Summary: After Madeleine’s bachelorette party, Drake and Mika have a conversation and a moment in between.
Note: I must confess, I really cannot see (and don’t want to see) Drake and Kiara together. So this mostly came about because I have zero desire to see that happen.
The bachelorette party is like none Mika has ever been to before. Most of them have involved lots of alcohol, X-rated gag gifts, and someone drinking too much and sobbing in a bathroom. Madeleine’s party starts out with fancy hors d’oeuvres that Mika can’t identify, in a pretentious restaurant that she can’t pronounce the name of, and Madeleine opening impersonal gifts that Mika can tell she doesn’t care about.
When Regina and Adelaide finally excuse themselves back to the train, Mika hopes everyone else will follow suit, but instead, the servers wheel out carts of liquor that she’s pretty sure cost more than her monthly rent. She groans silently to herself, hoping that at some point soon, everyone will be intoxicated enough that she can slip away. But Madeleine barely drinks, and neither does Hana, so Mika resigns herself to the fact that she’ll be here for a while. She persuades Hana to teach her a few curse words in Italian, and tries to hide her laughter over Olivia’s devil-may-care comments.
As the evening wears on, Mika can see Madeleine getting more and more irritated as Penelope starts trying to tell everyone who walks in the names of her poodles, until Mika finally guides her to one of the plush couches in the lounge area. Penelope laments that she’ll never find anyone who wants her, and Mika pats her hand. “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” she reassures her. “You don’t really want a man who’s uptight and boring and doesn’t like poodles, do you?”
“No,” Penelope hiccups, then suddenly grabs Mika in a tight hug.
“Ow,” Mika says quietly as Penelope envelops her in a surprisingly tight grip.
“Thanks, Mika,” Penelope nearly sobs. “You’re a good friend.”
Everyone else wanders over to them after a while, Kiara plopping next to Mika.
“My head,” she moans. “Is the room spinning?”
“No,” Mika says, handing her a glass of water. “Drink this. You’ll feel better.”
She gulps it down, then mutters something in French. “I am never drinking again,” she declares a minute later.
Kiara rests her head against the back of the couch. “It’s too bad the men couldn’t join us,” she sighs.
Madeleine frowns. “Yes, because being a drunken embarrassment is the perfect way to attract a potential husband.”
Kiara rolls her eyes, then starts giggling. “I bet Drake wouldn’t mind. He’d probably take care of me.”
Olivia snorts into her drink. “Right.”
Kiara either doesn’t hear her or ignores her, and Mika finds herself gritting her teeth as Kiara prattles on about how attractive Drake is, how strong, how he should walk around with his shirt off more often. Mika feels herself growing unreasonably jealous. She has no claim on Drake, but part of her thinks of him as hers, and she considers herself his, even if she can’t say it to anyone else. She knows he has feelings for her, and she feels like she’d know if he thought of any of the other former suitors as anything more than just another lady of the court.
But they’re not officially anything. He won’t let them be, and while she understands it, how it’s for her safety and because of his loyalty to Liam, she’s growing increasingly more frustrated. Mika feels like she could scream how she feels about him from the rooftop, and he’d still be in disbelief.
When Kiara loudly announces that she wouldn’t mind Drake taking her home drunk, Mika decides it’s time to call it a night. It is late, and the women who have been drinking are all nearly asleep on the couches and chairs, which is the reason she gives for everyone returning to the train. It’s a logical explanation, even if part of the reason is because she doesn’t want to listen to Kiara talk about Drake anymore.
When they finally make it back to the train, Mika settles Penelope into her sleeper car, smiling affectionately as the woman gives her another tight hug. Mika slips into her own car, sighing and rubbing her forehead. She’s tired, but she hasn’t been sleeping well lately, so she changes into pajamas and throws her robe on, then steps outside, breathing in the cool night air.
The train is silent, and she relishes being able to let her guard down. This tour is further cementing her realization that she isn’t meant to be queen. The role she’s playing, of the chastened American, the overly-polite, prim and proper lady of the court, is suffocating. It’s not who she is, not who she wants to be, and it’s a relief when she can just be herself for a minute.
She cranes her head back as she hears someone approaching the steps off the train, recognizing the familiar figure who comes to stand beside her.
“What are you doing out here so late?” Drake asks with a yawn, running a hand over his hair.
“We just got back. I can’t sleep,” she answers, drinking in his sleep-rumpled form.
She swallows hard as he turns to look at her. He looks so relaxed and at ease when he’s still half-asleep. Her fingers itch to run through his mussed dark hair, to glide under his t-shirt and over his bare stomach, to take his face in her hands and touch her lips to his.
“How was the party?” Drake asks.
“Fantastic,” she deadpans.
Drake chuckles. “I’m sure. Tiny food and expensive drinks with all those ladies of the court? Who could ask for more?”
Mika rolls her eyes but can’t hide her smile. “I’d rather have pizza and spaghetti at a low-key restaurant,” she says, and her smile broadens when she sees a faint blush rise up Drake’s cheeks in the moonlight.
“Yeah, well…” he trails off, then says, “You don’t sound too drunk.”
“I’m not. I had two drinks.”
“Life of the party, huh, Kelemen?” he teases her.
Mika shrugs, shivering and wrapping her arms around herself as a cool breeze swoops by them.
“I wasn’t in the mood to drink. And trust me, what I didn’t drink was more than made up for.”
“Hmm,” he says. “Let me guess. Olivia mocked everyone. Penelope drank too much and talked about her poodles. And Kiara started lecturing everyone in French or German or any of the other fifty languages she speaks.”
