AN: Pretty sure I screwed up the chapters there when I originally posted this - fixed now (but, considering that I deal with numbers for a living, you'd think I'd know the difference between a 9 and a 6).


Winnie kind of thinks maybe he'll step forward and kiss her or something but Spike's suddenly all, 'it's been brought to my attention' and she's torn between bursting into slightly-hysterical laughter and just shaking so hard she falls right out of her boots and like, her hair is still wet. It's all she can do to keep her mouth closed and not say anything humiliating that will come back to haunt her later.

So she smiles tremulously up at him, tells him she'll see him at work and then turns and starts walking back home, wants to let out a whoop but like also, she knows him and she can feel his eyes on her and she doesn't want to do anything foolish like wipe out on the sidewalk.

He catches up to her before the end of the block, this smile on his face, walks beside her with his hands in his pockets more than half way there, neither one of them saying anything (all that comfortable silence, relief and hope too, maybe) and then he reaches down and grasps her fingers in his. She stares straight ahead, grinning in the darkness, thinks she probably looks deranged. Doesn't really care. It's not exactly a five minute walk back to her apartment but also, she doesn't want to ruin it with fluorescent lights or other people so she doesn't even slow down at the streetcar stops. He glances at her every time they pass one and it's just – it's not a bad look that he gives her, is all.

Spike stops walking abruptly a block from her place, jerks her back just a little, their fingers still intertwined.

"What are you-"

He takes a step forward, right into her space, cups her face in his hands and kisses her. Winnie freezes right before she kisses him back, like she hadn't actually thought she'd ever get to, and then melts right into him, fingers reaching up to grasp his forearms, hopes he can taste all these complicated things she feels for him on her tongue. He's a little more aggressive than she thought he might be (not that she like, thought about how he kisses, just you know, maybe a little) but in a nice way, a good way, like he wants all of her.

Also, it's possibly the best kiss she's ever had, his hands warm and nearly-familiar on her skin, lips making her feel things she's not ready to face right in the pit of her stomach, tongue sliding against hers in a way that feels like they should really consider bottling it as the answer to the world's problems. He rests his forehead against hers, smiles against her mouth.

She thinks she should say something, like how if she'd known he'd kiss her like that, her rule would have fallen by the wayside even sooner, how she had never realized that a kiss could make you feel invincible instead of trapped, how she's wanted him pressed right up against her for longer than she's been willing to admit, how they're currently standing in the middle of a deserted road and no one's ever kissed her in the street like she was just too important, never so desperately, like he might never get the chance to do it again.

She doesn't end up saying anything at all because Spike presses a kiss to the inside of her wrist and she honest to god almost swoons. It's a stupid word her mom used to use and Winnie's never known what in the hell it even means but-

He laces their fingers together, gives her this grin that's half-hidden in shadow and they start walking again. She wonders if it would be completely inappropriate to invite him upstairs, ask him to kiss her like that some more and regretfully realizes that they haven't gone out yet, it's after midnight and that there's really only one way to take an invitation like that. Then she starts thinking about the only way to take an invitation like that and has to look away, cheeks flushed (and like, okay, it has been a long time and an even longer time than that since she's really liked someone and she might be a hundred years late to the party but she does. She really just likes him).

"Thursday?"

It takes her a second to figure out what he's talking about, his voice hoarse and deeper than she's ever heard it. She thinks about that crap Dahlia always says about pretending like you're busy and making a guy wait and acting cool and then resolutely ignores every single rule she's ever heard. "Thursday as in two days from now?"

He shrugs, tries to hide a smile. "I need a little notice."

She clears her throat. "8:30?"

"8?" Gives her that cheeky grin like he's been putting water balloons in Sam's vest before a training exercise.

She tries to hide her own grin and fails completely. "8."

"I'll pick you up."

She starts saying that she's the one who asked him and should really be the one to do all the heavy lifting and then starts laughing when he just claps one hand dramatically over her mouth.

"I asked you first."

