The Date
They'd agreed he'd pick her up at 7:30, laughing that it was twelve hours from when they'd parted. They'd walked back to Kennedy's holding hands and Timothy had held her hand a moment longer than necessary before watching her go back to her car. He went to bed as soon as he got back to his apartment, but it was another hour or so before he was able to fall asleep. Now, at 7:27, he pulled up in front of her house and got out.
For the first time in recent memory he'd wondered what to wear, but he had settled on a pair of dark-blue jeans and a tucked dark-chocolate brown button-down shirt. He wore his favorite pair of black hiking boots, reasoning that they might take another walk after dinner, as Nisha's was in a very cute part of town. He was nervous, but it was an excited nervous and it had been going on all day, so he was fairly used to it by now. Just after he'd knocked, he realized he hadn't brought anything. Was he supposed to?
She had been just as giddy and had really only managed a few hour nap at some point on her couch. She could be heard telling something "No, nooo.. come here" and then a faint grunt as she picked something up and then opened the door. In her arm on her hip was a very evil looking tabby cat that had to be 15 lbs. But he wasn't fat at all. In fact he was very slim and long. All that weight was muscle. He more or less glared at the doctor, his back paws nails digging into the hip of Arleen and his tail whipping back and forth, his pupils dilating as if on the prowl.
She smiled broadly after a heavy sigh of relief, "Thank God, I was totally worried you were going to bring... flowers or crap." she said, moving to one side to let him in. She still had to feed her cat and her shoes were untied. She had on a perfect fitting gray and blue stripped top with a few silver buttons mainly for show down the front, the sleeves 3/4 length. Her jeans were a bit low slung and also of a pretty good fit, tight enough to cling a bit but still loose enough that she wasn't being hurt by the jeans cutting into her or restricting movement or breathing or any of that.
The shirt was just small enough that if she moved in some ways or arched her back it would expose a inch or so of skin. She turned and bent, setting the cat on the ground, exposing what appeared to be the word "Helios" on the small of her back, though there was more under the word. She straightened herself and the cat continued to glare at Timothy.
Timothy smiled at Arleen's words as she opened the door, stepping inside and looking around a bit. "I didn't think to bring anything until after I'd knocked. Looks like I made the right choice." He raised a brow a bit as she put the cat down and he spotted the tattoo. He made a mental note to bring that up later, if only to possibly watch her blush again.
He nodded at the cat. "Trouble, I presume?" He liked cats, and he could recognize a battle of wills when he saw one. He just looked back at it with the calm, collected gaze he often used on troublesome patients.
Trouble gave him battle ears and whipped his tail more, lowering his head in attack form. Arleen clicked her tongue at him. "Trouble, now be nice." she said. She looked up at Timothy and frowned. "You're a lot taller when I don't have heels on." She mumbled, looking down at her all stars and considering getting her heels. She shrugged and clicked her tongue at Trouble as she headed into the kitchen. He perked up and Timothy was forgotten as he ran after her, tail erect.
He laughed as Trouble was distracted by the possibility of food. "Is that good or bad?" he called after her, taking a few steps farther into the room to look around. He liked the location; when she'd said she lived beachside, he'd had a vision of endless lines of condos blocking the view of the ocean, but her house was on its own for the most part. He wasn't in a hurry. From here, it would be a short drive to Nisha's and their reservations were for eight.
"I'll figure it out at some point tonight." She promised. The sound of a can of cat food being opened and a fork scraping said can and doing something in a bowl was audible. She returned to him shortly there after and warned, "I'm gunna lean on you to tie my shoes. You'll be in huge trouble if you sidestep and let me fall." She smirked over at him, but carefully leant her shoulder on his left side and tied her shoes.
She did a pat check, making sure she had her wallet, her keys, her phone. "I'm ready." she said, taking a zip up hoodie from Disney land, black with a skull on the front and the words "Dead men tell no tales" in red, on the back it showed the skeleton at the helm in the lightning from the ride Pirates. She put it over her arm and headed for the front door.
He stayed still obediently as she tied her shoes, enjoying the feel of her against him. He laughed when he saw the hoodie. "Been to Disneyland recently?" he asked as he led the way to his emerald-green Jaguar. He opened the door for her without really thinking about it. "My sister and I went to Disney World in Florida when I was seven and she was five. I don't remember anything except the Peter Pan ride."
