Post the events of 2x05. Warning, this does contain spoilers of everything in the currently-airing season.

Chapter 1

"They'll hear us."

"Only if you make me scream."

"You've lost it."

Laurel remembered every last dirty touch of what happened in Annalise Keating's basement. How could she be so desperate for sex just when he looked at her with those piercing blue eyes of his? Dammit, she hated herself for how easily she got turned on by him. He was good at sex— that was a given. But she really was falling for him, and it made it even worse that she couldn't keep her hands off of him.

She shuddered at the memory of when he turned her around and pushed himself inside of her. She remembered how badly she wanted it, and every desire of hers was filled when he did it. The way everything fell off the shelves from how roughly they were pushing each other around. God dammit, she had never had such thrilling sexual experiences in her life. It was different every time with Frank, and he never failed to please.

"Laurel, we turn right to get to your place, right?" Michaela asked, glancing from the passenger side seat to the back of the car, where Laurel was sitting.

"Yeah, but actually, I need to, um, I need to tell Frank about this stuff regarding the Hapstall case—" Laurel began to lie, but her friends (she actually didn't know if they were considered friends yet) were too smart to believe her.

"When are you going to stop pretending like whatever you're doing with Frank is professional?" Michaela rolled her eyes. "Are you forgetting that Connor and I literally saw you two leaving the basement. You could have at least been smart enough to get your hair out of your sweater, and tell Frank to finish buckling his belt before he left."

Laurel tried not to blush.

"Don't worry, we won't tell your dirty little secret to Annalise.. yet," Connor smirked.

"Oh, you think Annalise hasn't already found out?" Michaela scoffed. "That woman is way too observant to miss this. If we've noticed it, so has she."

She had the amazing opportunity to give Connor, who was driving, the directions to Frank's apartment, which she surprisingly had memorized. She knew it was a weird thing for her to know his address too well. Maybe she had been too reliant. She'd go to his apartment whenever she needed something, even about work. Rather than telling Bonnie or Annalise her ideas about a case, she went to Frank about it.

"Have fun 'presenting your ideas about the Hapstall case'!" Connor exclaimed in a mock tone while Laurel was exiting the car.

She found herself more nervous about knocking on his door this time, only because they hadn't talked about what happened that day in the basement. Luckily for her, Frank wasn't the type to overanalyze and discuss what happened between them, but she knew him well enough to know he'd at least mention it.

Honestly, she wasn't sure what it meant. She wanted him badly at that moment. He'd been pressing so hard for her to get to know him, and that sparked her attention: did he actually want more with her than sex? It seemed apparent. But then she'd dragged him to hook up in the basement, and that was that. What were they doing now? Going back to their sex-only ways? Dating? She honestly didn't know where to go with him next.

Yet, she found herself knocking at his door once again.

When the door opened, Frank stood there with his un-jelled hair, so messy compared to the way it was at work. She bit her lip. She liked his hair like that— free and loose.

"Laurel," he acknowledged.

He was dressed in a white t-shirt and his boxer shorts.

"Hi," she mumbled out.

"Back for more already?" he joked with a smirk.

He grinned at her before she could answer and asked, "Wanna come inside, or..?"

Instead of initiating sex with her right when she came inside, he pecked her lips, as if he was her boyfriend or something. She tried not to smile at that thought. Frank could never be a boyfriend, right?

"I have a question," he announced, and then took one of her hands, which was also a surprising gesture. Intrigued, she followed him back to where he pulled her, which was his bed. "Are you here to finish what we started earlier, or get to know me better? Either way, I'm in, but I'd just like to know."

She straddled herself against Frank's hips.

"Maybe a little bit of both," she answered, and let her lips brush against Frank's cheek.

Once again to her surprise, Frank laced his fingers with hers. It felt so abnormally romantic... They were holding hands? She wasn't sure if he did that with the other students he had hooked up with in the past, but she sure did feel damn special.

"How about you let me cook you some dinner, and if it's crap, we can order in instead?" he offered, hoping she wouldn't laugh too much at what he was suggesting, in case she really was just here to sleep with him.

