sixteen

I posted this ages ago but a few people have told me it never popped up on their dashboards. What a bummer! I don't want anyone to miss the big finale!! Hope you enjoy (and check the bottom for a bonus).
____


Jon was pretty damned impressed with himself.  It had been three days since Fiona had left him standing outside her Miami hotel without so much as a kiss.  No promises, no agreements.  He didn’t even know what to expect.  But he hasn’t called her.  The phone had been in his hand two million times, and he’d checked her Facebook more than once, but Jon had resisted and respected.

He smiled as he pressed this thumb to the piece of tape, hanging the note on her door.

Didn’t even break in.

____

Fiona braced herself, but the first blast of frigid cold outside O’Hare went right through her.  No amount of sunlight stored up could compete against the Chicago winter.  She hurried to the taxi stand.  The car’s heat had her warm and cozy again, only to turn her out at the curb.

She’s spent the days after Jon left dozing in the same spot he’d left her.  A few movies, a few dinners, but she’d kept to herself and her thoughts.  After the way she’d sent him home and a few days apart, Fiona felt more confident.  And it was New Year’s Eve, she had to work tonight.

Taped to her front door was a note.

Fiona

She pulled it down and opened the flap.

Will you by my girlfriend?

In the corner was a small arrow.  She turned it over.

(Just checking.)

Despite herself, she laughed.

He didn’t even break in.

____

“Let’s get em, boys!”

Jon slapped his teammates on the back as they headed for the ice. The Madhouse was rocking, even more than the usual deafening din.  New Years Eve games were always fun but full of pressure - the Hawks didn’t want to spoil everyone’s party by taking a loss at home.  Jon felt the adrenaline running through them and hoped tonight would start out the way he wanted.

By game time the bar was packed.  New Years Eve on a Saturday night meant everyone could go doubly-big because the had two days to sleep it off.  They were getting an early start just in case.  In everything from jeans to party dresses, the were throwing back drinks to the tune of the National Anthem.

The camera stopped on Jon’s face, bareheaded and bend over his hand, which rested on the nob of his stick.  His eyes were closed but his lips moved like he was talking to himself.  Fiona

smiled at the idea of Jon’s pep talk, and the idea of his lips.

When the puck dropped, she knew whatever he’d said had worked.  The Hawks had twice the speed and it seemed twice the size and skill of the San Jose team.  They threw bodies at the boards, shots at the net and halfway through, Jon put one under the Sharks’ goalie.  In the bar, the crowd yelled like the boys in red could hear them across town.  

Fiona dropped ten shot glasses on the bar, flipped a bottle of whisky over and poured each glass full.  Then she pushed them at the nine people sitting closest and picked up one for herself.

“These are on Toews!”

Some nights were magic.  Jon had been there before, even if he refuse to admit it to himself until after, as if acknowledging it threatened to break the spell.  This was one of those nights.  The Blackhawks couldn’t lose.  In the second, Seabrook and Frolik each scored.  They started the third period up by three, but it felt like ten.

Two minutes into the third, Viktor took a hooking penalty.  He’d hoped to get away with it - everything else was tilting toward the Hawks tonight.  No such luck.  He watched as the Sharks got a few shots through, but nothing Emery couldn’t handle.  With three left on his penalty, he stood at the door.  Keith knocked Ryane Clowe off the puck at the hash marks.  At the far end, Niemi was banging his stick to warn the Sharks.  Duncan heard to too.  He put the puck off the near boards, slowing it down, as Viktor hopped onto the ice right behind it.  Dan Boyle was close, but not close enough.  Momentum carried him past as Viktor stepped left and got clear, right down the middle.  Left, right and the puck was over Niemi’s shoulder into the net.

Fiona had stopped mid-pour to watch Viktor break out of the box.  You’d think the puck was magnetized the way it found his stick.  The beer at her side overflowed and ran down the drain while she watched him dance in and score.

“Yes!” she threw her arms up, almost taking out the pint glass anyway.  She shut the tap, tossed another few shot glasses onto the table and poured round two for anyone lucky enough to be nearby.

“Toews is paying for these too,” she said as she drained hers.

____

The game was a like a party that started on the ice.  Jon rolled into the locker room after being announced second star to find all the guys hurrying to get dressed.  The media closed in around him, he tried to speak quickly and get one question per person.  At the first possible moment he turned to the stall next to him.

