DISCLAIMER: not mine, please don't sue.

a/n #1: SSLE, Nat, Geiroidin, Hollystream, aprilf00l, Anon, Do, and Rachel: you guys are beyond fantastic. I'm actually running out of ways to tell you just how much you rock my little corner of this universe. Thank you for making me feel so much less awkward and nervous about posting this fic. I love you all.

a/n #2: I know the pace is not exactly neck-breaking but I'm a sucker for those little character moments that lead up to the big ones, so I'm afraid I'll have to torture you (and our couple) for a little while longer. But we are getting there. ;)

a/n #3: we are only a handful of chapters in but I'm thrilled to announce that this fic has already spawned a fanmix. If you need some fitting background noise while you read, check it out: roominthecastle[DOT]tumblr[DOT]com/post/12045210069/egnf-mix

~ DICK ~

"Could you get that?" she asks and he obediently rises to his feet.

"Sure."

He walks to the door, opens it, and finds the younger man from the coffee shop standing there. Eli's blank stare meets a happy face but that merriness rapidly transitions into bewilderment. "I-I'm sorry," the unexpected guest says, then smiles again, trying to mask his confusion. "I must have the wrong apartment."

"You must have," Eli agrees and shuts the door in his face. It feels good but he knows the feeling is most likely temporary. This guy won't just walk away. He could sympathize with that but he doesn't want to. Instead, he savors the last remaining moments of peace. Soon the knocking resumes, as expected. Eli opens the door again, looking completely unapologetic. It's still the same guy but this time he looks even more bewildered – and a tinge agitated. The two stare at each other in silence for a while, then Eli gets bored.

"Can I help you?" he asks slightly irritated, eyebrows raised.

"Is… is Natalie here?"

Eli takes his time with the answer, eyeing the younger man as if deciding whether he is worthy of a reply or not. He's feeling generous today. "Yes."

There's a long moment of silence.

"I'd like to speak with her," the other man says at last and leans to the side so he can peek behind Eli. If he is waiting to get invited in, he's waiting in vain.

Eli tilts his head, considering his request. He doesn't like it. He doesn't like this guy, either. "Why?"

"Why? I…" He snorts, laughs, still baffled, then his voice trails off. He's losing his patience. "I'm sorry, who are you?" There's a hint of anger in his tone and his mild, all-smiles façade begins to crumble.

Eli is about to answer when they hear Natalie's voice from inside: "Who is it?"

Her increasingly aggravated friend opens his mouth to answer but Eli beats him to it. "A person who wants to speak with you."

"I'll be there in a minute."

Eli turns back to convey the message. "She needs a minute."

"Yes," the other man says in a clipped tone. "I heard." He's no longer smiling.

They resume staring at each other in silence. The younger man's expression suddenly changes as a realization arrives. "You're that guy from the coffee shop, right?"

Eli ignores his question. "And you are…?"

"Richard Thomas." He extends a hand. Eli gives it a look before shaking it somewhat reluctantly. Something occurs to him.

"Any relation to Frank Michael Thomas?" he asks with furrowed brows.

"He's my father." Eli nods, taking in the information. "You know him?"

"I know of him. … So are you and Natalie work friends then?"

"Um… yes. Sort of. She didn't…?"

"She didn't what?"

"She didn't mention me?"

Eli shakes his head.

"Oh…well…" It's clearly not the answer he expected. Now he looks at Eli – really looks at him –, studying and sizing him up. "I like your t-shirt."

Eli smiles. "I like your purse," he says, gesturing with his head at the smallish bag in Richard's hand.

"It's not mine."

Eli raises his hands. "No judgment."

Richard clearly has more to say on the subject but Natalie emerges from the apartment, interrupting them. "Hey," she greets him. "What are you doing here?" It is a surprise but not exactly the pleasant kind.

"I…" Richard starts but trails off when he feels eyes on him. Both he and Natalie turn to look at Eli who still stands at the door with them, observing silently and intently. He gazes back at them without the slightest intention of moving. Natalie hands him his stain-free shirt.

"Here you go," she says, her tone and body language informing him that he's no longer needed in the doorway. Richard agrees with his dismissal and is quick to make it official.

"It was nice meeting you," he tells him with a supercilious smile.

"Likewise, Dick." Quite satisfied with himself, Eli turns and walks inside with a little grin on his face. He knows he's being really childish but it feels so good. He slowly makes his way toward the bathroom, straining his ears.

"I know you said you'd call," Richard says and presents her with the purse, "but you left your phone."

She takes her purse from him. She is genuinely grateful. "Thanks. You didn't have to… I mean, you could have left it at the office."

"I know. But I wanted to make sure everything was okay."

"Well, everything is."

"I see you found your friend."

"I did."

Apparently she isn't in a talkative mood either.

"He seems a little…" Rude. Adverse. Territorial. Older than you. "Tense."

A nod. "Yeah," she says but doesn't elaborate further. She doesn't invite him in, either. He looks at her. Something has changed. Something has shifted but not in his favor. He can feel it. She stands right in front of him but there's a certain distance between them now that wasn't there an hour ago. It wasn't there until that other guy stumbled out of the coffee house and – somehow – into their lives.

"All right. I'm going then. See you back at the office," he says with a weak smile that masks irritation and a growing concern.

"I'll be there." He nods and leaves. Things have definitely changed and he doesn't like it. Not one bit.

She slowly closes the door, turns and leans against it, trying to sort things out – neatly label them, put them in separate little boxes –, but it isn't working. The labels come off and the boxes rip open. But then a voice cuts through the turmoil in her head. His voice. It's muffled at first but getting closer, clearer. He emerges from the bathroom. He's wearing his shirt now but he isn't talking to her. He's on the phone with someone.

