#wondertrevsecretsanta2020

[melodious-madrigals]

we should just kiss (like real people do)

hi @misha-winchester, i am your wondertrev secret santa! i hope you had a lovely christmas season/whatever holidays you may celebrate, and i hope you have a very happy new year.

Pairing: Diana Prince/Steve Trevor Words: 8′609 Rating: T (swearing) AO3 tags: Modern Setting/No Powers, co-workers, Fake Dating, ‘and there was only one bed’, Hallmark-movie-esque midsunderstandings, Happy Ending Summary: Etta just invited Steve’s significant other along on their group holiday vacation. The only problem? He made said significant other up to get out of a series of set-ups six months ago, and forgot to set the record straight. Enter Diana, his newest co-worker and real-life crush, who doesn’t have any holiday plans and is somehow offering to help him out.

i have been derelict for too long, but no more! i’m so sorry that it took me so long, and i hope you enjoy this trope-packed fic, because i couldn’t decide on just one, and then it sort of ballooned!

Read it on [AO3] or below the cut.

***

“Shit.” Steve’s head thunks against his desk.

“Problem?”

He looks up to find Diana Prince, the newest legal consultant at their NGO standing in his office door. She’s intimidating and smart and beautiful and possibly also the kindest person he’s ever met, and even though they’re friendly, she’s the last person to whom he wants to admit what’s wrong. But she’s also looking at him with such genuine concern that he spills his guts anyways.

“The last time my friend Etta tried to set me up with someone, I told her I was already dating someone, and now she wants me to bring them on our annual holiday trip to one of our friend’s cabin.” Steve kneads the space between his eyebrows, trying to get rid of the tension headache that’s starting to form.

Diana tilts her head, confused. “That’s kind of her.”

“I’m not actually dating anyone,” Steve clarifies. “I just said it to get her off my back. And now I have to either say I lied—which will not go over well for obvious reasons—or say that I broke up with the person and get all sorts of ‘holiday pity’.”

Diana leans elegantly against his doorframe. “People go their separate ways all the time, no? Besides, maybe it’s a bit soon for a weekend away with friends.”

Steve winces. “It’s possible that I told her this almost six months ago and never corrected the record.”

“Ah,” says Diana, taking the liberty of moving into his office and sitting down across from him. “So it’s rather a large deception then.”

“I didn’t mean for it to get so out of hand? It was just so nice to not have my friends nagging me about my dating life. They’re well intentioned but a little too insistent sometimes.”

“Okay, so telling them is out of the question,” Diana says, very seriously. And—uh-oh, she’s going into problem-solving mode. He’s absolutely mortified that his very capable and very attractive co-worker is taking time to talk with him about this when she’s a literal international human rights lawyer and university lecturer with plenty of other things to be doing. “Hmm. Isn’t that what Craigslist is for?”

“Ha,” says Steve. “I’m never going to be able to get someone to come with me over Christmas on such short notice.”

“Not everyone has plans on Christmas,” Diana argues.

“Yeah, I get that; I’m not even Christian,” says Steve. “But a lot of people still go home because it’s a long holiday.”

“I’m not Christian either and I don’t have any family here in the States. We exist,” Diana jokes.

“Want to be my fake date, then?” The words leave Steve’s mouth before his brain can catch up and tell him what a massively stupid idea that would be, to fake date his real crush, for lack of a better word.

“Yes, alright: if you can’t find someone on Craigslist, I’ll do it,” says Diana, and then before Steve can process: “Anyways, I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time. I just dropped by to give you a hard copy of my revisions. She hands him the legal brief, shoots him a quick smile, and saunters out of his office, apparently unaware of the dazed state she’s left him in.

I’ll do it? Is she serious? For a second, Steve’s mind runs away from him before he shuts it down. She was just being polite; he’s certain of it. There’s no way she wants to give up her days off to go to a cabin in the middle of nowhere with people she doesn’t even know.

Steve reluctantly writes up a quick wanted ad on Craigslist and hits post before he can overthink it. He can definitely do a fake date for the holidays, right? That’s something normal people do.

**

Three days later, he’s gotten a dozen responses to the Craigslist ad, but most of them are variants of either “is this some weird sex thing?” or “can you please post this story on reddit’s r/relationships with an update on how it went because i’m 2000 miles away but very invested in this”. None of them are a real live person that he can take on the trip to meet his friends.

His brain has also been playing Diana’s I’ll do it on repeat pretty much constantly, so on Tuesday evening, after most people have already gone home for the night, he steals himself and wanders down to Diana’s office. If she’s in, he’ll ask. If she’s gone, it’s a sign, and he won’t bring it up.

She’s still there, illuminated only by the glow of her computer and a small desk lamp—the overhead light is turned off and her coat is on, like maybe she was in the process of leaving and then went back to her desk to dash off one email that turned into several.

He taps on the doorframe.

“Steve!” she says, smiling when she sees him. “What a pleasant surprise! Have a seat, I’m just finishing something up. It’ll only be a moment.”  

He smiles nervously and takes one of the chairs opposite her desk, patiently silent as she taps away at her computer.

Three minutes later, she folds her laptop closed and turns the weight of her attention to him.

“Thank you for being patient. What can I do for you?”

“I just—were you serious?”

“Hmm?”

“The other day—were you serious about being my fake date if I couldn’t find someone on Craigslist?”

“I—yes, I was.”

“Wait, really?”  

