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After a kiss that's not one-sided, finally, and then a few more to seal Kat's confidence that she's not making it up, it becomes a lot easier to deal with Hale. Well, not easier than it was before they kissed, but at least she knows they're both on the same page. And that counts for a lot.
The only problem is, between heists and crashing high-society events and breaking into museums, there's really no good place to go for a first date. Kat tells Hale she doesn't care, because she's really happy enough holing up in his big deserted house and just watching a movie or making out on his couch for hours, but it turns out Hale has a traditional streak.
"Hire a caterer," Kat offers. "Private dinner, and then you can send them away and we don't have to go anywhere."
Hale gives her a look that seems to say 'I know I shouldn't judge your choices but that really doesn't work for me.' So no catering, then.
"I'd suggest we steal something, but..."
"Same old, same old," Hale agrees, surreptitiously sliding his hand around her wrist until he can lace their fingers together. She's glad she's wearing woolen gloves instead of leather—they're not so compact that she can't feel the warmth of his hand, unlike all the leather stuff. "You could break into my house again. I'd break into yours, but given your current living arrangements, I don't think that's a good idea."
Kat nods in agreement, and says, "Is that really first-date fare?"
"Maybe spice-up-your-sex-life material. Little backwards." He lets out a quiet laugh.
"I'm great at doing things backwards," Kat declares, ceasing to walk and turning to him. She doesn't point the spoon of her fro-yo at his chest on purpose, but pointing there it is.
"I know you are," Hale says after a beat, and tugs at her hand until her feet start moving again.
They've been walking around her neighborhood for almost an hour; they met a client earlier today, and Kat's pretty sure she's not the only one who doesn't want to say goodbye yet. Under any other circumstances, Hale wouldn't just drop her off at Uncle Eddie's; he'd come in with her. But this isn't any of those other circumstances. They only kissed—really kissed—for the first time last week. They talked about it four days ago, over the intercom when Simon was taking too long to hack a certain security system.
Uncle Eddie isn't home, or even in the country, right now, but there seems to be some sort of unspoken agreement between her and Hale to let some time pass before they're together alone within private property that belongs to either of them. If asked, Kat would maintain that it's all to appease Hale's weird traditionalism, but truth be told, she appreciates that they're taking self-imposed baby steps. And she likes the attempt to create a little mystery, not that it's in any way lacking.
It's December, closer to Christmas than to November. It's not snowing right now, but there's still some on the ground, enough for Kat to slip if she were wearing heels, which she isn't. In fact, the first first-date idea Hale had and she vetoed was ice skating. She can handle a little cliché—it won't hurt any, given the unusualness of the rest of her life—but, if Gabrielle can break her ankle by accident on dry land, there's no saying what might happen to Kat on skates without the adrenaline of a job to get her through it.
They get to her uncle's brownstone eventually, and sit on the steps. She throws out her yogurt container into a nearby trash can, and Hale cheers softly when it goes in. He draws closer as he does it, almost whispering in her ear, his hand creeping over her thigh. She leans against his side.
"I can probably get us into any restaurant you want on short notice," Hale says. "Legally, even." Kat turns to give him a sharp look. "Bribing the maître d' is de facto legal," he says easily, and she smiles.
"This is nice," she says. "Fro-yo and a walk around Brooklyn. That's pretty first-datey."
"Yeah, except for the part where it started by returning a stolen painting to its rightful owner."
"What are you talking about? That's the datey-est part."
He laughs. "That's definitely not a word," he says, and leans in to kiss her before she can fight him on that.