“Hey Vik.  Want to come to the bar?  I think Fiona would like it if you were there.”

Viktor smiled, looking up at Jon from where he was tying his dress shoe.  “Thanks, but I’m gonna go with Hammer to some place where he’s got a crush on the bartender.”

Stalberg stood up straight and gave Jon a shot to the shoulder.  They both pretended not to notice that it was pretty hard.

“Good luck,” he said.  “Tell her I said hi.”

“Thanks.  I’ll need it.”  Jon watched his teammate and friend walk away, knowing Stalberg had set the bar really high.

“Taaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaazer,” Seabrook howled like he was already drunk.  “Let’s go, you pussy.  It’s not a fashion show.”  He reached over and yanked the knot loose on Jon’s tie.

Keith pulled a hat down over his bushy hair.  “Yeah, even Seabs is gonna get laid tonight so we’d better hurry before the ugly chicks turn back into pumpkins.”

Jon unbuttoned his collar and followed the out the door.

____

There was a line outside the bar, which they passed.  There was a crowd inside, which they forced their way through in wedge formation like trying to penetrate a team’s defense.  At the bar it was tougher, people leaning over people, waving money.

Eleven thirty, Jon noted.  Then he started grabbing shoulders, politely asking to get through.  They all moved the moment they realized it was Jon.  A few slapped him on the back, some “good game’s” were called out.  He heard it roll back toward his teammates who tried to follow through the scrum.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said as he stepped over and around people until his hands touched the hardwood bar.

Fiona was ten feet away, making a drink with each hand.  She watched the clear glass fill with vodka to the right level, added another second’s worth, then racked the bottle with surprising speed for someone who wasn’t left-handed.  Jon thought she’d be wicked with a hockey stick.  Her dark hair fell loose from a low ponytail she probably hadn’t had a chance to fix in hours.  Jon was busy watching the way she bit her lip while counting bills when the guy she was serving noticed him.

“Toews!” the dude roared, holding up his drink as if he’d toss it down the bar.  All the heads in hearing snapped toward him.  Including Fiona’s.

“There he is!” Jenny shouted, pushing through behind her.  

Fiona was grateful.  That first moment when she didn’t expect to see Jon always hit her like a train.  The slightly disheveled suit look didn’t make it easier, nor did the fact he’d played so well that night.  It took a few slow blinks to get her brain back online.

“Second stars drink free!” Jenny slid a Molson across the bar.  It was what Jon always drank when the night promised to be too long for scotch.

“What about first stars?!” Seabrook pushed Jon out of the way and leaned way over.  Jenny didn’t miss a beat, she stepped in and kissed him full on the mouth.  If Brent was surprised, he didn’t show it.  Just shoved his tongue in her mouth.  The whole place hollered.  

“Whew!” Jenny said, getting her footing back.  “You can high stick me anytime you want!”

Fiona gave Jon a smile before he disappeared back into the crowd.

____

Keith kept looking at his watch, then scanning the room.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jon asked.

“How many girls you think I can kiss in one minute?”

They both looked at Kane, who would know.  Pat just smiled.  “Tongue or no tongue?”

“Ten minutes to midnight. I gotta have a plan of attack.”

“I don’t recommend calling your first kiss with some girl an ‘attack,’ tends to give them the wrong idea,” Brent said.  He knew where he’d be when the clock ticked down.

Keith burped in Seabrook’s direction.  “You always take the easy way out.”

“Jealous!” Brent said, starting toward the bar.  Jon watched him go and a second later felt an elbow in his ribs.

“You’d better go,” Kane nodded in that direction.

If Jon was going, it had to be now.  The girls were pouring champagne for the toast, waitresses were hauling trays of it around the room.  It would take a while to break that fortress of bodies and get close enough to celebrate the moment.  But would there be anything to celebrate?

“I’m not sure if she wants me to,” Jon admitted.

Pat made a face.  “Yeah but what if she does?  And you’re not there?”

Jon hurried to catch up to Brent.

____

Fiona had put a plastic champagne flute in every hand that reached out toward her.  Someone shouted a two minute warning but she was too busy to look up until she heard Jenny yell.

“Hey, my date’s here!”

Down the bar, Seabrook poked his head in and wiggled his shoulders until they followed.  Jenny picked up two glasses.  Fiona had one for herself and an extra already poured, just in case.  

“One minute!”

