"What's the plan for today?" Dayna asked, leaning her lower back against her kitchen counter. "First day free in New York and all."

Jensen swallowed her bite of cereal. "I think Miles wanted to go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I'll probably join him."

Dayna took a sip of coffee from a mug that had No Day But Today written on it. "You know that's a full day commitment to Miles being a dork, right? He's gone there every time he's visited here. And he still seems excited about it."

Jensen shrugged. "I've seen him watch Rocky."

Dayna snorted as she grabbed a pudding cup from her fridge and tore the lid off it. "Oh, so you've seen it all."

Jensen took another bite of cereal and nodded. "Him mouthing the words is a sight."

Dayna laughed. "Wait until he brings up the Unicorn Tapestries. Oh, man. I was shocked when Maddox told me he hadn't written his thesis on them."

Miles walked into the kitchen, a grin on his face. The hood of his sweater was pulled over his hair. "Did I miss anything?"

"We were just talking shit about you," Dayna said, licking pudding off the lid.

"Nice," Miles said. "Anything exciting?"

"Just that you're a fucking dork who likes to go to art museums on his days off work," Dayna said. She ate her pudding casually. Like she hadn't just insulted Miles' entire university career. Which, of course, she had. "And that she shouldn't let you drag her to the Unicorn tapestries."

"Because museums are awesome," Miles said. "And they took down the Unicorn Tapestries. Thank you very much."

"Which one are you going to?"

"Fifth Ave," Miles said.

Dayna scooped a spoonful of pudding as she rolled her eyes. "God, Jens, don't go with him. Jesus."

"Hey!" Miles said.

Jensen looked between the two of them. "Why?"

"Dayna doesn't like the painting I did for my thesis," Miles said.

"Miles picked a nudie 'cause he's a fucking horn-dog. It's in the Met on Fifth Avenue."

"Really?" Jensen asked, looking at Miles.

"Yeah, it's really on Fifth Avenue," Miles said.

"That's not what I meant."

"Look, I was twenty-five," Miles tried. "Being horny wasn't uncommon."

Dayna nearly snorted out a mouthful of pudding and erupted into a fit of coughing. "Oh my God."

"One more time," Jensen said. She bit her lip as she tried her hardest not to laugh.

"I... Oh." Miles' eyes widened and his cheeks darkened. "Yeah, I picked a nude painting. Is that what you wanted to know?"

"With a little added information," Jensen said. "But sure."

"I think she got a lot more than she bargained for," Dayna said.

"Am I really being judged by someone eating vanilla pudding for breakfast?" Miles asked.

Dayna looked around the kitchen and back to Miles. She placed a hand on her chest in mock sympathy. "Sorry, dad, didn't know you were visiting. How long are you here for?"

Miles groaned. "Booo."

"I think you're just jealous because you can't eat pudding," Dayna said. She pointedly ate a bite of her pudding while staring at Miles. Slowly. Like he was supposed to imagine the flavour she was savouring. Which Jensen was sure he wasn't.

"Don't you have somewhere to go?" Miles asked.

Dayna looked at the watch on her wrist, rings glistening in the light of the kitchen. "Eventually."

Miles sighed. "Are you already late?"

"Yup." Dayna nodded as she ate another spoonful.

"Jesus, Day."

Dayna shrugged. "I wasn't looking forward to the audition."

"That doesn't mean you don't go."

"I didn't say I wasn't going. I said I eventually had to leave."

"Get your ass in gear, dude."

"Someone's really wanting to go to his art museum, isn't he?" Dayna asked. "Don't get your boxers in a wad. I'll be out of your hair in no time."

"Thank you."

"I do have to say," Dayna said. "That this is my apartment you're staying in. For free. Just by the way."

"I appreciate your hospitality but that doesn't mean I don't want you to go away."

"Sounds like someone wants to use the Empire State Building, huh?"

Miles shook his head vigorously. "I absolutely do not want to use the Empire State Building. That's not a thing I will be using. No."

Dayna snorted. "Okay, squirmy. Sure."

"Can we drop you off so we can go to the museum?" Miles asked. "I want to use your car."

"Were you planning on asking?"

"I just did."

