They walked, hand-in-hand, for nearly an hour, until they happened upon a small diner. Grant had pictured them going somewhere a little more upscale, but when he saw the way Jemma lit up at the sign advertising New York's best burgers, he knew there was only one choice.

"Want to go in?" he asked.

She seemed surprised he noticed her eyeing the diner. "Do… do you want to?" She stammered, a flush coming over her cheeks.

He laughed. God, but she was cute. "Come on. When's the last time you had a burger?"

"It's been ages," she said, leaning on the last word dramatically. "It's so funny," she began, as they walked inside and helped themselves to a seat at a booth with cracked red vinyl seats, "but in France, even though I was surrounded by all of their amazing food and their beautiful culture, sometimes all I wanted was a big, greasy, American cheeseburger."

"Well, your secret's safe with me."

"Good, because Martine might kill me if she ever found out." Jemma said with a laugh.

A waitress soon came to take their orders. Grant ordered a BLT with coleslaw and a soda, and Jemma went all in for the bacon cheeseburger, fries, and a chocolate milkshake.

"You're really going for it, are you?" he teased when the waitress had walked away, their ticket in her hand.

"Well, isn't that the point of tonight? Not holding back? Living it up?" She looked at Grant. "I've waited a year for this burger, Grant. You're not going to ruin this for me, are you?"

"I wouldn't dare."

"Good."

Their meals came out fast - "faster than a Michelin-starred restaurant, I'll give you that" Grant said- and were delicious. Jemma even moaned a little when she bit into hers.

"I don't know if it's because I haven't had one in so long or because it really is the best burger in New York, but this might be the most delicious burger I've ever had." she said around her second mouthful before hurrying onto her third. "Oh, Grant, you're spoiling me."

He had never considered himself classist, but before that night, Grant never would've guessed something as small as a ten-dollar burger could make anyone smile the way she was smiling at him now. She really was making him rethink all kinds of things.

They ate quickly, but lingered at the booth much longer than their meal lasted. He fought the temptation to check his watch frequently and soon found that the urge got easier and easier to ignore as time went on. Grant asked Jemma what remained of his questions about her time in France, and she was only too happy to regale him with yet more tales of her experience in Paris. She spared no detail, even if doing so meant she shared some information that might have caused her embarrassment; more than one story was about some set of one photoshoot or another, and the mishaps that followed due to the language barrier or her ignorance of photography.

Jemma, in reciprocation, asked Grant about what she'd missed during her time away. "Not much," he admitted.

His answer did not satisfy her. "Come on, Grant. Nothing changed?"

"I mean it. The company grew, but the company is always growing. Fitz dated around, but Fitz always dates around. Melinda was stoic, and I worked." He shrugged. "Things have been largely the same in the Ward world since I was twenty years old."

"Nothing happened that was, I don't know… surprising? Or out of the ordinary?"

He thought of one thing. "I think I took a nap in March."

Despite herself, she laughed. "Oh, Grant."

He noticed she was beginning to make a habit of that. Saying his name, leaning on it with her accented voice. This time, in spite of her laughter, there was pity in her voice.

"But listening to you talk," he began, his voice low, "I don't know. Sometimes I wonder -lately, especially- what it would be like to spend time in a place I loved the way you love Paris. Not for a layover, or for a business trip, but for a real break. A real change." He was on a roll now, the words spilling out before he could stop them, "I do what my dad did, he did what his dad did. I sit in an office that's practically a shrine to the man he was, but there's nothing of me there. I've poured my youth and my life and my soul into a company and none of it…" he trailed off and looked up at Jemma. She had her chin in her palm, her fingers curling up to cover her mouth as she watched him intently.

His unfiltered diatribe culminated in him confessing, "I don't know if I am what I am because that's who I'm meant to be, or because it's what the company needed."

Jemma did not appear shocked by him saying so. "You're still young, Grant. There's still time for you to choose to be the man you want to be." Her free hand reached for his, and he let her take it.

Her fingers were warm as they caressed the back of his hand, her skin and her touch soft.

"I'm not a lost cause, then?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I don't believe anyone's a lost cause."

A moment of silence passed between them until suddenly, Jemma perked up. "What time is it?" she asked.

Only when she mentioned it did he at last hazard a glance at his watch, He frowned. "Time really got away from us. It's 7:15. We missed the curtain going up. We could try to make it over there for the second act, if you'd like."

She shook her head and smiled. "That's all right. I'm enjoying myself just as we are."

"Really?"

"Really."

They agreed though that they should free up the table if they were finished, so Grant paid their bill and left the waitress a generous tip.

"Well, since the theater's a bust, where would you like to go?" He asked when they got outside.

She held onto his arm. "I enjoyed walking."

"But we've walked so much already. Surely you're getting bored."

