It's been three days since his date with Lucy Preston and Garcia Flynn is still kicking himself for not kissing her properly at the end of the date. He tried to reason with himself that it was the gentlemanly thing to do, to wait until the second date. Besides, with the expiration date of her presence in France clearly laid out for him, maybe it was wise not to dive in head first with her.

But the familiar sensation of falling keeps making him forget to be wise.

He tries to shake off his self-remonstrations over dinner with Elise and Gabriel. But as always, his brother's keen wife senses something is off.

"What have you been up to while I was away, Garcia?" She pierces a potato with her fork, glancing up at him with interest. "Meet anyone interesting?"

His brow furrows and he wonders if she knows something. But then the innocent look across her face makes him think otherwise. Deciding he could use a female opinion, he goes for honesty. "I had a date, actually."

"Oh," Elise replies gently. "Anyone I would know?"

Garcia glances at his brother and notices he seems to be only paying attention with polite interest. It's not as though he would care, would he? Only one way to find out, Garcia tells himself.

"Lucy Preston."

That catches his brother's full attention, his fork clattering onto the plate. "Doctor Lucy Preston? As in the professor?"

Garcia watches nervously as contradicting looks appear across their faces- delight in the case of Elise and possible disapproval in the case of Gabriel. "I hope that's alright."

Elise jabs her husband in the shoulder. "Of course it is, isn't it darling? How sweet the historian and the archivist. A good match, I'd say."

Gabriel peers at his wife as though she's foreign and Garcia eats a few bites of food to avoid replying. At last, Gabriel nods. "Well, just don't go breaking her heart or anything. I would feel responsible if she leaves the country in tears over my own idiot brother."

"He won't break her heart." Elise says confidently. "So how was the date?"

"I took her to dinner at Le Lumière." Garcia states in a perfunctory tone, trying to guard his feelings. "It was the best night, I've had in a while. But at the end of the date, I fear I may have-"

"I'd rather be spared the details." Gabriel stands up suddenly. "I'll go grab more wine."

"Go on," Elise gestures.

He blurts it out, ripping off the bandaid. "I kissed her on the cheek."

Suddenly, Elise is leaning forward and swatting him with her cloth dinner napkin. "Garcia! What is she, your mémé? You needed to kiss her properly. With tongue, at the very least. I swear you Americans are all prudes! That girl needs a proper fucking and here you kiss her on the cheek goodnight."

"Elise!" Gabriel calls from the kitchen, sounding apoplectic. "This is my brother and my colleague you are talking about, please."

"He's just as bad as you are." Elise replies in a dismissive undertone before focusing back on Garcia. "Here's what you are going to do. You are going to take her invite her over for dinner. Cook something light not too heavy. Then you charm her with whatever that boring historical talk you both find so fascinating is and then you take her to your bedroom and-"

"I think he gets the idea, ma chérie." Gabriel interrupts, returning with the wine. He fills his own glass so high it nearly spills over.

"You know, Lucy and I had quite the chat over croissants. I can tell you all about her past… intimacies." Her eyebrows raise suggestively as Garcia notes her delicate word choice, gratefully.

Gabriel meanwhile is chugging his wine, shaking his head.

Garcia holds up a hand, feeling a bit indignant on behalf of Lucy's privacy. "I think I will pass. That feels a bit intrusive."

Elise smirks and then shoos him off. "Now go, call her. I can't believe you are being such a fool. If you are celibate any longer than I fear-"

"I'm going-" Garcia stands with both hands in the air, acquiescence. "I will call her on my walk home. Thank you, Elise, for your- er detailed advice."

Elise's overly descriptive advice keeps ringing in his ears later on when he calls Lucy. In fact, he feels grateful for the fact she can't see him through the telephone line because if she could, she would find red cheeks and fidgeting hands.

After polite conversation, he brings himself to ask her over for dinner. For a split second, he thinks of changing course and asking her to somewhere stuffy like the museum because the words "proper fucking" keep echoing in his head and it's making it hard to think clearly. But he manages to invite her, as planned.

Lucy agrees and the date is set for Tuesday.

His heart is still hammering in his chest by the time he hangs up.

Lucy looks a little awestruck when she gets the tour of his apartment. Thanks to his high-ranking position at the NSA and well-invested money from ages ago, he's been able to maintain a rather well-cushioned financial portfolio. So affording a two bedroom apartment with a view of the Eiffel Tower was no difficult feat.

Lucy stares out into the early evening light and then glances back at him. "I would never leave if I lived here. I would just teach my students over webcast or something- all while watching the sun rise and fall over the Eiffel Tower.

"Well, you are welcome to watch the sunrise or set anytime from here." Garcia from his perch beside her. Then, he excused himself. "I'm going to go check that our dinner hasn't burned."

As he serves up their plates, Lucy returns to the kitchen sitting at a bar stool before him. "Can I help?"

"Dinner is ready," Garcia replies, taking the plates over to the dining room. "What would you like to drink?"

"Whatever you're having." Lucy says good-naturedly.

