*knock knock* Anyone still out there reading this? Man, this pandemic. All the days are the same, and in that blur, somehow I haven't updated this in forever. Still working on it, pinky swear.

Happy belated Thanksgiving to those from the US, those in the US, and anyone else who happened to eat turkey on Thursday :)

Thanks again to qwertygal for having a look at this before you did. Any rogue edits after she did are my fault.


You've given me the best of you

But now I need the rest of you


Lucy

- 10/24/2017 Tue -

Sorry. No parking anywhere. Late.

5:57 PM

I get free parking at hotel. La Valencia.
Can just walk from there. I can call front
desk and give your name for my free spot?

5:58 PM

ok

5:59 PM

I called. Go to front desk. Give your name,
my name, and room 517.

6:03 PM

Ok. Be there in 10-15

6:04 PM


Wyatt glanced around from his current ad hoc location, where he was blocking a driveway. No one was glaring or honking, so he quickly swiped the hotel name into Google Maps. Lucy's hotel.

He sighed as he glanced at the directions and pulled back out into traffic. Going to Lucy's hotel in any manner, for any reason, hadn't been in the cards. Then again, neither had been seeing Lucy at all, but his half-assed attempt at just forgetting about her hadn't gone any better this most recent go-round than it had any other time. One text from her reminding him that she'd be in town again, and he'd folded immediately. Which was how he'd found himself pulling up to the swanky boutique hotel that Lucy's conference was apparently being held at. And handing his key over to the equally swanky valet, who informed him that he'd have to get the parking card for the room from the front desk and bring it back out.

None of it made any sense to Wyatt, but he was already feeling guilty about being late and keeping Lucy waiting, and he didn't want to make her sit there alone any longer. So he didn't really have any choice; he went along with all of it. Including taking the extra room key that the front desk clerk insisted he needed.

The same room key that he now held in his hand as he hurried along the sidewalk to the restaurant.

The same room key that had his mind going to a few dangerous places, considering the things one could do in a hotel room. Particularly in Lucy's hotel room.

He squeezed his eyes shut momentarily and shook his head, trying all the while to ensure he didn't trip over something on the sidewalk. And then he shoved the offending key into his pocket.

If only out of sight was truly out of mind. For the key and for Lucy.

That was why agreeing to see her was such a terrible idea. There was no use pretending anymore, or trying to deny it, or whatever. Since that first time she'd come down here, and they'd gone out for burgers, Lucy had taken up what was essentially permanent residence in his day-to-day thoughts. No matter how much he tried to push her out of his mind. He'd fallen for her. Hard. While they were working together, and possibly even more since then. And these extra visits that she was making down to San Diego were doing him no favors in terms of being able to put it all behind him and get over her.

Because beyond her deserving more than him? Someone who made more sense for her, and her life? He didn't even have any indication that she would want him anyway. It takes two to tango and all that, and sure, it had been nice to catch up with her the first time she'd been down, but that's all it was for her. It had to be. Why would it be anything other than that to her?

All of which meant, he reminded himself as he climbed the stairs to the restaurant – definitely fancier than the brewpub he'd brought her to last time – that he just had to keep a lid on all his stupid feelings, not make an ass of himself, and just try to get through the dinner without drooling over her.

She wanted to see a friend; he'd give her a friend. No matter how much he wished – and hated that he wished – that more could happen.

Once he reached the hostess' stand, he gave Lucy's name, telling the girl that the person - woman, errr, friend - he was meeting was already seated. And as he followed her through the maze of tables, he tried not to think of how much easier that explanation would have been if he could have just said 'date'...

Lucy was skimming something on her phone when they approached the table, but she must have caught a glimpse of the motion coming toward her; she glanced up from the screen and abandoned the phone with a wide smile spreading across her face. Wyatt assumed the hostess just left them at that point, but he didn't really know or care, because Lucy had jumped to her feet to welcome him with a hug.

Was it the way he wished he could have hugged her? Just held her to him, melting into her arms and never letting go?

Well, no. But he still got to breathe her in for a fleeting second, which was something.

She pulled away more quickly than he would have liked, but she still looked… happy. And freakin' beautiful.

"You're here," she proclaimed, as she eyed the table behind her, ready to ease herself back into her seat.

"Yeah," Wyatt replied. "Sorry I'm late," he added with an animated wince.

Lucy brushed that comment off as she sat back down and adjusted her chair. "Don't worry about it. So how are-"

"Oh," Wyatt cut in. He didn't mean to interrupt her, but he didn't want to forget. Fishing in his pocket, he continued, "I have your key."

Looking baffled, Lucy frowned in confusion.

He managed to extract the key card and slide it across the table as he sat down. "The desk. They, uh, made me take it," he managed to spit out, if somewhat stiltedly. "Figured I was, ya know, staying with you. In the room. So… here." Wyatt cursed himself inwardly for being an idiot about it; it was just a key, given to him mistakenly because of a misunderstanding. It wasn't a reason to get all tongue-tied. And definitely not a reason for the tips of his ears to be burning. He really hoped the lighting was dim enough that Lucy couldn't see how red they were.

Then again, it almost looked like a bit of pink crept up onto her cheeks as her expression transformed from confused to… flustered?

Was it terrible of him - he who had just vowed to himself to just do anything he could to force his brain to stay squarely in 'friend' territory - to irrationally wish that she'd tell him to keep the key and stay with her?

Yes, Wyatt scolded himself. Yes. Pretty terrible.

Thankfully, Lucy's voice interrupted that train of thought before it could get any further into inappropriate territory, as she stammered, "Right. Right. Thank you." And with that, she plucked the key from the table and shoved it in her own pocket.

Out of sight, out of mind, Wyatt hoped, yet again.