He kisses her lazily, brushes his nose against hers and she's practically shuddering before he takes the keys out of her hand to unlock the door for her, holds it open. He leans down and kisses her again as he hands her keys back and she's actually surprised when she doesn't just drop them right on the ground. He smiles at her and she knows she should turn and go upstairs but she leans up to kiss him one more time, one of his hands at the back of her head, the other still holding the door, completely ignoring the three people who have to walk around them even as Winnie snickers childishly into his mouth and does her best not to ask him to come upstairs with her.

She lies flat on her back on top of the covers of her bed, thinks that it feels like she's finally wrapped a band-aid around a paper cut and also like she's so tired but could get up and run a marathon.

Also, she can't remember the last time she laid here, felt so still, like she could finally breathe, like she could laugh and cry in the same second. She wants to shake the Winnie from so many weeks ago, the one who turned him down across a desk for a stupid rule that doesn't even make sense when she looks at him. Thinks about the time she wasted and then thinks about skating and rides home and him and it doesn't seem quite so wasted anymore.

She thinks about that smile, the way he looked at her right before he kissed her standing in the street, like he was happy.

That's what she thinks about as she slips into sleep, that she wants to be up to the job of making someone else smile.


She's early the next morning, is leaning on the desk chatting with Jen when she feels someone's eyes on her back.

She glances behind her, catches Spike staring at her ass before he pulls his eyes back up to hers.

"Officer Scarlatti," she greets him, grinning. Clearly, putting on these jeans had been a wise decision. And also, it does really ridiculous things to her insides that he's looking.

"Hey Winnie," he says, returning her grin with one of his own.

They're both just standing there looking at each other when Jen clears her throat, looks like she's trying not to smile. "Morning Spike."

"Morning Jen."

Jen is hiding her mouth with the back of her hand, trying to finish up her shift and clear up the desk at the same time.

Winnie flashes her a smile, glances at Spike who's still standing there looking at her. Her stomach flips and she has to clear her throat (it's just – it's not a wholly unpleasant feeling, is all). "I should change."

He catches up to her right outside the locker room, reaches out and stops her, fingers barely grazing her waist. "Hey."

"Hey."

They spend a solid minute just grinning at each other stupidly.

He lets out a breathe of air. "I uh. Really want to kiss you right now. But that's. Probably not a good idea."

She giggles, takes a step back. "Probably not."

"Kind of sucks."

"Maybe you can give me a ride home later," she suggests, biting down on her tongue to stop herself from grinning like an idiot.

He raises his eyebrows at her, this look like she's surprised him or something. "Maybe I can."

She leans closer. "If it makes a difference, I kind of want you to kiss me now too." She raises her eyebrow in challenge, backs into the locker room door and grins at him before it swings closed.

He does give her a ride home. They spend an hour making out in the car.

They only stop when Winnie's phone rings, Dahlia on the other line telling her that something came up and she has to change their clubbing plans (which – okay, Winnie's the slightest bit relieved, like who clubs on a Wednesday night, and also, glad because she'd totally forgotten all about it the second Spike leaned over with a smile on his face) and they'll talk tomorrow or something and she's barely hung up when Spike kisses her again. She drops her phone between the seat and the centre console, lets him reach across and touch her, her fingers suddenly nerveless. Kisses him back. Actually, Winnie thinks she could spend all night out here, just kissing him, having his fingers graze her neck and jaw.

She's a little surprised by how this feels new and not-new at the same time, how easy it suddenly is not having to tell herself that she is in no way affected by the way he smells, clean and fresh and like masculine, she doesn't even know.

It's just – potentially, she wouldn't complain if she was just allowed to do this forever.

When she finally gets inside, she falls onto her bed and just lies there, no concept of time, grins when she reads his text telling her to sleep well and marvels at how excitingeverything suddenly seems.

It's possible that Winnie wakes up the next morning nervous. To the point where she spills her coffee all over the floor and has to spend the first ten minutes she's awake cleaning it up.

She just keeps thinking about kissing him in her driveway, about how what she really wanted to do was like climb into his lap or something, drag him upstairs and feel his weight against her, how he smiled at her and she just thought, 'I always want him to look like that', like she is just suddenly so invested in his happiness and it's just a little bit terrifying, standing at the edge of this cliff.

