“The wench went home?” Jen collapsed in a chair opposite Pacey and bent at the waist, rubbing the back of her ankle absentmindedly.

“Nope.” He raised a hand, pointing a finger somewhere vaguely over her shoulder. “She’s attempting the two-step with some sixth-grader over there.”

“Oh…” Jen grinned, reaching out to take a sip of his drink before handing it back to him. “She dropped you did she?”

“Like a hot potato. Turns out…”

“She wasn’t really interested?”

“Actually, she very much was, but let’s just say all focus happened to be on a solitary part of my anatomy, and that’s all.”

“Well…” Jen made a face. “Maybe she’ll find the sixth grader more satisfying anyway. You probably just did her a huge favour.”

Pacey kicked her lightly under the table.
“I doubt that severely.”

“So why turn her down then?” Jen pulled out an ice-cube with her pinky and looked up at him. “If she wants you so much…”

“Because it would be stupid. And one-sided. She only wants me for my ass,” he finished with a grin.

“Oh, it was THAT part of your anatomy…Figures.” She laughed softly as Pacey kicked her again. “Don’t tell me, Pacey Witter doesn’t want to be used?” She leaned forward. “They f*uck you and leave you, absolutely no emotions whatsoever. Sucks royally, doesn’t it Pace?”

Pacey shook his head, ignoring the glint in her eyes.
“What about you? any exciting prospects?”

“I was thinking of the sixth-grader actually.”

Pacey raised an eyebrow. “I thought you’d discarded younger men after Henry.”

“I suppose that was my plan, yeah. And maybe older men are the way to go.”

Jen heard footsteps behind her and turned, looking up into Mike’s smiling face. He bent down behind her, slinging an arm across her as he rested his chin on her shoulder. “Hey babe.” Planting a quick kiss on her cheek he turned, giving her a grin. “What was that I heard about older men?”

“Well…” Jen held back a soft laugh. “Nothing really worth repeating.”

“Sure about that?” The arm across her back sneaked forward around her waist, and both Pacey’s and Jen’s eyes travelled downwards, watching his hand rest lightly against her stomach. Glancing up, quickly, Jen caught the glint of anger in Pacey’s eyes and wondered what she’d done wrong.

Pacey coughed, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat, and pulled his gaze away. He wasn’t going to spend the next ten minutes watching Mike fondle his roommate. Especially not if she wasn’t planning on pushing him away, which didn’t look likely.

His hands clenched to fists, Pacey hid them under the table, not wanting her to see that this got to him. For all the obvious, and not so obvious reasons. But he couldn’t analyse that now. He wouldn’t, wouldn’t give himself the opportunity to get carried in away in some freakish nightmare.

Mike was married. He was ten years older than them, practically an age away. Nothing, repeat nothing, was going to happen between them. Mike wouldn’t be that stupid. Jen…Jen wouldn’t be that stupid.

Catching a glance Mike threw him, a knowing, I’ve-got-lucky smile, Pacey’s face went white. He knew that look. Christ, he’d used it himself before, but not like this. And he certainly wasn’t planning on being on the receiving end of it if Jen was the “lucky” in question.

Pacey stood abruptly to his feet, almost knocking over his chair in the process. Ignoring the obvious look of confusion plastered across Jen’s face he reached out his hand towards her.

She was still for a moment, watching it with closed gaze before she lifted her eyes to his own again.
“What is it, Pacey?” she asked softly.

Pacey attempted a smile,. Failing miserably.
“That…dance, Jen.” He gave her a look which he hoped could remained between the two of them. “That dance you promised me. Let’s do it now. I love this song.”

“‘Raining Men’?” Mike asked sceptically, an eyebrow raised.

Pacey winced, trying to pretend the hand on her stomach had moved.
“Call it my brother’s influence,” he muttered. “Jen…” He reached his hand a little further forward, eyes almost pleading with her before she reached out her own, tiny hand, letting him envelop it in his hold as he pulled her from her seat and towards him.

Jen threw Mike a wan smile over her shoulder as Pacey pulled her towards the centre of the dance-floor, away from their table. But he only shook his head, a knowing look on his face. She decided to ignore the look of disappointment that coloured his eyes.

“What,” Jen hissed when she was securely in his grasp, “the hell was that?”

“What the hell was what?” Pacey asked, avoiding her gaze.

Jen rolled her eyes.
“Please, a little respect here, Pacey. You didn’t think I’d notice the way you basically hauled me from my chair and away from the table?”

There was a moment of tense silence as Pacey repeatedly told himself not to step on her feet out of some misplaced frustration.

“It wasn’t the table I was worried about,” he muttered finally, hand protectively around her waist.