Before he could fully clear his mind and transition to safer conversational topics, Lucy did it for him.

"Ok, so… you're here," she said, stating the obvious. She grinned, any discomfort he'd elicited by bringing up the room key having faded. "How are you?" she asked. "You're still not deployed? Or anything? I mean, obviously," she amended. "But why?"

Wyatt shrugged. He'd never put all that much thought into the 'why', of the Army choosing his assignments and missions or of anything else; he'd told Rufus as much not all that long ago. But truth be told, recently he'd been hesitant to inquire about his status lest it spur them into shipping him off somewhere. He knew, he knew, that he'd be better able to put Lucy behind him if he did end up halfway around the world. But he couldn't bring himself to do anything that might make that happen.

He couldn't exactly tell her that, however, so he just answered rhetorically, "What are they gonna have me do? How do you beat the last mission?"

Lucy smirked. "Touché."

Thinking it better to focus on her rather than anything else that was too close to his own inappropriate emotional attachment, Wyatt threw a similar question back at her. "What about you? Ready for your meeting thing?"

That earned him a weary sigh. "It's as good as it's going to get, I think," she muttered.

Wyatt shook his head and let out a soft chuckle at her seeming lack of confidence in her work. "Which I'm sure is very good," he assured her.

Lucy just eyed him skeptically.

"Lucy Preston wouldn't stand for anything less," he reminded her, sincere, but with a touch of a tease.

He could see her face flush again as she rolled her eyes, scoffing, "Whatever…"

Wyatt didn't quite know where to go from there; he didn't have a drink yet to provide him with a plausible distraction, so it was definitely time to flag down a server and order one. And, thinking Lucy might be due for another given how long she'd been sitting there while he fought the parking battle, he scanned the table to see what she'd chosen.

But there was nothing there. "You didn't get a drink?" he wondered aloud, confused.

That pretty pink was back in her cheeks as she shrugged and said simply, "You waited for me last time."

Wyatt swallowed hard. Couldn't she just be less… endearing? It really would make things easier for him.

But then she wouldn't be Lucy...

The lack of drinks was quickly remedied; a server showed up only a few seconds later. Wyatt was surprised when, despite the place being a more upscale Italian place than anywhere they'd been before, Lucy passed over the wines and opted for one of the fruity bottled beers offered. Which alleviated a bit of the self-inflicted pressure he'd been feeling, so Wyatt gave himself permission to stick to beer as well, though he just opted for the simple porter they had on tap.

He was also more than a little relieved – after glancing at the menu once the server had left with their drink order and spotting things like octopus and duck liver among the appetizers – to find recognizable pizzas and pastas further down the menu. His decision was a quick one, and the menu put down equally as fast. Wyatt couldn't help it; as much as he didn't like to admit it, his time was far better spent focusing on Lucy.

Though the restaurant was a little more fancy, she was actually a bit more casual than the last time he'd seen her - dark jeans instead of a skirt, hair in a messy ponytail - probably because her official meetings didn't start until tomorrow. Not that the more casual air did anything to dull the flickers of attraction he'd never been able to fully tamp out. Hell, if anything, the otherwise modest high but wide neck of her shirt coupled with her hair pulled up, only served to fan those flickers into reluctant flames.

Wyatt couldn't help but stare as Lucy studied her menu; her collarbone was elegant and pretty in the low light of the restaurant, with her locket draped over, and her long, graceful neck practically begged for his touch.

His mind had just begun venturing down the shameless path of debating whether he'd prefer that touch to be his fingers or his lips when Lucy set down her menu and looked up.

He dropped his gaze; that was why he shouldn't have agreed to see her again. Just being near her… short-circuited his brain, or something. She didn't need him drooling over her like some lecherous creep.

So, grateful that she didn't seem to have noticed his ogling, Wyatt spat out the first, and safest, question he could think of when it came to Lucy. Anything to get his mind out of the gutter. "How's teaching?" he inquired with a forced cough, as much to clear his mind as his throat.

Thankfully, she took the bait. Of course she took the bait; it was Lucy, and he'd asked about her teaching.

"Mostly good," Lucy replied with a smile. "I mean," she amended, "crazy – it always is – and extra stressful because of, you know, things being… different," she emphasized, "but it's good."

Wyatt couldn't help but smile back. "That's great," he said, genuinely happy that she was back to what she loved and no longer trapped in the insanity that had been the dangerous jumps to chase Flynn.

But Lucy let out a weary sigh in response, sounding considerably less happy that Wyatt had just felt. "Not if I don't get tenure this time," she corrected him with a grimace.

"You'll get it," Wyatt assured her.

Not that he had any standing to assure her of such things, and Lucy was quick to set him straight. "I really don't know," she shrugged, biting her lip. "Like I said, that's why I'm killing myself to do all this extra stuff, like this whole workshop down here. I don't know…"

"But it's here," Wyatt countered with a frown. "You're here. It'll go well, right?"

"Yeah, I mean, that's good," Lucy conceded. "But it's more than that," she continued. "Now that we're all here, I have to… network. Talk to people, plan projects and collaborations. It's not so much the meeting, it's the unofficial things," she explained. "Lunches, drinks. That's when people actually get to know you. And I need people from outside of Stanford to… vouch for me with reference letters. So yeah," she sighed, "there's the meeting, but I almost have to be more 'on' when it's not the official meeting, you know?"

Wyatt didn't really know. And until she'd just told him, he probably would have assumed that it was just the concrete things she could put on a resume that would have mattered. The schmoozing and networking to try to prove herself? Who knew? Not that he thought she'd have any issues - she'd had pretty much any and every famous person they'd come across on their jumps practically wrapped around her little finger. She sure as hell had him wrapped around her little finger, despite his best efforts to resist her. He just wished she had more confidence in herself. And that her supervisors at Stanford wouldn't be jackasses about her tenure again.