A few people in the back started counting down from sixty, but lost interest in five seconds when no one joined in.  As they fell quiet, someone yelled, “Fiona!”  She turned back - it was Brent, Jenny and Jon, all shouting in her direction.  Jon had a mile wide smile on his face.  Hers felt like it matched.  Someone tried to order a drink, she ignored them.

“Cheers!”  She handed Jon the glass.  Everyone around them was watching, for at least the next thirty seconds.  Jon was wedged in with his shoulders sideways, angling for more room.  Finally he reached an arm through.

He felt confident.  And happy.  Her smile at the sight of his face at nearly midnight on New Year’s Eve gave him the little boost he needed to play this the way he saw the game.

“Did you get my note?”

She nodded.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” he asked.

Fiona narrowed her eyes a little.  “No.”

It wasn’t the answer he wanted, but it was expected.  He was really asking though and would really ask again soon.  And again after that till she changed her mind or sent him away, whichever came first.

“Just checking.”

Fiona laughed out loud, caught off guard by his candid casualness.  Maybe he really had figured out a thing or two.

“Maybe next year,” she said.

“TEN!” The entire crowd began screaming at once.  Fiona moved a step closer, but Jon was way ahead of her.  

He shoved Brent to the side, pushed two glasses out of the way and heaved himself up onto the bar.  A lifetime of jumping over the boards had made that perfectly possible.  A second later his feet were clear, dropping down next of Fiona’s.  

“Four, three....”

He was right there in front of her, in front of a few hundred other people too.  Jon didn’t say a word.  

“Two, one!”

And then he kissed her.

____

EPILOGUE

Fiona pulled up next to Abby’s car in the dark parking lot, hopped out and got into the passenger side.

“Hey!”  Her breath was visible just from the two seconds outside.

“Hi sweetie,” Abby said, adjusting the heater.  In the back, the baby cooed a hello.

The Hawks team plane was due back any second.  They’d played one home game after New Year’s before leaving for a twelve day road trip.

And thank God.

Fiona resistance had been severely compromised by the kiss Jon delivered at midnight.  His lips were soft and warm as they pushed against hers - not demanding, but asking.  Those big hands touched lightly on her lower back - not grabbing, but holding.  In the ten seconds they’d kissed in front of a packed house, it had made hundreds of people around them disappear.

Then he stopped.  A crooked little smile told Fiona that Jon knew he’d be turned down for anything more that night.  So instead of asking a question he knew the answer to, he chose not to ask at all.  He’d waited for her and gotten them a cab home, delivered her to her door.  Fiona escaped without a second kiss because she didn’t want to compromise herself.  No one could be expected to think clearly on New Year’s Eve.

By the next day she had a better grasp.  Maybe Jon was good for his word and was really going to do this.  He called and they talked, only five floors apart, instead of seeing each other.  She went to the game on January 3 and sat with Abby, who hadn’t been to a game in weeks.  It was just like before everything, except Fiona felt different.

She went to the locker room early.  Jon saw her coming and left, leaving his seat next to Viktor’s open.  She was sitting there when he came in.

“Hey, Fi.”  His step slowed when he realized.

“Happy New Year,” she said.  “We missed you at the bar.”

He was heart-breakingly beautiful.  His features seemed even more defined, like he didn’t need a movie screen to be larger than life.  And when he smiled, an angry little spark flared and pouted in her stomach.

“I heard you had a good party.”  He sat down next to her.  “I won’t miss the next one.  I promise.”

Fiona bumped against his shoulder, grateful for that.  “How’s Hammer do with his bartender?”

“He’s waiting for the right time to make his move.”  Viktor smirked.  “I told him not to go too fast.”

The next day, Fiona made sure to be at the bar when Jon was leaving for the road trip.  That way he had to say goodbye in semi-public.  They ducked into the back during a fairly quiet happy hour.

“I’ll call you.”

“Good luck, Captain.  I’ll miss you,” she admitted.

Taking her own words, Jon said, “You know right where I’ll be.”

He called her every night, around the time he would have otherwise been unzipping a girl’s pants.  They talked, watched a TV show or two together by starting their computer feeds at the same time.  Kaner even joined them, so they put Fiona on speaker phone and watched three different screens.  It was so absurdly normal that Jon wondered why he’d never thought of it before.

Some of the nights Jon was alone.  He’d Skype her just to see her face, then spend most of the conversation wishing she’d take off her shirt.  His best judgement reluctantly admitted that suggesting cyber sex was not the best next move.  He’d have to wait a few more days.