She shrugs elegantly. “I have no holiday plans.”

“You’re sure.”

She tosses him an amused expression. “I am. It’ll be nice to meet some new people.”

“Right. Well. Can I, uh, buy you dinner or something while we go over the details?”

Diana considers him for a moment. “How does Thai takeout at my place sound?”

“Like a fantastic idea.”

**

On Friday, Steve is extremely antsy. He’s taken a half day, and he and Diana are driving up to Charlie’s cabin after her lecture lets out.

She’s in a good mood when he picks her up, and the ensuing discussion crosses a half a dozen different topics. He doesn’t think they’ve ever had a boring conversation, and they’re more than halfway there before Steve remembers that he wanted to run through the basics of their fake-dating mandate again.

“I’ve never really been much for PDA,” he says, “so they won’t be surprised if we’re not particularly demonstrative. A little hand-holding and casual touching here and there and we’ll be fine.”

“Yes,” replies Diana, amused rather than annoyed. “You mentioned this the other day.”

“Did I? I guess I’m just nervous.” He’s already feeling a little guilty about lying to his friends (again), and he’s suddenly wondering if he’s capable of pulling it off.

“They asked me to invite you—er, my significant other—to a dinner in October. I don’t think it’ll come up, but—”

“I spent a week of October in Europe, and have plenty of university functions to attend,” Diana reassures him. “Saying I was busy that night probably isn’t even a lie, and besides, that was months ago. Take a breath; this will be okay.”

“I’m just rethinking this,” huffs Steve.

“You’re welcome to tell them I’m just a friend that needed a place to stay for the holidays,” Diana offers calmly.

“No. No, I’m committed to the lie now.”

“Okay. Then let’s do this. I’m here for you, you know.”

“Yeah,” says Steve, glancing over at her in the passenger seat before turning his attention back to the road. “Thanks.”

**

They’re the last ones to arrive to the cabin, because everyone else was able to take the full day off, so they walk into a full house.

“Oh, it’s so lovely to finally meet you!” exclaims Etta, pulling Diana into a hug before they’ve barely gotten in the door.

“You must be Etta,” Diana says, once she’s been let go. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Hey, Etta,” Steve says, pulling her in for his own hug.

“Everyone else is in the living room.”

They make their way down the hall, towards the sound of all the voices.

“Steve!” yells Sameer from across the room when they round the corner. A cheer goes up—it’s possible that some of them have already had a glass or two of wine—and Steve pulls Diana forward to introduce her.

“Everyone, this is Diana. Diana, this is Napi, Charlie, Etta’s wife Adrienne, Sameer, and Sameer’s fiancée Noor.”

“It’s so lovely to meet all of you,” says Diana, moving forward to shake hands and give hugs, along with Steve.

“You’ll want to drop off your luggage in your room, I’m sure,” Etta declares forcefully, shooing them back out of the room once they’re done with the greetings.

“Alright, alright, we’re going,” acquiesces Steve.

“Well, dinner will be done shortly, and I’m sure you’re hungry. Best get settled in before you go into a food coma.”

“Stop making sense,” he snarks, but they all know he’s joking.

“Second door on the left!” calls Etta after him, as they traipse up the stairs. There’s a niggling in his brain about this room, because he’s been in it once and it’s—

“Shit,” says Steve under his breath upon entering the room, because it’s one of the rooms with a single queen bed instead of two twins.

“Is there something wrong with the room?” asks Diana, a step behind him. “I’m sure we can fix it, whatever it is.”

“No, it’s just—I didn’t even think about this,” says Steve, gesturing at the bed. “Usually when I come, I’m in a different room with Charlie or Napi.”

Diana surveys the space in front of them. “You mean the bed?” Her nose wrinkles. “Are you really that uncomfortable sharing?”

“I—no, of course I’m not. I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“Well then, that’s settled. I am not uncomfortable. Which side do you prefer?”

Of course it’s not a big deal. Right. He’s making too much out of this because he might—possibly—have feelings. But for Diana, it’s just two adults sharing a bed, which is perfectly natural. But now she’s looking at him expectantly, which makes him realize—“Uh, left, I guess.”

The way she smiles, he gets the distinct impression that his answer has pleased her, that he’s chosen correctly, if such a thing is possible. (He thinks, stupidly, that he would do quite a lot to chase that smile.)

Meanwhile, Diana drops her duffel on the right side of the bed.

“Do you mind if I change quickly before dinner?”

“Yeah, no, of course. I’ll just be downstairs.”

Steve heads back downstairs and pauses in the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face.

He can definitely share a bed with Diana. They’re adults. It’s not strange, and it’s not romantic. It’s just two people sharing a sleeping space because there are not enough beds.

He reenters the living room to find Charlie and Sameer in the middle of an argument about who’s the better cross-country skier while Noor, Adrienne, and Etta chat over a cup of tea and Napi watches over several pots in the kitchen.

“The answer, of course, is neither of you. Noor is the best skier here.”

Charlie squawks indignantly, and Sameer laughs. “That she is.”

“Can someone set the table?” asks Napi. “Dinner is about to be ready.”

Steve, as the closest one to the kitchen, pulls out the plates and silverware and starts setting up the table, while the others slowly drift towards the dining area.

And then there’s a gentle pressure on his elbow. “Can I help with anything?” asks Diana, softly, and when he turns, he feels the air knocked out of him.