Jemma smiled in such a way her nose wrinkled, and she shook her head. "I'm a cheap date, Grant."

Date. Of course it was a date. Dinner and a play (or the idea of a play). He'd meant her to view it that way, and now that he knew for sure that she had… he didn't know how to feel. Thrilled, a little, at the prospect of a date. He didn't remember the last time he'd been on one of those. And disappointed. Disappointed that Jemma, for all her intelligence, had not yet seen through his ruse.

She misunderstood his silence for discomfort and rushed to amend. "I'm sorry. I guess that was presumptuous to say…"

"Not at all." he corrected. "That's precisely what this is, isn't it?" But he didn't want to spend too long on the subject, so he hurried to move on. "So, Paris." Paris was always a safe subject with her. "You've told me why you love it. What didn't you love?"

"How expensive everything was." she replied without missing a beat.

"Well, I'd have to learn how to say 'I'm just looking'. Or 'This is what I want'." He slowed down, coming to a stop, and turned toward her. "How do you say 'I'm looking at what I want'?"

She flushed, and stammered out, "I don't remember." When he didn't immediately begin walking again, she tugged on his arm. "Come on, we should keep going. The locals will literally kill us if we walk too slow, remember?"

ooooooooooooooooo

Melinda was over. She was over more nights than she wasn't, lately, ever since Grant had begun his questionable courtship of Jemma. Phil was grateful for the distraction her presence provided, never mind that their increased time together had set some of the other household staff gossiping, although nothing could truly take his mind off concerns for his niece.

"I made you some tea," Melinda said as she came from the kitchen bearing a tray with a teacup, some cookies, and a small bouquet of flowers, "and some flowers to brighten up your window."

He looked up from his book. "Been watching 'Remains of the Day' again?"

Melinda knew Phil well enough to know his uncharacteristic surliness was misdirected. "She can handle herself with him, you know. She's not a child."

"I don't trust him, Melinda."

"I know you don't, and I can't say I blame you. But he promised me he would not hurt her. She's not just some girl to him, Phil." Melinda offered what little consolation she could.

"No, it's worse. She's a business transaction."

Her eyes narrowed. "Grant would never hurt her." she repeated, a little forcefully this time.

His answer was measured; diplomatic, even. "I believe he would never mean to hurt her, but you and I both know the path to hell is paved with good intentions, and for all of his business acumen, Grant is ill-prepared to handle her heart.

"It doesn't help that Jemma seems displaced in all this. She doesn't belong above a garage. She doesn't belong in a mansion either."

"Well, most people live in between," Melinda said quietly, then put the tray down on the coffee table. "Have your tea and try to relax." She headed towards the door.

"You're not staying?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I hear the staff chatter just as much as you do, Phil. Between us, and your niece and my sons, perhaps we should limit ourselves to one family scandal at a time."

"It's hardly a scandal," he muttered, but made no move to stop her. He knew Melinda well enough to divine her meaning even when she didn't say much. She was probably right to leave, and when she closed the door, it would likely be the last time she stepped foot into the apartment. Their own strange dance would draw to a close the moment she walked outside. Perhaps that was just as well.

Jemma may have been able to live in between, but Phil knew his place.

ooooooooooooooooo

"I really should get back into the city," Skye said sadly as she looked at her phone and checked the time. It was after nine. She had a meeting early the next morning.

Fitz was a little disappointed, but he understood. She'd already cut her trip earlier that week short, returning home to see him when she should've been relishing in the success of her TED talk. He wouldn't ask her to make more sacrifices now, and certainly not when he was on the mend and had reached a point where he could handle himself. "I'll walk you down."

She snorted. "Like hell you will." But he insisted, hauled himself to his feet, and leaned on his cane for extra support as he walked her down the hall.

"It doesn't hurt so bad now," he said to her as they went. She was mindful to keep the pace slow, lest he hurt himself in his endeavors to be a gentleman. "I'm more stiff than I am in pain."

"And you probably feel better now that I got the doctor to stop giving you those horse tranquilizers."

Fitz grimaced. "Yeah. Not sure why he felt he needed to drug me so heavily. You would've thought I couldn't handle pain the way he was dosing me."

"Right? Nobody would ever think that." Skye exaggerated every other word, her sarcasm evident as she shot him a sidelong glance before laughing.

"This is about the wasp sting again, isn't it?"

"It was a bee."

"It was a wasp, and it hurt like hell." Fitz protested.

Skye retorted with, "It probably hurt the bee worse."

"Wasp, and if you're trying to make me feel sympathetic to the little bugger's plight, you haven't. My lip was swollen for a week."

"I remember." She tried and failed to hide a smirk behind her hand. "It was the closest to being a Jenner you'll ever get."