Now those days were up and she watched the jet taxi toward the hangar.  The guys would grab only their suitcases and be outside in moments.  She and Abby didn’t get out of the car.  As players filed out of the small building, it was impossible tell them apart with their long coats and hats until they started walking toward their cars.

Patrick opened the passenger side door.  “Hey Fi.”

“Wanna trade?” she asked, as Jon came up behind him.

“Ugh, one Patrick is enough!” Toews climbed into the driver’s seat of his car.  Fiona hugged Sharp and went around the SUV.

Jon had pulled his toque off, messing up his hair.  “Hi.”

“Hi.”

Oh what the hell? Fiona thought as she stretched across and kissed him.  Jon smiled against her lips.

“Welcome home,” he said.

____

Jon led the way into his apartment without even pretending to stop on Fiona’s floor.  She was right behind him, shucking off her heavy sweatshirt and kicking off her boots.  He waited till she was in her socks because she’d be less likely to run.  With no warning, Jon picked her up and set her on the kitchen counter, planting himself between her knees.  She had to spread her legs wide to fit around his hips.  Then he tugged her a little closer.

Her mouth came to his and they kissed each other, maybe for the first time ever.  He tugged her hair tie lose and dark waves fell around her shoulders.  Fiona reached around his waist and held on to the sheer size of his body.

“I missed you too,” he said.

They stayed there, in the perfect position for kissing, a long time.  She ran her fingers through his short hair, his mouth traced the curve of her neck.  Fiona felt Jon’s chest rise and fall with calm, even breathing.  His tongue was velvety against hers.  It wasn’t until she pulled his dress shirt free of his belt and touched her hands to his bare skin that Jon stepped in closer.

He focused on the soft sweetness of her mouth to keep from moving too fast.  Once she was undressing him, he was undressing her.  Fiona worked at his tie, then buttons, Jon cheated underneath her t-shirt till he unsnapped her bra.

“Come on,” he hoisted her down from the counter.  Jon had promised himself their first time together - first new time, his do-over - would be a good, old-fashioned time.  He already knew they would both enjoy it but he wanted to show he could control himself, even when it came to sex.

Plenty of time to get crazy later.

Still it wasn’t going to be easy.  Fiona wanted to rip seams until he was shirtless at least, then do a topographical survey of his upper body with her tongue.  Every night after hanging up the phone, she taken the sound of his voice and the sight of him in white hotel sheets with her after lights-out.

Now he was here, all warm skin and round corners and she was following him into the bedroom.  The wide open curtains let in the light of the cityscape.  They went right down on his new blue bed clothes.  

Fiona’s shirt was off immediately and Jon lifted her breast gently to this mouth.  The nipple stiffened as he flicked his tongue slowly across it, earning a tug on his hair.  He moved to the other and made a matching set, then helped himself to the spot where the supple curve met her ribcage.  She pulled at the back of his shirt, tugging him off target.

“Okay, baby,” he laughed, lifting his chest enough to shove the shirt back from his shoulders.  Fiona bit her lip at the sight of all that bare skin.  Jon dropped down, plating one below on either side of her head.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said.  “I always told you that, right?”

Fiona smoothed the cowlick at the crown of his head, enjoying having her arms around him.  “I told you too.”

“Yeah, but you say that to Kaner.”

“He looks good!” Fiona protested, Jon giving her a raspberry against the collarbone.  His hands slipped down to her hips, tugging at the waistband of her jeans.

“Okay, you’re gorgeous, Jonathan,” she rolled helplessly against him.

“Eh,” he said against her breast, “I’m alright.”

But he kept moving south, not so much as a slow down before flicking open the button on her jeans and undoing the zipper.  The tiny pink panties revealed made him groan out loud.  Jon didn’t stop till he’d dropped her pants to the floor.  He reached for her panties.

“Nope,” she bent her knees up and pointed to his pants.  “You first.”

With his best come hither stare, which made them both laugh instead, Jon unbuckled his belt.  He slowly dragged it out through all the belt loops and let it fall on top of her jeans.  Then he opened his own fly.  

Fiona ran one fingertip across her lower lip, giving his eyes something to follow while she devoured the sight of him.  His abs were flat but not sculpted - they were nothing but strong, useful muscle.  The sheer size of his ass made his waist look small, but the hard indents of his directionals were anything but dainty.  He looked like he could storm through a wall, or a bed, or a girl.

