Mike jerked awake and immediately wished he hadn't.

A sledgehammer pounded away at his brain and his entire body felt like it had been hit with said sledgehammer for hours on end. He cracked his eyes open and the hammer just hit harder. He heard a moan escape from his mouth which didn't help matters either. He was pretty sure he was hungover. Or someone had drugged him. But he went with the hangover because he could vaguely remember a dinner then a bar then a club then maybe another bar, but it might have been memories of the first bar. And drinks, lots of drinks.

Oh, and snow for some reason.

He groaned again, stretched out his arms and legs, then reconsidered the whole "being drugged" theory. The left side of his body was pressed up against something soft and cushy while there was just empty air to his right. He poked at whatever he was lying on and decided the surface was too rough to be a bed and tried to open his eyes again. It hurt this time too.

Something soft, soothing, and cool covered his forehead and the pounding in his head quieted, not completely, but enough that he moaned in relief. It might have been his hungover imagination, but he would have sworn that he heard someone giggling above him.

"Relax," a voice whispered into his ear. "Everything's gonna be alright."

Even if the giggling might have been imagined, he knew those words were real. More importantly, he believed them which let him relax and drift off back into sleep.

He woke up again.

This time with only a toy hammer of a headache and a body that didn't feel like it had just crossed the finishing line of an Ironman triathlon. His hands felt around and came up with the same surroundings as before, so he knew he hadn't dreamt up that little scene. As a bonus, his headache didn't get worse when he opened his eyes.

What he saw made him reconsider that whole being drugged theory again because someone had kidnapped him and stuck him on the couch in the living room found in some modern decorating magazine. And not some post-modern one with warm colors and thickly cushioned furniture, but one of black and white with silver accents and everything squared away like someone's vision of what the future should look like.

"Good morning sleepyhead," he heard from behind him. "Well, good afternoon."

Mike swung his feet to the ground, sat up, and rubbed his face. Looking over, he found Quinn curled up under a blanket with a book in her hand on the loveseat next to the couch.

"Wha—" He rubbed his face again, harder this time to try and get some more blood flowing to his brain. "Afternoon?"

"Yup." She nodded then lifted her arms above her head as she stretched. "Apparently, if you drink too much you sleep like the dead."

"I don't remember how much I drank last night," he said with his head buried in his hands.

"The bar we were at was passing out free bottles of champagne just before midnight. Granted, it was really cheap stuff."

"I kinda remember holding a bottle of something…" He groaned then went on, "That's the last time I do New Year's Eve with an empty stomach."

Quinn laughed.

"What? Did I do something embarrassing?"

"Mmm… you could say that."

He lifted his head and said, "What'd I do?"

"It was more like something you said."

He narrowed his eyes. "What'd I say?"

"You asked me if I had any Chinese in me and when I said, 'No,' you asked if I would like some."

His mouth flopped open then retracted so he could say, "I did not say that."

She laughed then said, "You did."

"I'm sorry. I sounded like an asshole from a frat."

"It's okay," she said with a smile. "The champagne hit you pretty hard. And I had plenty of experience with said assholes from frats."

As she stretched again, he looked around then said, "Where are we?"

"We're at my place."

"That makes complete sense," he said before he buried his face in his hands again and wondered what the hell had possessed him to make him think it would be a good idea to spend the night at Quinn's? Oh, that's right. That awful, awful champagne.

"How'd I get here?"

"I tried dropping you off first, but you were pretty insistent that I didn't walk back alone. So after you finished your manly duty of escorting me an entire block, you pretty much passed out on my sofa."

Wonderful. He wondered how many more times he had made an ass out of himself last night, but figuring he couldn't do anything about the past, he resolved to get out of her place as fast as he could before his foggy brain could do something else moronic.

"Lemmie use the bathroom and I'll get outta here," he said as he whipped the blanket off and stood up, too fast for Quinn's "Wait!" to have any effect. He froze because all he had on were his boxers and an undershirt. Not even during his drunkest nights at Stanford did he strip out of his clothes, so this was a new experience for him.

