019. REWARD

Get on your knees.

Those four words were Rory's undoing.

Resting back on her heels, her eyes looked up at the brooding man in front of her. She hated to admit it, but even in dim lighting, he was still extremely good looking. Even his green eyes were piercing as ever. Lucky bastard.

The button-down shirt he had worn for the night was removed and discarded off to the side. Rory sunk her teeth into her bottom lip as her eyes traced the visible ink marks scattered across his chest. Light clanks of metal from his belt buckle and the noise of her heart rapidly thumping in her chest were the only sounds to fill the otherwise silent room.

His hand roughly gripped her chin. "This is where you earn your reward. Understood?"

She nodded.

"Words, Rory."

Licking her lips, she answered with a light, "Yes."

With the knowledge of earning her reward in her mind, she felt her instincts kick into high gear. It was a blessing and a curse to have the mind she did. It ensured she always worked hard enough to come out on top - even if that meant killing herself in the process. Well, this circumstance wouldn't call for her to work until the point of exhaustion and numbness - at least, she hoped.

Death by a cock. That would be a funny way to go.

Although, she feared that might be true once he pulled down his briefs. It was well above average, that was for sure, but it wasn't abnormally large - the size that needed a proper warm-up before use.

Without needing an invitation, Rory got to work. It wasn't like she needed any instructions - she knew what he expected of her. A proper blowjob. The kind that earned her a reward. A reward that he had been dangling in front of her since the damn cab ride.

She started things slowly, easing him in with a little tease. Swirling her tongue around the tip, she ran it down to the base and back up. She repeated the action a handful of times before she could sense he was already growing frustrated by her action. Not wanting it to hurt her chances of the reward, she ignored the urge to continue with her teasing and began to work inch by inch of his length past her parted lips.

Reaching down, Harry gathered her hair in his hands. What she thought to be a kind gesture, Rory soon learned that it was only an opportunity for Harry to guide her mouth at a faster speed. Rory knew he liked control. But she thought there would be a few minutes allowed to work at her own pace before he took over.

The hand tangled in her hair gripped tighter, gently tugging at the strands. Her eyes peered up, watching the pleasure that washed across his expression.

If she worried he wasn't enjoying himself, he squashed her doubts the moment he said,

"I always knew this mouth of yours would be good."

Hearing that comment from anyone else would have pissed her off; she probably would have sunk her teeth down right then and there. But hearing it from him only turned her on more and caused a moan to release from her sinful mouth.

The noise vibrated against his length, causing Harry to release his own noise of pleasure. She nearly let out another moan watching as his head rolled back. Her eyes began to water, and the soreness spread across her jaw - but the sounds she heard from him were all worth it.

Pulling her head back, he allowed her to catch a much-needed breath—what a gentleman.

"You're making quite the mess."

A coy smirk tugged on her lips. "It's better when it's messy."

The smugness that matched the tone of her remark only lasted a second before her mouth was put to better use. He didn't say that, but Rory knew he was thinking it.

Getting her mouth fucked was never something she thought about enjoying. Yet every time he thrust harder and faster, she felt herself getting wetter. She liked being on her knees for him. And she loved hearing the sounds he made in response to her mouth.

There was a bit of irregular rhythm Harry set. He would pull her off now and then so she could catch her breath, stroke her cheek, and utter words of praise - which, thanks to her praise kink, hearing such compliments was quickly becoming unbearable for her. Sometimes he would ask if she were ready to keep going; other times, he would be able to tell and do so without a word. Rory liked not knowing what choice he would make because regardless of how much control he had at the moment, she felt safe with him.

Plus, his words of encouragement every time she took his entire length in her mouth were enough to send her over the edge.

She wasn't sure how long she had been on her knees. The soreness that ran from her jaw to her knees indicated it had been a while. A pillow would have been a good idea; usually, guys didn't last this long. They acted like it was the first time getting touched, which made the job more manageable since it wasn't something she typically enjoyed. However, that was a different story with Harry - something she assumed she'd say a lot throughout the night.

After asking, he finished in her mouth and slowly released his fingers from her hair. With swollen, red lips and flushed skin, Rory did her best to regain her breath as she rested her cheek against his thigh.

It wasn't long before she was off the ground and on his bed, laying with her back against the mattress, looking up at the ceiling. Her dress was removed and tossed onto the floor, causing goosebumps to make an unwanted appearance. Rory sucked in a breath as he joined her on the bed.