She's standing up behind the desk when he comes in (and she's not proud of it but she totally drops the pen she's holding, has to fumble around for it, nearly knocks her coffee mug and a stack of binders right over and she's just not usually so clumsy).

He gives her that smile, the one that is apparently making her breath catch now. "Morning."

She swallows, tries to bite her lip against smiling so hard and then just gives up. "Good morning."

"Hoping we get out on time tonight?" He's teasing, all gentle with her.

She raises her eyebrows at him. "Definitely hoping."

He ducks his head, still smiling and okay, possibly, she is going to throw herself across the desk and maul him, is all she's saying. "Me too." They just stand there smiling at each other. It's just – the expression on his face is-Winnie just doesn't know when she started being okay with seeing it directed at her, is all. "8 still good?"

She inhales a little. "Yeah. 8's still good."

He gives her this look, like maybe he was expecting her to have changed her mind or something, grins suddenly. "Okay. Well. I should…" Makes this motion towards the locker room.

She nods at him, thinks that there is no way she's changing her mind, not now and even though it's been five minutes, it's looking like not ever. "Yeah. You should."

"Okay."

"Okay."

He doesn't move, is still smiling at her and she suddenly gets the urge to giggle, look away, play with her hair which – she resolutely doesn't do any of those things, she is not that girl and she's not in high school, he is not the captain of the hockey team for Christ's sake.

"Spike, will you be joining us today?" Boss is grinning too and Winnie is pretty sure she blushes like a teenager when he looks at her. Wonders if he sees everything written all over her face in plain English.

"See you later," Spike says, eyes flicking to her mouth.

Winnie watches him go and then sinks into her chair, smiles at Boss who gives her this grin back that makes her think that he's like as excited as she is about tonight. Which – so silly, she needs to get a grip, the world is not revolving around her and dinner. With Spike.

Her shift finishes before his and for once, she doesn't hang around (it's entirely likely that she used to drag out her shifts simply so she could talk to him but if anyone ever asks she will deny the shit out of it), wants to shower and like find something to wear that isn't too short, too tight or too low (like, she wants to look, you know, good, not like she's trying to get into his pants. Which, okay, she is but she doesn't need to put it out there for the whole world to know).

She's got Dahlia on speaker, rifling through her clothes as she fills her best friend in on the past forty-eight hours.

"What do you mean?"

Winnie rolls her eyes. "What part did you miss?"

"How about the whole thing?" Dahlia sounds like she's speaking with her jaw hanging open. "What the-I thought you said-"

"Yes well," Winnie says hastily. "Everyone makes mistakes."

"Everyone makes…" Dahlia trails off and then lets out a loud squeal. "What in the hell convinced you? Oh my god, it's about fucking time."

Winnie makes a face, flicks through the hangers in her closet. "It's going to sound really stupid."

"I don't care. You've spent the last god knows how many weeks telling me that you don't look at this guy like that and you don't date cops and all of this crap and now you're telling me that you asked him out and you made out in his car in your driveway until someone honked at you to move?"

"Okay, okay. I'm an idiot. I don't know. He's just…always there."

Dahlia snorts. "Really? That's what did you in?"

"I don't know. Maybe." It's not like she hasn't tried to figure it out, can't seem to find anything concrete, only that she finally put all her thoughts about him together, combined them all, saw that everything she wanted outweighed everything else and there was no other choice for her.

"So he's always there, he's hilarious apparently, he does just sickeningly cute things like take you skating and let you cry on him and? What in the fuck, Win, I've been saying all of this for weeks and weeks and you just kept telling me that it was never going to happen. 'Oh Dahl, he doesn't like me like that, he only asked me out once!' and 'Pshaw, please, I don't date cops', Winnie Camden, you are so full of shit!" Dahlia sounds gleeful.

"I know, I know. What do you want me to say? It just…I don't know."

