Until today, he never was really intimate with someone else. Sure, he had slept in a good friend's bed once or twice – mostly because they were the ones to shove him in there, he hadn't asked for it – but it wasn't the same experience at all. Until today, it was always at parties or during dire times where he shouldn't have gotten up from bed at all, so he can't possibly say this reminds him of positive experiences, far from it.

However, today, it's not the same. He's chosen to be here, he's (kind of) seen it coming, he's got no regrets so far, merely a little anxiety from jumping into the unknown in a field where he doesn't have scientific or life expertise. They just don't teach you relationships the way they teach you appendectomies, they expect you to know out of the bat or learn from failures that you could have probably avoided would have someone taught you about them.

What he's trying to put into words is that Dr Kasal should have taught him how he managed to get married to Cybil "Iron Vixen" Myers, because man would have that been useful to him right now.

Okay, not to get too worked up over this, he does know Angie a lot. He knows she likes warm drinks without too much sugar, she knows she loves stuffed animals and he knows she's a hard-edge professional with a constant thrive for improvement and perfection. This isn't really helping him right now, but he really needs to remember he's never been artificial around her. She'd have noticed it much earlier than now if he had anyway and would have harshly called him out on it rather than, you know, leading to their current situation.

He can't believe he's saying that about someone with whom his relationship used be tense, but Angie looks perfect right about now. Of course, she's not perfect, but he isn't in search for some inexistant perfect girlfriend who wouldn't be as a memorable as her. Hardships make the good moments better. For every flaw, he finds an excuse, he finds something positive without trying, he finds himself falling even further in love.

They're just sitting on her two-person-sized bed, their hands dangerously close to the other's, as close as they could be at this point. They're not really engaging in a conversation, merely indulging in what they like to do: he's got his laptop on his lap to play games, she's on her phone scrolling through social media and sometimes opening news articles or some language-learning app. It's a serene atmosphere that is very different from what they're used to at Caduceus where they're always running, always speaking – relaxing in every way.

When they're this close, he can feel the softness of her hair brushing against his exposed arms and the texture of her sundress. She looks different when, like today, her hair isn't tied into a ponytail: it's a good kind of different, the kind that gives life all of its necessary spice without burning your tongue until all you want to do is drink a gallon of milk and forget all about the incident (that was oddly specific). With how close they are, there's an idea there's no secret between them when they can't possibly know everything about each other. That takes time and a lot of talks – talks he'll be glad to have. Any reason to spend time with her is more than enough.

Angie's favourite fragrance is vanilla. It's exactly the scent of the hair mist she used today: he's known what it felt like ever since he decided to buy it for her birthday last year and he had never seen her smile so genuinely without tears forming in her eyes. Little joys – the bursts of happiness that result from the small things and the proofs of affection, have never been much of their thing, but if he can bring her these, then he'll be more than happy to do so. Her smile is worth so much more sweat and tears than he's ever poured into anything but exterminating GUILT.

She's told him about her love for vanilla, a scent seemingly so simple but complex in reality. He's noticed she'd always pick the vanilla-flavoured coffee at work (and getting mildly displeased when Caduceus Europe didn't offer it in their dispensers). They had the conversation once, in a coffeeshop during an off day in France when they were staying there between two conferences, and since then, it's never left his head.

Something makes her move enough that he feels it. They stare at each other, familiarly curious eyes looking into his.

"Wait, Derek, aren't you wearing the perfume I gave you the other day?"

Right, he forgot about that. He put it on because he figured it'd be a nice touch for their chill afternoon but didn't mention it because that'd sound forced. He doesn't want anything to be forced about them.

"Well, yeah, it's that one! It's the first time I tried using it, so huh… I may stink?"

Angie chuckles and, as always when she does, he melts a little inside.

"Don't worry, you didn't put on too much. Believe me, I'd have told you otherwise."

"That's reassuring to hear," he chuckles too as he scratches the back of his head. "I didn't want to asphyxiate you or anything."

Despite how awkward he must be right about now, she's smiling.

"I was right to pick nutmeg for you. It complements vanilla more than I thought it would."

It quickly goes to his head, never stopping to wonder. His voice, on the other hand, loses every ounce of fluidity it could've had.

"Wait, you… You picked it so we'd… We'd match?!"

God, his cheeks are burning and he wants to bury his face into his hands from how intense he's suddenly feeling. What happened to being lowkey and subdued about it?!

"Of course I did! It was too tempting. Plus, I'd thought it'd be a…" her turn to furiously blush. "a fun thing to match…"

This entire situation is an epic comeback from Dr Dense Stiles, as Tyler would say with a shit-eating grin on his face. Still, he tries to save face and to keep his calm a little. After all, they're both embarrassed, so it should be fine.

"You're right, it's… it's a funny thing alright."

"I said fun thing, not funny!" She replies pretending to be angry, gently punching him in the arm.

"Excuse me for my mistakes, then, ma'am!"

They end up both giggling like children at the absurdity of the situation until the spell has passed and serenity comes back, as soothing as ever.