Author: Thank you everyone! The reviews for this story have been so inspiring…I appreciate each and every one of you! Special thanks to bookworm03, AlmeidaFluff, and chezlovesyou. If you haven't read their stuff, I highly recommend it!
Also, thanks to those of you who read and reviewed "A Different Perspective." That one was one of those plot bunnies that just WILL NOT go away.
Last note, I promise: I know nothing about sprained ankles or torn ligaments. I was tempted to just conveniently forget about Tony's injury….but I like things pretty canon, and I'm already intending to completely disregard s5, so I decided not to. Bear with my lack of medical knowledge, please!
When you love someone - you'll do anything
You'll do all the crazy things that you can't explain
You'll shoot the moon - put out the sun
When you love someone
You'll deny the truth - believe a lie
There'll be times that you'll believe you can really fly
But your lonely nights - have just begun
When you love someone
When you love someone - you'll feel it deep inside
And nothin else can ever change your mind
When you want someone - when you need someone
When you love someone...
When you love someone - you'll sacrifice
You'd give it everything you got and you won't think twice
You'd risk it all - no matter what may come
When you love someone
You'll shoot the moon - put out the sun
When you love someone
-Bryan Adams, "When you love someone"
He waited until 5:03 to call her.
There were a number of reasons for this: (1.) He wanted to give her (and himself) time to sleep, (2.) he didn't want to come on too strongly and (3.) he thought he would seem less desperate if he waited until after five. But 5:30 seemed to late…what if she made other plans for dinner? And 5:15? Well, then it would just be obvious he'd been waiting until after five. Same with 5:10. And really, what was the point of waiting if he just went with 5:05? So in the end he screwed waiting and picked up the phone at 5:03.
Her phone rang. He tapped his pen nervously against the table. What if she wasn't home? Oh, God, he hadn't thought of that. He hadn't prepared an answering machine speech. It rang again. Would it be better to just hang up if he got her machine, or leave an awkward-sounding message? The phone rang a third time.
"Hello?"
She waited until after the third ring to answer, because she'd read something in Cosmo once that only losers with no lives waited by the phone and picked up after the first ring. She decided not to think about the fact that she'd taken the phone to bed with her that morning just to make sure she'd be able to get to it before the machine picked up. The caller ID said "Unlisted Number," but she knew it was him. She could feel it.
"Hey, Michelle, it's Tony."
Adrenaline shot through her veins. She always got a thrill when he said her name…not to mention when she said his. So she said it. "Hey, Tony." Then she was out. What else could she say? Somehow 'I love you and I want to have your babies' didn't seem right over the phone.
"How're you holding up? Did you get some sleep?"
He was so sweet to be concerned about her! Michelle felt parts of her beginning to melt into girly puddles of goo. "Yeah, actually I slept all day and I just woke up. Which probably means I won't get to sleep tonight, but I just couldn't resist. How about you?"
"Same here."
There was a little pause. Michelle frantically tried to come up with something to talk about, but apparently one of the gooey puddles used to be her brain, because she was drawing blanks.
"Listen," Tony finally said, "If you aren't doing anything tonight, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to get together and grab some dinner somewhere. I mean, we did save LA from the nuclear bomb…"
"Sure, I'd like that."
"Great! Well, then, if you'll give me your address I'll pick you up in about an hour. I know it's early but frankly, I'm starved."
Suddenly Michelle was, too.
As soon as she hung up, Tony leapt to his feet and did a victory dance that, that anyone witnessed it, he would deny to his dying day. It was especially embarrassing considering the awkward brace on his ankle. Sarge, the middle-aged German shepherd lying on the kitchen floor, gave Tony a mournful look.
"She said yes, Sarge!" With one last triumphant cry, Tony limped to the bathroom. There he took a shower that was nothing short of acrobatic- the doctors had told him he could neither take the brace off for three days nor get it wet. He was thinking glumly about the restrictions this might put on his- and hopefully Michelle's- sex life, but as he lathered up his face and started shaving, he realized that it might be a blessing in disguise.
He didn't just want Michelle physically- he wanted her emotionally, spiritually…pretty much every way possible. And while he knew that sleeping together right away wouldn't diminish in any way his deeper feelings for her, he wanted Michelle to know just how much he respected and admired her. So he decided to wait, however difficult it might be. Slow down, Almeida, he reminded himself, she might change her mind about you. Your table manners might disgust her, or you might find you have nothing to talk about outside of work. There's a lot of night left before the goodnight kiss.
