"If it so happens that you end up dragging me somewhere for lunch, I would prefer that no one knew," Moira told him, placing herself on the couch she had stuffed in the corner of the back room. "I don't need to hear anymore accusations." Gabriel, being very conscious of not sitting too close to her and very conscious of not spilling his tea, seated himself on the green sofa. "What kind of accusations?" he asked.

"Nothing you haven't heard before, I'm sure. I'm 'manipulating' you, and you're being forced against your will into these agreements. Not to mention Commander Morrison's trust in Blackwatch has become questionable. If he happens to learn of a private arrangement between us, it's safe to assume he'll conclude the worst."

"That we're conspiring against him or some shit?"

"Unfortunately, that is in the realm of possibilities." She took a small sip of her tea before setting it on the ground. "I'm tired of hearing him bitch."

God, that was adorable.

He loved to hear her cuss; it was so damn special.

"Yeah, well, you're not the only one," he chuckled. "And, uh, just to be clear, this isn't like a..."

"I know," the Doctor stated before Gabe could get his last word out. "This wouldn't be the first time I've gone to lunch with a coworker, no need to worry."

"Right. Nice, nice."

Christ, he wanted this to happen so bad.

But he didn't want it to be professional.

No, he didn't want it to be professional; he wanted to see her laugh and smile and enjoy herself, and they could speak about nonsense and joke and take time to get to know one another better.

Like a date.

He wanted to take her out on a fucking date, and that was the truth. That's why he suggested this in the first place, right? Of course, it was never blatantly stated that the two of them would find someplace to eat, but it could have easily been implied. That was the reason Moira spoke of his suggestion the way she did now: he was implying that they would head out for lunch.

This is why he scolded himself as that question crossed his lips. Deep down, he knew the reason behind his actions, he simply lacked the balls to admit anything to himself.

But why was he coming to terms with all of this now?

Gabriel has denied emotions and the true motives for months, and now, suddenly, he's had a much easier time coming to terms with himself; why was that? What could have possibly changed the way he handled certain feelings and thoughts so abruptly?

He absentmindedly took a swig of his tea, blinked, and nonchalantly locked eyes with a very attractive, very curious-looking Moira O'Deorain.

"I haven't seen your eyes become grey before now," she commented.

"They went a dark blue once," was his reply. She nodded slowly, seemingly continuing to contemplate something.

"What were you thinking of?"

You.

Deciding against answering truthfully,-he was not doing that-Gabe responded with, "Just some nice places to eat around here."

The woman picked up her mug. "Do you like Japanese?"

"Yeah."

"There is a Japanese restaurant a little ways from here. I couldn't tell you the name if it were to save my life, but it suffices."

"I might know what you're talking about."

She brought her cup to her pink lips. "That settles that, then. You're welcome."

After yet another sip of watermelon tea and a playful scoff from himself, she continued with, "I would still love to tell you what terrible progress you're making. That way, my closet wouldn't be an issue of mine."

"Is it really that bad?"

"See for yourself on your way out. I'll let you be the judge of that."

Another sip.

"I'm not one to put off tasks, but the thought of organizing and cleaning that closet is horrific."

"So you make me do it?"

"Yes, of course," she smirked.

"It'd get done a lot faster if we both worked on it."

"That would nullify the deal we made, and that isn't too fun."

She laughed as he rolled his eyes.

"How about I help you clean out that fucking closet, then we head to this place you're talking about?" Gabriel suggested. "It's a win-win."

"I don't attest to that."

"So deal null and void?"

"Only for this one instance. I do agree that four hands are better than two."

So she wanted to go.

"Alright, just this once," he concluded.

If she was suggesting places to eat, that meant she wanted to go, right? He wasn't "dragging" her anywhere; she said that just to be an asshole.

But then again, she considers this to be nothing more than lunch with a coworker.

That meant she expected a professional environment, and her main reason for agreeing to this would be that they could have the opportunity to speak of private matters free of any possible distractions.

She said something about four arms being better than two, too, he thought. Moira wasn't particularly excited about their arrangement; hell, she didn't even say that she wanted to go, only that her chores would be completed quicker if she had him to help. In a sense, he was dragging her, if Gabe was going by that logic.

And that wasn't right. He didn't want to force her to do anything.

If Gabriel were forcing her, that meant she didn't view the situation as he did, that she didn't...that she didn't feel the same way.

Wouldn't she be rooting for this to happen as much as he was if she shared emotions similar to his?

Oh my God, stop. Stop, he told himself. Thinking too hard about this.

It's true, he was overthinking things. He had to relax and look forward to their outing, not contemplate it as much as he was.

"Do you want more?" Moira's voice snapped him back to planet Earth, and her question caused him to glance into his mug, which was now empty. Only then did the faint memories of him taking swig after swig come flooding back. "No, I'm alright," he told her. "I'll get sick if I drink too much." The redhead nodded.

"Would you like to see the closet?"

"I would love to see your closet," he laughed. Moira hauled herself to her feet. "Try not to get scared. It's quite terrifying."