Can I request Gale and Madge as opposing lawyers with lots of sexual tension and maybe a first date at the end?

There came a certain point in Madge Undersee's life when she finally admitted that she would never be rid of Gale Hawthorne. They competed for everything, no big shocker, whether it was undergrad studies in Law, Society, and Justice, or law school, who would be editor of the Law Review, which was more respectable, a defense or prosecuting lawyer, which way was best to handle a case, everything. They finally split ways after law school, going to different firms, but somehow, over the years, they kept running into each other again and again. Gale could have sworn the behemoth of a city he had entered as a freshman undergrad had shrunken down to a pond. By then, Madge was simply resigned to the fact that he was in her life, wedged into a corner and wouldn't budge.

They weren't friends, to be sure; there were no happy hours after a long day; no phone calls late at night after researching all day; no days holed up in one another's apartments watching movies on Saturday's. But they had some tacit understanding and respect, somehow, a kinship built by years of fierce competition. They always seemed to know, through mutual friends or otherwise, what the other was up to. If he saw her in a bar he would look out for her (without her knowing, or so he thought) and she always inspected the girls he would go out with (and raise an eyebrow at him with an expression to convey her judgement). It was an interesting thing, to seek and accept the other's approval but outwardly deny it.

Both, then, were unsurprised when their small, respective firms merged and the two were, once again, together.

It was the first case they had been assigned to work on together, and, coincidentally, both of their first times, leading a case. Usually a more seasoned lawyer was paired with a rookie for a bit, but the firm was unusually busy and both Madge and Gale were acknowledged as two of the most fierce, eloquent, and relentless lawyers in town, if not the youngest.

With great intelligence came great pride. Each approached the case in a slightly different way and were each convinced they were right.

"We need to focus on piecing together an alibi," Gale was arguing to her one morning.

Madge rubbed her temples; she slept terribly the night before. Her neighbors next door were arguing again. She really needed to find a new apartment.

"While I agree that having an alibi would be the best way to ensure our client's innocence," she reasoned, "we've already tried that. Our client is too drunk to remember what happened and the timeline itself is so messed up, we don't even know where he could've gone before he found his girlfriend's body. We need to focus our efforts on creating doubt elsewhere. Focus on the girlfriend and her drug abuse history. See if we can find any former dealer or acquaintance who might've wanted her dead."

"That's not enough," Gale said, a muscle in his neck twitching. They had been going at it for hours and their team of interns, paralegals, and junior lawyers were silent, eyes darting back and forth as though they were at a tennis match, waiting for further instruction.

One of them, a small young woman named Rue, cleared her throat. "Um…. Mr. Hawthorne? Ms. Undersee?"

"What?!" They both snapped, having completely forgotten they had an audience.

"If you don't have any further instructions, can we go research some more?" They had called a meeting to discuss their line of attack… but it quickly spiraled out of control. Three hours ago.

Both quickly looked at each other, then away, suddenly ashamed.

"Of course, Rue," Gale cleared his throat.

"We'll see everyone tomorrow," Madge chimed in.

They watched everyone file out, and then it was just the two of them. The air was still crackling with energy, left over from their long argument, though Madge mused it was always this way between them, arguing or not. There was some sort of excitement, a rush in her blood that got her heart pounding and made her feel alive when he looked at her. Secretly, she enjoyed the rush she got from arguing with him, and it was the only selfish reason she indulged in such immature behavior, no matter how impractical. It was quite annoying, however, considering the fact that he was the only man who ever inspired such feelings within her.

Even when he was being insufferable, Madge couldn't walk away.

"Good going, Undersee," Gale said finally, blowing a steady stream of air out, slowly. "What a waste of time that was."

"It wouldn't have been a waste if you weren't so damn stubborn," Madge snapped suddenly. What was with him lately? He was always competitive, but he had never been so obtuse before. "I'm not saying we give up on your idea completely, just that it's not practical to devote all I our time to!"

"Pot, meet kettle," he growled back, and he said it so seriously that for a moment she just stared at him.

He stared back and then frowned, almost a little confused, as if he was wondering who had said that ridiculous statement.

