Chapter Text
The trip had been such a great idea. She and her best friend had decided over drinks one night that since they both worked hard, they both deserved a break. They had started planning a girls’ weekend to New York the next day. Luxury midtown hotel, spa days, museums, shopping, and tonight, the theater. Fate seemed to have played a hand too, as one of their favorite shows happened to be in its preview performances while they were in the city. That was where she caught her first, in the flesh, look at HIM – Richard Armitage - her first ever celebrity obsession. The possibility had crossed her mind while they planned the trip, since he was rumored to be living in New York, but she never thought that she would actually “bump” into him among the millions.
Chatting with her friend in the crowded lobby during intermission, she’d been lightly jostled from behind as the crowd began to move back toward the theater when the lights signaled the end of the intermission. She turned to acknowledge the deep, English accented, “Pardon me,” offered by the jostler. Her eyes widened briefly in recognition before she smiled and shrugged replying, “What can you do?” Richard Armitage smiled pleasantly back at her, raising his eyebrows a bit in agreement as he moved away, pulled along with the momentum of the crowd. There it was, her five second brush with celebrity, she thought with a silent laugh. The online fan reports were correct, he was somehow even more delicious in person. She congratulated herself for having formed and uttered a complete thought without collapsing into a heap and turned back to brief her friend as they made their way up to the “nosebleed” seats for the second half of the show.
The following night they’d made reservations to see a cabaret show around the corner from their hotel in the Theater District. They arrived a bit early in hopes of finding a decent table, and were talking over drinks when a group came past to take a nearby table. She looked up in casual observation only to find her eyes ensnared by a familiar blue gaze. Seriously, what were the odds?! She gaped for a minute before forcing herself to smile politely at him and then turn and continue conversing with her friend. She couldn’t help but notice that he and his companions seated themselves at the table just to her left. When the revue began a few minutes later, she didn’t resist the urge to glance over at him periodically, observing him subtly before turning back to the stage or leaning to say something to her friend. It was fine with her to only look. She was determined to withstand the compulsion to interrupt his evening by introducing herself as a fan. She had no idea that he was very aware of her “covert” observation.
He recognized her immediately as the woman he’d bumped at the theater the previous evening. Her soft dark eyes and dimpled white smile had made a memorable impression. He’d also noted last night, the tell tale pause and widening of those lovely eyes as signs that she’d recognized him. He’d seen the signals often enough to be fairly certain that she was a fan, and that at some point this evening, she would approach him.
They were seated at adjacent tables and throughout the show, he could feel the warmth of her gaze moving over him, but if he glanced her way, she was watching the stage, or commenting quietly to her companion. From the scattered bits of conversation that reached his ears, two things became clear: neither woman was a native New Yorker and they were not discussing him. Interesting. He found himself more actively trying to catch her watching him in the second part of the show, intrigued that he never could, even though he knew that she was.
He was somewhat surprised, and truthfully, a bit disappointed that she didn’t approach him as soon as the revue ended. Since it was the last show of the evening, there was no rush to move out, so people were ordering drinks and settling back to converse. He had begun to feel a bit foolish for assuming that she was a fan, when the expected brush on his shoulder, followed by a soft, “Excuse me,” proved his suspicion correct. Or so he thought. As he turned, expecting her to stop and introduce herself, perhaps ask for a photo or an autograph, he froze, his mouth open on a reply to an introduction that never came. He sat, a bit stunned, as he watched her slip past him without a backward glance and continue toward the restrooms. She hadn’t been trying to catch his attention at all, simply excusing herself for accidentally brushing his shoulder as she moved between the two tables.
He found himself oddly annoyed that she hadn’t stopped to talk to him, which in turn perplexed him. He should be grateful that he was enjoying an uninterrupted night out. His new found celebrity in the US in the past months meant that he was often approached by fans, and it could be tiresome at times. New Yorkers tended to be fairly blasé about it – there were bigger celebrities than him around every corner. But, she was surely not a New Yorker, and he was positive that he’d read the fan signs correctly. He was suddenly perversely determined to prove his instincts correct and to hear her admit that she was a fan. His tingling awareness of her lushly curved body and kissable mouth had nothing to do with it. Nothing at all, he assured himself.