"It'll be fine," he attempted to reassure her again. It was an empty promise, but what else could he say?

Of course, Lucy didn't look entirely convinced, but any protest she might have made was cut off by the arrival of their beers.

The server also took their food orders and quickly disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving the two of them with their drinks.

And when Lucy shot him a grin and tipped her bottle towards his glass, Wyatt couldn't help the big, stupid grin that spread across his own face, nor the little flutter that rippled through his stomach as he clinked his drink against hers.

After that first sip on both their parts, it was Lucy who directed the conversation away from her work to his. "What about you?" she quizzed, taking a second taste of her drink. "You're still here. What do you… do… if you're just around locally?"

"Not much, honestly," Wyatt answered. "I think they really don't know what to do with me." And normally, he'd be bored and antsy for another assignment somewhere, hating being stuck sitting around doing nothing. Hell, he had been. Right up until Lucy had first come down to visit. Now, he was torn - a deployment would mean getting away from her and maybe finally moving on. On the other hand, a deployment would take him away from her. And as much as it might be good for him, it still sounded unbearable. Not that Lucy ever needed to know that. So he shrugged, offering up a bit more of a bland reply to her question. "Still mostly some mentoring and training the younger guys. Gotta work out. And I'm trying to learn Russian and Korean," he added off-hand.

Lucy's eyebrows shot up over the top of her drink mid-sip. After something between a cough and a swallow, she blurted out, sounding flummoxed, "What?"

Wyatt couldn't help but smirk at Lucy, brainiac extraordinaire, not quite catching on. "Not everything's in the Middle East anymore," he reminded her with a chuckle as he reached for his beer again.

"True," she acknowledged, nodding thoughtfully. Then, with a bit of a frown furrowing her brow, she asked curiously, "How'd you become such a language guru? That'll be what, six?"

He shifted a bit in his chair, not quite comfortable with the look of… almost awe that she was eyeing him with. "Seven, with English," he corrected, hoping she'd just drop it.

"That's… crazy," Lucy replied. "I-" she paused to let out an incredulous snort, then continued, "How do you not confuse them all? French, some Latin, and a little bit of Spanish and I'm maxed out, I think."

Wyatt shrugged, evading even any hint of praise out of habit. "Just… don't. I dunno."

She just shook her head at him for a moment, then froze before ticking off on her fingers, "German. English. Russian. Korean. What are the other three?"

"Spanish-"

He'd barely gotten that first word out before Lucy interrupted him with a knowing air. "Right," she nodded. "Texas."

Wyatt felt himself wince, as if to correct her, before he could stop himself. Better just to let her assume, but he had to go and stupidly show his hand. She caught the expression and eyed him curiously.

"Uh… Mexico…" he admitted reluctantly. "I… did some not so legal stuff there when I was a kid."

And just like he knew would happen, Lucy's eyes went wide at what she surely saw as reprehensible. Hell, she couldn't even get a full word out, her lips pursed and frozen in just the "Wh-" of the scandalized What? she'd surely meant to spit out.

"Driving drugs across the border," Wyatt admitted in a low voice, considering that he'd already gone too far in revealing that to Lucy; he didn't need the rest of the customers in the restaurant to know too.

And, just like he figured, she was even more shocked. Eyebrows up higher, jaw dropped lower as she breathed, "Oh my god-"

"Not exactly growing up in the Bay area," he muttered dismissively as he took another sip of his beer.

It took her a second to come up with whatever she was going to say – not that that was a surprise to Wyatt after that reveal. "No, I-" Lucy stammered before finally gathering herself. "How did you end up enlisting then?" she asked, her expression suddenly more solemn and serious. "How did you not… end up in jail or something?"

As if he knew. By rights, he should have been arrested somewhere during one of those runs. "I-"

But Lucy cut him off. Gazing at him intently, she rephrased to ask, "I mean- you're you now. How did you end up-"

It was Wyatt's turn to cut her off. "Not-incarcerated?" he finished for her, playing it off jokingly with a wry smirk.

Except Lucy wasn't going with the 'joking it off' bit. Still regarding with that serious, earnest expression, she corrected him. "-good. Not that you were bad otherwise," she spluttered after a beat, correcting herself. "You know what I mean. You're you."

Wyatt had to fight the instinct to squirm under her gaze. He mostly succeeded, though he did drop his own gaze down to where his thumb traced a random pattern in the condensation on his glass.

Good. Yeah right. She was good. Way too good for him, which is why her saying things like that were so torturous, getting that little flutter going in his stomach, getting his hopes up and sending his mind to places that it shouldn't go when it came to Lucy Preston.

So he steered things back to the actual facts she'd asked about. "No one thing," he mumbled, rolling his eyes dismissively at his own words. "Got a few years older, I guess. Realized I was just gonna end up useless like my dad. Figured since Grandpa had been in the military, I could handle it. Get me out of Texas, do something… important," he finished, shrugging.

That earned him a soft smile from Lucy that did nothing to ease the fluttering in his gut. "I'm glad you did," she replied.

And holy crap, what was he supposed to say to that? The whole of his life for the past few months had had him flip-flopping between being infinitely grateful that he'd met her and wishing that he never had.

When he couldn't come up with a response, and then got too uncomfortable with the gaping chasm of silence between them, Wyatt finally spit out, "…Uh, Arabic and Afghan Farsi."

Which, understandably, left Lucy looking confused. "What?" she frowned.

"The other two," Wyatt clarified sheepishly. "Languages."

"Oh right," she exclaimed, smiling again. "Are you good? Yet? At the new ones? Say something in… Russian," she prompted.