"I, um, figured you'd be more comfortable sleeping without your pants or shirt," he heard her say.

"Oh, uh, yea. Thanks." He wiped his hands on his boxers out of the need to do something with his hands. "So about that bathroom."

"Right behind you."

He thanked her and made his was there as quickly as he could. After draining his bladder, he splashed some water on his face and groaned into his hands again. While Quinn didn't seem bothered by this whole thing it couldn't have done good things for their still tenuous friendship. He needed to get out of here before this idiotic brain of his screwed things up again.

"Lemmie put my clothes on and I'll get outta here," he said as he returned to the living room.

"That's probably not a good idea."

He really wished Quinn would stop saying vague things like that. "Huh?"

"Look out the balcony doors."

He did that and saw snow. Lots and lots of snow. At least that part of his memory hadn't let him down.

"Huh."

A thick blanket of snow covered everything he could see and the only thing moving outside the window were the snowflakes falling from the sky. He hadn't seen this much snow since that one storm back when he was a kid in Lima.

"Yea, we got 20 inches overnight and it's still going."

"Huh."

Quinn's reflection made its way next to his and her body heat made him tingle as it contrasted with the cold air trying to make its way through the doors in front of him.

"The city's shut down, probably for a few days."

"Huh," was all he could get out even as he panicked on the inside. Being a drunken ass to Quinn was one thing. Being stuck in her apartment for who knew how long was another, much more awful, yet exciting, thing.

"Here," she said as she held up something, "I grabbed these off your bed when I figured you'd need them."

It took him a second to register that she was holding the shirt and pair of pajamas pants he slept in and usually tossed on his bed in the morning.

"Huh."

She hit him with his own clothes then said, "You know, it's going to be pretty boring if that's all you're going to say."

"Huh? Oh sorry," he said as he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose for a few seconds. "I'm having a hard time processing all of this."

"What's there to process? Put on your clothes." She handed him the clothing before walking away. "I'm going to make breakfast. Well, late lunch now."

As he put on the pajama pants, his eyes were drawn to something that he couldn't look away from. Whoever had designed those sweatpants with school names screen-printed across the ass was a genius in Mike's mind, especially now that the word "YALE" was slowly making its way to the kitchen. She must have bought the pair of pants during college because he could see the parts of the name of her school had washed away and the waistband fraying, exposing the elastic underneath.

Of course, all of that took a back seat to the gentle curves and swaying underneath that word which reinforced the fact that Quinn was still one of the hottest women he knew. And the less said about the light blue camisole which was a little too short and exposing a ring of skin the better.

"Waffles okay?" she asked, pulling him away from his appreciation.

"Yea."

"Good, because I was gonna make them even if you said no."

"Thanks for the illusion of choice." She shot a shit-eating grin back at him which vanished when he said, "You didn't happen to swipe my toothbrush did you?"

"That…would've been smart. But, I should have some a spare or two in the medicine cabinet."

He plodded back to the bathroom and rooted around her medicine cabinet, trying to not look at the more personal items as he searched for a toothbrush. After ridding his mouth of the feel and taste of whatever had crawled in there to die, he walked up beside Quinn who was standing over a cast iron skillet sautéing some sausage patties.

"I didn't know if you wanted bacon or sausage, so I'm making both."

"Perfect," he said as he poked at the waffle iron on the countertop.

"Stop that. And I can't believe you've stayed skinny all these years with the way you eat."

"It's the dancing, but mostly the Chinese genes."

She groaned and said, "I hate you."

For the lack of anything else to do, he stood there rocking side to side as he watched her cook, stepping aside as needed. Although that wasn't required too much since most of the cooking to be done was watching, what with the bacon being in the oven, sausage in the pan, and waffle in the iron.

The first waffle finished just about the same time as the first batches of bacon and sausage. Mike tried to help as Quinn tried to do three things at once, but she shooed away and completed the plating quickly and efficiently. That was when he saw her uncover a huge bowl of waffle batter.