Sarge followed Tony around the house as her nervously readied himself to pick up Michelle. He decided to stay casual- it had been a long day after all- with jeans and one of his customary black shirts. He wondered whether or not to utilize the all-but-full bottle of cologne one of his sisters had given him for Christmas and decided that since he never wore it to work, it might seem to desperate. He was desperate- for a certain curly-haired coworker- but Michelle didn't need to know that. Then he debated whether or not to take his crutches, finally deciding not to. He could walk fine without them, as long as he didn't have to go too far.
As soon as she hung up, Michelle ran to the bathroom. She put her Billy Joel Greatest Hits CD in the stereo and cranked it up as loud as the neighbors would allow before hopping into the shower. The music was upbeat and easy to sing along to…just what she needed to get her jazzed up for a big date. Not that she needed any extra adrenaline.
"The Downeaster 'Alexa'" was playing when she hopped out of the shower. A quick glance at the clock told her she only had 50 minutes left to get ready for her first date with the man of her dreams. Oh my God, Dessler, she told herself. Calm down. You're turning into a girly-girl. A part of her protested, what's wrong with that? But Michelle squashed the insubordination. She was having enough doubts about how to act tonight.
She knew she should just be herself and go with the flow, but she was still worried. In spite of everything, she worked with Tony. If things didn't work out, she still had to face him the next morning, and her shy, insecure side urged her to maintain her cool, collected façade all evening long. But Michelle's lovesick heart was begging her to go all out and do all the things Pax had been advising her of for years: flirt, touch his arm, make a lot of eye contact, wear perfume, giggle shyly, and wear a low-cut dress.
Which brought to mind another problem: what to wear? That question, Michelle thought cynically, had been haunting women for generations. If she wore a dress, Tony was sure to show up in jeans, but if she wore denim, he'd arrive in slacks and a dinner jacket. She compromised by pairing one of her demure, serviceable black work-skirts with a red halter top she hadn't worn since the last time Pax dragged her to a club. Then she flew back to the bathroom and frantically applied makeup- sultry black eyeliner and mascara that she'd seen in Glamour- and contemplated her hair.
20 minutes left. There wasn't time to straighten it She settled for scrunching it with gel and leaving it down. Then she debated her jewelry options. She really wanted an excuse to wear her sexy gold hoops, but she reminded herself that she didn't want to look too dressed up, and settled on understated rhinestone studs.
Then, with five minutes left (assuming he'd be on time), she called Pax again.
"Wow, two calls in one day? What did I do to merit this?"
"Pax! He called and asked me to dinner, and he'll be here in five minutes. What should I do?"
"Him." Pax was a lot quicker on the uptake in the evenings.
"Before that," Michelle deadpanned.
"I dunno…what do you mean?"
"I mean, how do I act? What do I do? How do I let him know that I really like him without being too obvious?"
"Sweetie, you made out in a government agency, in front of witnesses. Unless he's an idiot, he probably already knows."
Michelle sighed. "You know what I mean. I just don't want to get pushy."
"I don't think you're capable of that. Stubborn, hell yes, but not pushy."
"He's gonna be her any minute! You have to help me, Pax!" Michelle was standing next to her front window, peering surreptitiously around the curtains to watch for Tony's arrival.
"Okay, listen and repeat after me."
"Okay."
"I am Michelle Dessler. I am a hot-shot government agent. I am a confident, successful woman." Michelle dutifully echoed Pax. "I don't need this man, I want him, and if I am my normal, wonderful self I will get him."
Michelle turned away from the window and paced her living room floor. "That's the problem. I'm not sure that's true…I think I actually do need Tony."
There was silence on the other end of the phone. Then, finally, "I'm happy for you, Michelle. I hope it works out."
Someone knocked on the door. Michelle's heart doubled its already frantic speed. "I gotta go- he's here!" She set the phone down on the nearest flat surface, took a deep breath, and opened the door.
He nearly fell over when he saw her. Yes, she looked that different than she did at the office. Her skirt wasn't indecently short- in fact, it was longer than was conventional- and her shirt, though bright, didn't show as much skin as it could have. It was her hair, a part of Tony's brain realized, that set the mood. It was loose and flowing around her shoulders in dark, silky curls that just begged to be touched, caressed.
"Hi, Tony," she said. He shivered when he heard his name on her lips. He always did that- it was one of the many problems their attraction caused in the workplace.
"Hi," he managed to say. After a few more seconds of staring at her, he shook himself back to reality. "You ready to go?"
She nodded and stepped into the hallway, testing the door's lock behind her. "So where are we going?"
"You like Italian?"
"Does anyone not?" She smiled at him, and he felt something inside him go all mushy.
"Actually, I've tried to give my dog leftover meatballs before, and he won't touch 'em."
