Okay so I know this is a LITTLE OOC but I really tried to keep them in character, and I think I did good. This couple has been driving me nuts for days now so I thought I'd try my hand at a one-shot. Let me know if I did okay! Enjoy, please review!

There is a yearning, an empty hole inside him. They don't see it, the others. But she does. She sees it every time he growls when someone sits too close to him. She sees it when he begins to literally steam after someone touches him; sees it again when he shoves past her in the hallway, and for just a moment, their eyes connect, and she can see the glimmer of something in the depths of his burning irises.

So she when they are alone, she sits as close to him as she can; elbows brushing sporadically. She ignores his gruff attitude, the huffs and puffs; attempts to push her away, scare her off. And, she touches him as often as she can, casually. She ignores the growing heat underneath her palm, relishes it. Pulling away only when the pain peaks, and she knows there might be damage should she hold on any longer.

He gives her a look. He says nothing, and his face is as expressionless as always, but she sees that something again. So she smiles, waves her hand a little to shake off the sting; to let him know she's just fine. And blathers on about the latest causes she has taken up. He doesn't interrupt.

He doesn't flinch away when her elbow bumps his every now and then as she gestures wildly with her hand, about saving the dolphins, and whales. She's not sure what she's talking about anymore, but she sees his head tilt imperceptibly towards her voice, sees the book in his hands dip slightly downwards as his attention focuses on her inane words a little more than on the undoubtedly more eloquent ones in his copy of some famous, old piece of literature.

And she sees that something again in his eyes when he turns to her and raises an eyebrow at something she has just blurted out, that more than likely made no sense. But she can't bring herself to care. She's too busy wondering what it is. That something flashing at her, behind the amusement in his eyes.

It is at the Paper Lantern, a random Tuesday night when she asks him what it is. He has just refilled her glass of sweet tea for the fourth time. She's been sitting there in that back corner booth, thinking about it.

"Warren?"

His head lifts and his eyes focus on hers. They are cautious and as indecipherable as always. But if she looks hard enough she can catch a glimpse of it, flickering in the back of his eyes. The longer she stares the brighter it gets, until she has to look away because she doesn't have to ask anymore. Because she knows now, and she feels stupid. Like she should have seen it sooner.

And then she feels it. His fingers under her chin, warm and insistent. She complies, head tilting upwards, chagrin written on her face. Blood pools at the tips of her cheekbones, and her mouth is dry.

Yet still, she gathers the words up in her heart, and lets them spill from her numb lips.

"Why didn't you say something?"

"I thought I had."

And she understands. Those looks were for her. The others don't see it because it wasn't meant for them. Because they didn't know him, like she did. It was all hers. He was all hers. He moves his fingers from under her chin and threads them into her curly, red tresses as he kneels before her.

His face is blank, unwavering. But that's what everyone else sees. She sees the vulnerability, the question in his eyes. And when the tears slide past her lids and cascade down her still bright cheeks, she nods, and the question is answered. He smiles at her, teeth white and blinding against the slight tan of his skin and that something flashes in his eyes again.

Only this time, she knows what it is. And she doesn't have to wonder, because as he leans forward and touches his lips to hers, warm and pliant; she realizes she feels the same way.

Their eyes stay open, as he touches his tongue to her lower lip, asking for entry, and she allows it. She tries to tell him with her eyes, bare her soul, let him see that something in her this time. When his eyes flash lightly before closing, and he gathers her into his arms and cradles her like the most precious thing he's ever held, he is telling her he understands.

She hears it when he breathes her name in that tone, with that something behind it, "Layla."

I love you.

I love you too.

So, yeah. I hope everyone followed that without difficulty, if not PM me if you have questions or you are confused. I hope you liked it! Please REVIEW! Tell me if I should do a Warren-Layla story or just a little five-shot or something. I am obsessed with Steven Strait and there was way too much chemistry between these two in the movie, but that's Disney for you. Oh well, REVIEW!