The room's large window affording them the pleasant view of the pink-streaked skies, Garcia pours them each a glass of red wine and they settle into the tufted chairs at the dining table. The evening proceeds to pass similarly to their first date. Except for this time, there's an undercurrent of expectation and he feels a jitteriness that wasn't there before. Because before, he hadn't realized just how out of practice he was at dating.

The lack of courage to kiss her the first time around had proven that fact.

But dinner passes splendidly enough and soon enough they're sitting on his couch, just like Elise suggested.

Except, Garcia keeps picturing Elise right there in the apartment with them- pointing out that he's leaving too much distance between them, that Lucy should be in his bed by now, and that they are far too American for their own good.

He blinks hard, trying to get the image out of his head. As he adjusts his seating, following Elise's imaginary advice, his knee brushes Lucy's. It feels strangely intimate, the sight of her bare leg touching his own pant-clad leg. She's currently flipping through an old photo album of his mother's. Photos from a life he never knew- his mother out by a pool, baby Gabriel slung over her shoulder.

Then, Lucy's flipping forward to more familiar territory. A photo of his mother on her first day in Croatia, snow surrounding her. A few months later, arm in arm with the man who would become his father. Another snapshot, Maria's swollen belly captured in a silhouette, Gabriel's little hands pressing against it as though trying to touch his baby brother through the womb.

"It looks like Gabriel was pretty excited to get a baby brother." Lucy points. "Photos of me from when I was little and my mom was pregnant with Amy don't even exist. Apparently, I demanded that they put her up for adoption upon her birth."

"Ah well you were used to having all the attention. It's not your fault. Besides, you probably weren't old enough to realize that you are far too brilliant to be forgotten about." Garcia surveys her. "How much younger is Amy?"

"Seven years. A nineties child. Born right on the cusp of the decade." Lucy proclaims and Garcia deduces that she was born in the eighties. So perhaps she isn't terribly young for him. "She got to be the fun sister."

"Did she?" Garcia quirks a brow. "How so?"

"Well," Lucy leans back into the couch and when she does so, she's slightly closer to him now. "Amy was always far too tenacious to be told what to do. So Mom focused all of her parenting on me, picking out my college, suggesting who I date, even shopping for my wardrobe without me. Amy, on the other hand… She came home once with a nose piercing in high school and Mom barely even batted an eyelash. But when I put off getting my doctorate for one year she nearly had a heart attack."

"It sounds like she put a lot of pressure on you." Garcia lets his arm slide over the back of the couch and Lucy inches toward him, her head resting against his draped forearm now.

"She did but I suppose I should take it as a compliment. As a sign that she believed in me." Lucy shrugs.

"She was right about you," Garcia tips his head at her. "Look at you, you are clearly more than she could have hoped for in a daughter."

Lucy's eyes flutter shut briefly and he has the urge to lean over and kiss her. "I hope so."

She sits up and then shuts the photobook. "I think I've done enough prying, for now."

He looks at her wryly. "I'm the one who was prying."

"Not at all." Lucy shakes her head and then he watches her eyes drift elsewhere until finally, her gaze lands on his lips. "Even if you were, I wouldn't mind."

He turns slightly toward her on the couch, wanting to be sure his eyes aren't betraying him. As her teeth scrape against her bottom lip, perhaps a bit nervously, it's a sign to be brave. Taking a leap of faith, he leans down slowly enough that she has time to pull back and when she doesn't, he presses his lips to hers.

It's soft and slow but then, her fingers are sliding into his hair and he's breathing against her. The kiss deepens as his heartbeat becomes seemingly sporadic, a forgotten side effect of attraction. He lets himself shift fully so his hands are cradling her head, delicately.

Lucy tightens her hold on Garcia and he's urged to kiss her with more fervor. He lets his hands gently drift across her spine, feeling each crevice. His tongue entangles with hers and she entwines her arms around his neck. When they finally pull apart, a smile is on both of their faces.

It was better than a goodnight kiss could have ever been.

The night ends on a chaste note although Lucy eventually leaves looking as bedraggled as he feels. For his own sanity, he kept himself from tearing into the buttons of her floral dress. His heart is already miles ahead of his head and that seemed the best way to rein it in.

Slightly.

Because the next time she's back in his apartment, after a collection of dates spanning from museum tours to kissing in a cafe, it's gotten away from him again. This time, he doesn't have the good sense to keep his heart in check.

And Lucy, for all her self-proclaimed ungracefulness, is remarkably elegant as she turns from his balcony, backlit by the lights of the city. Her glass of wine is held delicately in her hand, like a crux, and there's a flash of desire as his eyes meet hers. He crosses the room toward her, letting the cool air tickle his skin as he joins her on the balcony and she leans up on tiptoes to kiss him. Her tongue quickly slides into his mouth and she's releasing a sigh onto his lips.

His hands come around to gently take the wine glass from her and set it on the little bistro table, all without prying his lips from hers. She's kissing him so deeply, there's no mistaking what she wants so he leads her into his room. The navy neatly made blue sheets, lonely from the absence of a woman's presence, are disassembled as she tugs him down onto her.

He has to pull back for a second, gaze fixed on her, to make sure this is all real. That it's what she truly wants. The whisper of his name seals his resolve and he lets himself fall completely.