"Hungry much?"

"I don't get to use this very much since I can't figure out a batter recipe for one."

"You could always have me over more often?"

As soon as that left his mouth, he thought it was the wrong thing to say, but she just laughed and said, "Tired of me coming over all the time?"

"Yea, you're eating me out of house and home."

"Go sit," she said with a mock glare.

"Yes, ma'am."

It had been a long time since someone had made him a home-cooked meal with no effort on his part so he gladly took a seat on the couch again. The fact that it was Quinn cooking made him stupidly happy. Yes, she had cooked dozens upon dozens of meals at his place, but he had helped with each and every one of them. This one felt different because it was the first time they were having breakfast together. Emotions were illogical like that. That glow vanished as he went back to looking around the apartment.

A bookshelf and a TV too small for the room were front and center with a random smattering of photographs on shelves and tables. He wondered why there were so few personal things lying around Then again, she might just have been the type of person who needed to put everything away as evidenced by the cleaning of his place months back, but it still seemed pretty crazy at how little she showed of herself even in her own home.

It still surprised him how nerdy Quinn was as he flipped through the book she had been reading. Stranger in a Strange Land was a book he would never be bored with and, from the dog-eared pages in her copy and underlined passages, she might have felt the same way.

"Do you grok the book?" Quinn asked as she brought over two plates of food, one containing much more than the other, and two glasses of orange juice.

"I don't think anyone can," he said while taking a plate and glass.

She grinned and said, "Good point."

That led them into a discussion about Heinlein's sci-fi classic. He could tell she had thought about the themes in the book since her analysis was so detailed, mirroring the papers she wrote at work. He could also tell she hadn't had the chance to discuss the book with anyone else with the way she kept talking about it, also mirroring what she did at work.

Eventually though their conversation slowed, but before he could take the first bite of what looked to be delicious waffles, his phone rang and he sighed looking at the caller ID.

"Hi mom," he said while giving Quinn a look to which she replied with a grin.

"I saw the news. Are you okay?"

"Yes mom. It's just a little snow. Nothing to worry about."

"Do you have enough food and water?"

"Yes mom. I have enough food and water."

"Are you sure? There's no telling how long you'll be snowed in."

"Yes, I'm sure."

By now, Quinn was failing to fight back her laughter which his mom must have heard since she asked, "Is there someone with you?"

"Uh, yea some people came by last night and one of them couldn't get out before the snow got bad," he said because it was easier than telling the truth.

That lie broke the dam holding back Quinn's laughter. He shot a glare at her which just made her laugh harder and louder.

"Is that a woman's laughter? Am I finally going to get a grandkid?"

He sighed, got up, and walked away because it was going to be one of those conversations. Every so often, his mom just had to tell him that she wasn't getting any younger and she wanted to have grandkids to dote on. To which he always replied that he wanted to have grandkids so she could dote on them but things just hadn't worked out yet. This time was no different.

When he finally got off the phone, he went back to his cold breakfast and a grinning Quinn.

"Grandkids huh?"

"Yea," he said, "she brings it up like clockwork."

Quinn laughed then said, "You must get annoyed."

"Sometimes she'll bring it up in like a dozen conversations in a row and I wish she'd stop talking to me," he said after he finally got a few bites of food down his throat.

Amazingly, he continued to stick his foot in his mouth when it came to things he should have remembered about Quinn. However, she remained unbothered with his bouts of stupidity even as he stumbled his way through an apology.

"Stop apologizing. I know you were just joking and there's nothing less sexy than a guy bumbling through an apology that wasn't needed."

Properly chastised, he nodded and went to shovel another bite of food in his mouth when he froze, slowly turned to look at her, and said, "You think I'm sexy?"

The flush that crept up along her neck and face remained in his dreams and memories for a long time.

XXX

Mike's favorite part of spring was Opening Day. Every year it represented a chance start over with a clean slate, to begin anew, and all those wonderful romantic notions. The past stayed in the past. Or at least that's what Chicago Cubs' fans told themselves every year. Of course, he was in the same boat as them since his favorite team was the Cleveland Indians who always seemed to be mired in varying degrees mediocrity.

