Book 6, Chapter 3: Purchasing Power
Title: Purchasing Power
Authors: kiltsandlollies and escribo
Characters: Billy, Cate
Word Count: 5649
Summary: Impulsive shopping, and some coffee, too.
Index
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction; the recognizable people in the story belong to themselves and have never performed the actions portrayed here. I do not know the actors nor am I associated with them in any way. If you are underage, please do not read this story. I am not making any profit from these stories, nor do I mean any harm.
Billy loves the four-day period of quiet on Baskerville’s grounds that denotes Reading Week. The students hibernate in the residence halls and libraries, preparing (or just as often not) for their pre-holiday exams, and the professors either play catch-up or skive off campus entirely. For years and in various cities Billy's used this time to finish his holiday shopping, marking things off the wrinkled list that's spent the last few weeks moving between his briefcase, desk, and coat and trouser pockets.
And he's making good progress. Once Dominic had helped him find an appropriately horrific video game and loud music for Margaret's daughter and an unspeakably adorable (and noisy) set of toys and games for her son, Billy had been able to handle most of the rest of his small list himself. Margaret's husband Peter will receive the pool stick he's coveted for months-as soon as Margaret mentioned it in passing, Billy had known he'd never think of a better idea-and a set of new chalk squares. Bottles of good, expensive scotch will be shipped to Professor Haldane back at St. Andrews and to Martin Lonsdale, too, whenever Billy tracks down a proper new address for the man, and some lesser bottles of lesser vintage will serve for his colleagues in the department at Baskerville. A beautiful, dark-green bottle of dark-green ink (with an accompanying fountain pen and stack of cream-coloured paper) belongs to Miranda, and his traditional gift of Stilton and port will go toward the music department's Christmas party, in honour of the practice and play time they allow him during the year. And there is Andrew, who will receive only what Billy feels safest sending to him: a small, framed, black and white print of a photograph Andrew had once encouraged Billy to take, that of a long burnt-bridge, reclaimed from its fiery end by the work of a small town’s brave bunch of pensioners serving as a repair crew. It’s fitting, even if Billy had cringed when Andrew had first suggested the shot.
Billy's surprised by how well the shopping is going this year, frankly, with only three others left to buy for: Dominic, of course, and Billy’s nearly finished with him; Margaret, who is as ever a challenge to buy for, and-well, and Cate, who has merited at least some small purchase, Billy firmly believes, if only because she’s survived well her little time so far at Baskerville, and has been something of a good friend to him. He has an idea for Cate-something small, but lovely, just enough to show his gratitude for the few months' friendship they've shared, but not enough to spook her or show anything he doesn't mean to show-but it's still forming, still being perfected in his mind. He'll know what he wants to get her when he sees it, same as Margaret. For now, the pleasure's in the search, for everyone and everything.
That search has led him to a department store only slightly more crowded than usual, and Billy stuffs his hands in the pockets of his coat, tucking his packages close to his body and moving through the crowds, on the prowl. He can feel the list crinkled against his fingertips, and he inches toward a mirrored wall in ladies' accessories, leaning there and peering once more at the list as if for inspiration. The air is soft and warm with perfume, and the holiday decorations glitter and shine around him, making the atmosphere less cloying than just pretty. Again Billy finds that he's actually enjoying this, and suddenly even more so when he spots Cate a hundred feet away, fingering gloves and scarves with a look of intense concentration on her face. Billy rubs his hands together like a movie villain and takes up his packages again, advancing on her with a broad smile on his face.
"Right, I thought we discussed this," he says smoothly, leaning next to where Cate stands, against the glass case holding a display of stunning scarves. "Red is not a good colour for me."
At the sound of Billy's voice, Cate whirls and Billy notices the brilliant, deeply printed red scarf held aloft between her graceful hands. The color of the silk is the same shade of her lipstick, and her lips stretch into a bright smile when she sees Billy there.
"Who said I was shopping for you?" Cate's expression turns pert, her eyes narrowing even as the corners crinkle up with suppressed mirth. "Then again..." Cate closes the distance between the two of them, draping the long fold of silk over Billy's shoulders, and Billy holds still while Cate takes an appraising step back, eyes sweeping over him for a long moment before shaking her pale head.
"No, you were right. Red isn't your color." Cate removes the scarf from Billy again, and they both sharing a smile when a clerk steps up behind the counter and haughtily asks if they need her assistance. Billy watches, both amused and a little disconcerted as Cate dismisses the young woman with an icy glance and a curt "No, thank you." before hanging the scarf back on the display tree.
Turning to Billy again, Cate nods at his packages and bags. "I see you've been taking advantage of Reading Week." Smile widening, Cate leans in a bit, and her voice drops to a conspiratorial murmur. "Do any of the professors here actually stay on campus for this week? We certainly didn't at St. Andrews." Laughing softly, Cate realizes her slip. "But, you'd know that, wouldn't you?"
"I would," Billy smiles back, his grin very wide. "I can't speak for most professors, but almost everyone I know is running around finishing their shopping this week, just as I am. But I promised myself it would be different this year; I actually made a list." He brandishes the piece of paper like a magician, then just as quickly replaces it in his pocket. Billy's Christmas list currently begins with Dominic, and it would hardly be appropriate for Cate to notice that little detail. Covering the moment, Billy tuts under his breath. "Not that you're allowed to see. Naughty and nice and all that rubbish.'"
It occurs to Billy as he laughs that he might have taken this a step too far. Cate might not want or need a gift of any kind from him, however well-intentioned, and he would hate to have surprised her now into thinking she must get him one as well. Shoving the list further down in his pocket, Billy clears his throat and nods at another rack of stunning, jewel-toned scarves.
"Well, since you're here, Cate, might I put you to good use? You see, I have a sister, who happens to be notoriously difficult to buy for. I'm looking for something she wouldn't necessarily expect. Something a bit nicer, a bit different. So unless you're already busy here, d'you think you could help me?" Billy leans back against the accessories case again and tries to look as charming as possible. 'I'll defer to your opinion, of course," he smirks, "at least in this, and maybe buy you a coffee on your way out?"
Cate gathers up her own small shopping bags, and she loops her free arm around the crook of Billy's elbow, settling herself next to him comfortably. "I'd be more than happy to help, Bill. It certainly will be better than shopping for my incredibly fussy aunt." Cate makes a bit of a face, and she and Billy share a laugh as he picks up his own shopping bags once again.
