a/n : back by (somewhat) popular demand, here's a follow-up to When Lightning Strikes Twice! Can a fic with the word 'twice' in the title really have only one chapter? I suppose not. I don't often get convinced to expand upon a oneshot, but there were a few of you who made some excellent points via review and PM, so here we are :) I will say, however, that writing this one kind of felt like work..? So my apologies if it isn't up to par. I was def on the struggle bus.

Also - happy belated birthday to Gracielinn! This one goes out to you, friend :)


This weekend is turning out to be far less simple than the one he'd imagined.

Rufus had made a potent pitcher of celebratory mojitos on Friday after calling it quits on the video game, insisting that they toast to Wyatt and Lucy's new relationship several times over. Lucy had grimaced over the rim of her first drink, giving Rufus an accusatory look as she asked if he'd accidentally spilled the whole bottle of rum when he'd been mixing up the pitcher. Wyatt couldn't disagree with her. It was a hell of a strong mojito, but it hadn't really mattered much to him since he'd limited himself to just one drink. He was the one driving home, after all, plus he knew how to handle his alcohol...within reason.

But somewhere between her third and fourth glass - all of which Rufus had steadily poured without pause - it became obvious that Lucy wasn't quite holding her own.

"What exactly are you doing?" Wyatt had growled at Rufus after Lucy staggered her way to the bathroom with a sloshing drink still in hand. "I feel like you're the one who's trying to get lucky tonight, and in the sleaziest way possible, I might add."

"What?" he'd replied in horror. "I understand that you're now officially in the honeymoon phase of a real relationship, but get your brain out of the gutter, dude. My master plan is to keep the libations flowing for long enough to make her forget all about that game of Trivial Pursuit. At the very least, this should give us a chance of actually keeping up with her if she still insists on playing."

But she hadn't insisted. With the fourth mojito down and a fifth one in hand, she'd plead with them to turn the video game back on and let her take a crack at "massacring those damn zombies."

The result had admittedly been hilarious. Who didn't want to witness Lucy clumsily smacking at the buttons on her controller while simultaneously spewing a litany of frustrated curse words every time her player died on screen? But ultimately, the evening hadn't ended anywhere near the way that Wyatt had initially hoped it would. There were worse ways to end a Friday than throwing a snoring Lucy over his shoulder and carrying her up to the apartment with his keys in hand, but as he settled her onto his bed and took off her shoes, he couldn't deny the small twinge of disappointment that buzzed in the back of his head. He wasn't sure how to proceed with the rest of her clothing, wasn't even sure if he should crawl in next to her or swap her for couch duty until they could talk more candidly about the potential for new sleeping arrangements.

Armed with the memory of Lucy draping herself across him as they'd sat together on Rufus' couch just a few hours ago, he couldn't convince himself that she'd really want him to slink off to the living room for the night. So he'd rearranged the sheets over the both of them, fastened an arm around her waist, and breathed in the enticing scent of her hair fanning out across the pillowcase until he couldn't keep his eyes open for a moment longer.

The bed had been regrettably devoid of Lucy when he woke the next morning, but her absence didn't last for very long. There was a hum from not far away, something that Wyatt could distinguish as the faucet running in the adjoining bathroom once he'd blinked the dredges of sleepiness from his head. Then the water shut off and there she was a moment later, her lithe - and barely covered - body creeping into view in the pale morning light.

"Hey," he'd muttered hoarsely, glad for the excuse of just waking up to disguise the other reason his voice hadn't come out quite right.

"Hey back," Lucy smiled shyly, the hem of his old ARMY t-shirt rising and dipping in a way that absorbed all of his attention as she toed her way across the room. "I, um, woke up in the middle of the night and...and I hope you don't mind that I grabbed something more comfortable to wear before falling back asleep. The skinny jeans were not doing it for me."

The flimsiness of that explanation didn't escape him. She'd lived with him for a few weeks now, meaning she had several pairs of her own pajamas arranged neatly in a suitcase just one room over. She easily could have chosen to go retrieve them if she'd been uncomfortable, not that he was one to complain. The sight of her long bare legs peeking out from under a shirt that belonged to him was something he could readily get used to; he might even find himself encouraging it.

"Huh," he'd grunted with a half-smile. "That's interesting, because those skinny jeans on you were definitely doing it for me last night."

