Trixie looked between the two outfits on her bed and frowned. One was simple yet elegant; a creamy white laced skirt ending just above the knee with a silver-grey close-fitting sweater and grey flats.

The other was a dress that ended just above the knee as well. It was dark blue and long-sleeved, and was made of a thin sweater material that showed off all of her curves; and in certain lights it shimmered. It was elegant and yet… sexy. She'd worn it once to an event in Sleepyside that she, Honey and Di had been invited to after they solved a case a few months ago. The boys hadn't been home then, and so Jim hadn't seen her in it. When her mom saw her wearing it, she hid a smile, and Di's jaw almost dropped. Apparently, according to Honey, Di and Miss Trask, she looked drop-dead gorgeous, and she hadn't worn it since. But now… It took a split second decision, but finally she made up her mind. She knew which one she would wear.

Trixie didn't believe in putting on make-up, partly because she didn't have the time. But, if Honey or Di were to apply it, she'd let them, even if she'd never found the skill to do it herself. Her hand always shook when she tried applying eye-liner, and her fine blonde lashes didn't take well to mascara. However, lip-gloss was never out of the question, even if the powder stuff was.

Just as she slipped her shoes on, there was a knock on her door. She gave herself a once-over in the mirror, and then, satisfied, opened the door. Her heart fluttered when she laid eyes on him, as it always did. He was neat and handsome as always- impeccably dressed yet not overdone, his thick red hair was brushed to perfection, and she just wanted to run her hands through it like she'd done so many times before.

She may or may not have noticed, but upon the sight of her, his eyes shone, and his face lit up like it does only when you see your most beloved. The sight of her in that dress drove his mind into a fuzzy, dreamy state, and yet he was hyperaware at the same time. He saw the way it clung to her curves, showing off the figure he thought was absolutely perfect- not too tall but not too short- just perfect enough that she fit comfortably against his chest as if she was meant just for him. She was delicate yet strong— just like her personality. And she was his. It made his heart race.

Once they were done with the shy, admiring looks that had never seized since their first date, he cleared his throat, giving her one of his lopsided grins. "Hey, Shamus," he said quietly.

She had to stop herself from grinning also. "Hey, Jim." She flipped the lights of the room off, shutting the door and gratefully taking his hand as they walked towards the elevator, smiling as he planted a solid kiss on her cheek.

She didn't even need to ask where they were going when they got into his car. Whenever they were in New York, they always went out together to the same place. Donatello's was one of New York City's hidden gems. It was a small, well-decorated place that had seen visits some of the world's top diplomats and celebrities. Owned by an Italian family, few people knew about the fabulous restaurant that boasted the best eggplant parmesan in all of North America. Donatello's was always Jim and Trixie's place. The owner, Niccolo Donatello, knew them by name, and being the stubborn Italian man he was, always added a five dollar discount despite Jim's protests.

When they entered the dimly lit, cozy restaurant, the waitress led them to their seats with the customary warm politeness that everyone expected when they entered Donatello's. When the menu was handed out, they didn't need to look at it, but they did anyway.

Once they'd decided and placed their orders, which they didn't even need to think twice about, Jim's hands reached across the table and took Trixie's. She smiled at him, rubbing small circles at the back of his rough, well-worked hands, which contrasted remarkably with her pale, dainty ones that didn't look like they'd been in the situations they'd had.

Jim was about to open his mouth when Trixie's expression changed and he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Oh, hi, Jimmy," a high voice chirped, and he turned around to see a familiar brunette behind him.

He looked awkwardly between the girl and Trixie, who, thankfully, didn't look too taken aback. "Um, Trixie this is—"

"Valerie," the pretty girl supplied, extending a perfect pink-nailed hand in Trixie's direction. The blonde took it, her face so polite and gracious that Jim was almost speechless. "I'm Jimmy's lab partner."

Trixie smiled at the tall science major, quickly noticing her perfect hair and low cut blouse.

Jim spoke. "Er, this is Trixie, my girlfriend."

Valerie laughed, her white teeth shining, the sound tinkling and pleasant. "Oh, the one from home? Jimmy's told me so much about you. It's great to finally meet you."

Trixie smiled back. "You too."

"Well, it was nice meeting you. I'll see you in class next week, Jimmy." She flashed him a brilliant smile, taking her slender fingers off Jim's shoulder with a final tap.