The two of them begin to walk in step, taking their time up the aisle, and Billy finds to his surprise that he's not blushing at Cate's touch, hasn’t flinched or tensed up as he might have another time. And Billy can't deny how smart he and Cate look next to each other as they pass the mirrored walls in the store. There’s that irritating height difference, but Cate tucks herself so far-but not so much as to be forward, in the phrase Billy's gran would take, or at least as forward as Cate’s been at other moments they’ve spent together-into Billy that she doesn't seems quite so towering as usual. Which is not to say she's shrinking any, either. She's still willowy and bright and very pretty-all things that catch the stares of shoppers as they walk by. Billy can't hold back a smirk of pride that Cate's his friend, and that she's comfortable enough with him to feel she can do this.
"So,” Cate says firmly. “Tell me more about this sister of yours. What's she like?"
"Margaret's ..." Billy stops to think, and smile. "Good fun. Much more fun than I am. Very dirty laugh after a few glasses of wine. Loves the Beatles. It's funny, Cate; she leaves Scotland whenever she can to find the sun, in Italy for the most part, but she always comes back. It's in her blood, and mine too, I suppose. Though she's always running to Italy-Tuscany and all that-and I prefer Paris. She's ... what else? She's done a lot of things. Been a carer, been a stylist, been-just, lots of things. She ought to have found work as travel consultant. When we were small, I called her the worst names until she set a neighbour's dog on me. Oh, and she's short. Shorter than I am, and let me tell you that was vital when we were growing up. Too much and not enough, right?"
Billy quiets himself, stopping them in front of a display of vases and crystal. Billy peers at the reflection of himself and Cate in the glass and frowns a bit, but turns the corners of his lips back up as he meets Cate's blazing eyes. "I've got no idea what to get her. Not a clue. I'll take any ideas you've got."
Cate's gaze falls to the display she and Billy are standing in front of, and after inspecting the heavy crystal and blown glass for only a moment, she shakes her head dismissively, looking to Billy again with a knowing smile. "Well, if she has little ones underfoot, she most definitely won't want one of these." Cate pauses, frowning thoughtfully, as if considering her challenge.
"I know exactly what you need. But..." and Cate looks around once more. "We won't find it here." Taking Billy's arm again, Cate leads the way to the escalator, never hesitating in her step, even through the bottlenecked crowd at the top of the moving staircase.
As they descend to the lower lever of the department store, Cate glances to Billy from the corner of her eye, and she laughs at his visible nerves, following his stare as his gaze moves from one end of the floor to the other, at the various sections of the vast building. When they reach the bottom of the staircase, Cate takes up the lead once more, and she doesn't stop as the two of them reach the women's department, specifically the lingerie department, where Cate turns to a surprised Billy, her smile very bright.
"I'm not suggesting you buy something risqué for your sister. That's a lover's gift," Cate laughs, then takes Billy's hand in her own, easing him forward anyway, closer to the racks of fine and frilly things. "Even if she might love whatever you found for her. I imagine you’ve got fairly good taste.”
Billy doesn’t answer, just raises his eyebrows and thinks back to the last time he found himself in a women's lingerie department voluntarily, a good ten years ago. Five weeks before his twenty-fifth birthday, he'd spent nearly two hours trolling through the racks of a Marks & Spencer's in London, looking for just the right little number in peach and black-something that would complement the late-summer-peach skin of Lena Schönberg, the last woman Billy ever-well, the last woman Billy would or imagines could ever call a lover.
Less than half an hour after he'd made his purchases that day, Billy had met a friend for lunch. Over their meal, that friend had confided to Billy several secrets, few of which surprised Billy, and at least one that pleased him enormously in a peevish, perverse way. A few more drinks later, and Billy had slammed that friend against a wall of the flat he shared with Lena and fucked him until they both fell to their knees, exhausted. Coming out his stupor, the friend confided one last secret: that he'd been sleeping with Lena for months, and that he would do anything to have them both, just once-just once, think, Billy, think of it.
Billy had refastened his trousers and stepped over his friend calmly on his way out the door. It was a lucky thing, Billy thinks now, that he’d remembered to take his keys.
These aren't memories Billy chooses to dwell on for more than a moment. Cate's spirit of fun has risen to her surface, risen into her eyes and made them so warm and kind, but challenging, too. And her hand, curled in Billy's, pulls him forward and away from the racks filled with soft, beautiful things coloured pink and lilac and grey and blue and of course, peach and black.
"I don't know that I'm the most qualified to buy these things for anybody," Billy says, laughing when Cate turns to him with a wide smile. "I mean, I'd rather not picture my sister like that, if you understand. And I don’t think I’m that desperate for ideas yet-"
Cate nods, laughing, too, pulling him along to the next section, one stocked with beautiful prepared gifts and foodstuffs. Billy looks down at their hands, still surprised to see that even his own fair skin looks warmly tanned compared to Cate’s alabaster paleness. Lena was not pale, or even fair. When she tanned, her skin took on a deeply burnished glow that made Billy ache for countries he'd never seen and for the taste of wine he'd only sipped at other people's tables. Cate, however ... well, Billy’s not dwelling on that, not when she’s suddenly stopped them in front of a case of wine.
“There’s a start,” Cate says, low and conspiratorial. “Right, Italy. You’ll bring her a taste of it for when she returns, so it’s like she never left, or it came back with her from her holiday. Bring a bit of sunshine to …“ Cate pauses, tilts her head at peers at Billy. “Glasgow, hmm? Glasgow. It’ll be lovely, trust me.”
“I’d love to,” Billy laughs. “What… exactly are we bringing her then?”
“Wine, of course. And good olive oil, and some of that lovely fabric in these linens-” Cate points to a nearby table. “Some of these soaps and lotions, for the kitchen as well as the bath. And a scarf,” she says firmly. “Not to wrap everything up in like something out of a women’s magazine. Something much more beautiful than that.”
“More beautiful,” Billy nods. “More expensive.” When Cate looks over her shoulder at him, Billy laughs again. “Y’never heard me say that. Go on, I’m listening. This is definitely better than some books.”
Cate marches him around the entire section, pointing this way and that until they’ve gathered together an assortment of gorgeously scented, lovingly printed and woven gifts Cate deems worthy of their placement in an enormous hamper Billy would never ordinarily think of as to Margaret’s taste, but Cate assures him it just works, and that’s the end of it. Her smile as she does so is charming enough that Billy offers her a mock bow and nod, waving her toward a till with everything in tow, the pleasure in her face intense. As they walk, a clerk catches Billy's eye and smiles, and he smiles back, happy that she's happy, that they're all happy. This is a shopping experience he hadn't expected to have today; why not enjoy the difference of it?
"Now for the moment of truth, yeah?" Billy sighs, watching as item after item is rung up quietly. Cate grabs his hand again, encouraging him in a lovely, distracted way until the final total’s presented, and Billy releases an odd little noise.
"Well. That's definitely more than a few books, then.” Cate laughs, and Billy sets his shoulders, handing over his card before he turns back to Cate. “I’m really going t’need that coffee now."