Diana is all comfort, in simple black leggings and a chunky winter sweater instead of her usual pristine business wear, but she’s all the more beautiful for the casualness. Her face, too, is wiped clean of standard makeup and her hair is down, and he realizes that she has freckles. They’re faint, just the slightest smattering over her nose and cheeks, but Steve is close enough to see them, and for a second he wants to touch them, trace them into constellations.

Then he realizes he’s staring and jumps a little, moving to rearrange the plate in front of him.  

“You could, uh, fold the napkins, I guess? There isn’t really a whole lot to do.”

They work in tandem as the rest of the crew files in, loud and boisterous as they dish out their meals.

“So, Diana,” says Etta, once everyone is settled in their seats, “tell us all about yourself! Steve’s been so tight-lipped about you that I was starting to think you didn’t exist.”

Steve almost chokes on his wine, but Diana doesn’t so much as flinch, simply smiling at Etta and saying, “Well, I’m not sure what you’d like to know, but I’m originally from one of the Grecian islands and I completed my studies in the UK. Right now, I’m splitting my time between the US and the Netherlands.”

“Oh, what part of the Netherlands?” asks Noor. “Sameer and I both lived there, at different points!”

“Just the Hague, I’m afraid,” says Diana ruefully, because it’s not known for its charms.

“Diana’s on a prosecutorial team at the International Criminal Court,” Steve clarifies, which prompts a number of impressed looks all around the table.

“We’re in between cases right now,” Diana says, “and we’re only just starting to file some pre-trial motions for the next thing on our docket, so I took a position as a guest lecturer here in the States. A friend of mine convinced me to take the consulting position at the ARGUS Foundation since it’s not full-time.” When Diana pauses, she notices a number of raised eyebrows around the table. “I think the expression in English is ‘I wear a lot of hats’,” she jokes.

“She’s a wonder,” interjects Steve easily, and he doesn’t even have to work at the soft look that he gives her. (He’ll interrogate the fact that it’s just how he looks at her later, when he’s alone and can have a nice little panic about it.)

“I just like to have purpose,” says Diana, and then Noor asks her about her last case, and the conversation takes on a life of its own.

Diana, as he suspected, gets on well with his friends, fitting in as though she’s known them years instead of hours, and they migrate into the living room after dinner, talking and laughing into the late hours of the evening.

“They are all lovely,” Diana tells him the moment the door to their room has closed behind them.

“They’re okay,” says Steve, but his face is pulled up in a smile, and Diana just laughs. He’s spent all evening getting to look at her whenever he wants, and even though they’re alone, even though there’s no need for his eyes to keep finding her, he doesn’t want to pull them away.

“They’re all so interesting!” Diana exclaims. “Sameer and I talked about linguistics for a full half an hour, and Etta and Adrienne’s stories are incredible!”

That makes him laugh. “Yeah, Etta’s something else.”

They talk a little more as they get ready for bed, and finally there’s nothing more to do but turn out the light and get under the covers. Steve’s tired enough that he thinks he has a decent shot at falling asleep, but he feels a little awkward as they both shift carefully on their respective sides.

“Hey,” he whispers into the deepness of the silky black night. “Thank you again for being here.”

“It is my pleasure.”

He listens to Diana’s breathing quickly even out, and though it takes him a little longer, he too falls asleep without too much trouble, despite her nearness.

**

To his great relief, or maybe to his great disappointment, they wake up in almost the exact same positions that they fell asleep in, on completely opposite sides of the bed.

“Good morning,” says Diana softly, hair slightly mussed and eyes still a little heavy with sleep, and frankly Steve’s not sure how he’s going to make it through the rest of the trip, because he likes her so much and also doesn’t want to impose his feelings.

“Good morning. I hope you’re ready for another insane day.”

“Once I’ve had some coffee, absolutely.”

“Well then,” says Steve, “let’s get you some coffee.”

Coffee is followed by breakfast, which is chaotic because everyone is up at slightly different times and traditionally, they fend for themselves for breakfast which means in practice that half a dozen people end up doing things in the kitchen at the same time.

The rest of the day is no calmer, as they all pack themselves up and spill outside for a snowy hike that lasts most of the afternoon. Diana, Etta, and Napi establish themselves as the fastest hikers early on, and they sort of naturally split into two groups. The whole group meets back up at one of the lookout points, where the faster group has lingered to let the rest catch up.

Steve uses the viewpoint to check in with Diana. “You doing okay?”

When she turns to him, her cheeks are rosy with exertion, her breath is coming out in silvery puffs in the cold air, and her eyes are dancing. “Excellent, you?”

“Really good.” They take in the snowy view in front of them. “Hey, I didn’t mean to leave you on your own,” Steve says, suddenly feeling a little awkward.

Diana snorts. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I was the one that walked ahead of you. If I’d been bothered, I wouldn’t have split off with Napi and Etta.”

“Right, of course.” He feels a bit stupid; she’s never struck him as the type to do something she really didn’t want to.

“We should probably walk back together though. For appearances.” She winks at him, and before he can respond, Noor is at his elbow.

“Can I take a picture for you two?”

“That would be great,” says Diana, handing Noor her phone as she slips her arm around his waist.

Pictures are snapped, and then they’re headed back down the trail. Steve ends up so engrossed in his conversation with Diana that the rest of the group fades away, and on the last straightway after they’ve descended, Diana reaches out and casually links their hands. Even through their gloves, it’s a giddy feeling.