"We're totally going sometime, then. It's like right there!" She gestures at the air as if it was her neighbor. She wandered outside, once he was outside too she pulled her door closed and locked it. "But yes, I try to go whenever I can. I have year long passes. I love Disneyland. And the Peter Pan ride? Yeah. Totally going. There's so many other fun rides" She smiled, excited. She flushed a bit as he opened the door of the car for her and she slid inside, settling down.
"I'd like that a lot. I've always wanted to go back, but I've never found the time." Or the company. Shutting the door behind her, he slid into the driver's seat and started the car with a purr. The CD he'd had playing started again, a sweet woman's voice singing in Gaelic. "Soraidh bhuam gu Barraidh, Eilean's maisich tha fo'n ghrein..." He smiled, listening for a moment. "I like this band. Although technically, Capercaillie is Scottish."
"You listen to this all the time, or this special because I go to the games?" She asked, squinting one eye at him and trying to read him, though she was smiling. She could deal with this. Her husband had listened to Alt Rock and.. well Alt anything. She relaxed against the seat, tipping her head back a bit and just listening and enjoying. It was calming, very calming, and she decided she should find a CD somewhere of this. God knows, she could use all the relaxation she could get.
"I listen to it a fair amount, but I did put it in because I thought you'd like it." He smiled as he turned onto the road that would take them to the small Italian neighborhood where Nisha's was. "Would you like a copy?"
She brightened a little. "Yes. I'd love a copy." She said with a smile, holding her hoodie against her stomach. He drove safer than she did, but she was far from dangerous when driving. She was feeling extremely relaxed and she didn't think it was just the music. The man sitting next to her was a very calming presence.
It wasn't a long drive and in ten minutes Timothy pulled into the tiny, six-space parking lot. The restaurant was very unobtrusive, with an Italian flag hanging out front and a small sign in the window that just said "Nisha's." "We're a little early, but if they're not ready for us we can have a glass of wine at the bar. Nisha's husband Kenneth is a sommelier." He got out and waited for her before offering his arm with a smile, carelessly waving his keys at the car to lock it. This was a very safe neighborhood and it was more of a reflex than anything else.
She took his arm, she enjoyed the contact, and she nodded to his offer of wine. She took in the place, and the area around it, with a smile. It was nice and small and a perfect place. She had a feeling that if this continued, their dates would consist of small little known places. She gave him arm a small squeeze, keeping pace with him.
She took his arm, she enjoyed the contact, and she nodded to his offer of wine. She took in the place, and the area around it, with a smile. It was nice and small and a perfect place. She had a feeling that if this continued, their dates would consist of small little known places. She gave him arm a small squeeze, keeping pace with him.
They walked in, him holding the door for her with a hand at her back. The restaurant was stereotypical family Italian, with red-checked tablecloths and even candles in Chianti bottles. Of course it was; it was run by an Italian family, for the local neighborhood. It was one of the reasons he liked it. Emilio, the server and maitre d', took them to a table immediately, tucked in the back. Timothy didn't open his menu, but looked at Arleen with a slight smile. "You said you liked Italian and seafood. Do you trust me?" he asked, tapping the closed menu to indicate what he meant.
She shivered faintly at his hand on her back, it felt new but it also felt good, right. She glanced down at his finger tapping the menu and slowly perked a brow before glancing up at him. She smiled a little. "Alright. But be careful, I really only like one type of sauce." She said, leaving her menu closed.
"Let's hope I choose right." As Emilio noted their closed menus and came back over, Timothy glanced at her again with a grin. "Cozze carbonara alla pancetta to split, and some bread to start."
Emilio smiled. "Excellent choice, Signiora Nisha has just had delivered fresh mussels. Kenneth will pick a wine for you?"
"Yes, please." As Emilio bowed and moved away with their menus, Timothy sat back. "Be warned, this will be a lot of food. Even just ordering one will probably be too much to finish, if you want to leave room for dessert. Which I recommend."
She raised her brows at him, but smiled a little. She rested her jaw in her hands, watching him for a few moments before taking in the restaurant around her and then looking back at him. "How often do you come here?" She asked, figuring it was a good amount judging by how he seemed to know half the people here.
