Summary: Everyone in the office is fed up with Amelia filing bogus complaint after bogus complaint on the new publishing rep, Ivan Braginski. Hopefully, Amelia appeasing Braginski with one date will stop his incessant pursuit of her, and finally get him out of her hair. Right?

This started as a kind of exercise for me to ease into writing smutty stuff for The Smartest Idiots You'll Ever Meet, but it kind of took a life of its own and I couldn't leave it unfinished. I'm really proud of how it turned out, and since it's my first time writing actual M-rated scenes, I'd love love love feedback.

"What do you mean you can't fire him?" Amelia whined as she slid down in her seat. The high back of the cheap chair dug into her spine, shooting sparks of discomfort down to her toes. Amelia only hoped it made her look like a martyr, tied to a fate so cruel and pitiful that it would make angels weep.

"Stop being such a goddamned bitch about it," Lovino said tactlessly, shuffling some spare papers into semi-neat piles. "My hands are tied."

"I feel threatened!" Amelia protested from her seat. "My work environment is hostile, just like those crappy videos you make us watch every quarter. Aren't you supposed to do something about it?"

Lovino stapled one of the stacks of paper at the pinnacle of his sigh. Woe is you, jackass, Amelia thought bitterly.

"Okay," Lovino pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let's go over this one more time, seeing as how it didn't stick the first forty-eight times." He ducked under his desk, rifling through one of his drawers for something.

"You're a terrible HR rep," Amelia muttered as she crossed her arms haughtily.

"What was that?"

"I said you have a comparable two-step."

Lovino looked up to fix her with a look that sang whatever, idiot.

"Right," he said slowly, coming up with a thick, bulky file stuffed with loose leaf paper and covered in sticky notes. It was held together solely by the joint effort of scotch tape and twine.

"Let's take a look shall we?" Lovino said in his best bitch voice. He swiped up a letter opener from his desk to cut through the bending, pulling out the first piece of paper. "This is from two weeks ago. Ivan Braginski made unwanted advances on me."

"He did," Amelia said defensively.

"He was delivering notes from the publishing office."

"See? Unwanted." Amelia tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "I'm an editor, why is publishing sending me notes?"

Lovino shook his head and picked up the next offense. "Braginski forced a sexual situation on me."

"Yeah," Amelia said, nodding.

"He told me he asked you to coffee."

"Yeah, in a creepy way."

"How is asking someone to coffee, creepy?" Lovino snapped.

"I don't know," Amelia snarked back. "He Braginski'd it. You know, weird eyes, Russian accent. I think it may have been a plot to kidnap me for a Russian prostitution ring."

"What kind of coffee dates have you been on?" Lovino sounded exasperated. He quickly waved his hand when Amelia opened her mouth. "For fuck's sake, don't answer that." He flipped through the file for a few more seconds. His eyes widened fractionally before his lip curled in something that had a hard time being categorized as amused or disgusted. "Personal favorite of mine. Braginski exposed himself to me."

"I'm so glad you brought that up. I still have nightmares about that Christmas party—"

"You mean," Lovino interrupted. "The Christmas party where you challenged Braginski to a drinking contest, lost spectacularly, and then pantsed him in retaliation?"

"How was I supposed to know he was raised on Vodka in the fucking Tundra? And who the fuck doesn't wear a belt to parties with alcohol?"

"So you're implying he should have known you were going to get wasted and attempt to disrobe him?"

Amelia flinched. "Well, when you say it like that it makes me sound stupid."

The pencil in Lovino's hand snapped.

"You know he could have easily filed a complaint against you that night but he didn't."

"Which shows you just how dumb he is," Amelia asserted. "Like I would go out with a guy who wouldn't report office harassment. As if."

Lovino pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Get out."

"God you suck," Amelia moaned. "Can you do anything around here?" She ducked to avoid Lovino's green-white-and-red stapler as it sailed over her head.

"Get out!"

"Fine, fine, Jesus," Amelia jumped out of her chair, scurrying out the door. She doubled back, sticking her head in the doorframe as she remembered what she'd originally came in to ask him. "So, you're still coming over next Saturday for poker night, right?"

She shut the door before Lovino's paper weight shattered her skull.

Damn. So Lovino hadn't been any help. But that wasn't anything new. The only person Lovino ever actually filed sanctions against was Antonio, but those always seemed to mysteriously disappear after their 'date nights'.

That left her at square one with Braginski, which was where she'd been ever since the publishing department had hired him over six months ago. At first, she hadn't even noticed a difference. She sent down her manuscripts, they got published, everyone got paid. But about a week after New Guy had started, he sent back Amelia's flawless babies, riddled with nonsense musings, jokes, and weird comments on the styling of the book. Does a comma really need to go here? What's the symbolism of the lame bird? Ugh, like she hadn't spent enough hours in the day riddling over her author's mistakes.

She hated him.

By the time he'd sent back her fourth project, two months after he had been hired, she wanted to rip her manuscripts to pieces, empty her jar of red pens scratching out the stupid, mostly inane notes that she was forced by company policy to read and consider before she sent it downstairs for a second fucking time.

If he found so much wrong with her editing, why hadn't he applied for the fucking editing department?

She exhaled steam as she sat down at her desk. The clutter of pens, paperbacks, and knickknacks, usually a fun source of chaos, now only seemed to reflect the current state of her life. Ugh, Amelia winced. Now she was thinking in metaphors. Those were for her authors, not her.

"What did Lovino say?"

Amelia smacked her hands to her face and groaned, peeking between her fingers at Alice, who was standing on her tip-toes to see over the divider between their cubicles.

"That bad, huh?"

"It's like he doesn't even care that I'm going crazy out here."

Alice scowled. "At least yours is kind of sweet."

"How is making my life a living hell sweet?"

"I don't know. Sometimes the things he writes in your margins are funny. I see you trying not to smile at them. And sometimes they make you blush. And he always puts his number in there, even if you throw it away every time."

"So?" Amelia said hotly.

"So, Kiku doesn't even know I exist," Alice said pathetically.

"Yeah he does," Amelia did her best to dreg herself up from her own pity-party to sound as consoling as she felt. I'm such a good friend. "You know how he is though, he's just really shy."

Alice sniffed, pushing her glasses a little further up on her nose. "Boys are shy, Amelia. I'm twenty six and I haven't gotten laid since Francis and I broke up."

