I stand at the door, a familiar smirk playing on my lips and a bottle of wine in hand. The last time I knocked like this, it was to make amends for a stupid argument. It is a little different now.

As the door swings open, my eyes widen in surprise at the sight of Alexia, as if I hadn't expected her to exist. Before I can utter a word, her grin matches mine and she pulls me into a tight hug. The bottle presses between us uncomfortably but it is easy to ignore it. Everything else seems to melt away.

"I missed you," Alexia says softly, though her voice is filled with excitement. Her breath tickles my ear but I do not let go of her. "Earlier was torture. All I wanted to do was hug you."

"I noticed the jealousy," I tease, voice slightly muffled by her head. At the airport, she had glared hard at Mapi, who must have known what couldn't happen and decided to rub it in by squeezing me until I was on the verge of suffocating. I breathe in the scent of her perfume, subtle and lingering on the hoodie she is wearing. "I missed you too."

"Good. I almost convinced myself I was going crazy."

"You're not."

She has the opportunity to say something, but she lets it slip past her as her hand slides between us and her fingers curl over where mine are gripping the neck of the bottle. Alexia takes a step back, allowing me inside – barely over the threshold, though. The bottle is pulled from me and placed on the floor, and I am still working out what she is going to do next when she shuts her door and presses me against it.

"Hug me, huh?" I quote her words from only a second ago.

She steps into my space, hands firmly holding my waist. "Maybe something else, also." I kiss her, neither of us need more prompting than that.

Her lips work slowly but the kiss deepens all the same, with a striking inevitability that is only heightened by my travelling hands. She groans as I reach underneath her t-shirt, one hand splaying against her back to pull her into me and the other grazing the ridges of her stomach with the intention of heading straight into her bedroom. It begins as something pleasurable, until the low sound morphs into an impatient whine.

Alexia stops.

"Would you like a drink?" Mildly dazed, by both the kiss and the abrupt end to it, I nod slowly. She bends down to the bottle and plucks it from the floor, sauntering towards her kitchen as though it is not a strange thing for her to do at all. "Fleur," she calls from metres away. I look up, blinking. "You're not made of stone. Come over here."

The apartment is not well-lit, but that is to be expected at this time of night. Distracted by the action of earlier, I had failed to notice the music in the background, but it is clearer now. Something soft – something that sounds like warm socks and plumped cushions at any volume you turn it up to. It strikes me that Alexia must seek comfort like most of us do. I am sometimes too swept up in my own battle with the human condition to realise that everyone else is in the same boat, as Jaimie loves to remind me.

"So," she says as I lean against the worktop, propping my body up on one elbow and admiring her as she unscrews the cork, "tell me about England. I'll tell you about Mexico, if you haven't heard about it already from Esmee. For me, it was almost like a crash course in therapy. Pina was – is – inconsolable, and it is awful to comfort someone when you know the other person is not in the same state. There is no way that Talia is sobbing herself silly in London."

"We all deal with things differently." It is hard to gauge whether or not I hear bitterness in her voice. "And England was nice. Boring, if anything. A good way to miss out on preseason."

"As your captain, I'd say it is really not acceptable to miss out on preseason, you know." She hands me a glass, crimsoned with wine from Stellenbosch, and I take an experimental sip. She does the same, and moans in delight. "You did not choose this," she is quick to decide. It is a little offensive.

"Jaimie did."

"You asked Jaimie what wine to bring me?"

I shrug. "I know how you guys are with it."

"Next time, I will think long and hard about the selection of beer in my fridge," she jokes easily, laughing with me as I squint my eyes and try to imagine what the inside of said fridge looks like right now. I'd quite like to know everything about her. "Anyway, as I was saying: skipping preseason is laziness I do not tolerate. But"–there is always a but–"as someone who enjoys drooling over that Calvin Klein shoot, I can hardly complain."

"You liked it?" I ask with a smirk, knowing full well what her answer will be. She has told me many times already. In fact, a lot of people have expressed their appreciation for it. None have been as valuable as Alexia's, of course. "They gave me the option, you know. Shirt on or off."

"And thank God you said 'off'."

This time, it is only me that laughs, and it is a lot cockier than that of amusement. I raise my glass, lifting it up by the stem as she straightens her body, standing upright. Quietly, she touches her own to mine, and then kisses me again, pulling away before anything more can come of it.

The dance continues as the bottle grows lighter. We end up entangled on the sofa after swaying to the music. She had changed the playlist for us to do this, and I discovered that tipsy Alexia is a lot more open to things than her sober counterpart.

Her legs drape themselves over mine, and she brings both her hands to my face. "You're so beautiful." It is not the first of these compliments. My head spins once, and then my stomach flips at the idea of being flirted with. "Before, I used to stare at you a lot. Well, I'd call it 'examining', Mapi would call it 'staring'. I used to watch how you stood, or walked, or spoke to the other girls as they begged at your feet for your attention. Everyone loves you, Fleur. You don't seem like you quite understand that."

