Simple Kind of Man

The meeting went well... or as well as could be expected. I asked the pertinent questions of Judith and Charlie, trying to ascertain what the needs and wants of both parties were and how I could most effectively manipulate the situation in my client's favor. We didn't touch on the custody situation at all; I think we all felt that it was something best discussed separately for now. I hoped that I would have an ally in Aiden, that he would counsel his client to accept a joint custody offer so that we could wrap this with as little mess as possible.

I gave him my card as we left, letting him know he could call me if he needed anything. And because my vag wanted to do the talking, I overcompensated by being overly professional.
Pretty sure I actually called him sir. I shook my head at myself as Charlie and I walked out.

Charlie dropped me off at the hotel shortly after, and I wasted no time booting up the laptop to get started on the eleventy billion documents I would need file for the case. No signal.

Huh.

I called down to the front desk, hoping that maybe there was some kind of password I needed for wireless, or that they had a data center at the very least. I held back the mental snort at the idea that the Bates Motel would have some Noursky computer lab hidden somewhere, because this was a crisis of epic fucking proportions. I needed to steer clear of bad karma and think positively.

"Front desk," a cheerful voice answered on the third ring.

"Yes, hi, this is Emily Nours in room 24. I was wondering, does the hotel have a wireless internet connection available?"

"Oh no, honey," Cheerful Voice lamented. "We don't have much call for that here. The library has a couple computers hooked up to the internet though. You could try there."

You have got to be fucking kidding me...

"Ok, thanks. Do you happen to know their hours?" I asked, glancing at the windows and noting that it was early evening.

"Six o'clock, honey," she answered.

It was 5:45. Peachy. "Ok, thank you."

"You let me know if I can help with anything else, now."

Not likely."I will, thank you," I said before hanging up and falling face first into the bed, burying my face in the pillow to muffle my scream. "What the mother fuuuuuuck! Where am I?"
Fuck my life.

What was I supposed to do? Short of marching my ass to the nearest Best Buy - excuse me while I laugh at the thought of there being a Best Buy anywhere near here - and buying a wireless card, I would have to plan my work schedule around library hours, which was just completely unacceptable. I needed data at my fingertips. I needed to be able to check my goddamn gmail and twitter at 3am if I wanted to. I mean, fuck.

I picked up my cell phone and called the only person I could think of.

"Hello?" his gruff voice answered, his tone distracted.

"Babe. I am in hell. What the fuck, why did you let me come here?" I whined straight off the mark.

"Emily," he sighed, and I could see him rubbing his eyes with this thumb and forefinger in exasperation. "I told you not to go. I knew you wouldn't be able to handle this kind of dynamic."

Whoa, let's back the fucking train up, mister.

"What? No, that's not what I meant-- you know what, never mind." I ended the call and flung my phone on the bed.

He always thought the worst of me. I knew I had to tread somewhat lightly with him, that he was uncomfortable with my promotion. And hell, I could understand that - we'd been competitive with one another from day one. It was only natural he'd feel a little jealous of it... but I thought he'd be over it by now. And what's more, I thought somewhere inside he'd be happy for me. Weren't we a team? Wasn't my success our success? Would it always be like this? Would I always have to take his belittlement because I felt bad that I'd been recognized for my skills before he had?

Epic fucking sigh.

I didn't want to think about this anymore. I needed a distraction. And maybe an alcoholic beverage.

I realized I hadn't eaten since the morning and my stomach was about to devour me from the inside out. I knew my shitty ass hotel probably didn't run to room service, but vaguely remembered some sort of diner type thing right down the street. It'd do. They probably had beer. Or wine in the box, at the very least.

I'd just taken a disgustingly huge bite of my BBQ bacon burger when a familiar voice said, "Emily?"

I turned to my right to see Aiden fucking Daniels, Sultan of motherfucking Schwing standing at the end of my table. "Hey," I said, my voice muffled with the three pounds of beef and cheese I'd stuffed in my mouth three seconds prior.
His delicious lips quirked up into a smirk. "Sorry, I don't mean to interrupt your dinner, but I saw you when I walked in and wondered if you'd be open to talking for a few minutes?"

I made a please go ahead gesture as I tried to swallow. I took a swig of beer to wash it down as he slid into the booth across from me, folding his hands on the white formica. His tanned skin was in golden contrast to the gleaming tabletop and I was momentarily mesmerized by his hands: large and rough looking, with long fingers and short nails.

Can't lie. I wanted them on me.

I mentally kicked my ass for even thinking about it, and cleared my throat. "So, what did you want to talk about, sir?"

Fuck, what was with me and the sirs?