Amelia winced in sympathy but felt like Alice didn't have much room to argue. Francis had dumped her like, ten months ago, and Amelia felt for Alice, she really did. But she was more worried about her own lack of a sex life. Ever since she'd landed the job as one of the joint-editors for the publishing house's adventure and sci-fi divisions a few years ago, she hadn't had much patience for men. Or time. Lately, she'd been kind of consumed with an irrational fear that her hymen had grown back from disuse.

"Amelia Jones," a sweaty looking kid from the temp agency paced back and forth among the rows of cubicles. "Amelia Jones!?"

"Over here, bud," Amelia waved a hand in the air, using the other to clear off space for whatever he was delivering. She hoped it was from one of her contract authors. They were always the worst at turning stuff in. Something about 'deadlines blocking the creative juices' or some shit.

"Here you are ma'am," the kid handed her a thick manila envelope. Amelia narrowed her eyes as she felt the weight of it settle in her hand. The opening drew her attention, showing where someone had gutted it, and then resealed it.

This looks an awful lot like…

Amelia hissed as she flipped over the package, her own scratchy writing denoting its delivery to Publishing Offices, Floor 21. Blocky, now familiar script along the top said, 'return to Amelia Jones: Editing'.

"Motherfucker," Amelia screeched. "This isn't the goddamned Postal Service!" The kid jumped and his eyes darted around nervously, mapping out possible exit strategies but not positive he was allowed to leave yet.

"Scram," Alice said from her perch.

The kid seemed thankful beyond belief as he booked it.

Amelia forwent searching for scissors and nearly ripped her thumbnail off as she tore into the packaging.

He manuscript—her beautiful manuscript—of Ages of the Wild Rose, a nearly guaranteed best seller by the market projections, fell out with a thud as she upended the envelope.

Alice watched silently as Amelia thumbed through the book. No red marks jumped out at her, no annoying post it notes. As it should, Amelia thought bitingly. This is my best book of the quarter.

But then…"Why the fuck did he send it back if—" a folded piece of paper fell out onto the cleared space of Amelia's desk.

She scowled and threw the book—well it would be a book if Braginski wasn't a fucking prick and just submitted it already—down. The paper was thick, some of their most expensive stock. It had to be custom ordered from like, India or something. It was lined with groves and uneven colorations, like the pages of the ancient books Amelia's dad restored.

"What does it say?" Alice said nosily.

"I haven't even fucking opened it."

"Then stop being such a twat and do it."

"One day," Amelia pointed at Alice with narrowed eyes. "One day, I'm going to find out what that means. And when I do, I'm going to beat your limey ass back to Wonderland or wherever you came from."

"Northumberland."

"Gesundheit," Amelia said as she unfolded the note. It was written in the cramped, blocky hand of the directions on the front of the envelope, and was probably Braginski's shortest note to her to date.

I heard you went to Lovino again today. One date, and you'll never have a complaint again. Promise.

A phone number was printed neatly below.

"He…" Amelia shrugged and shoved the letter at Alice, who snatched it up. Her quick eyes made sense of it in milliseconds.

"I think you should do it."

Amelia sputtered in objection. "Uh, how about no?"

Alice eyed her up magnificently. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Nope."

"Amelia, I saw you searching web MD the other day for signs of a regrown hymen."

Amelia jumped in her seat to do a 360 and make sure no one had heard. "Holy fuck, Alice! Not cool!"

"Neither is having your vagina rot away when a sexy guy is practically begging for you."

"Shit, I'm not using Braginski as some fucked up booty call to preserve my reproductive organs," Amelia shuddered.

"Then just go on a date with him. God forbid you have fun with a member of the male population."

"I have fun with guys all the time."

"Poker night with you're a) socially inept or b) gay friends is not what I meant."

Amelia worked her jaw for a few seconds, filing through her mental rolodex in an attempt to challenge that attack on her social circle.

Alice shrugged. "Yeah, point to Alice. So just go on a date."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because he—"

"Is he not good looking?"

"Well no, but—"

"Is he not smart?"

"No—"

"Does he not have a job?"

"No, but—"

"Is he a psychopathic killer?"

"That's debatable—"

"Amelia," Alice fixed her with the listen or beware stare. "You cannot keep hedging on Braginski."

"I'm not hedging on anyone!"

"You haven't been on a date since he started working here."

Amelia snorted. "So? Everyone around here sucks."

"What was wrong with that Toris guy from illustration?"

Amelia wrinkled her nose. "Too short."

"Ludwig, from corporate?"

"Too serious."

"That sweet kid, what was his name…Matthew? From the Toronto branch?"

"He was a sissy."

"Okay, see?" Alice folded her arms over the top of the cubicles and rested her chin on them. "You've found something wrong with every guy who's shown at least a little interest over the past three years. And the only thing wrong with Braginski is that he sends your work back a fraction of the time in a vain attempt of flirtation?"

"He's a dick!" Amelia stiffened. "My work is awesome, just the way it is. AKA, without stupid Russians making cute jokes in the margins."

Alice smirked. "Ha, you think he's cute. Look, get it out of your system. Go on one date with the guy. If it works out, hey, good on you. But if it doesn't you don't ever have to worry about him. He'll know he tried and he will accept it, like a big boy."

Huh, Amelia hadn't thought of it like that. On the one hand, the idea of being in a non-work related environment with Braginski kind of made her want to asphyxiate on her own vomit. But if she survived, he'd never send back her stuff. She could live out her editor happily-ever-after.

"Guys still buy on dates, right?" Amelia said as she dug through her bag for her phone.

Alice blinked at her. "Dear God, how long has it been?"

"A while," she snapped as she swiped into her dialer.

"Like, within the last century?"

"Duh," Amelia sneered at her. "I'm just thinking that if I could bankrupt him with my awesome appetite, I might actually stand a chance in court if he doesn't leave me the fuck alone."

Alice laughed good naturedly as Amelia tapped in the number from the note. She leaned back in the chair, flipping a pen in her unoccupied hand as she waited for him to pick up. I can't believe I'm doing this.

"Hello?" His voice was deeper on the phone.

"Hey big guy," Amelia said. There was a pause on the other end.

"Amelia?"

"Yeah."

"I-I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting you to call."

Then why even give me your number? Idiot. "Yeah, well," Amelia scratched the nape of her neck. God, she was shit at this. "Look, I was—Are you free Saturday night?"

