#how weird

You can't help the grimace that covers your face as you take in the colour of the room; it's a lot. You don't let that deter you though as you fully enter, kicking the door closed behind you, and drop your bag on the floor. 

You sit on the side of the bed facing the large mirror on the wall, fingers gliding over the material of the comforter; a little stiff but not the worst you've had to endure this trip. The mattress itself is a bit springy but it's also kind of firm which you like. 

You allow yourself to sit for a moment and just take a breath. 

Falling back against the bed you decide to close your eyes for a few minutes, unaware of the man staring at you from only a few feet away.

-- 

Miles knows this is wrong.

Knows he should be in his little closet sized room doing something else wrong but he just couldn't help himself. Your smile, your laugh, your genuine interest in what he was saying was just too captivating.

It's not like he's filming you, not that the dark thought hadn't crossed his mind, he's only watching. He tries to convince himself what he's doing is not that bad.

It could be worse.

Your soft demeanor seems to have a calming effect on his soul, something he hasn't felt since before he left for war.

He leans down and flicks the switch, the small crackle of the machine adds sound to the quiet hall before your voice fills the space. 

You're humming a tune and it takes him all but a second to realise it's the song that was playing in the lobby. He cant see your face, unfortunately, from the angle that you're laying in but he watches as you bring your hand to your chest and start playing with something; your necklace most likely. 

Although a dirtier more darker part of him wishes it was something else.

Miles takes a step back until he hits the cold concrete wall behind him, bringing his hands to his face to press the heels of his palms into his eyes, he doesn't stop until he starts to see stars behind the lids.

He's never done this before, he's only every come down to observe and watch when he's been told to. When he gets that call. He's normally very respectful of regular guests but there's something about you. Something sweet and alluring. Something the darker part of him wants. Craves

He takes one last look at you before flicking the switch off, your soft voice being cut out, as he quickly leaves the dark hallway. 

When he locks the door behind him he can hear the shrill alarm of the oven going off. 

His pies. He completely forgot.

-- 

After dragging yourself from the bed you had made your way to the shower, relieved to feel the hot water pulsing from the head. You admittedly had spent far longer in there then you intended but it felt far too good to get out, the images of the handsome concierge didn't at all help your situation. Maybe you should've had a cold shower instead? 

Here you sit on your bed now, lacing up your shoes as you finish getting ready to go out and find something to eat. You're still starving, the small bag of peanuts you had before your shower did nothing to help your hunger but you chose the comfort of the warm spray of water over food and now you're slightly regretting the long shower. 

Double checking to make sure you have your room key and purse you head down the covered walkway back to the lobby, a little surprised to see that it's already dark out. You hadn't noticed the time get away from you.

When you enter the lobby the first thing to hit you is the warmth, followed by how dark it is. There's light coming from the dessert display cases, a light behind the bar some small lamps on the tables in the booths here but not much other then that. 

You intend to ask Miles if there's a place around here to eat but just like check-in the man is nowhere to be seen.

As you make your way over to the counter you hear the faint grumblings of President Nixon going on about some such garbage that you don't really care to listen to coming from the small TV set, so you turn and head over to the display case of food on the opposite side of the room. 

You bite your bottom lip in contemplation, there's a few sandwiches; looking a little stale, some sad looking fruit and finally some slices of pie, there's a little paper note on the bottom of each plate labeling each selection in a messy scrawl; apple, strawberry, cherry or mix. 

Interesting.

While you were engrossed in the cases you didn't happen to notice or hear Miles entering, not until he stands several feet behind you and clears his throat. 

You swear you jump several feet in the air as you quickly spin to face the noise, hand tightly clutching your chest, "my god!" your breathing is a little fast as you take in the apologetic smile of Miles, "you're a quiet little thing when you want to be." 

He has the audacity to look sheepish but a little pleased as he once again apologises, "I'm really sorry, I tried to be a bit louder so I wouldn't scare you."

After taking several seconds for your heart to stop racing you let out a small chuckle, "didn't work."

You notice how he's a little more put together then he was this afternoon, not twitching as much and able to actually look you in the eye. 

