"They do say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

Or it's through relentlessly critiquing his wild theories and seeing a hundred impossible things and fighting conspiracies and traveling across the country, back and forth, fingers brushing on redeye flights, dozing off in Ford Tauruses on endless stakeouts. Either way. They can split spring rolls, too.

She deepens the kiss, delighted, more or less hanging off his shoulders. As much as she's looking forward to spending tonight redefining her bed as, provisionally, their bed, this part-- the part where they're just basking in each other-- God, this is what she'd missed.