Florence was mid thought – specifically, mid if you had told me at any point prior to the past month that I would be on a date consisting of going to someone's house to watch the new made for TV Super Fun Guy movie, I would have said you had more than one screw loose - when she realized that honestly, that was a complete thought after the first twenty words.

But here she was, on a date, and on a date that consisted of going to Sylvester's house to watch the new made for TV Super Fun Guy movie. She wasn't unfamiliar with Super Fun Guy, not even prior to meeting Team Scorpion, but it certainly had fallen more in the General Knowledge category of her brain. She had never really lost herself in anything fiction, but she wasn't opposed to it. It just had never happened.

She wondered if that was because so much of fandom involved being social with people, and even via messages, even when people shared a common interest with her, she had never been good at being social. The only people she had regular contact with before Scorpion was a few casual friends who she met up with at chemistry events, and she was probably stretching the definition of 'regular contact'.

Sylvester stopped in front of a door near the end of the hallway and unlocked it. "Well, this is mi casa," he said, gesturing with an arm.

"Very nice," she said, her eyes scanning the apartment. It was small, an efficient layout, and impeccable. There were posters and framed comic books on the wall, some of which appeared to be signed. She would have expected nothing less from him than exactly this. The entire aesthetic was so very Sylvester that she immediately felt comfortable, even though she'd never been in his apartment before.

"Where's your television?" She asked.

"Oh, it's in the other room," he replied, dropping his keys onto a hook by the door. "I used to have these moments of paranoia where I thought a sniper was going to get me through these living room windows so I moved my TV into my bedroom, that way I could sort of hunker down and commit to watching something with a less terrifying window layout." He frowned. "I have medication for that now. I don't just walk around thinking every window is a prime opportunity for some assassin. You think I'm crazy, don't you?"

"No," Florence said. "Anxiety is unpredictable. That's the only predictable thing about it, really. Fears don't have to be logical, in fact they usually aren't. That makes situations when they are all the more terrifying though. You spend the majority of your life reminding yourself that this is nothing, that is nothing, and then when something actually is something…it's like everything you'd been reassuring yourself about becomes a lie."

Sylvester was looking at her curiously, and she shrugged, feeling her cheeks getting pink. "I've had some…brushes with anxiety myself. It manifests much differently than yours. Mine is irritability, or a sudden need to exercise to burn the feeling off."

He raised his eyebrows. "That explains our first meeting with you, maybe."

"Oh no. You guys were being loud and inconsiderate and I stand by my reaction. Although sometimes anxiety does make your tolerance levels for things lower. Sensory overload, almost."

He nodded rapidly, a small smile on his face. "I'm not, I mean…" he frowned again. "I'm not happy you have to deal with it. I just…it's rare to find someone who understands and can articulate it well. Maybe it's just because I have the same reactions sometimes, but I know exactly what you mean."

Florence beamed.

"Well, uh," he said, making another gesture to the door ahead of them on the right. "Movie starts in a few."

Sylvester's bedroom was very similarly decorated – comic books that appeared to be limited edition, a few items that looked like movie props, a whiteboard with math that even someone with Florence's IQ couldn't even begin to try to work out. There was a picture frame on the desk by his bed. Once her eyes landed on it, she found herself unable to look away. She couldn't eve remember seeing a photograph of Walter's sister, Sylvester's wife, but she knew, even without context clues, that that was the woman looking back at her. Florence already knew that Megan had been beautiful, strong, and proud, but somehow that all came through in the photograph, even though the setting appeared to be rather soft. Florence felt a pang in her heart, both out of sympathy for Sylvester and an odd wish that she could have known this woman, been her friend, perhaps learned from her.

Sylvester came up next to her, and Florence could sense by the heavy silence that he had noticed where she was looking. When she finally took her eyes away from the frame, she glanced up at her boyfriend, watching him as he reached over, picking up the photo and looking down at it with his lower lip curled under.

"Megan." Florence stated the obvious in an attempt to break a silence she suddenly felt very uncomfortable with.

Sylvester nodded. He reached out with his free hand and gently touched a finger to the photograph, right on her cheek. "Man, she was something."

Florence reached out, placing a hand on his back and resting her head against his upper arm. Sylvester looked at the photo another moment, a long moment, and then set the frame back down.

"I can go," Florence said softly.

He looked down at her, sliding an arm around her waist. "No," he said. "Not unless you want to."