Mika snorts out a laugh. “You’re mostly right.”
Drake looks at her curiously, frowning when he notices the look on her face. “You look annoyed.”
She scuffs the toe of her heel on the ground, staring down. “No. I just got tired of Kiara going on and on about you,” she mutters, and regrets the words instantly.
Why can’t she just keep her mouth shut? It’s not Drake’s fault Kiara likes him, or got drunk and talked about him nonstop, or…that he has a tiny smile on his face? That does annoy her and makes the jealousy surge through her again, much to her irritation. She doesn’t get jealous. She has no reason to be jealous. She needs to go to bed before she says something she regrets.
“I’m going to bed,” she announces abruptly, turning and heading back into the train.
Mika hears Drake call her name and follow after her, but she ignores him. The thought of Kiara and Drake together refuses to leave her thoughts, even though she keeps trying to tell herself there’s nothing there and the idea is laughable. Drake is right behind her when she opens her door, and she closes her eyes when he gently touches her shoulder.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” he says in a low voice, and she wants to tell him nothing, that she’ll see him in the morning, because she’s not sure she trusts herself alone in a tiny sleeper car with Drake Walker.
But he’s looking at her so earnestly, looking genuinely lost at her reaction, that she can’t send him away. So she lets him in, fumbling for the light switch and taking her robe off, both of them toeing their shoes off next to the door as she closes it.
They’re silent for a few moments, Drake watching her settle on the bed and pick at a loose thread on her pajama pants. Finally, she sighs and says, “It’s stupid. It just got really weird listening to Kiara talk about how hot you are, and how strong, and…” she trails off, frowning as that tiny smile crosses his face again.
“And you’re smiling about it again, and it just bugs me,” she bursts out.
Drake laughs, shaking his head. “Mika. I’m smiling because the thought of someone like Kiara thinking of me that way is ridiculous.”
“Well, she does.”
“Well, I don’t care,” he retorts. “I don’t think of her that way.”
She’s aware of Drake walking over and sitting down on the edge of the bed as she curls her toes into the starch white sheets.
“Mika. I don’t like Kiara.”
“I know,” she mutters.
She glances up at him. “Am I making a mistake here, Drake?” she whispers.
His brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
“I came back to clear my name…but I also came back for you,” she says quietly. “And I know you don’t want me to…decide anything until this is done and over with.”
She slips her hand over his, twining their fingers together, searching his eyes. “But my decision is going to be the same then as it is now. I want you. And if you’re just going to tell me no at the end, then I might as well-“
She stops, breath catching in her throat as he cups her cheek and leans in, pressing his lips to hers. It’s soft and gentle, a kiss full of reassurance and promise. He pulls back briefly. “I’m not going to tell you no,” he murmurs against her lips. “If you still want me-“
“I will,” she interrupts him. “No matter how many times you question it.”
Drake groans, leaning back in, kissing her again as his hands tangle in her hair. Mika scoots down, urging him over her and sighing as his weight presses her into the bed. She inches her hands under his shirt, tickling her fingertips along his back and stomach, then tugs at the hem of it impatiently. Drake sits up briefly to pull his shirt over his head, groaning when she yanks her shirt off too and they lay skin to skin.
“Mmm,” she sighs, bending her knees so he can settle between her legs.
Drake brushes his mouth over hers, biting her lower lip gently until she parts her lips and he can tangle his tongue with hers. His hand roams slowly down the side of her breast, over her waist, and around her hip as he starts kissing her with a sense of impatience and urgency. She whimpers when he pulls back, until she feels his lips and his teeth tease over her neck and collarbone. Her hips arch against him instinctively, and she sucks in a breath when she feels how much he wants her. She lets her hands wander down his chest and stomach, through the smattering of coarse dark hair and down to the waistband on his pants. Drake groans again as their hips collide, and she wraps a leg around his back, grinding desperately against him.
“We shouldn’t,” he says in a strangled voice, even as he moves against her.
“I want you,” she moans, pulling the tie on his pajama pants loose until she can slip her hand inside.
“Fuck,” he hisses as she takes him in her hand, and she shivers at the feel of him.
His teeth sink into her shoulder as she runs her hand over him, thrusting against her and moving one of his hands between her legs, his fingers rubbing over her pajama pants and underwear. Heat and desire pool low in her belly as she arches into him again and again, his name falling off her lips, but she wants more, wants to feel him with nothing between them. She slides her hand out and pushes at the waistband of his pants, confused and frustrated when he stops her.
“Mika, we can’t,” he groans, rolling to the side with what seems like great effort.
“I want you,” he says, closing his eyes briefly and taking a few deep breaths. “But I don’t want this to be some secret you have to carry around with you. I don’t want anything hanging over our heads.”
He turns her face towards his, brushing his lips sweetly over hers. She’s impatient and wants him, badly, but she understands where he’s coming from, even as part of her wants to scream in frustration.
“I’m not good at waiting,” she mutters. “I’m tired of waiting.”
“I know,” Drake says apologetically.
He kisses her again, his lips barely touching hers, until he finally sighs and climbs out of the bed, pulling his shirt and shoes back on. She can’t help but tease him a little as he straightens up. “Though I have a feeling the wait will be worth it,” she says with a smile.
Drake groans. “Really, Mika?”
She looks up at him innocently. “Hey. You kissed me first.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles.
Mika laughs quietly as she puts her shirt back on and makes her way over to him. “I’m not complaining.”
Drake smiles, his cheeks turning faintly pink as she loops her arms around his neck and stands on her tiptoes, pressing her lips to his. “See you tomorrow?” she murmurs against his mouth.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”