Let The Dominoes Fall - Ch. 5
Title:Let The Dominoes Fall
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Law & Order: SVU & Dexter
Pairings: Buff/Will, Alex/Olivia & Debra/OC
Rating: R - Deb’s got a bad case of Potty Mouth and it ain’t lookin’ to change soon.
Disclaimer: See previous…we all know the drill. If they were mine, I’d be doing back flips.
A/N: For this chapter, not so much. Read enjoy or do whatever you do if it’s not enjoy, but if you don’t enjoy it then why read it. If the latter is the case, it may call into question certain masochistic tendencies that may lay lead to unhealthy acting out…just sayin’ is all… =0) And while I’m thinking of it…this has been beta’s but I’m sure I’ve goofed somewhere after I got the file back, so all mistakes belong to me.
Ch. 5 - You Want It, You Got It
Buffy spins the stained Oak spice rack that Willow insisted they purchase the last time they went up state, her mouth screws to the side as she searches for the allspice and cumin her wife asked for. They have another hour before Jimmy is due home with Debra in tow and the two women want to make sure that dinner is ready when they get there.
“Buff,” Willow calls out from next to the sink, “Grab the coriander too, please?”
Finally seeing the three ingredients she is tasked with finding, she plucks them from the rack and heads back to the cutting board. “Here,” she offers them to her wife and shakes her head. “Who comes up with these names? I know that we’re just now trying to be, ya know, culinary together or whatever, but couldn’t they have made them like I dunno, nicer sounding?”
Willow shakes the water from her hands, takes the offered dishtowel from Buffy and raises an eyebrow. “Well, allspice has different names. Its scientific name is Pimenta officialis, some of its common names are English spice, Jamaica pepper and Myrtle pepper. Then coriander’s scientific name is Coriandum sativum…”
“’Kay, Will, that’s enough,” Buffy holds up her hand to stop the overshare of information from the redhead. To take the sting from her words, she leans over and offers her lover a peck on the lips. Pulling back, she sees that her witch is pleased as they go back to fixing dinner. “So, what else do we need to do?”
Giving her lover a sidelong glance, Willow answers, “I think I’ll mix up the rub for the steaks, why don’t you stick to what you know and start trimming the fat from them?”
Happily, Buffy complies and turns to the fridge, removing the four-pack of New York strip steaks she picked up on her way home. Going back to the cutting board, she takes the knife Willow offers and begins her assigned task, smiling at its mundane nature.
Cooking dinner with Willow is one of the many things that Buffy enjoys about her new life. There is a lot, in the slayer’s estimation, which has changed over the years since Sunnydale. Some good, some bad and some is still the same, but she has Willow and Jimmy. For the past two years or so, whenever they had an evening together, Willow has made it a point for both of them to improve their culinary skills. They had started out disastrously after another Thanksgiving gone awry, but slowly they have improved. Tonight they were making, Buffy glances up at the recipe taped to the cupboard between Willow and her, Moroccan rubbed steak and sweet potatoes.
“Did Jimmy say how long they were going to be,” Willow asks as she mixes the spices together, “and what happened again?”
“A half hour tops at Deb’s. They would have come home with me, but one of the stupid frat boys we brought in thought they’d try suicide by cop instead of a plea bargain and grabbed me.” Buffy slides the trimmed fat and pooling blood off the cutting board back into the Styrofoam tray the steaks came in. She hands the plate of cut meat to Willow.
“And that resulted in a need to go back to her place how?” Taking the steak, Willow begins putting the packets of meat and potatoes together. “Buff, make sure the oven’s on. We need it set at three-seventy-five.”
Doing as asked, Buffy moves to the stove making sure the setting’s right while answering, “Instead of getting shot like he wanted when he had the gun to my head, I smashed in his nose and Deb took him down. She got his blood all down her shirt.”
“Oh,” Willow huffs, “thanks for not telling me.” She hands off the baking dish with four foil wrapped packets to her lover.
Buffy opens the oven, tosses the dish inside and spins back towards Willow, kicking the door closed in the process. “Anything else?” she asks. Willow shakes her head in answer and Buffy steps up to her wife, snaking her arms around the slim waist of the witch. “Don’t be mad, Will,” Buffy purrs and nuzzles the smooth neck in front of her. “It was totally no big deal. The gomer didn’t even have the safety off. Stupid kids! I’m just glad that we got them.”
Relaxing under the attention, Willow relents and pouts, “Yeah, but you could have at least told me when you got home.”
Willow feels Buffy shrug her shoulders before placating, “I won’t do it again.” She punctuates her response with a nip before pressing Willow against the kitchen counter and lifting her easily to the flat marbled surface.
“Do you think,” Willow manages between a hitched breath, “that this is gonna get you out of trouble, missy?”
Shaking her head, Buffy settles between her wife’s parted knees and looks up at her through a lock of fallen hair. “I was hoping for a less cranky Willow, but I do get it. Sorry for not saying anything. I kind of forgot as soon as I left the station.”
Pursing her lips, Willow settles her arms over her partner’s shoulders and begins playing with the wispy hair at the base of the blonde’s neck. “Fine.” They stay there in that moment, enjoying the music playing from the docking station above the kitchen sink.
Breaking the silence, Buffy asks, “Dance with me?”
Smiling, Willow drops from the counter and slips into Buffy’s waiting arms. “It’s a good thing we only have the salad left.”
“Hmm, uh-huh,” Buffy grunts, distracted by the feel of her wife moving to the music. Her eyes flutter and shut as she spins Willow around laying her head on the witches shoulder. Her right hand moves south to slip under Willow’s shirt and dance up to the small of her back. Buffy presses her hand against smooth, warm flesh reveling in the feel that Willow elicits.
“We don’t have that much time, baby,” Willow says, dancing away from Buffy’s questing fingers. “No hanky panky.” She continues to move with her wife, but keeps a safe distance between their bodies.
“But Will,” Buffy whines, slumping her shoulders and sending sizable puppy dog eyes to her wife.
“We can dance for a few minutes, but we have to set the table and finish up.” Willow wiggles her eyebrows and draws Buffy closer as she whispers in her ear, “Later after Jimmy and Deb get our blessing to have her move in, I can take you to bed, make it worth your wait.”
Buffy’s eyes light up at the idea and she shakes her head. “You think that’s what Jimmy was nervous about today?”
Willow pecks the tip of Buffy’s nose and answers, “I do. We both know it’s been coming for a few months. May as well put them out of their misery and get Deb to save some money on rent.”
“Very true.” Buffy moves them towards the sink and reaches for the volume control on the docking station. Turning the volume up a little louder, she settles her hands on Willow’s waist and rocks her hips in rhythm. They dance through a few more songs before the timer, that Willow set, dings. Reluctantly the two break away and finish preparing the meal.
Twirling the pasta on to her fork, Olivia looks over at Alex and teases, “You cheated.”
An elegantly sculpted eyebrow rises in question as the attorney’s fork lowers and clinks against the plate. “Would you care to tell me how I cheated and what exactly I cheated on?”
Smirking, Olivia slips the fork full of linguini between her lips. She removes the fork and begins chewing, taking her time before answering her lover, “The sauce is from Venezia’s.”
Alex rolls her eyes and sips at the wine Olivia poured. “You can’t possibly know that.”
