A/N: Chronologically, this story takes place after my Christmas fic, Breaking Free, but should stand well on its own also. Enjoy! (P.S. People should write more for this pairing.)

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"My leg hurts," Ryan announced. He took a peek at Valera, who was comfortably cocooned against him on the couch. No response. He tried again. "My leg hurts."

Valera shrugged, attention focused on the television. "Tough."

Ryan groaned. "I don't know why you insist on going to this stupid party."

Valera sat up and looked down at him. "C'mon, Ryan, it'll be fun!"

"I'm injured," he whined, clutching his knee to his chest to emphasize his point.

Valera rolled her eyes. "Well, I wanna go."

"So go!" he replied, releasing his leg. "I don't see why I have to make an appearance."

Valera smiled and patted his cheek. "When I'm on my fifth drink and it's ten seconds to midnight and some gross guy with bad breath approaches me for the New Year's kiss, your lack of presence might be a problem."

Ryan closed his eyes, feeling a headache coming. "Whatever," he mumbled dismissively. "If you're on your fifth drink, you probably won't remember in the morning."

Immediately, Ryan knew he had said the wrong thing. Valera tensed up, and her hand snapped away from his face. He felt her get up off the couch, and when he opened his eyes, she was already out of sight.

Ryan sat up and used his arms to readjust his leg. He could hear banging from the kitchen – not good – and he stood up, favoring his bad leg. He found that he could walk without his crutches, so he hopped over to the kitchen.

Valera was rummaging through a cabinet, and when she heard him approach, she began banging louder, making metal clash against each other in an angry battle of pots and pans.

Ryan was ready to take his chances. Carefully, he limped over. He wanted to cover his ears, but he knew that would be the equivalent of a death sentence, and he was way too young to die. Ryan reached out an arm, but as soon as his hand landed on Valera's elbow, she shook it off defiantly. However, she did cease the banging and with a deep breath, quietly closed the cupboard door.

Ryan allowed a few moments to pass before he tried speaking. "I'm sorry," he said in his gentlest voice, his hand finding her arm again. Valera still refused to look at him, but he took it as a good sign that she hadn't pushed his hand away again. "Maxine," he reiterated, "I'm sorry."

Slowly, Valera turned to look at him and was momentarily struck by how guilty he looked. Even so, she frowned. "It's not okay," she said stubbornly.

Ryan nodded. "I know. I didn't mean that, okay?" He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Please don't be mad," he added. "I'll go anywhere you want tonight."

Valera smiled slightly. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he replied, nodding again, "anywhere." He smiled. "Just name it."

Valera tilted her head to study him for a moment, then grinned widely. "Okay, get in the car," she said, rushing out of the kitchen.

"Hey, wait!" Ryan cried, limping out after her. "Handicapped here!"

-/-/-

Ryan tapped rhythmically against the dashboard, leg uncomfortably squeezed into the passenger's side seat. He peered at Valera, but she was focused on the road. A road that, despite having been on patrol for a year, he barely recognized. It was definitely not in the direction of the party Valera had been so intent on attending.

Ryan cleared his throat. "So are you gonna tell me where we're going?"

Valera smiled. "Nope."

Ryan looked out the window and frowned into the darkness. "Come on, just a hint?"

"Am I going to have to blindfold you?" she asked suggestively, turning for a moment to waggle her eyebrows at him.

He chuckled nervously. Wasn't going there, he decided as he shifted his weight on the seat and readjusted his seat belt. Wanted to, but now was definitely not the time, especially if wherever she was taking them had other people present.

He shut up and thought about not being blindfolded until Valera pulled off the service road.

A few minutes later, Valera parked her car and stepped out, and Ryan hurried to do the same. He was getting used to hobbling along without his crutches, so he left them in the car and looked around.

She had brought them to the beach. A really secluded strip of sand that he wasn't sure he trusted. He trusted Valera, but the places she'd been? Not so much. After all, it was New Year's Eve and this was a random piece of the beach that was completely uninhabited. He looked around suspiciously and finally deemed the location free of junkies and prostitutes, which freed his mind to absorb how beautiful it was.

"Maxine," he breathed. He looked over at her, and she was smiling at the ocean. He touched her arm. "But the party…"

She shrugged. "You don't wanna go."

He frowned. "Valera, we can go. I'll enjoy it, I swear."

"Nah, I just want to spend New Year's with you," Valera said softly. Immediately, she made a face. "Ugh, that was so lame."

Ryan shook his head so hard that he could almost feel his brain shifting up there. "No, no, that was very, very not lame, 'cause that's all I want, too." He steadied himself and softened his voice. "Hey," he said to catch her attention. Leaning in to steal a few quick kisses, he added, "Thank you."

Valera shrugged, a little flustered, and Ryan thought that her inability to communicate her feelings was the cutest thing about her. Lethal, but still adorable. He watched as she opened her trunk and pulled out a few blankets, a bottle of wine and a corkscrew.