Cate squeezes his left hand a bit tighter, threading her fingers between Billy's before she frees herself and rests her hand between tense shoulderblades as he signs the credit card slip, rubbing there in a soothing circle. Billy works hard not to tense up any further, concentrating instead on his penmanship and then rising to his full height to watch his packages being wrapped in tissue and then arranged in the hamper before the whole thing is set inside a large handled bag and handed proudly to him by the clerk. Her knowing little smile is almost as bright as Cate's, and Billy looks between them, strangely enjoying their shared glee at what they’ve accomplished here.
"There, now. That wasn't so bad, was it?" Cate smiles, sliding her hand underneath Billy’s arm once he’s rearranged all his purchases. “And now you can have that coffee."
There is a lovely coffee house just next door, for which they're both suddenly, visibly grateful, as the weather has turned quite chilly. The threat of rain is heavy in the air, and she and Billy hurry up the walk and into the aromatic shop, grateful for the warmth and light inside.
"Let me take those for you, and I'll get us a table." She reaches for Billy's bags, but he hesitates, and she laughs indulgently. "I won't peek. I promise." He hands them over then, still a bit reluctant, and she carries both armloads full to a table near the window, carefully setting everything down on and around the spare chair while Billy waits at the counter to place their order.
Billy's succumbed easily enough to the giddy rush of a purchase that's cost him more than he intended. Cate's enthusiasm helps a great deal, as does the clerk's cheery goodbye and the sense of calm the department store seems to pipe in through the air vents or something, or at least Billy imagines it, with the typical mind-working of an over-enthusiastic reader of science fiction. But with the amount of money he's just spent, Billy determines that he deserves a sense of peace, however manufactured. And as he and Cate leave the store, Billy smirks at their reflection in another mirrored wall. This smug sort of peace looks good on both of them.
Still, the cafe is one Billy knows as cheap and good, and the combination makes him even happier. He looks over his shoulder at Cate settling in at their table before turning back to the menu, grateful for his third place in line that allows him time to recover from his usual counter paralysis. It wouldn't quite do to order everything in sight-as he often does when out with Dominic, whose very presence seems to up Billy's natural greed by several levels, on several levels-and so Billy concentrates, trying to think of what would seems a tasteful kind of treat to go with the promised coffee. There are cakes and tarts and pies of many kinds in front of him, and Billy has no shame in staring before making his choices.
A few minutes and (in comparison to the bill in the lingerie department) a handful of pounds later, Billy's strolling to the little window table with a tray half-covered in mugs and plates. Cate looks up with a smile as he arrives, and he tuts at her offer to help, instead pulling out napkins with a flourish and placing her coffee before her.
"Espresso," Billy smiles. "I didn't take you for lots of cream or sugar, but it's there if you want it. And biscotti, which I promise not to tell anyone if I catch you dunking. And that there," Billy points to an enormous slice of cake, its top covered with a thick, pale-cream frosting. "Is chocolate Guinness cake, which you will try before leaving here even if it requires force-feeding. Not to say you can particularly taste the Guinness in it, more's the pity. But it's there; you'll notice how dense the cake seems in one bite and then how light in the next. You'll be glad to know I didn't order my usual amount of it, either. Or at least you should be; I don't as a rule like to practice restraint." Billy tilts his head and raises his eyebrows, his thoughts flitting elsewhere for just a half-second. "Least not on m'self."
When Billy's eyes return to Cate, her expression amused, Billy lets out a great gust of laughter and shakes out his own napkin. "Tuck in, don't wait for me." As he reaches for his espresso, Billy smiles very cheekily over the lip of the cup. "So have you accomplished all your shopping then, Cate? And have I proven to be your hardest case to buy for, after your aunt?"
Adding a bit of sugar to her espresso, Cate stirs the aromatic liquid with her biscotti, causing Billy to raise his brows. She laughs then, smiling as she helps herself to a healthy bite, and washes it down with a long swallow, indulging in licking her thumb and first finger when she sets the biscotti aside.
"I don't believe much in restraint either. Not when it comes to personal pleasures," Cate sighs, leaning her elbows on the table and grinning at Billy. "There are far too many sweet things in this world to not at least sample them all. Perhaps it was a bit difficult ... after all, if I'd bought you something practical, like a desk set, you'd only have lost it in your office."
"Too right. But remember, Cate, there's genius in clutter. You might have to dig to find it, but it's there. And really, y'don't have to get me anything. That we can just talk's enough for me."
It’s a strange, pleasant truth, too. Billy likes Cate a great deal, and has spoken with her more easily, openly and cheerfully (if sometimes also dangerously) than he has to anyone else at Baskerville now, save Dominic, of course, and on the rare occasions when they have time to chat, Miranda. Cate's on a different level of friendship from the two of them, but she is a friend nonetheless, whatever strange currents have run between them, or Billy would have hidden behind the racks in the store rather than approach her. As it is, he can hardly wait now to send the gift on its way and wait for Margaret's reaction. She'll be far away from Scotland when Christmas comes, so Billy will have to wait to see how it goes, but in the meantime, Billy will find his own amusement, and how.
"Will you be staying at Baskerville over the holiday, Cate?" Billy asks carefully, politely, distracting himself too from thoughts he doesn’t need to ponder too hard at the moment. "If you are, I should warn you, only one of the pubs stays open regular hours, and the best bookshop is closed from Christmas Day to New Year's. I don't recommend staying put unless you're interested in solitude." Billy takes an enormous drink from his coffee, then raises his eyebrows over the lip of the mug and stares out the window of the little cafe, swiping his hand over the foggy glass to clear it. He points out to where a man with an open notebook stands next to a woman setting up an elaborate tripod and camera setup across the street.
"Look at that," Billy snorts, irritability rising in his voice. "I'd heard they were planning a feature on the old cinema, and there they are taking pictures. 's ridiculous; there no proper light today for photos, even in black and white. They're doing it no justice, Cate. I could send them some of mine and they'd serve better." Billy frowns, propping his chin in his hand, then turning back to Cate and letting his frown turn back into a smile. "Sorry. I love photography. You have your drawings, I take pictures. But I apologize, I keep asking you questions and not letting you answer. Are you staying here over Christmas?"
"I'll be spending a bit of time in Italy. Visiting old haunts." Cate lets her brows quirk at this, and she laughs a moment later, Billy laughing along with her. "Actually, I like to go back when I can. It helps to keep my skills with the language sharp. And Italy's so beautiful in the winter." Leaning her chin on her hand, Cate's voice goes soft, and her gaze drifts. "It's lovely to see the landscape and the cathedrals all dusted with snow … one does not have to be a disciple of philosophy to enjoy beauty for beauty's sake. I can look at snowflakes without turning mathematical equations over in my head, I swear." Cate's eyes drop momentarily to the table, flicking back up a moment later, their corners crinkled with mirth. "I can also see that if you're not going to start in on this cake, then I'm going to have to." And she takes up a fork, in her eyes a new challenge to Billy to beat her to the first bite.