I saw his mouth quirk a bit with it and I knew he wanted to laugh at my ridiculousness. I almost called him on it, but he spoke before I could let my self-deprecation fly.

"I just wanted to let you know that I'm doing my best to sway Judith on the custody issue."

I nodded, taking another sip of my beer. "Thank you, I appreciate it. I..." I trailed off, sighing, trying to choose my words carefully. "He made a mistake, he admits it and is willing to pay the price for it - but he's a good father, and I'll fight with him to keep his kids. They shouldn't be used as tools to hurt him."

Aiden nodded in agreement. "I agree. No child should be without their parents if it can be helped." His cerulean eyes were suddenly filled with such sadness before they cleared as quickly as they'd clouded over; he smiled, like the sun through a stormy sky. I wanted to take his hand in mine, squeeze it in sympathy... for what, I did not know. I wanted to press my lips to his mouth and ensure it never fell into an unhappy line.

I wanted to... stop fucking writing odes to his body parts in my goddamn head.

"I don't know them well," he continued, "I know of them more than anything. Small town life. You know how it is," he shrugged with a grin. "But it's easy to see that she's just hurting right now and looking for a way to lash out. It's not what she really wants, and I think I'll be able to convince her of that."

His compassion and sincerity were evident, and I was touched by the way he was invested in people he didn't really know. I wondered if he took every case to heart as he did this one - and if he did, how he could possibly succeed as a lawyer. Bleeding hearts were not known for being cutthroat SOB's in the courtroom.

But then again... small time lawyers probably did not see the inside of a courtroom often.

And now you're belittling the Smithson guy you wanted to mack on three seconds ago. Bitch.

"Well, I appreciate that, Aiden," I said. "I, on the other hand, do know the Bane's well and I totally agree with your assessment of Judith. I wish there was a way for me to talk to her, but obviously it's impossible given the situation. I'm just glad she has someone like you in her corner," I said, tipping my beer at him in mock salute.

"Someone like me?" he smirked, his eyes dancing.

Yeah, you know... hot as fuck, pretty mouth, strong hands and heart of gold?

I cleared my throat, willing away the blush that had crept onto my cheeks with that thought. "Yeah, you know... someone who cares. You seem to be genuinely invested in this, beyond just wanting to win the case."

He looked at me like I had two heads. "Of course I care. Why wouldn't I? There's more to life than winning, Emily."

That one, simple statement resonated within me. Who was this guy? He couldn't be real.

"Well," I mumbled, watching my fingertip trace a random shape on the tabletop. "There aren't a lot of people who feel that way." I met his eyes, dark and blue and regarding me so intensely I felt as though he could see through to my pounding heart and hear his quiet declaration echoing through my head.
"I appreciate it."

He reached across the table and laid his hand over mine. I nearly gasped as the warmth of his palm seeped into my skin, electricity arcing between us. I met his eyes, sure mine reflected my astonishment at the sensation as he said, "Thank you. I appreciate that you care, too."

Our gazes remained locked for a moment; I couldn't tear my eyes away as I just stared at him wordlessly, his eyes full of compassion and sincerity. They were the purest thing I'd ever seen and I wanted to drown in them. Finally, the moment broke and I blurted out the first thing that came to mind to ease the ridiculous tension I could feel building between us.

"So, Aiden Daniels," I said with a raised eyebrow. "Would you mind explaining to me how it is possible that your town - or any town, anywhere in the first world - does not have wireless internet access coming out its ass in the year of our lord baby Jesus two thousand and fucking nine?"

He was silent for a moment, and I feared that I'd offended him with the whole mocking of his hometown and dirty words thing. Or, as I liked to refer to it, Emily's lack of filter. Luckily, he threw his head back and laughed, the sound loud and full, after a moment. My relief was outweighed by the infectious quality of his amusement, and I found myself smiling in response. An actual smile, not my usual smirk or fake professional mask or the tried and true Fuck Off Asshole sneer.

"Well now, Miss Emily," he said, still chuckling. "I don't have the answer to that. But you're welcome to set up in my office for the duration of your stay if you'd like. I have a small office that I'm using for storage at the moment, and do happen to have wireless access."

I mulled it over. On one hand, it would be awesome to have an actual desk and internet access and maybe even a printer handy. On the other hand... on a scale of one to ten, how unprofessional and possibly damaging to my case would it be to share space with the opposing counsel?

"I promise I won't peek," he said and though it was said with a smirk, I somehow, instinctively knew he was sincere. And that I could trust him.

"Ok," I said tentatively. "I really appreciate the offer."

"Oh, it will be my pleasure, Emily," he said with a smirk, his low drawl skittering over every single nerve ending in my body.