"Come here," she said as she closed the trunk and began walking off. Ryan followed as quickly as his bad leg was letting him, still thinking that Valera was acting a little off. He eyed the blankets suspiciously, and the thought that she had brought him here to murder him in cold blood crossed his mind. Even without his sprained ankle, he was pretty sure he couldn't take on Valera when she was armed with blankets and a bottle. And lord knows how dangerous corkscrews could be.

Finally, Valera found a nice spot on the sand – curved concavely to create a makeshift seat – and laid down one of the blankets. "Sit."

Ryan watched her smooth out the edges and grinned. "You planned this!"

Her head snapped up. "No, I didn't," she denied.

"Well," he replied, motioning toward the blankets, "you were prepared."

"Only 'cause it took you twenty minutes to get ready," she huffed. "You're the biggest girl ever."

"Or the biggest handicap?" he suggested, gaping at her. He stuck out his bad leg, balancing precariously on the other. "My leg's broken!"

"Ankle's sprained," she corrected, feigning annoyance. "Don't exaggerate."

Valera took a seat on the blanket and used the other to cover her legs. She leaned back, and the angle at which the sand lay had put her in more of a lounge-chair position. She patted the ground next to her and looked up at Ryan. He shuffled his feet, then positioned himself next to Valera on the blanket, hip to hip. He pulled the second blanket that covered Valera's legs over his own and leaned back as well. He smiled when Valera rested her head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry I threw a tantrum earlier," she mumbled.

Ryan turned to kiss the top of her head. "I deserved it."

"Yeah," she nodded, "you did."

Ryan chuckled and leaned his head against hers. Unfortunately, Valera chose that exact moment to spring her own head off his shoulder, which resulted in the two bonking heads with a loud crack.

"Ow!" Ryan cried, his hand going to clutch his forehead dramatically.

Valera seemed unfazed. Either her skull was made of rock or Ryan was being a baby.

"Ryan, you're being a baby," Valera declared. She watched him writhe in pain for a moment, then reached over to pull his hand away from his forehead. "You okay?" she asked gently. When he didn't respond, she leaned over and planted a soft kiss against his temple. "Better?"

Ryan tried to hide his grin and nodded. "Better."

Valera picked up the bottle of wine and popped it open with the corkscrew. She brought it to her lips, tilted and took a quick drink. "Want some?" she asked, holding it out to Ryan.

"No cups?" he asked, eyeing the bottle cautiously. "My OCD is going to have a fit in the corner."

Valera rolled her eyes. "Cute," she quipped as she handed him the bottle.

Ryan took a sip and passed it back to Valera. The two silently alternated in this way until the bottle was nearly completely drained, and it was peaceful to just sit there and admire the ocean, the occasional light that beamed across the water, the stillness of the night. Valera found that she didn't need big lavish parties to be happy on New Year's Eve. She leaned her head on Ryan's shoulder again.

"What time is it?" she asked, feeling a really nice hum from the alcohol.

He shrugged his shoulders, causing her head to rise and fall. "I don't know."

"Ryan," she urged, "check the time."

He picked up his wrist and brought it up to his face. He squinted, but couldn't make out where the hands sat. "I can't see it," he announced.

Valera gripped his arm and pulled it awkwardly toward her face. "Don't you have one of those glowy things?" she asked as she peered uselessly at his wrist.

"That's scientific, Valera," he mocked, reclaiming his arm. "And no, I don't have one of those glowy things."

She frowned. "How are we gonna know when it's midnight?"

"I think it's midnight now," he replied, trailing his thumb along her jaw until he touched lip and replacing his hand with his mouth. He allowed his fingers to trail down her arm as he kissed her, and it was soft and sensual, rare wherever Valera was concerned. Her hands found the back of his neck and scratched gently, and he dipped his tongue between her lips, momentarily tasted the wine they'd shared before drawing it back out and pulling away.

Even in the darkness, he sensed satisfaction.

Valera smiled. "You just did that so you could kiss me!" she complained good-naturedly.

Ryan grinned. "Maybe."

"It's not midnight yet," she protested.

"Which just means I get another kiss when it is," he shot back with a wink that he was sure she couldn't see.

Valera shook her head and felt around for his wrist again. "Not unless you fix the glowy thing on your watch."

Ryan took hold of her wandering hand and squeezed it tightly. "Don't have one," he replied lazily, letting his head fall to Valera's shoulder.

Valera watched him lie there for a while, and though she could barely make out his features in the dark, she sensed a calm that she hadn't felt in years. She swatted at his chest for no reason at all.

"We have to make resolutions," she announced suddenly.

Ryan groaned and nuzzled his face against Valera's neck. "Nobody keeps their resolutions anyway."

"Oh, c'mon, Ryan," Valera whined, pushing his head away. "You're such a party pooper. Just make one!"