She beamed in response before glancing sheepishly away from him. "Is that right?"

"Oh yeah," he answered as his smile extended wider, "I'm a fan. Although this current look of yours is even better."

His hands had locked around her as soon as the mattress dipped under her slight weight, rolling her into him so that he could stamp a good morning kiss to her upturned lips. He'd backed away with a pang, however, once her earlier words finally permeated his desire-addled brain. "You woke up last night? Were you okay or -"

"No nightmares if that's what you're asking," she'd said cryptically.

He raised an inquisitive brow at her, prompting an embarrassed laugh as she turned her head into the nearest pillow.

"Just too many of those damn mojitos."

Wyatt sat up with a frown, twisting sideways to look down at her in complete confusion. "You were sick? How the hell can I hear you having a bad dream from here to the living room but not know when you leave my own bed because frickin' Rufus poisoned you?"

She watched him carefully with a crinkled brow, only a small spark of amusement reaching her eyes at his vehement words. "Well, you did sort of stir for a second when I first got up, but I told you it was okay and that was the end of it. You were out again in a split-second. Made me wonder if you still weren't feeling one hundred percent recovered from the night before..."

"Oh please, I'm fine," he grumbled irritably. "I'm not the one who had to kneel before the porcelain gods, now am I?"

"It wasn't that bad. Gave me a chance to chug down a bottle of water and a few Advil afterwards, which was definitely a good thing." Lucy pulled him down with her fingers tangled in the collar of his shirt, her lips smoothing across his forehead as he sagged into the pillow next to her. "So...wanna tell me what prompted that little blackout session of yours on Thursday night?"

Wyatt ducked his head until his mouth found the unthinkably tender skin below her earlobe. "I'd rather tell you something else..."

The shiver that went through her produced a thrilling shudder of his own. He didn't give her the opportunity to argue further, just sought the same spot again and kissed it far more deliberately, opening his mouth to taste her skin in way that he'd been fantasizing about for far too long. Lucy arched into him with a sigh, her leg pressing provokingly into the space between his own. She was making an impatient whining sound a moment later, capturing his whiskery jaw in her hands and redirecting his mouth up to hers, a frantic petition that he had no objection to fulfilling.

And just as he was dragging her even closer and preparing to snake a hand beneath that stolen t-shirt of his that she'd donned, the buzz of his cellphone broke through their blissful reverie.

They were jumping. Panama City, 1907.

Wyatt had disconnected the call with a frustrated groan, not bothering to relay the message from Agent Christopher when he knew Lucy had been close enough to hear the whole conversation.

"She wants to interfere with construction of the canal? Well at least there won't be any blizzards this time," she muttered with a frown. "Can't be worse than Oregon, right?"

Famous last words.

Panama had been about the same temperature as Satan's butthole, and if Wyatt hadn't sweated out his entire body weight more than a few times over while deployed in the Middle East, he probably would have decided to curl up and die within the first two hours of landing in the infernal humidity that pressed upon them in 1907. As it stood, his main objective for the day was to keep Lucy and Rufus alive for long enough to figure out why Emma had drawn them out to the actual pit of hell.

When they'd returned to 2017 more than fifteen hours later, Agent Christopher had barely taken one look at them before ordering the whole team to the infirmary for a series of tests and examinations. Wyatt had tried to shrug it off, but quickly stifled his argument once the extent of the risks that were working against them - including yellow fever, malaria, dehydration, and heat exhaustion - had been outlined in vivid detail by both Denise and Lucy.

As he was finally driving Lucy home another two hours later, it was clear that if the threat of heat exhaustion hadn't gotten to her, just plain old normal exhaustion was certainly taking its toll. She'd fought to keep her eyes open for the first few minutes, but it was a losing battle. Her chin dipped toward her chest as her body slumped forward against the restraint of the seat belt.

"Lucy," he'd spoken softly at the nearest stop sign, tapping his fingers against her leg with a blend of mirth and concern. She squinted at him blearily as he gestured toward the other side of her seat. "Just put your seat back, okay? Before your head puts a hole in my dashboard."

There was a mumbling answer, something about staying awake for his sake, but she didn't fight him when he simply reached across her to crank the lever and recline the seat himself.

