Dinner for two
Nate isn't good at romance. He used to be, when he was younger and suave and knew just the right thing to say when, instead of the wrong thing to say at the right time. Lately, he's better at brooding and drinking, and he's trying to get better at this light hearted, spur of the moment thing with Sophie. Except, it's getting less spur of the moment, and she's started saying things like, “There's a restaurant opening downtown, we should go.”
It's the kind of comment she would make to any one of them, but it's accompanied with a look that tells him this isn't just a dinner between friends that ends in sex. It tells him there's weight to the suggestion, that she wants him to wear a jacket and tie, and she wants to wear a dress.
It tells him she wants it planned, which isn't such a big deal, in and of itself. If there's one thing Nate's good at doing, it's planning. He can plan a take down of a corrupt CEO from the first step into the building to the time Detective Banano enters the room (and sometimes after).
But, that's not a dinner reservation with Sophie Devereaux.
In every equation there is a variable, something unknown and unpredictable. That's Sophie. Nate doesn't know how to plan something for Sophie, he plans around her and with her, but never for her.
First, he has to figure out with restaurant she's referring to. It wouldn't be the end of the world if they went elsewhere, but Nate knows well enough by now that if she's mentioned something, even off hand, there's something more to it. He's fairly sure that all she wants out of this is something more substantial than a quick meal and a retreat up the stairs, but he doesn't want to risk being wrong about it.
He asks Hardison to find it, and ignores the knowing looks that are turned his way.
Restaurant name in hand, he tries to make a reservation, and ends up recruiting Parker to infiltrate and steal him one. She comes back in her tried and true waiter attire and gives him the thumbs up.
Mission's a go.
When Sophie meets him downstairs at McRory's, she's wearing the textbook definition of 'little black dress.' Nate offers her his arm, and her smile damn near knocks him off his feet. Maybe he's better at romance than he'd thought.
The restaurant is packed, and Nate has half a mind to call Eliot to clear the way, but Sophie does that thing she does, and parts the crowd with ease (Nate finds himself thinking of Moses at the most inopportune moments). They finally reach their table, and Sophie reaches across the surface and takes his hand, expression gentle and hopefully genuine. “Thank you, Nate.”
“Hmm?” He lifts his eyebrows like he has no idea that what he's put together tonight means anything. “Oh, yeah. It was nothing.” He doesn't mention the teams involvement, or that his mind had been racing with this since she'd dropped her suggestion two days ago. “You look amazing, Soph.”
Her response is derailed by the waiter, and Nate finds himself letting out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. His palms are sweating and he can't believe he's nervous. It's like he's sixteen again and after this, they're supposed to go to prom.
If he didn't know better, he'd think Sophie is feeling the same way. She's practically hiding behind her menu.
“Sophie.”
The menu rustles, but doesn't come down.
“Sophie, what are we doing?”
It drops to the table, exposing Sophie's perplexed expression. “I'm sorry?”
“What are we doing? We haven't even ordered yet and this feels like the worst first date in history.”
“Is it?”
“What?”
“A date.”
Nate fixes her with an, 'are you kidding me?' look. “Sophie. We're in a restaurant on its grand opening. I'm wearing a tie. You're wearing that. You're lucky I didn't buy you a damn corsage.”
She laughs, finally, and Nate feels the tension ease. Their conversation turns to other things, topics normal for them and bizarre for others. They relive their past across Europe, and linger on their perspectives from Damascus. Nate tells her, finally, that if he hadn't been married then, he'd have started all of this much sooner.
All things considered, the date goes very well.
It ends even better.
It's the kind of comment she would make to any one of them, but it's accompanied with a look that tells him this isn't just a dinner between friends that ends in sex. It tells him there's weight to the suggestion, that she wants him to wear a jacket and tie, and she wants to wear a dress.
It tells him she wants it planned, which isn't such a big deal, in and of itself. If there's one thing Nate's good at doing, it's planning. He can plan a take down of a corrupt CEO from the first step into the building to the time Detective Banano enters the room (and sometimes after).
But, that's not a dinner reservation with Sophie Devereaux.
In every equation there is a variable, something unknown and unpredictable. That's Sophie. Nate doesn't know how to plan something for Sophie, he plans around her and with her, but never for her.
First, he has to figure out with restaurant she's referring to. It wouldn't be the end of the world if they went elsewhere, but Nate knows well enough by now that if she's mentioned something, even off hand, there's something more to it. He's fairly sure that all she wants out of this is something more substantial than a quick meal and a retreat up the stairs, but he doesn't want to risk being wrong about it.
He asks Hardison to find it, and ignores the knowing looks that are turned his way.
Restaurant name in hand, he tries to make a reservation, and ends up recruiting Parker to infiltrate and steal him one. She comes back in her tried and true waiter attire and gives him the thumbs up.
Mission's a go.
When Sophie meets him downstairs at McRory's, she's wearing the textbook definition of 'little black dress.' Nate offers her his arm, and her smile damn near knocks him off his feet. Maybe he's better at romance than he'd thought.
The restaurant is packed, and Nate has half a mind to call Eliot to clear the way, but Sophie does that thing she does, and parts the crowd with ease (Nate finds himself thinking of Moses at the most inopportune moments). They finally reach their table, and Sophie reaches across the surface and takes his hand, expression gentle and hopefully genuine. “Thank you, Nate.”
“Hmm?” He lifts his eyebrows like he has no idea that what he's put together tonight means anything. “Oh, yeah. It was nothing.” He doesn't mention the teams involvement, or that his mind had been racing with this since she'd dropped her suggestion two days ago. “You look amazing, Soph.”
Her response is derailed by the waiter, and Nate finds himself letting out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. His palms are sweating and he can't believe he's nervous. It's like he's sixteen again and after this, they're supposed to go to prom.
If he didn't know better, he'd think Sophie is feeling the same way. She's practically hiding behind her menu.
“Sophie.”
The menu rustles, but doesn't come down.
“Sophie, what are we doing?”
It drops to the table, exposing Sophie's perplexed expression. “I'm sorry?”
“What are we doing? We haven't even ordered yet and this feels like the worst first date in history.”
“Is it?”
“What?”
“A date.”
Nate fixes her with an, 'are you kidding me?' look. “Sophie. We're in a restaurant on its grand opening. I'm wearing a tie. You're wearing that. You're lucky I didn't buy you a damn corsage.”
She laughs, finally, and Nate feels the tension ease. Their conversation turns to other things, topics normal for them and bizarre for others. They relive their past across Europe, and linger on their perspectives from Damascus. Nate tells her, finally, that if he hadn't been married then, he'd have started all of this much sooner.
All things considered, the date goes very well.
It ends even better.