Billy's surprised by Cate's ravenous little look at the cake, and draws his fork up like a sword to match hers halfway there. The tines clang together, and Billy nearly cackles with delight before untangling his fork from Cate's and stabbing at his side of the small, dense cake. He's swallowed a mouthful before he begins to speak again.
"Oh, Christ, so good. Italy, hmm? Margaret's going there as well, though 'm sure she won't be anywhere near you, if you're looking forward to snow. She wants warmth and sunlight, so she'll be in the south. I can understand why, I guess. Grey and sleety's not for everyone." Billy smiles again, swiveling the cake plate around to catch a large crumb that's fallen and scooping it up with his fork.
"Beauty's in everything. I'm guilty of ignoring the beauty in science, yes, but not of your capacity to see it there or anywhere else. Not anymore." Billy's smile high at one corner of his lips. "I underestimated you. I tend to do that to people I don't know well, y’should forgive me that. But Italy, hmm. The museums, God, I'd love to go and see them. I'm no museum junkie, but there are some things you must see in this life, however hyped to the skies they are, and the museums of Italy rank high on that list."
Billy laughs at the newspaper photographer climbing a small ladder to shoot a close up of the cinema's elaborate moulding around its facade, and then turns back to Cate, his expression intense, but not terribly so.
"When you get back, you'll have to tell me about where you went, what you saw ... in great detail, of course. And I hope you take a camera with you. Take some black and whites and we'll get them framed, yeah?"
Cate coughs lightly but she hides it behind her napkin, dabbing at the corners of her mouth to cover it up. She sets her fork aside then, and takes another sip of her espresso, and Billy can feel her eyes on him, watching in amusement as Billy helps himself to two -no, three-more bites of cake before he releases his own fork.
The sound of thunder rumbles suddenly in the distance, and both Cate and Billy turn their heads to look outside. The weather's gotten darker and much more dreary since they entered the coffee shop only a little while ago, and Cate's not surprised when the first raindrops begin to fall, hitting the pavement outside and then the window. Across the street, the cameraman and his assistant struggle to gather up their equipment, but Cate can see the two of them are laughing as they run to the van that's parked on the curb, piling in before driving off.
"I suppose you were right," Cate smiles again as she turns back to Billy. "It wasn't a good time to take a photograph of the cinema. They should have asked you first." Cate takes up her fork again, and indulges in one more bite of the cake, making sure it's heavy with cream. She licks the tines of her fork with a laugh, about as unrepentantly greedy as Billy thinks she can appear before she finally sets it aside.
"So, I've told you all about my holiday plans, but what about you? Have a fabulous escape all planned for yourself, Bill?"
"Not a holiday, no," Billy laughs, putting his fork down and taking up his coffee instead. "But you could call it an escape, I suppose. I'll call it fabulous all the same. I'm staying in town and finishing-at least I hope I'll finish it-something I've been working on for a long time. Publish or perish and all that, right? St. Andrew's has agreed to publish this-screed of mine that's been brewing for a few years.” Cate’s eyebrows shoot up, and Billy laughs. “I'm not sure why. Maybe their quota is running low for next year."
Billy tilts his head and relaxes his shoulders, feeling very much at ease now in the warm cafe with the rain pouring down outside. "I had an offer to go away, but I think it's better that I stay here. And Baskerville's surprisingly lovely in the evenings around Christmas. Quiet. 's good for long walks and such." Billy laughs again at Cate's bemused expression. "I don’t celebrate the holidays like most people do, Cate. Don't worry; I tend to catch up over New Year's, and then I’ll be getting away. We should get together soon after term begins again," Billy says, to keep Cate from questioning his destination, his smile very broad. "And maybe if y’haven’t been not naughty I'll find time to bring you your gift before you leave."
“Don’t force me to make promises I can’t keep,” Cate says simply, her smile thin and sharp. “I’ll find time to get it from you whether I’ve been naughty or not. Where are you off to?”
“Not sure.” It’s not entirely a lie, Billy decides as he raises his coffee to his lips once more. There is no single place in Paris Billy intends to stay for more than an hour or so, other than a good bed. “But I’m going to make it worth my while. I’ll get you a souvenir, Cate.”
Cate hums, pleased with that, then sits back in her chair and stares out the window again. “I’d like to be able to just get a taxi at this point, Bill. I can see I’m going to have to fight the hordes in this rain.”
Billy takes another quick, hard drink of his coffee, holding himself back from offering Cate a ride in his car. He’s not sure he’s got the strength for that, not after all-this today, and besides, he’s not finished shopping; there are still some things he needs to pick up before the occasion of another holiday of sorts, this one more quickly approaching. He’s saved from having to say anything when Cate sighs again and leans forward a little to speak more quietly to him.
“In any case, I have things I want to clear off my plate as soon as possible before I get into proper holiday thoughts. They’ve placed me on the judiciary committee, of all things-” Billy nearly drops his coffee, his face feeling hot even as he starts to laugh, and Cate rolls her eyes. “I’m just as amused as you are, I promise you. They tell me it’s a bit of a rite of passage here, one for which I was very much not prepared.”
“I don’t think they’re prepared for you on it, either, if that’s any consolation,” Billy grins, raising his coffee cup like a tankard. “Hang them high, Cate.”
“Wouldn’t I love to.” Cate shoots Billy a mock-stern glare, then props her chin in her hand. “Judging children for their boring little university misdemeanors, I can’t think of anything I’d enjoy more. Plagiarism, petty harassments and vandalism, it goes on and on, apparently.”
“You might enjoy it.” Billy raises his eyebrows now, not backing down when Cate’s next stare is a bit more challenging than before. “There’s a certain-pleasure in sorting someone out,” he says firmly. “When they need it, of course. There’s a responsibility in it, too, though, Cate. And y’have to have earned it, and keep earning it, and prove yourself right before they’ll understand why you’re doing it.” Billy stops, then, still holding Cate’s gaze until she finally blinks, something warm and pleased and all too unnervingly familiar to Billy moving over her face.
“Well, we’ll find out, won’t we?” Cate says gently, rising from the table, leaning forward on her palms and grinning widely at Billy. “You’ll have to let me know how Margaret enjoys her gift. I have to run now. Be well, professor,” she murmurs, then, coming around the side of the table with her bags and leaning in close enough that Billy can smell her faint, soft perfume before she brushes a kiss to his cheek and then taps him lightly on the shoulder. “I’d never demand you be good.”