**

That night after dinner, Steve steps outside for a moment of respite from the noisiness of the cabin. He breathes deeply, and stares at the patch of sky not covered in clouds, picking out a familiar constellation.

“Diana’s wonderful.”

Steve looks up from where he was leaning against the balcony railing to find that Etta has joined him outside.

“Yeah, she’s pretty great,” Steve agrees.

“I’m sorry you didn’t feel comfortable introducing us earlier,” says Etta so sincerely that Steve feels a squirming guilt welling up. “But if this was the pace you needed to go to be sure of your relationship, to make it solid and lasting, I’m glad you took the space to do so.”

“Right,” Steve echoes.

“Seriously, Steve,” says Etta, touching his arm, so that he’s almost forced to look at her. “You and Diana are so well-suited, and she’s good for you—I’ve never seen you like this.”

“What’s this?”

Etta contemplates him a moment. “You’re happy,” she says simply, and Steve rolls his eyes, because if Etta thinks just being in a relationship equates to—“but it’s not just that. You’re…still. Calm. You’ve usually got this frenetic, discontented energy, and with Diana it’s quieted.”  

It makes Steve pause, but before he can say anything—refute her or maybe, heaven forbid, agree with her—Diana herself is bursting onto the balcony.

“There you are!” she exclaims, wrapping her arms around him from the back, and fuck, maybe it is his instinct to relax in the split second before he remembers that this is all an act. “Charlie says we’re roasting marshmallows over the fire, and I’m told that you have the technique perfected,” she says, with all the exuberant glee of a child.

Steve pointedly ignores the knowing, indulgent look on Etta’s face as he turns in Diana’s arms to face her, a small but unquashable smile on his face. “That’s a classic holiday tradition for us—I was wondering when Charlie was going to break them out. Have you ever had a s’more?”

“No, but I’m looking forward to it!”

“Well, then we can’t let Sameer or Etta roast yours; they always burn them.”

“It’s meant to be eaten with a little char,” says Etta.

“Absolutely not!” Steve doesn’t have time to say any more, because Diana has laced her hand in his and his gently tugging him toward the interior.

“Right. This is an American classic and you’re gonna love it.”

After making her the perfect marshmallow—gold and toasty, and soft all the way through without being burned—the rest of the night is spent roasting increasingly silly things over the coals and drinking copious amounts of hot chocolate and eggnog that are optionally spiked, utterly warm and cozy.

“Tell me something about yourself,” requests Diana, when they’re tucked into bed later, still on their own sides but far closer together than they were the night before.

“Like what?”

“Something—well, not something secret, if you don’t want to. But something that most people probably don’t know.”

Steve considers her for a moment, shifting so that he’s facing her, the moon providing just enough light that he can see the contours of her face. “I wanted to be a pilot.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I wanted to be a fighter pilot.”

Diana grins. “I can see that. What stopped you?”

“I decided I wouldn’t really be helping people, and helping people is what I wanted to do. What about you?”  

“What did I want to be?”

“No, just—anything.”

“Hmm,” says Diana. “My favorite childhood memories are those of my aunt, Antiope.”

“Was she the cool aunt who spoiled you rotten?”

“She was the aunt that got me up at six in the morning every day to train.”

“Wow, that’s neat, I guess,” Steve deadpans, and Diana laughs in the darkness, rolling onto her side so that she’s facing him, so that they’re almost nose to nose.

“She was also more indulgent than my mother, yes.”

“I think we have very different definitions of indulgent,” says Steve.

“Perhaps,” says Diana, and despite how late it is, they spend another hour or two trading secrets in the darkness before falling asleep. Steve learns, among other things, that she loves cherries more than any other fruit, that she’d rather take the metro than a cab any day of the week, that she played the harp for a while and misses playing music but not playing the instrument itself. When they finally drift off to sleep, it’s still facing each other, fingers inches apart.

**

Steve wakes up feeling incredibly comfortable and very cozy. It’s only when he stretches a little that he realizes that the warm weight against his chest is not his blanket, but Diana. During the night, they must have migrated into each other, because now that his brain is coming back online, Steve realizes that not only is Diana tucked into his chest, but their legs are twined together. His shifting causes her to stir a little, but only to nuzzle against him a little before settling.

This is fine; he’s not freaking out. Not about how they’re accidentally pressed together, or about how much he likes her, or about what any of this means. Not about lines blurring and becoming harder to make out, not about lying to his friends. He’s fine.

Taking a breath, he weighs his options. He can wait for Diana to wake up and pretend he’s still asleep, and let her figure out how to react, or he can try to extricate himself now. Although it might wake her up, and then it would be doubly awkward, and—

And he’s waited too long in deciding, because Diana stretches a little sleepily and then blinks her eyes open, looking up at him.

“Good morning,” she says, apparently unbothered by their position. It’s making him spiral in confusion, and want, because it would be so easy to lean forward and kiss her, but neither has she directly expressed interest in him romantically, so he’s not about to actually do it.

“Did you sleep well?” asks Diana, gently untangling herself and sitting up.

Now that Steve thinks about it, he realizes that he’s slept better than he has in ages.

“Yeah,” he affirms a little hoarsely. “You?”

“Very well.” He’s considering saying something else—anything else, maybe apologizing for how closely they slept or, alternatively, telling her he adores her—when she continues, “How do you think everyone would feel about quiche?”

“Quiche?”