The Washington Nationals weren't his favorite team but they still played baseball on Opening Day so he weaseled his way out of work to go see them. Heather dropped everything when she heard what he was doing and, with a little cajoling, Quinn came along too. The food and drink at the park was a little expensive but that was the norm and a few bucks wouldn't stop him from enjoying the spring air, Cracker Jacks, peanuts, and beer. Or the company around him.

Heather had no idea of what was happening on the field in front of her. She seemed happy just to be screaming along with the rest of the crowd behind the home team dugout when she wasn't eating, drinking, or asking Mike a billion questions about the sport. It didn't surprise him that Quinn knew baseball since she seemed to know about pretty much everything. What did surprise him was how into the game she was and how much she liked the Nationals, which made sense since she'd been in DC for so long.

"I'm gonna go grab a drink. You guys want anything?" Heather asked just at the seventh inning stretch began.

Quinn and Mike both declined so Heather left with some new friends she had made in their short time at the game.

"That girl can get anyone to like her," Mike said as he watched her head up the stairs.

"Yea. She's an amazing woman."

Turning his head to look at the mascot dancing on top of the dugout, he said, "I'm surprised more guys don't throw themselves at her."

He wondered why anyone would want to put on that hot and sweaty eagle costume because he imagined the pay couldn't have been that much. Then again, whoever was in there was getting paid to dance, something he couldn't do.

"She talks about you a lot, you know?"

"Who does?" he asked, not really paying attention because the dancing eagle was strangely hypnotizing.

"Heather."

"Huh."

Quinn groaned beside him then said, "Don't start that again."

"What? I've barely used that since New Year's."

"Whatever."

"Plus, I don't really have anything to say." He held up his box of snacks. "Cracker Jack?"

She shook her head and his arm returned to its original position next to hers on the armrest they shared. That armrest had turned out to be Mike's favorite thing today, making him feel like a nervous teenager on his first date as their arms constantly brushed up against and rested along the others. It happened again and he happily watched the eagle dance to crappy top 40 pop songs before she said something else.

"You two should go out."

"Huh?"

"You two should go out," she said again as she pulled her arm away from his and hugged her chest.

"No."

He slowly turned his head to look at her while she whipped hers towards him.

"What?" he asked.

"I think you two would be great for each other."

"Nah," he said with a shake of his head. "She's too…wild for me. Plus, she told me she doesn't like me like that. Just loves bugging me."

"You asked her out?"

"What?" he asked, giving her a confused look for a second. "Oh, no. She said that outta nowhere during some conversation we were having."

A conversation about how he should be going out with Quinn, but that was something he'd keep to himself.

"But haven't you thought of her that way? I mean she's beautiful, intelligent, funny, outgoing—"

"Yea, she's all that and a bag of chips," he said, annoyed and wondering why Quinn telling him this. "But she's not my type."

"Oh," she said, looking down at their arms.

"I'm pretty sure I figured out what my type was after all my adventures in LA." She looked back up at that statement and he stared right at her as he said, "Maybe it's because Tina was my first serious girlfriend, but I like quieter women who can talk when they need to, who like the things I like, and who I can make laugh because I love making the people I like laugh."

"Oh," she said so softly he could barely hear her.

He got the urge to cup her cheek and started to give into that feeling when Heather dropped into the seat next to him and said, "So, what I miss?"

The moment broken, Quinn quickly looked away from him and he slowly faced forward again as he said, "Nothing much, just a dancing bird."

XXX

Quinn left one day and it was all his fucking fault. Okay, so she didn't literally leave, but that's what it felt like.

After their little moment at the baseball game, he decided to try his luck again. Only this time he would actually ask her out instead of kissing her without warning. Deciding that the timing couldn't get any better, he asked her out as she got ready to leave his place after one of their movie nights. It had been a good night and they had decided to watch an old school comedy instead of something from their usual genre of sci-fi/fantasy.

