A/N : Hello! Now, don't worry. "Strangers" will be getting going again very soon. The end is in sight for my split-between-three-sites placement, and I'm due for a little time off over the holidays and before my first job as a Registered MHN starts (eep...). That means I'll have a lot more time to write, thanks for being so patient and continuing to review and read my stuff. I appreciate you all enormously.

In the meantime, I received a terrific prompt from brokenhaleluja14, who would like to see a few of Angela and Peter's first dates. I have more of these in mind, and yes you read that right : Date 3. Dates 1 and 2... well, you'll just have to wait for them won't you? Enjoy and thanks for the prompt! xx

Date Number Three was, quite literally, a wash-out. It had been a warm, cloudy day, not perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but it was the only one they had off together in weeks. With Angela studying for her English finals and Peter spending most of his free time in the Danger Room lately, they just hadn't fit in a date. At last she put her foot down, and was stuck with this overcast, muggy Saturday afternoon. Possibly the worst day possible for pushing through the crowds of the Chelsea Fleamarket.

If I wasn't in love, Angela thought to herself as a large woman almost elbowed her in the chest, I'd be so pissed right now….

Stalls loaded with clothes, antiques, books, even discounted furniture packed out the space, the thoroughfares crowded with tourists and locals. From somewhere she could smell pierogi, somewhere else freshly frying doughnuts. There were too many people, too many noises, too many interesting smells, and the boy at her side was drawing closer with every close encounter with a passerby. Suddenly, with a sinking heart, she realised that Peter wasn't just being affectionate by drawing so close. She could feel tremors in his arm that gripped her waist tightly, glanced up to see him with set jaw and wide, terrified eyes.

I have the best ideas sometimes. She thought bitterly, pulled her hand from his back pocket to grasp him tightly around the waist, scanned the market for something resembling an open space. Let's take a guy who hates crowds, strangers, enclosed spaces, and can't handle too much stimulation to one of the busiest places in the City today, Angela, I'm sure NOTHING could go wrong there.

Beside her, Peter was shaking like a leaf. Much more of this and he'd be weeping. Finally, Angela saw salvation in a small coffee shop behind a stall – so hidden away that the inside through the leaded glass windows looked blessedly quiet and empty. She steered them toward it with a wrench, dragged Peter through the door. He collapsed down into a sofa gratefully, still breathing hard when she returned to him with a glass of water and a coffee for her. Sipped the water with shaking hands for a while before he had finally whispered.

"Sorry…. I didn't mean to –"

"Freak out? Look like you were going to cry? Wish you were somewhere else?"

"Yeah" he admitted, "All of the above"

Gently, she scooted herself closer to him on the sofa until their hips were touching. Laid her arm across his narrow back, still shuddering slightly. She was getting used to that shake, the thrumming energy that seemed to vibrate through his body at all times, but especially when he got emotional for any reason. Rubbed her palm soothingly between his shoulderblades until he had looked up. The hangdog look of apology and regret on his face almost broke her heart.

"Don't be sorry for being you" she told him softly. Leaned and pressed her lips against his cheek for the briefest of instants. Knew that even after that tiny kiss, her cheeks were flushing. "I didn't think. I should have known you'd hate this"

That shy, sweet smile pulled at his lips, he dropped his eyes in that way he had that somehow entranced her. Made her want to scoop him up in the tightest hug she had in her every time he did it. She knew a tiny shrug was coming, it arrived right on cue.

"It was a cool idea" he said. "Just, y'know…"

"One of the worst cool ideas ever" she finished for him, squeezed him to her side, "Let's just stay here for a while then go home. We can still hang out"

Before they had been sat for five minutes, however, there was a bright flash of light. A roll of thunder followed, and then the heavens opened. Rain began to pour down in sheets on the shoppers, soon turning the windows of the café into an impenetrable waterfall.

By the time Angela had finished her coffee and they had investigated the outside world again, the street was almost unrecognisible. Tarpaulins had materialised over the piles of goods, vendors sheltering back but hovering close enough to the few remaining people that they could still pitch to them with a desperate edge to their barking. The crowds had vanished, all run for shelter from the pouring rain. Those die-hard tourists not driven back to their hotels were looking increasingly miserable, tennis shoes squelching with each step and I Heart NYC t-shirts becoming transparent.

"You want me to get us home quick?" Peter offered. His hair was already flopped wet onto his face, turned a duller grey by the water. Angela smiled, shook her head.

"I don't mind the rain" she told him. Slipped her arm through his, "And the crowds are gone now"

"I… kinda don't like getting wet, hon" he admitted

"Oh what you afraid you'll shrink? C'mon it's only a little water. It's kind of romantic isn't it?"

"In a wet, unpleasant, cold kinda way" Peter grumbled. Beside him, Angela rolled her eyes, carried on strolling beside him. In front of them, the sidewalk had sunk a little and a large puddle had formed. She eyed it gleefully, slowed them down and held tight to Peter's arm when he tried to step around it. Gave him a wicked glance

"Don't you dare" he warned her, "Angie…"

Unwilling to let her go in what was still an unfamiliar place, loathe to dodge in case he bumped into one of the few remaining people or overturned a stall, and not too comfortable with showing his gifts so publicly, Peter stood whilst his companion launched herself with both booted feet into the centre of the puddle. In a moment his jeans were soaked up to the knee in cold water.

"Why?!" he hissed at her, "Did you HAVE to?!"

Angela only laughed at him. In consternation he stamped hard in the puddle and sent a spray of water over her already-soaked shoes and splashing up her legs under her skirt. She gasped at the suddenness, then laughed again. Kicked another spray of water at him and dodged out of his grip, running over to where another large puddle was forming. He followed, and a grinning stand-off ensued to see who would manage to jump and splash the other first. This time Peter won, and Angela giggled and screeched as dirty street water splashed up at her.

Most of the way back to their main route home, they had launched themselves in puddles, laughed like naughty children every time one would be splashed. Oblivious to the looks of consternation and occasional colourful exclamation from the disgruntled foot traffic who were caught by their game. At last Angela had tired, dropping to grasp his hand in hers, a little breathless. Looked up at him smiling back at her with the anxious glitter vanished from his eyes. Cool, soft skin against her palm, long fingers wrapped around hers firmly. Didn't need to say a word to communicate their happiness, and simply walked on toward a hot-dog stand Peter had spotted.

A/N : Any ideas for future dates for these two cuties will be gratefully received :-)