It's actually a little intense.

"So.." you slightly trail off as you turn back towards the display case, "what would you suggest?"

He walks a bit closer to get a better look at the options and you take the opportunity to be a little creepy and smell him a bit. 

He smells like fruit and washing powder, an odd combination but not at all unpleasant. 

"Well, uh, I baked the pies this afternoon," he looks over at you with a proud grin and you can't help but smile back. He's so cute.

"A concierge and a cook?" You ask, impressed, "a man of many talents."

"I don't know about that," he chuckles a bit, "I never said the pies were good."

"I guess I'll be the judge of that," you turn fully to the case and take your purse from your pocket before you're stopped by Miles. 

"If you're going to rate my desserts you shouldn't have to pay," his smile is small but still there as he makes his way towards the case; ignoring your protest with his key in hand he unlocks the glass door. 

"Trying to butter up the judge?" you playfully ask as he grabs two small plates of sliced pie.

"If I was going to do that I would go and get the ice cream," he grins and makes his way over to a booth, you obediently following behind him. 

"Well now I'm definitely taking a point off for no ice cream," you grumble with a smile as you take a seat.

Miles breathes out a laugh through his nose, an easy smile on his face and heads back over to the display case to get the other two flavours of pie and two forks. 

"So, which is which?" you ask, gently turning the slices of pies to get a better look at their fillings as he sits down and places the forks on the table.

"Apple, strawberry, cherry, mixed," he points to each one as he names it, he takes note of the small confusion as he points to the fourth, "I had extra filling left over so I made a smaller pie," he shrugs.

"Ah, very smart," you praise as you pick up a fork and pull the strawberry pie a little closer to you, "have you tried any yet?" you nod towards the desserts.

"I had some of the cherry before putting it into the oven," he picks up his fork and waits for you to start, "it was good." 

"I'll decide that," you smile, and he laughs a bit, as you cut the tip of the pie off with the side of your fork, making sure to get a decent amount of crust and filling before scooping it into your mouth. 

Miles watches you with baited breath, trying to gauge your reaction. To your credit you try very hard to keep a neutral expression but your facade falls and you let out a small groan.

If you hadn't gone to fork another piece you would have seen the tips of Miles' ears go red and his face flush a deep crimson.

"This is so good!" you praise before taking another bite. Your hunger make itself more evident now that you've had a taste of food.

Your praise snaps him out of his trance and he gives you a warm smile, "yeah?"

"Yes!" you nod, "try some," pushing the plate with little force in his direction, stopping when it's in the middle of the table between you. 

"Okay," it's soft and a little shy but he eagerly digs his fork into the pie, a small thrill runs through you as you watch him share the dessert. The whole thing feeling entirely too intimate but you can't find it in yourself to stop.

You admit that if Miles was a different person, perhaps loud and brash you might not want to spent much time in his presence but he's completely the opposite of that. Gentle and shy, mysterious and intriguing. A soft riddle you want to solve.

You can tell the moment the pie hits his tongue because his eyes widen and light up a bit, "huh," he nods, trying his hardest to stay modest, "not bad."

"'Not bad'," you scoff and playfully roll your eyes, "such a humble chef." 

You go to break off another peace and he follows your lead smiling as he does. 

"Where'd you learn to bake?" you ask the question casually but you notice his shoulders stiffen a bit.

He takes his time chewing the mouthful of pastry before finally answering your question, "my Grandma taught me."

You take in his hesitancy before replying, "I think she'd be proud of this," you point the fork at the crumbs now lingering the empty plate, feeling slightly guilty you ate much more then Miles.

If he cares, he doesn't show it.

"Oh, this wouldn't even compare to hers," his laugh is a tad depreciating, "hers tasted like home," the last part was said much quieter and a with a little sadness.

The look on his face makes you want to climb across the table and hold him; instead you gently place your hand on his, to your relief he doesn't shake it off or remove it. The urge to sooth him is overwhelming and you have to take a second to mentally pull yourself back.

You met this guy this afternoon and have barely been around him for an hour and yet you're ready to risk it all for him. How desperate are you?

