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In the end, they'd settled on Karen's apartment rather than John's.

He'd pointed out that she has a better view, being two floors higher, and he'd liked how the light had come into the living room better on her side of the building. They're not things one might expect of John Reese -- or even John Riley -- but when it had come to deciding which apartment to live in, he'd done his best to set aside his CIA training or anything that told him one would be better than the other based on tactical advantages.

That's not what he wants his life with Karen to be about.

They're still spies, of course, in their way. They still work together on the sorts of cases the police department can't or won't take. He trusts her with his life on that end and he's glad to have her, to know they have that kind of transparency between them. But he still wants this to be their home together. Something separate from the jobs they both do.

So he's moving boxes out of his place, to the elevator, and then into hers. It's not a difficult move, he doesn't have many belongings and they don't need his furniture, but he's had to decline help from two neighbours now, telling them he's just about done, when in reality he just doesn't want them touching his boxes of weapons. Or spy equipment.

All the boxes are labelled books. Only one of them contains books of any kind.

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"That would be us spending a night surrounded by male strippers, drinking fruity cocktails," John answers with an arched eyebrow, because the guest list to this party would be relatively small, but Karen would absolutely be on it. Somehow he can't see them all, the two of them, Peggy and Dutch, in a strip club and when he tries, he can't help but smile down at his shoes. They're lucky that isn't the plan.

"I'd like to give her something she'll enjoy," he says. "But I've never been much of one for parties."

If John had his way, every birthday and date worth celebrating would drift by with little more than a nice drink and a quiet evening without any interruptions.

"See, all the more reason not to do it," Karen says with a teasing grin, elbowing him in the side. "That would just be awkward." She doubts she would actually care, but it's hard to see Peggy being interested in something like that, anyway. Karen can't really claim to know her well enough to know what she would want instead, but male strippers and cheesy accessories and girly drinks don't really seem like her thing. They definitely aren't her own, or John's. At least the cliché is something that can be ruled out.

"I'm not really much for parties either. At least not throwing them. I mean, you know me, my idea of fun is usually just... cheap booze and a game of pool."

"That sounds like Peggy's sort of party," he says. "Maybe I should put you in charge of the planning."

Peggy probably doesn't care who plans the party, just as long as there are no ostentatious sex toys present, like the box this Tony had sent to her. Karen would never do that to her and John certainly has no interest in buying anything like that either. Certainly not for a party anyway.

The elevator doors slide open on his floor -- soon to no longer be his floor -- and John heads for his apartment for the last little bit. "I was thinking we would do something like that. Something relaxed."

"Mm, no, you do not get to foist party planning off on me," Karen says, shooting him a quick, teasing grin. "You're the maid of honor, that is your job. I'm just here for... moral support? Maybe some tips?" It does help, at least, though it's unsurprising, that Peggy probably wouldn't want something too huge or elaborate. Imagining her at some stereotypical bachelorette party, wearing a sash declaring her to be the bride and a boa and a stupid cardboard crown or something, is a mental image that's hilariously incongruous with the person she knows. At least if none of them are interested in that sort of thing, it's unlikely the night will take that kind of turn.

"But relaxed is good. It'll be, what, you, me, Peggy, Dutch... I think we're all relaxed party people."

"You're always my moral support," John answers with an affectionate smile, unlocking the apartment door and revealing the last few boxes. In truth, the apartment doesn't look terribly different from how it did while he was living there or when he'd first arrived. The furniture is the same, the shelves had really always been bare, most of his decorations only in place to lead people to believe he cared about his living space. He's happy to leave them behind.

This place had only ever been somewhere to store weapons. It's Karen's apartment that feels like a home.

"We'll do relaxed," he says, piling boxes onto a dolly. The last few. "I think you might be the only person with whom I can do relaxed."