"No!" he yells suddenly, then lowers his voice as he notices her. "I don't care. Make something up." He halts, listening to whoever it is on the other end, and she watches him. He looks different in work mode. He is different. For one, he's louder. Much more confident. Aggressive, even. Nothing like the man who sat by the kitchen counter only a few minutes ago. "Yes. I'm aware of that. And I still don't care," he says and looks around the apartment. She scrapes herself off the door to get what he's looking for. Soon she reappears with his tie in her hand.

"No, no, no. Don't." Another pause. He listens and she steps closer. His eyebrows ask a question and her hands answer by slipping his tie around his neck. Her eyes are on the tie and his are on her. The other person's voice snaps him out of his trance. "What?" he asks a bit confused. "No, I'm listening." At least he tries. This warm and sweet-scented closeness is really very distracting. He lifts up his left arm to check his watch, briefly enwrapping her in an almost half-hug. "Yes, I'll be there on time. Don't worry. … Yes. … I'm in good hands," he says. She glances up and he smiles at her. "Okay. Yeah. See you there." He pockets the phone as she continues tying his tie. He watches the process with great interest. "So…" he says but doesn't continue.

"So…?" she asks, prompting.

"Nanny. Day trader. Translator. Professional stain-remover. Is there anything else I should know about?"

"Is there anything else you want to know about?"

He smiles. Oh yes. So many things. He doesn't even know where to start. The smile fades. Actually, he does know where to start.

"Who's Richard?"

She doesn't look up. "My boss' son. But you already know that."

"No, I mean, who is he… to you?" It's none of his business, really, and he is sort of afraid of the answer, but the strategist in him demands a clear picture of the board before making a move.

"A friend," she answers. She wanted honesty. It should be a two-way street.

He raises eyebrows at that. "A friend?"

"Yes. Someone I have fun with."

"Fun? As in… what? Playing charades? Scrabble? … Skydiving?"

"Fun as in nothing serious."

He mulls this over. "Is he aware of his 'not serious' status?"

"Well, we didn't sign a contract or anything but I think he is, yes."

He isn't entirely convinced but drops the subject as he remembers something.

"What happened to the ventriloquist guy?" He rakes his brain for a name. "Andrew?"

Her hands stop for a moment and she fixes him with a stare. "Andre. And he is a contortionist," she corrects him, then her attention switches back to the tie. "He is no longer in the picture."

"I see." He hesitates. "His circus schedule wasn't flexible enough?"

"Well, let's just say he didn't exactly bend over backwards for me," she says and looks up at him.

They manage to keep a straight face for a few more seconds, then both burst out laughing. Nothing brings two people together like cracking bad jokes at an absent third party. He really should thank Andre someday. It's the second time the contortionist proved to be a great tension breaker.

She completes the tying, adjusts his collar, and gives the tie a little tug. "There. Good as new."

"Thank you."

He smiles gratefully and she smiles back. His face will hurt tomorrow from all the smiling but he can't seem to stop when she's around. Marissa was right. Natalie makes him happy.

"You're welcome."

He lifts his jacket from a chair near the radiator and shrugs it on, then grabs his briefcase and overcoat. There is nothing else left but saying goodbye – something both are reluctant to do. They walk to the front door and she opens it for him.

"How long are you staying?" she asks and he turns back, happy to delay his inevitable departure.

"I don't know yet. If things go well today, then… maybe a week."

"And if they don't?"

"Then I leave tonight."

She nods and they look at each other, neither wanting to move. She seems to be on the brink of some decision and he waits patiently for her to make it. She finally plucks up the courage and leans forward, planting a small kiss on his cheek. His eyes close as her lips touch his skin. Their softness lingers a bit longer than warranted but then again, it isn't a simple peck on the cheek. It's a cautious but maddeningly sensual gesture. The sensation is magnified by the fact that it's been a while since he let anyone so close. He turns his head slightly as she moves hers away. Noses brush. Breaths mingle. Thoughts scramble. Then a relatively safe distance is regained but this charged moment of mutual attraction keeps hanging on between them. If he didn't have to go…

But he does. He knows it. She knows it.

"Good luck," she says, looking slightly flushed but in control. For now, they don't push things further. She is still hesitant and doesn't quite trust him yet, and he is running pretty low on self-confidence as far as relationships are concerned. Vanessa made sure of that.

"I'll do my best," he promises. "It was really great seeing you again."

"You too."

He nods, smiling. "Well… I better get going," he says but doesn't move. Suddenly his phone goes off, mercilessly reminding him of his responsibilities. He checks it. "Taxi's here."

"You should hurry, then. They won't wait around forever."

"Right," he says. "Thank you, again… for the damage control."

She smiles. He turns and starts walking away.

"Eli."

He eagerly spins around and she walks up to him.

"Take this," she says, handing him an umbrella.

He accepts it, then looks back up at her. "Um, thank you. I'll… I'll get it back to you."

She regards him quietly, then bites her lip again. She has another outburst of bravery. "I kinda need it tomorrow so if you could bring it back today, that would be great."

"O-kay," he says.

This is probably the lamest cover for a date ever but neither of them seems to care.

"Say around 7?"

A violent mixture of happiness and terror floods every cell of his body. It really is a date.

"7… is great. Yes. 7. Okay." He stops talking before the rambling gets any worse.

"All right then." She smiles and it calms him down somewhat. "See you at 7."

"7 it is." He really should stop saying "7." He needs to slow down his mind so his mouth can pick up more than just fragments.

She gives him an amused once-over. "Bye."

He watches her walk back to her apartment, not quite believing what just happened.

But he isn't the only one watching.