He clears his throat and puts on a small smile before pushing the apple pie in your direction, "ready for more?"

Okay, yeah, you're very desperate. 

"Mhm," you hum, not really trusting your voice at the moment. You take note of how cold your hand feels now that it's no longer touching his warm one.

Pull it together!

"Apple," your voice comes out a little rougher then you'd hope, "a classic," you bite your bottom lip as you cut off a piece and bring it up for a taste. 

Your hand stutters slightly as you notice Miles' burning eyes focused solely on your lips. You quickly place the for in your mouth but you're so distracted by Miles you don't really taste it before chewing and swallowing. 

"It's, um, it's very good," you nervously laugh avoiding Miles' gaze as you go in for more. 

He's once again snapped from his trance, letting out a heavy breath as he takes a scoop of the apple and quickly pushes it into his mouth. 

"Your verdict?" you ask, feeling your cheeks heat up watching him swallow. 

What is going on with you?

"You're the judge," his shy smile is back, like it never left, "you tell me."

You playfully laugh as you take another bite, fully intending to actually taste the pie this time. You take a minute after swallowing to answer him.

"Apple isn't my favourite type of pie," you start, "but the cinnamon really brings out the flavour," you complement, "would be nicer with cream though," you joke.

It was meant as a jest but Miles answers like his mouth was faster then his brain. 

"Cream pies are the best," your eyes go wide as he tries to stutter out a response, "cream w-with pies, cream is good on pies," you can see the horror in his eyes as he talks.

The room goes still, awkward tension fills the air but you can't help but add to that. 

"I like cream pies," you wink as you reach over and grab the cherry pie, feeling pretty satisfied when you hear Miles let out a choked cough, "I'll admit cherries are my favourite so you better not have messed this up," you add playfully, like you didn't just send his mind spiraling.

"Mine too," is all he can manage to say after a long pause, his voice is soft but the grip he has on the fork looks like it's enough to bend the metal. 

This time the groan you let out is not all for the taste of the pie, its exaggerated and you close your eyes just for show, "So good, Miles." 

He quickly scoops up what was left of the apple pie into his mouth, something to distract him from the problem he's now facing. 

"I don't know if I want to share this," you open your eyes and give him your most innocent smile, "it's the best one."

After a beat and a small breath he replies.

"There's more in the case," it's his turn for his voice to be rough, "you can have as much as you like."

"Don't tease me," you laugh, "I might just take you up that." 

The pie really is the best of the three, you haven't tried the fourth one yet but you've already picked a clear winner. 

"Here," you cut off a generous portion of the pastry and filling and hold it up, "taste it."

Miles can no longer hold back the small groan that's been lingering at the back of his throat as he eagerly leans forward and wraps his lips around your fork, all the while keeping eye contact. 

All the control you thought you had and all the confidence suddenly vanishes as you watch him slowly eat the pie from your fork. Your breathing is once again coming out heavy as you watch him slowly chew, eyes burning into yours before swallowing.

A small bit of juice has gathered on his bottom lip and before you can lean over and do something about it his tongue darts out, swiping over the sweet liquid, there really isn't that much but just to be sure he make a show of bringing his thumb up and swiping over his lip before sucking the tip into his mouth.

You harshly push the plates to the side and lean up in your seat to kiss him, he follows your lead as you grab handfuls of his white button-up shirt but just before you can crash your lips to his the front door to the lobby opens and a man and woman walk in, loudly chatting between themselves.

You hear Miles let out a small sound, something between a whimper and a groan, which if you weren't annoyed at being interrupted would have definitely done something to you. 

You can't help but pout when he stands up, taking a second to straighten up his now crumpled shirt before heading over to attend the couple that are now ringing the bell at the front desk. 

With the tension gone and the mood ruined you grab the last piece of pie and head back to your room, you would have maybe stayed but you can over hear the man talking about having a few drinks at the bar, and you doubt there's a bartender other the Miles here. 

You briefly make eye contact with Miles as you open the door, his jaw is clenched and his shoulders are straight, you let out a humourless chuckle at the look he sends the woman when she asks for the introductory tour.