So for the second time in as many nights, he'd scooped an unconscious Lucy out of his truck and carried her inside, taking care this time to remove her less-than-comfortable jeans before tucking her in at his side. She turned into his arms right as he settled back against the mattress, cuddling up against his chest with a cozy, sleep-laden sigh.

Even so, Wyatt laid awake for the better part of an hour.

He was pissed about Emma's unrivaled upper hand, infuriated over the seemingly indiscernible purpose behind most her jumps. And when he thought about Emma and her elusive pattern through history, he was then forced to stew over the question of how she'd flipped sides so abruptly, because it still didn't add up in his mind. How could she go from helping Flynn in his quest to eradicate Rittenhouse, only to steal the Mothership less than a day after his arrest, acting on behalf of the same creepy pricks she'd just been working to defeat? And from there, of course, Wyatt was grinding his teeth over the situation with Lucy's mom. She'd somehow managed to slip away at just the right moment and hadn't done anything to raise a single flag in Homeland's search for her, lurking somewhere out there as an elusive piece of the puzzle that hadn't been seen since the day she'd dropped the Rittenhouse bomb on her daughter.

Wyatt tightened his arms around Lucy as she slept, praying for another night to pass without a trace of those horrific nightmares, many of which revolved around her mother's betrayal. He would do anything to eliminate them, to put an end to the heart-rendering tears that followed without fail and the spells of silence that would often consume her for a full day after the worst of those damn dreams.

She burrowed impossibly closer in her sleep, causing her shirt to ride up higher from where Wyatt's hand was resting at her waist. His palm slipped against the smoothness of her exposed back, effectively breaking him out of the thundercloud of his dreary thoughts. If nothing else, at least this had happened. At least Lucy was here - in his life, in his bedroom, in his arms.

And if there was a higher power out there who cared for him at all, maybe everything else could settle down for just long enough to give them the morning off tomorrow. It was unlikely that Emma would be in any hurry to jump again so soon after such a miserable day of running around in the oppressive heat of Panama City and its surrounding wetlands. And if she wasn't a factor, then there wasn't much else that could get in the way of his plan to spend a few lazy hours alone with Lucy, right?

Or so he had thought.

"No, not happening, Lucy," he grunted up at her as she started to make the bed with him still in it.

"We agreed to go, Wyatt. We can't be rude."

"I did not agree to anything. You - " he shook a finger at her, pouting like a toddler and not feeling even the slightest bit ashamed of it, " - with your lousy weakness for rum and your weird obsession with Yelp reviews - you are the one who agreed to this when Rufus wouldn't let up on it. I do not brunch. That is not a thing I do."

"It's basically just breakfast served after ten," she said with a laugh. "You have no case against brunch."

"No, it's fancy and pretentious. And there's drinking, right? So next thing I know you'll be five mojitos in and begging to play more video games with Rufus instead of coming back here with me."

She was still smiling as she took his hand in both of hers and tried to haul him out of bed. "It won't be fancy and I'll go easy on the alcohol. You have my word."

Thankfully, gravity and body mass were both on his side. Wyatt tugged playfully, upending her with a corrupt grin. She crashed into him and ended up sprawled across the comforter, trying - and failing - to looked annoyed at his childish antics.

"C'mon, Lucy..." his fingers traced across her hand and up her arm as he twisted to pin her to the mattress. "Let's stay in. They'll get over it."

"You're saying that as if you don't like hanging out with Rufus and Jiya," she said in a huff.

"No, I'm saying it like I'd just prefer to spend the morning without them. There's a difference."

She made a move to roll away, but he didn't release her, his grip cinching down around her wrist before he lifted her arm into the air and inspected it with narrowed eyes.

"What are you doing?" Lucy murmured suspiciously.

"Trying to figure out how your hand stays attached to the rest of your arm."

She scoffed and made another unsuccessful attempt at escape. "It's called a wrist, Wyatt."

He rotated her arm between his hands, shaking his head doubtfully. "I don't think this qualifies as a wrist. It's tiny...look, it disappears when you turn it sideways."

Lucy flopped backwards, finally abandoning the fight for her freedom as she scowled at him. "Don't make fun of my scrawny giraffe limbs."

"Your...scrawny giraffe limbs?" he asked with an arched eyebrow. "Is that a direct quote from something? Because - "

"Yes," she cut him off icily, "from my mother, actually. I hit a ridiculous growth spurt the summer after sixth grade, and thus the term was born. She was always trying to convince me that she said it with nothing but affection."

