Well, this has been long in coming, and I want to thank everyone for their patience. My job is insanely busy, which makes it harder to find time to write. Anyway, thank you all for your feedback – I hope that you enjoy this part! It's a slight departure from what I've been used to doing in recent memory. – G

Lyrics are to "Fool in the Rain" by Led Zeppelin


Part 8

And the warmth of your smile starts a-burnin
And the thrill of your touch gives me fright
And I'm shaking so much, really yearning
Why don't you show up, make it all right?

Michael shifted uncomfortably as he waited for Max to finish talking with Liz. He wasn't eager to talk to him, but given that he was the resident romantic of the group, there really was no alternative. Max would ask fewer questions than Isabel, and even if he did figure it out, he'd probably be elated. Not that he was going to tell him.

Tess and he hadn't talked about boundaries, hadn't really talked about any sort of rules since that conversation two days ago. In fact they hadn't done a lot of talking – a lot of kissing, yes, but not a lot of talking.

Not that he minded. In fact, he preferred it.

But Tess thought that they should go on a real date. And somehow he had relented, her lips, swollen from their previous kissing, and her disheveled hair had played a role in it.

So had the threat of no more make-out sessions.

Which was why he was here, in the back room of the Crashdown. Max and Liz looked like they were almost done with whatever they were doing now. He tried not to think about it or classify it in any way. In fact – the Max and Liz melodrama was what he was trying to avoid.

Except, he wanted to have some broad accept him. Well, not just any broad, Tess. It was ironic, he wanted to run away from Maria and their… whatever, but he was running to Max for relationship advice.

Proof that he wasn't, as Maria so willingly put it, relationship challenged.

He hated that he did this, dwelled on Maria's criticisms of their relationships, almost as if they foretold failure for him and Tess. Or any relationship, really. But when it came to his actions, he often acted first, then thought about the results later – suffering in silence. Isabel had told him once that he was too hard on himself, and while he might agree, he couldn't help it – too many years of verbal abuse and a genetic predisposition toward military strategy had shaped this part of him.

He really doubted it would change. At least Tess wasn't still berating him for his lack of flowery language, or that she had to ask him out. Soft teasing, yes, but she wasn't being a harpy about it.

Clawing at his eyebrow his scowl grew deeper, he watched as Parker molded herself into Max. Turning away, he folded his arms across his chest as his annoyance grew. They certainly weren't wasting any time; in fact, it looked like that stupid Gomez concert had worked to Evans' advantage.

Of course, Evans getting some meant that he wasn't going to get his for a little while longer. Or, even worse, he'd have to hear about all the details. Why was he even doing this? He wasn't Max, he didn't use flowery language, didn't believe in soulmates, hell he didn't even like PDA. Anything that Max would tell him probably wouldn't be of any use.

He shifted his body, turning to leave, only to catch a better glimpse of Liz Parker. Her shirt was off and Max's hands were buried under the waistband of her jeans, holding her firmly against him as they continued to make out. Groaning, he noticed the sly half smile and the knowing look in her eye as she expertly lifted his shirt off of his body.

Max Evans certainly wasn't a virgin anymore. And this was his cue to leave. Great, another few hours wasted.

But, as he made his way out of the restaurant, what he realized was, more than anything else, what he noticed about the two of them was how they just worked. He wanted that, and he wanted it with Tess.

Yeah, he wasn't about flowers and chocolates, but neither was she. Sure she had a slight need for fantasy, probably because of all the fairytale bullshit Nasedo fed her, but so what. She got him, and he'd make sure that he'd do right by her – even if it meant dates, real dates, in public.

With renewed determination, he started his motorcycle, gripping the handles as he raced down the open road to Valenti's house. He hoped she didn't mind the bike, her car was still in the shop, another reminder of what had happened to her on Isabel's birthday.

He reached the doorway and waved a hand over the lock, not really wanting to deal with Kyle or the Sheriff giving him a hard time, and entered. Plus, what good were powers if you didn't use them, once in a while?

"Tess?" Michael called out in a greeting. His whole plan rested on one thing – that she was home, and if she wasn't, well, then, he didn't exactly have a plan B.

He smirked as she stepped out from the bathroom, her hair tied up loosely in a haphazard bun. There was a toothbrush in her left hand, and a suspicious look in her eye. If it was anyone else, he would feel uncomfortable and awkward, but with her, he just felt nervous.

"Michael? What are you doing?" Tess questioned, her right arm finding her hip as she stared at him expectantly.

God she was so hot when she was undone. He sighed, scratching his eyebrow as he continued to stare at her. She was starting to get pissed – he knew that shift well, from his dealings with Maria and Isabel. He had to say something.

"We're going out." Michael declared, his pronouncement hanging in the air for a moment as he stared at the slightly wrinkled pink t-shirt that hung loosely off of her small frame and her tight jeans. Why was he acting like this? He was Michael Guerin, he didn't get hung up on some girl. This was Maxwell's department.