Her car was in front of the house, parked in the center of the u-shaped driveway, which was a relief to Fitz. For all his show of feeling better, the movement had made his stitches start to itch.

He had just finished seeing her off, watching her car's tail lights fade in the distance, when another car came up the drive.

"Fancy meeting you here," Fitz said after Grant had parked (right where Skye's car had been just minutes before, in fact) as he opened the door for Jemma and offered a hand to help her out. She took his hand, but he noticed she avoided leaning too much (or any, really) of her weight on him.

"You out for a walk?" Grant asked as he rounded the hood of the car and came to stand close to Jemma. Very close, Fitz noticed, to the point that their fingers brushed. He was half-expecting him to put his arm around Jemma, but he didn't.

He refrained from commenting on the closeness (even though he really, really wanted to) and instead only answered Grant's question with, "Just seeing Skye off." Then, looking at Jemma, he asked, "How was the city? Skye mentioned something about seeing 'Hamilton'."

"Well, that was the plan. We didn't quite make it to the theater." Jemma said. Then, realizing how that sounded without context, hurried to add, "We went to dinner and then walked around for a bit. It was very nice."

Grant nodded towards Fitz's cane. "What's the word from the doc?"

"He says I'm healing fast, but I probably can't go traipsing about the city for a bit. You headed back tonight?"

"Nah, it's getting late. Think I'll stay out here."

"Okay."

"Okay."

The brothers then seemed to engage in a wordless battle, staring each other down without either budging from their spot. It didn't seem particularly tense; Fitz was even smiling a little. Still, it became clear after a few awkward moments that it would be up to Jemma to break the silence.

"Okay, then." She leaned on Grant and patted his arm. "Thank you for a lovely night, Grant. Fitz, what say we get you back upstairs and to bed? I'll help you up."

"Thanks, Jemma."

She took him gingerly by his free arm and, with one last look at Grant, led him to the house.

Grant watched them go. Fitz only glanced back once, to shoot him a smug, teasing look, clearly meant to rub Jemma's preference in his face.

It was a rare thing for Grant to feel like a fool, but here he was, standing in the driveway, watching a girl he'd just gone on a date with walk away with his brother. He was reticent to admit how much it stung. Not that he had a right to feel hurt when, at least on his part, this was all meant to be an act.

Oh, damn it. He'd gone so far off piste. Tomorrow, he resolved, he'd finish what he started. He already knew what he'd do, but a little tremor ran through his heart to think about it.

He chalked it up to heartburn and, after giving the pair a minute or two head-start for the sake of their privacy, went inside.

ooooooooooooooooo

"You know," Fitz said as she led him up the staircase, "we never did have that drink."

Oh, God, why would he bring that up now, she wondered to herself. Wasn't she conflicted enough? "No, we didn't," is all she said to him.

"Well," he continued, trying hard to sound game, "I'm sure I could scare up some champagne, and some dixie cups. No glasses. I'm through with glasses."

Despite herself, she laughed, but could not help her sad sigh as she said, "Oh, Fitz. What's going to happen?"

"What do you mean?"

She paused. "What do I mean," she asked aloud of herself. They were still on the steps, but had slowed to a stop in their conversation. "We are friends, aren't we?"

"I'd certainly like to think so."

She didn't even break to marvel at that fact. Hadn't she spent most of her youth thinking him inaccessible, and here he called her his friend as though it were nothing short of natural? "Well, as your friend, let me just tell you that I think drinking champagne, alone, with a woman that is not your fiancee is not the best idea. I'm sure your intentions were pure, but one must live above reproach when one is in so visible a position."

"I don't care what gossip mags have to say."

"No, nor do I. But I've met Skye only today and already, I care what she might think if she saw us in a compromising position. Don't you?" She didn't give him a chance to answer. She didn't need him to. She only kissed him on the cheek and said goodnight.

"You're a good woman, Jemma." Fitz called after her. "If I'd seen it sooner-"

"-Sorry," she interrupted him. She still managed a smile, but it was tight. Forced. "But I really can't entertain the 'ifs', Fitz. It's not fair to me or Skye."

"Or Grant?"

"Yes. Him as well, I suppose."

"You know, it surprised me." He looked down, avoiding her gaze. "I don't think I've ever lost a woman to my brother before."

She hadn't consider herself lost to him before that moment. They'd been spending time together. They'd even been on a date. Sometime during the past few days, her preference had moved from the younger Ward heir to the elder. Every feeling she'd once had for Fitz, she felt now for Grant. Was it just another crush? Did this mean she was fickle?

She didn't know for sure. All she knew, and what she told Fitz, was, "It surprised me, too."

A/N: one chapter closer to the end! I'm trying to update as quickly as I can, as the drama is really picking up! I think there will be two more chapters, and possibly an epilogue. How does that sound to you?