Hank glanced at his watch as the limo rumbled down the road, slowing as it approached a rather luxurious looking tower block. He felt more nervous than he was admitting fiddling with the cufflinks on his left arm, trying to tell himself that it was ridiculous to be so, they were only going as friends, nothing…more. For Twinkies sake McCoy, he snarled at himself, stop acting like some besotted teenager and be the mature, intelligent man you are! His eyes scanned the front of the building as they pulled up, he looked over the figure of a woman dressed in midnight blue silk, a man in a tuxedo, three small children, another woman – his eyes darted back to the first as she started towards the car. With a jolt he realised it was Isabelle. He bolted out of the limo, holding the door open for her as she glided past elegantly. She smiled as he got in beside her, fiddling with an earring,

"Not overdressed am I?" She asked softly as the car started to pull away. He took in her bare shoulders, the sharp cut of her collarbones at odds with the softness of her rounded breasts, pushed up by the material of the figure hugging dress, "I don't usually wear things this revealing but I don't actually own any evening dresses and the man in the shop said it was perfect but I-" She bit her lip, realising she was babbling and blushing beneath his intense stare,

"You look…" Hank swallowed hard, the roof of his mouth gone inexplicably dry as she lent forward to adjust the ankle strap of her shoes, "lovely" He said somewhat weakly, his brain screaming at him in embarrassment – Hank McCoy PhD? Verbally dexterous? I think NOT! She graced him with a smile,

"Thank you, sir" The smile slipped away a little, "um, you said something about dancing"

"Yes" He frowned in mock severity, "now you're going to tell me you can't dance" He added,

"Pretty much, sir, yes and I've heard what a great dancer you are and…" Her hands twisted in her lap, the white gloves she wore straining elegantly over her tiny hands. He looked at her, somehow resisting the urge to lean over and kiss the sharp protrusion of her collarbone an urge that had slowly become stronger over the months…it was just…there…soft and sharp and just asking to be licked. Hank shook his head, trying to dislodge the thought,

"You'll do just fine" He said as reassuringly as he could manage whilst his stomach did flips, "if you trip over too many times you can just stand on my feet, how about that?" She looked up at him, reading his expression before laughing,

"Great, and look about five years old whilst doing it" She quipped back, making him smile. He watched as she looked out the window, her hands seemingly moving on their own accord as she reached into her purse to produce a tissue, tearing it into tiny pieces, "what's this talk going to be about?" She asked, continuing the desecration of the tissue as she looked over at him. He looked very smart, the black suit and dark blue tie suiting his broad frame better than she would have expected. She blushed and looked away at the thought, he wouldn't want…no, best not to think about it,

"Just a little comparison between cancer and mutation, why both should be classed as diseases and why a cure should be sought immediately for both" He murmured absently. There had been something…strange in her expression when she had glanced at him…something almost like…no, no it had to have been a trick of the light,

"A light topic then" She said dryly, reaching for another tissue as the last one lay in tatters on her lap. He laughed softly, reaching out to take the tissue pieces from her lap, swiping them into the bin provided before plucking the fresh tissue from her fingers,

"Don't worry, you'll do just fine" He smiled, taking her hands in his to still them. She smiled back, albeit a little sickly, squeezing his fingers as best she could,

"Thank you" She murmured, not letting go of his hand, even as they pulled up. He stepped out first, ignoring the flashes of camera's and the calling of journalists as he helped his secretary from the car, "Oh God" she murmured without moving her lips, clinging to his arm, "you didn't say there'd be reporters" She looked up at him, her eyes desperate,

"I didn't know" He replied in a clipped voice, glaring at the reporters as they made their way to the door, trying to shelter her with his body before they made it inside the white marble entry way. Someone took their coats, "I apologise, I wasn't informed-"

"Ah! Hank! So nice to see you outside of the proverbial shell" An elderly man with white hair and a huge fake grin headed towards them, hands outstretched. Isabelle felt Hank tense as they entered the building, reaching out stiffly to shake the elderly mans hand,

"Hello Huge" Hank said, almost coldly, the elderly man didn't seem to notice,

"And who is this? A new girlfriend maybe?" He winked at Isabelle as he shook her hand; she had to fight the impulse to hide behind Hank and cringe,