When Harry brought up the promise of treating her with a reward for good work, Rory couldn't pass up the opportunity to be a star student. However, in the back of her mind, she prepared herself for disappointment. Men always tended to boast skills - when, in reality, they severely lacked in that department. Faking an orgasm or even sounds of enjoyment was a practice she, unfortunately, knew all too well.

There was no faking this.

She should have known he would have been good. After all, he was the best alley quickie she ever had (there wasn't a list to compare him to, but she assumed he'd still be at the top). However, there was no way she could have prepared herself for something like this.

He started slow - torturously slow - by pressing his lips under her ear and kissing his way down. The urge to yell at him to hurry up died on the tip of her tongue, catching the look of lust in his eyes. It was an odd, unfamiliar look for her to see, but it intrigued her nonetheless.

With his hands on her hips, he uttered a simple instruction, "Lift up."

The material of her underwear was pulled down her legs and tossed to the side. Now she was completely naked. It's not like she hadn't been this way in front of him before, yet there was something that made her stomach rattled with unknown nerves.

Stay calm, Rory. Don't let him see you sweat.

The voice inside her head sounded confident. Too confident. She should have known better. Her confidence flew out the window by the first touch of his tongue, causing a loud "Oh, fuck!". She felt him smirking in response. Cheeky bastard.

Harry sprawled his arm across the lower half of her stomach to keep her hips on the bed. The second his fingers were added to the mix, that's when she lost any minuscule amount of control that remained. Without his help, it would have been impossible for her not to lift her hips and squirm her body with every bolt of pleasure he sent through her.

With her hands gripping the bedsheet, she moaned out, "fucking hell - that feels good," followed by a string of more curse words in response to two of his fingers curling inside her.

It felt good. It felt really fucking good.

It didn't take long before she knew she was getting close. Rory guessed that happened when someone had an expert tongue and knew what to do with their fingers. Most men would jab their fingers around blindly or avoid the act altogether. But not Harry - shit, definitely not Harry. He needed to write a how-to manual on this.

Reaching down a hand, Rory tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling at the roots as her back arched off the bed. Every time she got close, he would slow his motions and edge her off the high. The torture caused her cheek to flush and sweat to pool at the back of her neck. She was so close. But Harry enjoyed the control.

Or maybe he enjoyed the sound of his name chanting from her lips.

By the time she was finally allowed to finish, Rory had sworn to herself it was the most pleasurable thing she had ever experienced - better than any drug she had snorted before. And she had taken some good shit.

The feeling consumed her mind and body; she barely noticed him easing her off her high and kissing his way back up to her neck.

"Did you enjoy your reward?"

Rory could only manage a nod, but the elated look she wore said it all.

Lips travelling up to her ear and down her jaw, Harry left a trail of kisses behind. "I love watching you cum," he whispered against the skin of her neck.

Reaching out his arm, Harry blindly pulled open his bedside drawer and rummaged around until he found what he was looking for. He placed the edge of the foil package in between his teeth and ripped it open. Rory was about to ask if he needed help getting hard again, but her question was answered when he spread her legs and asked, "Ready?"

"I'll start slow, Bambi. Don't worry."

Something felt different this time around when he entered her. The first time around, he was a stranger, and although she thought she had the control that night, it was clear that she was misinformed. The second time she was distracted by blood and her determination to prove he didn't fluster her.

But this time felt different, and she couldn't explain why.

No longer was he some stranger or covered in blood and stitched back up.

Maybe it was fucking in a bed that made things feel different.

Rory was smart enough to know a bed wasn't the factor, but for the sake of her sanity, she chose to believe it.

Harry pressed his hand against the inside of her thigh, keeping her legs spread open. "Such a good girl for me," he whispered into her ear, nipping the lobe, "Taking it all for me."

Placing her hand on the back of his neck, her lips parked to speak but all that came out was a string of curse words as he pushed in the final inch. She pulled on his hair as he began to thrust, but his lips silenced her moans.

Breaking the kiss, his forehead rested against hers, allowing them to catch their breath.

"Are you ready, Bambi?"

"Ready?" she repeated. "Ready for what? You're already in me!"

"This was just the warm up, darling."

That was when he really started to fuck her. No longer did he take his time to ease his cock in and out of her body with a slight amount of delicacy - and Rory loved every second of it.

Rory was becoming addicted to this feeling - how he felt inside her, kissed her passionately, and allowed his hands to explore her body.

In one swift motion, Rory was flipped over and positioned on all fours. The urge to make a smart comment was on the tip of her tongue. She had been silent for too long; it was practically begging to escape. As if Harry could read her mind, he abruptly vanished her urge.

