I don't own the characters, or Iron Man. I also don't spoil the movie; I promise.
The date discussed takes place a few days after the most recent episode, then the story picks up a day or two after that.
Lindsay sat down uncomfortably in the plastic chair, wincing at the squeaking of the metal as she settled in. Of course I get the broken chair. Can anything go right today? She set her soda on the sticky table and opened her energy bar. Six minutes for lunch was barely enough to eat anything worthy. She'd learned that little gem on her first day of work.
She looked over at Alex Atlee, sitting a table away from her. She grinned at him hopefully. He grimaced at her, wrinkled his nose, and turned away. Lindsay sighed. Another failed attempt at reconciliation.
The past week, Lindsay and Alex had gone out to lunch. Lindsay had been positive of the circumstances – why on earth would Alex be interested in her romantically? She hadn't even been sure that the guy was straight. Atlee was a short man with broad shoulders and immobile hair. When he would shake his head fiercely, not a single strand would move from its place. It reminded Lindsay of an SOS pad, gnarled and stiff. It was even the color of grease – brown and icky. But he'd seemed to be nice enough – he smiled in the hallways and joked around with her.
So she'd agreed to meet him for lunch. Lindsay had been was positive that it was a date between friends. But when Atlee had called her beautiful, assumed he was paying for the lunch, walked her home, and then kissed her, Lindsay had not been so sure.
As Atlee's too-mushy lips pressed against hers, her eyes had slammed open. Stunned. She'd sat, wondering how she'd given him any signal at all that she even wanted to be kissed, unable to move.
She leaped into action after she felt Atlee's mouth slowly open, hinting at what the kiss could evolve into. She pressed her hands to his shoulders and slowly moved him away, eyes still shocked and open.
"Um, Alex?" Her voice had been higher than normal. Nervous.
He'd smiled gently at her.
"I'm not … I don't feel that way for you."
His jaw had set. "You gave every impression that you did," he'd said firmly.
"Uh, no. No, I didn't," she'd said softly.
"Well maybe you're just a slut," he'd said quickly, stomping off.
She'd been too shocked to answer, but she was able to see why he was so crude. She'd hurt him. She'd stared off sadly at him, had watched him hail a cab with one last glare at her, and saw him speed away in a flash of yellow.
She'd sighed and turned to her apartment building. Then she called Danny. She didn't mention the date, didn't mention the kiss. She'd been too shocked. She'd just wanted to hear his voice. They'd still been playing their little game then – tiny steps forwards, tiny steps back. Still trying to re-evaluate their relationship.
That night, they'd had the conversation that had changed things for them. She'd caved. She'd missed him too much not to take him back, despite what he'd done to her. They were still uneasy with each other. Danny was still careful to stay on his toes around her.
As she slowly snacked on her energy bar, she thought about the rumors floating around in the lab. She'd heard the first through Kendall, that Atlee had mentioned that Lindsay was a 'cold-hearted bitch with no class.'
It hadn't hurt Lindsay so much as it had made her feel bad. She hadn't been angry at Atlee. She'd decided that meant she should apologize to him. She'd found him in the locker room. She'd told him that she was in a relationship with someone, and that was the only reason she hadn't accepted the kiss. She hadn't mentioned that his breath had smelled like dead sheep.
The next rumor came through Kyle, another lab tech, who'd asked Lindsay if it was true that she gave blowjobs for money.
That was a no.
The third had come through Morgan, a sweet woman in her fifties who worked the coffee cart, who'd told Lindsay that she could quit her life of adultery and prostitution through the church, and that if Lindsay would accept Jesus into her heart, then all of her sins would be forgiven.
Lindsay had politely declined.
She was still hesitant to yell at Atlee. She wanted him to forgive her, nothing more. Maybe a slap across the face wouldn't hurt, though. But then again, Lindsay wasn't exactly a confrontational person, and unless Atlee was willing to talk to her head on, then she wasn't going to say anything to him about it. She couldn't even be sure that the rumors were from him, anyways.
She sighed and got up from her chair, dropping the energy bar wrapper into the trashcan and picking up her soda.
"Bitch," she heard him hiss as she walked past him.
She turned, opened her mouth to speak, then closed it and moved on.
When she got home that day, she threw her shoe at the wall. It made a satisfactory dent above her microwave, a small, concave circle where the heel hit. She grinned and went over to her blinking message machine.
She gasped at the number of unheard messages. How could she possibly have received seventy-four calls in one day? She hit play.
No message lasted longer than four or five seconds. She stood above the machine for the entire time, holding her mail in one hand and her keys in the other, hands hovering above the play button. The crackling sounds of each message disturbed her to an extreme level, just static and the hush of the city. As the recorded voice on the machine informed her that there were no other messages, she sat on the couch with a shaky sigh.
Could one man possibly harbor that much resentment after one simple misunderstanding? She couldn't understand it. She told herself that it wasn't possible – that it was some kind of mistake.
The shrill cry of the phone brought her out of her thoughts. Her head perked up and she stared at it for a beat, unsure of what to do.
By the third ring she whipped it off of the holder and screamed into it: "Why are you doing this?"
"Doin' what?" Danny asked with a laugh.
Lindsay sighed in relief. "Oh. It's just you."
"Hey, thanks for the enthusiasm."
Lindsay smiled. "Was it a joke? Is that why you left the messages?"
"What messages?"
Lindsay sat up. "N-never mind," she stuttered.
Danny was silent for a moment. "Y'alright, Montana? Somethin' wrong?"
"No, I'm fine. I'm fine. What were you calling about?"
"Wanna go out tonight? You know, dinner and a movie or somethin'?"
"Like a date?" she asked, smiling.
"Yeah, I guess."
"Where?"
"That Moroccan joint near my place. Pick you up in half an hour?"
"Um, can you come now?" her voice was shakier than she'd anticipated. She hoped he wouldn't pick up on it.
He laughed. "Wasssa rush, Montana? Miss me already?"
She gave a half-hearted giggle. "Something like that."
"Be there in ten."
She shut her phone and set it on the table.
She threw on a flowy, silky blue top, her new gold heels, and her favorite jeans and waited for Danny. He arrived quicker than he'd promised, the distinct hum of his bike announcing his presence. She hopped off her couch when she heard him approach and raced down to meet him, locking her door behind her.
She met him at the first floor, catching him just as he swung open the door.
The second she saw him, she threw her arms around him and kissed him. He was surprised at first, but recovered quickly and pressed her against the wall. He put one hand around her neck to hold her in place and the other on her breast, gently massaging her.
They stayed that way for a few minutes, making out against the wall. Finally, Danny pulled back and grinned.
"What's up?" he asked with a smirk.
She grinned back at him, holding in her irrational worries. He noticed anyways, searching her eyes and touching her cheek with a finger.
"Wassa matter, you alright?"
"I'm fine, Danny. We should go, though. Are we seeing a movie?"
"Uh, yeah, Iron Man," he said distractedly, eyes still searching hers.
"Great!" she said, grabbing his hand and dragging him to the bike. She pulled out his extra helmet and put it on, smiling at him.
He hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should push her further or let her be. He finally resolved to deal with it later in the night. He kissed her once more before taking his own helmet and swinging a leg over the bike.