Dayna smacked his bicep. "Idiot."

"Ow," Miles said. "I'll pay for gas. Even though you just assaulted me."

"Absolutely you can use my car."

"Is the car running low on gas?" Jensen asked.

Dayna snorted. "You catch on fast."

"Come on, Dayna," Miles said. A groan escaped from his lips.

"That's what happens when you steal my car," Dayna said, holding her hands up in surrender. "I can't be held responsible."

"You would've left it low even if I had asked properly."

"I will neither confirm nor deny."

"You should confirm it. Because you've done it to me. Many times."

"Audition time!" Dayna said. She clapped her hands together. "Let's go!"

Dayna stepped on the edge of a trashcan, the lid lifting up so she could throw her pudding cup in while she scurried out of the room. Miles looked at Jensen, mouth agape. Jensen pressed the hand that wasn't holding her cereal bowl to her mouth to keep from laughing.

"I just got scammed, didn't I?"

Jensen nodded and a small laugh escaped. "I think so."

Miles shook his head, hands on his hips. He tilted his head to the side. "Goddamn."

"Come on." Jensen placed her cereal bowl in the dishwasher after giving it a quick rinse. Without really thinking about it, Jensen held her hand out to Miles.

Miles cleared his throat. "Um, Rhodes..."

Jensen looked back at him. Then at her hand. Him. Her hand. She pushed it into the pocket of her hoodie. (Not the NYU one.) (Although Miles had insisted she should keep it, wearing it around Dayna would've been like screaming look at this big secret we've been keeping from you for five months right in her face.)

Jensen swallowed hard. "Sorry."

Miles smiled at her sadly. His voice was soft. "Don't be."

Dayna walked back into the room, eyes looking between Jensen and Miles. She crossed her arms. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah," Miles said. His eyes lingering on Jensen—she was certain it was longer than he'd intended. When he spoke again, his voice was croaky. "I'll drive."

"You good, Vinogradov?" Dayna asked, her eyebrows knitting together.

"Who are you? My mother?" There was no teasing tone in Miles' voice despite him trying to kid around. He held his hands out. "Pass me the keys."

"Aye, aye, captain," Dayna said. The car keys were hooked around her index finger as she held her hand out toward Miles.

Without saying another word, Miles took the keys from Dayna and started walking toward the door. Jensen hoped she was imagining the slight slouch of his shoulders as he trekked forward. Swallowing hard, Jensen went to follow when Dayna grabbed her forearm.

"Hmmm?" Jensen said, stopping in her tracks.

"Is everything okay?" Dayna asked. Jensen wished the concern would wipe off Dayna's face. All it managed instead was to plant a pit in Jensen's stomach that made her feel sick.

Jensen nodded. "Fine."

Dayna narrowed her eyes for a moment. "If that... changes... let me know. If you need to... talk. Okay?"

Nodding again, Jensen was released from Dayna's grip.

Miles yelled, "For someone who was insistent on going, we're not doing so very quickly, Day!"

"We're going, dad!" Dayna yelled. She looped her arm through Jensen's and dragged her to the front door.

Jensen didn't protest. Quiet was all she needed. Quiet kept everything inside and didn't tempt her to yell that the last five months had happened and keeping it a secret was harder than she thought it was going to be.

Dayna led her past Miles, out the open door. Walking down the hallway to the elevator was something that Jensen had grown accustomed to in their time filming in New York. Dayna usually dove them to set and dropped them off before heading to where she needed to go for the day. Time Jensen and Miles spent during lunch breaks was about all the time they got to be themselves during the day.

Waiting for the elevator, Dayna looked at Miles. And narrowed her eyes.

"Take a picture, D-Money," Miles said after a few seconds of Dayna staring.

"Are you trying to distract me from the giant ass hair on your shoulder by calling me D-Money?" Dayna asked.

"What?"

Dayna dropped Jensen's arm and reached to Miles' shoulder, pinching a piece of hair on Miles' shoulder and pulling it off him. Too long to be Dayna's. Too dark to be Dayna's. Too curly to be Dayna's. Too obviously Jensen's hair. Jensen's eyes widened.

"Where'd you pick up that?"