"Isabelle Caley…and you are?" She asked, trying to keep the nerves and ice out of her voice,

"Hugh Chatterley" The old man beamed, "nice to see you've finally got yourself a nice little woman, Hank, hmm? Maybe we'll hear the sound of wedding bells?" Isabelle bit her lip as she felt Hanks weight shift slightly, wishing to sink into the ground must be hard for someone who's over six foot tall. Blushing a little, Hank started,

"Miss Caley is-"

"Nothing more than the wrong girl at the wrong time" A woman, as old as 'Hugh', glided over as smoothly as a ship and about the same size, smiling with calculating hatred, "isn't that right, Mr McCoy?" She murmured, her arm wrapping around Hugh's,

"Er-"

"Have we met?" Isabelle asked, instantly taking a dislike to the woman,

"Lady Charlotte Chatterley" The woman said, shaking her hand for the briefest time possible, "are you really getting married to that – I mean, Mr McCoy?"

"No" Isabelle said truthfully, watching the triumphant expression on the older woman's face, "but I would say yes if he asked me, Lady Chatterley, and do you know why-" Isabelle cut herself off a moment, looking away as she attempted to regain control of her emotions, "Because he's intelligent and honest and a better human than you'll ever be" She smiled brightly, knowing exactly how to annoy the other woman the most, "and he'd probably be a damn good fuck" She relished the vulgarity, feeling herself blush at the little used word and the openly shocked expression on Hank McCoy's face that she could see from the corner of her eye. Lady Chatterley's mouth opened…then closed…opened…and closed again. With an indignant little noise she dragged Hugh – who was gaping at Isabelle and blushing bright red – away,

"Er, nice talking to you Hank!" He called. Isabelle closed her eyes, cringing inwardly as Hanks hand rested on her shoulder,

"Did you…" He trailed off weakly, She squeezed her eyes tighter, not wanting to hear the reproach or the question that was bound to follow, "That was brilliant" He said quietly, amusement and awe warring in his eyes. She opened her eyes and turned to face him, smiling a little shyly,

"Thanks" Her smiled dropped, replaced by a scowl, "that nasty piece of work. How dare she be so mean" She snarled. An odd moment of quiet seemed to come over her, "you're not really gay, are you? I heard it on the news" She asked,

"What? Oh, no" He blushed, "No it was just something I said to get back at…"

"Trish Trilby" She murmured, looking up at him with an odd expression, "I know…oh God" She pressed a palm to her face, "did I really swear at a Lady?" He tried to bite back on a chuckle, amused despite himself at the mortification in her expression,

"Yes…I wish I'd had a camera" He said dreamily, "the look on Lady Chatterley's face was incalculable" He grinned, leading them towards where the seats were seat out for dinner.

"Oh lord no!" She murmured, "it might have broken the camera lens" She smiled just a little wickedly, her mind doing relieved little dances that he hadn't asked whether or not she had meant it all, "besides where would you put the photo Mr McCoy?"

"Hank" He interrupted without thinking, scowling down at his plate as he thought, "that was a very fine thing you did for me, Miss Caley-"

"Isabelle" She quipped back, blushing as she unfolded her napkin, well at least he knows my name now, "don't mention it" He smiled, watching her fiddle with things as food was served by waiters. She moved with…awkward grace, it was the only way he could describe it, like she was aware of every single movement that she made,

"Beautiful" He murmured absently, catching the way the light glinted off her hair. She looked up at him,

"What is?" He caught himself blushing again,

"Er, the rose in front of you" He cleared his throat and looked away,

"Iceberg" She replied, staring at the mass of knives and forks that lay either side of her plate,

"Pardon?"