"Free?" Braginski sounded like he'd been told the answer to a riddle but couldn't remember the question. "For what?"

"A—" Amelia looked around, making sure no one was listening in. She peeked up to make sure Alice had disappeared into the weird world of supernatural fiction behind the cork board. Amelia hunched over in her chair anyway, forehead pressing against the cool pine surface. She heaved a great, burden-ridden sigh. "A date, Braginski, what else?"

Something crashed on the other line and Braginski's voice sounded miles away as he swore. Amelia bit her lip to hide her smile. He'd dropped the phone. How cute. Wait—no. Nothing about Braginski was cute. A whistling sound echoed at her as Braginski picked the phone back up. "I, um, yes. That would be acceptable."

"…cool," Amelia said. What was she supposed to say now? "I'll text you later so we can work out the when and where." That always worked when setting up lunch with authors.

"Yes," Braginski said quickly, as if afraid she would change her mind. "That will be fine."

"Kay. Bye," Amelia slammed her phone down, not caring if it shattered in her haste to get it away. She just barely caught herself bringing up her shoulder to scrub at the right side of her face.

"And?" Alice's face cropped up once more, her smile taking up to much of her face.

"Saturday night date night," Amelia said without enthusiasm, turning to readdress her manuscript to go back downstairs.

Alice squealed. "Amelia has a daaaate! Amelia's going to get soooome!"

"Shut up," Amelia said weakly.

1:11 pm Amelia: Giovanni's on West & 9th around 8ish?

1:15 pm Ivan: Wherever you like, but make it…7 the latest

1:23 pm Amelia: can't stay out past your bedtime?

1:25 pm Ivan: Nyet, we have plans after.

1:28 pm Amelia: ok, where?

1:30 pm Ivan: Surprise..

1:31 pm Amelia: that's so lame

1:32 pm Ivan: (:

"I can't do it," Amelia nearly screamed into her phone. She fanned her face, trying to get her breathing back under control.

"Yes you can," Alice sounded sage, wise. She must have been drinking tea. "Have a good time. Decide to go out again or slam the door in his face."

"Do you know how long it has been since I've stepped foot in a romantic setting?" Amelia ripped a few tissues from the box and stuffed them under her arms. Of course she had to go with the sleeveless dress.

"That doesn't matter."

"Three years!" Amelia shrieked. "I'm freaking out, Al. I'm calling him and cancelling. I'll take a career of weird interactions with publishing, I don't care. I can't—"

The buzzer of her apartment went off. "One sec," Amelia wheezed out. "Coming!"

God, she hoped it wasn't the lady next door, come to complain about the sound. Amelia had explained to the co-op board about a million times that Led Zeppelin was her calming agent. But tonight it wasn't doing her any favors.

Amelia unlatched the door and started apologizing when a sharp slap cracked across her cheek. "Sunuvabitch!" Amelia's hand flew to her stinging face. "Who the fuck do you think…" she trailed off as Alice snapped her phone shut. "Hey, buddy."

"It is six-bloody-forty-seven, why the hell are you not on your way?"

"I told you," the panic started bubbling up in Amelia's throat again. "I can't do it, I can't. Not even for dinner and a lifetime spared of re-revised adventure novel, I can't."

Alice put her little hands on Amelia's bare shoulders and jerked her down to the Brit's level.

"Get out there," Alice sounded like a witch from one of her fantasy novels. "Be your awesome, bitchy self that he can or can't handle, and calm. The fuck. Down."

Amelia nodded. "Yeah. Okay, Mother Gothel."

"And please, for God's sake, try to get laid," Alice pleaded with her as she dragged Amelia into the hallway.

Amelia snorted. Yeah, right.

Giovanni's was the best Italian joint in town, which was why Amelia picked it. If she was going to force herself on a date, she was going all out. Plus, their breadsticks were an orgasm waiting to happen. Oh God, Amelia flushed as she brushed past the chipper host. Better to not think about stuff like that around Braginski.

It wasn't as packed as it usually was on a Saturday, but of course the real hustle and bustle would come with the later crowd. She kept her eyes peeled as she picked her way across the room, looking for any sign of her…date.

Well, that wasn't too hard, Amelia lamented as she spotted Braginski. He was nursing a glass of wine at a corner table. He took a sip and then his shoulders heaved with a deep sigh as he flicked his wrist to check the time.

A pang of regret shot through Amelia. It was unexpected, seeing as she had imagined feeling equal parts queasy and disgusted. Hoping he would choose to abandon his efforts after tonight didn't mean she had to be cruel to the guy. Maybe just being herself would be enough to drive him off.

She took the long way around to him, wanting to make it up to him for some reason. She was thankful her heels didn't clack annoyingly against the tile as she approached Braginski.

"Who ordered a feisty American with their Merlot?" Amelia tapped him on the shoulder.

He stiffened, but then smiled and placed his large hand over hers for a second. "Pinot Noir, actually." His grin widened as he brushed his fingers against hers and then lowered his hand back to the table. "I thought you were going to blow me off."

Amelia winked like she hadn't been planning on doing exactly that half an hour ago.

"Nah," she turned to sit down and stopped short as Braginski scrambled up to beat her too the spot.

"Please, let me," he said, drawing out the chair.

"Thank you," Amelia breathed, sitting down mechanically. A robot given instructions. "Sorry," she snapped out of it when she noticed him staring at her funnily. "Uh, no one's ever done that. With the chair, I mean. I'm kind of torn between being impressed or offended."

"No offense was intended," Braginski said lightly, but hurriedly, his eyes swimming with worry as if he was afraid she'd storm off in a feminist rage.

"None taken," Amelia said, surprising the both of them.

He gave the cutest smile when he was relieved. Like a kid who'd psyched himself out on Christmas morning, expecting nothing, and had then received everything he'd asked for.

The waiter came by to take their order and place another wine glass down for Amelia.

"So…" Amelia said into her glass. The semi-bubbly mood was gone, and her pre-Alice-slap uneasiness was starting to creep up on her again. "What are we doing exactly?"

Braginski didn't say anything for a moment. "We are having dinner," he said quietly before taking a hearty sip of wine.

"Yeah, but," Amelia twisted her napkin in her lap. "Like, why me? You know? I've been a complete bitch to you since you started at the publishing house. And you annoy the hell out of me and—"

"What is your family like?" Braginski cut into her rambling.