Without warning, his length was slammed back into her, causing a cry of "oh, fuck!" to release from her mouth. Her body wanted to collapse forward, but Harry's grip on her hair kept her upright.

Amazingly, he hadn't pulled out all her hair by now.

With one hand in her hair, the other on her hip, he kept her body in place as he thrust. Her hands gripped the sheets; she swore she was able to rip them by how strong her hold was. Her ability to hold back from doing so was tested when his hand left her hip to smack her ass.

"Again," she cried out, moaning loudly as he obliged. She made a mental note to add that to her list of addictions for tonight. "Again," smack. "Again," smack. "Again-"

Instead of painting her skin red with his hand, Harry returned his hand to her hair. He tugged roughly, lifting her off her hands, so her back pressed against his front. Her head turned to the side. Instantly she was met with a rough and passionate kiss, his tongue tangling around hers. It left her breathless, but not as much as she was about to become.

A pleased smirk crossed her lips as the hand not tangled in her hair went to her throat. As Harry continued to fuck her relentlessly, his hand tightened its grip with every passing second.

Breathing became a chore - which only got her closer to the edge.

When her airways completely cut off, she finished harder than ever before.

Rory didn't know if it was possible to feel like someone had fucked their brains out. But if it was, she was positive Harry may have accomplished such a thing.

"Rory?"

"Hmm?"

"Can you get up, or do you need help?"

She was never expecting him to roll out the red carpet treatment and tuck her into bed; she expected the sly comments made to get someone out of their house post-sex. But she was at least hoping Harry would be a decent enough person to wait a few more minutes before starting. And not by doing so in such a blatant manner.

"I can do it," she replied, shifting her eyes around the room. "Just need to find out where you flung my clothing, and I'll go."

"What?"

"You threw my thong like a slingshot - I don't know where it went." Pressing her hands against the mattress, she pushed the front half of her body off the bed. "I'm worried if I leave it behind, you'll add it to a gross conquest shrine I'm sure you have hidden in some box in the back of your closet."

"What the fuck are you on about?"

Rory looked over her shoulder. "Don't play dumb, Harry. It's fine - I know what I signed up for. I just need to get my shit, and I'll go. You know this would happen much faster if you helped me find the clothing items you threw around instead of just standing there, right?"

"Why are you acting like I'm kicking you out?"

"Because you are... aren't you?"

"No."

"Oh." Why not?

He reached out his hand. "Come on."

Following his lead into the bathroom, her tired and sore body moved slightly slower than she was used to. For a brief moment, it felt odd to be walking next to him, holding hands while they were both naked. However, as they stepped onto the cold tiles of the bathroom, Rory quickly realized she was the only naked one. Harry was already dressed in a pair of sweatpants and smelled like soap.

"Did you shower?"

A smile spread across his lips. "You didn't hear the water? Wow, I guess you really passed out then."

"What?"

"You were a bit out of it when we finished, so I left you to recover while I washed off. But this," he gestured in front of them, "Is for you."

As she looked at the white porcelain tub, her brow furrowed, trying to make sense of what was happening. "You drew me a bath?"

"Yeah. I thought it might be more relaxing than standing in the shower," he said, picking up a bottle off the counter. "Plus, I have this coconut oil stuff. It helps with irritation and swelling." His eyes darted to her red bottom. "Might help."

Not wanting to expose that her face now matched the redness of her ass, Rory looked down, biting back a smile. With a helpful hand, she stepped cautiously into the tub of warm water and slowly lowered her body.

"Is the water temperature okay?"

"It's perfect. Thank you." She noticed the way he lingered by the door. "Are you going to stay with me?"

"I was going to give you some privacy." With the glimpse of panic that crossed her expression, he quickly added, "But, I'm happy to keep you company if you would like."

Rory instantly felt more relaxed as he took a seat on the edge. "Do you always draw people post-sex baths?"

"After care is important, Rory," he said, dipping his fingers into the warm water. "Do you want to dunk your head under? It might feel nice."

Rory's eyes widened at the thought of doing such a thing, which she quickly attempted to cover up by averting her gaze down to the water. A simple question shouldn't have left her silent in fear, but a reasonable excuse not to do such a thing wasn't coming to mind.

Maybe he really did fuck my brains out, she thought to herself.

"Rory?"

"Yes?"

"Are you alright?"

Sinking her teeth into her bottom lip, she turned her head. Trust comes with honesty. And honesty means that one has to admit, "I don't like going underwater."

