Disclaimer: I don't own the situations or characters portrayed herein. I'm just playing with them for a while.


No Thanks for the Memory

He bounded up the stairs, hoping he could catch her in the Q Bureau before he had to immerse himself in work for the morning. At least he would see her at lunch. There was a little restaurant that he'd been wanting to try. It didn't hurt that it was on the opposite side of town from the agency and no one they knew would be likely to see them. He wondered what kind of food they sold.

He opened the door and saw her leaning over his computer. She straightened up when he came in.

"Hi," she greeted him, sounding delighted to see him. He hadn't anticipated the littlest things being the things that brought him the most joy, but here they were.

"Hi," he answered.

"I was just leaving you a note," she said, and he caught the hesitance in her voice. "I've got to cancel lunch again."

He couldn't keep the disappointment hidden. "Again?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry. It's work."

He sighed heavily. "That is the third time this week."

Ever since she'd been offered the full-time job, her duties had interfered more and more with their time together. Sometimes he wondered if that wasn't Dr. Smyth's idea of punishing them for the whole Stemwinder debacle.

"Oh, I know," she said, running her hand along his lapel. "I wish I didn't have to but Beaman called. He wants me to check out that possible bogus passport the Finns called about. The man's in the hospital."

She was clearly incredibly excited at this new bit of responsibility that came with her new position, and he could feel his disappointment ebbing away in the face of her triumph. It didn't hurt that she had been running both hands over his lapels, finishing by wrapping her arms around him and holding him very close.

"It's my first Class C interrogation," she added.

He smiled. "Hmm. A Class C interrogation is a soft interrogation," he said, almost murmuring. "Lots of hand holding, sweet talking. Maybe we could make up for lost time by practicing on me."

She laughed a little and tilted her face back to kiss him soundly, except their noses collided before their lips met and all they actually did was make a kissing sound.

She started laughing. "I don't think you need any practice."

He laughed a little too, glad she was here, glad she was with him, but feeling empty all the same. "Amanda, I don't see you enough."

Her voice rose a little, with that same self-justifying note he heard so often when she spoke to Dotty about all the times she ran off to work.

"I'm sorry, but it's work. Now you know, when we're at work, we have to behave like we're at work."

He knew that. He'd been the one to tell her so. She pulled back and looked him in the eye. "Somebody could walk in the door any minute."

"How very, very practical of you! Except when we are not at work, we are not together enough to suit me."

He couldn't quite keep the annoyance at bay, and he could see the confusion registering in her eyes as he scolded her. Suddenly he remembered that most of her experience with romance had been with Joe King, who had disappeared to Estoccia or who knew where else, and didn't even bother to spend time with her when he was home.

His annoyance evaporated and he got to the point as quickly as possible to wipe that strange expression off her face.

"How about dinner tomorrow night at my place?"

Her face broke into a grin. "You don't have any food at your place."

He smiled. "Exactly."

All his life, he'd heard most of the married men around him complaining about their wives' inexplicable jealousy when they stayed late at work or missed a family dinner. He'd even used that excuse to try to get out of dinner with his uncle over a year ago: his "girlfriend" troubles and her jealousy of their time together.

He could definitely understand the wives' perspective.


With Zhmed safe and Tolst arrested, they could finally have their date night at his place. He'd gone all out, buying champagne and fresh ingredients for his famous frittata. He would do none of that gourmet supermarket nonsense that Sonja had done with him.

Amanda was lying on his sofa as he cooked. She'd offered to help, but she looked dead on her feet and he insisted on her resting.

"Oh, I really wish you hadn't gone to all this trouble," he heard her call. "I think I'm too tired to appreciate it."

He told her all about the frittata, about the old chef he'd met who told him the trick of making the garlic the best he'd ever eaten.

He was so happy to have her in his apartment that he couldn't seem to shut up. He seemed to have taken on Amanda's knack for rambling.

At last everything was ready, so he popped the cork on the champagne and brought it into the living room where she was.

"Amanda, think of this as a celebration for Zhmed being accepted into the defectors' relocation program. And I can only speak for myself when I say that we are long overdue for some celebrating around here." He poured the champagne, expertly leading up to where he had been trying to go, this entire time.

"Especially the type that includes only the two of us, hmm? So with that thought in mind, some romantic candlelight, a little bubbly, and a little romance."

He was on his knee in front of Amanda, holding the glasses in front of him, before he realized that she was sound asleep.

How long had she been out? Poor little thing. She needed her rest.

He set the glasses on the coffee table and scoffed a little. They would never catch a break; something always interfered.

He would go and turn off the frittata. He'd put everything in the fridge and save it for later. But he had something to do first.

He leaned in, finishing his sentence differently in a whisper. "A very little romance."

This time he was able to kiss her softly without bumping her nose.

She opened her eyes sleepily and smiled at him, humming a little in the back of her throat. He had never seen anything more beautiful.

She reached out, took his arm, and pulled him back towards her.

"I may be sleepy, but I'm not dead."

He laughed, and kissed her again, before pulling back, just looking at her. Maybe he wouldn't have to put everything in the fridge.