"My family?" Amelia asked, bewildered.

"Yes, the people who raised you. Contrary to talk around the office, you can't have been raised by wolves."

"You—" Amelia straightened. "Who said that? Was it Yao? Wait, never mind, never mind. Why do you want to know about my family?"

"It is an acceptable topic for a date. Not mindless gargle about why we shouldn't be on the date in the first place."

Amelia narrowed her eyes. How was she supposed to know? But he didn't seem to have a sinister alternative.

"Uh, mom was a small time lawyer, mostly family court. My dad was a book restorer."

Braginski seemed to hone in on the wistful edge her voice had taken. "Is that why you got into publishing?"

Amelia pursed her lips, tearing off a piece of breadstick. "I guess. I didn't have the patience he had. Which is weird, I know, since editing eats up a small piece of eternity. But I like pushing things out there that haven't been seen before. He liked putting broken things back together, making sure the books already in the world stayed that way. When my first copy of Little Women fell apart he was so mad that I wanted a new copy to tear up rather than learning to restore it on my own."

Braginski smiled, and Amelia took a break to throw in a few swallows of wine, liking the way it settled against her tongue, full and rich. She took his polite silence as an encouragement to continue. Damn, maybe I'm fucking awesome at this dating thing.

"Oh, there was this one time, though, that was pretty cool. Dad brought home this tiny little book, worn nearly to threads by this little old lady who hadn't stopped reading it for like fifty years. He showed it to me after he was nearly done, let me leaf through it. I don't think it was that special, just some little-known poet. Russian, though, I remember that, so I couldn't read any of it. And old. Like Tsarist old. Dad told me that the woman's brother had saved it from a community burning during communism's hay day. She hid that stupid book of poetry in her mattress for fifteen freaking years. She read it every night by an oil lamp until she saved up enough money to immigrate with her brother to the States.

"She stitched that book into her apron because she was so paranoid she would lose it, didn't dare take it out for the month of traveling it took to get to the east coast. And that's about as bad ass as the adventure novels I try to push through the presses. Except, it was a woman's whole life, in those pages. Her hope, her determination. People are amazing. Books teach you that, you know?"

Damn, Amelia washed another swig of wine down her throat. She couldn't remember a time when she'd talked that much without someone yelling at her to shut the fuck up, and she still couldn't believe that she was talking this animatedly to Braginski of all people. But it was nice. Maybe he wasn't too much of a pain in the ass.

Braginski sat back in his seat, a look of shock on his face. "That is the strangest thing," he said slowly. "Because my grandfather told us growing up about saving my great-aunt's favorite book from a fire…"

Amelia's jaw dropped. "Are you fucking serious?"

Braginski chewed on a piece of bread before grinning at her. "Absolutely not."

Amelia squawked at him. "Not cool!" She reached over to swat at his arm.

"Please, I surrender," he shuddered with laughter. "I couldn't resist."

"Yeah, whatever, Braginski."

"Call me Ivan."

Amelia felt her breath freeze in her throat. His eyes, clear and an impossible shade of violet. "Humor me."

"Alright," Amelia felt something near her stomach hollow out at the look he gave her. "Ivan."

His grin ate up half of his face. Amelia looked away and turned over her fork. "So, what about your family? I don't bare my soul for nothing, you know."

Ivan chuckled and laced his fingers together, but his eyes were guarded. Amelia got the distinct feeling that he didn't do this often. "I have two sisters back home."

"In Russia?" Amelia asked quietly.

Ivan smirked. "New York. I haven't seen them much in the past few years, but they're the most special people in the world. Our parents died not too long after my older sister finished college, so she just kind of…assumed the role of our mother. She even calls me every weekend to complain about me not visiting. But it's worse when she demands when I'm getting married. Vanya, when are you meeting a nice girl in that big city?"

Amelia laughed, knowing exactly how annoying that could get after the first fifty times. "Vanya?"

Ivan blushed a little. "It is a kind of…traditional nickname for 'Ivan'."

"Cute," Amelia smirked, tracing the lip of her wine glass with her finger.

She found herself almost envying Ivan as she saw the way he spoke of his siblings. They were obviously close. Precious, she thought as his smile turned small but didn't lose any of its sincerity, becoming just the hint of upturned lips.

She was almost relieved when the waiters came with their food, saving her from Ivan noticing how much she'd been staring. Or noticing how what his smile was doing to her insides.

So, it wasn't as bad as Amelia had originally thought. Ivan was fun when he wasn't in the workplace. They joked and told stories and talked about anything that came to mind and Amelia didn't have the urge to dial up Lovino and schedule an appointment once.

Which was just as well, seeing as Antonio had bragged on twitter earlier about getting ready for 'date night'. The bastard was probably getting his brains fucked out.

Ivan had just paid the check—waiving away Amelia's half-hearted protests—when he checked his watch and swore softy in Russian. A weird sizzle of heat peeled its way down Amelia's spine. She imagined him saying that again, lower, louder, helplessly, desperately—

Oh my God. Amelia stopped herself, trying to think of the string theory, three-legged dogs, anything that wasn't a man sitting a foot away from her.

Ivan stood up and walked around the table to offer his hand to her. "Come. We cannot be late."

"Yeah, okay," Amelia said weakly, taking his arm and trying to ignore the slowly fading ache between her legs. "I forgot, where are we going again?"

Ivan wagged his finger at her. "Ah-ah, nice try."

She pretended to pout, but didn't deny that she was suddenly looking forward to whatever he had planned for the two of them. As much as she would hate to admit it to anyone who had listened to her bitch and moan about Ivan for the past few months, she was having fun. Ivan was funny, he was smart, he had an adorable soft spot for his sisters, he'd pulled out her fucking chair (which she'd only seen on movies from like, the fifties), and he'd been so…engaged. He met her head to head, arguing and talking about everything from the best way to sell a certain reading demographic to if aliens existed. He even sat through her theory on Stonehenge, which even Alice, the resident Brit and nutcase, had rolled her eyes at.

She felt like she'd earned every second of his attention. Amelia chewed on her lip to hide her smile. Wait a sec…she hadn't felt this light feeling in ages. She sent out probes, little feelers to gage everything from how he was treating her, to how she was hyperaware of his movements. How his elbow grazed her side as he turned to maneuver through the front entrance. The weight and pressure of his arm linked with hers.

Oh my God. I like Ivan.

