He would always be able to recall how she looked the first day they met. She was overconfident, proud of herself and her abilities, ready to make waves and leave her mark. He wouldn't say she was intimidating, but a force to be reckoned with for certain.

She knew that starting a new job would be an adjustment, especially in an office where individual merit seemed to matter so much. But, she would be unable to pinpoint the day when their coordinating efforts stopped being a cacophony and were instead a grand symphony - when the switch flipped, and suddenly they were attached at the hip, a complete set of two.

He learned to appreciate her skills in computation, but it was her skills in other realms that fostered a new sense of respect. From South American politics to fieldwork, she never ceased to amaze. At times, it made him feel painfully inadequate, underqualified in a way. In those moments, she'd be right beside him and in his head, reiterating all that he was capable of.

She knew the exact date that yet another switch flipped between the two of them, and the implications afterwards. The best conversation to ever occur to her personally at that point in her life wouldn't happen through verbal communication. Instead, it'd be handwritten confessions passed over casework, a year or so after the incident with the mistletoe.

His moment that prompted more was different than hers, a year earlier, with cloudier intentions. It may have been a bribe at the time, a way to get him into a pointy hat and embarrassingly tight pants, but it signaled more to come. Unexpected kisses in the middle of your shared workplace have a way of doing so.

She noticed their dynamic change as their years together passed, going from casual work friends to the kind of people that would meet after their ten hour shift together ended simply to soak up the company. It epitomized a slow burn, with both parties on the edges of their seats, waiting for the perfect moment to make the next move.

He knew that they were bound to cross a line, pass a point of no return where everything afterwards would be different. They'd toed the line on several occasions, and spent what felt like (and were) years sitting on top of it. It wasn't until he explained her lipstick as jam that he finally had to accept that the line had been passed for miles.

She definitely found being pinned between him and the ground an interesting experience, given the explosions and gunfire and stress that came with the events they inadvertently worked to create. Regardless, she kissed back, and never regretted a moment of it, even after hearing a camera shutter beyond her field of vision.

He let her dictate what happened afterwards. Stolen minutes and near-kisses in the company of colleagues wasn't either of their original plans, but a step to be taken nonetheless.

She wanted more, for their days at the office to be different somehow, to make the changes in their lives real. So, they continued their complicated dance, stepping around each other and sometimes daring to go a half-step closer, until small steps grew larger, leading to shared beds and the degree of change she'd been looking for.

He looked over at her, sleeping peacefully, wrapped in his blue comforter and comic-printed sheets, convention makeup still creased around her eyes. That dawn would come to his mind often, and would never cease to make him smile.

Together, they realized they'd never be alone, and that someone would always be in their corner, regardless of what the world threw at them.