He unzipped his pants and slipped them off his hips.  Fiona sighed in appreciation.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Jon joked.  He’d pay good money for her to do nothing else for the rest of her life.

“No.”

He carefully stripped his boxer briefs off, grimacing as the elastic touched his ranging hard-on, and watched Fiona fight it, fight it so hard, but she blushed.  It rose high into her pale cheeks and she covered her face with one hand, giggling.

“What?” he crawled on top of her, pulling at her hand.  “You shy now?”

Fiona kept her eyes closed.  Jon just hitched his fingers into the waistband of her panties and slipped them down her thighs.  Once they were around her knees, he used his foot to push them all the way off.

She was looking at him now.  They lay tangled on top of the blankets, not a scrap of clothing between them.  Jon pressed his erection hard and high into her thigh, settling all his weight on top of her, before he asked.

“Are you sure about this?”

Her eyes were bright.  “Maybe.”

“You can’t maybe be sure.”

She ran her fingers along the small scars near his mouth.  “I’m sure I want to be here, Jon.  The rest we’re just going to have to take as it comes.  Okay?”

He wanted Fiona to say she loved him.  He was sure she did, somewhere inside, or she never would have taken such a chance on him.  But at least she was here and they were taking the next step in their relationship.  A do-over, really.  A mulligan.

Jon moved himself into place, flinching at the heaviness of his hard-on.  Fiona opened herself for him.  She lifted her mouth and kissed him with her eyes open.  He pushed inside her, slowly and strongly, keeping his eyes open only until he saw hers close.

____

Fiona drew in a long breath as Jon screwed himself deep into her.  She needed air, her brain wasn’t getting any oxygen as it tried to process just how something could feel so fucking good.  It was entirely different than the last time she’d felt the thickness of his cock splitting her body.

Like the first time all over again.

He groaned and moved his face to her neck, pulling around her shoulders to hold her still while he claimed the last possible inch of her pussy.  Fiona let that air go right out of her lungs.

“Fi,” he said quietly.  She kissed him again.  Jon began to move.

A single flex of his huge thighs pulled him out to the tip, then pushed him in to the hilt again.  Fiona moaned.  Jon went slowly, testing himself and concentrating on the hot, soft sink of her body.  She lifted her hips, Jon took one cheek of her ass in each hand and slid back out, then in again.  Fiona arched her back, planting her ass in his hands and letting him steer.  When he’d felt her out and began to move more forcefully, she rolled her hips up to meet every stroke.  

“Yes,” she said.  Jon mimicked his exact movements four, five, six times; until she was panting.  He chuckled softly and changed his rhythm.

Jon moved his grip to push her thighs around his waist.  He sat up straight and looked down over her body as he thrust into her at a new angle.  Her dark hair was tossed out and she gave him an arched eyebrow.

 

“What?” he challenged.

Fiona liked this.  Not only did it feel like her pussy had won the lottery but they were having fun.  They were more than just fucking, they were friends.  Friends who had sex were boyfriend and girlfriend.  That was a relationship, and that’s what she wanted.

She slipped the tip of one finger into her mouth, then let him watch that hand move down her body.  Her taut nipple rolled beneath it like a pebble, her stomach fell away beneath her ribs.  And her clit was a little pearl of pleasure.

“Mmmm,” she purred, touching herself just above where Jon’s cock was plunging.  He made the same noise of appreciation.

Fiona didn’t hesitate.  She rubbed her little button swiftly, harder and harder, letting Jon ramp up his own pace until she was getting it from inside and out in equal measure.  Her breathing shortened.  In truth, she’d been ready to come since Jon kissed her in the kitchen.

“Oh God,” she breathed.  He encouraged her, groping her breast and pinching her nipple.  Jon paid close attention to the way her fingers moved so he could do it next time, and any other time she wanted after that. Fiona let her eyes roll back, let herself get close.

“Touch me,” she said suddenly.  A little test.  Jon’s eyes locked on hers and by the wicked smile that curled his lips she knew he’d pas with flying colors.  His fingers were so big and he rubbed her right over the edge.

“Jon!”  It didn’t take much.  Her pussy quivered, fireworks twisting in the pit of her stomach, then popped like a bottle of champagne.  Sensation bubbled over, she rocked and twisted against his hand until short, sharp cries were tearing from her throat.