Jensen didn't see Dayna look at her. She didn't see Dayna look at her. She didn't see Dayna look at her.

Oh, God, Dayna looked at her.

Not long enough to be fully accusatory. But long enough that Dayna's eyes said they were certain they already knew the answer to Dayna's question.

Had Dayna heard Miles come downstairs the night before? Heard him say he couldn't sleep? Seen him wearing that exact hoodie when he sat down on the couch so he and Jensen could talk until he was tired enough to sleep in his own bed? Maybe she'd heard him run up the stairs when he'd realized he spent the night on the couch with Jensen—they both had assumed Dayna was still sleeping, but no one had checked...

Panic building inside her chest, Jensen was about to blurt out exactly what she didn't want to announce—at least not in that way—when Miles spoke up.

"I was watching TV earlier," Miles said. Smoothly. Like he had the response prepared. "Must've picked it up on the couch."

Dayna looked at him. Like she was trying to judge her own brain—call him out or accept his answer. "When were you watching TV?"

Miles' face twitched. "Earlier."

"Uh huh," Dayna said as she dropped the hair to the floor. "Sure."

The elevator dinged as the doors opened. Jensen let out a breath—was that what saved by the bell meant? Dayna walked through the open doors. Jensen and Miles exchanged looks before Dayna turned around.

Miles' eyes were wide, like Jensen's. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. Jensen's eyebrows knit together. Miles motioned with his head that Jensen should go first, and she stepped into the elevator without saying a word. When Miles walked in, Dayna pressed the lobby button. The doors shut quickly.

The elevator trip was silent, as was the walk to the car. Jensen could already feel how cold it was outside, even in the parking garage. She clutched the sides of her hoodie and wrapped it tighter around her waist.

Miles turned up the music almost as soon as he turned on the car. He didn't even have his seatbelt on when he started pressing buttons on the radio. As he was backing the Jeep out of the stall, Dayna turned the radio down.

"You don't have to blow everyone's ear drums out," Dayna said.

"I wasn't."

"The bass is set loud," Dayna said. "Jensen would've gone deaf if you'd played that for the entire ride."

"I—" Miles sighed. "Sorry, Rhodes."

"It's okay."

"Are you okay?" Dayna asked, looking at Miles.

"Fine."

"Because that's what everyone says when they're totally fine."

"What else do you want me to say?" Miles asked, taking his hand off the steering wheel and holding it out. Like he was holding onto his question before throwing it at her.

"Well, you're acting like a penis," Dayna said. Without stuttering. No hesitation. Ripping off the bandage. "So, whatever's bothering you would be nice to hear."

"Nothing's bothering me."

Jensen wished he hadn't used that opportunity to look in the rear view mirror at her. She wished he hadn't managed to look upset even when she could only see his eyes.

"When you decide to stop lying to my face," Dayna said, "let me know, all right?"

"I'm not lying to you."

"Whenever you want to stop is good, Miles," Dayna said. "I'll be here when the truth wants to come out."

Miles sighed. Loudly. Through his nostrils. Demanding to be heard. "Where am I turning?"

"Next left."

"When were you planning on telling me to turn?"

"The next left."

Miles pressed the window to open it without saying a word as he merged across the traffic. Jensen's eyes widened and she stuck her fingers in her ears to plug them. If he was going to do what she assumed he was, she didn't want to hear it.

"What the hell are you—" Dayna started.

Miles leaned his head out the window while he drove, yelling loud enough that Dayna jumped.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Dayna asked, her voice like a growl.

Miles silently rolled the window up. "I'm good now."

"I—" Dayna looked into the backseat at Jensen, who was taking her fingers out of her ears.

Jensen responded to Dayna's questioning look with a shrug. Even though she knew exactly what Miles was doing. And she was just as frustrated as him that they weren't saying a damn word about their relationship.

Neither of them knew when they would be ready to tell. Neither of them knew why they weren't ready at any given moment. New York had only made it so they spent less time talking about it than they did before. Moments spent together weren't used to talk about things that stressed them out. They were used to be with each other. Mostly, it was eating lunch on set—which wasn't necessarily the most romantic thing.