“Honey, I’ll admit I was skeptical of your cooking, but we’ve been together nearly a year, I’ve been living with you for almost three months, I’d like to think I know your cooking,” Olivia explains, sipping her own glass of wine before continuing, “You’re good Alex, but you’re not that good.”
“Prove it,” the other woman challenges, folding her arms across her chest.
Accepting the challenge Olivia goes to the kitchen and looks around. None of the telltale signs are in plain sight, no take out cartons or bags so she moves to the garbage can, removes the lid and peers inside. In the half-full container, on top of the coffee grinds from this morning, are some onion peels and an empty wrapper that held the pasta they’re eating. Frowning she rights herself to see Alex propped against the entryway, arms folded casually across her chest, waiting.
Moving to the pantry, Olivia pulls the door open and looks down at the bin holding the recyclables. In that bin are two empty cans of tomato paste and a washed can that used to hold crushed tomatoes. The detective spins around, hands on hips and looks her lover over.
Alex points to the gold shield laying flush against the black cotton covered hip of her girlfriend and says, “I know they didn’t give you that to just look like a bad ass Liv, why don’t you just ask?”
Olivia’s tongue pokes her lower lip out before she grins and asks, “When did you stop?”
“I didn’t,” Alex states calmly, stepping into the kitchen and over to the recipe book that has a permanent spot on her kitchen counter. She slips the book open, turns to the worn page and pulls an aged folded piece of paper from between the pages. She hands the paper over to her lover, who’s been looking over her shoulder. “I’ve told you about my time in WitSec, about how mind numbingly boring it could get?” Alex spins around and presses against Olivia as the detective reads over the recipe in her hand.
“The sauce is from scratch, the recipe is from Venezia’s. I called them when I was in the program and purchased the recipe for the Bolognese,” Alex informs. Seeing that Olivia is thoroughly engrossed with the piece of paper, she decides to tease. Leaning down, her lips press against Olivia’s exposed neck and drag up to nibble the soft, pliant skin behind her lover’s ear lobe. Alex laves the back shell of Olivia’s ear and smiles against her skin when she hears the detective groan.
“Lex,” Olivia mumbles, dropping the recipe on the counter and twisting round to wrap her arms around Alex’s waist.
“Hmmm,” Alex purrs, “satisfied?” She pulls away then and winks at her lover.
Groaning, Olivia pushes Alex away and starts back towards the kitchen table. She calls over her shoulder, “Tease!” before disappearing around the archway and into the dining room where they were seated for dinner.
A wicked smile makes its way on to the attorney’s face as she follows her lover; not commenting on how accurate the statement is. “It’s a just punishment for thinking that I didn’t make the sauce,” she informs Olivia, taking her seat next to the detective.
“Hmm, so you say. Cruel and unusual comes to mind, councilor.” Olivia picks up her wine glass and twirls the stem between her fingers, appreciating the burgandy liquid spinning around the glass before taking a sip.
“Hey, I’m just lucky I didn’t gain a thousand pounds in the program. I must have cooked and burnt half a million things before getting the hang of actually, you know, cooking.” Alex sips her own wine and takes up her fork again, preparing it for another bite of pasta. “The local theatre had four screens one didn’t work. It was small. So in order to pass the time, besides driving to the next largest city about an hour away, I would pull recipes from the internet and try them out. I actually have a copy of the Julia Childe book somewhere…in a box…those didn’t work out so well,” Alex admits.
Grinning around a mouthful of food, Olivia nods. “You know it’s funny and I’m sure that when the curriculum was designed parents did these sorts of things with their kids, but not so much now. I think they should require courses like that in high school.”
Smirking, Alex informs, “They do baby, it’s called Home Ec.”
Rolling her eyes, Olivia explains, “It’s not required and you know what I learned in Home Ec? I learned how to make pepperoni rolls out of Pillsbury Crescent roles and sliced pepperoni. Not exactly the skills that help anyone run a household, ya know?”
Swallowing the last bit of food, Alex tilts her head to the side and smiles. “So what exactly should they teach?”
“Like, how to balance a check book, budgeting skills, how to do your frickin’ laundry. How to actually cook things, prepare a meal plan for like the week and shop accordingly. I mean in your twenties, at least for me it was in my teens, but for most, it’s in their twenties, you just fumble through it and fuck up, a lot. Unless of course you had parents around to teach you, but do you know of any families that have a stay at home parent now?” Olivia waits for Alex to answer, at the shake of the blonde’s head, the detective continues, “See that’s my point. Basic life stuff. If the purpose of high school is supposed to teach you how to be an adult and succeed at being an adult, the least the institution could do is teach the fundamentals.”
Chuckling, Alex let’s her lover down easily, “That makes entirely too much sense for any government bureaucracy to pick up.” She picks up her wine glass and raises it in toast, “But bully for you for such a sound, logical idea.”
Olivia gives a short snort of annoyance before giving in and softly clinking her own glass against Alex’s.
“Speaking of kids and parents, when is Elliot due back from vacation?”
Scratching the back of her neck, Olivia looks at the ceiling to recall the date and the answer to Alex’s question. “Next Wednesday, I think. He hasn’t called and said he was gonna extend the trip so…soon hopefully.”
“Do you want to invite him and Kathy over for dinner next weekend?” Thinking a moment, she amends, “Unless something happens during the week.”
“We’ll see what kind of mood he comes back in. Things with Dickie aren’t as smooth as El would like. Them being around each other for a week and a half may have him back in the One-Six in a mood.”
Frowning, Alex says, “I thought they were getting on better, after what you told me and then In November after the blow out over the slip in grades…”
Shrugging, Olivia says, “They were for a while, but, I just don’t know. Dickie’s changed. He fights so hard to not be like his father, but they’re so much alike.” She sits back in her chair and picks up the glass of wine again. “Dickie wants to be seen as a man, Elliot worries too much ‘cause he’s still just a teenager.”
“You could lock them up in a cell together and lose the key,” Alex half jokes.
“Kathy’d kill us. She likes them both. I’m not sure if they’d both come out alive.” She smiles at the mental image knowing that Elliot would let his son be. Regardless of the difficulties she’s seen her partner have with his kids, it’s still a known fact that he’d go to hell and back for them.
“’Liv,” Alex clears her throat and takes Olivia’s free hand, “does it ever make you think about having kids of your own?”
Startled at the question, Olivia looks up into serious cerulean eyes. “You mean seeing Elliot and his family?”
Shaking her head, Alex clarifies, “No, I just mean that before we were together, you talked of wanting it at one time or another, I’m just wondering if that’s changed since me or if it’s something that you still want?”
“Oh,” her mouth forms a small oh at utterance. Setting the glass down, she rubs the tip of her chin thinking on how to answer. “Alex, it’s not like I don’t want kids, I do. It just seems that whenever I think I’m ready, something happens. I’m not a spring chicken anymore so the sun’s kind of setting on that dream.”
Turning the corner of her mouth up in a half smile, the attorney offers, “Don’t give up on that one just yet. I’m a little younger than you detective. We can negotiate.”
Olivia’s eyes go a bit wide at the intimation and gives the hand entwined with her own a squeeze. She could live with Alex being the mother of her kids. It’s not exactly how she had seen it play out in her dreams, but it seems that reality was getting ready to offer something better.