Authors: kiltsandlollies and escribo
Characters: Billy, Cate
Word Count: 5649
Summary: Impulsive shopping, and some coffee, too.
Index
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction; the recognizable people in the story belong to themselves and have never performed the actions portrayed here. I do not know the actors nor am I associated with them in any way. If you are underage, please do not read this story. I am not making any profit from these stories, nor do I mean any harm.
Billy loves the four-day period of quiet on Baskerville’s grounds that denotes Reading Week. The students hibernate in the residence halls and libraries, preparing (or just as often not) for their pre-holiday exams, and the professors either play catch-up or skive off campus entirely. For years and in various cities Billy's used this time to finish his holiday shopping, marking things off the wrinkled list that's spent the last few weeks moving between his briefcase, desk, and coat and trouser pockets.
And he's making good progress. Once Dominic had helped him find an appropriately horrific video game and loud music for Margaret's daughter and an unspeakably adorable (and noisy) set of toys and games for her son, Billy had been able to handle most of the rest of his small list himself. Margaret's husband Peter will receive the pool stick he's coveted for months-as soon as Margaret mentioned it in passing, Billy had known he'd never think of a better idea-and a set of new chalk squares. Bottles of good, expensive scotch will be shipped to Professor Haldane back at St. Andrews and to Martin Lonsdale, too, whenever Billy tracks down a proper new address for the man, and some lesser bottles of lesser vintage will serve for his colleagues in the department at Baskerville. A beautiful, dark-green bottle of dark-green ink (with an accompanying fountain pen and stack of cream-coloured paper) belongs to Miranda, and his traditional gift of Stilton and port will go toward the music department's Christmas party, in honour of the practice and play time they allow him during the year. And there is Andrew, who will receive only what Billy feels safest sending to him: a small, framed, black and white print of a photograph Andrew had once encouraged Billy to take, that of a long burnt-bridge, reclaimed from its fiery end by the work of a small town’s brave bunch of pensioners serving as a repair crew. It’s fitting, even if Billy had cringed when Andrew had first suggested the shot.
Billy's surprised by how well the shopping is going this year, frankly, with only three others left to buy for: Dominic, of course, and Billy’s nearly finished with him; Margaret, who is as ever a challenge to buy for, and-well, and Cate, who has merited at least some small purchase, Billy firmly believes, if only because she’s survived well her little time so far at Baskerville, and has been something of a good friend to him. He has an idea for Cate-something small, but lovely, just enough to show his gratitude for the few months' friendship they've shared, but not enough to spook her or show anything he doesn't mean to show-but it's still forming, still being perfected in his mind. He'll know what he wants to get her when he sees it, same as Margaret. For now, the pleasure's in the search, for everyone and everything.
That search has led him to a department store only slightly more crowded than usual, and Billy stuffs his hands in the pockets of his coat, tucking his packages close to his body and moving through the crowds, on the prowl. He can feel the list crinkled against his fingertips, and he inches toward a mirrored wall in ladies' accessories, leaning there and peering once more at the list as if for inspiration. The air is soft and warm with perfume, and the holiday decorations glitter and shine around him, making the atmosphere less cloying than just pretty. Again Billy finds that he's actually enjoying this, and suddenly even more so when he spots Cate a hundred feet away, fingering gloves and scarves with a look of intense concentration on her face. Billy rubs his hands together like a movie villain and takes up his packages again, advancing on her with a broad smile on his face.
"Right, I thought we discussed this," he says smoothly, leaning next to where Cate stands, against the glass case holding a display of stunning scarves. "Red is not a good colour for me."
At the sound of Billy's voice, Cate whirls and Billy notices the brilliant, deeply printed red scarf held aloft between her graceful hands. The color of the silk is the same shade of her lipstick, and her lips stretch into a bright smile when she sees Billy there.
"Who said I was shopping for you?" Cate's expression turns pert, her eyes narrowing even as the corners crinkle up with suppressed mirth. "Then again..." Cate closes the distance between the two of them, draping the long fold of silk over Billy's shoulders, and Billy holds still while Cate takes an appraising step back, eyes sweeping over him for a long moment before shaking her pale head.
"No, you were right. Red isn't your color." Cate removes the scarf from Billy again, and they both sharing a smile when a clerk steps up behind the counter and haughtily asks if they need her assistance. Billy watches, both amused and a little disconcerted as Cate dismisses the young woman with an icy glance and a curt "No, thank you." before hanging the scarf back on the display tree.
Turning to Billy again, Cate nods at his packages and bags. "I see you've been taking advantage of Reading Week." Smile widening, Cate leans in a bit, and her voice drops to a conspiratorial murmur. "Do any of the professors here actually stay on campus for this week? We certainly didn't at St. Andrews." Laughing softly, Cate realizes her slip. "But, you'd know that, wouldn't you?"
"I would," Billy smiles back, his grin very wide. "I can't speak for most professors, but almost everyone I know is running around finishing their shopping this week, just as I am. But I promised myself it would be different this year; I actually made a list." He brandishes the piece of paper like a magician, then just as quickly replaces it in his pocket. Billy's Christmas list currently begins with Dominic, and it would hardly be appropriate for Cate to notice that little detail. Covering the moment, Billy tuts under his breath. "Not that you're allowed to see. Naughty and nice and all that rubbish.'"
It occurs to Billy as he laughs that he might have taken this a step too far. Cate might not want or need a gift of any kind from him, however well-intentioned, and he would hate to have surprised her now into thinking she must get him one as well. Shoving the list further down in his pocket, Billy clears his throat and nods at another rack of stunning, jewel-toned scarves.
"Well, since you're here, Cate, might I put you to good use? You see, I have a sister, who happens to be notoriously difficult to buy for. I'm looking for something she wouldn't necessarily expect. Something a bit nicer, a bit different. So unless you're already busy here, d'you think you could help me?" Billy leans back against the accessories case again and tries to look as charming as possible. 'I'll defer to your opinion, of course," he smirks, "at least in this, and maybe buy you a coffee on your way out?"
Cate gathers up her own small shopping bags, and she loops her free arm around the crook of Billy's elbow, settling herself next to him comfortably. "I'd be more than happy to help, Bill. It certainly will be better than shopping for my incredibly fussy aunt." Cate makes a bit of a face, and she and Billy share a laugh as he picks up his own shopping bags once again.