Holly hadn't made the trip to New York with them, because most of the narrative set before and after the competition was set in LA. New York was for the competition, and Miles' character had left his daughter behind to compete; a reason for Jensen and his characters to fight when their relationship had been going well until that point. Miles had told Holly that if she needed anything, he was a text away. And so far, she'd asked him a ton about the industry. He answered them on not-so-romantic lunch breaks.

Jensen wished a seven-year-old they barely knew wasn't the only other person who knew about them. But it did feel nice to have someone who knew. Even if it was just one person.

Even if it wasn't Dayna, who Jensen was lying to by shrugging her shoulders like she didn't know why Miles yelled out the window.

"What?" Dayna asked.

"Don't worry about it," Miles said.

He looked at Jensen in the rear view mirror again. This time winking. With his left eye so that Dayna's suspicions weren't raised more than they already were. Jensen managed a small smile. For whatever it was worth to him.

Dropping Dayna off didn't take too much longer after Miles had turned left. She hopped out of the car without argument—Miles' screaming had ensured that. All she'd managed before running into the building was that she would catch the subway home if they wanted her car for the day and blew a couple kisses at both of them. Miles promised he'd make sure it was full when they brought it back home; which Dayna clearly didn't care about since she'd already sprinted away.

Once Dayna was through the door at the casting agency, a little more than fashionably late, Jensen got out of the car and sat in the passenger seat. Quickly, she buckled her seatbelt.

Miles looked at her and grinned. "No driving Miss Daisy today?"

Jensen laughed and gave Miles' shoulder a small shove. "Shut up."

Miles threw his head back and laughed as he began driving again.

*

Jensen and Miles had lasted about twenty seconds in the marble statues portion of the Met gallery before they started trying their best to imitate the statue. Miles had been the first to break their "no photos" pact at a bust of Geneviève-Françoise Randon de Malboissière. Jensen had put on her best side profile for the comparison. She pulled out her camera approximately thirty seconds later when Miles pouted beside Cosimo III de' Medici, the Grand Duke of Tuscany.

Making faces beside statues had become far too entertaining. Did they find them funnier than most of the children who'd been dragged to the art museum that weekend? Absolutely. Did they care? Not really.

Seeing Miles smile after screaming out the car window was all Jensen needed to feel better about the pit Dayna had planted in her stomach. They would tell Dayna eventually. (And Liberty.) (And the world.) On their timeline. One they decided and dictated. Exactly what they wanted, when they wanted it.

Miles gently took Jensen's hand as they started walking through the painting galleries. She spent most of it watching him. How his face lit up when he found something he loved. The way his lips moved while he told her facts about paintings that he'd learned in university. He squeezed her hand when he got too excited, and when he wanted to show her something "just around the corner." (Jensen found it even more endearing that he was right that it was right around the corner.) (She could've watched him run around art museums all day.)

If Jensen showed any interest in a painting, Miles took to reading the plaque for her since she hadn't brought her glasses. Which, really, was any painting Jensen peeled her eyes away from Miles long enough to examine. She could've listened to him read plaques all day if it made him as happy as he seemed.

"So, I have a confession," Miles said as he and Jensen wandered.

"All right."

"I didn't get Hamilton tickets."

"That's okay." Jensen would've traded Hamilton tickets just to see Miles' eyes light up like they were as they wandered around the museum. It was all she needed at that moment.

"I figured the closest we could get..." Miles trailed off as his eyes scanned around the room they were in. "A-ha," he muttered before leading Jensen toward a painting. "Is this. Ta-da."

Jensen grinned as she looked at the painting. Staring off into the distance in a grey suit and high white collar, a hand on what could've been the Federalist Papers, was Alexander Hamilton. In the painted flesh.

"Perfect," Jensen said. "Thank you."

"I'm sorry—"

"Don't finish that sentence." Jensen shook her head. The amount of smiling she was doing was making her cheeks ache—and she never wanted it to stop. "This is perfect."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

Miles smiled. "I'm glad."

Jensen turned away from the painting and looked at Miles. "Can you show me more?"

"You're not bored?"

Jensen shook her head. Still smiling. She couldn't stop, really. She didn't want to stop. Not when Miles was smiling as wide as he was, too. "Not at all."

