."

He nodded, wishing he was able to say the name sounded familiar. "So, uh, what's your concentration?" he wondered. Though it was usually a generic question, he found himself genuinely interested in her answer. When he looked at people, or talked to them for a couple minutes, he could usually tell what they were interested in pursuing once they passed the bar. But her… He couldn't even come up with a guess. She looked like she could do anything.

"Well, I want to go into civil law eventually, once I pass everything. Beyond that, I'm not really sure what I really want to narrow it down to yet… I might play the field for a while." She tucked some hair behind her ear. Wes noticed the way she looked at the floor beneath them as she did so, and he wondered if fixing her hair was a nervous tick. If so, it was a very cute nervous tick. "What about you?" she wondered suddenly, looking back up. "What type of law are you thinking of heading into?"

"Criminal," Wes answered at once, accustomed to the question and in the habit of giving a quick answer. Her eyes went a little wide as she took that in. "What?" he wondered, unable to help himself from feeling a little self-conscious in front of her. That's what you get for trying to check her out, he thought to himself, hoping she hadn't noticed. "Something wrong with that?"

"Not at all," Alex answered. "I'm just a little surprised, is all. I didn't peg you for criminal law."

"What did you peg me for?" Wes couldn't help but ask. He didn't usually care much about other people's opinions of him—especially not some of the pompous jerks here—but something about her made him genuinely interested, and invested, in what she had to say.

But she refused to answer, shaking her head, either unwilling to share or embarrassed of her assumption. Though he wanted to, he held back from pressing her. Maybe he didn't have to know that badly.

"Well," he said, not wanting to let the silence linger, "I guess I should go. I have class—"

"Right," she nodded, immediately understanding, and taking as much of a step back as she could in the crowded room. "Well, I'll see you, then… Maybe we'll have some other classes together sometime," she added with a quick smile.

He knew she was probably just being polite, saying that, but he couldn't help but take her words at face value. He responded in kind: "I sure hope so," he told her, and meant it. "Maybe—" he scratched the back of his neck, already embarrassed for bringing it up again "—Maybe I won't overlook you next time."

"That would be nice." The warm smile that turned up the corners of her lips suggested that it might be something more than nice.

Or maybe he was just reading too much into it. He hardly knew her, after all.

"Well…" She adjusted her purse on her shoulder, and shifted her own coffee from one hand to another. She was getting ready to leave, too, and he suddenly felt the urge to keep her here with him, even just for a couple more minutes. Even if it made him late for class. "I should—"

"What are you doing at nine?" The words were out of his mouth before he was even completely sure what he was doing with them. But she was standing there, staring at him, waiting for an explanation, and he had to continue: "I, uh… It's just that my class is over at nine. I was wondering if, maybe if you aren't doing anything, would you like to meet me here around then?"

The few seconds it took for her to process his muddled questions and come up with an answer felt like an eternity to Wes.

"I… I don't like to drink coffee at night," she finally told him. She bit her lip while she said it, as if she felt bad for doing so. "Not, you know, not unless I have to study."

We could pretend you have to study, Wes almost said, but swallowed it down at the last second. It ended up sounding kind of like some weird come-on, and with her already saying no, and leaving, he didn't want to make her go running and screaming. "Well—Well, we don't have to have coffee," he came up with quickly, hoping to save himself. "I was just thinking—maybe we could talk? I could make up for not noticing you?"

"I think you've already done that," she replied dryly. Luckily, the smile hinting at the edge of her lips let him know she was teasing. "But… talking more sounds…" Her eyes lingered on his as she searched for the word. He wondered if she thought she could find it there; he wondered what she saw when she looked at him. "It sounds nice," she finally finished, and he couldn't help but notice how much softer her voice was now. And how her eyes hadn't looked away from his.

Maybe she liked what she saw.

He certainly did.

He phone rang in his pocket just then, and he instinctually grabbed it, looking down. It was nothing important—just his alarm, telling him he would be late to class if he didn't leave right now—and he looked back up at once. He took a breath of relief when she was still standing there, and hadn't slipped away while he'd been preoccupied. "I have to go. But I'll—I'll see you here at nine, then?" He couldn't help himself from smiling as he asked.

"Sure." She nodded, and he was graced with her pretty smile again as she agreed, "Nine it is."

He grinned, loitering one last moment in her presence, before reluctantly stepping away and making his way through the crowded coffee shop back outside. Reflexively, he looked over his shoulder, back to her, once he was out on the street, but he couldn't see much. He only caught a glimpse of her blue eyes and her dark hair once again before the never-ending crowd of students swallowed her up. He wondered if her hidden mouth had been smiling smiling, and as he jogged across the street and headed back towards campus, he found himself imagining that she had been.

He passed the same trees he'd been glaring at before on his way to class, but he hardly noticed them now. It didn't seem to matter anymore that the air wasn't the right temperature, or that there wasn't snow on the ground, or that he was hundreds of miles from home.

He was going to see her at nine.

. . .

Author's Note: This was my first-ever try with Wes and Alex, and I'd love to know how it went! We got so little backstory on them, and I liked to explore a time when they were happy and together. Thank you so much for reading. :) I hope to write a lot more of them in the future.

Reviews would make my day!