For ten years, Nancy had been learning how to kiss Frank Hardy. Months apart meant that she had learned how to kiss other men, as well.

The last time she'd been in another anonymous hotel room, waiting for the sunrise and the end of her assignment, she'd fallen asleep wondering how Ned kissed.

She'd known he was drunk when she watched him negotiate the front stairs, finding the task of walking, keeping himself as dry as possible, and holding a wine bottle all at the same time close to impossible. The cabbie had waited for her to give him another address, but when she watched Ned vanish into his apartment house, she found a cry had risen to her lips, a demand that he come back to her and finish what the night was to have started.

His collar was open, his eyes glazed over from the lateness of the hour and the wine and the despair was almost visible on his face, but his entire expression changed when she said the words, the words that had been on her lips since she'd first heard him say them.

Now her heart was in her throat as he stepped forward, slow, careful, deliberate, closing the space between them in a single stride, and she found her eyes fluttering shut as he silently lowered his face to hers.

He kissed her slow at first, his lips hovering just above hers, the electricity immediate and undeniable, before their mouths met, her chin raised almost defiantly, the coat wet and heavy on her bare shoulders. He slipped one hand up to cup her cheek, their mouths separated with an audible pop as she dropped her chin, and she had just drawn a single swift breath when he was kissing her again.

Her knees went weak.

He tasted like wine and she knew she did, she knew it burned on her tongue and hot in her throat, but she made a soft noise, too close to a moan for comfort, when his tongue touched hers. His fingers slipped down, beneath the damp curtain of her hair, to curl at the nape of her neck, and she reached for him blindly when he didn't deepen the kiss, suddenly afraid that if she didn't touch him, she would just fall to the floor, unable to stand on her own. Her palm slid up his arm to his shoulder, her fingers tight against the muscle as he tilted his head and his mouth found hers again. Her nails rasped against the back of his shirt as she swept them toward the back of his neck, the folded warmth of his collar.

He gasped her name when they pulled apart. His eyes were hazed, his expression soft, but he shook his head and seemed to come to himself, stepping back and gesturing for her to follow him in.

She kept her fingers just barely brushing the crook of his arm as they came inside, teetering on her heels. She shrugged out of her coat and his palm brushed the bare line of her back before he swept it out of her arms. She turned to him, her lips slightly parted, and their gazes met, and the look in his eyes...

He kissed her again and she took a half-step back, startled, and he followed, until the backs of her legs brushed against against the straight back of the couch. She returned his kiss, her hand lifting to brush over his hair, sighing when he pulled back again.

"Nan."

She smiled. "That was even better than I thought it would be," she murmured.

He was studying her mouth, and then she felt his fingertips brush hers. "I'm sorry, did you want to sit down?"

She laughed at the expression in his eyes. "Sure," she said, and as Ned vanished into the half-kitchen, she unfastened her high sandals, wiggling her toes. When he came back he held a glass of water in each hand, and she took hers gratefully.

He flipped on the television set, and Nancy waited a moment, until he turned to gaze at her again, before she took the remote and thumbed the volume down to a whisper.

"You didn't give me a chance to respond to anything you said back there."

Ned looked down at his hands. "I know," he mumbled. "I kind of didn't want to hear whatever you'd say."

Nancy nodded, half to herself. "I think you loved that girl, the one who broke your heart," she said softly. "And when she broke up with you..."

He half-smiled. "It's in the past," he said softly.

She reached over and touched his chin. "No it isn't," she replied, "not if you've let it convince you that you're not good enough, for me or anyone else."

"Yeah, well..." he spread his arms in a sweeping gesture, standing again, his shins brushing the coffee table, the water rippling in her glass. "How can I compete with anything else in your life--"

She stood swiftly and pulled him down to her so quickly that he had no time to protest or resist, and cut him off with her kiss. When she pulled back they held each other's gazes, breathing hard, and he reached for her again, his lips parting, her eyelashes fluttering against his cheek as her mouth opened under his. She heard the scrape of the glass against the coffee table as her calf brushed into it, and when they pulled apart again she gently shoved him back to the couch, her eyes hooded.

"Stop it," she said, gasping in another breath.

He met her eyes, his gaze confused, then leaned forward and rested his palm against the curve of her hip. "This?"

She shook her head, staring past his eyes, then smiled. "You must think Frank hung the moon."

Ned's expression turned slightly darker at that, his fingers curling to her back. "Not really," he muttered.

Nancy sighed and took her seat on the couch again, noting with some amusement that his arm came to rest against her shoulders. "Can you promise me something?"

"Depends on what it is," he said softly.

She leaned in close to him and pressed her lips lightly against his cheek and the corner of his mouth. "Give me a chance," she murmured. "Even if you can't give yourself a chance, give me one. Give us one."

"To do what?" He traced his fingers down her cheek, pressing his lips against the corner of hers. She closed her eyes.

"To prove you wrong," she whispered. "I want to see if this can work, really work, I want to..." She sighed, shivering when his lips brushed her jaw. "I want us to date and go have fun like a normal couple and stumble through everything, and... what I do, it's not who I am. Ned, I'm nothing special."

He laughed, and she shivered again when his breath fell warm on her neck. "Yeah you are."

She took his head in her hands and forced his gaze to meet hers. "Try. For me."

He nodded, leaning forward to kiss her again, and despite herself, it was the wine and the lateness of the hour and oh God, he knew how to kiss, and she melted against him.

"I'll try," he whispered, just before he kissed her again. "As long as you keep... helping... me."

"No argument here," she laughed, and after their kiss she let her forehead rest against his. "Look, Ned..."

"I am."

She opened her eyes and found him staring into hers. "You look..."

"What?"

She pursed her lips, which made him laugh. "Relieved," she said, slowly.

"I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't broken up with him," he admitted. "I think I kind of..."

"Kind of... what?"

"I think I knew that night in the bar..." He brushed her hair away from her forehead, and tracked the path of his hand instead of meeting her eyes. "I think I knew you were my last chance to get this right."

"To get what right?"

A smile flirted with his lips. "A happy life," he said, so faintly she had to lean even closer to hear him, and she obeyed the sudden impulse to duck in and press her lips against his neck, the hard beat of his pulse, and she smiled when she felt it jump in return.

"At least now you're willing to try."