Sitting at the dining room table, Jimmy takes his napkin and tucks it into the collar of his exposed wifebeater. His dark blue button down lay open, unbuttoned and his tie is stuffed somewhere, he thinks it’s in the glove compartment of the car. Debra looks him over as he takes up his fork and knife, each balled in a fist as he lightly pounds them on the top table.
Raising an eyebrow and folding her arms across her chest, she opens her mouth to comment on the ruckus but stops when her boyfriend shouts, “Cupcake! Red! Food! Now!”
Reflexes kick in, causing her to swing out with her left hand and backhand him in the chest. “Quit being an ass.”
“What?” he whimpers, dropping the butter knife in his right to hand to rub the spot Deb just hit.
“Partner, what are you yelling about?” Buffy asks carrying the bowl of salad. Willow is on her heels with the dish from the oven, smirking at the hurt look Jimmy sports at the head of the table.
“Food. I haven’t ate since this morning when we stopped for a breakfast burrito.” His green eyes light up as the dishes are set down on the table. “Smells scrumptious, whatever the hell it is.”
“Steak, sweet potatoes and salad,” Willow informs taking up a seat across from Debra.
“Thanks yinz two,” Jimmy says smacking his lips together.
Buffy takes her seat next Willow and dishes out a portion of salad to her and Willow. Passing the bowl over to Deb, she says, “You’re welcome and if you give me any more of that guy crap, I’m going to take your steak and put it someplace uncomfortable.” She shakes her head and points her fork at the woman across from her. “I can’t believe you sleep with him.”
Laughing, Deb says, “Me either.”
“Hey!” Jimmy looks between the two of them. “I’m right here, ya know. I got feelings, too.”
Patting his arm, Willow commiserates, “It’s okay big guy. I still love you.”
Jimmy grunts and takes the offered packet of foil from Willow. “It’s ‘cause you know not to pass up a good thing.” He winks at the redhead and cuts into the foil, hovering over the steam rising up and inhaling the scent of the herbs and spices. “And I think you two may have out did yourself tonight.”
“Withhold the praise until we taste. For all the crap Will put into the seasoning, it could taste like the ground up heart of a demon and trust me, that does not taste even in the realm of scrumptious.”
“Do I want to ask how you would know?” Deb asks looking up from her own plate, hazel eyes a little wider than they should be.
Buffy shrugs and Willow fills in. “Senior year, aspect of the demon, drove Buffy a little crazy. The cure. Demon heart brew! It was gross just cooking it up.”
“I can’t believe I had to drink it!” Buffy pouts, “I did it willingly.” Her mouth screws into a frown and her nose crinkles up. “Let me just take a moment to revel in the absence of suckage in my life right now.”
“Okay, see I just shouldn’t have asked,” Debra grumps.
Jimmy has gotten used to the one off stories that Willow and Buffy will share from time to time. He’s heard a lot of it, from the demon at a place called the Doublemeat Palace to Sid, the dummy that used to be a P.I. He’s become used to the odd turn his life has taken. He actually has found a bit of comfort in the strange stories knowing that, except for a few instances, he can help Buffy find the “normal” existence she wants.
With his place in the weird family he’s found himself in affirmed, he takes a cut of the steak Willow and Buffy gave him and chews happily, grinning as the flavors mingle on his tongue. Around the mouthful of steak, he manages, “Good work, girls.”
The two beam over at him and take a bite of their own meal, deciding that the recipe is a keeper.
Following suit, Deb cuts into her own and agrees. “You two are getting pretty damn good in the kitchen.”
Jimmy snorts, begins to laugh and ends up choking on a piece of potato that went down the wrong pipe. He sputters and spurts before managing, “Shit, we’re lucky we walked in on them only dancing in the kitchen.”
Willow reddens and begins to study her plate. He just had to bring that up.
“It was only the one time!” Buffy defends the first and only time Jimmy walked in on them. “You were supposed to be out with James and Tim for the afternoon. Just how were we supposed to know the game got rained out?”
“It was pouring out, what did you think was gonna happen Cupcake?” Jimmy snorts and winks at Debra.
Rolling her eyes, Buffy huffs and manages to barely suppress the grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. The table quiets down after that as they finish their meal.
As Jimmy chews his last bite of steak, following Buffy’s actions he tosses the napkin that was tucked into his shirt next to his plate and pats his stomach. “Really good, ladies. Can I hire yinz two out? Maybe start a side job thing, for like catering, you two could do parties and stuff?” He wiggles his eyebrows and Willow swats his arm.
“Nope, I’ll stick to police work,” Buffy says, leaning back in her chair.
“Damn,” Jimmy pouts. Looking between the two women he lives with he decides that now’s a good as time as any to broach the topic of Debra moving in with them. Picking up his fork to twirl between his fingers, he starts in, “So, uh, Cupcake, Red, Sweetcheeks and I were talkin’ on the way back from Bum Fucked and we wanted to run an idea past yinz two.”
The slayer and witch exchange a look and grin simultaneously. A conversation is had with the look and they decide that Willow should take point. Willow turns her gaze to Debra and asks, “So when is the lease up on your place?”
“Uh,” the brunette stammers and looks between the two women across from her and then to her boyfriend who is wearing just the tiniest hint of a smirk. “Did you talk to them already?” she directs the question to Jimmy.
He shakes his head and shrugs. “Nah, they’re just that spooky.”
“Fuckin’ weird,” Debra mumbles then answers the question, “Next month actually. I mean, if it’s cool with you two. I don’t wanna…”
“We’re fine,” Willow reassures, “It makes sense. You spend a lot of time here anyhow. Besides, I think it’ll be neat.”
Quirking an eyebrow, Deb asks, “Neat?”
Willow just grins, nodding her head vigorously.
“Will’s got this insane notion that you’ll help keep him in line,” Buffy snarks.
“Ha!” Deb laughs. “Fat-fucking-chance. I can’t keep him line any better than you two.”
“Again, I ain’t left the table.” Jimmy tosses his fork on top of the napkin and looks between Willow and Buffy, gauging the sincerity of their words. He knows that they’d do nearly anything for him, but he doesn’t want this, whatever Deb and him turn into, to interfere with his relationship with them. “You two seriously cool with this?”
Buffy smiles and nods. Willow takes hold of his hand and gives it a squeeze. “Definitely,” she affirms.
“Well hot damn,” Debra grins. Kicking back in her chair she looks at the three people around the table and says, “If you had told me I’d end up here when we first met, Buffy, Willow, I think the three of us would have had our selves fucking committed.”
“Life’s wacky that way,” Willow agrees.
Debra’s smile falters for a brief moment as the memory of her brother and the reason she’s here in the first place takes up residence next to her. Shaking him and it off, she says, “Well then, I think Jimmy and I should grab the dishes…”
“And,” Jimmy interrupts, standing to gather the empty plates, “You two should call my son and maybe Liv and Alex, see if they wanna get together for celebratory drinks? My treat?”
Buffy doesn’t think as she answers, “Oh, free drinks and James, Alex and I can plot our next shopping trip.” She rubs her hands together gleefully as Willow groans at the idea their bank account is going to take a hit in the near future.
