Friday night. Date night. Both of them had avoided the subject the rest of the week, speaking merely as effective work colleagues, though they each found themselves looking at the other more often. Marie wasn't sure whether the aim was to admire the view or catch the other looking- which she did a few times. She decided to change into a dress at the end of the day. It was a date, after all. But given the awkward nature of the agreement she didn't want to appear to be trying too hard to impress so it wasn't particularly daring- a pretty circle dress, not too big or ostentatious, and she left her hair as it had been throughout the day. Booker must have had the same thoughts, changing shirts and dressing in a more relaxed manner, giving the impression of cool nonchalance. Like the date was the most natural thing in the world.

It wasn't. If it had just been a treat for all her hard work they could have enjoyed it as colleagues. If they'd just gone out to kick back they'd have had great fun as friends. If they'd been posing as a couple while on a surveillance job, the act would have been more convincing than the real thing. All the levels of their relationship made it difficult to try and court. They knew a lot about each other already and nothing had really happened between them to get them to this point. It was an arrangement because word got out that one of them had a crush, like school kids. Despite Booker's comment back in the office, he seemed as unsure how to proceed through this date as Marie. They pushed through the dinner as acquaintances and drank through the show.

Booker walked her home and as tradition dictated stopped for a chat at her door. "Don't suppose it's looking good for the same time next week," he said in a defeated tone.

Marie smiled and cringed all at once. At least the drinks had cheered her up now, and she giggled at the absurdity of their behaviour. Despite her urge to side with her earlier self who wanted to forget she had ever said anything, she really didn't want to write off the idea. They'd had one awkward evening, but the cocktails swimming through her system urged her to go nuclear before giving up. Grabbing Booker's jacket before he turned to leave she spoke before the laughter wore off. "Date, schmate. Why don't we find out if this works, properly?"

"What do you mean?" He had to be playing dumb. He was a smart guy and was stepping closer, surely he'd figured it out.

"I mean we haven't even acted like a couple so no wonder it was a total fake out." She didn't care if he thought she was easy. He was no goody-two-shoes. She took his other lapel and pulled him closer. "We barely even tried..." Darn, he was too tall, he'd have to cooperate for her to reach.

He held her shoulders, annoyingly keeping them separate. "Marie, maybe you were right. Forget we said anything. After that disaster, don't force it."

She shot him a determined look. "Why not? We can't date, not us. It's not our style. How many worse scrapes have we come out of? Forget the stupid date, we should have just... 'worked it out' in your office. I've certainly thought about that..." She was waiting in too much anticipation to smirk.

The subtle change in the way he was looking at her appeared again. "Well, ain't you full of surprises, miss?"

How's this for a surprise? She pulled hard on his lapels and raised herself up on her tiptoes to kiss the son of a bitch. It took him a second to respond, so when his hands moved up to her neck she worried he would pull her away. But instead they entwined divinely in her hair, their warmth enveloping most of her head making her feel the opposite now, that he would not let her back away. Their kiss became more fervent, the soft wetness of his lips and tongue contrasting with the rough grazing of his stubble on her skin. She stepped back and pulled him with her, thudding into the door. The sensation of being pinned between the wood and his body flipped the switch they'd been looking for all night and the notion of giving up on the idea vanished just as quickly as they did into Marie's house.

Elizabeth sat in the DeWitt offices once more. Marie hadn't been short with her lately, which was a pleasant change, but however hard she tried to shield herself from the knowledge she couldn't help but notice the many stolen glances now present between Booker and the girl.

Really, Booker, your secretary? How cliché.