"Okay okay, let's back it up. Seriously, I talked to you like two days ago and you told me this ridiculous story about the two of your flirting all over the SRU front desk over some note from his mom and literally today, you're telling me that you've been having secret make out sessions and you're going out tonight? What the!"

"I-we weren't flirting-"

"Oh please. That's all the two of you do! Nothing like reveling in your own singleness by watching your best friend and the guy she insists she doesn't want to date flirting it up right in front of you."

Winnie laughs. "It's really stupid. "

"Oh Jesus. What? Just tell me."

"I just…I looked at him and that was it. He was laughing."

"He was laughing," Dahlia repeats, somehow manages to make it sound even stupider out loud than it did in Winnie's head.

She sighs. "I told you it was stupid. I don't even…I don't know!" She pulls on black underwear and a black bra, knows that she is not putting out on a first date (she thinks, at least, anyway, more than likely) and that he won't end up seeing it but it makes her feel a little more confident, a little less like a kid with a crush.

"And what? The stars aligned? World shifted? Life was never the same again?"

Winnie doesn't say anything, feels like that's uncomfortably close to the truth.

"So. Perfect guy?"

"Oh shut up. I'm regretting ever telling you that part."

Dahlia lets out a delighted laugh. "So? You're telling me, in less than an hour, you're going on another one of your weird non-dates where you both do date-like things and hang out in a date-like manner with both of you wanting to date the other person. Except this time it's an actual date."

"I hate you. And yeah. I mean – that's the plan."

"Nervous?"

"I don't know." Yes. Yes, she's nervous. Not exactly about going out with him though, weirdly enough.

"You shouldn't be," Dahlia says decisively, like now that she's said it, Winnie will have no choice but to do what she says. "It's not really anything new."

Winnie sighs. "I don't know. I don't know! What the fuck am I doing?" she moans.

"Stop that. It'll be great." She pauses. "Plus, apparently making out is a thing you guys do now so just think, that's probably how your night will end. Stay away from the onions."

Her jaw drops, not a thing she had even considered and yes, now she is nervous about going out with him. "You are the actual fucking worst."

Dahlia ignores her. "Seriously though. It'll be fine. It's just the two of you doing what you've already been doing. There's no difference."

She rubs at her forehead. "Feels different."

"That's a good thing."

Winnie swallows hard.

"Win?"

"Yeah?"

"This isn't like last time. I like this guy."

"You've met him twice."

"What's your point? I'm a great judge of character. I hated that idiot Rob from the moment I met him."

She didn't actually, only starting hating him a year in when he got trashed and screamed at Winnie in front of too many people (which – still something she cringes about).

"Seriously. He's your perfect guy, what in the hell is the issue here?"

All the ways I could fuck it up is what Winnie thinks, doesn't say.

"Stop it. Stop thinking. He's hung around all this time, honestly, I really think he's never leaving. Unless that freaks you out more. In which case, nevermind. Ugh. This is probably going to end up being one of those awesome first dates, right on par with all those urban myths. You know, guy with the hook at the car and all of that."

Winnie stopped trying to follow Dahlia's logic around the time they both turned eleven so she just says, "Sure, guy with the hook."

"Are you going to call me right after? You have to call me right after. Plus, if he suddenly gets a personality transplant and sucks, I can think up ways to ruin his life."

"Oh okay, scary."

"That's not something I don't already know. But thanks."

"Dahl-"

"It'll be fine. I promise. It'll be better than fine."

Winnie finds herself smiling at that. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Call me when you get home."

She hangs up the phone, spends an inordinate amount of time running her fingers through her hair. She knows she needs to put her makeup on, that 8 o'clock is creeping up way too quickly but also, she needs to open a window and take a few hundred deep breaths first.

It's just – there's suddenly this worry that it's going to be wrong between them, everything feeling not like it's supposed to feel, not like it's been feeling. Like maybe, everything that's come before right now has been a weird kind of fluke or a dream or something. Like maybe, they'll go out and he'll realize that she's all messed up in relationships or something. Not that they're in a relationship, like it is one dinner.

One. Dinner.