Wyatt frowned, then used said wrist to propel her body back into his. "Wonderful. Another reason to despise Carol Preston."

Lucy was mid-eye roll when he bent lower to kiss her forehead, then her lips.

"You're beautiful, Lucy," he murmured against her, "anyone with eyes can see that. And trust me, when I think about your limbs - which happens far more often than I should admit - the words 'scrawny' and 'giraffe' are not what comes to mind."

A slow grin worked its way across her face. "No?"

"Uh uh...not even close."

He'd kissed her then, fused his mouth to hers with enough impassioned longing to leave no room to doubt what sort of thoughts were running through his head - as well as his body - when she was involved. Lucy pulled back with a doe-eyed fogginess clouding her features, releasing a shaky exhale as she spoke. "You can't kiss me like that or we'll never make it to the restaurant in time."

"You promise?" Wyatt asked with a smirk.

She shoved her palm against his chest, her eyes flashing in warning. "The longer you fight me on this, the longer it takes for me to get ready, which means we will be late to meet them and then I'll insist on staying out even later to make up for our tardiness. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am," he answered with a mock solute, knowing when he'd been beat, all the while hating himself for being such a pushover. Lightning might be capable of striking twice, but what the hell is a guy supposed to do when the intended targets of said lightning can't seem to catch a break?

So here he is, wearing the stiff button-up that Lucy had chosen from his closet, sitting in a dining room that's too stuffy and cramped, flipping through a menu that's lackluster at best. At worst, it's downright terrifying.

"Breakfast sushi? Are they serious?"

Jiya is barely stifling a giggle, Rufus is peering at him sympathetically from above his menu, and Lucy is glaring as she hisses her reply. "Keep your voice down, will you?"

Obviously he didn't want to go out in the first place, but now he's genuinely pissed because she totally lied to him about brunch. This place is definitely fancy.

"I don't know what the hell half of this is," he claims in a tone that is only half a notch quieter than before. "Kale Frittata? Avocado & Burrata Toast...honestly, burrata? They made that up. And oh look, Quinoa Crusted Ahi Tuna. My favorite," he finishes in a completely deadpanned voice.

He swears that Lucy's nostrils are flaring with aggravation as she turns to him. "Hilarious, Wyatt. Go back to the first page, okay? There were more ordinary choices at the beginning."

"Oh right...the ordinary stuff. Like I'm going to order one bowl of granola for almost nine dollars. Do you know how much granola you can get at a grocery store for nine dollars?"

"Oh my god, I didn't know someone invited my father to come along today," Jiya says with a chuckle, careful to avoid Wyatt's eyes after making that remark.

"Well in that case, your father sounds like a very reasonable man," he answers with a shrug. "Can't say the same for mine."

That raises Lucy's antennae for reasons that Wyatt instantly understands. He's rarely spoken about his father in front of any of them, but she's at least heard what a first-rate bastard the guy is, and that's more than he'll reveal to most people. He's not at all surprised to feel her curious gaze on him after he's mentioned him out of the blue like that. In fact, he'd sort of astonished himself with that left field comment.

It's Rufus, however, who chimes in a second later, and his response robs the wind right out of Wyatt's lungs. "Yeah, sorry about that, dude. I thought you were gonna chuck your phone straight into a wall when you were dealing with him the other day. Sounded awful."

Lucy glances uncertainly from Wyatt to Rufus and back again, an injured look coming into her eyes. "You...you talked to your dad recently? In front of Rufus?"

The question she hasn't verbalized is clearer than crystal - why does he know about this and I don't?

All three of them are staring at him now, and Rufus belatedly tries to fix things, but Wyatt can barely concentrate on his explanation.

"Uh, not exactly...I came back for my jacket, accidentally left it in the locker room, you know. And I - I just happened to overhear you on the phone. I thought you saw me, but uh..." he scratches the back of his head, floundering at the awkward silence that's fallen over their table, "...maybe not?"

"No," Wyatt replies gruffly. "Didn't see you."