The two of them begin to walk in step, taking their time up the aisle, and Billy finds to his surprise that he's not blushing at Cate's touch, hasn’t flinched or tensed up as he might have another time. And Billy can't deny how smart he and Cate look next to each other as they pass the mirrored walls in the store. There’s that irritating height difference, but Cate tucks herself so far-but not so much as to be forward, in the phrase Billy's gran would take, or at least as forward as Cate’s been at other moments they’ve spent together-into Billy that she doesn't seems quite so towering as usual. Which is not to say she's shrinking any, either. She's still willowy and bright and very pretty-all things that catch the stares of shoppers as they walk by. Billy can't hold back a smirk of pride that Cate's his friend, and that she's comfortable enough with him to feel she can do this.
"So,” Cate says firmly. “Tell me more about this sister of yours. What's she like?"
"Margaret's ..." Billy stops to think, and smile. "Good fun. Much more fun than I am. Very dirty laugh after a few glasses of wine. Loves the Beatles. It's funny, Cate; she leaves Scotland whenever she can to find the sun, in Italy for the most part, but she always comes back. It's in her blood, and mine too, I suppose. Though she's always running to Italy-Tuscany and all that-and I prefer Paris. She's ... what else? She's done a lot of things. Been a carer, been a stylist, been-just, lots of things. She ought to have found work as travel consultant. When we were small, I called her the worst names until she set a neighbour's dog on me. Oh, and she's short. Shorter than I am, and let me tell you that was vital when we were growing up. Too much and not enough, right?"
Billy quiets himself, stopping them in front of a display of vases and crystal. Billy peers at the reflection of himself and Cate in the glass and frowns a bit, but turns the corners of his lips back up as he meets Cate's blazing eyes. "I've got no idea what to get her. Not a clue. I'll take any ideas you've got."
Cate's gaze falls to the display she and Billy are standing in front of, and after inspecting the heavy crystal and blown glass for only a moment, she shakes her head dismissively, looking to Billy again with a knowing smile. "Well, if she has little ones underfoot, she most definitely won't want one of these." Cate pauses, frowning thoughtfully, as if considering her challenge.
"I know exactly what you need. But..." and Cate looks around once more. "We won't find it here." Taking Billy's arm again, Cate leads the way to the escalator, never hesitating in her step, even through the bottlenecked crowd at the top of the moving staircase.
As they descend to the lower lever of the department store, Cate glances to Billy from the corner of her eye, and she laughs at his visible nerves, following his stare as his gaze moves from one end of the floor to the other, at the various sections of the vast building. When they reach the bottom of the staircase, Cate takes up the lead once more, and she doesn't stop as the two of them reach the women's department, specifically the lingerie department, where Cate turns to a surprised Billy, her smile very bright.
"I'm not suggesting you buy something risqué for your sister. That's a lover's gift," Cate laughs, then takes Billy's hand in her own, easing him forward anyway, closer to the racks of fine and frilly things. "Even if she might love whatever you found for her. I imagine you’ve got fairly good taste.”
Billy doesn’t answer, just raises his eyebrows and thinks back to the last time he found himself in a women's lingerie department voluntarily, a good ten years ago. Five weeks before his twenty-fifth birthday, he'd spent nearly two hours trolling through the racks of a Marks & Spencer's in London, looking for just the right little number in peach and black-something that would complement the late-summer-peach skin of Lena Schönberg, the last woman Billy ever-well, the last woman Billy would or imagines could ever call a lover.
Less than half an hour after he'd made his purchases that day, Billy had met a friend for lunch. Over their meal, that friend had confided to Billy several secrets, few of which surprised Billy, and at least one that pleased him enormously in a peevish, perverse way. A few more drinks later, and Billy had slammed that friend against a wall of the flat he shared with Lena and fucked him until they both fell to their knees, exhausted. Coming out his stupor, the friend confided one last secret: that he'd been sleeping with Lena for months, and that he would do anything to have them both, just once-just once, think, Billy, think of it.
Billy had refastened his trousers and stepped over his friend calmly on his way out the door. It was a lucky thing, Billy thinks now, that he’d remembered to take his keys.
These aren't memories Billy chooses to dwell on for more than a moment. Cate's spirit of fun has risen to her surface, risen into her eyes and made them so warm and kind, but challenging, too. And her hand, curled in Billy's, pulls him forward and away from the racks filled with soft, beautiful things coloured pink and lilac and grey and blue and of course, peach and black.
"I don't know that I'm the most qualified to buy these things for anybody," Billy says, laughing when Cate turns to him with a wide smile. "I mean, I'd rather not picture my sister like that, if you understand. And I don’t think I’m that desperate for ideas yet-"
Cate nods, laughing, too, pulling him along to the next section, one stocked with beautiful prepared gifts and foodstuffs. Billy looks down at their hands, still surprised to see that even his own fair skin looks warmly tanned compared to Cate’s alabaster paleness. Lena was not pale, or even fair. When she tanned, her skin took on a deeply burnished glow that made Billy ache for countries he'd never seen and for the taste of wine he'd only sipped at other people's tables. Cate, however ... well, Billy’s not dwelling on that, not when she’s suddenly stopped them in front of a case of wine.
“There’s a start,” Cate says, low and conspiratorial. “Right, Italy. You’ll bring her a taste of it for when she returns, so it’s like she never left, or it came back with her from her holiday. Bring a bit of sunshine to …“ Cate pauses, tilts her head at peers at Billy. “Glasgow, hmm? Glasgow. It’ll be lovely, trust me.”
“I’d love to,” Billy laughs. “What… exactly are we bringing her then?”
“Wine, of course. And good olive oil, and some of that lovely fabric in these linens-” Cate points to a nearby table. “Some of these soaps and lotions, for the kitchen as well as the bath. And a scarf,” she says firmly. “Not to wrap everything up in like something out of a women’s magazine. Something much more beautiful than that.”
“More beautiful,” Billy nods. “More expensive.” When Cate looks over her shoulder at him, Billy laughs again. “Y’never heard me say that. Go on, I’m listening. This is definitely better than some books.”
Cate marches him around the entire section, pointing this way and that until they’ve gathered together an assortment of gorgeously scented, lovingly printed and woven gifts Cate deems worthy of their placement in an enormous hamper Billy would never ordinarily think of as to Margaret’s taste, but Cate assures him it just works, and that’s the end of it. Her smile as she does so is charming enough that Billy offers her a mock bow and nod, waving her toward a till with everything in tow, the pleasure in her face intense. As they walk, a clerk catches Billy's eye and smiles, and he smiles back, happy that she's happy, that they're all happy. This is a shopping experience he hadn't expected to have today; why not enjoy the difference of it?
"Now for the moment of truth, yeah?" Billy sighs, watching as item after item is rung up quietly. Cate grabs his hand again, encouraging him in a lovely, distracted way until the final total’s presented, and Billy releases an odd little noise.
"Well. That's definitely more than a few books, then.” Cate laughs, and Billy sets his shoulders, handing over his card before he turns back to Cate. “I’m really going t’need that coffee now."
