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Despite almost a decade of practice, Lucy didn't start seeing Matt to cause her old man pain.
"Really? 'Cause, from where I'm sitting here with this knife in my back, it feels a hell of a lot like—"
"Daaaaad."
An exasperated noise came over the phone. "I told him not you."
Lucy grimaced. "So that's why he almost had a heart attack the first time I called, hm?"
"Jesus, I only threatened him a little," he chuckled. Then, "Wait. Wait a second, here. You called? Lucy."
"Matt's a good person, dad."
That didn't shut him down long. "Less good for every soon-to-be-broken finger he puts on my—"
"He's a good man." She wasn't ever in the mood to listen to the bear growl. "You know that. You said that."
Seconds ticked by. "Baby," he finally sighed, "your mom could explain—in great detail, I'm sure—how much that doesn't matter."
"Yeah, then I'll remind her that we're not either of you."
**
She had called Matt first. She knew her dad, had been willing to put money on there having been a "friendly" warning issued, and couldn't really blame Matt for feeling intimidated, despite being the other guy who kind of saved the world.
You learn a lot about a person when guns are aimed at your head, and the guy she initially dismissed turned out—somehow—to be another man who did what needed to be done. As she watched the doors close on Matt's ambulance, she realized that that drugged, flickering smile he gave her dad was the first time she'd seen him not riding the thin line between terror and determination, and she knew that no matter what her dad thought he could control, she wanted to learn more about that Matt.
Even if he had refused to believe that her dad wasn't tapping her phone just to trap him.
"You sure about that? Because I would. I mean, I could. And he's a cop, and even if he couldn't, because some judge actually followed the law and didn't give him the authority, it's pretty likely that he could glare at the FBI and—"
"Matt."
"...Yeah?"
"Do you like coffee?"
His laugh had sounded even better than she'd hoped.
**
They had that coffee, and she found that they did have more to talk about than surviving terrorist plots. He actively avoided talking about that, in fact. Like dad, she thought, and then Matt said something about Guitar Hero being the minivan of videogames, and it was on. It wasn't until after they got through their second date without interruption, though, that Matt finally seemed to accept that John wasn't going to pop out and beat him into a bloody pulp on the sidewalk on the way to whisking her off to a convent.
"Seriously, 'beat you to death,' that's what he said. He also said he'd hate to have to, but you know, I'm betting he hated shooting himself in the shoulder, so, not going to pin too many hopes on that horse."
Lucy tightened her hand on the strap of Matt's bag and kept pulling him into her room. While she sat on the end of her bed to kick her shoes off, she watched Matt look at everything in the small space except her. "Really, the floor's not that comfortable," she told him.
His chin went up and his fingers stopped rubbing at the seam of his jeans. Then that quick half-smile came and went. "Yeah, okay," he muttered, and settled just close enough that he wouldn't fall off. Then she heard him breathe, "And this would be where I wake up."
Lucy couldn't help leaning in. "You've had dreams? About me?"
His head was shaking, denying, so she poked him in the arm.
Matt flinched, a shocked laugh bubbling out along with, "Hey. Ow."
Eyebrows high, she poked him again, harder. He knocked her hand away, his knee brushing her thigh as he shrugged. "Well, yeah. Guy."
"And what happens when you don't wake up?" she asked, curious.
He looked away and cleared his throat. "Um, which time?"
She laughed. After a second, he did, too.
**
Matt kissed her first, which wasn't at all how she had figured it would go. Once it was happening, she mentally kicked herself for underestimating him.
He handed her a fistful of bright red tulips while sitting in his car. None of the flowers were crushed despite having been jammed in his bag. When he said they reminded him of her, she knew her surprised smile went sappy. Then he twisted and leaned across the gearshift, and now his hand was in her hair and his lips moving were against hers so lightly that she pressed forward for more. But he held her still, nimble fingers slipping down to her neck. She got only the barest, quick lick of tongue from him before he drew back.
"I..." He blinked, then shook away a hungry look and pulled back. "I. I'll call you."
Her mouth opened and shut twice before she managed, "What?"
"It's three days," he told the steering wheel. "I'll be in D.C. for three days, and I'll be in meetings for most of them, but--"
"You're kissing and running?"
"Um." His eyebrows rise along with his shoulders. "No. Not exactly. More like driving away, so I can go make sure I have enough stuff to toss into a bag so that I don't stink too badly by day two."
He still wasn't looking at her and his left leg was beginning to jiggle. Lucy put her hand on his thigh, stroking lightly when the jittery motion stopped.
"FBI again?" she asked.
"For starters." A smirk tilted his mouth, matching the look he sent her. "Can't seem to run the country without my 'unique' advice." He blinked again, and uncertainty showed through. "But I'll understand if you can. I mean. Not that I want to run—"
She leaned forward and brought their lips together, shutting him up.