"I know, we had this conversation, remember? Screaming, crying, kissing – it was only two days ago."

She was mocking him. He'd agreed to this date shit and she was mocking him. And with that incredibly sexy half smile of hers. Cursing he mused that between the bed hair, wrinkled clothes and the smirk, she certainly was getting a rise out of him.

"Funny."

Finally, that damn smirk was gone. But now she just looked confused, he could deal with that, as long as little Michael wasn't on the ready. He was sure that Tess didn't want to see ole one-eye. He already sucked at romance, he didn't need any additional help from his errant hormones.

"Thanks, I think. So, what's up?"

"We're going out." Michael reiterated, watching as Tess nodded awkwardly in agreement. She wasn't getting it. Great, he had to say the d-word. "You know, on a date."

"Oh? Oh." Tess answered, the shock in her voice was sincere, but she wasn't annoyed at his flubbed delivery. If it were Maria, he was sure that he'd be bracing for a long diatribe on woman's lib. And while he knew that Tess was a fan of Betty Freidan, at least she wasn't going to lecture him on the finer points of the feminine mystique.

Thank god.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I mean, when do you want to go?" She was smiling at him now, her hand had slipped from her hip into the back pocket of her jeans and she was leaning into him. God – if she only knew how much her genuine innocence was making him hot.

"Now would be nice."

"You're kidding, right?"

Why was she looking at him like he was an idiot? This was what she had wanted, a date, and he was doing it, without much protest. It was mostly because he wanted to go back to making out with her, but also because he did genuinely like being around her.

"No."

She was frowning, trying to stifle an awkward laugh from escaping from her mouth. She thought he was an idiot – great.

"Michael, I mean, this is sweet, but. I mean, I don't have a ton of experience here, but you know, there usually is like, planning. And fretting over what to wear, and like, makeup."

She looked fine. Natural, happy. He liked that her hair was loose and not in the tight curls she usually wore, it made her seem less afraid, less uptight. She didn't need that garbage. If he were a different guy, he'd be able to find the words to tell her just how beautiful she looked.

But instead he found himself tongue-tied for a moment before finally blurting out his reply. "I thought you were the one who wanted to go out on a real date."

"I do! But, I'm not dressed." She stressed the last word, waving her hands over her clothes for emphasis. He forced down the urge to roll his eyes at her – this was dumb. She wanted a date, he wanted to make out with her, and a goes before b.

"Uh, Harding, hate to break it to you, but you're certainly not naked."

Tess rolled her eyes at his reply. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Yes. The single word answer bounced around his head as he smirked at her. Tess' blue eyes met his in a pointed look before softening to a grin.

"Don't answer that."

He opened his mouth to reply, only to see her grip her hair as she began to shift her weight from one side to the other.

"I just mean, I'm not dressed for a date."

He bit back the laugh that threatened to bubble up within him at her indignation. Hadn't she got it by now that he really didn't care what she wore? Instead he drew her close to him and noticed as the air shifted between them.

Lowering his head, his lips grazed hers and he smirked as her eyes opened once more, this time much more self-assured than she had been before. "You look fine."

He watched as she lifted an eyebrow in a challenge and pursed her lips. He was certain that she was thinking, trying to dig up a sarcastic rejoinder to his moment of levity.

"You look good, Tess. Can we go?"

"Ok."

Her lack of protest made him stop for a moment, only for his dark eyes to meet her light ones. There was no doubt lurking behind her gaze, only excitement, and he couldn't help but give her a half smile in reply.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. We're taking your motorcycle, right?"

"Your car is still in the shop." His response was a bit rushed, hoping that she wasn't going to back out now. They hadn't ridden the motorcycle since her accident and he hoped that wouldn't be a deterrent.

"I wasn't arguing, I was just asking." Tess asserted as he fished his pockets for the keys.

"Sorry, it's just…you know." He drawled, trying to find something that didn't make a reference to either Maria or his accident. He was defensive because Maria would have fought him on this, and because Tess had only been attacked a few weeks ago.

"I know, and I think it's sweet, but I'm fine, really." Tess answered before he said anything else. Her shy smile pricked at the corners of her mouth as she slid her small fingers into his, dragging him outside, into the warm autumn night.

His breath caught in his throat as the full moon glistened in the background, light found her blonde locks and produced an almost ethereal glow. How could she ever say that she wasn't dressed or prepared for some date? She was stunning and her hand fit perfectly in his.

He wasn't one for those kinds of romantic thoughts, but it was hard to ignore when she was touching him.

With a wink and a nod, Michael handed her the extra helmet before mounting the bike. Tess followed suit, her small body molding into his back as her hands circled his waist. He loved this, the feel of her body rubbing against him as he raced down the open road.