When she was gone, Jim met Trixie's face sheepishly, expecting to receive a pissed-off girlfriend. Instead, Trixie's face shone with mirth, her eyes dancing with laughter.

Jim exhaled in relief, taking her hand across the table. "God that was terrifying. Sorry, Shamus."

Trixie raised a thin eyebrow. "The one from home?" She shook her head, hiding her smile. "She said it like you have one everywhere."

Jim blushed to the roots of his hair. "I have the same one everywhere." He gave her a small, shy smile. "You're not mad, are you?"

Trixie smiled at the concerned red head. "For her having those manicured fingernails all over you?"

"I'm surprised you didn't rip my head off. Or hers."

Trixie frowned at him. "I'll have you know, James Frayne, that I can be very good at holding my temper. I'm not fourteen anymore."

His brain, which wasn't always honorable when it came to a certain Ms. Belden, made a short list of the ways that Trixie had changed since she was fourteen. Even though one could say that she changed mostly mentally and emotionally, his nineteen year old mind came up with numerous physical characteristics.

Trixie hid a smile of feminine satisfaction. She knew that look. It was the same look she'd received on many occasions when his mind wasn't in a respectable state.

"Well, you have nothing to worry about," Jim said, squeezing her hand. "I kind of have a thing for curly blondes."

Trixie blushed, her heart racing.

"Especially the kind that always manages to get into trouble." Jim smiled mischievously.

Trixie raised an eyebrow, talking quietly so only he could hear. "You mean like the kind of trouble we were getting into this afternoon?"

She received a lopsided grin. She couldn't help thinking about how much she wanted to kiss him when their appetizers were served.

Trixie laughed as Jim swung her around, the sky a blanket of stars and the New York air crisp and cool.

People watched as they walked past the couple along the pavement, small smiles on their faces as the handsome redhead gathered the pretty blonde in his arms. Young love, a woman thought with a sigh, her arms full of shopping bags as she clicked open her car.

Jim pressed his nose against Trixie's, grinning at her. "Wanna go back to the apartment?" he whispered, his breath tickling her skin.

Trixie turned her face as he leaned in, his kiss sliding to the side under her ear. "Yeah," she said, hiding her smile as she felt his disappointed sigh. "We should watch a movie."

Jim raised an eyebrow, drawing her in closer with the arms around her waist. "A movie?"

"Mhm," she mumbled against his cheek. "What else would we do?"

Jim gave her a grudging smile. He loved it when she played coy, but like any male, it drove him crazy. "A movie it is, then." He tried again for a kiss, but Trixie expertly manoeuvered herself from his grasp before he could plant it. "Hey," Jim protested as she walked away to the passenger's side of the car. She shot him a mischievous grin before ducking into the black vehicle.

Jim shook his head, smiling to himself as he got into the car. He put the keys in, but didn't start the engine. "Trix," he said gravely, "we have a problem.

She tried to keep her expression somber. "What is it, Jim?"

He heaved a heavy sigh, shaking his head with regret. "If you don't kiss me right now, I won't be able to stop myself from inadvertently driving as fast as I can until we reach the apartment, which will be hazardous. "

Trixie smiled to herself, always speechless when it came to the amount of control she had over him. "That must be some movie you're looking forward to watching," she said, and when she looked at him, he didn't answer. All he did was give her one of his signature lopsided grins, the grin that melted down to her toes. She leaned in, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pressing her lips firmly to his.

And needless to say, they didn't reach the apartment for a while.

Matthew Wheeler looked at his wife skeptically. "Did she really say that?"

Madeleine nodded. "Helen said that she and Marjorie had a long conversation about it and found that it was something that needed to happen."

"But honey, don't you think that that's a bit unreasonable? Our kids are all perfectly responsible enough to make the right decisions. I'm sure that—"

"Matthew," Madeleine appealed, "They're teenagers. Do remember how old we were?"

Matthew shrugged, thinking back to when he and his wife were sixteen and eighteen. "But we weren't as well-supported and self-motivated as these kids are, Maddie. You've seen the things they've been through. You don't think that they'll be able to sort out their emotions at least long enough for them to get married?"

Madeleine gave her husband a look of feminine wonder. How men could be so stupid she'd never know. "Honey, how old is Mart?"

He rolled his eyes. "Seventeen."

"And Jim?"

"Nineteen."

"Brian?"

"Twenty. So what?"