Easy enough. And a bland greeting and pleasantry were nearly on the tip of his tongue when Wyatt found himself taking a deep breath and just taking in the sight of Lucy, there, with him. And, certainly not for the first time – hell, not even for the first time in the last twenty minutes – found himself wishing their circumstances were different. So, after a moment of internal debate and biting at the inside of his cheek, he instead felt an admission come tumbling from his mouth, "Вы мне нравитесь. Это глупо. Мы разные."

Lucy's eyes brightened at his attempt at Russian, and her whole face lit up with a smile. "Sounds good to me. What's it mean?"

At that innocent question, Wyatt was suddenly seized by the fear that somehow – in spite of her just saying that she only knew French, Spanish, and Latin – Lucy could somehow understand what he'd said. Which was ridiculous, but he still spat out the most plausible lie he could come up with. "Ah, nothing," he mumbled. "Just… that I like Russian but it's different. Still pretty basic." He held his breath in anticipation of her somehow calling him out on the lie, but thankfully, she didn't seem fazed.

"Are you taking classes," she asked, after taking a sip of her drink, "or-"

"Duolingo," Wyatt corrected, grateful for the slight change in subject.

Lucy scoffed. "You're kidding."

"Nah," Wyatt chuckled, not entirely surprised that the educator in her would question learning from a stupid little owl app. "It's legit."

But she just nodded, seeming like she was considering it. "I should try that," she said, then adding with a wry eye-roll, "…in all my free time."

"Work?" Wyatt surmised.

A harried sigh was evidence enough, even before Lucy gave an actual verbal confirmation of "Yup."

Which Wyatt had figured; her job had to take a lot of time, even without having to come back from a sabbatical for time traveling. He felt bad for her, but wasn't quite sure where to go with the conversation from there. Until he caught her absently toying with her necklace. "You getting to spend much time with Amy?" he wondered aloud, hoping that work wasn't keeping her from her sister.

To his surprise, Lucy replied with yet another weighty sigh. "Yeah…"

And considering just how well Wyatt knew the degree to which Lucy loved her little sister, that response didn't make any sense. He didn't like that something might not be right between them since getting Amy back. With a frown, he tried to coax out the rest of whatever Lucy wasn't letting on to. "But…?"

Lucy swallowed and shook her head weakly. "It's just… strained. Sometimes," she amended quickly, as if she didn't want to seem like she was complaining.

Wyatt was still worried, and just about to prompt her again when Lucy finally looked up at him and spat out the issue. "She wants to sell the house."

Bewildered, Wyatt echoed, "Your house?"

"Our mom's house," Lucy corrected as she picked absently at the label of her beer bottle. "It's… big," she continued quietly, her gaze focused on the label. "And it's not like either of us has a… family and kids or anything. We were both moved out before; we only came back because Mom was sick. Now… I don't know," she sighed, finally looking up from the bottle. "We don't need that much space, especially if it's just one of us. And it's not going to be both of us unless we just end up the two crazy old cat lady sisters together," she joked weakly, with a tight, forced ghost of a smile.

And Wyatt could understand those points. But he also knew Lucy well enough to know that it wasn't sitting right with her. "But you don't want to sell?"

She finally focused directly on him. "I- I don't know," she stammered. "I mean… No? It's stupid," she scoffed, rolling her eyes at herself. "It's just a house, but… I don't know. Hi, I'm a history nerd," she spat out. "The house is… our history."

He knew she was talking about her history with Amy, their family. He knew it. But it didn't stop Wyatt's stomach from doing a little twisty tug thing at the notion of her, someday, meaning the our to be his with her.

Which was ridiculous, he scolded himself. She was having this issue with her sister; he was just talking it through with her as a friend. And nothing more. So he forced himself to go right along with the conversation. Completely normal. Ignoring his stomach. "And she really wants to sell even though you don't?" he asked, curious. And he was – all else aside, he really was wondering how the sisters could be so opposed on something like that. They were close, right?

"I haven't told her," Lucy shrugged. "I haven't told anybody."

Wyatt frowned again. Lucy spoke her mind. He and Rufus knew that as well as anyone. "Why not just tell her?"

Lucy sighed yet again. "I don't know," she admitted, looking away again. "I mean, she's 27. A young 27. She's not thinking about this stuff. She'd just as soon sell it for the money."

"Couldn't you just keep it yourself?" Wyatt pointed out. "Buy out her half?"

"I- I can't afford that," she admitted, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "It's one thing being in it with it paid off, but… do you have any idea what it would sell for now, thirty-plus years later? Where we live? Even half a mortgage would be… crazy. And I can't just… keep it and Amy gets nothing. And…"

She had a point. Wyatt had never been in the market to buy, not at any point in his life, with all the moving he, and Jess for a while, had done. Base housing. Short-term rentals. But he'd have had to have been living under a rock to not know that San Francisco and the Bay Area were astronomically expensive. Not that he knew what untenured professors made, but yeah, probably not enough for the million-plus that house would be. Shit. Idiot. Why'd he have to suggest she just buy it? Stupid.

At the same time, the faintest flicker of an idea needled him from the back of his mind. His own savings and investment balances, inflated far beyond where they ever should have been by life insurance payouts that he'd felt too guilty to ever touch.

Which was insane. Even as a loan.

So Wyatt quashed that notion as quickly as it had sprung to life, instead latching onto Lucy's dangling 'and' like a lifeline. He coughed to center himself, then inquired of her, "'And' what?"

"Nothing…" She murmured, looking back down at the empty beer bottle still in her hand. "Doesn't matter."

He hated the dejected look on her face, and beyond that, hated that she was clamming up and not talking to him anymore. "Lucy, what?"