"Follow me."

Miles and Jensen walked over to where he claimed his favourite collection of paintings—"on display," he'd specified—were. There were seven paintings in a row, all with creatures in vibrant colours with dark backgrounds. A series that was clearly meant to be together.

"If I hadn't been such a shit," Miles said softly, not tearing his eyes away from the art. "I would've done these for my thesis."

"Not the Unicorn Tapestries?"

Miles shook his head. "Those might be my favourite. But these... Paul Cadmus is a genius. He took the Seven Deadly Sins and just..." Miles held his hand out. "I mean, look at it. Imagine painting that. They're gorgeous."

And they were. Absolutely. Terrifying in a way that made them stunning, and stunning in a way that made them terrifying. Jensen felt like she could stare at them for hours and still notice details.

Jensen eyed the plaque beside the paintings. "Can I ask what that says?"

"He was talking about the series," Miles said. His eyes weren't even moving when he spoke—like he had it memorized. "And he said, 'I don't appear as myself, but I am all of the Deadly Sins in a way, as you all are, too.'"

"Holy shit."

"Yeah."

"You picked a naked portrait over this?"

"It's called Reclining Nude." Miles laughed. "And I was twenty-five, leave me alone."

"I'm just saying..." Jensen laughed with him as he squeezed her hand to keep going.

They wandered for a little while longer. Miles read plaques and Jensen listened to him talk. Sometimes she was certain he went off book, but she didn't mind. Miles talking about the things he loved meant his eyes lit up and he was smiling wide enough it interrupted words. Jensen would've spent all day listening to him.

When they had looped back around to where they started, Miles looked at Jensen. "Anything you want to see again? Or do you want to leave? I need to go to the bathroom if we're leaving."

Jensen looked around before spotting a gift shop. Which was exactly where she was going to find something she didn't really need, but just had to have. Or, at the very least, she could find a keychain for Liberty. "I can go to the gift shop if you want to go to the washroom."

"Sounds like a plan. Meet back here?"

Jensen nodded and headed off toward the gift shop. Met with posters and puzzles and keychains, Jensen was tchotchke heaven. It didn't take long for Jensen to find a keychain that had The Met written on it with a couple New York symbols that she was certain Liberty would love. And if her eyes hadn't drifted, that was probably all she was going to buy there. Until she saw something she couldn't just walk past. Not at all. Scooping it into her hands, Jensen walked to the cash register so she wouldn't dent her wallet any further than she had.

Walking back out of the store when she was finished paying, Jensen looked around for Miles before finding him patiently leaning against the wall waiting. His face lit up as she walked toward him.

"Ready to go?" Miles asked.

Jensen nodded.

Miles looked like he was debating with himself before he held out his hand to her. Jensen looked at him for a moment and he nodded. She took it and they began their walk out of the museum to find the car.

Jensen wished they had stayed inside. Miles would have been smiling and happy and there wouldn't have been so many flashes the moment they stepped out of the building. He wouldn't have let go of Jensen's hand and the flurry of questions never would have started.

"Is it true that you two are dating?"

"How long have you two been an item?"

"Is one of Hollywood's most eligible bachelor's off the market?"

"Jensen, are you just in it for the money?"

"Is this real or is it just a PR stunt for Sparks Fly?"

Jensen wanted to grab Miles' hand and drag him back inside. As they pushed through flashing cameras and too many people asking too many questions, they both shielded their faces as best they could. When Jensen dared to glance up, she could see a red blotch poking out from the edge of his hoodie. It took all her willpower not to take his hand and squeeze it until he knew she was there.

Jensen's stomach was in a knot as the questions continued. Cameras were shoved in their faces—both for photos and videos. God forbid someone miss the scoop that Miles Fox and Jensen Rhodes were dead silent when they were jumped by paparazzi while on a date. A date that no one but them knew about; but a date all the same.

Miles was picking up his pace and Jensen tried her best to keep up with him. His strides were longer when he wanted them to be. At that moment, Jensen was sure he wasn't focused on whether they could walk at the same time; more that his fight or flight was kicking in and he wanted to get the hell out of dodge.