Their waiter appears then, and damn it if he still has no freaking clue what he's supposed to order. He muddles his way through it without much fanfare, choosing to go with an overpriced granola bowl, because at least he's heard of all the ingredients that are listed underneath that heading. And then he adds on a side of applewood smoked bacon - since just plain bacon would never be good enough in a place like this - because he can't imagine how one bowl of granola could possibly be enough to fill him.

Although he's admittedly far less hungry now that he knows Rufus had caught part of that nauseating conversation with his dad the other day.

"So, um..." Jiya sputters for a safe topic once the waiter is gone again, but with Rufus looking painfully contrite, Lucy frowning down at her place setting, and Wyatt being about two seconds from complete shutdown mode, there's no one there to help her in finding the proverbial olive branch out of this situation. "It's great to finally go out with you guys and not have to pretend that it isn't a double date, right?"

Wyatt makes a protesting noise in his throat. "And I thought karaoke night sounded bad..."

No one laughs. No one really reacts at all.

"Look man, I'm sorry," Rufus says hastily, "I should have kept my mouth shut. I didn't know that - "

"It's okay, Rufus."

He fidgets nervously with the cloth napkin before leaning forward to try again. "No, I - "

Wyatt shakes his head with a halfhearted smile. "Really. It's okay. I'd rather just drop it, alright?"

Rufus nods slowly, then sits back and wraps an arm around Jiya. "Well I for one am thrilled to see the look on your face when you discover what a real granola bowl looks like, Wyatt. I think this is gonna rock your world."

"You'll be a brunch convert before you know it," Jiya agrees with a grin.

"You're both insane," Wyatt says lightly, but he can't help but notice that Lucy isn't joining in the banter, and that sets him on edge even as he pretends to willingly go along with the conversation. "Don't even get me started on the fact that you were able to order something as absurd as Salmon Benny Bombs with a straight face."

"Hey, I'm secure enough in my masculinity to say Salmon Benny Bombs as much as I want to. I'll even take a picture of it and post it on Instagram just to prove how cool I really am."

Wyatt makes a show of wincing disdainfully at Rufus' statement as his hand settles on Lucy's knee and gives it a squeeze from beneath the table. "Every time I think this friendship is going to work, you just have to go and say something like that."

He feels Lucy gradually relaxing beside him as his thumb sweeps back and forth over the soft skin of her leg. She's wearing a simple striped sundress, her hair falling loosely in natural waves around her shoulders, and even if this isn't the best start to a real first date for them, he wants her to know that he's still happy to have her next to him.

But apparently he's been studying her appreciatively from the corner of his eye for long enough to garner the notice of their companions, because before he knows it, Jiya is making some terrible squealing racket about how cute they are together and how long she's wanted them to just give up the charade already.

"Oh you have no idea," Rufus squawks back at her like she's speaking out of turn. "You think it's bad at Mason or when they're hanging out with us? You should see them in the past. It's all - Wyatt, be careful! Lucy, look out! - every twenty seconds. Just picture the entire last hour of Titanic when Jack and Rose are running around the ship yelling each other's names like crazy people and then you'll understand my misery."

Jiya nearly snorts out a mouthful of her mimosa, causing Rufus to continue his monologue with renewed zeal.

Wyatt leans closer to Lucy with both eyebrows raised. "Are we letting him get away with this?"

"Hell no," she responds with a small smile, "but I am starting to reevaluate how much I scream your name on an average jump."

"Do I get a say in the matter? Because I'm definitely pro-screaming if it's gonna save my life from a flying tomahawk or something."

Lucy is on the brink of replying, but Jiya slams her glass down to the table and gapes at them. "Excuse me, did I just hear the term 'pro-screaming' from that side of the table?"

It takes Wyatt half a second to comprehend the suggestive tone that she's using, and Rufus nudges her shoulder with a groan, his other hand waving around in the air as if to clear away her question. "Don't mind her. Jiya watches too much HBO. Practically raised herself on Sex in the City. She can't help herself."

He seems to sense that he's already given her the opportunity to say something equally obscene, because he claps his hand over her mouth with wide-eyed panic as soon as he's finished speaking. "No. No more, Jiya. You'll scare them off."

Wyatt glances at Lucy, but her head is bent low to examine the variety of sugar packets in front of her with marked diligence and he can tell that she's not budging until the awkwardness of the moment has passed.

