Can't get you out of my head.

Chapter 4

When you finally turned from the door, it was with the same thought that had struck you when you left his office after his hand being on your arm. You wanted to see what it would be like to call him. For Keir to answer. For him to come back.

One look.
One kiss.
One commitment.

Only this time, it was stronger. You believed it a little bit more.

He knew how you felt now. You were almost certain of that. He felt it, too. You were sure of it.

But still, you kept your distance from him. Or at least, you tried to. You stayed at least an arm's length away whenever possible. You didn't touch him. You didn't move into him personal space. But that didn't stop him from touching you - a hand on your arm, shoulders brushing as he pulled his chair too close. That didn't stop him from invading your personal space.

The more he did it, the more certain you became that he had to feel...something...between you.

Still, you behaved yourself. Even if he did feel an inkling of what you felt, you knew that was no invitation to act on it. Maybe he'd let his guard down a little with three drinks in his system, but how many times had he made it clear that he didn't date at work? Not to mention the monumental, catastrophic conflicts of interest a personal relationship between the two of you would create. The papers would have a field day with that.

Are you really ready for your life to be scrutinised at every single opportunity by a pack of vultures? All of the headlines. Everything you have ever done talked about.

You knew he'd be worth it, though. But... then again... When isn't that man worth it?

Anyway, Sir Keir walking you home from the office after a drink became your new routine. Almost every time, you would  lace your arm through Keir's and lay your head on his shoulder. You'd walk silently, and each time you arrived at your door it became harder and harder not to kiss him goodnight.

Although one day everything got a little too much for you, your mum's death hit home more than ever that day so, when you knew he wasn't on a call, you walked into his office grabbed the spare glass, that had become yours now and poured a shot of Keir's whiskey. "Sorry. I needed that." You said and he chuckled softly before you both smiled at each other.

"I'm done here. Why don't we talk and we can drink together?" He asked and you smiled. He walked over to where you were sat and he sat down with you. "The wine is underneath."

"Thank you." You smiled.

The anxiety poured off of you in waves as you gently rocked the drink back and forth in your hand, ice clinking against the glass. "Talk to me." He whispered.

"I don't know, I just. I don't know." You said and he smiled softly. He shuffled closer and linked his arm through yours, much like the way you did to him when he was walking you home. Instead of leaning his head on your shoulder, however, Keir slid his fingers down your forearm until they reached yours and laced them together. You blinked at him in momentary surprise before you exhaled loudly and visibly relaxed, each of you facing the photo on the wall with a drink in one hand and your other hands linked away from view. He let out a long breath and felt relax as well.

This situation had been a bitch for Keir, too. It wasn't great for either of you. With you it was about your mum. With Keir it was the fact they weren't getting anywhere in breaking down the Prime minister's brick wall of lies. Not to mention the shitstorm that Kate had decided to bring to damage Sir Keir. You would love nothing more to punch that woman in the face. A simple punch to her face to let her know that you will defend Keir no matter what.

You drank in silence, each of you relishing the proximity of the other, your thumbs occasionally playing with one another.

When you decided to go home you linked your arm through his and laid your head on his shoulder like usual on the walk home, but this time you held onto Keir just  a little bit tighter. "Come up for another drink?"

You knew you shouldn't do this but oh well... at this point you he makes you feel safe and less stressed.

"Okay."

When he took off his jacket you noticed his arms straight away. His sleeves rolled so you had an idea on what was above. He smiled softly before walking with you to the sofa. You poured silently and, when you handed him his glass, your eyes met and the air felt still, almost heavy. You hesitated for a moment, then picked up yor glass.

"Cheers," you said quietly, and you clinked glasses together. You took a sip of your own scotch, but were far more interested in watching him take a healthy swig of his. Your head tilted back and your eyes closed as you relished the burning sensation. "God, I am so tired," you said, opening her eyes to meet his once again. He could see it probably - the shadows in your eyes, the weariness on your face. As much as you could wear makeup nothing could hide this much tiredness. He smiled weakly at you.

"I won't stay long, then," he promised.

"No, no...I didn't say that to rush you out. I won't sleep right now either way. It's...nice...to have your company."

You gestured for him to take a seat on the couch. He did, and you followed, bringing the bottle along with you. Visions of him in nothing but joggers maybe not even that holding you, limbs all entangled with yours as you sleept peacefully on his chest while he stroked your shoulders, maybe messing with your hair, flashed through your mind accompanied by a deep feeling of want.