Cate squeezes his left hand a bit tighter, threading her fingers between Billy's before she frees herself and rests her hand between tense shoulderblades as he signs the credit card slip, rubbing there in a soothing circle. Billy works hard not to tense up any further, concentrating instead on his penmanship and then rising to his full height to watch his packages being wrapped in tissue and then arranged in the hamper before the whole thing is set inside a large handled bag and handed proudly to him by the clerk. Her knowing little smile is almost as bright as Cate's, and Billy looks between them, strangely enjoying their shared glee at what they’ve accomplished here.
"There, now. That wasn't so bad, was it?" Cate smiles, sliding her hand underneath Billy’s arm once he’s rearranged all his purchases. “And now you can have that coffee."
There is a lovely coffee house just next door, for which they're both suddenly, visibly grateful, as the weather has turned quite chilly. The threat of rain is heavy in the air, and she and Billy hurry up the walk and into the aromatic shop, grateful for the warmth and light inside.
"Let me take those for you, and I'll get us a table." She reaches for Billy's bags, but he hesitates, and she laughs indulgently. "I won't peek. I promise." He hands them over then, still a bit reluctant, and she carries both armloads full to a table near the window, carefully setting everything down on and around the spare chair while Billy waits at the counter to place their order.
Billy's succumbed easily enough to the giddy rush of a purchase that's cost him more than he intended. Cate's enthusiasm helps a great deal, as does the clerk's cheery goodbye and the sense of calm the department store seems to pipe in through the air vents or something, or at least Billy imagines it, with the typical mind-working of an over-enthusiastic reader of science fiction. But with the amount of money he's just spent, Billy determines that he deserves a sense of peace, however manufactured. And as he and Cate leave the store, Billy smirks at their reflection in another mirrored wall. This smug sort of peace looks good on both of them.
Still, the cafe is one Billy knows as cheap and good, and the combination makes him even happier. He looks over his shoulder at Cate settling in at their table before turning back to the menu, grateful for his third place in line that allows him time to recover from his usual counter paralysis. It wouldn't quite do to order everything in sight-as he often does when out with Dominic, whose very presence seems to up Billy's natural greed by several levels, on several levels-and so Billy concentrates, trying to think of what would seems a tasteful kind of treat to go with the promised coffee. There are cakes and tarts and pies of many kinds in front of him, and Billy has no shame in staring before making his choices.
A few minutes and (in comparison to the bill in the lingerie department) a handful of pounds later, Billy's strolling to the little window table with a tray half-covered in mugs and plates. Cate looks up with a smile as he arrives, and he tuts at her offer to help, instead pulling out napkins with a flourish and placing her coffee before her.
"Espresso," Billy smiles. "I didn't take you for lots of cream or sugar, but it's there if you want it. And biscotti, which I promise not to tell anyone if I catch you dunking. And that there," Billy points to an enormous slice of cake, its top covered with a thick, pale-cream frosting. "Is chocolate Guinness cake, which you will try before leaving here even if it requires force-feeding. Not to say you can particularly taste the Guinness in it, more's the pity. But it's there; you'll notice how dense the cake seems in one bite and then how light in the next. You'll be glad to know I didn't order my usual amount of it, either. Or at least you should be; I don't as a rule like to practice restraint." Billy tilts his head and raises his eyebrows, his thoughts flitting elsewhere for just a half-second. "Least not on m'self."
When Billy's eyes return to Cate, her expression amused, Billy lets out a great gust of laughter and shakes out his own napkin. "Tuck in, don't wait for me." As he reaches for his espresso, Billy smiles very cheekily over the lip of the cup. "So have you accomplished all your shopping then, Cate? And have I proven to be your hardest case to buy for, after your aunt?"
Adding a bit of sugar to her espresso, Cate stirs the aromatic liquid with her biscotti, causing Billy to raise his brows. She laughs then, smiling as she helps herself to a healthy bite, and washes it down with a long swallow, indulging in licking her thumb and first finger when she sets the biscotti aside.
"I don't believe much in restraint either. Not when it comes to personal pleasures," Cate sighs, leaning her elbows on the table and grinning at Billy. "There are far too many sweet things in this world to not at least sample them all. Perhaps it was a bit difficult ... after all, if I'd bought you something practical, like a desk set, you'd only have lost it in your office."
"Too right. But remember, Cate, there's genius in clutter. You might have to dig to find it, but it's there. And really, y'don't have to get me anything. That we can just talk's enough for me."
It’s a strange, pleasant truth, too. Billy likes Cate a great deal, and has spoken with her more easily, openly and cheerfully (if sometimes also dangerously) than he has to anyone else at Baskerville now, save Dominic, of course, and on the rare occasions when they have time to chat, Miranda. Cate's on a different level of friendship from the two of them, but she is a friend nonetheless, whatever strange currents have run between them, or Billy would have hidden behind the racks in the store rather than approach her. As it is, he can hardly wait now to send the gift on its way and wait for Margaret's reaction. She'll be far away from Scotland when Christmas comes, so Billy will have to wait to see how it goes, but in the meantime, Billy will find his own amusement, and how.
"Will you be staying at Baskerville over the holiday, Cate?" Billy asks carefully, politely, distracting himself too from thoughts he doesn’t need to ponder too hard at the moment. "If you are, I should warn you, only one of the pubs stays open regular hours, and the best bookshop is closed from Christmas Day to New Year's. I don't recommend staying put unless you're interested in solitude." Billy takes an enormous drink from his coffee, then raises his eyebrows over the lip of the mug and stares out the window of the little cafe, swiping his hand over the foggy glass to clear it. He points out to where a man with an open notebook stands next to a woman setting up an elaborate tripod and camera setup across the street.
"Look at that," Billy snorts, irritability rising in his voice. "I'd heard they were planning a feature on the old cinema, and there they are taking pictures. 's ridiculous; there no proper light today for photos, even in black and white. They're doing it no justice, Cate. I could send them some of mine and they'd serve better." Billy frowns, propping his chin in his hand, then turning back to Cate and letting his frown turn back into a smile. "Sorry. I love photography. You have your drawings, I take pictures. But I apologize, I keep asking you questions and not letting you answer. Are you staying here over Christmas?"
"I'll be spending a bit of time in Italy. Visiting old haunts." Cate lets her brows quirk at this, and she laughs a moment later, Billy laughing along with her. "Actually, I like to go back when I can. It helps to keep my skills with the language sharp. And Italy's so beautiful in the winter." Leaning her chin on her hand, Cate's voice goes soft, and her gaze drifts. "It's lovely to see the landscape and the cathedrals all dusted with snow … one does not have to be a disciple of philosophy to enjoy beauty for beauty's sake. I can look at snowflakes without turning mathematical equations over in my head, I swear." Cate's eyes drop momentarily to the table, flicking back up a moment later, their corners crinkled with mirth. "I can also see that if you're not going to start in on this cake, then I'm going to have to." And she takes up a fork, in her eyes a new challenge to Billy to beat her to the first bite.