Rufus steers the conversation to safer waters, asking Wyatt if he's seen the trailer for the latest Marvel flick, and then their food arrives shortly thereafter, triggering a new wave of good-natured teasing over the gigantic portion of Wyatt's granola bowl in comparison to the fussy little dollops of food that decorate Rufus' plate. Jiya steals one of the strange little egg bombs from Rufus without a word, then quickly slices through half of her lemon poppy seed pancake and deposits it on his plate.

"Want syrup with that?" she asks while reaching over to snag another bite of his food, then she passes the syrup to him even though he hasn't answered her. Rufus takes it, pours a generous amount over his half of the pancake, and proceeds to pour some over hers too before putting the bottle down again.

Wyatt watches in wonder, waiting for one of them to disapprove of something that their partner just did, but it's like a finely honed routine for them. He'd never been like that with Jess, but then again, they had pretty similar tastes and often ordered the same things when they went out.

He casts his gaze at Lucy and her plate, but there's nothing there that he can even think about touching. She's cutting demurely into some type of egg dish, probably a frittata if he remembers correctly, and he thinks his stomach might actually be lurching at the smell of whatever is inside of that thing. There's no chance of splitting their meals and swapping bites. He's adamantly sticking to his 'ordinary' food even if it lands him in the doghouse later.

She feels his sidelong look and peers up at him with a wary glance, so he just shrugs it off and focuses on eating while nodding along vacantly to the story that Rufus is currently telling.

By the time the plates are cleared and the bill has been settled, Wyatt can't shake the forlorn feeling that this has been some type of unspoken disaster. He'd tried to tell her that this was a bad idea, and he almost reminds her of that fact on the too-quiet ride home but can't bring himself to speak it aloud. Even if going out for brunch wasn't high on his list of fun ways to kill a free Sunday, he realizes that he hates the thought of disappointing her even more than he hates pretentiously priced breakfast foods. This was the kind of thing she'd probably enjoyed far more often in her pre-time travel life and he's presumably flunked his first test as Lucy Preston's new boyfriend.

He decides to make amends before they've even made it inside again, catching her elbow as she rounds the front of the vehicle and meeting her eyes with his most apologetic look. "Hey, I'm sorry if I -"

"No," she says with a minuscule shake of her head, "you don't need to do that."

"But, Lucy -"

"Let's just go in, okay?"

He follows her lead with a bewildered frown, letting go of her arm and walking a half-step behind her until they're through his front door. "Are you sure that - "

Lucy turns abruptly, wraps her arms around his neck, and lifts herself up on her toes to kiss him resolutely. To say that she's caught him off guard is a massive understatement, but his body reacts on nothing more than instinct. His mouth opens to hers and his hands envelope her waist. She doesn't go far when she ends the kiss, just hugs him closer and rests her head into his shoulder.

"I'm the one who's sorry, Wyatt. I knew something had to be off for you to drink like that the other night, but I had no idea..."

He fights to keep himself still, not wanting to allow even the most microscopic tremor to pass through him as he's forced to acknowledge this topic yet again. "It's not a big deal. Just needed to get it out of my system. All better now."

She keeps her cheek pressed to his chest with a hand brushing up and down his back. "You could have told me, you know. Might have helped you get over the hump without the hangover."

"I know," he says quietly, surprising himself with how much he means that, "I just figured you have enough parental drama on your plate without adding mine to the mix."

Lucy pulls back to look at him with more sincerity welling in her dark eyes than he's ever seen in anyone. "I don't want to be shielded from what's going on with you. I can handle it."

"It's not that I think you can't handle it..."

"But that I just shouldn't have to?" she asks with a meaningful tilt of her head.

He nods grudgingly, already anticipating the backlash of that admission.

"Did you ever think that maybe it wouldn't be so bad to be reminded that I'm not the only one with a few skeletons rattling around in the family closet? Or that it could be beneficial to focus on someone else's problems for once? You're not my therapist, Wyatt. This relationship is supposed to go both ways."

He steps closer to fill the small gap that she's created between them, nuzzling his head against hers and willing the rush of anxiousness in his veins to subside. "I haven't had to do this for a while, Lucy. That's not an excuse, I just...I was never good at sharing stuff about my family to begin with, and now I've spent a lot of time not talking about any of it, because...because without Jess, I didn't have to. I'll try to do better."