"Because it isn't true," I answer with a smile, wrapping my fingers around her wrists. Alexia rolls her eyes. "Because then I would be an ego-maniac," I try a second time.

"Very humble. Very unlike you."

"I can be humble!"

"Yeah?" she challenges. The music drums onwards as she sits up. "If I told you everything I find attractive about you, would you be able to contain yourself?"

"Why don't you find out?"

Alexia grins, her eyes filled with playful mischief. "Alright then, brace yourself," she says, leaning in closer. "First of all, it is the way your eyes light up when you are passionate about something. It is like watching the universe unfold."

I feign modesty, trying to keep a straight face. "Well, I can't help it if the universe gets excited about the things I love."

She chuckles, tracing a finger along my jawline. "And you are clever; maybe the most intelligent on the team. It is like you have a library inside your head."

"I just retain things," I excuse, trying my very best not to accept the compliment.

"Then there is your determination," she continues. "It is good, in this profession, to have goals and to work towards them. But you, you are... relentless in all aspects of life. You are kind in a forceful, firm way. Not begrudging, but not like how Ingrid is kind. It's a sort of quiet thing about you, as though you only do it when no one is watching."

"But you are watching," I breathe, my grip on her wrists loosening. Her sincerity catches me off guard, and I find myself genuinely touched. "Like a stalker," I add, fighting a losing battle.

She pulls her hands away, and they settle either side of my shoulders. "At least try to play, Fleur," she grumbles as I smirk. I quickly straighten my lips, clearing my throat. Then, Alexia leans in even closer, her lips barely a breath away from mine. "But I think, above everything, it is how you look at me," she whispers, her gaze intense. "I am not a stranger to being the most important person in the room, but you change the meaning of that. As though the only thing that matters to me, is how you see me. And you make me feel... hot."

I swallow. Hard.

"I am pretty incredible," I croak out, completely betrayed by my mouth as it dries.

Her smile bursts onto her features, wide and victorious. "Point to me," she gloats.

"Best of three?"

Alexia's fingers return to my jawline, their trail continuing as they graze lightly over my lips. The atmosphere shifts, and I try not to squirm under the tension. "You have a certain intensity," she purrs, her voice dropping to a sultrier tone. I decide that learning Spanish has been one of the best things I have ever done.

"Care to elaborate?" I raise an eyebrow.

Her lips curl into a dangerous smile. "When you look at me, you do not just look. Your eyes linger, and you take. You memorise me."

"You are very observant."

She is practically on top of me now, and I breathe in only to be consumed by her. Wine, long gone, and soap and perfume. "When you touch me..." Her fingers intertwine with my own, sending shivers down my spine. "Well, it is more than that. It feels like a promise, as though you know how much I... crave you."

Suddenly, the room is sweltering but I am not at liberty to cool myself down. "Maybe you are reading too much into things," I tease, but my attempt at nonchalance falters entirely as her proximity becomes increasingly intoxicating. As she lifts herself up, onto my lap. As she settles, completely straddling me.

"That is not true, and you know it," she replies, her breath teasing against my ear.

My body pulses with the rhythm of the music, my heartbeat thudding in a pool of simmering desire. With a knowing smile, Alexia closes the small distance between us, capturing my lips in a kiss that ignites a blazing fire within.

Time seems to slow, and I beg her silently to not end this like the other had. She hears my plea loud and clear, and it is easy to forget where I am the minute her tongue parts my lips and pushes into my mouth with as much desperation as I reciprocate with.

Her fingers trace a tantalising path down my neck, leaving a burning trail in their wake. Every touch is like the promises she described, inviting more after every soft caress. My hands find their way to the small of her back, pulling her closer.

I gasp into her mouth as her hips slowly grind into me. "So, so good," I groan in encouragement.

She breaks the kiss. She looks into my eyes. "Two points to me."

I can't help but smile. "I give up. I can't contain myself around you, Alexia." I was never going to win this game, a fact she would always have been aware of. Which one of us is the least humble now? "I don't want to pretend it is possible."

"I used all my tricks," she quietly admits as I run my hands up and down her sides. "You did alright." Her nose scrunches as she remembers something she has forgotten. "Actually, there is one more. I know that I have already won, but we agreed upon three rounds, no?"

The last one is enough to have me sleep through the alarm I set, and completely forget to return to my own apartment before Esmee wakes up so that the poor girl does not have to stare at the kitchen in hopes that food will miraculously appear. When I rush inside, she has her arms folded as though I am a teenager in trouble.

"Where have you been?" She takes in the sight of me; ruffled hair and crumpled pyjamas that spent most of the night on the floor. I think she works the answer out herself. "Actually, I don't care. Feed me, please. I'm starving."

notes: 

this was supposed to be full-blown smut but I just absolutely cannot be bothered x

but count this as an apology present for not updating for ages

thanks for reading!!!