"You have a dog?"
He nodded. "Yeah. His name's Sarge…a retired police dog."
"Really? I wouldn't have thought police dogs would make very good pets."
Tony shrugged. "Maybe they don't, I don't know. All I know is they were looking for a home for him somewhere outside the city once he got too old to work. I figured my apartment would be too small for such a big dog, but I offered to let him stay with me for awhile while they looked for a permanent place for him. But when the time finally came to take him out to these people in the country, he- his name was Colombo back then- gave me this look- this accusatory glare that reminded me of my old drill sergeant, and I couldn't do it. We've been together ever since, and he's never once complained about the lack of space."
"What a sweet story," Michelle said with a (dare he say it?) adoring look in her eyes. The mushy thing inside him got mushier.
The ride to the restaurant passed swiftly. They talked about childhood pets, which led to childhood. By the time they reached their destination, they were relating high school horror stories to each other.
He opened her door for her.
For some reason, this floored Michelle. No man she had ever dated had done that for her before. He also helped her out of the car, held her hand on the way into the restaurant and held that door, as well. Apparently, chivalry wasn't dead after all.
She looked around the foyer with interest, and suddenly felt very under-dressed. At least she'd worn a skirt, but Tony was in jeans (which looked sinfully good on him, she had to admit. It was a good thing she wasn't standing a few paces behind him, or she might have had trouble not staring). Several other couples were milling about; all the men were wearing suits and all the women were wearing cocktail dresses. Tony seemed unfazed. He walked right up to the maitre'd and said "Almeida, table for two, please."
"Do you have a reservation, sir?"
Tony looked the man up and down. "Oh, you're new, aren't you?"
"I'm not sure what that has to do with your reservation, sir."
To Michelle's delight and fascination, Tony then bribed the maitre' d. She never actually saw the money- just Tony's extended hand meeting the suited man's behind the podium. "That's for tonight," Tony said. "Tell Theo I'm here the next time you see him, will ya? Thanks."
Mere moments later they were seated. "How did you do that?" Michelle asked.
"Do what?"
"That thing where you pass the money to the maitre'd without looking at it or anyone else seeing it. How do you do that?"
He shrugged. One corner of his mouth turned up.
"I would suspect," she continued, "that that's what they taught you about in sixth grade Health, when they separated the boys from the girls, only I've never seen a guy under 22 do it successfully. Is it some sort of college graduation requirement?"
At that, Tony laughed outright. Michelle decided then and there that her new mission in life was to make this man laugh as often as possible. He didn't do it nearly enough. She managed it twice more during their meal and was working on the setup for a third while Tony waited to get his credit card back (her offers to pay half had received no acknowledgement whatsoever) when they were interrupted by the arrival of a man she didn't know.
"Tony!" the man cried, shaking Tony's hand enthusiastically. He looked to be in his early thirties- handsome, with pale skin, nearly black hair and hazel eyes. "Why didn't you call and tell us you were coming? I would have set aside a better table for you!"
"Not necessary, Theo, this one's great. I should probably apologize, though, for troubling your maitre'd."
Theo waved his hand dismissively. "Don't worry about Peter. From now on, he knows to seat you right away. But," he turned to Michelle and smiled, "never mind business. Aren't you going to introduce us?"
"Michelle, this is Theo Dalton, my brother-in-law. Theo, Michelle Dessler."
It did not escape Michelle's notice that he didn't tell Theo what her relationship to Tony was. She was grateful, in a way- it would've been horrible to hear him say "my colleague" or "my coworker"- but was a trifle disappointed. For a second there she'd hoped to hear him say "my date."
Theo positively beamed. "Ahh! So you're the girl! It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Michelle." She looked at Tony in askance, then back at Theo.
"What do you mean? Surely Tony hasn't….mentioned me before?"
"Oh, no," Theo laughed, "never by name. But Tony's not just my brother-in-law, he's my friend, and it hasn't escaped my notice that he hasn't dated in months, yet still shows all his own little idiosyncratic signs of being in love."
"Theo!" Tony glared at his friend. Theo ignored him and grinned widely at Michelle's blush. "Don't you need to be somewhere else?"
"Sadly, I'm afraid I do. Michelle, it was lovely to meet you. Please, come back soon, with or without this deadbeat. Tony, will we see you Sunday night?"
Tony sighed. "Yeah, I'll be there."
Theo beamed. "Good! Angie will be happy to hear that. She's missed you the last few weeks."
"Works been hectic," Tony said, while Michelle nodded in agreement. Even before the bomb, things had been escalating. Hopefully they'd have at least a few days of relative ease before something else came up.