freshoffthefarm | [AU] ... from the 'meet at a different time' meme

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[AU] ... from the 'meet at a different time' meme

After two years at the Agency, Annie's job hadn't gotten any better (or worse). Sure, it had it's downsides - namely, being shot at (or being shot), but the biggest one had to be the Agency parking lot.

She could never, ever find a parking spot.

Of course, the morning that she'd gotten up early and proceeded to spill coffee on her first outfit, had to jump start her car and then fill a tire with air? She managed to get behind the chatty son-of-a-bitch in the compensation car at the guard shack. She sat there, plotting the ways to key his car without actually getting caught and then he'd moved on.

Smiling at the guys in the shack, she showed her ID, waited until they'd looked under her cars with mirrors, and then picked up the pace on the way to the agent parking lot.

It just wasn't her morning.

The short cut she took through the visitor lot took her right past the spots in front for all the diplomats and the Agency hotshots. She didn't see Mr. Compensation trying to adjust his parking until she'd plowed into his rear bumper.

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He just raised an eyebrow, "Upgrade not midlife crisis."

And yes they were, "Besides, you seemed to find it very comfortable a few weeks ago."

It didn't stop him from opening the door to the car for Annie, then getting in on his side, and heading off toward the bar.

"Oh, God," she groaned, covering her face with her hands before she got in the car. Once he was in, she put on her seat belt. "That's right. I fell asleep in here, didn't I?"

She was a little embarrassed upon remembering and glanced out the window to hide it as best she could. As they pulled up to the bar, she raised her eyebrows. "This is a nice place."

"You did." Her embarrassment was rewarded with a smile. So at least it wasn't all bad.

"I like it here, dark, quiet, and open late." He parked the car in the lot then opened Annie's door to lead her to a quiet table near the back of the bar.

Annie stepped out of the car with the steadiness of a woman who had practice doing so from low angles in high shoes. It also made her legs look amazing in her dress.

"You like the dark and the quiet," she said thoughtfully as he led her to the corner of the bar, "don't you?"

"I guess I'm just more comfortable that way."

He assumed it came from decades of being a company man. Though he had found himself smiling more since Annie rear ended him.

"Does it bother you?"

"No."

She'd eased into the booth and taken in their surroundings before exhaling and finding herself comfortable as well. "I think it suits you and not in a bad way. It goes with the suit and the car and the job and..." She gave a small shrug and looked out over the room. "It's just you."

He nodded, "From what I've seen of your apartment it's a lot like you too."

Annie's apartment had a lot of light and was very open. He knew she had her secrets, but he somehow doubted she'd ever carry hers as long as he's carried his.

"I guess it is." She thought about it and nodded a moment later. "I've always traveled, always liked traveling. Lots of mementos, lots of memories, lots of photographs of places not here. Lots of open spaces, lots of light..."

She trailed off and gave him a bashful smile. "Just always kind of been who I am."

They were complete opposites based solely on their environment. All his life, he dated women that he should date. They were his social status or from his mother's circle of diplomats and friends. The exception to that was Sarah MacKenzie, but he realized too late of course, that he was just a placeholder and sometime verbal punching bag.

Annie was different than all of that and since none of that worked out, this might have a shot.

"I guess we spend so much time not being who we are that we have to express it somehow."

"That makes a lot of sense, I suppose," she agreed quietly with a simple nod of her head, still not really looking at him at first, then she turned her head and gave him a quick smile. "So. What do you drink?"

"In a place like this? A Manhattan, normally scotch and wine with dinner."

Or not with dinner depending on his mood.

"You?"

"Gin and tonic?" She could have said the same, but she was feeling a little old school, what with the whole lounge feel that they had going on. "Though, I like the idea of scotch, though not both that and wine with dinner."

And he realized he just made himself sound like an alcoholic.

"It depends on my mood. Usually it's just wine."

When the waitress appeared, he ordered their drinks and she went on her way.

"You're implying that sometimes your mood requires something a little stronger than wine, Clay." She watched him for a reaction and then added, "I'm not making a judgment."

"Sometimes it does. Comes with being one of those lucky few with my title."

Most recently, two weeks ago when Annie got home he had scotch, and five and a half months prior because he really wasn't convinced she'd come back.

He was glad there was no judgement, which made him feel a little better.

Reaching out, she squeezed his hand and gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "That's why they gives those titles to guys like you. People they know can handle it with only a little scotch."

She pulled her hand back as the waitress delivered their drinks and she lifted hers with a small salute. "To successful missions."

Clay clinked her glass carefully, so as not to spill his drink. It was a pretty worthy toast. "From the looks of it, you're good at those."

His usually turned out successful even if they hung on by a thread there for a while.

"Sometimes it gets a little rough," she admitted after her first sip, setting her glass down on the table and giving a shrug. "But who hasn't had one or two-" Or ten. "Of those ones, right?"

"Or more than ten in my case." He hoped that admission would make her feel the slightest bit better. "And someday, if you want to hear those stories I'll tell you as long as we aren't in public."

"Only if you feel like it," she told him encouragingly. "I know it goes. Well, maybe not whatever you had, but..." Her smile was gentle. "You can look it all up on Monday if you feel like."

It was all there, down to the time she'd spent in Iran.

"I took a look after you left."

There was a lot in there that would have left a lesser agent a lot more damaged. The fact that she wasn't said a lot about her, and without looking at that file, Webb wouldn't be sitting here now.

"I'm hoping that what you saw was a little impressive," she said, suddenly a little embarrassed. She had a feeling that somewhere in there was a hint of her insubordination and the way she liked to go off on her own and improvise a lot of her ops.

"It was very impressive."

He didn't mind the insubordination or the improvisation. It had a lot to do with why he thought she was a good agent, and he suspected why Joan thought the same. Annie got the job done.

Annie wanted to demure, object that it wasn't 'very' impressive, but she had a feeling that Clayton Webb didn't give out compliments just willy-nilly and that maybe, just maybe, she'd earned that one, at least in his eyes. It made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside and she nodded.

"Thank you."

"You remind me a lot of well, me."

She was right about the fact that he didn't hand out complements to just anyone. You had to earn it.

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