"Well, good," Karen says, her smile a little softer, too pleased to really be teasing. There may be plenty about John she doesn't know, will never know, but she knows enough to know how significant something like that must be. Hell, she's seen the weapons they brought into her apartment, and also recognized that where some people might be made uneasy by such a thing, she feels safer for having them around. The work they do can be dangerous. Hell, anything can be, and trouble has a tendency to follow her around — or maybe she just gets drawn to it. Regardless, it can only do them good.

"Then we'll definitely do relaxed. That's all the more reason, I think."

"Someone named Tony sent her a box filled with phallic decorations and sex toys," he says, glancing around the apartment to see if there's anything left behind. It's really just a cursory look, because John isn't the sort to leave any corner unchecked, and he's cleared out every last important crevice of this apartment. The rest, the furniture, the dishes, the things that were here when he arrived, they can stay exactly where they are now.

He hasn't had things in a very long time. Nothing besides his weapons.

"She was very adamant that's not something she's interested in," he says, laughing as he finally takes the dolly and begins to wheel it toward the apartment door. "And I'm not sure who Tony is, but he's invited to the party, despite his unusual gift choices."

"Oh, that would be Tony Stark," Karen says with an only slightly exaggerated groan, bringing one hand to her forehead. "Same one who's a good friend of mine. The guy who runs Panoptes." It doesn't actually surprise her at all that Tony would do something like that, probably because he probably knows that Peggy isn't interested in something like that. She loves him dearly, but his humor isn't always the most mature.

For one split second, she lets herself consider that, if she ever gets married, she'll have to tell him in advance not to go to any trouble like that for her. Then she puts the thought away, focusing on what's in front of them instead.

"This is going to be one hell of a bachelorette party."

"We'll see," John says with a laugh. He has to make sure it's what Peggy wants, no matter what Tony tries to do, so he thinks it might be a more sedate affair than that. Drinks and music and maybe pool and darts. Something as casual as possible.

"This is it, isn't it?" he asks, pausing by the door with the dolly. He shifts, slipping his hand against the small of Karen's back. The apartment was never anything special, it was just a place for him to store his things, but Karen's apartment is going to be different. It's going to be a place he shares with her. Something much more significant.

He feels good about that. He hopes she does, too.

"This is it," Karen says with a nod, smiling as she leans back just slightly against his hand. It's a big deal, taking a step like this, or at least it is to her. Though it wouldn't have bothered her one way or the other, it's nice to think that she isn't the only one of them for whom that's the case. This step is a big one, after all, one she's never taken with anyone else before. Doing so now just feels right, though, easier even than she would have expected. Whether that's a result of all the time they've spent together and nights at each other's places or just because of him, she doesn't know, but it probably doesn't make much difference. The feeling is the same regardless.

Looking over at him, she arches a brow, gently teasing. "Home sweet home?"

"Yeah," he says, then leans down to kiss Karen before he does anything else. The apartment doesn't have to mean anything to him for this to still be significant. Important. Taking this step is important without his previous residence having been a real home. John knows what he's been missing for a good part of his life. He doesn't need that to know what he's going to is so much better than what he's had.

This is a new chance. Carter had made that perfectly clear to him in the moments before his arrival. He knows it had been a hallucination, that he hadn't really seen her, but he'll still take the lesson she wanted to teach him.

When they part, he smiles fondly at Karen and then nods toward the elevator. "Let's go home."

"You know, I really like the sound of that," Karen says, smiling in turn as she starts towards the elevator. She really does, too. It just feels right, all of this, the way it has with him from the start, going back to the instinct that told her to trust him and stick around when he was taken to the hospital. It's strange to think about that now, stranger still to wonder what might have happened if someone else had stumbled across him on the beach that day.

No one did, though, so she supposes it doesn't make a difference. They wound up here. It's probably no crazier than anything else that's happened in Darrow, but it feels bizarrely fortunate all the same, lucky in a way she wouldn't have expected a place like this could entail.

"Probably a good sign, right?"

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