"Do you want to get out?"

"No!" she quickly said, not wanting him to think she didn't appreciate his gesture. "I like this part. It's just going under that feels... suffocating. Plus, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't let myself come back up if I tried."

Rory never admitted that part of her fear out loud, but that was the problem with being honest. Once it started, it was hard to keep it in. She felt like an idiot for saying such a thing and ruining the moment. Tonight was about a quick fuck, not admitting that she was scared to go underwater.

If there was one thing above all that surprised her about the night, it was the way Harry looked at her without any judgement and said, "If you ever want to try it, I can help make sure you come back up for air."

I know someone who said that once, she thought to herself. And he still sank to the bottom.

An unknown feeling fluttered in her stomach. "I'll keep that in mind," she said, looking back in front of her to avoid him spotting the redness that spread across her cheeks. Although, she wished she wasn't afraid of going under due to the shiver that began to creep up her spine.

"You look tense. Can I try something to help you relax?"

She was tense - how did he know?

"Sure."

"Tilt your head back," he instructed.

As Harry fiddled around with the temperature settings, Rory noticed the hose in his hand and did as he asked. The moment the warm water soaked her hair, a smile spread across her lips. Who knew Harry could be this caring and considerate? Guess it took getting on her knees to find out - something she thought she wouldn't mind doing again if it meant seeing more of this side of him.

Opening her mouth to thank him for warming her up, she was abruptly silenced by his hands weaving into her hair, massaging her scalp. God. That felt good. Really good. When on earth did he learn to do-

Rory smelled the scent of roses, and her internal alarm bells immediately went off. Her eyes darted to the side—a shampoo bottle.

Holy shit.

Was he washing her hair?

What on earth was he doing that for? And why the fuck did it feel so good? Her confusion faded to the background as his hand massaged the nape of her neck. Shit. That felt good. She was quickly becoming a puddle of relaxation, all thanks to his magical fingers, kneading out the knots in places she didn't even know existed.

After another rinse, lather, and rinse again, Rory turned around in the tub, watching him dry his hands off. "Why are you being like this?"

"Like what?"

"This." Noting his confused expression, she gestured to their surrounding. "Why are you doing all of this!"

"Did you not like it?"

"No, I did," she said, biting the inside of her cheek. "But it's nice and thoughtful. Two words that don't come to mind when I think of you. No offence."

He grinned, reaching forward to tuck a strand of her wet hair behind her ear. "If I'm being honest with you, Bambi, I haven't done this in a while."

"Sex?"

"No. Bringing someone back to my place. I just wanted to make sure you were taken care of before bed." Standing from his spot, he looked down at her and asked, "Do I not seem like a nice and thoughtful person?"

"No," she bluntly admitted, "You don't at all."

"Good. That's the way I want it." He walked over to the cupboard and pulled out a set of fresh towels. "Let's keep my niceness and thoughtfulness our little secret then, okay?"

Biting back a smile, she nodded in agreement. "Your secret is safe with me."

After getting out of the tub and finishing up in the bathroom, Harry got some clothes for her to sleep in. She hated to admit it, but she liked seeing this side of him. The one who took care of her after sex, rummaged under the cabinet for the spare toothbrush and toothpaste he was sure was there, and brought her multiple clothing options to wear for bed because he wasn't sure what she wanted.

It was nice - the last thing she ever expected him to be.

Pulling the cotton t-shirt over her head, she looked over at him and said, "Last chance to kick me out."

"Oh, would you stop with that?" Harry patted her side of the bed. "Come on. I slept at your place before, remember?"

"Yeah, but you were stabbed, and I stitched you up."

"Are you saying I need to be stabbed again for you to get into bed?"

A playful smile crossed her lips as she crawled under the covers. "It's a start."

"I'll keep that in mind." Waiting until she was settled and resting her head on the pillow, Harry reached out his arm, securing it across her waist. "Goodnight, Rory."

"Night, Harry."

Rory had the best sleep of her entire life that night.

Well, that was probably a stretch. But at the moment, it felt a hundred percent true. In fact, she felt sadness, knowing that she would have to open her eyes at some point, and their one night of fun would be over. She would miss this bed. What the fuck kind of mattress was this? It felt like she was sleeping on a cloud.

The blaring ring of a cell phone pulled her out of the peaceful slumber the following morning.

