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I decided to tone down chapter four so the story can remain at a T rating. Because they're cute. And I like cute. So this entire story will have happy, mushy, lovely snuggling but NO smut.

Word Count: 787
POV: Adam Ross
Pairing: Danny Messer/Adam Ross (dAmn)

First 'Date'

I see him standing in the rain outside his apartment, soaking wet, and I see him drop his keys.

I hurry up the stairs to the door, and bend down to pick up the keys. He greets me, and I unlock the door, and he goes inside. I follow him, and once we're in his apartment, he sets the bag he was carrying down, and goes to his bedroom.

He's telling me that the night's pretty much ruined, all the things that he'd gotten to cook with are sopping wet and we can order in, if that's all right with me. I go to find him, and he's standing in front of the dresser, peeling his soaked clothes off.

I hesitate in the doorway. I know that he's got all the same body parts I do, but I'm nervous. I tell him the night's not completely ruined, and he turns to look at me. He looks somewhat akin to a drowned cat, the way his hair's sticking up in various places. I smile, and he returns it. I lose my inhibitions somewhere between the door and him, and I don't care that he's still wearing his soaked jeans and the beater that was under his shirt.

We kiss, and things suddenly take a turn. His tongue runs across my bottom lip, and I open my mouth a little. I feel his tongue slip into my mouth, glide across my tongue, and he brushes his knuckles against my jaw.

I pull back, because I know we should be taking things slow. I tell him that he should probably get into some dry clothes, and he nods. I want to stay and watch him undress, but I know that if I don't leave the bedroom now, I might not leave it for hours on end.

I walk out into the kitchenette, but really, it's leaning more towards a full kitchen, and get the bag of groceries, trying to see if there's anything I can salvage from the waterlogged products. A bottle of red wine is pretty much the only thing I pull from the bag that's not completely soaked. I remember that one time, I told him that I didn't drink white wine, only red.

I can hear him quietly walking up behind me, and when he leans over my shoulder, he whispers to me that he remembered that I don't drink white wine. I feel his fingers on my hips, and I wonder what's going through his head.

You see, I've been hurt a lot in the past, and not just by my dad. I have trust issues, especially when it comes to people I've been in relationships with. See, about a year ago, I was in a relationship, and I got hurt pretty badly. I'd trusted the guy too much, and he turned around and hurt me. No one, except for Mac, knew about it, but he knew because I ended up in the hospital after my 'lover's' idea of fun.

I know it seems foolish, but I don't feel like I deserve to be in another relationship.

He's saying my name, pulling me out of my reverie. Only then do I realize I'm shaking a little. The memories from that one relationship make me so scared at times. I feel like I can't trust even myself at times with other people. I know that with him, I'm safe, but I'm so scared. He's asking me what's wrong now, and I know he's concerned.

So I tell him. I tell him everything. He stands there, taking my words in, and then he turns me around so that I'm facing him. He tells me that I'm perfect the way I am, and that he wouldn't have me any other way. It's a little cliché, but it stops my shaking. He reaches over to the counter for the cordless phone, and asks me if I want to order in.

When he's done, he links the fingers of his right hand with my left hand fingers and he leads me into the living room. He sits down on the floor, his back up against the couch, and I sit down between his legs, leaning back into his chest. We sit like this for a while, and I'm content to have his fingers lace with mine across my stomach.

When dinner's finally finished, he asks me to stay. Neither of us have to work tomorrow. He says that we don't have to have sex; that he's not in this relationship solely to use me for sex.

I fall asleep next to him in bed, and when I wake, he's tracing random patterns on my back.

I could get used to this.

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