Stupid 60's, thought Wyatt irately. The moment the motel door closed, and he knew everyone was safe for the night, the thought's he'd tried to supress flooded in in a torrent he couldn't ignore. Stupid Rittenhouse. Stupid New York. Stupid, overly nice couple. Stupid Barbara. Seriously. What the hell had that even been? Why did she have to goad Lucy like that? What the hell right did she have to tease her, touch her leg like that. KISS her for God's sake. And Lucy's stupid little moan. What the hell? That was his job! Only he should kiss her. Or touch her. He should be the only one making Lucy moan.

He ran a hand through his already dishevelled hair. Damnit. Lucy wasn't his. He shouldn't be thinking like that. He was the one who didn't have the right. He'd messed them up. It was his fault they weren't together. Might never be together. Not like he could ever deserve her. Damnit, now he was angry and depressed.

Flynn observed Wyatt storming about their room with fascination. The normally cool and collected soldier was totally discombobulated, stalking around with heavy feet, picking things up and putting them down for no reason, and breathing in huffs and sighs.

"You okay there?" Flynn finally asked.

"What?" Wyatt's eyes were narrow as he turned to him.

"You seem a bit tense."

"Tense? Nah. I'm good. I'm fine."

"Sure you are."

"Look man, do we have a problem here?"

Flynn put his hands up in defense. "No problem. Thought you wanted some man-chat."

Wyatt barked out a laugh. "What I want is…." His eyes went wide and he snapped his mouth shut with an audible clack.

"What you want is…" Flynn led.

"Nothing. I just want to go to sleep, finish this mission and get the hell home."

"Sounds good to me."

Flynn would have loved to push the man further but for the sake of the mission, he wouldn't. With the team's friction already high the mission could not afford such an incident. The man branded terrorist quietly went about brushing his teeth before settling into one of the two small beds in the room. Wyatt continued to stalk about, checking and rechecking cupboards, nooks and cranny under the guise of safety assessment. Then he brushed his teeth. Then he rifled through his bedside table, ripping out a travel catalogue and attempting to read it. Then he went and brushed his teeth again. With a huff he finally hauled himself off the bed he hadn't even tried to sleep in and stalked out the door muttering something about finding ice.

Flynn sighed.

Much as it pained him to admit, Wyatt and Lucy needed to relieve some… pressure. Badly. He only hoped they could resolve whatever it was that was going on with them before the most important part of their mission the next day. Ensuring the raid went south. If they were too busy avoiding each other, who knows what could go wrong.

"So. Lucy."

The historian looked up from the catalogue she'd been trying to read but had in fact only been staring blankly at.

"Rufus."

"How ya doin?"

"Fine. You?"

He sighed. "Really?"

Lucy's eyes were comically huge, an innocent look that was blatantly fake. "What?"

"What is up with you today?"

"Nothing. I told you I'm fine."

"Okay then, what is up with Wyatt then?"

"Wyatt? What about him? He's fine."

"Fine? Are you kidding me?"

"…No?"

"He is not fine. He is the opposite of fine. As are you."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You guys are redefining the phrase walking on eggshells, man. It's ridiculous."

Lucy spluttered "What the hell do…"

"I'm sorry, I've been trying to be quietly supportive of you both… I know you've been through a lot, what with Jessica reappearing, and then being evil, and fake pregnancies, and my own untimely demise but that's all over with now. It's done. Sure Rittenhouse is still plugging away but come on, you can't wait forever, can you? The time is now, Lucy!"

Lucy, who had coughed and spluttered and guffawed through his speech finally went quiet. She plunked down onto the bed and looked down at her hands, wringing themselves in her lap.

"So what am I supposed to do?" she asked in a small voice.

"Well, you know… just…talk. Or whatever. Maybe kiss a little. Just… do your thang," he suggested with a few awkward hand gestures. He received a withering glare in response.

"It's not that simple!"

"Sure it is!"

"No, it's…"

"You guys would have been making out in that booth tonight if the drinks hadn't come. Admit it. It is the height of simplicity. You. Him. Lips. Whatever comes next, I don't want to know about."

"No, Wyatt doesn't… I mean… he was very clear he didn't want anything to do with me tonight."

"Yeah, cause he knows if he was alone with you he'd tear your clothes off and he's afraid you're not ready, so he's trying to do what he believes is the right thing and let you make the first move."

Lucy's eyes went wide and she gnawed her lip.