"Hello?" Harry's half-awake voice gruffed. "Obviously, I'm fucking awake I'm talking to you, aren't I?" Even before the sun was up, Harry made it known he wasn't the type to take any shit - even when his voice was at a whispering volume. "Yeah. Okay. Bye."

Rory rustled awake, slowly opening her eyes. "Everything okay?"

"Shit, sorry. I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep, Bambi."

"I can-" her words were interrupted by her own yawn, "I can leave if you want, I don't mind."

"Why would I want that?"

She fought the urge to close her eyes again. "Because of your call or meeting or whatever you need to do."

"That was just Dallas." With a strategic maneuver, he rolled Rory back on her side and rested her head down on the pillow. "He was just making sure I was awake for our workout."

"Oh," she mumbled. "Let me get my things, and I'll go."

"Rory?"

"Hmm?"

Harry pressed a kiss against her neck. "Go back to bed. It's four-thirty."

"Four-thirty? Gross," she managed to get out before drifting back to sleep.

The sun was peeking through the curtains when her eyes reopened. Rory let out a yawn, not surprised to see Harry was gone. What was surprising, however, was the piece of paper left on her bedside table.

I'll be downstairs - sleep in as long as you want. Use anything you need in the bathroom. Spare clothes are in the dresser. x Harry

Rory was thankful he wasn't around. Because if he were, he would've spotted the goofy grin smacked across her face over a simple note.

She couldn't help herself.

It was kind. A nice gesture. Thoughtful. All those things were rare in her world.

Slipping out of bed, she made her way towards the dressers - two of the same ones positioned side by side. He didn't say where the clothes she could take specifically were, so she decided to start with the one on the left.

With all the drawers before it full of socks and underwear, Rory pulled open the last one. To her surprise, it wasn't a drawer filled with more pairs of his tighty-whities. They were personal items.

It wasn't polite to peek. Thankfully Rory never considered herself to be a polite person, so she had no trouble taking a quick look at the items.

The first items were nothing of great interest. Junk mail. Some postcards. A handful of old comics. Rory wedged her finger under the stack and lifted slightly to see what was underneath.

Jackpot, she thought to herself, seeing the stacks of scattered photographs.

The first picture made her smile; an image of a young Harry, probably around six years old, looking at the camera with the widest grin. He was on the lap of a woman, his mother, Rory guessed by the way the two looked eerily similar.

A few more images from school were found, one with Harry and his kindergarten class and another where he posed next to a school project. There was even a perfect attendance record and an award for his grades. Rory wondered what he was like as a kid. If what she looked at was any indication, the countless artifacts of school achievements would suggest he did well.

A photo of a beautiful woman caught her eye. Perfect blonde hair, crystal blue eyes, a glowing smile - whoever she was, she was stunning, to say the least. Another image caught her eye. This time, the woman wasn't smiling alone. Instead, she was pictured next to someone Rory had slept beside not too long ago. His hair was shorter - he looked less intimidating that way, she instantly thought - but his smile was the same.

Rory struggled to recall when she saw Harry look so genuinely happy.

Next to her, whoever she was, it seemed effortless.

Rory guessed this had to be the girlfriend Harry briefly brought up on their date - the one he refused to talk about aside from saying he took her out on dates. What would it be like to date Harry? Would he smile all the time? Look less like Mr. Angry Pants and more like Mr. Happy?

Just as Rory began to place each photo in the exact spot she found them in, she noticed something hanging from the woman's neck.

The locket.

The locket Rory had. The locket Rory stole. It was her locket.

She didn't want to be jealous of the unknown woman, yet she couldn't help herself. Not because it was Harry - that was the last thing on her mind. But because she wondered if anyone would look at her with the same look Harry had in every single photo. Would anyone kill another for her as Harry wanted to over a rusty piece of jewelry?

Closing the drawer and standing up, Rory glanced at herself in the mirror. Suddenly her hair looked too flat, her eyes far too dull in their brown shade. She knew she never lit up a room when she walked into it. Her smile was forced and unappealing; a scowl suited her much better.

Toying with a strand of her hair between two fingers, she wondered what it would be like if her dark hair were lighter. If her eyes were more of a vibrant colour - the kind someone got lost in and compared to an ocean. What would it be like to smile and light up a room because it was effortless for her to do so and not some type of ploy for the night?

Pushing the thoughts to the back of her mind, Rory did her best to focus on finding her scattered items. Her dress and purse were both quickly located. The one missing piece was her underwear. Dammit. Harry really did slingshot those to some hidden corner of the room. Or he was keeping it for his conquest shrine. Rory was convinced that it existed.