Miami feels like a distant memory to the detective sitting in the aged maroon booth of Sixers. Sitting with Jimmy, Buffy, Willow, Alex and Olivia, they wait to order because Jimmy’s son, James and his partner, Tim, are on their way and Jimmy doesn’t want to start celebrating without them. Deb knew her lover wouldn’t mind bunking together, but the pleasure he was taking from the decision and agreement by his roommates wasn’t something she expected.
So Deb sat back in her booth looking around and letting the memory of a life lived in Miami wash over her. Her life was segmented into three parts; she could clearly define and remember each and every segmentation. First, there was before Knowing, before she knew about who her brother was. Nothing could take away the love she had for him not even when she found out about his, as Dexter liked to call it, “Dark Passenger”, Deb didn’t like it, but accepted it. After all, the path had been sanctioned by her father.
That was a life-altering event, something that will stay with her well into old age. Then, after dealing with meeting the truest version of her brother, in walk Willow and Buffy. Taking the world she thought she knew and turning it on its head. She spent the months with Dexter and Siobhan hunting demons and vampires when her time allowed it. Lastly, there is the time after it all. After Dexter was murdered and the last bit of family she had was taken from her. She woke in the hospital surrounded by Jimmy and by Buffy. They were having a quiet, but intense conversation about her. Things have been different since.
Then again, she muses as she looks between the group, things are different for them as well. Better, she thinks, than they had been.
“Ah, there they are,” Jimmy says elbowing her, asking permission to let him out of the booth to greet his son.
Unable to resist, she shoves back and says, “Cool it McAllister.”
He just grins at her.
Rolling her eyes, she slides off the end of the seat and stands, letting Jimmy through. He was certainly a change for her. Not the type of guy that she usually went for. Most men that she attracts had their own demons and needed to struggle with them. Jimmy has already been through that fight, faced and moved on. Now, he’s just happy to be with his partner and family. Daughter not withstanding the one hitch in his world.
The detective turns to look at the junior version of her lover. Similar in height, six-three or there abouts, with shaggy brown hair and the same bright green eyes. James McAllister Junior had a slightly slimmer build than his father and a youthful exuberance that she guesses won’t dull the older he gets. Tim, James’ partner for the past six years, is slimmer, but slightly taller than his lover with a clean shaven head and smooth square jaw.
“Deb,” James grins and opens his arms to the slim brunette after hugging his father.
“Hi James.” Accepting the embrace, she feels strong arms wrap around her shoulders and pull her in. Breathing him in, she resists the laugh at the smell that wafts up from the opening of the brown leather jacket James is wearing.
“What?” he asks pulling away from Debra’s smirking form.
“You and your dad have the same taste in cologne,” she teases.
“Ah, well, Dakkar is a classic.” He winks at the detective and then turns his attention to the rest of the table. “Buffy, Willow, you two look as lovely as ever.” He leans over the table and kisses both on their cheeks. Righting himself, he takes the offered hands of Alex and Olivia, “Alex, Olivia, you two look surprisingly well rested.” He winks at them, smirking at the blush that dusts Olivia’s cheeks.
“Hi James,” Alex says. Looking around for Jimmy, Tim and Debra , she spots them at the bar ordering drinks.
Olivia moves over and to make space for the two men that are joining them. “So,” James asks, “What’s all the hub bub. Dad looks, uhm, really happy…” his hands go to his mouth as he trails off and his eyes narrow as he looks between Buffy and Willow. “He didn’t did he?”
“Didn’t want?” Willow asks.
“He didn’t pop the question did he?” James clarifies. While he knew his dad was serious about his relationship with the Miami native, he didn’t think that his dad would contemplate marriage again.
Buffy shakes her head and Willow laughs. “No,” the redhead answers, “Something different.”
“All right, kids,” Jimmy booms, sliding into the booth and putting a pitcher of beer on the table, “drink up.”
“Hi Tim,” the four women that didn’t get to say hello to the other man say in unison.
“Hey,” Tim says smiling and taking up the seat across from Debra next to his lover. “How’s things?”
“Not too bad,” Olivia answers, taking a sip of the glass of beer that was placed in front of her, “but I think we’re all wondering what this little celebration’s about?” She directs the question to Jimmy.
The usually terse detective just smiles around the lip of his own glass. Feeling the nudge of the elbows of both Willow on his right and Debra on his left he relents, “Okay, so I just wanted some of the people I actually like to celebrate with us.” He takes his free arm and slings it around Debra’s shoulder a grin splitting his face.
Quirking an eyebrow James looks at his father and his father’s girlfriend, but it’s Tim who says, “You knocked her up.” The four faces fall and pale across from him, causing him to back pedal, “or maybe not.”
“Uh, emphatically, not!” Buffy barks from her corner seat. Peering around to her partner and Debra, she squints at them and says, “Don’t give me nightmares.”
“Hey,” Deb says, holding up her hand. “Not anytime in the foreseeable future. Fucking Christ. Why’s it always gotta be babies and marriage with people. Can’t you just screw and be in a relationship without rushing off to the altar?”
“Here, here,” Jimmy finally pipes up, wiping his face with his hands. “No, for Christ’s sakes, no.” He jabs a finger at his son and for lack of a better term, son-in-law and says, “No more kids and marriage, I think not.” He falters then and looks to Debra who holds her hands up and shakes her head. Taking the confirmation, he nods and goes back to looking at the four across from him. “I just wanted to celebrate a new living arrangement. Deb’s moving in with us.”
“Oh,” Tim breathes.
“Congratulations,” Olivia and Alex say at the same time. Exchanging a look that says they know while babies and marriage isn’t the be all end all for everyone, it’s something that both have been thinking about.
“All right, Dad!” James raises his hand and offers his father a high five. “Not that you two getting married would be bad, but I mean, with how it ended with mom…”
“I get it, kiddo.” Jimmy says smiling.
“Thought so. And Deb, while I think you’re awesome, having another brother or sister…at my age…kind of creeps me out.” James offers a kind smile, taking any of the sting his words may cause away and asks, “Did you tell Susie yet?”
Jimmy shakes his head and answers, “I’m not sure how I’m going to bring this up to her. She’s got issues anyhow.”
“Not to sound cruel, but really,” Alex asks, “What is her deal?”
“Really,” James starts, “Maybe she’ll lighten up, but not to make this super heavy, but I think she’s just…she’s been a Daddy’s girl since she was little…on top of her bitter streak about how the divorce ended. Then with dad’s stint of self-induced isolation for a few years.” He looks at Willow, Buffy and then his father, “I mean when you had us over for the first time after everything, dad, you three were close. It hurt her, to understand that you built this life that had nothing to do with her, it’s an issue.”
Jimmy’s face falls a little at this, knowing his son is right. He runs a hand through his hair and concedes, “Junior, I get that some of this is definitely on my shoulders, but you and I have done okay, right?”
“Hey,” his son pacifies, “We’re golden, but don’t take up the blame for the way Susie is right now. Out of everyone, it’s you and me that shouldn’t have a great relationship, but we do. That’s the focus. She wants to focus on the past. She needs to get over herself.”
“Agreed,” Buffy lets her opinion be known. “Old man, you weren’t always Detective Feel Good when we met.”
“True,” Jimmy agrees.
“You know,” Alex pipes up, “that’s got to be an interesting story. How exactly did you two become partners?”
Buffy and Jimmy exchange a look and a conversation in a glance, thinking that it wouldn’t hurt to tell the story.