"You think so?"

Rufus let out a sigh. "I know so! Geez, how can it be so obvious to everyone except you guys?"

Lucy's mind swam with a torrent of rapid-fire thoughts. Could he be right? Could it be so simple? Was Wyatt ready? Was she ready? What would happen if… Like a switch had been flipped her thoughts abandoned her and images assaulted her instead. A fireplace. A clear night. Reflections off the pool. Sliding Wyatt's suspenders down his broad shoulders. Her slip being pulled up off her arms, tossed aside…

"Yeah, I know that look," Rufus interrupted just as things were getting good in her minds eye. "And I'm letting you know that I would be more than happy to switch rooms with Wyatt for the night. Flynn might try to kill me in my sleep but if you two don't sort yourselves out I'm afraid you'll both combust and that's two teammates dead instead of one."

She nodded vaguely, still half stuck in memories of Hollywood. "I'm, um… let me think about it some more," she mumbled, standing up. "I'm a bit hot. I'm gonna go look for an ice machine…."

"Do they have those in '69?"

"Yeah, first hotel ice machine was in '52," Lucy recited by rote as she stumbled out the door.

"Of course you would know that. And remember that, even now."

She shut the door without answering. Rufus sighed and flopped backwards onto the bed, rubbing his hands down his face. Who would have thought that his best friends' relationship status would be more trying than battling an evil cult trying to rewrite history.

Lucy was so preoccupied with Rufus' advice that this time she only saw the person in front of her at the last possible second. Throwing her hands up in surprise she thumped into the solid block of a firm chest.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry… Wyatt?"

The man in front of her blinked, just as surprised to see her as she was him. -

"What are you-" they spoke in unison.

Wyatt held up a bucket. "Ice."

"Oh," she gaped. "Um… me too…"

He laughed awkwardly. She did too. They both pretended they didn't see Wyatt look down at her chest, in that white dress, rising and falling with the nervous amusement.

"So, um, wild night," Wyatt commented, wincing as soon as he'd said the moronic words.

"Something like that," replied Lucy, purposely avoiding eye contact.

"You know, when you…" he trailed off.

"When I…?"

"And we… and…"

He had no idea what he was trying to say. Or how to say it. All he knew was that Lucy's eyes were so luminous, even by the yellowed light of the cheap hotel lights. How she could look so good after such a day was beyond him. But she did it. She did it so well.

Lucy couldn't believe how blue his eyes still looked, even in the muted light of the cheap hotel. How did his shoulders still look so defined? She found herself gazing at the breadth of them until her vision blurred. Blurred because a face came into view instead. The face with hose blue eyes, and bit of scruff, and strong jaw, getting closer and closer. Was Rufus right? Had he just been waiting for her?

Lucy's big, beautiful eyes blurred as Wyatt listed forward, as if beyond his control, her plump, pink lips a siren call he finally couldn't resist. He leaned forward and down, reaching for the taste of her, the taste he'd been so cruelly teased with once before, in another time, another place. His hands found her waist, so slim beneath the soft fabric of the dress. He could feel her heat, the scent of her pervading his every sense…

"Oh my god!" a shrill voice cut brutally through the fog.

Wyatt flew away from Lucy like he'd been burned, three feet back in a second, sweeping a hand through his hair and apologizing to the scandalized 60-something woman wearing a robe with curlers in her hair, gawking at them with a scandalized look on her face.

"Oh my god!" the woman scolded again.

"Sorry!" he spoke in a fervent but hushed tone, trying to calm her down before she woke anyone up. "So sorry miss, but you see, she tripped into me, and…"

"Tripped? Right into your mouth?"

"Umm…"

"Just go away! Go back to your room for God's sake!"

"Yes, yes, we'll do just that!" he gestured vaguely as if to indicate they had a shared room to go back to.

"Honestly," the woman muttered, turning around and stomping away. "Unbelievable."

They watched her go until she was out of sight down a corner. Wyatt turned around, cringing and apologetic. Lucy stared at the hallway wall like she wished she was anywhere but there. With him.

Crap.

"I.. I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"Don't be," she replied softly. "It's my fault. Always so clumsy."

He wanted to protest, to rail against her tendency to self-deprecate like that. But he didn't know how. He never knew how. Especially not now, when his treacherous brain kept calling out to touch her, grab her, take her in your arms and…

And do everything he so desperately wanted but couldn't. Not until she was ready. Not until she started it. After everything he'd put her through this was all he could give. The choice of when and where. Or ever.