And then, suddenly, Madge started to laugh. Gale scowled at her for a moment, thinking she was mocking him, but her laugh was an odd mixture of slightly-hysterical, brought on by stress, presumably, and just pure delight, when one laughs simply because something unexpected has happened when one needs it the most. Once Gale, in the span of a moment, realized this, he started to laugh as well.

Many minutes later, the two finally quieted down, peals of laughter turning into chuckles and fading all together. Madge was dabbing her running mascara with a handkerchief and Gale simply used his finger pads, wiping away the moisture on his pants.

"Come on, Hawthorne," Madge said, standing up and straightening her skirt. "Let's go to The Seam," she said, referring to a local, well-known bar in the area. "I think you and I need a drink."

"You buying?" Gale asked, an eyebrow raised, but he grabbed his coat anyway.

Madge smirked at him. "We can negotiate for it."

000

Miraculously, weeks later, they won the trial. Their client was found not guilty, due to good arguments, well-researched reasoning, and a healthy amount of doubt and lack of evidence. Gale and Madge felt like they were on top of the world, and were, for once, glad that they were working together instead of against one another (although the latter was fun). In the end, they compromised: Gale let Madge research other options, but Madge let Gale have not one, but two paralegals on the case researching the client's alibi. It was a mixture of both elements that won the case.

The exhausted assistants in question were headed out for a night of drunken revelry at The Seam, with perhaps some pit stops at local pubs The Hob, Greasy Sae's, and finally, everyone's final spot, Victor's Village (the pub open until 3 AM, the longest out of all of them, where one is considered a Victor if they can make it there after a long night of drinking.) Madge was planning on at least going with them to a couple bars, and was turning to Gale and asking if he was going to the same, when she noticed he was looking at her funny.

It wasn't the first time this had happened. He had been acting peculiar for a while now. Sometimes, the few times they were actually away from the office and trying to lead social lives, he would text her, out of the blue, telling her a joke or sending her a picture of something that reminded him of her. Sometimes, he brought her lotus leaf green tea, a rare type and brand that is her particular favorite, casually saying that he bought her one because he had happened to stop at a store that sold it. Sometimes, she'd catch him looking at her, strangely, as if she were a puzzle he wanted to figure out, or worse, as if he had figured her out and could see every little bit of her.

She was used to Gale Hawthorne getting her hot and bothered (in more ways than one), but she wasn't used to his presence being so unnerving.

"Gale?" She asked him, after they stared at each other far too long to be comfortable. "Were you planning on coming to The Seam tonight?"

Gale shook his head, and wouldn't make eye contact, looking over her right shoulder, at the tip of her ear. "I have a bit of a better idea," he said, drawing in a deep breath and looking into her eyes. "How about you and I grab some dinner instead?"

"Just the two of us?" Madge squeaked, and hating herself for doing so.

Gale doesn't smile. "Yeah," he said, nodding solemnly. "Just the two of us."

"Like a date?" There goes the squeaking again.

Gale shook his head, and Madge tried not to be disappointed. "Not like a date," he said. "As in an actual date."

"Oh," Madge said. There were a million reasons why she should say no, the chief among them being that office relationships were very much looked down upon. And the idea that, if they go down this road and fail, she would lost Gale and he would be out of her life forever—it seemed unbearable. Unfathomable.

But she looked into his eyes. He looked vulnerable—he knew what was at stake, too. And he didn't care. He was willing to risk a lot of things, because that's just who Gale Hawthorne was—big risk could mean a big reward, he always said, and since Madge knew what kind of risk he was taking, it flattered her to know that he saw her as a big reward, should they succeed.

Looking into his eyes, she saw friendship. But most importantly, she saw warmth, laughter, and love. She saw happy hours after a long day; phone calls late at night after researching all day; days holed up in one another's apartments watching movies on Saturday's. She saw it all and she wanted it all, and saw no reason why she couldn't have it—why they couldn't have it.

"Yes," she told him, grinning widely, tucking her elbow in his, "that sounds like the perfect idea, after all."