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Law & Order: SVU & Dexter
Pairings: Buff/Will, Alex/Olivia & Debra/OC
Rating: R - Deb’s got a bad case of Potty Mouth and it ain’t lookin’ to change soon.
Disclaimer: See previous…we all know the drill. If they were mine, I’d be doing back flips.
A/N: For this chapter, not so much. Read enjoy or do whatever you do if it’s not enjoy, but if you don’t enjoy it then why read it. If the latter is the case, it may call into question certain masochistic tendencies that may lay lead to unhealthy acting out…just sayin’ is all… =0) And while I’m thinking of it…this has been beta’s but I’m sure I’ve goofed somewhere after I got the file back, so all mistakes belong to me.
Ch. 5 - You Want It, You Got It
Buffy spins the stained Oak spice rack that Willow insisted they purchase the last time they went up state, her mouth screws to the side as she searches for the allspice and cumin her wife asked for. They have another hour before Jimmy is due home with Debra in tow and the two women want to make sure that dinner is ready when they get there.
“Buff,” Willow calls out from next to the sink, “Grab the coriander too, please?”
Finally seeing the three ingredients she is tasked with finding, she plucks them from the rack and heads back to the cutting board. “Here,” she offers them to her wife and shakes her head. “Who comes up with these names? I know that we’re just now trying to be, ya know, culinary together or whatever, but couldn’t they have made them like I dunno, nicer sounding?”
Willow shakes the water from her hands, takes the offered dishtowel from Buffy and raises an eyebrow. “Well, allspice has different names. Its scientific name is Pimenta officialis, some of its common names are English spice, Jamaica pepper and Myrtle pepper. Then coriander’s scientific name is Coriandum sativum…”
“’Kay, Will, that’s enough,” Buffy holds up her hand to stop the overshare of information from the redhead. To take the sting from her words, she leans over and offers her lover a peck on the lips. Pulling back, she sees that her witch is pleased as they go back to fixing dinner. “So, what else do we need to do?”
Giving her lover a sidelong glance, Willow answers, “I think I’ll mix up the rub for the steaks, why don’t you stick to what you know and start trimming the fat from them?”
Happily, Buffy complies and turns to the fridge, removing the four-pack of New York strip steaks she picked up on her way home. Going back to the cutting board, she takes the knife Willow offers and begins her assigned task, smiling at its mundane nature.
Cooking dinner with Willow is one of the many things that Buffy enjoys about her new life. There is a lot, in the slayer’s estimation, which has changed over the years since Sunnydale. Some good, some bad and some is still the same, but she has Willow and Jimmy. For the past two years or so, whenever they had an evening together, Willow has made it a point for both of them to improve their culinary skills. They had started out disastrously after another Thanksgiving gone awry, but slowly they have improved. Tonight they were making, Buffy glances up at the recipe taped to the cupboard between Willow and her, Moroccan rubbed steak and sweet potatoes.
“Did Jimmy say how long they were going to be,” Willow asks as she mixes the spices together, “and what happened again?”
“A half hour tops at Deb’s. They would have come home with me, but one of the stupid frat boys we brought in thought they’d try suicide by cop instead of a plea bargain and grabbed me.” Buffy slides the trimmed fat and pooling blood off the cutting board back into the Styrofoam tray the steaks came in. She hands the plate of cut meat to Willow.
“And that resulted in a need to go back to her place how?” Taking the steak, Willow begins putting the packets of meat and potatoes together. “Buff, make sure the oven’s on. We need it set at three-seventy-five.”
Doing as asked, Buffy moves to the stove making sure the setting’s right while answering, “Instead of getting shot like he wanted when he had the gun to my head, I smashed in his nose and Deb took him down. She got his blood all down her shirt.”
“Oh,” Willow huffs, “thanks for not telling me.” She hands off the baking dish with four foil wrapped packets to her lover.
Buffy opens the oven, tosses the dish inside and spins back towards Willow, kicking the door closed in the process. “Anything else?” she asks. Willow shakes her head in answer and Buffy steps up to her wife, snaking her arms around the slim waist of the witch. “Don’t be mad, Will,” Buffy purrs and nuzzles the smooth neck in front of her. “It was totally no big deal. The gomer didn’t even have the safety off. Stupid kids! I’m just glad that we got them.”
Relaxing under the attention, Willow relents and pouts, “Yeah, but you could have at least told me when you got home.”
Willow feels Buffy shrug her shoulders before placating, “I won’t do it again.” She punctuates her response with a nip before pressing Willow against the kitchen counter and lifting her easily to the flat marbled surface.
“Do you think,” Willow manages between a hitched breath, “that this is gonna get you out of trouble, missy?”
Shaking her head, Buffy settles between her wife’s parted knees and looks up at her through a lock of fallen hair. “I was hoping for a less cranky Willow, but I do get it. Sorry for not saying anything. I kind of forgot as soon as I left the station.”
Pursing her lips, Willow settles her arms over her partner’s shoulders and begins playing with the wispy hair at the base of the blonde’s neck. “Fine.” They stay there in that moment, enjoying the music playing from the docking station above the kitchen sink.
Breaking the silence, Buffy asks, “Dance with me?”
Smiling, Willow drops from the counter and slips into Buffy’s waiting arms. “It’s a good thing we only have the salad left.”
“Hmm, uh-huh,” Buffy grunts, distracted by the feel of her wife moving to the music. Her eyes flutter and shut as she spins Willow around laying her head on the witches shoulder. Her right hand moves south to slip under Willow’s shirt and dance up to the small of her back. Buffy presses her hand against smooth, warm flesh reveling in the feel that Willow elicits.
“We don’t have that much time, baby,” Willow says, dancing away from Buffy’s questing fingers. “No hanky panky.” She continues to move with her wife, but keeps a safe distance between their bodies.
“But Will,” Buffy whines, slumping her shoulders and sending sizable puppy dog eyes to her wife.
“We can dance for a few minutes, but we have to set the table and finish up.” Willow wiggles her eyebrows and draws Buffy closer as she whispers in her ear, “Later after Jimmy and Deb get our blessing to have her move in, I can take you to bed, make it worth your wait.”
Buffy’s eyes light up at the idea and she shakes her head. “You think that’s what Jimmy was nervous about today?”
Willow pecks the tip of Buffy’s nose and answers, “I do. We both know it’s been coming for a few months. May as well put them out of their misery and get Deb to save some money on rent.”
“Very true.” Buffy moves them towards the sink and reaches for the volume control on the docking station. Turning the volume up a little louder, she settles her hands on Willow’s waist and rocks her hips in rhythm. They dance through a few more songs before the timer, that Willow set, dings. Reluctantly the two break away and finish preparing the meal.
Twirling the pasta on to her fork, Olivia looks over at Alex and teases, “You cheated.”
An elegantly sculpted eyebrow rises in question as the attorney’s fork lowers and clinks against the plate. “Would you care to tell me how I cheated and what exactly I cheated on?”
Smirking, Olivia slips the fork full of linguini between her lips. She removes the fork and begins chewing, taking her time before answering her lover, “The sauce is from Venezia’s.”
Alex rolls her eyes and sips at the wine Olivia poured. “You can’t possibly know that.”