"At least a few times a month. More if I can, even just to have a glass of wine with Kenneth. I like places like this, places that haven't really been found." His smile indicated that he knew of a few more. Their bread came out very quickly, steaming, with a small dish of herbed garlic butter and a cup of deep-red marinara. Timothy picked up a piece of bread. "If I guessed right, marinara is your second choice for a sauce, but try this. It's the best I've ever had. These tomatoes were picked this morning, from the rooftop. I guarantee it."
She perked a brow at him, utterly unsure of red sauce, but agreed. She took her time doing everything because where last night he had been a fun person to sneak away with, tonight it was some offical date.. thing. And he was watching her eat. She kept her head bowed a bit to try and hide the blush she knew was rising to her cheeks.
Kenneth chose that moment to come up and offer a bottle of Verdicchio, which he said would go very well with their mussels. Timothy asked a few questions about it, they teased each other like old friends, and Kenneth departed, leaving the bottle and two glasses. Timothy poured out a measure of the wine in each. "I never actually pick a wine myself when I come here. I just trust Kenneth, he knows the food so well." He looked around the restaurant, smiling a bit. He was very happy that she seemed to like it here.
She smiled to him. "How long have you been coming here that you let him pick your wine for you every time?" she asked, settling in a little bit more, trying to relax. She took another bite of bread. Awkward silence and she couldn't figure out for the life of her how to fill it. She pushed her hair behind her ear. Like last night it was down around her shoulders and curling. She studied him from behind a bit of her hair.
"Three years. I first found it when I was new to the area and got completely lost looking for a...bar..." He trailed off, looking over her shoulder and frowning. There was another couple at a table across the room, and the woman had suddenly put a hand to her throat, coughing and turning red. She looked as if she was having trouble breathing.
Without another word, he was out of his seat and crossing the room with long strides, taking the woman's wrist to measure her pulse. High, very high, and her wheezing indicated her windpipe was closing. "Allergic reaction. Call 911," he directed at the man with a calm, firm voice. He took the woman's hand. "Do you have an epi-pen? I need it." She waved a hand at her bag and Timothy rifled through it, pulling out the yellow tube. "911, now," he said sharply, handing over his own cell phone to the man, who hadn't moved.
She furrowed her brows when he trailed off and she looked over her shoulder to where he was headed. She unconsciously followed him. She watched the man sit there too stunned to call 911 and she grunted, pulling her Blackberry out of her pocket and dialing up 911 herself. She was smooth and already knew exactly where she was, the code needed and even told the dispatcher to tell "Charlie" that she said "Hi".
Timothy heard Arleen's calm voice on the phone behind him, but he was too focused on the woman, who was watching him with scared eyes. He took the cap off the pen and without hesitation slammed it hard into her thigh, discharging the epinephrine into her muscle tissue. His hand tightened on hers. "It will be all right. Just relax. You'll breathe more easily in just a moment." Already, her breathing had lost the wheezing tone.
He looked sharply at the man, who was just watching with a deer-in-the-headlights look. "Are you her husband?" He nodded. Timothy frowned. "You need to be ready to do this for her." "But...it's so icky," he replied, making a face. Timothy stared at him, his eyes narrowed, and spoke coldly. "You'd rather she die of anaphylactic shock than learn how to use something eight-year-olds carry?"
"Timothy, be nice." she said, setting her hand on his shoulder, though she seemed to agree, she just didn't need a fight breaking out. She then added, "I do agree, though. You need to be a man." she shot at the husband. She could hear sirens already nearing.
The woman finally took a long, deep breath. "Thank you," she whispered, clutching at his hand. He smiled. "It's all right. You'll be fine. You do need to be more careful though, if you have an allergy that serious." His gaze was steady, his voice still even, calm and firm. She nodded and Timothy looked sharply at the husband again before standing, though he didn't step away from her until the paramedics walked in.
He moved back to the table, blushing a bit as a few patrons applauded, dropped into his seat and took a long drink of wine. He shook his head. "People treat their health problems like they'll just go away if they ignore them, sometimes."
She followed after him and settled back into her place, amused by his blush. "Good head there." She said, a bit more relaxed. Speaking law speak helped her to relax. She did have to smile at his fast reaction.
"I'm a doctor. I've dealt with a lot of situations like that. Someone needs to stay calm." He shrugged a bit. "I've always been good at keeping my cool. Almost always."