"No, I don't want to," she said quickly. "I want to see this movie you've been going on about for the last week."

"Oh I've been going on about it much longer than that," he said with a playful smirk, "I just saved the chatter for Toby and Paige because I didn't want to chase you away."

He climbed onto the bed and grabbed the remote, clicking the TV on before settling back against the pillows. Florence joined him, sitting more upright against the headboard and crossing her ankles.

Sylvester glanced at her. "You comfy? I may have another pillow somewhere."

"Nah, I'm good. Sitting like this is good for my back."

He nodded understandingly. "Skeletal health is very important. Ohhhhhh," He slapped her arm lightly in excitement, "it's starting!"

The movie itself – despite coming into existence within a cult fandom – was surprisingly easy to follow. At first, Florence's only confusion stemmed from Sylvester's elbow periodically bumping her, but she soon realized she needed to remember what was being said or done at the time he nudged her, because he utilized commercial breaks to explain backstory, behind the scenes anecdotes, and predictions. Surprisingly – or perhaps not – most of his predictions were right. "Look at that," she said, when Zany Zoe kissed Super Fun Guy on the lips and said a quiet just for luck before he took off after the enemy. "You had that down."

"The producers had teased a Star Wars reference relating to those two, and the kiss was in one of the commercials. Sans dialogue, but we figured that was what it would be."

"We, as in your forum friends or Toby and Paige?"

"Forum friends, though Toby and Paige have definitely heard my theories."

Florence smiled. About halfway through the movie she had shifted so she was leaning against the pillows, much like he was, and the reclined position and added comfort made her realize how tired she was. She knew she ought to get up, walk around, wash her face, or at least sit back against the headboard to fight sleep, but she was just. so. tired.

Sylvester hadn't realized Florence had fallen asleep until he woke up to sunlight sneaking through his drapes and realized that he too had drifted off, probably shortly after the movie ended, as he swore he remembered the closing scene and he did not fall asleep to Super Fun Guy. But the movies usually had a lengthy credits sequence, during which parts of the score were played, and that had done him in more than once.

He checked his phone. It was mid – morning.

Florence was definitely still out, in the exact same position he remembered her in the last time he had looked over. Not quite propped up on the pillows, not quite fully laying down, one leg extended and the other bent slightly at the knee, hands resting on her stomach. Her hair was only slightly mussed in the back, and the look on her face was peaceful.

It was strange, waking up next to someone, waking up next to someone who wasn't Megan, waking up next to someone somewhere that wasn't a hospital.

He usually still did wake up next to Megan – the photograph of her on his nightstand. But Florence was between him and the nightstand.

He shrugged off a slight jolt of guilt. Florence wasn't coming between him and her. She had been gone for years. She would want him to be happy. And she – Florence, that is – had stayed despite clearly noticing his emotional reaction to her looking at Megan's picture. He'd found a great deal of comfort and reassurance…and even some relief? in her touch, and he knew a good portion of that relief was knowing that he was being comforted, quietly, by someone who wanted him to be okay.

Toby had talked about a therapist for all his unresolved issues with Garret Miller. Sylvester knew having an objective third party helped some people immensely. But he also knew it wasn't for him. He healed best when around people who cared about him for reasons other than the fact that they were getting paid.

He shifted his weight, and Florence's eyes flew open, leading him to wonder if she had actually been asleep. Then she stretched and yawned, grunting quietly before sitting up and looking over at him. "Sorry. I know this wasn't meant to be a sleepover."

"No need to apologize," he said. "Even if I hadn't fallen asleep too, I wouldn't have wanted you going back home by yourself when you were that tired."

"I liked the movie," she said. "I'll have to maybe get into Super Fun Guy some. Maybe," she emphasized, holding up a hand when his face lit up.

"I'll take maybe," he said with a grin.

She grinned back. "I usually don't fall asleep in beds I'm unfamiliar with," she said. "I spent some time in the Air Stream after our…well, after that case with Tad, and I ended up sleeping well there but only because I just could not get my mind to stop racing and eventually it was like I overloaded and shut down."

"You must have been really tired, then."

"That," she said, "and…" she blushed a little. "And I guess I just feel comfortable here. This whole apartment is just so you, and I know you, so it was like a familiar place even thought it wasn't. If that makes any kind of sense."