“Honey, I’ll admit I was skeptical of your cooking, but we’ve been together nearly a year, I’ve been living with you for almost three months, I’d like to think I know your cooking,” Olivia explains, sipping her own glass of wine before continuing, “You’re good Alex, but you’re not that good.”
“Prove it,” the other woman challenges, folding her arms across her chest.
Accepting the challenge Olivia goes to the kitchen and looks around. None of the telltale signs are in plain sight, no take out cartons or bags so she moves to the garbage can, removes the lid and peers inside. In the half-full container, on top of the coffee grinds from this morning, are some onion peels and an empty wrapper that held the pasta they’re eating. Frowning she rights herself to see Alex propped against the entryway, arms folded casually across her chest, waiting.
Moving to the pantry, Olivia pulls the door open and looks down at the bin holding the recyclables. In that bin are two empty cans of tomato paste and a washed can that used to hold crushed tomatoes. The detective spins around, hands on hips and looks her lover over.
Alex points to the gold shield laying flush against the black cotton covered hip of her girlfriend and says, “I know they didn’t give you that to just look like a bad ass Liv, why don’t you just ask?”
Olivia’s tongue pokes her lower lip out before she grins and asks, “When did you stop?”
“I didn’t,” Alex states calmly, stepping into the kitchen and over to the recipe book that has a permanent spot on her kitchen counter. She slips the book open, turns to the worn page and pulls an aged folded piece of paper from between the pages. She hands the paper over to her lover, who’s been looking over her shoulder. “I’ve told you about my time in WitSec, about how mind numbingly boring it could get?” Alex spins around and presses against Olivia as the detective reads over the recipe in her hand.
“The sauce is from scratch, the recipe is from Venezia’s. I called them when I was in the program and purchased the recipe for the Bolognese,” Alex informs. Seeing that Olivia is thoroughly engrossed with the piece of paper, she decides to tease. Leaning down, her lips press against Olivia’s exposed neck and drag up to nibble the soft, pliant skin behind her lover’s ear lobe. Alex laves the back shell of Olivia’s ear and smiles against her skin when she hears the detective groan.
“Lex,” Olivia mumbles, dropping the recipe on the counter and twisting round to wrap her arms around Alex’s waist.
“Hmmm,” Alex purrs, “satisfied?” She pulls away then and winks at her lover.
Groaning, Olivia pushes Alex away and starts back towards the kitchen table. She calls over her shoulder, “Tease!” before disappearing around the archway and into the dining room where they were seated for dinner.
A wicked smile makes its way on to the attorney’s face as she follows her lover; not commenting on how accurate the statement is. “It’s a just punishment for thinking that I didn’t make the sauce,” she informs Olivia, taking her seat next to the detective.
“Hmm, so you say. Cruel and unusual comes to mind, councilor.” Olivia picks up her wine glass and twirls the stem between her fingers, appreciating the burgandy liquid spinning around the glass before taking a sip.
“Hey, I’m just lucky I didn’t gain a thousand pounds in the program. I must have cooked and burnt half a million things before getting the hang of actually, you know, cooking.” Alex sips her own wine and takes up her fork again, preparing it for another bite of pasta. “The local theatre had four screens one didn’t work. It was small. So in order to pass the time, besides driving to the next largest city about an hour away, I would pull recipes from the internet and try them out. I actually have a copy of the Julia Childe book somewhere…in a box…those didn’t work out so well,” Alex admits.
Grinning around a mouthful of food, Olivia nods. “You know it’s funny and I’m sure that when the curriculum was designed parents did these sorts of things with their kids, but not so much now. I think they should require courses like that in high school.”
Smirking, Alex informs, “They do baby, it’s called Home Ec.”
Rolling her eyes, Olivia explains, “It’s not required and you know what I learned in Home Ec? I learned how to make pepperoni rolls out of Pillsbury Crescent roles and sliced pepperoni. Not exactly the skills that help anyone run a household, ya know?”
Swallowing the last bit of food, Alex tilts her head to the side and smiles. “So what exactly should they teach?”
“Like, how to balance a check book, budgeting skills, how to do your frickin’ laundry. How to actually cook things, prepare a meal plan for like the week and shop accordingly. I mean in your twenties, at least for me it was in my teens, but for most, it’s in their twenties, you just fumble through it and fuck up, a lot. Unless of course you had parents around to teach you, but do you know of any families that have a stay at home parent now?” Olivia waits for Alex to answer, at the shake of the blonde’s head, the detective continues, “See that’s my point. Basic life stuff. If the purpose of high school is supposed to teach you how to be an adult and succeed at being an adult, the least the institution could do is teach the fundamentals.”
Chuckling, Alex let’s her lover down easily, “That makes entirely too much sense for any government bureaucracy to pick up.” She picks up her wine glass and raises it in toast, “But bully for you for such a sound, logical idea.”
Olivia gives a short snort of annoyance before giving in and softly clinking her own glass against Alex’s.
“Speaking of kids and parents, when is Elliot due back from vacation?”
Scratching the back of her neck, Olivia looks at the ceiling to recall the date and the answer to Alex’s question. “Next Wednesday, I think. He hasn’t called and said he was gonna extend the trip so…soon hopefully.”
“Do you want to invite him and Kathy over for dinner next weekend?” Thinking a moment, she amends, “Unless something happens during the week.”
“We’ll see what kind of mood he comes back in. Things with Dickie aren’t as smooth as El would like. Them being around each other for a week and a half may have him back in the One-Six in a mood.”
Frowning, Alex says, “I thought they were getting on better, after what you told me and then In November after the blow out over the slip in grades…”
Shrugging, Olivia says, “They were for a while, but, I just don’t know. Dickie’s changed. He fights so hard to not be like his father, but they’re so much alike.” She sits back in her chair and picks up the glass of wine again. “Dickie wants to be seen as a man, Elliot worries too much ‘cause he’s still just a teenager.”
“You could lock them up in a cell together and lose the key,” Alex half jokes.
“Kathy’d kill us. She likes them both. I’m not sure if they’d both come out alive.” She smiles at the mental image knowing that Elliot would let his son be. Regardless of the difficulties she’s seen her partner have with his kids, it’s still a known fact that he’d go to hell and back for them.
“’Liv,” Alex clears her throat and takes Olivia’s free hand, “does it ever make you think about having kids of your own?”
Startled at the question, Olivia looks up into serious cerulean eyes. “You mean seeing Elliot and his family?”
Shaking her head, Alex clarifies, “No, I just mean that before we were together, you talked of wanting it at one time or another, I’m just wondering if that’s changed since me or if it’s something that you still want?”
“Oh,” her mouth forms a small oh at utterance. Setting the glass down, she rubs the tip of her chin thinking on how to answer. “Alex, it’s not like I don’t want kids, I do. It just seems that whenever I think I’m ready, something happens. I’m not a spring chicken anymore so the sun’s kind of setting on that dream.”
Turning the corner of her mouth up in a half smile, the attorney offers, “Don’t give up on that one just yet. I’m a little younger than you detective. We can negotiate.”
Olivia’s eyes go a bit wide at the intimation and gives the hand entwined with her own a squeeze. She could live with Alex being the mother of her kids. It’s not exactly how she had seen it play out in her dreams, but it seems that reality was getting ready to offer something better.