“One of the few reliable things I can cook,” says Diana, “but I have a good recipe, and I’m quite certain we have everything I’d need.”

Steve blinks. “I think it’d go over well.”

“Perfect!” Diana slips out of bed, sliding across the room with more of her infectious energy as she gathers her clothing for the day.

By the time Steve gets downstairs post-shower, Diana’s got the crust rolled out and blind-baking and has a number of veggies sautéing.

“Oh, good, you’re here! Can you pass me the mushrooms?” she asks, and he obliges, then takes it upon himself to crumble the cheese for her.

“Do you cook a lot?” he asks, and then curses himself, glancing around to make sure they’re alone and that nobody heard what was clearly a question that he, by all rights, should know the answer to. Blessedly, the only other person up is Napi, and he’s out on the porch.

“Not if I can help it,” says Diana. “You?”

“I enjoy it,” says Steve.

“Enjoy what?” asks Sameer, who’s just come down the stairs.

“Passing me ingredients when I tell him to,” teases Diana, successfully covering up what may have been a slip-up, because Sameer just rolls his eyes.

“You two are ridiculous.”

“More like adorable,” says Etta, who has apparently also been summoned by the smell of brewing coffee. “By the way—how did you two start dating? I’ve been meaning to ask since I never heard the story from this one”—she gestures at Steve—“and I’m sure it’s equally adorable.”

Steve can’t believe they’ve come this far without being asked, and that they didn’t do a better job of anticipating this question. He’s about to bumble his way through a response, but Diana, who is now pouring the egg mixture into the pan, has it covered.

“It’s sweet to me because it is ours, but I think you’ll otherwise find it quite boring. My third day of work, I came to his office by accident, looking for another colleague, and we traded a couple of jokes. Two days later, a bunch of people from the office went out for drinks after work, and I ran into Steve again. We spent a lot of the evening chatting, and when we left for the evening, he walked me to my train, and as we were waiting on the platform, he asked me out. He was kind and funny and handsome; there was no reason not to say yes.”

For a moment, Steve feels like he’s been hit by a train, because that’s actually how they met. They did spend an evening chatting, and he did wait on the platform with her. The only bit that didn’t happen was the asking out, and now he wonders what might have happened if he had. Then he reminds himself that it’s all an act, and she’s supposed to be acting like she likes him. He’s getting reality confused with the little mirage they’ve created.

“—it is sweet though,” Etta is saying when he snaps back to attention, unsure of just how much he’s missed.

“Yes, Steve is very thoughtful,” says Diana fondly.

He doesn’t really get a chance to ask her about it, because soon everyone is crowded around the table for breakfast, and that quickly turns into a card game, where they get separated by a few seats. It all somehow blends into lunch, as people swap in and out, Sameer and Noor doing the cooking, this meal, with Adrienne flitting in and out to help as she puts up a few extra lights for tonight’s Christmas eve celebration. He tries not to think about it too much, because Diana looks like she’s having a good time, and he is too, and eventually he gets swept up in the game, focusing on counting trump and keeping track of tricks and arguing genially with Charlie about who may or may not be cheating.

**

“Steve.” Diana pulls him aside after lunch, tugging him into their room.

“What’s up?” She looks entirely too serious, and it worries him. Is this about their story? Is something wrong?

“First kisses are always a bit awkward,” she says bluntly.

It’s so out of the blue that Steve’s brain doesn’t even short-circuit. He just blinks. “Yeah, usually.”

“Well, I just saw Adrienne putting mistletoe up. Your friends are wonderful people, but if we don’t get caught under it naturally, they’ll make sure we do.”

She’s got his friends pegged; that’s absolutely how they operate.

“They’ll recognize something is off if we’ve never kissed. I think we need to practice.”

Now Steve’s brain short-circuits.

“Practice.”

“It’s the only way to make sure it’s not during an ambush.” Her eyes are wide and she’s very close, so close that one of them could erase the distance without even taking a step, but she’s paused, waiting.

Waiting to see if it’s okay, if she has his consent.

His thoughts flick back, inexplicably, to this morning. (Was it really just this morning that they woke up tangled together? It seems a week ago already.) Knowing what it’s like to kiss her will probably explode his brain, but not knowing is worse. He nods, just a fraction, words caught in his throat, and then she’s closed the distance and pressed her lips to his.

Fireworks are for dramatic novels, but the world still shifts on its axis. It’s soft and slow, exploratory, but the pressure is somehow just right, and it consumes him. It’s everything he never let himself imagine it would be, and more. When she eventually pulls away—seconds, minutes, hours later, he’s not sure—he chases her lips for a moment before remembering himself, marshalling his reaction and pulling away in equal measure.

“Right, so. No mistletoe first kiss,” he manages, because seriously, what the fuck, he’s never had a first kiss feel that natural, that right.

“Mission accomplished,” says Diana faintly. “I think we’ll be fine.”

“Fine,” Steve echoes, and he thinks he sees Diana’s gaze flick back to his lips, dark and heavy, but then there’s the pounding of feet on the stairs and shouts outside their room.

“Steve! Diana! Are you in for another round of cards before we start the movie marathon?”

Diana startles, and takes three steps back, smoothing down her hair, her shirt, before opening the door to find Adrienne there, looking at them expectantly.

“Yes, of course,” says Diana.

“Oh,” smirks Adrienne, giving them a once over. “I can come back.”