She was back to picking at the label on the bottle, and save one nervous darting of her gaze up to his, avoiding looking at him. Eventually, after a moment of doing that lip-biting thing that drove him crazy, she let out a deep breath and muttered, "What am I going to do with a whole house anyway? It's just… me. I don't even have a… fish, never mind a dog or a cat or a… person."

Wyatt's eyes fell closed and he dropped his chin to his chest. He could picture it. Lucy, in that super nice house, with that doctor, or someone just like that doctor, anyway, plus a couple of mini-Dr. Assholes running around. "You'll get it," he forced himself to assure her, his voice strained. "You'll have… someone. And a bunch of super smart kids too, probably. If you want."

Except Lucy snorted aloud at his assertion, finally looking back up with a strangled laugh. "I don't- For that? Makes more sense for Amy to keep it and kick me out. We're… seven years apart," she explained, her sardonic tone fading into something more wistful and melancholy. "Which sometimes doesn't seem like that much, but it makes a huge difference for stuff like that. She's… just getting to that point. She'll find a guy and have the awesome kids." She gave him a helpless shrug and looked away yet again. But not before he thought he could see the faint glisten of the beginnings of tears in her eyes. "I- I… feel like I missed that chance already."

And, god, he hated so much that she thought that, that she somehow wasn't good enough for that kind of life. But what he hated even more was that he was stupid enough to let himself want to be the one to have it with her.

He couldn't stop himself; a plaintive protest was slipping from his lips, "Lu-"

But she stopped him.

Before he could even finish her name, Lucy sat up, straightened her shoulders, gave her head a little shake, and plastered on what Wyatt was sure was a fake smile. "Sorry. I'm being stupid," she said, a little too brightly, and with a sarcastic roll of her eyes. "And emotional. You don't need to hear all that. And you know what," she rambled on, suddenly very matter-of-fact, "everything is up in the air anyway with the whole tenure thing. If I get it, ok, fine, it makes sense to have a house there. What if I don't?" she countered. "Then what? I really have no idea. At that point, it would be better to take half what it would sell for, move to… Idaho…" she shrugged, "and be able to afford way more than I could here."

Wyatt could take a hint. She hadn't wanted to get into all the house stuff. Not with him. So he took the bait and went along with the joke, teasing, "And do what in Idaho?"

Lucy smirked in return. "Become a potato farmer? Live off-grid like the Unabomber or something? Or…" she trailed off, the good-natured grin fading again, "just teach high school. I mean, that's probably what I'll end up doing if I don't get tenure anyway," she finished with a resigned shrug.

He hated the defeated air she'd taken on again, so Wyatt teased once more, hoping to draw out a smile again, "Hey, don't knock potato farming. People eat a lot of fries," he pointed out, gesturing to a table not too far from them, were there was indeed a pile of fries on someone's plate.

It got him a wan smile and a bit of an eyeroll as Lucy went for another sip of her drink. "I'll keep that in mind," she joked.

At that point, Wyatt was grappling with what might be a safe conversational direction; he didn't want to upset her about the house or stress her out over tenure, he didn't want to veer anywhere near anything that might get his feelings for her running any higher than they already were…

Thankfully, he spotted their waiter over Lucy's shoulder, and soon enough, their meals were in front of them. Which at least allowed for the superficial talk about how the food was. For a bit anyway. They managed to keep the theme going a little longer, reminiscing about some particularly odd things they'd eaten along the way during their time travels, plus some tales about international cuisines he'd encountered on his various deployments.

Which wasn't the worst topic they could have landed on. It was safe. Amusing enough, especially after they were both making their way through another drink.

But as it grew darker outside, and as the empty areas of their plates grew larger, so grew the knot of anxiety in Wyatt's stomach.

What next? He'd… walk her back to her hotel? A stroll, just the two of them, in the cool evening through picturesque little La Jolla? He could-

Before he could get to any sort of resolution on how the rest of the night might pan out, a yelp of "Lucy, hey!" came from a few tables away. We didn't know you were in town already!"

And the next thing Wyatt knew, four random – to him – people were next to their table, and Lucy was jumping up to hug them all, exclaiming, "Hi! Hey! Oh my god, it's been forever."

He couldn't deny that seeing that was a bit of a kick in the gut; here he was relishing the half-assed embrace she'd given him when he arrived, as if it might have meant… something. But then she's over there hugging all these random people the exact same way.

Even as Wyatt tried to push those thoughts aside, it was still awkward as all hell, since he had no idea who these people were – aside from the fact that they were probably other history people in town for the… meeting thing – but it wasn't helping that he was suddenly the only one of the six who was seated, so Wyatt pulled himself to his feet, at the ready for polite, but bland, handshakes and pleasantries.

Lucy was still greeting a couple of the group members, but Wyatt could feel the questioning gazes of the two women who'd already gotten their hug from her. They probably knew as well as he did that he did not belong in the mix with them.

Or at least he thought that's why they were giving him the curious side-eye. Until he spotted one of them, as Lucy was still greeting the others in the small group, subtly nudge Lucy's left hand for a better view. And when she saw no ring, was that… a disappointed look she gave him?

They thought that-

Well, suffice it to say, Wyatt's stomach did another one of those twisty flip-flop things as flashes of a kitchen table in Arkansas melded with the phantom visions of Lucy wearing an engagement ring he gave to her.

He was grateful that Lucy inadvertently provided a mental distraction just after that. Whether she'd realized that this one particular acquaintance had mentally gone down that road or not, Lucy, at that point, registered that she'd neglected to make the requisite introductions. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "Wyatt, this is Ellen and Drew – we've just met at conferences like this along the way. And, Sandi and I actually did our undergrad degrees together. And Ryan and I overlapped in Chicago." And then she turned to face him.