She waited a few seconds for the stars to burn out or any sign of hell freezing over. It wasn't the end of the world. Just…weird.

"You look very beautiful tonight," Ivan said as they continued walking into the heavy spring night. "I don't know how I forgot to mention that earlier."

Amelia hoped it was dark enough to hide her flushing cheeks. "You clean up pretty well yourself," she muttered. He does, she justified to the tom-boyish section of her brain that might as well have been miming shoving a finger down its throat.

His dress shirt was dark blue, contrastingly nicely with his pale complexion, and his slacks were fitted nicely. Very nicely. Or maybe he just had a really great ass. Either way.

"So," Amelia cleared her throat. "Are we getting a cab or…?"

"Nyet," Ivan shook his head dismissively, leading them around the corner. "It is only a few blocks away."

Amelia hummed, trying to remember the landmarks in this part of the city to narrow down the pool of destinations. It was one of the nicer districts, no warehouses or vacant lots that he might use his charm to lure her. She smirked, glad that the thought slid away like oil, not sticking very long. She felt comfortable letting him lead, content with trying to inconspicuously squeeze his arm or run her fingers along the few inches that might be considered accidental.

"Here we are." Ivan stopped, spreading the arm he wasn't escorting Amelia with outward in a grandiose gesture.

Amelia squinted to make sure she had read the sign right in the dark.

"The planetarium?"

"Da," he said excitedly, dropping her forearm in favor of catching her hand, tugging her behind him as he jogged forward.

"Is it even open?" Amelia asked as Ivan led them around the front of the building to a decidedly more dingy side door. It was marked in bold type letters employees only.

Ivan shook his head. "Just for us," he said as he pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket. His tongue peeked between his lips as he entered a long code into the keypad next to the handle. A few seconds later, a tiny beep sounded as a little green light flashed above the keypad. Ivan grinned back at Amelia and ushered her inside.

"Did we just break into a planetarium?" Amelia asked, trying not to giggle in the near pitch darkness that descended on them as the door closed.

"Of course not," Ivan said. "We have special permission by the astronomy department head of the local university."

Amelia cocked her head, wishing he could see the look she was sending his general direction. "And just what did you trade for that special permission?"

A tiny click echoed somewhere in front of her, and Ivan's face was suddenly thrown into relief. She tried not to stumble back; she hadn't known he was that close.

"He might have been promised a serious consideration for his first work of fiction."

Amelia stuck her tongue in her cheek. "And just what kind of fiction would it be?"

"It is a…very tasteful space opera."

"Dude, are you serious?"

"Da."

"I'm really going to have to read that garbage. Like, for real?"

"All for a worthy cause," Ivan promised, his smile growing.

"Yeah, we'll see about that," Amelia mumbled.

Ivan took her hand again, maneuvering around boxes and piles of broken wire and scattered pieces of computer equipment. Eventually, the came to the empty auditorium. Low torch lights nearly made Amelia's eyes tear up in relief. Ivan left Amelia and picked his way over to the control panel. She made herself comfortable in the first row, keeping an eye on him in her peripheral vision.

He was very obviously not a computer engineer. Amelia tried to stuff her fist into her mouth to mute the laughter urging to spring forth. It was so…uncommon to see him struggling with something he couldn't understand, his brow creased as he chewed his lip.

"You should stick to publishing books," Amelia said lightly when a quiet gasp of pain came from the front.

"Be quiet," Ivan said playfully as he sucked blood away from where he'd stuck his finger with a loose wire.

"Make me," she challenged.

Amelia half-hoped he hadn't heard her, worried that he would laugh at her lame attempts of flirting.

She sucked in a breath as he turned his eyes to meet hers. He's definitely not laughing. His eyes were, though amused, dark and filled with something thrilling. Ivan smirked at her and dragged his tongue between his fingers one last time, winking when he saw her fingers dig into the armrest and her eyes avert his.

The system whirred as it powered on. Ivan brushed his hands together triumphantly and sauntered to the front row, where Amelia was still pouting, refusing to look in his direction.

She tried to collect herself, breathing deeply and wishing away the image of Ivan doing anything with his mouth.

A solid weight draped itself around her and Amelia snapped her eyes up. The room had dimmed and Ivan was so excited he didn't scarcely breathe as he looked to the ceiling.

Thousands and thousands of stars starting making their home indoors. Galaxies swirling across her eyes, stardust trails of solar systems lit by millions of suns. She expected a silence of eternity to sweep over the room, but she could still hear her own awed breathing.

The system tilted and rushing inwards, zooming in on a peaceful looking spiral galaxy that Amelia remembered from science as their own Milky Way. A few moments later, the system had readjusted itself from an objective view of the universe to the sky that was just outside. The only difference was that no city lights or thick sheens of pollution or cloud cover obscured anything. Amelia was reminded of long summer nights spent on her grandfather's farm. She half expected a breath of country air to dust her cheeks.

"That's Pegasus," Ivan nodded to a hexagonal shape with a few outlaying points. "And Gemini, Hercules, Orin, the best hunter in the world."

Amelia nodded eagerly, trying to discern the heads of creatures, the legs of men, in a sea of tiny, seemingly insignificant specks of life.

"I can only ever find the big dipper," Amelia whispered sheepishly, as if not to spook the magnificent beasts and heroes that slept over their heads. One wrong move and seemed the stars would scatter into nothingness.

"Ursa Major." Ivan nodded and removed his arm from around her back. Amelia muffled a noise of complaint, but forgot about it when he returned to her hand, smoothing his thumb over her wrist, tracing nonexistent patterns of flame on her skin.

"What's your favorite?"

Ivan hummed in question.

"Constellation," Amelia clarified, a little afraid of how little oxygen was making it to her head.

"That's an easy one," Ivan pointed to what seemed like a dim emptiness pace. Amelia looked harder saw a small cluster of stars. "The Seven Sisters."

"I only see six," Amelia looked up at him curiously. "You seeing something I'm not?"

Ivan jutted his chin out. "Look harder."

Amelia sighed and narrowed her eyes, just barely making out the faint impression of a star that seemed to fading away.

"Why is it so dim? Is it dying?"

"That's Merope." Ivan's breath tickled the shell of her ear and Amelia failed to suppress her shiver. "She was the youngest of the Pleiades, daughters of the giant Atlas."

"The guy who holds up the sky."