“No, it’s alright. I’ll come down now; I want to get a cup of tea before we start up again. Steve?”

“I—yeah, a cup of tea would be great. Black tea—”

“—with a dash of honey, I know,” she says fondly, as if this is old news and not something she’s clearly picked up in the last day and a half.

“Thanks.”

When he collects himself and comes downstairs a few minutes later, he spots Diana across the room, head thrown back in laughter as she chats with Napi over the kettle.

She fits, he thinks. He’s seen her in professional settings, being diplomatic even when she doesn’t want to be, but here, she’s relaxed, and from everything she’s said, she likes his friends as much as they like her. Isn’t it sort of everyone’s dream that the person they like gets along with their friends?      

He takes another second to try to untangle his thoughts before he gets ushered back into the fold and has to pretend that everything is uncomplicated.

**

Christmas day dawns bright and cold, and sees, for the second day in a row, Diana snuggled into Steve. Despite another meandering conversation in the dark—in which he absolutely chickened out of asking her about the backstory she created for them, or the kiss—and starting the night on different sides of the bed, they seem to have rolled together in their sleep, and if he didn’t wake up with an absolutely parched throat, Steve would’ve probably gone right back to sleep, enjoying the warmth. Instead, he extricates himself gently, and by the time he gets back to the room a few minutes later, Diana is up and dressed, dashing any plans he might’ve been entertaining for a bit of a lie-in.

As with most things on their holiday trips, the day is centered around food. There’s a huge brunch, and then a little foray outside—nothing like the hike the day before yesterday, just a little walk that turns into a snow angel contest—and then it’s back inside to start cooking Christmas dinner. It’s Etta and Charlie taking point, because, as Steve explains to Diana, the group rule for any and all holidays is that those who observe do the traditional cooking, and everybody else takes care of the clean-up.

At one point in the afternoon, a trivia game gets pulled out, and in a classic showdown of boys (Steve, Sameer, Napi) vs. girls (Diana, Noor, Adrienne), the ladies trounce them thoroughly. There’re plenty of mimosas and someone starts a Christmas playlist, and honestly, Steve can’t think of a better Christmas in a long, long time.

They don’t really exchange ‘real’ gifts, but they do have a long-standing tradition of an intense game of White Elephant, which happens after dinner.

No less than 4 items (a succulent in a corgi-shaped pot, a coffee mug with some gratuitously dirty language on it, a pair of wool socks with Munch’s The Scream emblazoned on them, and an umbrella patterned with cartoon gentleman amongst the raindrops so that it’s always raining men) get stolen so many times that they hit the limit. (Diana walks away the proud owner of the socks, thanks to a strategic steal by Steve, which sets her up to steal them for the last time.)

The mood is so light that Steve has almost forgotten that this isn’t quite real, that he’s lying to his friends and sort of lying to Diana, too. That comes crashing down when they bump into each other coming back into the living room.

See, Steve and Diana had managed to casually avoid the newly strung up mistletoe all of Christmas Eve and most of Christmas day—at least together, that is; at one point Steve finds himself under the mistletoe with Sameer, and they both dramatically grip each other for a theatre kiss—by sheer luck, but their luck runs out after White Elephant. Steve has gone into the kitchen to deposit an empty tray of food, and Diana is on her way back from the bathroom, and they collide in the doorframe.

Instinctively, Steve puts a hand out, touching the small of her back lightly to anchor himself and steady her. It’s just a casual touch, but he lingers a second too long.

“Oooh, look! Steve and Diana are under the mistletoe!” sings Adrienne, pointing from across the room.

Steve glances up automatically, as though maybe Adrienne might be wrong, even though he knows damn well that there’s mistletoe hanging there.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” chants Etta, clearly a little tipsy, and the rest of his asshole friends join in the chant.

Steve’s eyes flick to Diana’s, and she raises an eyebrow, inclines her head almost imperceptibly. It’s permission, so he leans in and gives her a quick kiss, their lips barely touching. He’s not sure he can handle more in front of his friends right now, not with all of the emotions pooling in his stomach.

“Boo!” yells Charlie. “You and Sameer had a better kiss than that!”

There’s general clamoring of assent, and Diana reaches out and cups a hand to his cheek, to a great whoop from someone in their little peanut gallery. “If you are uncomfortable, we do not have to do this,” Diana murmurs, low and close enough that only he can hear it.

The real problem is that Steve wants little more than to kiss her again, but he feels guilty about it.

“It’s okay.”

She searches his eyes for a moment, and then closes the rest of the distance, kissing him properly. He sinks into it, and relishes in the little gasp he elicits when he deepens the kiss just a little. It’s the catcalling that splits them apart, and he’s sure he looks a little shell-shocked.

“That’s a kiss!” hollers Adrienne.

To his surprise, Diana doesn’t immediately move away from him, but stays tucked into his side, blushing a little.

“You’re all just a little too invested in our love life,” she admonishes lightly, but the point is missed as Etta launches into a bit of a ramble about how Steve introduced her to Adrienne by accident and how she’s been looking to return the favor, but that she’s glad Diana is here.

Steve watches Diana go a bit pink again, and wants to pull her aside, try to clear some things up, but then there’s another round of mulled wine, and they settle in for one last Christmas movie before the day ends.

Diana goes to bed before Steve does, while he stays back to have another round with Charlie, and by the time he realizes that he wanted to talk to her alone, she’s fast asleep.

