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For the past few months, weekly study dates--"study" "dates"--had been about the size and shape of Tate's friendship with Kess. Tate didn't often have time for anything more, and Kess had her own commitments. It was true that they didn't often actually study--hence the scare quotes around "study"--and there wasn't much but friendship behind it--Tate thought?--but she liked spending time with someone without any real goal. Her experience with movies had expanded exponentially, anyway. It was fun to sit around and make fun of Brendan Frasier's face sometimes.

The recent emphasis on movies in her life had led Tate to start paying attention to what showed up in the theater section of the newspaper; back in October she'd asked Kess to come with her to see Argo, since Parker hadn't really been interested and Tate hadn't really known who else she could ask. That had turned out to be fun, so when Tate noticed the new Bond movie (she'd always had a weak spot for James Bond) had recently come out, she asked Kess to go with her to that, too.

She thought it'd probably be a better idea to eat before going, this time. She'd missed at least five collected minutes of Argo because she'd been getting up to get more popcorn. Kess had suggested a Japanese place she knew of--and since the pair of them liked sushi, it hadn't seemed like a bad idea. Once the food got there, she decided it was definitely not a bad idea.

"I'm not saying that James Bond is terrible, I'm just saying that if you're expecting fewer than four plot holes, you're probably in the wrong franchise," she said, gesturing with her chopsticks. "The reviews say it's pretty decent, though." She really wanted to see if Q was as great as her Tumblr dashboard seemed to think. "I am going to bet on at least six explosions."

Tate grinned, quick and shy, and then seemed to remember the terrible fate apparently awaiting anyone who made eye contact with Kess for more than a heartbeat and looked back to her own sushi plate. Surely most people could actually maintain eye contact with attractive people for more than five seconds without feeling like they were going to blow blood vessels in their face? If they could, Tate appeared to have missed that gene, or lesson, or whatever. "Javier Bardem's got an interesting face, too," she said, for a topic change that wasn't really a topic change. "I'm not really familiar with his work, but I'm excited by what I've seen in the trailers." Because of course Tate had gone and watched every trailer.

She sighed and collected her chopsticks into one hand, rested her chin in her palms and stared at the mirror behind the sushi bar. "I bet the modern Bond movies would make a great drinking game," she mused, leaning sideways enough to cautiously bump shoulders with Kess. "Maybe we could rent them sometime? I missed Quantum of Solace."

She nodded, committing the movie title to memory. While not all of Kess's recommendations were keep-worthy, her taste in movies was very much in line with Tate's own--as far as Tate could tell, anyway. "Explosions and pithy comments," said Tate, "Definitely. I think I read a game once where you drank any time someone said 007, James, or Bond? But that seems... a little over the top." She wasn't sure, but fairly positive, that title dropping was not always worth taking a shot of what might be hard liquor.

"Drink whenever Bond breaks one of Q's gadgets," she proposed, turning her attention back to her plate of sushi. "Or loses it?"

Tate laughed (it wasn't a giggle, it was not). It was very Kess to have favorite glues, in her opinion; she couldn't exactly say why she felt that way, but, well. "I'll make a note of it," she said solemnly. It would make a great, possibly funny but definitely useful, gift. And the holidays were coming up! So, that was good, too.

"Excuse you," said Tate as Kess sniped the check. "I thought we were going Dutch?" It made the whole thing sort of uncomfortably date-like! Tate didn't even know if dating Kess was something she was interested in (she no longer lied to herself and pretended kissing Kess was something she would not be interested in, she just wanted to time it properly). Going dutch on things made it more obviously an outing as friends--or so she told herself. "I'm buying the movie tickets," she informed Kess as she shrugged her jacket on (winter had come early, simply to spite Tate, obviously). "And the snacks. I'll fight you for it."

The snacks thing was really just self-defense, though. Kess would buy just one bag of popcorn, and there were some levels of accidental personal contact that Tate could not abide.

Tate caught the mint reflexively--never let it be said a secret life as a superhero didn't do a lot for your peripheral vision and reaction times--and stared at it. You might need this later, like what was that supposed to even mean? Tate zipped up her coat as Kess shoulder-bumped her, and finally untied her tongue enough to say, "I've got a rewards card anyway, it's cheaper if I do it." Free upgrades to drinks and popcorn! yeah, she was all over that s**t. If Tate could afford it, she'd probably shop at BJs or Sam's Club too. She didn't know what she would do with a six-pack of Windex, but better safe than sorry.

"It's not like dinner was McDonalds," said Tate, hunching up her shoulders and rolling her eyes. "Sushi's expensive." Her tone said obviously so she didn't have to. "Fair's fair, and it's not like this is a date or anything." Please agree with me. Please please agree with me. If Kess didn't agree, that would just make things weird! And awkward! And Tate brought enough awkward to the table right now.

That was agreement, but it felt a little. Backhanded. Tate attempted to shove Kess into one of the newspaper dispensers on the sidewalk. It didn't work, not even a little, and Tate shoved her hands in her pockets and tried not to sulk too obviously. (It didn't work. She knew it didn't work. It never did.)

So she bought the tickets and she bought snacks and she joined Kess in the middle of the fifth row from the top of the theater's stadium seating. "Popcorn," she says, setting down the single bucket between them with a look that just dared Kess to say anything. She passed off the soda (two of them, separate!) and shed her coat and finally took a ******** seat. "I put salt on it." As if that was something to fight about. She watched the mini-Cooper commercial that came on with an irritated look, because that was exactly what she was: irritated. Not really with Kess, though. So. Better if she just looked irritated at the commercial, she decided.

"This whole 'off the beaten path, stick it to the man' lifestyle was a lot more appealing before the advertising industry commodified it," she said, finally.

The first comment brought Kess a half-second's nasty look from Tate, who could not abide people who talked during movies unless the movie was really abysmal, and she was finding Skyfall to be kind of fun, actually. So there really wasn't any call for talk, even if it was kind of funny. The fact that Kess's wisecracks were actually amusing just made Tate more irritated, and when the girls a few rows a head started giggling around the second quip, Tate just snapped.

She turned her head away from Bond's run through the subway tunnels and hissed, "Kess!"

Oh, that… that was the final straw. It really was. Kess knew it bothered Tate when people talked during movies. They'd been to see the theater enough times together that there really was just no excuse. None. It made her mad enough to spit.

Or, not spit. She reached across the very small space between them and grabbed a handful of Kess's hair, and for a moment she doesn't know whether she wants to pull Kess's hair or just pull her closer. She settles for pulling her closer and shutting Kess up.

By kissing her.

(Later, this would seem kind of lacking in logical development, but it totally made sense at the time.)