He’d made her come before.  He’s made her scream.  But he’d never heard Fiona sound grateful, sound like she was begging him to fuck her again so she could keep feeling that good.  It made him... proud.

Her new slick heat greased the wheels between them, allowing Jon to go even deeper, harder.  His dick was pounding.  Even knowing he’d get more chances to take her breath away Jon didn’t want to stop.

“Roll over, baby.”  He didn’t wait for her permission, just flipped her onto her stomach.  Lifting her hips to raise her ass into the air, Jon slipped right back inside her pussy.

“Unf,” she groaned, face down in the duvet.

Jon held onto one of her hips, using her perfect ass like a target and hitting a bulls-eye every time.  His other hand ranged over the snow white skin of her back, tracing the delicate furrows along her spine, the flare of her waist.  She lifted onto her elbow and looked back at him.

Sweet Jesus, she thought.  The sight of him, naked and having his way with her, was almost too much.  His brow furrowed in concentration.  Jon closed his eyes and bit his lip as she rocked back into his lap, his huge thighs bouncing her off like a diving board.  She wanted to make him come, not just let him come.  

Fiona pushed her hands out in front of her, bending her knees and forcing them both back until she was face-down, ass-up and Jon was panting.  Jon pushed the hair from her eyes, then twisted it in his hand and held.  He wanted her to see.

Her skin was so smooth beneath his hand, and he could tell her eyes were green even in the darkness.  She bucked against him as he moved, hard and fast, taking each sob of her breath as if she were asking for more.  In minutes, stars were popping behind his eyes.

“Come here,” she gave up and reached back for him, grabbing one wrist and pulling him down.  He landed on her back, flattening her out, and they both exhaled hard.

“Okay,” he laughed, catching the soft skin of her neck between his lips.  He kissed her hard, across the top of her shoulder and onto her back.  All his weight was angled to force his cock as far into her as she could take.  Fiona moaned loudly.

“One more time, Fi.”  But he knew she was already on the way.  Jon had power in his core that most men didn’t, and he knew how to use it.  He moved like a predator.  Holding her down hard with his chest, he squeezed his abs hard to pull his hips up.  Then he pushed with his knees until there was nothing left.

“Come on.”

Fiona didn’t want to give in so easily, but she was losing the fight.  Jon’s mouth on her skin, his weight against her back, his thighs not even trying to force her into two pieces with the sweetest death in history.  She rolled her hips as best she could under two hundred and ten pounds of muscle.

“Fuck,” he panted.  She almost laughed.  It was a race.  Jon pushed her hips deep into the mattress, Fiona squeezed as hard as she could against both push and pull.  

“I love you,” he said.

Fiona slipped right off the edge.  Her body arched and lifted and tried to fight it’s way free but it wasn’t enough.  She came hard, pressing her face into the blanket and letting herself scream.

Thank God.

Jon came before she was finished.  The deep, hot burst of her body ripped it right out of him; he poured into her, breathless.  It burned so hot he nearly blacked out and when it was over, his huge frame collapsed on top of her.

This will be a problem, Fiona knew. Buried under Jon, sweaty and stuck together, as his huge chest forced her deeper into the bed on every breath.  She could keep her wits in normal situations, but the things he did to her body would make it hard not to fall in love.

Well I don’t have to tell him, she reminder herself.

From somewhere near her ear, muffled by blankets and skin, Jon repeated himself.

“Love you.”

Fiona laughed weakly.  “Shut up, Jon.”

____

Author's Note: You guys have been amazing on this story. All your comments definitely affected the ending. I will confess that I wrote myself into a corner by making Viktor so perfect. But so many of you wanted Jon to win, and I found it a fun challenge to (hopefully) write him into an ending you would still like.

I'll be honest - in the first draft of this story Viktor won. I really liked the idea of an unexpected twist in which the nice guy doesn't get the shaft. He wins because he deserves it for being a better person - not just better than the other guy, but maybe even better than our heroine. I like the idea of choosing someone who inspires you to be better.

So for those who want... here's the original ending: The One Where Viktor Wins

I don't like one ending better than the other, and I meant for this to be a Toews story from the beginning. Viktor came into it almost by accident then ran away with the whole thing. My next story will be a Stalberg story, because I owe it to him now.

Thanks to all who read and commented - it's huge for writers, and I enjoyed every single one of them. Happy New Year!

_