She sinks into him with a soft sigh. "Thank you."

Wyatt drops a kiss against her temple, breathing in deeply before continuing. "He didn't call for anything in particular. He's just the type of asshole who pops up for no reason at all, other than to remind me of how much he despises me, of course. Don't know how he got this new number, but I made sure he won't get through a second time."

Lucy squeezes her arms around his middle with a pressure so compelling that it might just be crushing his internal organs. "He must be the biggest asshole in the whole world to not realize how great you are...it's his loss, Wyatt."

He's incapable of making any coherent reply. She's apparently knocked his voice box right out of him, and it's not because of her strangling hold around his torso.

"For the record, I'm also sorry about brunch. You were right. We should have taken a rain check on that."

It requires some effort on his part, but Wyatt eventually manages to pry her arms off of him to see her more clearly. "Really? I was right? Can I get that in writing?"

"Don't be a jerk," she says with a burgeoning grin. "You're supposed to accept my apology more gracefully than that."

"Right, of course...so which part exactly was I right about?"

Lucy shoves him away, chuckling involuntarily as she tracks her way though the apartment. "I'm not feeding your massive ego. Figure it out for yourself."

He catches up to her in a second, looping his arms around her from behind, completely unable to suppress a laugh of his own as she squirms in response. "I'd rather figure it out with you, though."

He kisses her neck until she's melting into him, then drags her through the open doorway into his bedroom with his lips still attached to her skin.

"Which part should we complain about first," he asks as he topples across the bed with her, "the weird food or the weird company?"

She smiles up at him before shaking her head and biting her lip. "I don't know, but weird is definitely the keyword in that equation. Why was that so hard? It's not hard when we hang out here alone...and we've done stuff as a group before and it never felt like that, right?"

Wyatt nods, lowering his mouth to hers for a slow kiss. "I blame the Salmon Benny Bombs. And Jiya. I blame her too. She was watching us like we were two fish on display in an aquarium."

"She's just excited for us," Lucy murmurs, pulling his head back down for a kiss that lasts even longer than its predecessor. "Maybe you're not supposed to go on double dates before you go on single dates."

"Is that your less than subtle way of asking me out, ma'am?" he asks with a heady smirk.

"Yes," she answers without hesitation as she rolls onto her side, "but I have two conditions."

He plays with the edge of her dress, inching it ever so slightly higher up her leg. "Alright, let's hear 'em."

"One, you have to promise not to turn your nose up at the food I order when we go out."

"I did not turn my - "

"You did," she interrupts with an imposing look, "I know what I saw. Just because Rufus shares with Jiya doesn't mean you're supposed to follow suit. I'll eat what I like and you are free to do the same. Fair enough?"

He snickers at the businesslike tone, but shrugs his agreement. "Okay, and the second condition?"

"I need you to fix whatever the hell is going on with the kitchen sink before we're going anywhere."

"What?" he sputters indignantly. "The sink is fine."

"No, it clogs all the time and makes a strange noise after I'm done rinsing dishes. That's not fine, Wyatt."

"Let me recap here, just so I know we're on the same page." His fingers move more decisively over her leg, skimming the back of her thigh as he prods her closer. "I'm not allowed to take you out on our first real normal date until I unclog a sink...?"

She scoots nearer just as he'd hoped she would, nodding with an eager smile that lights him up all over.

"And who says romance is dead?" he snarks back with a grin that betrays his real feelings.

Lucy's face reflects great concentration as her hands go to work on the task of unbuttoning his shirt. "The way I see it, we've done almost everything else backwards at this point, so why stop now? I moved in with you before we started dating. We went on a double date before we ever had the chance to go out alone. I think it makes perfect sense that we go against tradition again. Just buy me some Drano for our first date instead of flowers and we're set."

"Very practical," he says with a kiss to her forehead. "I'll accept your conditions, but only if I get to add in one of my own."

"Yes?" she asks while idly guiding the shirt off of his shoulders.

"We throw one more tradition out the window and I get lucky before the date."

Lucy sends him a sassy smirk of her own before leaving an inviting kiss on his bare shoulder. "I find those terms to be rather agreeable."

This weekend is turning out to be far less simple than the one he'd imagined, but as Wyatt has the immense pleasure of flinging Lucy's sundress across the room a few moments later, he decides that simple is overrated.