Each step Jensen took to keep up with Miles was mirrored by paparazzi wanted to get a scoop on what her and Miles "were" to each other. Jensen felt like she was going to vomit. Maybe she was—although she really hoped she didn't. The last thing she wanted was to land herself on a cover for that.

Getting to Dayna's Jeep felt like it took forever. It could've been twelve years or twelve minutes. Jensen's mind was a blur of flashes and only flashes. Nothing else registered. Even the questions had grown so loud, they tuned each other out.

Miles clicked the car doors open and shut so quickly, Jensen barely had the door open before it was locked again. As Miles clicked his seatbelt on, Jensen stared at him. His neck was covered in red blotches, pupils dilated.

"Are you okay to drive?" Jensen asked.

"We're already in here," Miles said. She wished there was a way she could make his voice stop shaking. He started the car. "I'm going to have to be."

"Miles—"

"It's fine, Jensen." Miles put his arm on the back of her seat as he backed out of the stall. "I just... we gotta go. Now. It'll... be fine."

Miles was silent as he drove. Jensen made sure her seatbelt was on before Miles exited the parking lot. His breathing was slow, calculated. Like he was trying to make sure he didn't breathe too quickly. Driving with one hand, he scratched at a blotch on his neck.

"You're going to scratch yourself raw, babe," Jensen said softly.

She reached up and took his hand gently. Away from his neck was what he needed. Miles squeezed on her hand like his life depended on it. Jensen hoped it didn't, but there wasn't much else she could offer if he wasn't going to let her drive.

"I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't know this was how today was going to go." Miles looked in the rear view mirror. "Fuck... I think I know a back way to Dayna's apartment."

"This isn't your fault. Please don't apologize."

"It's kind of my fault."

"Did you call them?" Jensen asked. "Tip them off? Scream hey I'm over here, come take pictures of me and my secret girlfriend?"

"Well, no—"

"It's not your fault."

"Jensen—"

"It's not your fault," Jensen said. She kissed the back of his hand. It was about the only thing she could kiss that wouldn't drive them off the road. "Not in the slightest. I promise."

Miles took a deep breath. Exhaled. Repeated a couple times. And nodded. "Okay."

Jensen kissed the back of his hand again. The rest of the ride back was silent. Miles only freed his hand from Jensen's to turn the radio up so neither of them felt obligated to talk. He quickly found her hand again afterwards. Continuing to squeeze as he darted down roads Jensen didn't think they'd been on before and forced himself into lanes he didn't belong in.

She was only reassured when the squeezing started to subside. Little by little. Tension loosened in Miles' shoulders the moment he tapped Dayna's parking pass and drove into the underground. Miles had barely put the car in park and taken his seatbelt off before he wrapped his arms tightly around Jensen and buried his face in her shoulder.

Jensen held him, arms around him. Hand gently rubbing in between his shoulder blades. She could feel him shaking under her fingertips and held him tight enough to reassure him but loose enough she wasn't going to worry she was hurting him.

"It's okay," Jensen whispered.

Miles held the fabric of Jensen's hoodie in balled fists. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. Jensen held him until he was the one to pull away. Sitting back up, Miles wiped a finger under his eye.

"I..." Jensen's voice was quiet. "I got you something."

Miles looked at her. "What?"

"It's... stupid. But I thought it was cute," Jensen said. "And I couldn't just walk past it. Um—" Jensen undid her seatbelt so it was easier for her to reach the gift shop bag.

"Rhodes, you didn't have—"

"I know," Jensen said. Sitting up as she pulled her purchase out of the bag. Miles' eyes lit up, which was exactly what she'd hoped for; just not in that circumstance. "But I wanted to."

"That's a unicorn," Miles said. "Like the tapestries."

Jensen nodded, holding the small stuffed unicorn out toward him. Miles smiled and took it gently from her hands. He leaned forward and gave her a kiss. Light. Relieved. Happy.

Jensen smiled softly when he pulled away. "I take it you like it?"

Miles nodded. "I love it. Thank you."

He gave her another kiss, on the forehead that time. When he pulled it away, he held it to his chest and pressed his chin against it. Arms wrapped tightly around it. Taking deep breaths.

In that moment, everything sat still. Jensen could've sat there with him for hours.