It's kind of ridiculous, really, calling it a date. It's especially ridiculous, thinking of it as their first date.
Finn knows that there are a dozen freckles beneath her foundation, knows that she's got the barest whisper of a scar, low on her belly, from where doctors cut Grace out of her after almost two days of labor. He knows that she hated being pregnant, that she likes a cup of tea before her first hit of coffee, and that she snores, a little, when she's waking up from a dream. They have shared drinks in bars near the office, meals in restaurants near her apartment, and light-hearted arguments in the coffee shop near his. Last night, she hooked her ankles behind his back and held him deep inside of her as she spasmed around him, her head thrown back against his pillow, mouth open and screaming without making a sound. It was exquisite. She is exquisite.
It's ridiculous that this is their first date.
"This matters to me," he whispered into her hair last night. "I know I'm not supposed to say it, but it matters to me."
She brought his knuckles to her lips and nodded, eyes squeezed tight. "Shh," she urged him. "Sleeping."
He chuckled against her neck and held her close and, in the morning, he woke to find her watching him, her head propped up on her elbow. "Take me out tonight," she said. "Dinner. And drinks. A movie, maybe."
"Like a date?" he asked her, and she shrugged.
"If you want to call it that," she said. "Sure."
"Oh, it's a date then." He grinned and she leaned in to kiss him, her mouth smiling against his own.
It's ridiculous to call it a first date, but he's decided to make the most of it, so he picks her up at eight, flowers in hand. It's just a sad little bouquet from the bodega around the corner, a couple of fading roses, some wilting carnations, and entirely too much baby's breath. She laughs when she sees it. He thinks, in that moment, that it was absolutely worth the $9.95, just to hear that sound.
The waiter forgets her wine, twice, and his steak comes out medium well instead of medium rare. The teenagers behind them in the movie theater keep talking and throwing popcorn and after the third time she rolls her eyes he turns around to shush them. One of them laughs and calls him grampa.
It's probably the best date he's ever been on.
Alicia holds his hand in the elevator back up to her apartment, keeps holding it as they walk to her door and he pauses, in the doorway, and draws her close to him.
"I had a great time tonight," he whispers.
"Yeah?" She smiles, leans into him. "Me too."
He kisses her, then, soft and gentle, with his hand cupping her cheek. "'Night," he murmurs, stepping back through the doorway. He waits for it, for her, and when he hears her voice he can't help but smirk.
"You're not staying?"
He can't stop smirking when he turns around, hands in his pockets. "Hunh," he says, and he's enjoying this, drawing it out. "I never pegged you for the kind of girl who puts out on a first date."
She blinks, then laughs, and God he loves the sound of her laughter.
"C'mere," she says, holding out a hand for him.
"I mean, I'm a gentleman," he continues, not budging from his spot in the hallway. "And I want you to respect me in the morning."
"Finn." She rolls her eyes, impatient, and he tries to control his face but he can't.
He's grinning when he says, "You're cute when you're horny."
"Suit yourself," she murmurs, eyes dancing. "I'll just start without you."
He's pretty sure his jaw's still on the floor when the door closes behind them.