**

The morning of the twenty-sixth is chaotic from the start; Diana’s up and out of bed before Steve wakes up, and then everyone is scrambling to pack up before they all drive back to the city. This time, Diana and Steve have got Sameer and Noor with them, because they came with Napi, who’s leaving directly to visit some extended family, and Etta and Adrienne don’t have enough room because they’re Charlie’s ride. It’s a pleasant ride, and Noor, Sameer, and Diana spend a solid half hour swapping in and out of Arabic to tease Steve, who does speak three languages himself, but doesn’t count darija as one of them.

They drop Noor and Sameer off with promises of seeing them at Etta’s party on New Year’s Eve, at the very latest, and suddenly they’re alone again.

“Thank you again for doing this,” says Steve. “You were the best fake date I could’ve asked for.”

“It was my pleasure,” says Diana. “I had a really good time, and a fun holiday.”

“And you really don’t mind putting in an appearance at the New Year’s Eve party?”

“Not at all. I’m actually looking forward to it.”

“Good; I think everyone is looking forward to having you there.”

They’re quiet as they pull up to Diana’s building.

Before Diana can move to get out of the car, Steve takes a deep breath. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, anything.” Her wide eyes are trained on him, and he almost loses his nerve.

But it’s now or never; he has to know if this is just him or if she feels something too. “If I had asked you out, that night on the platform, would you have said yes?” It feels like the safest version of the question he wants to ask.

Diana doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

It knocks the wind out of him and is simultaneously one of the best things he’s ever heard, because maybe that means there’s still time to make a proper go of it.

“Do you—”

He’s cut off by Diana leaning forward and kissing him sweetly, and he instinctively pulls her a little closer, deepens the kiss without consciously thinking about it.

“Sorry, I interrupted you,” says Diana, biting back a smile when they eventually pull apart, breathless. It makes Steve laugh, and he can’t fight the grin that’s also building. There’s no one around to fool, no one around even to prepare for; this is just them.

“Do you want to come to mine for dinner tonight?” Steve asks, bubbling with a profound sort of happiness. “For a real date this time?”

“I would love that,” says Diana, grinning. “No tricks, no fake backstories. Just us.”

“That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day.”

“Just give me a couple of hours to shower and change and answer a couple of emails?” Diana says.

“How does seven sound? I’ll cook.”

“I can’t wait.”

He watches her go, almost floating from how giddy he feels. As he drives home, he mentally goes over what he’ll need to get for the meal he wants to make. Truly, it was the best fake date ever; he might, he thinks, even consider posting the story of it to the r/relationships thread like one of the Craigslist messages asked, because it’s so wonderfully peculiar.

**

“Right on time!” says Steve with a grin when Diana knocks on his door that evening for their date.

His smile falls when he notices her face, tired and serious, despite how light it had been only hours ago.

“Steve, I have to go,” she says without preamble.

“What?”

“I’m flying back to the Netherlands tonight.” What? That can’t be right; she’s not due back for several months, and even that’s only a trip. Steve’s brain lags a second and then realizes she’s still talking, dark eyes all apologies. “—straight to the airport from here, actually. I just came by to say goodbye. It seemed like the sort of thing that should be done in person.”

“But what—”

“You know who Patrick Morgan is, yes?”

Of course he knows who Patrick Morgan is; he’s a war criminal who was only caught and extradited recently. It made waves when jurisdiction was given over to the ICC, at least among the relevant international communities.

“The war criminal?” he asks, just to confirm.

Diana nods. “That’s the one. Look, I’m not really meant to be talking about my cases, but I’m on the prosecutorial team and his lawyers are good. They’re trying to file a pre-trial motion that would—well, let’s just say it would be bad if the judge ruled in their favor. We’re scrambling and I’m needed back at the office, in person.”

“Shit.” There’s nothing else to say, really. She’s the one who can make sure Patrick Morgan doesn’t hurt anyone else, and that’s that.

“It’s awful timing,” whispers Diana, and there’s true regret in her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. You’re doing what has to be done.”

“I wish it didn’t,” says Diana. “I wanted to—I don’t know, go on a proper date and go to your friends’ New Year’s party with you, and this has just—it’s mucked it all up, hasn’t it?”

“An understatement,” says Steve, laughing wetly. Maybe—

“I have to call the ARGUS Foundation from the car, get everything squared away in regards to my commitments there. Gods, this is such a nightmare.” Diana’s pacing now, and Steve can see all their possibilities slipping away, now that she’s returning to the Netherlands. It’s not the most important thing, this casualty of what could have been, but it still breaks a little piece of Steve’s heart all the same.

“I wish we had more time,” says Steve, a little bittersweet, because there’s not much else to say. Diana sends him a sad smile and nods.

“I really have to go. I might even miss my flight as it is.”

“Right, of course.”

She looks at him hesitantly for a moment, like she’s going to say something more, and then pulls him into a hug. As she pulls back, she kisses him softly. It feels like goodbye more than any words could.

Then her phone rings, and she looks at him apologetically one more time, a quick, “I’m sorry,” before taking her leave and answering it. He hears her frustrated Dutch echoing down the hall as she walks away.

After she leaves, he feels a little aimless, and a little numb. It doesn’t quite sink in that Diana is gone, but he does think, absently, that something bad was bound to happen, because nothing catastrophic happened over the holidays—no real fights, no disastrous weather; it all went too smoothly.