Wyatt smirked in spite of himself when she faltered momentarily; how could she explain just how she knew him? Or Rufus, or Jiya, or Agent Christopher, or Connor Mason, for that matter. "Uh," she finally stammered, "this is Master Sergeant Wyatt Logan. He, uh, is stationed here at Pendleton. We, uh- That, uh, project, that I worked on during my leave of absence? We worked on it together. He, uh, specializes in certain aspects of military history."

Credit where credit was due; she could have done worse, he supposed. But it still didn't mean he couldn't have a little fun at her expense.

Reaching out to shake her colleagues' hands, Wyatt nodded politely, and chimed in, "DOD A-bomb tests near Vegas in the 60s, the Alamo, things like that," he supplied with a grin. "Wyatt Logan, nice to meet you."

He managed to keep a straight face when Lucy shot him a subtle, but most definitely incredulous look. "Right," she nodded, sounding less than fully confident as she faced her friends once more. "The Alamo. Wyatt's from Texas originally, so it's a side project for him. That he could help me with," Lucy finished, the explanation definitely coming off a little stilted.

"And, you know, medical treatments used on troops in the French and Indian War," Wyatt piped up again, schooling his face into the picture of innocence.

Which earned him some perplexed looks from the other historians, not to mention what he was sure was meant to be a scowl of warning over her shoulder from Lucy, but it kind of lost the effect since she was clearly stifling a laugh at the same time. He just grinned.

There was a slew of '…should go…', '…bathroom…', '…tomorrow…', and 'Nice to meet you's after that, with Lucy promising to see them all bright and early at the workshop as they headed away, further into the restaurant toward the restrooms.

At which point Lucy whirled around and fixed an incredulous glare on him. "I never should have told you about the mercury," she laughed, shaking her head.

"Hey, I was ok not knowing," he chuckled, sitting back down. "You brought it up."

She flopped down in her own seat, rolling her eyes in mock exasperation. "After you insisted on, like, three more drinks that night after Rufus had already left," she exclaimed.

Wyatt just taunted, good-naturedly, "I didn't hear you complaining at the time."

"Speaking of which," Lucy continued, plucking her current bottle from the tabletop, "this is it," she warned as she waved it at him, then took a drink. "We start at 8, and I have to be down there even earlier since I'm on the committee. So I need to not be hungover."

And that was the last thing Wyatt wanted for her either; she was already clearly anxious about how the week would go, and how it would affect her career. So he took her warning as a sign that, however reluctant he might be to end things, it was time to wrap up and get her back to her hotel.

"Well," he sighed, "if we get the check, you won't be tempted to order another one."

"Me?" she squeaked, laughing. "You were the bad influence that time!"

"Guilty," he admitted, smirking. "But not tonight. You're here for work," he reminded her as he caught their server's eye.

The bill was brought over almost immediately; Wyatt reached for it reflexively, but before he knew what was happening, Lucy had snagged it first.

"This one's on me," she reminded him with a look of warning as she guarded the little folder against her chest.

Wyatt snorted a little laugh, but gestured for her to hand it over. "Come on," he coaxed. "Please?"

But Lucy was steadfast. She shook her head and stated, "You paid last time. I invited you both times. I should have paid both times. This is just catching me up so we're even."

"But-"

"Wyatt," Lucy said plainly. "Thank you for offering. But I'm paying."

Having been in plenty of battles, both physical and otherwise, Wyatt knew when to admit defeat. He slumped back in his chair with a sigh. But as he watched Lucy triumphantly pluck a credit card from her purse, he couldn't help but laugh to himself.

Because really, knowing Lucy, it would probably go this way even if they had been dating, wouldn't it?

Which they weren't, he reminded himself. But still. It made him smile, even as he was a tad miffed at being deprived of that little gesture of taking care of her.

But once the check was brought back, the receipt signed, and the last of the drinks finished off, Wyatt's mind had wandered back to the dangerous place of wishing that they were. Dating.

He was utterly smitten with her - her brain, her wit, her personality… And with a couple drinks in him as he followed her toward the restaurant exit, watching from behind as she gracefully skirted chairs pulling out and trays of food whizzing by, he was unwittingly reminded that he wasn't exactly unaffected by her body either.

All of which was serving to erode the little precariously held willpower he'd been clinging to all night.

The two of them together didn't make sense at all, but suddenly the notion that he might reach for her hand and lead them for a romantic twilight stroll down by the water - and whatever that might lead to - filtered into his mind yet again, and seemed like it made all the sense in the world.

And against his better judgment, that suggestion - or at least the 'walk by the water' aspect of it - was right on the tip of his tongue as he guided Lucy, hand on her lower back, to the sidewalk outside the restaurant.

Which was exactly when a cry of "Lucy!" rang out from a bit down the block.

They both turned to see who'd called out, and Wyatt deflated. The same foursome of historians they'd met inside. Plus another four or five people on top of that, who Wyatt could only assume were more of Lucy's colleagues. Not that it mattered who they all were - they were swarming Lucy regardless, effectively pulling the rug out from under him and his pathetic idea for a half-assed attempt at romance.

Which was better anyway, Wyatt told himself as he lingered on the outskirts of the cluster of historians. Yet again, he'd let his heart and his hormones get the better of him. He had no business suggesting a romantic anything to Lucy.

He wasn't truly listening, but he managed to catch bits and pieces of the flurry of chatter from the group - it sounded like they were all staying at the same hotel as Lucy and just about to head back, so hey, they should all walk together.

And where the prospect of parking at Lucy's hotel had once set off those little butterflies in his stomach, now Wyatt was cursing how that had worked out. Had his car just been on the street somewhere, this would be where he bowed out, bidding Lucy a friendly farewell - and nothing more - while leaving her in the care of her colleagues to get back to her hotel safely.