He turned back to his companions and absently agreed to the proposal of another round of drinks while he mentally plotted his next move. He glanced over at her friend and saw that she was deep in conversation with one of the revue performers. Perfect. He excused himself from the table and walked toward the dark hall that led to the restrooms to wait for her. He didn’t have long to wait.
She didn’t notice him standing there at first as her eyes adjusted from the bright lights of the bathroom to the shadowy corridor. She walked slowly and stopped short with a soft gasp as he stepped out in front of her. Not realizing his intention, she moved to step around him with a mumbled, “Excuse me.” She looked up at him in surprise when he blocked her path and rumbled, “You’ve been watching me all night haven’t you?” Her cheeks flushed and she slowly nodded. “Are you a fan?” he continued, his smooth deep voice sending a tingle down her spine. A quick, furtive smile quirked her full lips before she nodded again, looking away before she said in a suffocated voice, “I’m so sorry, it was really rude. I’ll just go,” and tried to walk past him. He stepped in front of her again, this time crowding her into a doorway and blocking her exit with his tall, fit body. “Don’t be sorry,” he purred near her ear, “I liked feeling your eyes on me,” he admitted. He wastn’t touching her at all, but a shiver ran through her before her head snapped back to look at him. She couldn’t miss the predatory glint that lit his arresting eyes.
The corner of his mouth twitched in a familiar smirk as he watched the reactions to his comment flit across her face. Before she could reply, he bent slightly and stole a kiss, his tongue making a quick pass over her lips before he lifted his head. A seductive smile slowly curved his lips as he heard her stutter, “But I…you don’t….I’m…” Her thoughts were written plainly across her face and her dark eyes reflected both confusion and desire. He laughed softly and tapped his finger lightly on her lips saying, “You shouldn’t believe everything you read on the internet love.” His hand slid caressingly along her jaw to bring her mouth back to his in a scorching kiss. He felt her hesitation melt away as she opened her mouth to accept the invitation of his tongue. He wasn’t sure exactly when his intentions had changed from simply “outing” her as a fan, to this, but as he felt her soft curves lean into him and her hand slide into his hair, he didn’t care.
He slid his free arm around her waist and pulled her even closer, slanting his mouth across hers to deepen the kiss and groaning softly as she responded by sucking lightly on his invading tongue. His hand moved to the small of her back, pressing her tightly to him and letting her feel his hardening response against her midriff. A deep rumble came from his chest as she tilted her hips into him and sucked harder on his tongue. They broke apart, both breathing heavily. He rested his forehead against hers and murmured between breaths, “Not here. Where are you staying?” He held his breath as she thought for a long moment before finally responding with the name of a nearby hotel. He nodded, tipping her chin up with one finger to look into her eyes and said, “I’ll be in the hotel bar in one hour if you’d like to continue what we just started…” he paused and then asked, “What’s your name love?” She flushed anew then answered quietly, “Alyson.” He smiled that slow, sexy smile again, stroking his thumb across her flushed cheek, “I hope to see you soon Alyson,” he purred and bent to brush his lips lightly across hers before he turned and walked slowly back to his table.
She stood there for a minute, as if rooted in place, unable to believe what had just happened. Richard Armitage had just propositioned her? Her? She had given him the name of her hotel? Impossible! She was sure that she would wake up any minute in her own bed at home. Instead of returning directly to her table, she went back to the restroom to gather her scattered wits and assess her appearance. Looking into the mirror, she saw all the signs, non-existent lipstick, a pink glow around her mouth from his stubble, unfocussed eyes and flushed cheeks– she looked like she’d just been making out. Incredible. This had not been on the itinerary! When she returned to her table, he was gone.