**

The next few days are a slog: he’s back in the office, technically, but everything has slowed down substantially in between the holidays, just enough to not really keep him occupied.

It scares him a little how much he misses Diana. They were sort-of friends before the fake-dating charade, more friendly-coworkers than anything, but he got used to her being a part of his daily life absurdly quickly and is having a hard time adjusting back. They could have been something spectacular, he knows, if circumstances hadn’t made it impossible.

She texts him when she lands, and he’s glad to know she’s made it safely, but it ignites a fresh wave of ache such that he’s almost glad she doesn’t answer his text back, or text again. He ends up ignoring his phone, mostly, trying to distract himself from thinking about what wasn’t meant to be. (It’s bad luck with fate: if they’d had more time, if they were something real, he might consider moving, but it’s too soon, too early, even if he thinks he might already love her.)

On New Year’s Eve, he spends most of the day cooking, Netflix on in the background, whiling away time before the party Etta and Adrienne are throwing.

“Where’s Diana?” asks Etta, when she opens the door and finds Steve there, alone, carrying three tiers of Tupperware and a bottle of champagne, because of course she does. All his friends adore Diana too.

“She had to fly back to the Netherlands for a case,” says Steve morosely, unable to say anymore because he might choke up, and crying is fine but not during a New Year’s Eve party.

“Oh, what a shame she’ll miss New Year’s! When is she coming back?”

The fresh, stricken look on Steve’s face tells Etta everything she needs to know. “Oh, luv, I’m so sorry. I know long distance isn’t easy.”

It’s the perfect excuse presenting itself, really. In a month, Steve can say that the distance was too much, and Etta will understand, and that will be that. He’ll be out of this lie, too, with no one the wiser that it started as a fake thing. But right now, Steve is still mourning the fact that it never got to be anything real in the first place.

“It is what it is,” says Steve, trying for a smile.

“Well,” says Etta, also going for something resembling cheery. “We’ve got plenty of alcohol and a place for you to crash tonight, if you want it.”

“Thanks, Etta.”

He whiles away the night nursing a glass of wine and floating amongst friends and acquaintances, trying to enjoy the merriment. Etta, bless her, must spread the word that Diana had to leave for work, because only Noor asks after her, right after he gets inside. After that, he doesn’t have to answer any further questions, and instead focuses on the laughter and brightness radiating from his friends.

At a few minutes to midnight, he slips off to a quiet corner, not quite ready to face the rowdy, kissing couples.

Somewhere behind him, the apartment door slams, and there’s something of a commotion, but he doesn’t bother to investigate until—

“Did I make it in time?” asks a breathless voice.

Steve turns, and there, standing in front of him, a vision in a bright red coat, is Diana.

“But how—?” She’s meant to be in Europe, but she’s very much not. She’s here.

She’s here.

“We finished a little early and I got the first flight out. I took a cab from the airport to get here as fast as I could.”

“You hate cabs,” says Steve helplessly, fixating on something that’s very much not the point because it’s one of the many strange things they talked about, and because it’s somehow easier to focus on than any other part of it.  

“I wanted to be here.” Her eyes are twinkling, and Steve can’t quite believe she’s here, on New Year’s Eve, and—shit.

“But what about the case?”

“We got the motion thrown out,” she exclaims, delight lacing her words. “We’re proceeding as scheduled. I’ll have to go back for a bit starting in May, but—”

That phrasing catches Steve’s attention. “Wait, you’re not moving back to the Netherlands permanently?”

“What?” asks Diana, looking genuinely perplexed. “No! It was just a business trip, inconveniently timed. I was never moving back. Did you think—”  

“I thought—” says Steve, at the exact same time.  

There’s a look of recognition on Diana’s face, as if she’s doing the maths, going back over the conversations they had once more in her head. She bites her lip, shakes her head. Laughs.

“We are both a bit stupid, I think,” she says. “I was never going to be gone more than a week or two, but I suppose I didn’t make that clear enough. I thought it was just bad timing, since we were starting something, but you—”

Steve shakes his head, incredulous. “I thought I might never see you again, but you’re really here.”

Diana reaches out and ever so softly touches his cheek. “Yes. So, did I miss the countdown?”

Steve stops fighting the smile that’s building. “Nope. And you know, they say whatever you’re doing at midnight you’ll be doing for the rest of the year.”

“Do they? You’d best choose wisely, then.”

“I’ve got an idea.” The countdown hasn’t started yet, but he leans in slowly anyways, because he figures they’ve wasted enough time. She meets his lips eagerly, and in the background, Steve can hear Etta’s whoop of excitement, but really, the only thing that matters is Diana, and the feel of her lips underneath his.

It’s just as earth-shaking as it was the first few times, but they break apart momentarily as the countdown actually begins from the other room. When midnight hits, they kiss again, a little shorter this time, their smiles too wide to make it a proper kiss.

“Happy New Year, Steve,” whispers Diana, forehead pressed to his.

“Happy New Year,” he echoes. An endless plurality of shifting possibilities stretch before them, elastic and hopeful, and very real once more. From the other room, the chords of a piano start, a telltale sign that Charlie has started his traditional rendition of Auld Lang Syne.

“You know, eventually people are going to realize our anniversary isn’t in July.”

That elicits another giddy laugh, because somehow, he’s gotten lucky enough that this is his reality. “Yeah, but that’s a pretty good problem to have, all things considered. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“No,” says Diana thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t either.”

***