But no, now he was stuck tagging along with all of her colleagues, the lone outsider who wouldn't have been able to pick Eliot Ness or Benedict Arnold out of a crowd had he not literally met them himself.

Lucy, kind soul that she was, did hang back from the larger crowd to walk alongside him, but even if he'd briefly entertained the notion of reaching for her hand and twining their fingers together, she clearly wasn't on that page; for the entire walk back, her arms were tightly folded across her chest, eliminating the possibility of even an accidental-on-purpose brush of hands here or there.

It did occur to Wyatt that her standoffish posture might just be because she was chilly, but he didn't have a jacket or anything to offer her anyway.

Which was just as well, he reminded himself as the group made its way to the hotel. He and Lucy were just friends, nothing more. She was there for work, that's it. She wasn't interested, and she was too good for a west-Texas good-for-nothing like him anyway.

Once they reached the hotel, Wyatt hung back, lingering off to the side of the main entrance as Lucy bid her colleagues some cursory 'Goodnight's.

And then, as quickly as they'd been swarmed leaving the restaurant, they were back to just the two of them. Lucy turned stiffly to face him, offering a faint shrug. "This is me. Obviously."

He didn't really know what to do with that. But, in spite of everything he'd kept telling himself about just remaining her friend, he couldn't quite bring himself to leave. So gave a nod of acknowledgement, remaining quiet.

At least, he told himself, Lucy hadn't disappeared yet. Like maybe – maybe – she didn't want him to leave either?

Which was absolutely ridiculous, Wyatt chastised himself. She didn't-

He wasn't able to finish that thought. Lucy finally spoke up, seemingly uncomfortable as she shifted on her feet. "Um, thank you," she said softly, "for letting me pay. We're even now," she added, a wry smile gracing her features.

Wyatt sighed, dropping his chin for a moment. He shoved his hands in his pockets, then looked back up at her. "I didn't come just 'cause I paid last time," he stated plainly. "We're allowed to see each other without… owing each other. Or whatever," he added, scratching behind his ear sheepishly, suddenly feeling less confident about his declaration than when he'd started speaking.

He could have sworn he caught a little flush of pink on Lucy's cheeks again as she tucked her hair behind her own ears, starting to say, "Well-"

But before she could get anything else out, he found himself cutting her off, suddenly feeling a renewed sense of courage – or perhaps stupidity – so he seized the moment and managed to splutter out, "I mean, I don't know what this week is like for you – you probably have meeting stuff the whole time. But I'm around if you want to do something again before you leave."

"Oh." She looked surprised. Shit. Wyatt was already kicking himself for even going the tiny bit out on a limb that he had.

But then…

"Uh, sure," Lucy replied, nodding as a small smile began to cross her face. "I- I mean, yeah, I'll probably have to do dinner with conference people most nights. Networking. But we're done on Friday afternoon, and I don't leave until the next day…"

That stupid little flutter in his stomach had him unable to suppress what he was sure was an idiotic grin as he reiterated, "I'm around. If you want."

"Yeah," Lucy replied, grinning right back at him. "That'd be… good," she stammered. "Um, I-"

But she was cut off by a meek-sounding voice behind her. "Lucy?"

Wyatt frowned involuntarily as Lucy whirled around and stepped back, allowing him to see the mousy-looking source of the interruption.

"Taylor," Lucy spat out, her gaze darting between Wyatt and the kid. "Hi."

"Sorry," Taylor apologized, "I didn't want to interrupt, but-"

"It's ok," Lucy deflected. "What's up?"

"I just- I can't get my talk short enough," the poor kid blurted out, looking uncomfortable. "It's still like two minutes too long, and I don't know what to leave out, and-"

Wyatt looked on as Lucy let out a small sigh, even as she shot Taylor a smile and a nod. "Ok," she said, "that's fixable." It was only then that she paused, clearly feeling something along the lines of an explanation or introduction was necessary. "Um, Wyatt," she gestured. "This is Taylor, my student. First conference presentation tomorrow, and it sounds like we have to go make some tweaks." She then nodded at him in a gesture to Taylor – who Wyatt couldn't quite believe was old enough to be in college – adding, "This is Wyatt, my-"

He couldn't help it; she'd just explained his presence away as a colleague to her history friends at the restaurant, but, once again, his breath caught, waiting to hear how she'd explain their relationship this time. He's her… what?

But Lucy just shot him an indecipherable look, then turned back to Taylor and deftly skirted the 'title' issue, stating instead, "We, uh, worked together on my last big project. He lives near here."

Wyatt felt himself – completely unjustifiably – deflate a bit, but he forced a polite smile and reached for a handshake. "Nice to meet you. If she's your professor," he added, nodding at Lucy, "I'm sure your presentation will be great."

"Thanks," Taylor stammered. "Nice to meet you too."

Which left the unlikely trio just standing there in silence. Wyatt knew – he knew – that now was when he should leave, hanging on to a shred of dignity, and let Lucy and her student do their thing. But Lucy had just agreed to see him again, and he wasn't quite ready to leave without confirmation that he hadn't merely imagined that response from her.

He was grateful when Lucy piped up again a moment later, addressing Taylor once more. "Uh, ok. Taylor – are you just working in the lobby?"

"Yeah," Taylor nodded in reply, "a couple of us students are in the corner toward the pool."

"Ok," Lucy acknowledged. "I will… be right in."

"Thank you," Taylor replied, looking relieved before turning to leave. But not before adding, stiltedly, "Sorry, again. Um, nice to meet you."

Wyatt, replied reflexively, "Bye." But then Taylor was gone, leaving him alone with Lucy again and feeling rather sheepish for having just stood around like an idiot instead of letting her deal with her student.