Unfortunately, the moment was short-lived. He pulled off of the road and into the parking lot of the only Italian place in town. La Stella di Terra was more upscale than Señor Chow's, the Crash or Cheese Encounters and it was definitely more appropriate for a date.

Not to mention that he knew Tess was a fan of Italian food.

"You coming?" He asked, as Tess stood rooted in place, obviously hesitant about something.

"Uh, yeah." Tess mumbled, standing immobile as her eyes watched the well-dressed patrons mill in and out. She wanted to say something, but was unsure. He hated this false shyness.

"What?" He sighed, idly scratching his eyebrow.

"Michael, I think we're a little under dressed."

Tess was twirling a strand of her golden hair between her fingers now, her other hand awkwardly resting on the hem of her shirt. She was definitely being ridiculous. So she wasn't in a dress? This wasn't some fucking ball, this was just dinner, and he was getting hungry.

"Women."

He began walking toward the restaurant, hoping that she would follow his lead. As far as he was concerned, the worst that would happen would be a withering look, and if they did that, then, no tip. Problem solved.

"Machismo gets you nowhere."

Tess huffed, catching up to him. Her hair haphazardly framing her face, thanks to the wind. He only wondered what she'd say if she noticed that – she normally wasn't like this, and hoped that this wouldn't be something that she picked up as a habit.

"Good thing I'm not Mexican."

"You know we're supposed to be a superior species, right?" She replied, her eyes dancing mischievously as she stared up at him.

"It's the human side that's ruined me." Michael shot back before adding, "Now if you're not going to go to dinner with me, you can get back to the kitchen and bake me a pie."

"Oh, that's sweet. We're at the baked goods stage? Must have missed the memo."

"I like apple pie best." Michael stated as he wrapped an arm protectively around her, his palm resting openly against her waist as he guided her toward the entrance.

"I'm happy for you, really," she deadpanned, feigning annoyance.

Michael frowned, noticing the sign on the door. This was fantastic. Fan-fucking-tastic. His plan was screwed up once more, this time thanks to some overpaid country club members.

"Shit."

"What?"

"Restaurant closed due to private function. Fuck!" Michael exclaimed, wrenching his hand from her body. He couldn't believe it. Another failure by Michael Guerin.

"It's okay."

Michael didn't even hear her over the maelstrom of self-inflicted insults that were whirling around in his head. This was the one thing that he had wanted to do right – and he'd fucked that up. First, he had insisted that they go just like they were dressed, much to Tess' chagrin, then when they got here, the restaurant was fucking closed to anyone without a big wallet.

"Damn it, this is the one nice restaurant in Roswell."

He felt her hand on his shoulder and he stilled as he met her gaze. She wasn't pissed at him; in fact, she looked determined, and a little touched at his indignation. He never would understand women.

"So? We can still have fun."

He wondered if she was just trying to be nice, to fake like she wasn't pissed. It was highly likely, she wasn't as outward with her disaproval as Maria or Isabel, but there was something else she was trying to say. Not to mention that there really wasn't much else going on. It was Roswell and it was already 7:45.

"Uh, doing what Tess? It's Roswell."

"We could go bowling."

What the fuck? Had he just entered the twilight zone? He'd dragged her out for dinner at a nice restaurant. He had waited around in the Crash for no reason except to try to get relationship advice from Max. He had witnessed Liz Parker and her lace bra, which, by itself wasn't bad, but he'd also seen Max in the heat of the moment! All to go fucking bowling.

Not that bowling was that bad. He could help her with her throw, his hands all over her body, helping to guide her swing – this had definite possibilities. But, seriously? Bowling?

"Bowling? What happened to wanting a real date?"

"Yes bowling!" Tess exclaimed, her excitement building at the prospect. "What I meant by having a real date was like, doing something with you that didn't involve your couch. You don't need to blow thirty bucks on some dinner for me."

Michael paused, trying to come up with a response to that. He wasn't about to bare his heart to her or tell her that it was humbling to know that she really just wanted time with him. Instead, he focused on the second half of her reply.

"I thought you were a feminist."

"So?"

"Who said I was paying."

He caught her pointed glare and her annoyed posture. But instead of apologizing, Michael started to laugh. And she joined him, their voices joining together in boisterous fits of laughter as he held her close.

Waiting to catch his breath, he felt Tess collapse against him, her blonde hair splaying across his chest. His arms encircled her waist as he stared down at her. The more he thought about the feel of her in his arms, the more this bowling thing sounded like a great plan.

"So, where's the bowling alley?"

She shifted against him, but didn't untangle herself from his grasp. Raising a well-manicured finger Tess pointed at something behind her. He turned his head to follow her movement, noticing the garish pins glowing in the moonlight. Why hadn't he noticed it before?

"Right across the street. C'mon." Tess answered, slipping her hand in his and leading him toward the building. This dating thing wasn't so bad after all.