She could see the curve of his smile in his chuckle. "Yes. They all married or had affairs with powerful gods, giving birth to great immortals. But Merope fell in love with a mortal, and faded away from her immortal place in the stars for the shame of her marriage. She even died and went to Hades with her mortal husband."

Amelia pressed her lips together. "Why on God's green earth is that your favorite?"

Ivan shrugged. "Heroes and kings are put into the stars for sacrifice and bravery. Merope was just as brave as they were, choosing to give up immortality for the man she loved. But she got kicked out of heaven for her sacrifice. Doesn't seem fair."

"She's crazy," Amelia determined. Staring at Merope until she seemed to fade completely into the background.

"For falling in love?"

"For falling in love with a mortal," Amelia bit back her smile as she felt Ivan lean even closer to her. The slow heat haze came back.

"What's wrong with mortal men?" He feigned hurt.

"Well," Amelia drew out the syllable, turning to meet his gaze coyly. "I guess they have a few charms."

He was so close. Amelia swallowed against the swelling in her chest.

"Like what?"

She wet he lips, darting her eyes to his and then his mouth. God she wanted him closer. She wanted…she blinked, startling herself. She just wanted.

"Like…they know exactly what they want," she whispered. Ivan made a small noise in the back of his throat.

"What else?" His eyes were half closed.

"They," Amelia shuddered. He leaned close enough that she could taste his breath. The spice of wine barely masked by a mint he'd been sucking on. "They take it."

"It?" Ivan's lips brushed against hers as he spoke, and Amelia fought a stupid whimper of desire. What a fucking tease. It was so getting on her nerves.

"What they want," Amelia trying to spell it out for him, doing her best to not smash their faces together. "I swear to God," she nearly cried in frustration as his mouth shadowed hers movements but refused to kiss her. "You won't have to worry about your mortality much longer if you don't—"

Finally, she thought as Ivan's fingers brushed her jaw, cupping it and crushing their mouths together.

His lips were a little chapped, but they were firm and hot against hers. He pulled back a fraction, inhaling before diving back in, his hands trailing down her arms, settling around her waist. She would have killed anyone who would've suggested she'd be making out with Ivan by the end of the night. But she'd kill him now if he stopped.

Amelia squeaked into his mouth as his fingers dug into her hips, lifting her up around the low armrest between them and depositing her in his lap.

Amelia tried her hardest not to combust, feeling more aware of everything than she had been in a long time. He tried to situate her as comfortable as possible, splaying her legs on either side of his thighs, pushing her flush against his chest.

She moaned as he hesitantly traced his tongue around the slight part in her lips. She greedily accepted him into her mouth, running her hands through his soft hair. If she looked through her slit eyelids it appeared silver by the light of the artificial stars. He ran his tongue along the inside of her mouth, sighing heavily when Amelia sought the same with hers. The movements of this old song and dance were clumsy and unpracticed, but it didn't take long for Amelia to remember.

She twisted her tongue with his, gasping for air when he ripped his mouth away, pressing open mouthed kisses down her neck.

Amelia's breath hitched as he outlined her collar bone with his teeth, and made his way back up, nipping at her jaw. Hot damn he was good at that.

"Oh my God," she whimpered when his mouth clamped on the juncture of her neck and shoulder. She fisted a hand in his hair, trapping him there.

"Fuck!" Something twisted below her stomach as he bit down, lapping against her skin. "Fuck, fuck," she twisted her hips, wanting to do anything to smoother the burn between her legs. She rolled back, feeling him hard against her ass. The feeling shocked her, and she stiffened, unused to it.

Ivan seemed to sense her apprehension, he pulled her face down to delve into her mouth again, leaving his love bite to fester in the cool air.

"Hey," he panted, tracing her face with the pads of his fingers. "We don't—I wasn't expecting anything. I mean, you don't have to. I'll be happy if—if you don't want—"

"Shut up," Amelia bit her lip, shaking her head. "I—I," she braced herself to say what she'd never imagined she'd say in her life. "I want to, Ivan."

"You're sure?" He switched to stroking her thighs. If his goal was really to deter her, he was not doing a good job.

"Yeah," she nodded, leaning in to touch her forehead to his. "Just…" she looked around, aware of the rough material of the seats, the weird angle he was bent to nuzzle at her neck, and the funny smell of dust that she hadn't noticed before. "Not here."

"Okay," Ivan said, running his hand through his hair, sounding like he was equal parts reserved and excited. He helped her fix her dress, which had hiked up.

He did his best to shut down the projections, but his thoughts where mostly elsewhere, and the Andromeda galaxy was still spinning in the corner as Amelia impatiently yanked him out of the building by his shirt collar.

The cab ride back to her apartment was laden with tension. Amelia from forty-eight hours ago would have used this as time to get her head straight, to rehearse just what smart and dignified wording she would use to accompany a door shutting in Ivan's face. Now all she could think of was the fastest way to get his pants off.

Ivan jerked and threw a wad of bills at the back of the cabbie's head, swearing as Amelia licked the shell of his ear.

"You," he said lowly as they climbed out of the taxi. "Are playing a dangerous game here, little one."

"Bring it," Amelia winked, not so much a seduction as a challenge. "Vanya."

Ivan's eyes nearly blacked out, obscured by his pupils. Amelia wasn't sure who started the kiss, but it didn't matter as long as they eventually stumbled back to her building instead of oncoming traffic. They tripped up stairways, nipping at each other frenziedly.

She'd only had two glasses of wine at dinner, but Amelia felt drunker than she'd ever been as she struggled to jam her key into the lock with Ivan pressed into her back, planting kisses behind her ear.

"Finally," she gasped as the door gave way, nearly breaking it down in her haste to drag Ivan in. He pushed her up against the nearest wall, driving her wild with that tongue of his.

"Bedroom, please," she moaned around a kiss. Ivan stopped.

"Say it again."

"What?" Amelia whined, standing on her tip-toes to nuzzle his ear. "Please? Please, Ivan."

"Nyet," he said gruffly. He pulled back so she could see his hair, disheveled from her fingers, and his lips, swollen from their kisses. "What you—what you called me before…"

A slow smile of understanding wound its way around Amelia's lips.

"Please, Vanya."

Ivan—a pool of heat radiated from Amelia's core—growled in approval. He reached down and groped her ass as he encouraged her to lift her legs, locking them around his waist.

