"Boss, wanna go out?"

You'd quickly switched comms as you choked on your coffee.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Come ooon. A date. Yes or no?"

Your eyes darted across the screen, checking if anyone was listening. No, you managed to switch to a private channel just in time; the rest of the team were busy with their own stuff.

If they could hear you two, they'd never let you live it down.

"Give me at least one good reason why I should go on a date with you, Invisigal," you said, setting your mug down on the coaster.

You heard her click her tongue.

"Because we have crazy sexual tension, and it'd be a shame to waste it?"

"Just do your job, Visi."

That was Monday. She didn't let it go until the very last working day of the week. Invisigal could be really persistent when she wanted something and it was within her reach.

"So? What do you say? Wanna go to a club?"

"Why—"

"A date, I told you!" Courtney perched on the edge of your desk, swinging her legs. "I know a place. It's awesome."

You rolled your eyes and shoved a folder of papers into the drawer. "A club, out of all places?"

Courtney paused for a second, biting her lip. "I mean… Yeah? Music, drinks. Sounds hot."

You had a vague idea Courtney had never been on a real date before.

──────────

"So, this is the place?"

Your feet buzzed from bass even before you reached the entrance.

Courtney grinned and grabbed your hand. Her fingers were warm, which was a relief after evening's chilly air.

"Trust me," she said, pulling you past the bouncer with a familiar nod.

To your surprise, she knew everyone here. The DJ waved; the bartender already had her usual drink waiting. Courtney navigated the crowd like water finding its current, and you let yourself be swept along.

She didn't lead you to the packed dance floor or the crowded bar. Instead, she found a tucked-away booth with a view of the whole club.

You tried to not think too much about the fact that she didn't want to overwhelm you.

"Okay," she said, sliding in next to you instead of across. "Rule number one: we don't get wasted. We get into it."

You raised an eyebrow. "Into what?"

"This." She gestured vaguely at everything. "The music. The moment. You don't need ten shots to have fun."

She ordered two sodas with lime, sliding one to you. "Watch."

So you did. She pointed out the regulars—a guy who always tried to hit on girls; a man who was drinking himself stupid, mourning his late wife; a girl who had the skimpiest outfit imaginable but when Courtney tried to shoot her shot, the girl politely declined.

Courtney knew a lot of stories, and slowly you started to get why she invited you to the club out of all places. Watching people living their lives to the fullest and being themselves on a dance floor was healing, in some way.

When a new song came on, she lit up, grabbing your wrist.

"Come on. This one's mine."

Before you could protest, she pulled you onto the edge of the dance floor.

What surprised you, again, is that she didn't try to press close or make it romantic. She just danced, tugging your hands to make you follow her lead. And somehow, you found yourself laughing and moving in her rhythm.

Apparently, it was nice to dance with Courtney, completely sober and aware of every beat.

When the song ended, she tugged you back to the booth, breathless and beaming. "See? That's awesome!"

And awesome it was, truly. It was Courtney's idea of a date—dance and have as much fun as you can.

You sipped your drink, watching her watch the crowd. You didn't even notice the moment your eyes stuck on her flushed face.

When she caught your gaze, you knew she looked right through you, "What? Wanna go again?"