"'Almost' always?" She asked, perking a brow faintly and looking honestly curious. She looked a bit more relaxed and at ease.
He hesitated, watching the paramedics hustle their patient out the door. "There are a few situations that get me...angrier than others. I moved back to Boston for a few years after...after, and worked in an inner-city hospital ER. I saw a lot of people hurting themselves, and their attitudes were so defeatist. Drug addicts who were resigned that they'd ODed and been dragged there by their friends, just waiting around through detox until they could get back onto the street. Teenage girls bleeding out after trying old-fashioned, homestyle abortions. Drinkers. Cutters." He stared at his wine. "I have trouble with people who hurt themselves and don't care." He set his glass down as their food arrived.
She nodded to herself. She supposed that it made sense. It must be hard when your job is to save people and if they don't care for life... what's the point? At least her clients wanted to get acquitted, or not have a lot of time in jail. She glanced over as the food arrived and smiled. She couldn't put her finger on why she felt so nervous. She tucked her hair behind her ear again, biting her lip. Once the server left she asked, "You excited for the games? Speaking of which, do you want to go both days or just one or the other?"
Timothy spiraled some linguini neatly on his fork. "If it's all right, I'd like to go for both. It's been years since I've gone, and I don't want to miss anything." He took a bite and closed his eyes happily. "I'll never get tired of this food, even if I eat here every week for ten years."
She nodded. "We'll have to stop by my Clan, though. I'm a lifetime member and kinda up in the ranks." She said, finally really eating. She hadn't had any food since the fish and chips and she was hungry. She gave him a nod to tell him good choice.
He brightened. "You have one? I'd love to stop by. I probably have one too, come to think of it. I should look for it." He gave her a boyish grin as she nodded. "So I did guess right. Good." He topped off their glasses and kept eating. After awhile, he set down his fork. "She always gives you so much food...did you want to order dessert?" he asked hopefully.
She nodded. "Donald. I'm sure someone there could tell you what Clan you're in. Though if you are a Campbell, well, I'll just have to stop talking to you." She said, smirking. She accepted his offer of dessert though continued to pick at her food. She could be stuffed to the point of discomfort and if one simply left food near her, she would continue to eat.
"One tiramisu, two forks, two coffees," he said to Emilio, who had appeared out of nowhere, silently.
Emilio smiled. "Of course, Doctor. And it is on the house, from Nisha and Kenneth, for assisting our customer."
Timothy blushed a bit. "That isn't necessary, Emilio, I was doing my job."
Emilio laughed. "I will explain this to Nisha, and you would prefer she come out to tell you in person?"
Timothy laughed. "All right, you win. I don't want to take her away from her cooking." He turned back to her as Emilio moved off. "I suppose I should have asked if you drink coffee before I ordered you one," he said with an apologetic smile.
She pointed to herself. "Lawyer. My blood is mainly composed of coffee." She said, smirking. "At least you have taste. My husband would be perfectly happy with a loaf of blueberry muffin mix." She sighed. He had been rather dull as far as food went and food was a passion of hers. It was wonderful to have someone as interested in food as she was.
He laughed. "Should have guessed. And blueberry muffin mix is all well and good, but I'd have to add something else to it to make it more interesting." Emilio was back with two coffees, cream and sugar, and a piece of individual tiramisu in a small souffle dish, big enough that at least three people could have shared it.
She scooped out a bit from the edge, still utterly self-conscious about the whole eating... thing. Even when he wasn't focused on her she still tried to be mindful and she was starting to get annoyed with herself. After two bites, the ends of the fork still captured between her teeth she whispered "I feel like I'm 15 and on that first date with that popular boy way outta my league." She had no idea why she said it, some weird twitch of honesty.
Timothy swallowed his piece of tiramisu hard and took a sip of coffee to cover it. "I feel like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop, to make some kind of mistake," he whispered back, leaning forward. "I'm horribly nervous. I've been nervous all night. You can't tell?"
She shook her head. "I think I've been too focused on not failing at eating." She said, smiling weakly and pushing a bit of her hair behind her ear. She didn't even bother with sugar in her coffee.
Timothy laughed, giving her a surprised look. "What do you mean? How could you fail at eating?" He looked at her nearly-empty plate. "You look like you're doing fairly well." He took another bite of dessert, watching her with sparkling eyes.