"Okay, okay, I resolve to not piss you off anymore," he said without much fanfare.

Valera raised an eyebrow. "That's pretty ambitious," she teased.

"I'm an overachiever," Ryan replied proudly. "Alright, your turn."

Valera sat in silence for a moment, then declared, "I resolve to watch less porn."

Ryan's jaw dropped. "W-What?" he stuttered. "But my resolution benefits you," he pointed out, trying not to sound like a whiny five-year-old.

"So?"

"So yours doesn't benefit me," he replied, hinting obviousness. He sulked. "I take back my resolution," he added firmly.

Valera scoffed. "You can't do that!"

"Says who?" Ryan asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Says the…" Valera waved her arms around in the air. "The resolution police!"

Ryan bit the inside of his cheek. "And what does the resolution police have to say about your resolution?"

"That it's awesome," Valera replied seriously. She landed a kiss on the corner of his lips and lowered her voice. "Besides, my resolution benefits you, too."

"How's that?"

Valera pushed herself up and threw a leg over Ryan's lap, blanket tossed aside, and lowered her lips to his neck. "Less porn; more improvisation," she murmured against his skin.

"Valera," he groaned, his hand instinctively going to her hip and pulling her closer. "Valera," he tried again, rationalizing with himself more than her, "we're in public."

Valera paused her actions for a moment to look at him, bewildered. "So?"

"So we could get caught?" he suggested.

She smiled. "I guess we'll have to be quick," she whispered, returning to the task at hand. She was straddling him now, as she nipped along his jaw line and neck, eliciting little throaty noises that she would remember to tease him about later. Her fingers worked his shoulders, pressing him back down as he instinctively attempted to lift himself up and further close the distance.

"My ankle…" he mumbled, hands wandering to her thighs. He gave her a gentle nudge and tried again. "Valera, I can't do this with a sprained ankle."

But Valera ignored him and he couldn't find the willpower to repeat his words, so he went with it for a few minutes, reveled in the feel of her lips against his skin, and he decided that damn, crazy or not, Valera was certainly… experienced.

Which led him on a different thought process altogether. As good as it felt, this wasn't what he sought from her, he realized. She wasn't another Erica or Stephanie or Louise. This was Valera, so incredibly different from anyone he'd ever dated, so insane but so honest and real, and he'd never felt butterflies quite like these before.

Only a week, and it felt like he'd known her this way all his life. Far from perfect or even conventional, it was the craziest and most beautiful thing he'd ever been a part of. And because of that, even though he'd never been one for romantic ideals, he wanted their first time to be something to write songs about, not a quickie on the beach in which he had to stop every ten seconds to complain about his leg.

"Hang on," Ryan protested, suddenly panicked, and with a strength he didn't know he had, pushed himself up to a sitting position. He tucked his head beneath Valera's chin and breathed hard. "Maxine, hang on," he reiterated, "I just don't—" He swallowed, feeling slightly embarrassed. His head was spinning, a mixture of alcohol and exhilaration. "I don't want to rush things," he admitted, hands tightening against her hips. He pulled her closer and breathed in her scent. She smelled so soft and gentle and so unlike Valera, but he thought that it was the most incredible duality. Everything about her fascinated him. He felt her muscles relax, and he breathed a sigh of relief. "It's only been a week and—"

Valera blinked. "You know chivalry doesn't win you any points with me, right?"

"I'm not doing this to be chivalrous," he replied seriously. He pulled back and tugged awkwardly at the material of her pants. "I really like you, Max."

"Oh."

Ryan's heart dropped. "Oh God," he said, covering his eyes in horror and embarrassment, "this was just a Christmas thing for you."

Valera shook her head aggressively as the implications of his words dawned on her. "No, no. Ryan, it's not," she replied, but that didn't seem to make him feel better. She leaned over and kissed him slowly, long and attentive, trying to show him everything she had so much trouble expressing. She knew by his reaction that with one misplaced syllable, she'd hurt him, and she was surprised to feel a little bit of his pain as well. She pulled back and rested her forehead against his, smiled softly even though his eyes were still closed. She squeezed a hand between their faces and rolled a fingertip from the bridge of his nose down to the tip. "Hey," she heard herself saying, "you're more than that, okay?"

And she was shocked by how true that was. She'd fallen for him. Ryan. She would've never figured, but now that she'd had a taste, she couldn't imagine anything else, anybody else. It was a little frightening, because he was so dysfunctional and she so capricious, but it fit. They fit.

"Okay?" she urged again, all seriousness.

He nodded slowly, understood that it was mutual. He lay back again and pulled her down with him, and she dragged the forgotten blanket over their bodies. She lay there, ear against his chest, and listened to his heartbeat until it lulled her to the edge of slumber.

Before sleep completely overtook her, she squeezed Ryan's arm and made another resolution. A real one.