Even more of an idiot when he still didn't do or say anything, leaving Lucy to remind him, pointing in the direction Taylor had gone, "So… gotta go."

"Right," Wyatt acquiesced as he shoved his hands in his pockets. "Duty calls."

Lucy didn't say anything for a second, leaving Wyatt resigned to having to be the one to initiate the inevitable good-byes for the night. He sighed, just about to say something, when Lucy spoke up again.

"But Friday's good," she reiterated, giving him a half shrug. "If you want."

Oh, he wanted. He wanted to see her Friday. He wanted her. "Yeah," he replied, forcing himself to play it casual. "Any preference for where?"

Lucy's brow furrowed adorably as she twisted her mouth while pondering her response. "Um, we're so close to the border… I feel like I should have Mexican while I'm here?" she finally offered up.

Wyatt swallowed hard as his imagination inadvertently detoured into the realization that Mexican could well mean margaritas, or some other tequila-based concoction. Couple that with the knowledge of how… fun and funny… Lucy had been that night after 1754 at the bar after Rufus had bailed…

And the knowledge of just how her alcohol-tinged kiss had tasted back in 1934…

Well, suffice it to say, her suggestion of Mexican didn't get him any less apprehensive about what seeing her on Friday would mean and his ability to keep his feelings at bay.

Not that he'd let that stop him from seeing her. "I know some places," he finally said. "One near here, actually."

"Oh," Lucy replied, a smile breaking out on her face as she began to nod. "Yeah, ok. You can park here again. Meet me in the lobby?" she asked. "Six?"

Wyatt found himself shooting her a dopey smile and nodding right back. "Sounds good."

With a giggle, Lucy gestured reluctantly back toward the lobby behind them. "Ok, I should-"

"Right," Wyatt acquiesced, though he couldn't quite bring himself to make a move toward the valet stand.

But apparently, Lucy wasn't exactly in a hurry to get inside to Taylor either, because damn it all if it didn't happen again. One of those hugs - same as back at Mason, same as in front of her rental car the first time she'd come down here. Suddenly she was in his arms, wrapped around him, his cheek pressed against her hair, and he never fucking wanted to let her go.

But he had to. She had work. And students. And networking and all sorts of stuff that he had no place in.

So he let go and backed up, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Alright," Lucy murmured, stepping away herself. "Um, see you Friday?"

Wyatt watched as she began to back up toward the hotel entrance, nodding after her. But while he started to assure her, "I'll be h-" she cut him off before he could get it all out.

"Oh!" Lucy blurted out. "Parking." She held up a finger, signaling for him to wait while she reached for her back pocket with her other hand. "Do you need this?" she asked, holding up the extra room key. "Again?"

Wyatt froze at the sight of that stupid little folded paper and the card inside. And he couldn't help when his gaze darted up to the tower where guest rooms presumably were. "I don't-" he stammered, almost not trusting how his brain would react to having that thing in his possession all week. But… it would be easier, logistically… And he didn't want to complicate anything for Lucy during her important week… "Maybe?"

"Well, here," Lucy shrugged, closing the distance between them once more to press the little pamphlet and card into his hand. "Easier to just park right away next time then. Ok," she laughed, pulling her hand away. "I'm actually going now," she declared as she began walking backwards away from him. "Drive safe."

Wyatt had to chuckle to himself as he watched her turn and head toward the lobby. "I… will do that," he promised. Leave it to Lucy to sneak in that oh-so endearing safety lesson about driving while his mind was off in the gutter over a simple little key. He felt like an idiot, but found himself stumbling over some attempt at reciprocation, calling after her, "Have a good… conference… meeting thing."

She shot a grin over her shoulder at him.

He watched her until he couldn't make her out through the lobby windows anymore.

God, he was fucked. But not literally. Which was simultaneously both the problem - because god, he wanted her - and the one saving grace he was still clinging to, because it was miserable enough to know he had to get over her as it was, with nothing ever really having happened. If he slipped up and let things get that far, there'd be no hope for him when she inevitably kicked him to the curb and moved on.

He shook his head at himself, scoffing and forcing himself to make his way over to the valet. He handed in his little card, and waited.

Jess had been easy. He liked her, she liked him, they hung around with the same crowd in school, they got together, they stayed together, and then she was gone. The whole thing had been easy. They made sense. And anything before her had been just a couple of kids fooling around. The very, very little that had happened with anyone since Jess had just been fueled by a haze of grief and alcohol.

But Lucy? Hell, how was he supposed to handle that? Handle her? And his stupid, stupid feelings for her? He sure as hell wasn't the absolute genius that she was, but he was smart enough to know that the two of them together made zero sense.

The valet rolled up in his car just then. Wyatt thanked the guy, tipped him, and made to climb into the driver's seat. Though not without casting one last glance up over his shoulder at the hotel's tower of guest rooms. Where Lucy's room was.

He drove away, telling himself all the while that dwelling on her, and her hotel room, was stupid. It was just plain stupid.

But he had her room key. For parking purposes, sure, but there was no ignoring the little flutter his stomach had done when she'd pressed it back into his hand. It didn't help that he knew he had nothing lined up on base on Saturday; if things… escalated… he had no reason not to head up to that room with her on Friday night.

Well, no work-related reason anyway.

He had plenty of other reasons not to. Not the least of which was that she was Lucy, and it was more than likely that anything he was feeling from her end was just her being her amazing self, polite and kindhearted. But not actually interested.

The rest of his drive home - rest of his night, really - found him utterly torn between being hopeful about Friday and telling himself he was being an idiot.

If the hope for Friday and what could happen in Lucy's hotel room happened to win out once he was asleep and dreaming, well, there was nothing he could do about that.

TBC…