And to his surprise, she smiled so adorably, and gave both his hands a squeeze.

"Frank Delfino is going to cook dinner for me?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "I feel like a guest of honor."

"Well, consider yourself one. I've never cooked for any other girl, besides my mother," he chuckled. "And I've also never asked any of the other girls to spend the night with me, so..."

"Are you asking me to spend the night?" Laurel blushed.

God, he was being so different. She honestly thought he'd be pissed about how she'd gotten him to forget about the whole 'getting to know each other better' thing so they could hook up, but he didn't seem mad at all. In fact, he was really stepping his game up. He was acting like her boyfriend, and at that moment, Laurel was seriously wondering if this could be a real relationship. It felt real.

She had spent the night at Frank's before.. one time. But he hadn't asked her to. It was back when they were just hooking up because they were sexually attracted to each other. And yes, they were still sexually attracted to each other, but something changed. Something developed. There were real feelings. Back then, she only slept over because they had gone at it for so long that they were both too worn out to care. And in the morning, she hurriedly rushed into his shower and headed to work— in that time she was showering, Frank had sneakily taken her phone and taken a sleepy photo of his shirtless self and set it as Laurel's contact photo for himself.

But now, he was asking her because he wanted her to stay. She was curious to what was going to happen that night. It felt like a date. He'd cook her dinner, they'd talk a little bit (and hopefully get to know each other), and then they'd probably have some kind of rough, unusual sex (which would make it feel more like attraction than romance again).

"You know the answer to that question," he rolled his eyes playfully.

"And you know the answer to your question," she rolled her eyes playfully back at him.

Unfortunately, Frank cooking dinner meant he would be abandoning her for a portion of the night. She was forced to get off of him and sit back in his bed all alone.

"How long are you going to keep me waiting?" Laurel whined when she visited the kitchen, wrapping her arms around Frank from behind him. "I'm getting lonely."

"It's almost ready," he told her, and then turned around to face her. He leaned against the kitchen counter, and Laurel looped her arms around his neck. "Are you hungry for food, or are you hungry for sex?"

Laurel rolled her eyes, but then chuckled and answered, "Both."

He began leaning in, and their lips were about to touch. She could feel his breath trickling against her lips, sending shivers down her spine. However, being the tease he was, Frank pulled back last second, and turned around from her, facing the stove again.

"Looks like the food is ready," he smirked, turning the stove off.

"You tease," she muttered, shaking her head half-jokingly.

"Come on, you're not excited to try my food? See if I'm a good cook?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Fine," she sighed, and sat down at the table.

He returned to the table with two plates, setting them down. He handed her a fork and spoon, and then brought the bowls with the dishes he'd cooked to the table.

"Here it is," he announced. "My mother's special recipe for classic fettucine alfredo, and a little something special I learned from my grandmother back when I was a kid..." He paused for a moment, and a childish grin appeared on his face. In his best mock-Italian accent, he continued, "...pasta primavera. And that's all topped off with this expensive-ass wine I bought, so no wasting."

His hilarious Italian accent caused a huge smile to curl up on Laurel's face. She never expected to be so close to the real person Frank was. It was honestly amazing to see him open up like this— something she thought he would never be able to do.

"Since when have you been so open about telling me about your past?" Laurel asked, raising her eyebrows. "Not that I'm complaining, because I'm really not. I'm happy you are. What happened to all the 'bad things' you've done?"

Frank's smile faded.

"I'm tryin' here," he shrugged. "It's best not to mock me when I'm making an effort. Remember, I've never done this with any girl in my life."

Laurel decided to drop the subject of the bad things. She wanted to take her mind off of the findings of the suitcase full of money. She didn't know how that was connected to Rebecca's death, if it was at all, but she didn't want to think about it. All she knew for sure right now was that Frank was making an effort to let her get to know him, and she was going to take full advantage of the situation.

"Maybe I've spoiled enough about myself for the night. Eat your food, tell me inform me it's crap or not, and then tell me who Laurel Castillo really is," he chuckled, stabbing his fork into one of the rotini pasta pieces in the pasta primavera dish he'd cooked.