"Iceberg, it's the name of the rose" She reached forward and plucked one from the vase, earning a lot of odd looks from the people seated around them, "here" She handed it to him, "heavily scented and the thorns aren't too spiky so it makes a perfect table decoration" She watched as he closed his eyes and breathed deeply of the scent. It was familiar to him but he couldn't quite figure out where from, "one of my favourites next to New Dawn"

"A simple secretary know so much about roses?" He asked, the hint of teasing in his voice, she smiled back at him – that…that look in her eyes, the one she had looked at him with earlier, was there again,

"You are not a nice person sometimes, Hank McCoy" She said in a voice rich with laughter, "I'd even go so far as to say you're quite naughty" Resisting the urge to grin and trying to ignore the blush that wanted in on his face, Hank leant forward and picked up the nearest menu,

"Oh look, they've got salmon"

The food was, as he had expected, divine and so was the company. She was all but sparkling beside him, laughing and thinking up witty jokes almost as quickly as he. They'd even had a small debate on the philosophies of Plato. Now they were discussing what the bible said about mutants,

"Interesting point, but the vile creatures of the earth were wiped out during Noah's flood, remember?" He pointed out. She sighed, punching the table a little childishly, eyes glittering in a mix of frustration and laughter,

"And what if they weren't 'vile creatures'? What if they were mutants and the flood was merely-" She cut herself off a moment and Hank had the opportunity to study her. Her hair was starting to come a little loose, soft, tempting tendrils curling around her neck, her eyes sparkled and she was flushed just a tiny bit. Hank licked his lips unconsciously, "Oh!" She said suddenly, head tilted a little, still smiling, "this is my favourite song" A soft band had started up somewhere, people made their way to the circle in the centre of the table,

"Well, the invite did mention dinner and dancing" He offered his hand, an enquiring tilt to his eyebrows,

"I…Hank, really, I'm not a very good dancer" She blushed but took his hand anyway. He led her to the dance floor, tentatively placing a hand on her waist, the other still holding her hand, an odd fission running up his arm as she placed her hand there,

"Just…follow my lead" He murmured as a deep rich voice started to sing softly.

...It's quarter to three…there's no one in the place…'cept you and me… so set 'em up Joe…I got a little -

She sighed, resting her head on his shoulder as they moved to the slow blues song. He could hear her humming along softly, surprised when she hit the deep notes,

"Oh…Hank" She sighed happily, closing her eyes, "it's been such a lovely evening"

...We're drinkin', my friend, to the end…of a brief episode…make it one for my baby…and -

"Thank you for coming with me" He murmured in reply, all but intoxicated by the scent of her hair, "I don't think I could have stood Lady Chatterley if it hadn't been for you" She lifted her head to smile up at him

...I got the routine…put another nickel…in the machine…

"Anytime" A mischievous grin crossed her face, "it was quite nice actually. It's been a while since I stretched my acting skills that much" Hank felt his heart sink a little, so it had all been an act

...Feelin so bad…won't you make the music -

"I don't think I could pretend to be that nice to her without slapping her" She finished, resting her cheek against his chest again, "I hope I didn't offend you with anything I said" She added. Hanks heart skipped a beat on its way back up

...I could tell you a lot…but it's not…in a gentleman's code…just make it one for my baby and one more -

"What? No, no not at all" Her hand slipped from his and he wondered for a minute if he'd said the wrong thing before it moved up to his shoulder, resting there as if fiddled with his lapel,

...You'd never know it but buddy I'm a kinda poet and I gotta lotta -

He swallowed hard, letting his now free hand drift to the small of her back, feeling her sigh as his fingers flexed, all but engulfing the entirety of her waist.

...Oh when I'm gloomy, won't you listen to me, till -

"What time does the talk start?" She asked softly against his tie, closing her eyes and just loving the feel of him holding her, memorising every single detail from the sound of his heartbeat, to his masculine scent to the checked strength in his arms. It was probably the last time he would ever touch her like this, unless they were going to another party, so she might as well make the most of it

...Well, that's how it goes…Joe I know you get me…actions propose…and, thanks for the cheer…I hope you didn't mind my -

"Nine. Good and late so the speaker can get drunk enough to get the nerve up to stand in front of a crowd" He smiled as he felt her laugh against him. She felt wonderful in his arms, warm and soft and curvy and feminine. Her scent was heady and threatened to make him take leave of his good senses and kiss her right there in front of everyone. He sighed inwardly, if it was only what she wanted

...But this torch that I found… it's gotta be crowned or it soon might explode…just make it one for my baby and one more for the road

...The long…so long…alone…