Sitting at the dining room table, Jimmy takes his napkin and tucks it into the collar of his exposed wifebeater. His dark blue button down lay open, unbuttoned and his tie is stuffed somewhere, he thinks it’s in the glove compartment of the car. Debra looks him over as he takes up his fork and knife, each balled in a fist as he lightly pounds them on the top table.
Raising an eyebrow and folding her arms across her chest, she opens her mouth to comment on the ruckus but stops when her boyfriend shouts, “Cupcake! Red! Food! Now!”
Reflexes kick in, causing her to swing out with her left hand and backhand him in the chest. “Quit being an ass.”
“What?” he whimpers, dropping the butter knife in his right to hand to rub the spot Deb just hit.
“Partner, what are you yelling about?” Buffy asks carrying the bowl of salad. Willow is on her heels with the dish from the oven, smirking at the hurt look Jimmy sports at the head of the table.
“Food. I haven’t ate since this morning when we stopped for a breakfast burrito.” His green eyes light up as the dishes are set down on the table. “Smells scrumptious, whatever the hell it is.”
“Steak, sweet potatoes and salad,” Willow informs taking up a seat across from Debra.
“Thanks yinz two,” Jimmy says smacking his lips together.
Buffy takes her seat next Willow and dishes out a portion of salad to her and Willow. Passing the bowl over to Deb, she says, “You’re welcome and if you give me any more of that guy crap, I’m going to take your steak and put it someplace uncomfortable.” She shakes her head and points her fork at the woman across from her. “I can’t believe you sleep with him.”
Laughing, Deb says, “Me either.”
“Hey!” Jimmy looks between the two of them. “I’m right here, ya know. I got feelings, too.”
Patting his arm, Willow commiserates, “It’s okay big guy. I still love you.”
Jimmy grunts and takes the offered packet of foil from Willow. “It’s ‘cause you know not to pass up a good thing.” He winks at the redhead and cuts into the foil, hovering over the steam rising up and inhaling the scent of the herbs and spices. “And I think you two may have out did yourself tonight.”
“Withhold the praise until we taste. For all the crap Will put into the seasoning, it could taste like the ground up heart of a demon and trust me, that does not taste even in the realm of scrumptious.”
“Do I want to ask how you would know?” Deb asks looking up from her own plate, hazel eyes a little wider than they should be.
Buffy shrugs and Willow fills in. “Senior year, aspect of the demon, drove Buffy a little crazy. The cure. Demon heart brew! It was gross just cooking it up.”
“I can’t believe I had to drink it!” Buffy pouts, “I did it willingly.” Her mouth screws into a frown and her nose crinkles up. “Let me just take a moment to revel in the absence of suckage in my life right now.”
“Okay, see I just shouldn’t have asked,” Debra grumps.
Jimmy has gotten used to the one off stories that Willow and Buffy will share from time to time. He’s heard a lot of it, from the demon at a place called the Doublemeat Palace to Sid, the dummy that used to be a P.I. He’s become used to the odd turn his life has taken. He actually has found a bit of comfort in the strange stories knowing that, except for a few instances, he can help Buffy find the “normal” existence she wants.
With his place in the weird family he’s found himself in affirmed, he takes a cut of the steak Willow and Buffy gave him and chews happily, grinning as the flavors mingle on his tongue. Around the mouthful of steak, he manages, “Good work, girls.”
The two beam over at him and take a bite of their own meal, deciding that the recipe is a keeper.
Following suit, Deb cuts into her own and agrees. “You two are getting pretty damn good in the kitchen.”
Jimmy snorts, begins to laugh and ends up choking on a piece of potato that went down the wrong pipe. He sputters and spurts before managing, “Shit, we’re lucky we walked in on them only dancing in the kitchen.”
Willow reddens and begins to study her plate. He just had to bring that up.
“It was only the one time!” Buffy defends the first and only time Jimmy walked in on them. “You were supposed to be out with James and Tim for the afternoon. Just how were we supposed to know the game got rained out?”
“It was pouring out, what did you think was gonna happen Cupcake?” Jimmy snorts and winks at Debra.
Rolling her eyes, Buffy huffs and manages to barely suppress the grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. The table quiets down after that as they finish their meal.
As Jimmy chews his last bite of steak, following Buffy’s actions he tosses the napkin that was tucked into his shirt next to his plate and pats his stomach. “Really good, ladies. Can I hire yinz two out? Maybe start a side job thing, for like catering, you two could do parties and stuff?” He wiggles his eyebrows and Willow swats his arm.
“Nope, I’ll stick to police work,” Buffy says, leaning back in her chair.
“Damn,” Jimmy pouts. Looking between the two women he lives with he decides that now’s a good as time as any to broach the topic of Debra moving in with them. Picking up his fork to twirl between his fingers, he starts in, “So, uh, Cupcake, Red, Sweetcheeks and I were talkin’ on the way back from Bum Fucked and we wanted to run an idea past yinz two.”
The slayer and witch exchange a look and grin simultaneously. A conversation is had with the look and they decide that Willow should take point. Willow turns her gaze to Debra and asks, “So when is the lease up on your place?”
“Uh,” the brunette stammers and looks between the two women across from her and then to her boyfriend who is wearing just the tiniest hint of a smirk. “Did you talk to them already?” she directs the question to Jimmy.
He shakes his head and shrugs. “Nah, they’re just that spooky.”
“Fuckin’ weird,” Debra mumbles then answers the question, “Next month actually. I mean, if it’s cool with you two. I don’t wanna…”
“We’re fine,” Willow reassures, “It makes sense. You spend a lot of time here anyhow. Besides, I think it’ll be neat.”
Quirking an eyebrow, Deb asks, “Neat?”
Willow just grins, nodding her head vigorously.
“Will’s got this insane notion that you’ll help keep him in line,” Buffy snarks.
“Ha!” Deb laughs. “Fat-fucking-chance. I can’t keep him line any better than you two.”
“Again, I ain’t left the table.” Jimmy tosses his fork on top of the napkin and looks between Willow and Buffy, gauging the sincerity of their words. He knows that they’d do nearly anything for him, but he doesn’t want this, whatever Deb and him turn into, to interfere with his relationship with them. “You two seriously cool with this?”
Buffy smiles and nods. Willow takes hold of his hand and gives it a squeeze. “Definitely,” she affirms.
“Well hot damn,” Debra grins. Kicking back in her chair she looks at the three people around the table and says, “If you had told me I’d end up here when we first met, Buffy, Willow, I think the three of us would have had our selves fucking committed.”
“Life’s wacky that way,” Willow agrees.
Debra’s smile falters for a brief moment as the memory of her brother and the reason she’s here in the first place takes up residence next to her. Shaking him and it off, she says, “Well then, I think Jimmy and I should grab the dishes…”
“And,” Jimmy interrupts, standing to gather the empty plates, “You two should call my son and maybe Liv and Alex, see if they wanna get together for celebratory drinks? My treat?”
Buffy doesn’t think as she answers, “Oh, free drinks and James, Alex and I can plot our next shopping trip.” She rubs her hands together gleefully as Willow groans at the idea their bank account is going to take a hit in the near future.