Before he could turn into any more of an ass he excused himself.

"I'll just… go."

She looked at him like she wanted him to say more. Like she wanted to say more. But she stayed silent. So he turned around and walked back to his room in silence.

"Where's the ice?" queried Flynn.

"Go to hell."

Flynn's eyebrows rose. But he said nothing. He just watched as Wyatt slumped into the bathroom and closed the door.

Wyatt sat on the closed toilet seat, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, for how long he didn't know. His insides were churning and the world in front of him seemed to tilt and swirl along with it. Why did he feel so weird? And why the hell couldn't he keep his damn self in check? He'd been avoiding his feelings for Lucy for years. Had needed to work even harder lately, not wanting to push her in any way after what he'd done to her. So why was he now feeling and acting like a teenager with no self control? One sight of the pretty girl he liked and it was like his brain short circuited. If that lady hadn't shown up to interrupt them… who knows what might have happened.

"Back so soon?"

Lucy tried to give Rufus a patented Preston glare but it fell flat and they both knew it. Rufus had to bite his tongue to keep from asking what was up. Lucy sent him a tight smile in gratitude. He went back to reading his magazine as she shuffled to the bathroom. By the time she emerged his light was out and he was pretending to snore. She laid on top of her own sheets and stared up at the ceiling. It seemed to shift and tumble, not staying still like a fixed roof should. Why did she feel so weird? And why was she suddenly acting like a total ditz when it came to Wyatt? The way she'd been goading him all night… she just didn't do things like that. Especially not to him. She'd been carefully controlling her feelings for him for years. Had needed to work harder than ever when Jessica showed up. And now, still dealing with the pain of his betrayal… Why was she suddenly acting like a teenage girl, right out of a cheesy movie, swooning at every turn over the handsome hunk? If that lady hadn't shown up to interrupt them… who knows what might have happened.

"So, umm… you think about what I said?" Rufus asked the next morning as Lucy attempted to tame her hair in the bathroom mirror.

"Yeah."

"And…?"

"And what?"

"Did you guys…"

"No, Rufus, we're on a mission for God's sake. I was only gone for like, five minutes."

"You were on a mission in Hollywood in 1941, too."

She clamped her mouth shut and continued to fuss with her appearance. Not that there was much she could do. She'd had a horrible night of sleepless anxiety. Worrying about Wyatt, about the mission, and about the strange sensations she was feeling coursing through her body. With the light of day the moroseness was disappearing while the heightened awareness sharpened. Her eyes were red, hair a mess, and skin was flushed. She should shower but the thought of getting out of her outfit then having to squeeze back into it again was somehow worse than staying in the state she was. Her mind just wouldn't shut off. She was starting to get worried. Could her state of distractedness compromise the operation? She was starting to forget why that would be bad. Her thoughts just kept slipping back to Wyatt.

"Earth to Lucy? Hello?"

"What, Rufus?" she snapped, whirling to face him.

"Woah, calm down there."

"Do you have to always be talking?"

"Wow," he breathed. "I guess you really didn't resolve anything."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"The tension train is definitely still in the station."

She made a disgusted noise and slammed the bathroom door.

"Hope Flynn is having better luck," Rufus muttered.

Flynn was, in fact, not having any more luck.

"Are you finished yet?" he called for the third time.

"Get off my back!" Wyatt yelled from the bathroom.

"You've been in there for ages. Not to mention half the night. No sleep for you, I guess. You writing a book or something? Finding inspiration sitting in the tub?"

Wyatt in fact had relocated from the toilet seat to the tub at one point. The wallpaper seemed to change patterns less while lying in the tub. What the hell was wrong with him? And why did the gently swirling patterns keep reminding him of Lucy's flower dress?"

"It's none of your damn business!" he growled to the older man.

"How was your ice run? I notice you came back without any."

"I never made it to the ice room. There was… an incident in the hallway. I had to help someone."

"…Okay?"

"It's… it's none of your business!"

Flynn decided he'd poked the horse enough. He'd hoped everyone would have been able to get a good night's rest and that things would be back to normal in the morning but his hopes were unanswered. Wyatt, at least, was worse. His only hope now was that the team would be able to make it to the end of the mission intact.

To Be Continued...

Author's Notes: Ooph... Clockblocked by Curlers. Rough night.