They fought their way through Amelia's apartment, stopping every few steps to kiss or use some fixture as leverage to grind against each other. It seemed like an eternity had passed before Amelia felt him find his way to her room, and her back hit the mattress.

"I never thought this would happen," he admitted breathily in the pauses of the wet, sucking sound of their kiss. He splayed his hands wide, wanting to touch every expanse of her he could. Amelia squeaked softly as his hands came to rub her chest.

"Me either," Amelia said. She tugged at his shirt, untucking it and trying her hardest to control her shaking hands, managing to slip a few buttons out before he tweaked a clothed nipple between his fingers, making her gasp and screw her eyes shut. She struggled with the shirt blindly, whining in frustration until she felt him gently push her hands away and remove it, returning to his previous actions.

"My very first day," his voice was a dark rumble as she felt him ghost his mouth across her neck. "I saw you on a run upstairs." He slipped the skinny straps of her dress down her shoulders. "And you were laughing. Reading something in the margins." Amelia tried not to hyperventilate as his deft fingers found the zipper of her dress, teasing it down gently. "I went downstairs, and your laugh was still in my head." Amelia opened her eyes, only to stare back into his violet ones. He'd repositioned himself above her, his nose just inches away from hers. "I told some of the other guys about you. About how beautiful you were. And they nodded but didn't encourage me. 'Hero girl doesn't need anyone saving her. You're wasting your time.'

"But," he stroked her cheek and Amelia sucked in a breath, marveling at how he could set her ablaze with his touch, and warm her still more with his words. "How could this," he kissed her again, softly. "Not be worth moving the heavens for?"

A torrent of emotion swept through Amelia, threatening to pull her away. Phantom tears pricked behind her eyes and she blinked rapidly to get rid of them. "God," she choked out. "You're such a sap."

Ivan blinked, an expression somewhere between amusement and offense battling for dominance in his features. "But you wanna know a secret, Ivan?" She pulled him close, not wanting anything to be miscommunicated. "I like it."

He grinned down at her. "Good," he whispered before he started kissing her again, working her dress down and off her body. Amelia gasped at the contrast of the cool air and his hot hands as they outlined her stomach, digging into her back. He found the clasp to her bra and made easy work of it, tugging it off and dropping it over the side of the bed.

"No fair," Amelia whined as he kissed her breasts. She lifted her hips up, only to be met with the resistance of too many layers between them. "Take," she shoved him away. "Your fucking," she jumped him, straddling his knees and grabbing at his belt. "Pants off."

Ivan swallowed noisily as he watched her scrapple with the bit of leather. She tugged it free of his belt loops, and hoped she didn't seem too eager as she undid the fastenings of his slacks. The zipper buzzed loudly in their silence and Amelia's breathing went a little erratic. He reached between them and forced her gaze upwards, promising things with his eyes as he pushed his pants from his hips, turning his legs to wiggle out of them and kick them away.

Amelia's stomach went hollow. Fuck me, she bit down on her lip, eyeing the tent in his boxer briefs, feeling a pulse of want go through her.

"That's kind of the idea," Ivan said softly, moving towards her again. There wasn't much time for her to be mortified that she'd accidentally voiced her thought as he gently lowered her onto her back again, using his knee to spread her legs enough that he could settle between them.

Amelia's vision went white as his hips met hers, creating the slightest amount of friction that drove her crazy. She panted as she tried to circle her hips up, wanting him closer. She reached down and felt her fingers shake a little as they trailed down his stomach. She could feel his muscles tremble and flex as she delved deeper, slipping her hand past the waistband of his underwear, into foreign territory. She searched blindly for a second before he slipped into her hand, hard and full.

He stiffened, breathing harshly into her neck. A trickle of wetness damped her panties as she stroked him, marveling at the feel of him, registering his soft, breathy moans and how he tried to stop himself from bucking into her hand. "Ivan," she hissed as his head went down, his back arching so that he slipped through her fingers with a final shudder while he licked his way to her chest. Amelia's movements faltered a bit as he circled a nipple with his tongue, teasing it lightly before sucking it into his mouth. Amelia yelped, too turned on to want him to stop completely, but she wanted more. She wanted to feel him again. In her hand, rubbing against her, inside her.

Ivan tugged on the elastic of her underwear, discarding it with the rest of her clothes. Amelia fought off the tidal wave of embarrassment that washed over her, feeling the ages it had been since a man had seen her naked. She shuddered when Ivan's fingers tentatively touched her, dragging through her folds.

"You're wet for me," he ground out, his voice hoarse with a longing that Amelia matched. She nodded, nearly mewling when he circled her clit with the pad of his thumb. "Okay," she whimpered. "Okay, okay, stop torturing me for fuck's sake."

He smiled a little at her bluntness. "Next time," he rubbed his face against hers, scratching her cheek a little when he went against the grain of a few places on his jaw that were lightly dusted with the beginnings of stubble. "I'm going to make you scream with just my fingers."

Amelia rolled her eyes, hoping he didn't notice that she grew even wetter. "Whatever. Like I couldn't make you do the same with my mouth." He scoffed in disbelief. "If you're a good boy," she said, not really caring that she may or may not have just promised him a blowjob, pushing his underwear down off his ass.

"You have…" she panted as he ground against her, the heat of their nakedness misting her consciousness with a fog of lust. "Protection right?" She was on the pill, but she didn't go uncovered on the first date. She gulped as he rubbed his chest against hers, making her nipples burn with the contact. Usually she didn't go at all on a first date. She'd have to make an exception for Ivan though.

"Yeah," he pulled himself away, leaning over the bed to rifle through his pants. She couldn't complain at the loss of his weight on top of her. The view of his ass was fantastic. He sat back up, pulling a foil package out of his wallet.

"Hoping you would get lucky tonight?" she teased lightly as he settled back into his place, resting on his elbows to tear at the condom wrapper.

"A guy can dream, right?" Ivan smirked at her. Amelia breathed out through her nose as she heard the package rip and saw him cover his cock with it. Which was…Amelia flushed, considerably larger than her previous partners'. And that had been so long ago. God, that thing looked like it could tear her in half.

"Hey," she breathed as he positioned himself, the heat of his erection making her squirm as it poked at her entrance. He hummed in question. "It's um, it's been…a while so. Just um, be careful with that thing."

