There is no chance
Title: There is no chance
Fandom: Lie to Me
Pairing: Lightman/Torres
Rating: Teen for implications of sex
Spoilers: Season 1 though its really an AU
Summary: Cal contemplates Ria during a 'typical' encounter
A/N: Inspired by the quote There's no sense in loving someone you can only wake up to by chance- Jeanette Winterson
Torres is getting dressed, her hair hiding her face. This much is on purpose. He knows. She wiggles into her pencil skirt, a soft woman of hard words and he is silent. Observant. But her actions display no anger, no sadness at the abrupt departure. She knows her audience.
She is learning. He forgets to be happy about that. It means she’s getting what she wants from him. Lessons in duplicity, the sex is secondary. He leans forward, closer on the bed. Into her line of sight. She lifts an eyebrow slowly.
“Anything else Mr. Lightman?” Lightman. Like its simple or clinical. Maybe it is. Nothing seems to reach her eyes and he wonders if he prefers this woman to the hotly impulsive upstart Gillian dragged in from the airport. This one, with the sleek straight hair and appropriate work clothing; she is a doll. He would be stupid if he did not see that. All measured glances and poses, her mouth a Kewpie moue. She has not questioned his motives nor his wants.
He really wants to hurt her father.
He only asked her once and it was all empty answers and vitriol. A way to assess her., to assuage his own ego.
She is still looking at him, still waiting for a reply. He smiles at her carefully blank face. She sees everything. Just not him. Not yet.
“No, luv.” A quick gesture with his fingers dismissal the slow slurring shift of his head away nonchalance
He doesn’t like either. Doesn’t feel either.
The bed dips below her weight. She touches his face with her working class palm. Too many hours with luggage while going nowhere but home. It’s all the baggage between that’s bugging him. Calluses fade.
“You never stop lying” It is a statement of fact. Real amusement colours her tone. Real. He sighs.
“Ria…” Her name shuts him out, the swift graceful retreat to distance, to Torres and triumph flooding her face.
It’s a bloody awful time to say ‘I love you’ when she’s undone two decades worth of self-deception with one touch.
Fandom: Lie to Me
Pairing: Lightman/Torres
Rating: Teen for implications of sex
Spoilers: Season 1 though its really an AU
Summary: Cal contemplates Ria during a 'typical' encounter
A/N: Inspired by the quote There's no sense in loving someone you can only wake up to by chance- Jeanette Winterson
Torres is getting dressed, her hair hiding her face. This much is on purpose. He knows. She wiggles into her pencil skirt, a soft woman of hard words and he is silent. Observant. But her actions display no anger, no sadness at the abrupt departure. She knows her audience.
She is learning. He forgets to be happy about that. It means she’s getting what she wants from him. Lessons in duplicity, the sex is secondary. He leans forward, closer on the bed. Into her line of sight. She lifts an eyebrow slowly.
“Anything else Mr. Lightman?” Lightman. Like its simple or clinical. Maybe it is. Nothing seems to reach her eyes and he wonders if he prefers this woman to the hotly impulsive upstart Gillian dragged in from the airport. This one, with the sleek straight hair and appropriate work clothing; she is a doll. He would be stupid if he did not see that. All measured glances and poses, her mouth a Kewpie moue. She has not questioned his motives nor his wants.
He really wants to hurt her father.
He only asked her once and it was all empty answers and vitriol. A way to assess her., to assuage his own ego.
She is still looking at him, still waiting for a reply. He smiles at her carefully blank face. She sees everything. Just not him. Not yet.
“No, luv.” A quick gesture with his fingers dismissal the slow slurring shift of his head away nonchalance
He doesn’t like either. Doesn’t feel either.
The bed dips below her weight. She touches his face with her working class palm. Too many hours with luggage while going nowhere but home. It’s all the baggage between that’s bugging him. Calluses fade.
“You never stop lying” It is a statement of fact. Real amusement colours her tone. Real. He sighs.
“Ria…” Her name shuts him out, the swift graceful retreat to distance, to Torres and triumph flooding her face.
It’s a bloody awful time to say ‘I love you’ when she’s undone two decades worth of self-deception with one touch.