"It does." He smiled, scooting over closer to her and kissing her cheek. She turned her head, putting her lips on his, and he suddenly wondered if he had bad breath. She didn't seem to think so, because she kept kissing him, lifting a hand to place it on his chest. He trailed his up and down her back, his fingertips brushing lightly along her sweater.

"I need to go," Florence murmured, resting her forehead against his.

"Yeah. We're both late as heck."

"Eh. We would have known by now if there was a case. How many times have Happy and Toby been late?"

"I prefer not to think about them being late. Then I have to stop myself from wondering what sort of historically inaccurate roleplay they're into nowadays."

She blinked, then started laughing. "I think it's sad that that sentence doesn't even sound weird to me any more."

"You're late," Paige noted when Sylvester walked into the garage. She was sitting at Walter's desk, looking through some paperwork.

"Yeah," he said. "Florence spent the night."

Paige smiled. "Atta boy."

He stopped and gave her a look. "No. We watched the movie and fell asleep."

"Was it nice, though?"

"I just said it wasn't like that."

Paige shook her head. "I know, I mean was all of that nice? The movie, spending time with her in that setting, stuff like that."

He nodded. "Yeah, that was."

"Good." Paige nodded. "It's nice to be able to have that with someone, isn't it? I remember the first night I spent here…"

"That was…like…different. Though."

"Oh, I mean we definitely slept together," Paige said. "But I mean, it was similar in that we got to be alone together for an extended period of time. It was nice to just have that affirmation that we mutually trusted the other enough to be vulnerable. In more than one way, obviously, but feeling safe enough to sleep with someone next to you is closeness that doesn't get enough appreciation."

Sylvester considered that, remembering the way he'd felt waking up next to her. "I know what you mean." He cocked his head. "I feel like that isn't talked about a lot. Like Happy and Toby, they love each other about as much as anyone can, but Toby's commentary is always about how hot she is, and how often they're doing it. There's nothing wrong with that, obviously…"

"Sometimes it's actually easier to talk about sex than other levels of closeness," Paige said. "It's more lighthearted, I suppose? Like with me and Walter. Our first night together…it was worth every second of the three years we were building toward it. The sex part…it was really, really good." Her cheeks flushed. "But there was also just that closeness. The kissing. The skin to skin. Holding each other and knowing that we were just loving each other with every move we made and everything we said. We were both pretty pent up and we made sure that part was fully taken care of, but there was so much more to it. We talked, mostly sappy stuff that I don't know if he will ever get me to actually repeat. We held hands. I fell asleep on his side of the bed. I'm sure you've noticed Walter always refers to sex in the same way. We've been intimate or our intimacy, etcetera. And he makes good on the use of that word."

She had never told him any of this before. Sylvester could see what she meant by how some things were just hard to talk about, even if they were pure and strong.

"It seems you and Florence are learning to not fixate on milestones," Paige said. "You're both just worried about making sure you're doing things right. And it sounds like you are. Not that you asked me, of course."

Sylvester smiled. "Thank you, Paige. For…all of that. I imagine it must have been hard for you to share with me."

"Well," Paige said, dropping her voice. "I think Walter could hear me. So I was telling him, too. I don't think I ever quite said those things out loud before. Communicating isn't always a breeze for me, even though that's a large part of my job."

"Happy to be your cover story," he said with a wink. "Is there fruit in the fridge?"

"I think so."

Sylvester walked off. Almost as if he was cued in, Walter appeared. "Hey."

Paige smiled at him. "Hey."

"So," he said, putting his hands in his pockets as he crossed the room. "I, uh, I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with Sylvester."

She gave a short laugh. "I was partly wondering if you would."

He came to a stop at the edge of the desk. "I don't think I realize how hard words can be for you, too."

"I think," she said, "words can be hard for all of us, depending on circumstances."

"Well," he said, nodding slowly, "I've never said anything like that to you. About our first night. But I feel the exact same way. I don't think I'd ever realized just how connected I could feel to someone, despite already knowing how much I love you."

Paige stood up, a small smile appearing. "I'm glad to hear that it meant the same things to you. I mean, I thought…I knew it did. But hearing it is really nice."

He pulled her into his arms. "You know how much I struggle with emotions," he said, resting a hand against the back of her head. "But you make it easy."

"Easier, right?" She asked, a hint of playfulness in her voice. "It's not even easy for me. Don't leave me behind here."

He chuckled. "I don't know that it will ever be easy for me, I suppose. But yes. Definitely easier."