She smiled again, doing the same as he was. She put the first piece of pasta in her mouth while Frank removed the cork from the wine bottle. He quickly went to get two wine glasses from the cabinet, and returned. When he came back, Laurel's eyes widened.

"Holy crap, Frank!" she exclaimed. "Honestly, I was not expecting the food to be this good—"

"I am to please," he chuckled.

"You can gladly cook for me any time," she told him. Her eyes gazed up into his. "At least I know if this thing we have is going anywhere real, I won't have to be the stereotypical woman that cooks. You'll do all the cooking."

The sincerity in Frank's eyes was so different than ever before. They lit up at the sound of Laurel speaking of how 'this thing they had' could actually go somewhere. He did want it to go somewhere, although he wasn't about to say it aloud.

"Now that you know the food isn't crap, go ahead and tell me something about you," Frank insisted.

She scratched her head, not knowing what to say. What was okay to say on a 'first date' sort of thing? Not that she was even sure this was a first date...

"Well, uhm, I like.. chocolate and.. my parents are from Mexico, and," she stumbled. Nothing she said could ever be as interesting as what Frank said, could it? He was so.. interesting. She was always dying to know more about him. "I'm sorry, I'm no good at this. I don't really know what to say! Can't you ask me something? I'll answer then."

"Fine, we'll take turns," he said, and poured some wine in her glass. "Where'd you lose your virginity? And when?"

Laurel blushed. Of course he'd ask about that. He was Frank Delfino!

"Seriously? You could know anything about me, and that's what you want to know?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. He shrugged his shoulders. "Fine. When I was 16 years old— almost 17— and it was after my prom. I went to an all girls' school, and my friends had gotten these group of guys from a nearby public school to be our dates. I ended up making out with the guy I went with to prom, and we had sex in the backseat of his car. Probably not the most romantic way to lose your virginity, huh..?"

Frank smiled.

"I didn't know we were giving this much detail," he blinked twice. "Okay. What do you want to know about me?"

"Have you ever been in love before?" she suddenly asked.

His smile again faded. He brought his own filled wine glass to his lips, and thought about it for a moment. Being in love. He couldn't really pinpoint exactly what love felt like. He had girlfriends here and there, but after high school, it mostly just became hook-ups. And his last 'girlfriend' Sasha was not love at all. She was just this random woman that he dated, and she had moved, but they hadn't talked about breaking up, so they just stayed together. But they never talked.

"No," he answered firmly. "I mean, maybe what a high school boy thought was love.. I might have loved my first girlfriend from high school, but only because I was surprised girls actually were into me."

"Aw, Frankie wasn't as confident as he is now?" she mocked.

"Shut it," he rolled his eyes.

The game continued all throughout their dinner.

"Favorite movie?" Laurel asked, looking up at him curiously.

"That's a tough one," he responded, chuckling. "It's a tie between The Shawshank Redemption and The Godfather."

Laurel laughed and commented, "That's so... you."

"Oh, what's yours? Some girly little rom-com?" he questioned.

"Don't be a misogynistic ass!" she joked.

He swore he got butterflies when she said that. It was so funny how that was the way this whole thing started— he was a jerk to her, as he usually was to everyone, and she called him out for being a misogynistic ass. People normally weren't bold enough to call him out for being an asshole, but she seemed to take that step quite easily. And it was funny because after that horrible beginning to this 'relationship' (or whatever they weren't labeling it as), they really got somewhere. Here they were, sitting in his apartment, eating a dinner he cooked, and talking about their personal lives and trying to get to know each other better by playing this silly game.

"It's Clueless, but I don't need your comments on that," she stopped him. "I have a really important question, but it's not exactly about your past or your interests."

He gestured for her to go on.

"Okay.." she bit her lip. "Do you have feelings for me, Frank? I'm sorry, I should probably be worried about how I could go to jail at any moment, but here I am, thinking about how you feel about me instead. And I think that says something about how I feel about you, so maybe it's your turn to—"

"Of course I do," he responded, cutting her off. "Is that actually your question?"

"It's more than that. I know you have sexual feelings for me, but what is this to you?" Laurel asked. "That's what I have to know. Do you have real feelings for me?"