His grin turned wolfish as he nodded, prodding himself the teeniest amount in. Amelia squeaked as he rolled them over, leaving her on top and, in the jostle of their movement, him halfway inside of her. She clawed at his stomach, trying to find purchase. "Oh my God," she hissed at the slight burn that was monumentally different from the heat of her arousal.

Ivan moaned softly, his eyes mostly shut as he tried his best not to thrust up the rest of the way into her. Amelia grabbed his hands, fastening them to her waist, breathing deeply as she tested the waters, resting her weight mostly on the hands on his chest as she tried lowering herself further onto him.

But the burn was only worse, and rather than spend the next three hours painstakingly inching her down his cock, Amelia sucked it up and let gravity do the work for her. "Shit!" She gasped, feeling like she'd just willingly impaled herself.

Ivan reached up to stroke her face, smiling with mixed sympathy. "Practice will make this easier, da?"

"We can't afford not to," Amelia joked as she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to will the throb away. She shifted her hips, liking the way that Ivan inhaled sharply, his fingers digging into her sides. A few more moments of the gentle rocking motion and she could ignore the dulling pain, focusing instead of which direction drew the best reactions from Ivan. Their skin started slicking with sweat. She gathered herself, leaning again on his chest as she lifted her hips up a few inches and then came down again, grinding on him.

A small spark of arousal flashed through her as Ivan grunted, his hips rising up to meet hers. I've got the hang of this, Amelia thought triumphantly. A particularly sharp thrust upwards from Ivan made her gasp, and any lingering discomfort faded away, replaced with the heat of him, moving deep inside her. Amelia wished she had clipped her nails, the bright streaks she was leaving against his stomach looked like they would hurt in the morning.

"Can I?" Ivan almost sounded pained. His face was screwed up with the effort of keeping still, his hips trying desperately to bury himself as deep into her as he could, frustrated with this angle. "Please?"

Amelia nodded, liking the easy pace she'd set up, but curious. She moaned as he crushed her to him, trapping her as he rolled over, twisting the sheets on her bed around their legs.

"It drives me crazy," he said, grabbing one of her legs and lifting it over his arm. He pushed in again, grunting harshly as he surged forward, uninhibited. "Seeing you above me."

Amelia wished she could say something that would make him laugh, fix her with one of his looks. But all she was really capable of at this point was barely holding herself together. His deep thrusts threatened to melt her spine, dissolve the bonds that were holding her together. The room was too hot, sweltering with the heat between them and the musk of their bodies. Ivan had forgone trying to keep kissing her as his thrusts picked up speed, any attempt would probably suffocate both of them at the rate they had to suck in air.

"You feel so good," he moaned into her shoulder. Amelia tried not to come at his tone. He was a man appraising a god, worshiping her body, paying homage the only way he could, with his mortal desires of the flesh.

"Ivan," Amelia hummed. "Vanya." She could feel the shudder of his hips, the nearly panicked speed of his breathing. She could feel the knot in her stomach tightening, bringing her close, but not close enough. She bit her lip, content with letting him live up to the promise of his fingers afterwards. But she gasped as she felt his hand clumsily fumble between them, his thrusts stuttering as he rested his weight on just one arm.

"What are you—" Amelia's eyes nearly rolled back as he flicked her clit. Oh God, that's it. The tension in her body seized up, and the feel of him moving frantically inside her, the weight of him settling around her, the give of the mattress as his hips drove her into it over, and over, and over again. His fingers brought it all out in a wave, unlocking something inside her that made her toes curl. The world exploded, shattering into a brilliant swirl of light that reminded her of the spiraling galaxies in the planetarium.

She absently noticed him follow her from her place in the stars, his muscles clenching and his jaw locking. He buried a loud, throaty groan into the sheets as his hips bucked, emptying himself into the condom.

Time seemed to pick back up as Ivan forced himself to roll off of her, breathing deeply as he dragged his hands over his face.

"Holy fuck," Amelia found herself saying as she floated back into her body. Ivan turned his head to peek at her through his fingers. He blew out a lungful of air, nodding as he reached down to slip the condom off, tying a knot in it. He stood—a little wobbly, Amelia noticed with a smile—and threw it into the wastebasket by the door before turning back and collapsing on the bed.

"I saw that smile," he growled as Amelia playfully poked at his head. "You try fucking something that hard and see how you walk afterwards."

"Just glad you're functioning. Means we might get to do that again sometime."

Ivan's lips quirked up as he pulled Amelia closer, their bodies cooling. Amelia tugged on the corner of a disheveled sheet, burrowing under it and holding it out for Ivan, who quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Does this mean I can stay the night?" he asked hopefully, wrapping himself around her.

"You bet your sweet ass it does," Amelia sighed, settling into his arms. "I'm too tired to kick you out anyway."

"I'll take it," Ivan said around a yawn, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Amelia's stomach twisted a little, and she tried not to giggle like a fucking fourteen year old girl. "You have to make breakfast though," she said as she blinked slowly, trying to fight off sleep. He really was handsome.

"Deal," he said, his own eyelids drooping. They stayed silent, their only activity stroking various parts of each other, trying to sooth the other into the lull of sleep first.

"Hey," he nudged her suddenly, making her eyes snap open.

"Hmm?"

"You aren't going to change your mind on Monday are you? Lovino is starting to get pissed at me for all those complaints."

Amelia laughed softly, craning her neck up so that she could kiss him. Long and slow and satisfied. He relaxed a little, going back to petting her sides. "When you promised no complaints in your little note, you weren't kidding."

He sighed deeply, content with her answer. "Good," he said as they drifted off.

Holy crap.

I kid you not, I liked writing this story so much I wrote most of it in six fucking hours, practically nonstop in order to get it out of my head. Like I said, it just started out as an exercise to open a gateway for later scenes in my ongoing fic The Smartest Idiots You'll Ever Meet (which you should totally check out. And if you've already read it, thanks for viewing this fic).

I know Ivan might have been a tad out of character, and I didn't mean to bring slander to the great country of Russia but a lot of Rusame fics are dominated by this kind of sadistic sex life that a) I can't even begin to identify with at this point in my writing and b) didn't really fit the direction of this story. Most of my writings tend to focus on the human side of the characters, and really Ivan and Amelia may not see eye to eye, but to me they are just the sweetest, most adorable couple ever.

That being said, this was my first like, lemon (do people even use that term anymore?) smut whatever, so I would really like to know how well (or totally not well) I wrote it.

Thanks so much for giving this little guy a chance.