“Excuse me?” Pulling back so that she could look up into his face, Jen’s eyes were wide and dark with disbelief. “You can’t be saying what I think you’re saying…”

“That depends on what you think I’m saying.”

“Pacey…” Jen swallowed hard, leaning her forehead against his shoulder in frustration. “I’m a big girl now. I’ve been a big girl since the first day you knew me, and maybe even long before that as well.” She gripped his arms tight, struggling to maintain the steadiness in her voice, afraid, still afraid, that it would break.

“I know,” he murmured, glancing over her shoulder. “I know you are Jen, but I thought…”

“Thought you’d what, Pacey?” Her eyes searched his face, trying to gauge the emotion behind his own, dark expression. “Thought you’d rescue me from the unwilling advances of a law enforcement officer?”

Pacey bit back the strong of curses that flooded his mind, instead, taking a long, slow, breath before answering.
“Yes.”

“Please,” Jen muttered. Her lips twisted into a wry and almost angry smile as she looked up at him. “Firstly, I don’t need rescuing. Secondly, he wasn’t making any advances, he was just…”

“Using your stomach as an arm-rest?” Pacey shot back, holding her even closer, not realising the protective stance he assumed, arms hard around her back, her waist. “Come on, Lindley. You’ve never been naïve, let’s not start now.”

“He wasn’t coming onto me,” Jen started, before seeing the look on Pacey’s face. Realising the words, she winced slightly, clamping her mouth shut. “Okay,” she sighed. “He was flirting, but I didn’t have a problem. I can handle unwanted passes, Witter, regardless of your desire to do it for me.”

“But would it be?” he asked softly, gaze searching her face.

“Would it be what?”

“An unwanted pass.”

Jen froze, eyes cold for a moment before she remembered to breathe, to move. “I don’t think we should be having this conversation, Pacey.”

“Why? Because you’re embarrassed? Because you’re ashamed? Because there’s something you’re not telling me?”

“No,” she replied, suddenly somehow short of breath.

Because I want you, Pacey. Because I woke up a few days ago realising that my friend, the guy I’d been waking up with, eating, living with, for the past 5 years, was suddenly not my friend. He was so much more, at least inside. You were so much more. And because I don’t know how to deal with it, Pacey, I don’t know what to say.

But she couldn’t tell him any of it.

“This is why I have Karen,” she muttered finally, eyes fixed to the floor. “I have Karen so I can talk about guys, and you for…everything else.”

Pacey swallowed back the lump in his throat, fighting the irritation which threatened to rise up through his chest.
“You think it’s unreasonable for your best friend to know exactly what you’re up to?”

“Up to?” she replied with a laugh. “I’m not up to anything, Pacey.” She lifted a hand, brushing his cheek before letting it fall back to his shoulder. “And I promise you, when I am up to anything, you’ll be the first to know. But…don’t expect a running commentary. Don’t expect me to tell you everything, share everything. Don’t you see? We can’t share it all, Pace. I can’t expect you to understand how I feel when I want somebody so bad, someone I can’t have…”

Pacey shut his eyes, dread forming an ache in the pit of his stomach. For a moment he thought he couldn’t even breathe. “But you can’t,” he whispered. “You can’t have him, Jen. He’s married.”

Startled, Jen lifted her face, seeing the pained look on his face. The realisation hit her with a force so strong she wondered why she was still able to hold herself up. He thought she meant Mike, he thought she wanted…

Jen opened her mouth, ready to contradict him, explain. But she clamped it shut again after a few seconds. What was the other alternative? Having him know exactly how she felt about HIM? Jesus Christ, it would be worse. It would be unbearable.

Shaking her head sadly, she looked down.
“It was a hypothetical, Pace. I wasn’t…”

“Talking about Mike?” he finished softly, unable to hide the hope that coloured his voice.

“Yeah.”

“I’m glad, Jen. Because…” he took a deep breath. “I’d hate to see you get hurt. No man is worth that much. No man should be able to hurt you.” Leaning down, he pulled her towards him until her face was buried in his neck, his own back bent to envelop her small figure, arms around her, legs pressed tightly to either side of her own.

“I won’t let them,” he whispered finally, hand smoothing a loving caress against her back. “I would never let a guy hurt you. I would never…hurt you.”

Jen swallowed the bitter taste in the back of her throat, blinking hard.

“But it’s too late,” she whispered, feeling tears stain the back of her eyes and yet unwilling to let them shed. “You already have.”

“What?” Pacey asked, her voice muffled so he couldn’t make out the words.

The smile across her face as she leant back felt strange. Somehow out of place as she struggled to hold back her tears. But she held strong as he smiled down at her, wrapping her one more time in his embrace.
“Nothing,” she whispered. “Nothing worth repeating.”