Digging through her purse, she checked to ensure all her items were still there. Keys. Cash. Pepper spray. Phone.

The buzzing device pulled her attention.

Benny: Where the fuck did you go?

Benny: Holy shit. Did you really leave with him?

Benny: RORY HAHAHA

Benny: Ok seriously love you but WTF CALL ME WHEN YOU WAKE UP YOU WHORE

Benny: U up yet?

Benny: Im bored and wanna hear about ur night ;)

Rory gave her friend a quick call, keeping the conversation short with a promise to explain everything later in exchange for a ride. She got her dress back on and looked over in the mirror.

"Wow, not a good look for you, Roro," she whispered, eyes scanning over her appearance. With one glance, any stranger could tell she was doing a walk of shame. Hopefully, he doesn't mind if I steal a sweater to cover up with.

Turning back to the dresser, she opened up the drawers and returned to her task of finding some clothes. This time around, she avoided the bottom, knowing she had seen enough of the beautiful girlfriend and locket for one day.

Bingo, she cheered internally, finding a drawer of clothing this time. Kneeling on the ground beside the open drawer, as she rummaged through to find something suitable, something caught her eye. But it had nothing to do with clothing. It was on the wall. More specifically, it was carved into the wall.

Rory moved closer to inspect. Letters were carved, forming words in a language she couldn't recognize. She ran a finger over, feeling every dip into the wall each line stroke had made. It looked like a code or a list of something.

Did Harry do this? What was it for? A safe? No - surely he wouldn't be stupid enough to carve a code into a wall.

The sound of voices from downstairs pulled her attention.

Stop looking at the wall, you freak, and find some fucking clothes!

For once, Rory listened to the voice in her head. Wanting to avoid getting distracted by the wall again, she closed the dresser drawers and slipped back on the shirt she had worn to bed. Problem solved.

Now all she had to do was get out.

Hopefully, that wouldn't be hard to do.

But as she opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the hallway, Rory remembered she had never been here before in the daytime.

Thankfully he didn't live in a maze, and the stairs were easy to find.

Boxes of records were pushed up against the railing. She recalled him mentioning he enjoyed collecting them but assumed they would be displayed and not stuffed in a box. Creeping down the staircase, she attempted to be as quiet as possible with each step. Although, the old floorboards did little to help keep her presence go unnoticed.

"Is someone here?" A voice that sounded like Cheese asked.

"Shit. No way," another person, who sounded like Dallas, said with a light laugh.

The bottom of the stairs faced the door. It would have been a perfect escape if the entryway to her right didn't have a clear view of the kitchen. Standing in that exact room, Harry, Colson, and Dallas all turned their attention to her.

"Uh, morning." Rory took a half step towards the door. "Well, I should go."

Colson rolled his eyes and turned back to his coffee while Dallas watched with an amused expression. Great. What could be a better ending to fucking her boss than having his two goons witness the walk of shame?

Rory couldn't get to the door fast enough.

"You don't have to hurry out of here, you know," Harry said from behind her. "You could stay for breakfast if you're hungry."

Reaching for the doorknob, she turned her head. "That's sweet, but it looks like you have some work to do, and I don't want to overstay my welcome. Besides, Benny, he could pick me up if I left now, and I'd rather not have to take the train home in my walk of shame outfit."

"I would've called you a cab."

Rory's grin widened. "Careful, Harry. You're almost making it sound like you want me around."

"You're not working tonight, right?"

"Nope. I'm not working tomorrow night either since you still won't put me on the schedule for the best nights."

He wasn't going to take his best and longest-standing employees off their preferred nights just for her. And she knew it too - in fact, she even respected it. However, that still didn't stop her from mentioning it whenever she had the chance.

"How about I stop by your place after I'm done with work tonight? I'll bring dinner."

"Why?"

"Because it will be later in the evening, and usually that's the meal people sit down for around that time." Harry stepped forward. "Am I asking you out in the wrong way or something?"

"You're asking me out?" She raised a brow. "Like on a... real date?"

"Yes, Rory. That's usually how these things go."

"Then, yeah, sure." Blush spread across her cheeks, which she didn't attempt to hide. "It's a date."

Leaning closer, he brushed his lips against hers to repeat in a whisper, "It's a date."

Rory couldn't ignore the butterflies that fluttered all over her body for him.

What the poor little Bambi did not know was that they weren't for infatuation - they were a warning sign. 

longest chapter I've written and posted without splitting up... yikes! if u made it to the end, ily.