The First Date

He knew nothing about it was a good idea. He'd already been down this path once, dating a co-worker, and as of a week and a half ago, he hadn't been keen on going down it again. He'd already tried to talk himself out of it – more than once to be precise – since he picked up the phone to ask her to dinner with fake nonchalance, reminding himself of Nina, of how easily he'd been entranced by the sway of her hips and the way she stole glances at him from Jack's office during meetings. He reminded himself of how much it hurt to have been played and betrayed, and how it had felt like Michelle was to doing the same when she went behind his back with Jack the other day.

But no matter his fears, she wasn't like Nina, it was easy to see that much. When he sat on the corner of her desk to talk face to face about things he could have picked up the phone for, and she didn't roll her eyes and snap at him in exasperation to get back to work the way Nina always had. When Michelle greeted him at the beginning of every shift with a shy, open smile instead of with Nina's exasperated sighs and orders to get his ass in gear. When he and Michelle reached for the same file, or tried to scoot past each other and ended up having to take a step back because of whatever it was between them making it hard to breathe, where Nina had always sighed and shoved him as far away as possible, as if she was embarrassed to even be within touching distance of him. No, she was nothing like Nina. And that's why he wanted her.

It wasn't the only reason, of course. It was also her eyes, her hair, the ease which she smiled, and the way her clothing framed those fantastic curves. It was also because from the first day he shook her hand he hadn't been able to think of anyone but her. She was gorgeous and intelligent, and he was frankly a little terrified of her. Because she was Michelle, because she was his co-worker, and because he was just enough of a coward to need to keep his distance.

"Hi, Tony, I'm almost ready," she greeted with a bashful smile, which widened when he smiled back. "Come on in."

While she closed the door behind him, his eyes raked across and down her body, trying to figure out what else she could possibly need to be more ready. She looked amazing, and she was just wearing a strappy tank top thing on top and a flow-y skirt thing. After telling him to take a seat, she turned and walked back to what he assumed was her bedroom and he couldn't help but check her out as she moved.

She returned a few seconds later, having added some jewelry to her ensemble, drawing his eyes to the shining necklace just a few inches above where he'd previously been admiring. He flushed when she caught his eye and smirked.

Instead of blurting out the apology he was mentally composing – 'Sorry for staring at your chest, Michelle, but you've got a fantastic rack,' didn't seem quite sincere enough anyway – he remembered the roses he was still gripping behind his back, presenting them to her. He relaxed when her cheeks reddened at his gift and she took the flowers from him, sniffing them delicately.

"You didn't have to do this," she protested quietly, fingering one of the blooms gently. "But thank you."

She stepped closer to him, giving his cheek a gentle peck. A second later her lips left his face, but she didn't back away, instead glancing up at him with those gorgeous brown eyes of hers.

It was silly, really, to be so nervous right now. It was just Michelle. Michelle, who'd blindsided him with the idea that it was definitely not his 'information' that she wanted. Michelle, who'd gotten in his face and told him where he could stick his ego, Michelle, who'd broken down in his arms just seconds before she made his hair stand on end with that kiss. Michelle, who wouldn't let him take the fall for her even when he'd offered. Michelle, who'd been his friend practically since the moment she stepped foot into CTU, steadily ramming through his perfected disaffected routine and slowly making the idea of wanting anyone else into a crazy thought.

"So where are we going for dinner?" she asked softly, still so close he could feel her breath in minty-fresh puffs against his cheek.

That's right, he was picking the restaurant and she was picking the movie. He'd thought about going fancy, but decided at the last minute to tell her it was more casual, somewhere fun where they could eat outside.

"It's a surprise," he teased.

"Okay," she agreed, making no effort to move. "Tony?"

"Mmm?"

She touched his shoulder. "Kiss me," she ordered softly.

He did, leaning forward to cover her mouth with his own. Her lip gloss was sweet, her lips smooth underneath his. One hand landed on her hip and pulled her into his body while the other wrapped around her neck, tangling in the silky curls of her hair and holding her against him. She squeaked in what he hoped was contentment, dropping the flowers onto the couch beside them and circling his back, letting him slide his lips across hers again.

When the kiss ended, he rested his forehead against hers, hands still holding her firmly. He felt her shift and looked down to see her smiling. She was beautiful all the time, but he felt weak when she smiled at him.

"What?"

"I'm glad you're here. I know things got crazy the other day, and I know I haven't given you much reason to trust me, but I wanted to tell you that you can. I want to make sure I prove it to you."

Surprised at her answer, he brushed another kiss across her mouth, finally feeling brave enough to do it. She wasn't Nina, he told himself again. She was Michelle, and he did trust her. He didn't know why, but he did.

"Me too."