Madeleine gave an exasperated sigh. "So they're at the age where things happen, Matthew! How many twenty year old men out there are still virgins, do you think?"

Matthew's face turned red, his redheaded temper flaring. "Okay, but how many twenty year old men are dating seventeen year olds?"

His wife sighed, realizing that her husband didn't take well to being aggressive. "Sweetie, what's the harm in talking to them about it? If they're as responsible as you think than it will just be a refresher. But I think that it will let them know where we stand on this whole topic."

Matthew rolled his eyes. "And where do we stand on this topic?"

So that's what it is, Madeleine thought, realizing what the problem was. Her husband just didn't want to face it. He had no idea what he thought about the whole issue, even though his wife already knew his opinion for him. "Honey, what do you think about Jim and Trixie's relationship?"

"Well," Matthew said slowly, "I think that they are well-suited for each other and obviously care about each other very much. And I think that whatever lines they are allowed to cross have to be discussed by Helen and Peter."

Madeleine smiled, realizing she had already won the argument. "So then you believe that it is up to us where Honey's relationship goes and the Lynches can decide about Diana?"

Matthew nodded. That's the way it made sense.

"So…" Madeleine said, popping open a cold bottle of Perrier and handing it to her husband, who was sitting on the sofa. "What lines do you think Honey and Brian should be allowed to cross?"

Mathew eyed his wife suspiciously. "I know where you're going with this, Madeleine, and I'm telling you now that I'm not buying it."

Madeleine sat down on the couch beside her husband, grabbing his large hand. "Honey, I'm just trying to find what's right for our kids." She spoke earnestly. "And the Beldens, Dan and Diana are as much are children as Honey and Jim. I want the best for all of them."

Matthew sighed, brushing his wife's straight brown hair behind her ear. "I don't know, Maddie. Whenever I think of Jim I remember what I felt when I was that age. But when I think of Honey, I also think of Brian, and then…"

His wife smiled knowingly. Matthew and Peter were the same when it came to their daughters. But then again, weren't all fathers? She placed a comforting hand on her husband's thigh. "What do you think you would do if it were Peter and Helen in New York with Brian and Honey?"

Matt's face turned red just thinking about it. "If that boy lays a hand on my daughter, then—" He was interrupted by his wife's laughter.

"Oh, Matthew, you are too much." She shook her head, her eyes glittering with amusement. "I don't mean to upset you, dear, but I'm sure that they've all laid more than a hand on each other. And it's not just Honey and Brian you have to think about." She smiled ruefully at her husband. "I think you know what goes behind closed doors, Matthew. You just need to face that our little girl is growing up."

Matthew Wheeler sighed heavily. "But I don't want to face it, Mads. I just want to remember the times when they were all young and Honey was happy and—"

"Honey is happy, remember?" She patted his leg sympathetically. "It's you who's not happy."

"Yes, but what if she isn't? What if she doesn't want to get that far in her relationship, and Brian is just—"

"Dear?" She squeezed his shoulder. "I thought you said they were all responsible and able to make their own decisions."

Her husband leaned his head back against the sofa. Neither of them spoke for a while, both thinking of their children and how much they were all growing up.

Finally, Matthew spoke. "How come you're the one who's making all the sense? Why are you so calm about all this?"

Madeleine's mouth tilted up, her thin eyebrows lifting. "I'm a woman, hon. I'm better at picturing the situation from all sides."

She received a tired smile. "Oh yeah?"

Madeleine nodded.

"So what are our children thinking?" He looked at her so sincerely that she couldn't help but answer honestly.

"They're trying to make the right choice that they think will make us happy and be better for their futures. Even if that means trying their hardest to fight their growing desires."

"Growing desires, eh?" Matthew scratched his head, trying hard to imagine his daughter and her boyfriend in that position. Sadly, or maybe not so sadly, his paternal mind couldn't conjure such thoughts about his innocent daughter. His son, though, well… that was another matter. He could see what his wife was saying, to some degree at least.

After a long thought and a large sigh, he asked, "So when does she say this meeting is going to take place?"

He received a satisfied smile. I win, Madeleine thought. She looked slyly towards her husband, her hand travelling up his thigh.

And, well… I think that's where all usefulness in this conversation seizes, and so we'll just wait until next time to see how our friends fare with their emotions. (Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler are evidently a lost cause that requires no more observation.)