Paddy had muttered something unprintable in response.

Now, as he checked his watch for the fifth time, he almost considered leaving.

When the bell above the door chimed, Paddy glanced up. And promptly forgot every sensible thought in his head.

You stepped inside, brushing a few raindrops from your coat. For a moment, you looked around the room., then your gaze landed on him.

Paddy stood so quickly his chair scraped loudly against the floor.

Several people looked over.

His ears immediately turned red. You had to bite back a smile.

"Mr. Mayne?" you asked.

The slight French accent wrapped around the words softly.

Paddy blinked.

"Oh." A pause, "aye."

Another pause. You watched him struggle for a moment. It was rather adorable. "You are Paddy, then?"

"Aye."

You waited. Clearly he was meant to continue speaking as Paddy seemed to realize this.

"Oh. Right." He cleared his throat, "I'm Robert Blair Mayne- or Paddy You couldn't help it. A small laugh escaped.

The poor man looked horrified. "Sorry," he said quickly. "And you're..." He realized he hadn't actually finished his sentence.

Your smile widened slightly, "I'm your blind date."

"Oh." His ears immediately turned red again.

You pretended not to notice.

Eve had spent weeks insisting she knew the perfect man for you. She had failed to mention that the legendary SAS officer was apparently incapable of speaking to a woman without looking like he'd rather face enemy machine guns.

You sat down across from him.

For several moments, Paddy focused very intensely on stirring his tea. You decided to rescue him. "I think perhaps I am making you nervous."

The flush spread all the way to the tips of his ears.

That answered the question.

Paddy rubbed the back of his neck, "A wee bit."

This was not at all what you had expected. You knew who Paddy Mayne was.

Everyone seemed to.

Stories followed him wherever he went.

Stories of daring raids.

Stories of impossible missions.

Stories of a fearless soldier who never backed down from anything.

And yet here he was.

Completely defeated by one French woman having tea.

The realization was unexpectedly charming.

As the waitress brought tea, Paddy finally managed to settle down slightly.

"So, Eve tells me you're in the army."

Paddy glanced up, "Something like that."

"Something like that?"

A small smile appeared.

"I don't usually talk about work."

"Fair enough."

Silence settled again. Not uncomfortable exactly. Just cautious.

Paddy wasn't a loud man despite what people assumed. Around his comrades he could be fearless, reckless even.

But with you?

Every time you looked directly at him, he forgot what he was going to say.

Fortunately, you were patient

When he relaxed enough to speak more, you discovered he had a dry sense of humor hidden beneath the shyness. His Irish accent thickened whenever he became flustered. You found yourself listening for it.

By the time an hour had passed, conversation flowed easily between you.

You spoke about France.

About your family.

About books.

Paddy listened with complete attention.

Not the polite sort.

The genuine sort.

As though every word mattered.

Every now and then you would catch him watching you when he thought you weren't looking.

The moment your eyes met, he'd glance away.

Eventually you decided to be merciful.

"You know," you said, stirring your tea, "I am beginning to think my accent truly is distracting you."

Paddy nearly choked. You had to look away before you laughed again.

"It is not."

"It is."

"It isn't."

"It absolutely is."

Paddy groaned softly. You were enjoying this far too much.

"Aye, well." He looked down at his cup, "maybe a little."

You smiled warmly. His eyes lifted to yours.

For a second, neither of you looked away.

Something shifted then.

The teasing faded.

As you left together, the evening air was cool.

The streets were quieter than usual. You walked side by side beneath the dim glow of carefully shielded lamps.

For a while neither of you spoke. Then Paddy cleared his throat.

"I should tell you something."

"What's that?"

He looked down at the pavement, "I'm not very good at this." "At what?"

"This." He gestured vaguely between the two of you, "talkin', datin', or whatever this is." You laughed softly, "I noticed." His face immediately flushed, "Sorry."

"No, Paddy."

You touched his arm gently, "I think it's rather sweet." For a moment he simply stared at you. No one had ever called Paddy Mayne sweet before.

Dangerous.

Stubborn.

Terrifying, occasionally.

But never sweet.

The thought seemed to leave him completely speechless.

Which only made you laugh again.

The sound made something warm settle in his chest.

When you reached your front gate, neither of you seemed eager for the evening to end.

Paddy shifted awkwardly.

"I was wondering..."

"Yes?"

"If you might like to see me again." There was a nervousness in his voice that surprised you.

This was a man who routinely volunteered for impossible missions and yet asking a woman for a second date seemed to terrify him.

You smiled, "I'd like that very much." The relief on his face was immediate. A genuine smile spread across his features. One that seemed far rarer than all the stories people told about him.

As he walked away, you watched him disappear down the street.

Halfway to the corner, he turned back.

You waved.

His smile returned instantly.

And for perhaps the first time since the war had begun, Paddy Mayne found himself looking forward to tomorrow.

a/n : Thank you for sending this request—this showed a little bit of Paddy's shy and awkward side, which we rarely saw on the show, and it was fun to write. Thank you also for your very kind words; they are very much appreciated xx MASTERLIST