A/N

This is the second piece in the series "Next Time, In My Room." The first piece is Only With The Girls I Like. It relatively chronological and in canon. I wanted to explore how these two might have started something in S4 especially if they'd given themselves permission to establish privacy and boundaries. We haven't quite made it to Angela's room (yet) — there is a ton of fodder in early S4 to explore and I'm enjoying teasing out some conversations and boldness between the two of them in a way that feels authentic to them and also reminiscent of how two people are at the very beginning of a sexual relationship. Keeping it a T rating for now.

Perspectives as a title came to me from this quote in Two on a Billboard (credit to writers):
"All the city lights. It's funny, when you're down there in the middle of it all, you never notice how beautiful it is."

"Yeah, I guess to really see it, you have to be above it."

Morning after Tony & Angela slept on the billboard

"Are you feeling a little better this morning," he asked? He is spooning me, our legs entwined, still in his sleeping bag.

"Mmmm, yes. Although I'll feel much better once I'm on solid ground."

I turn to gaze at him, the morning sun reflecting off his brown hair. "Are we...OK?" I'm a little nervous after a deeper and more exploratory conversation we had later into the evening about jobs and roles and well, us.

A wrinkle appears in his forehead. "Of course we're ok." He senses my nerves and kisses the top of my head and continues with a gentle confidence. "It's like I said. If we're serious about starting something, me and you, that means talking honestly things, especially my job. And I think we had a good - and needed -conversation and I have some things to consider."

The Night Before

He'd pried more out of me that night, about the job. "So what if I turned it down because of the family - and you? Angela, that's a good reason to me."

I'd been caught off guard to hear him admit that. "You've told me before...you don't want to be a housekeeper forever and I get that. I just don't want you miss out on something, something that could be great, for you and your future. I just thought...maybe you'd think about it longer."

It got heated. "You don't think about these things, you feel them. Remember that?"

Of course I did. I bristled. He didn't have to bring Geoffrey back into the conversation.

"Angela, I know you mean well, and I do love how excited you get about my work and future, but that's just it. I think sometimes you want me to think like you, to be like you. I love seeing how you make your way in the world. But my way is different. When you get how you get, it unnerves me. I feel like that's your expectation of me and it's more than high. It's unattainable because it's not who I am. Can you understand that?"

I nodded. I hadn't really considered how my excitement came across and how it might make him feel less than. "I'm sorry."

"Look, that job was super. Maybe. Who knows, right? If it had been here or even NYC, close to you and the family, I would have considered it. Those are my must-haves. But it's not and it wasn't going to be, and there was no sense putting a ton of energy into exploring it just to be tortured. No sense crying over something lost that wasn't even mine to begin with."

We laid in silence for a bit. Finally I said, "I think I understand. And I promise to be better about not imposing my way onto you."

I kissed him softly. I want so much for him and yet, I'm in love with the Brooklyn Italian, the one who is not like me. I'm reconciling my own love and desires for him against his needs to stay true to himself, and trying to get comfortable with this notion that he's choosing me and our family over himself. Michael certainly wasn't like that and it left me always feeling defensive and unsupported in my career. How would this all look with Tony?

"Can I make one suggestion? Then I swear I'll shut up."

He rolls his eyes and grumbles. "Fine."

"Mr. Whitlow?"

"Yeah?"

"He's probably well networked." He raises an eyebrow, not fully grasping where I'm going with this. "He saw a lot in you, enough to offer you something on the spot. He was disappointed to not get you on staff, yet you handled it with grace. I bet if you called him and reiterated that while this wasn't the right fit, you really appreciated his offer and enthusiasm and would be open to connecting with other folks in the region."

He gave me a look.

"I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, This isn't how we do it in Brooklyn." I say it in my horrible and fake accent and he shakes his head. "And I respect that. And I also know you're capable of leaning into uncomfortable and different situations to create a better life for yourself." I got him there.

"Your Brooklyn accent is terrible."

"Stop it. That's not the point and you know it. Think about it. That's all I'm saying."

"Alright, alright. I'll...think about it. Now, will ya stop yammering?" He pulled me in closer and a low sexy voice continued, "And let me hold you and feel you and enjoy you next to me in my sleeping bag?" And even though we were on this scary billboard and neither of us was about to get too bold up there, he still kissed my neck and leisurely stroked my quads and thighs, then my torso, and laid his one hand to rest on my breast, giving it gentle caresses until the pure bliss of it all lulled me to sleep.

Late the next evening, after the fundraiser activities ended

It's 11 o'clock at night. I must have dozed off after dinner, the frenzy of the last 24 hours having caught up with me. I wander out to the hall, looking for a few fresh towels in the linen closet.

"Angela."

I jump, startled, and drop the towels.

"Tony! Oh my god, you scared me."

"Hey...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare ya." Suddenly I realize I'm standing in front of him in nothing but my silk jammies.

"I was just uh...finishing up in the bathroom, about to turn in." He looks me up and down and a slow smile spreads across his face. I'm still a little groggy and as flattered as I am at his gaze, I can't think of a clever and seductive reply.

He takes a few steps toward me and picks up the towels, his eyes never leaving me. Now, only inches apart, he hands them to me, leans in and whispers, "I didn't expect to be turned on though."

He's freshly shaved and smells so good. His undershirt hugs his entire chest and torso and that tight and toned body of his tortures me now.

Finally I find some courage and some words.

"You know," I say suggestively as I trace my fingers delicately across his chest, "if it wasn't so late and if we weren't so beat from the last few days of fundraising..." I pause, letting the thought linger.

"What?" His eyebrows shoot up and he wraps his arms around pulling me close, while not so coyly stealing a peek down my shirt.

I kiss him lightly, my hands still massaging his muscled arms and chest. "Well, it's just..." I now kiss his neck. "My bed..." I follow with a trail of kisses along his collar bone. I can feel him getting aroused. "Is a whole lot comfier..." I come up for air and meet his eyes. "than that sleeping bag."

Our mouths meet, tongues entwine, and it's sexy and passionate. These small private moments, be it a glance or a conversation, the playful moment on his bed or in his sleeping bag, move us forward a little. I find that I am trusting myself and trusting us more, enough that I seize a moment like this and enjoy it. I wonder... who might we be as a couple?

He pulls back, shimmies a bit and I giggle. "You can't hide it," I tease.

"Oh stop! If I weren't so fatigued right now, I would take you up on that offer...you and me...in your comfy cozy bed."

"What?," I challenge. "You afraid you can't -"

"Ay oh. Oh ay. I could absolutely give you a night you would remember for the rest of your life." He stares at me, desire in his eyes. "I would just prefer we both feel refreshed...so it could last. All night."

"Mmmm...all night? I'll hold you to that."

I rest my head on his chest and we catch our breath, knowing there will be more to come soon and yet enjoying this early awkward stage when everything, every thought, glance, and touch is so new and fills us with butterflies and promise. "Walk me to my room?," I ask.

He kisses the top of head and we cross the hall (with the towels) and pause at my door.

"Hey, Ang. I got one question."

"What's that?"

"You know, you never did tell me who this Eddie fella is."

"Who?" I'm baffled.

"Eddie. The one you thought was making a pledge. So who is he?"

I can barely suppress a laugh. He's teasing yet still curious. Just the slightest hint that he might have competition gnaws at him.

"I mean, seeing as you and I have...started something here...I think I deserve to know if...if there's another man in your life."

I shake my head as let a suggestive smile escape. "Tony. He doesn't hold a flame to you."