Miami feels like a distant memory to the detective sitting in the aged maroon booth of Sixers. Sitting with Jimmy, Buffy, Willow, Alex and Olivia, they wait to order because Jimmy’s son, James and his partner, Tim, are on their way and Jimmy doesn’t want to start celebrating without them. Deb knew her lover wouldn’t mind bunking together, but the pleasure he was taking from the decision and agreement by his roommates wasn’t something she expected.
So Deb sat back in her booth looking around and letting the memory of a life lived in Miami wash over her. Her life was segmented into three parts; she could clearly define and remember each and every segmentation. First, there was before Knowing, before she knew about who her brother was. Nothing could take away the love she had for him not even when she found out about his, as Dexter liked to call it, “Dark Passenger”, Deb didn’t like it, but accepted it. After all, the path had been sanctioned by her father.
That was a life-altering event, something that will stay with her well into old age. Then, after dealing with meeting the truest version of her brother, in walk Willow and Buffy. Taking the world she thought she knew and turning it on its head. She spent the months with Dexter and Siobhan hunting demons and vampires when her time allowed it. Lastly, there is the time after it all. After Dexter was murdered and the last bit of family she had was taken from her. She woke in the hospital surrounded by Jimmy and by Buffy. They were having a quiet, but intense conversation about her. Things have been different since.
Then again, she muses as she looks between the group, things are different for them as well. Better, she thinks, than they had been.
“Ah, there they are,” Jimmy says elbowing her, asking permission to let him out of the booth to greet his son.
Unable to resist, she shoves back and says, “Cool it McAllister.”
He just grins at her.
Rolling her eyes, she slides off the end of the seat and stands, letting Jimmy through. He was certainly a change for her. Not the type of guy that she usually went for. Most men that she attracts had their own demons and needed to struggle with them. Jimmy has already been through that fight, faced and moved on. Now, he’s just happy to be with his partner and family. Daughter not withstanding the one hitch in his world.
The detective turns to look at the junior version of her lover. Similar in height, six-three or there abouts, with shaggy brown hair and the same bright green eyes. James McAllister Junior had a slightly slimmer build than his father and a youthful exuberance that she guesses won’t dull the older he gets. Tim, James’ partner for the past six years, is slimmer, but slightly taller than his lover with a clean shaven head and smooth square jaw.
“Deb,” James grins and opens his arms to the slim brunette after hugging his father.
“Hi James.” Accepting the embrace, she feels strong arms wrap around her shoulders and pull her in. Breathing him in, she resists the laugh at the smell that wafts up from the opening of the brown leather jacket James is wearing.
“What?” he asks pulling away from Debra’s smirking form.
“You and your dad have the same taste in cologne,” she teases.
“Ah, well, Dakkar is a classic.” He winks at the detective and then turns his attention to the rest of the table. “Buffy, Willow, you two look as lovely as ever.” He leans over the table and kisses both on their cheeks. Righting himself, he takes the offered hands of Alex and Olivia, “Alex, Olivia, you two look surprisingly well rested.” He winks at them, smirking at the blush that dusts Olivia’s cheeks.
“Hi James,” Alex says. Looking around for Jimmy, Tim and Debra , she spots them at the bar ordering drinks.
Olivia moves over and to make space for the two men that are joining them. “So,” James asks, “What’s all the hub bub. Dad looks, uhm, really happy…” his hands go to his mouth as he trails off and his eyes narrow as he looks between Buffy and Willow. “He didn’t did he?”
“Didn’t want?” Willow asks.
“He didn’t pop the question did he?” James clarifies. While he knew his dad was serious about his relationship with the Miami native, he didn’t think that his dad would contemplate marriage again.
Buffy shakes her head and Willow laughs. “No,” the redhead answers, “Something different.”
“All right, kids,” Jimmy booms, sliding into the booth and putting a pitcher of beer on the table, “drink up.”
“Hi Tim,” the four women that didn’t get to say hello to the other man say in unison.
“Hey,” Tim says smiling and taking up the seat across from Debra next to his lover. “How’s things?”
“Not too bad,” Olivia answers, taking a sip of the glass of beer that was placed in front of her, “but I think we’re all wondering what this little celebration’s about?” She directs the question to Jimmy.
The usually terse detective just smiles around the lip of his own glass. Feeling the nudge of the elbows of both Willow on his right and Debra on his left he relents, “Okay, so I just wanted some of the people I actually like to celebrate with us.” He takes his free arm and slings it around Debra’s shoulder a grin splitting his face.
Quirking an eyebrow James looks at his father and his father’s girlfriend, but it’s Tim who says, “You knocked her up.” The four faces fall and pale across from him, causing him to back pedal, “or maybe not.”
“Uh, emphatically, not!” Buffy barks from her corner seat. Peering around to her partner and Debra, she squints at them and says, “Don’t give me nightmares.”
“Hey,” Deb says, holding up her hand. “Not anytime in the foreseeable future. Fucking Christ. Why’s it always gotta be babies and marriage with people. Can’t you just screw and be in a relationship without rushing off to the altar?”
“Here, here,” Jimmy finally pipes up, wiping his face with his hands. “No, for Christ’s sakes, no.” He jabs a finger at his son and for lack of a better term, son-in-law and says, “No more kids and marriage, I think not.” He falters then and looks to Debra who holds her hands up and shakes her head. Taking the confirmation, he nods and goes back to looking at the four across from him. “I just wanted to celebrate a new living arrangement. Deb’s moving in with us.”
“Oh,” Tim breathes.
“Congratulations,” Olivia and Alex say at the same time. Exchanging a look that says they know while babies and marriage isn’t the be all end all for everyone, it’s something that both have been thinking about.
“All right, Dad!” James raises his hand and offers his father a high five. “Not that you two getting married would be bad, but I mean, with how it ended with mom…”
“I get it, kiddo.” Jimmy says smiling.
“Thought so. And Deb, while I think you’re awesome, having another brother or sister…at my age…kind of creeps me out.” James offers a kind smile, taking any of the sting his words may cause away and asks, “Did you tell Susie yet?”
Jimmy shakes his head and answers, “I’m not sure how I’m going to bring this up to her. She’s got issues anyhow.”
“Not to sound cruel, but really,” Alex asks, “What is her deal?”
“Really,” James starts, “Maybe she’ll lighten up, but not to make this super heavy, but I think she’s just…she’s been a Daddy’s girl since she was little…on top of her bitter streak about how the divorce ended. Then with dad’s stint of self-induced isolation for a few years.” He looks at Willow, Buffy and then his father, “I mean when you had us over for the first time after everything, dad, you three were close. It hurt her, to understand that you built this life that had nothing to do with her, it’s an issue.”
Jimmy’s face falls a little at this, knowing his son is right. He runs a hand through his hair and concedes, “Junior, I get that some of this is definitely on my shoulders, but you and I have done okay, right?”
“Hey,” his son pacifies, “We’re golden, but don’t take up the blame for the way Susie is right now. Out of everyone, it’s you and me that shouldn’t have a great relationship, but we do. That’s the focus. She wants to focus on the past. She needs to get over herself.”
“Agreed,” Buffy lets her opinion be known. “Old man, you weren’t always Detective Feel Good when we met.”
“True,” Jimmy agrees.
“You know,” Alex pipes up, “that’s got to be an interesting story. How exactly did you two become partners?”
Buffy and Jimmy exchange a look and a conversation in a glance, thinking that it wouldn’t hurt to tell the story.