Billy's surprised by Cate's ravenous little look at the cake, and draws his fork up like a sword to match hers halfway there. The tines clang together, and Billy nearly cackles with delight before untangling his fork from Cate's and stabbing at his side of the small, dense cake. He's swallowed a mouthful before he begins to speak again.
"Oh, Christ, so good. Italy, hmm? Margaret's going there as well, though 'm sure she won't be anywhere near you, if you're looking forward to snow. She wants warmth and sunlight, so she'll be in the south. I can understand why, I guess. Grey and sleety's not for everyone." Billy smiles again, swiveling the cake plate around to catch a large crumb that's fallen and scooping it up with his fork.
"Beauty's in everything. I'm guilty of ignoring the beauty in science, yes, but not of your capacity to see it there or anywhere else. Not anymore." Billy's smile high at one corner of his lips. "I underestimated you. I tend to do that to people I don't know well, y’should forgive me that. But Italy, hmm. The museums, God, I'd love to go and see them. I'm no museum junkie, but there are some things you must see in this life, however hyped to the skies they are, and the museums of Italy rank high on that list."
Billy laughs at the newspaper photographer climbing a small ladder to shoot a close up of the cinema's elaborate moulding around its facade, and then turns back to Cate, his expression intense, but not terribly so.
"When you get back, you'll have to tell me about where you went, what you saw ... in great detail, of course. And I hope you take a camera with you. Take some black and whites and we'll get them framed, yeah?"
Cate coughs lightly but she hides it behind her napkin, dabbing at the corners of her mouth to cover it up. She sets her fork aside then, and takes another sip of her espresso, and Billy can feel her eyes on him, watching in amusement as Billy helps himself to two -no, three-more bites of cake before he releases his own fork.
The sound of thunder rumbles suddenly in the distance, and both Cate and Billy turn their heads to look outside. The weather's gotten darker and much more dreary since they entered the coffee shop only a little while ago, and Cate's not surprised when the first raindrops begin to fall, hitting the pavement outside and then the window. Across the street, the cameraman and his assistant struggle to gather up their equipment, but Cate can see the two of them are laughing as they run to the van that's parked on the curb, piling in before driving off.
"I suppose you were right," Cate smiles again as she turns back to Billy. "It wasn't a good time to take a photograph of the cinema. They should have asked you first." Cate takes up her fork again, and indulges in one more bite of the cake, making sure it's heavy with cream. She licks the tines of her fork with a laugh, about as unrepentantly greedy as Billy thinks she can appear before she finally sets it aside.
"So, I've told you all about my holiday plans, but what about you? Have a fabulous escape all planned for yourself, Bill?"
"Not a holiday, no," Billy laughs, putting his fork down and taking up his coffee instead. "But you could call it an escape, I suppose. I'll call it fabulous all the same. I'm staying in town and finishing-at least I hope I'll finish it-something I've been working on for a long time. Publish or perish and all that, right? St. Andrew's has agreed to publish this-screed of mine that's been brewing for a few years.” Cate’s eyebrows shoot up, and Billy laughs. “I'm not sure why. Maybe their quota is running low for next year."
Billy tilts his head and relaxes his shoulders, feeling very much at ease now in the warm cafe with the rain pouring down outside. "I had an offer to go away, but I think it's better that I stay here. And Baskerville's surprisingly lovely in the evenings around Christmas. Quiet. 's good for long walks and such." Billy laughs again at Cate's bemused expression. "I don’t celebrate the holidays like most people do, Cate. Don't worry; I tend to catch up over New Year's, and then I’ll be getting away. We should get together soon after term begins again," Billy says, to keep Cate from questioning his destination, his smile very broad. "And maybe if y’haven’t been not naughty I'll find time to bring you your gift before you leave."
“Don’t force me to make promises I can’t keep,” Cate says simply, her smile thin and sharp. “I’ll find time to get it from you whether I’ve been naughty or not. Where are you off to?”
“Not sure.” It’s not entirely a lie, Billy decides as he raises his coffee to his lips once more. There is no single place in Paris Billy intends to stay for more than an hour or so, other than a good bed. “But I’m going to make it worth my while. I’ll get you a souvenir, Cate.”
Cate hums, pleased with that, then sits back in her chair and stares out the window again. “I’d like to be able to just get a taxi at this point, Bill. I can see I’m going to have to fight the hordes in this rain.”
Billy takes another quick, hard drink of his coffee, holding himself back from offering Cate a ride in his car. He’s not sure he’s got the strength for that, not after all-this today, and besides, he’s not finished shopping; there are still some things he needs to pick up before the occasion of another holiday of sorts, this one more quickly approaching. He’s saved from having to say anything when Cate sighs again and leans forward a little to speak more quietly to him.
“In any case, I have things I want to clear off my plate as soon as possible before I get into proper holiday thoughts. They’ve placed me on the judiciary committee, of all things-” Billy nearly drops his coffee, his face feeling hot even as he starts to laugh, and Cate rolls her eyes. “I’m just as amused as you are, I promise you. They tell me it’s a bit of a rite of passage here, one for which I was very much not prepared.”
“I don’t think they’re prepared for you on it, either, if that’s any consolation,” Billy grins, raising his coffee cup like a tankard. “Hang them high, Cate.”
“Wouldn’t I love to.” Cate shoots Billy a mock-stern glare, then props her chin in her hand. “Judging children for their boring little university misdemeanors, I can’t think of anything I’d enjoy more. Plagiarism, petty harassments and vandalism, it goes on and on, apparently.”
“You might enjoy it.” Billy raises his eyebrows now, not backing down when Cate’s next stare is a bit more challenging than before. “There’s a certain-pleasure in sorting someone out,” he says firmly. “When they need it, of course. There’s a responsibility in it, too, though, Cate. And y’have to have earned it, and keep earning it, and prove yourself right before they’ll understand why you’re doing it.” Billy stops, then, still holding Cate’s gaze until she finally blinks, something warm and pleased and all too unnervingly familiar to Billy moving over her face.
“Well, we’ll find out, won’t we?” Cate says gently, rising from the table, leaning forward on her palms and grinning widely at Billy. “You’ll have to let me know how Margaret enjoys her gift. I have to run now. Be well, professor,” she murmurs, then, coming around the side of the table with her bags and leaning in close enough that Billy can smell her faint, soft perfume before she brushes a kiss to his cheek and then taps him lightly on the shoulder. “I’d never demand you be good.”