They were both still feeling the aftereffects of the movie as they laughed their way through what little cleaning up they had to do and as she got ready to leave. Those feelings vanished when he asked her out and he knew he had fucked up as soon as the joy fell off her face as they stood in front of his open door.

She declined his invitation and softly apologized as she walked out the door.

After a bit of reflection, he decided that this was a good thing. It didn't do him any good to pine after someone who didn't return the feeling and Quinn had told him in more ways than one that she didn't feel the same way about him. The only thing that stopped him from throwing away the entire relationship was that their friendship meant something to her, and to him. Things might get awkward but they would smooth out like before and, when they did, he'd pull away a little.

She beat him to the punch and then some.

XXX

"Why are you and Quinn fighting this time?"

He looked up at Heather from his drink and said, "We're not fighting."

"They you two should be nominated for acting awards for the performance you're giving."

"Very funny," he said after taking a drink. "But we're not fighting. We're just…not really talking."

Heather leaned in and asked, "Did you kiss her again?"

"No. I asked her out."

She frowned then sat back in her seat before saying, "I would have bet anything that she liked you. Sorry for pushing you towards her."

"No, it's okay," he said as he shook his head, "I wouldn't have done anything if I didn't like her."

She frowned again before smiling then saying, "Okay, on to happier things. What's the job offer I hear you got?"

"What? How'd you find out about it?"

A dramatic sigh passed through her lips before she said, "It always hurts me when you think I don't find out about anything and everything."

"That guy from HR?" he asked with a grin.

"Duh." She took a drink. "So spill."

"It's just a temp assignment to setup a policy division in New York."

"Sounds like a load of responsibility."

"Yea, the first person they offered it to turned it down."

"Hmm…wonder who that was."

"Don't know everything I see."

"Shut up," she said with a grin. "Are you gonna take it?"

"Don't know," he said with a shrug. "I'd have to uproot my life for at least half a year, though it's not like I have much of a life."

"Well, just so you know if you do take the offer, I'll miss you."

"Well, I'll miss you bugging me while I'm trying to work."

"No you won't," she said with a laugh.

Their waitress walked by to remind them that happy hour was almost over and, since their glasses were almost empty, they ordered their last half-priced drinks of the day.

"So, what'd you think of Quinn's boyfriend?" Heather asked as Mike finished his last mouthful of Yuengling which he almost spat back out.

After he finally got the last of his beer down, he asked, "What new boyfriend?"

"She hasn't told you?"

"We haven't really been talking."

Heather pursed her lips and fell silent, not something he was used to.

"How long have they been going out?"

Again, Heather did something he wasn't used to and squirmed in her seat before she answered his question that he didn't really want to know the answer to.

"Almost a month now."

This bit of news made sense since Quinn had stopped coming over for movie nights about a month ago. Not that he was counting the days or anything.

It also made his decision much easier.

XXX

Another weekly status meeting finished, the trio of policy analysts walked back to their respective work areas. Even when Quinn had been coming over to his place and eating lunch with him regularly, she still put her work above all else when they were at the office, so Heather and Mike were usually left talking to each other. It just got worse now that Quinn wasn't really talking with him, so it surprised him when she touched his arm and asked to speak with him in her office.

"You're taking the job?" Quinn asked after he closed the door.

"Yea, probably," he said, unsurprised that Quinn knew since her network was almost as good as Heather's. She just didn't use it very often. "Just working out some of the final details."

"This…this isn't because of me is it?"

Of course it was about her, but there wasn't any way he could say that as he stared at her. So, he lied.

"No, it's a great opportunity. I couldn't pass it up."

"Oh." Her head dropped for a moment. "I'm happy for you."

"Thanks, but it's nothing special. Go to New York for a few months, boss some people around, then come back." And if he was lucky, he'd be over her.

"I guess we should hang out as much as we can before you go," she said after a few seconds of awkward silence.

"Yea, we should."

They never did.