He cocked his head to the side, raising his eyebrows.

"I thought it was obvious when I invited you to spend the night at my apartment, and then I cooked you dinner. Oh, and also when I told you that you've got to get to know me. Or when I told you that I'd do anything for you," he explained in that deep voice of his. "I think I've been giving off pretty clear signs, and I've been doing that so I could avoid having to talk about my feelings. That's something you should know about me. I don't like talking about my feelings."

Frank Delfino had feelings for her. Laurel bit her lip. She took the last sip of her wine, and then reached across the table to take Frank's hand. Their fingers locked again, as did their gazes. Dammit, he was in so deep. He hated how easy he melted when he looked at her. His entire hard-ass guard was dropping when he was around her.

He blinked twice, and a smile emerged on his face. He leaned forward, and pressed the softest kiss he'd ever given in his life down on Laurel's lips. His hands moved back, tangling through her soft brown hair. Most of the kisses she'd gotten from him during their 'fling' had been rough and sexual, all hot, due to the odd sexual tension they had. But it was so different.

After mutually pulling back from the chaste kiss they shared, they both stood up, knowing what was about to happen next. But Frank didn't have the same intentions he had when he was screwing her in Annalise's basement. Oh no, this was so freaking different. His hands were firmly placed somewhere inside of Laurel's locks of hair. Then, he leaned back in and pressed his lips against hers again. He lifted her up so she was straddled against his hips, and then carried her over to his bed, gently placing her down there.

She moved backwards, going towards the pillows, and Frank followed, climbing on top of her. He hovered above her, placing long kisses on her neck. She removed her own red vest, tossing it on his floor. His lips moved back up and met her lips again. Every kiss they shared during this time was slow and meaningful. There was no rush. It was just them now. The rat pack wasn't in the other room, capable of hearing them.

And he wasn't trying to make her scream. He wasn't trying to screw her so pleasurably. He knew how to pleasure a woman, and he had done it to Laurel plenty of times. This was about something much bigger than that. He hated the word, but it was the only way his mind could describe what he wanted: intimacy.

He pulled his lips back, a smiling creeping on his face. Then, he started to pull her sweater over her head, tossing it to the floor so it joined her vest. Her breaths grew heavier as their kisses began intensifying. He moved his hands to her cheeks, caressing them, and then brushed her cheeks with his thumbs, giving her a look he had never given her before. Her hands grabbed the bottom of his white t-shirt, and pulled it over his head. She tossed it on the floor, and then let her hands scrape up Frank's muscular, arched back until she reached his hair. Her hands ran through his messy hair (much too messy for the Frank she knew) as her lips came closer and touched his.

Every gesture felt so right and so romantic. It really was the first time they'd ever been so intimate while sleeping together. When Frank was there on top of her, gazing into her eyes, he was wondering if this could be the first time he was actually in love. It felt so stupid to be in love... but what he was feeling for Laurel wasn't usual or normal for him. It was so new. He'd never had these kinds of feelings running through his system, and he was honestly freaking out internally.

And that night, they were in this moment of intimacy. He'd never went so slow with her in his life— so freaking gentle, it was insane. This time, he treated her like she was his prized possession, instead of pushing her against the wall and taking her on like an animal. This was something meaningful. And he didn't know how it happened, but he fell for Laurel Castillo against his will. He was in much too deep. There was no going back. He'd never looked at a woman the way he looked at Laurel all night long.

They fell asleep. He didn't throw her out, as he did to many of the women he hooked up with. He didn't like to have them sleeping in his bed. But he liked it when Laurel was there next to him in bed. It made him realize how empty this apartment was when she wasn't there normally. He'd be in this bed all alone, often times thinking about her. But she was there next to him now, and he could wrap his arms around her and hold her against his chest. And that was what he did.

She was pressed against his chest, turned the opposite direction so he could spoon her, just like if they were a real couple. He knew he wouldn't do this to a girl he was just sleeping with. He wouldn't hold her so close while they slept. In fact, she would already be out the door once he got the pleasure he needed.

He couldn't figure out what the hell Laurel Castillo was doing to him.