"It's stupidly easy to fail at eating. At least for me." She said, taking another bite of their dessert as well, chewing on the fork. "Y'know, get stuff all over your face or drop noodles in your lap. Stuff like that. I'm a wiz at doing that when I am trying to act cool."
He tilted his head to one side, taking a sip of coffee. "Are you trying to act cool?" he teased her gently before nodding. "I do understand what you mean. I never thought of it in quite those words before." He finished his half of dessert and sat back, closing his eyes momentarily. "I'd love a walk after this, if you'd like. I'll need a minute first, though. I'm stuffed."
"Maybe a little" She said, blushing a bit, sticking her tongue out at him before taking her final bite and settling back, leaving the fork in her mouth. She smiled to his offer. "Yes, a walk would be 'awsome-possum'" She said, poking fun at herself for last night, it was obvious by her tone. "If it's anything like our walk last night I doubt I'll mind. But I should probably finish this coffee just in case. I was kinda excited about tonight and barely managed to sleep today." She said, flushing again at the admission.
He laughed at her phrase and smiled at her blush, his heart jumping a bit as she admitted she'd been just as excited as he'd been all day. "This is a nice area. I'm sure we can find somewhere to sit." Emilio, with perfect timing, presented the bill. Timothy signed it without even checking, handing it back to him and sitting back to finish his own coffee.
She repressed a glare, though her eyes did narrow. "You totally gotta stop trying to buy me food. Since this is your place, though, I'll allow it." She said, finally setting the fork down and focusing on her coffee as well.
"Trying, hell. You bought me dinner last night, I'm buying tonight. That's perfectly fair." He was using a lighter version of his no-nonsense tone he'd used earlier on Mr. Allergy Attack. Then he smiled. "Thank you for dinner, by the way."
She pouted a bit at him. "Fine. But we're switching off like that." She pointed her index finger at him as if to show she meant business. She waved off his thanks faintly. "No issue. Though I will have to say 'Ditto' to you." She said, smiling at him.
"I'll agree to that. You can buy me a sausage roll tomorrow at the Games. Then I'll buy you dinner tomorrow night." He was smiling cheekily at her. "And you're welcome. I'm happy you liked it." He gestured at the door. "Are you ready?"
"Pfft, you won't eat haggis?" She asked, smirking at him, but nodded and plucked her hoodie off the booth neck to her and slid out, putting it on already. If it was anything like last night, she'd probably need it by now. It was a little big for her and just made her look thinner. She zipped it up, pushing the hood down which had gone over her head with the way she had pulled it on. She kept stride with him once they were moving, and if he offered her his arm, she happily took it.
"Haggis cooked in a tent at a temporary festival, then kept in the sun all day? Tempting." He did offer his arm, in a gesture that now seemed perfectly natural, pressing her hand lightly against his side as he nodded to Kenneth on the way out. "Would you like to pick a direction tonight?" he asked, grinning down at her. Her heels had added a few inches to her height last night and he was amused at how much shorter she was, now that she was wearing practical shoes.
"Shush" She said in a rather regal voice, tilting her head up to view him. She seemed to know exactly what he was thinking cause she gave him a look. "Not a word about how short I am." She said, poking him near his hip in his side. She squinted one eye at him and said, "Uh... left?" She made a weak gesture to the left. She was trying to think up a topic and failing miserably. She made a noise a few times, like she was about to pick a topic, but couldn't think of a single thing. She was mentally face-palming.
"Yes, ma'am," he said, jumping a bit as she poked him. He started walking left, passing the front window of Nisha's, walking up the tree-lined street. "If I could, I'd mention how I like how short you are, because Cynthia is a model and always wears the highest heels she can manage not to fall off of, and that it's refreshing to walk beside someone I don't have to look up at when I'm in public." He shrugged. "But you'd rather I not mention the height thing, so I won't say any of that."
She blushed a little bit and tucked her head against his arm a bit. She felt self-conscious again. He was married to a model? She didn't have much of a chance, she reasoned. "How did you and her meet?" she asked.
"She fell on the runway and twisted her knee. Came in for a consult." He laughed. "I have this mindset when I'm treating patients, I don't notice anything but the injury. I've had people tell me before that it can be off-putting. Anyway, I never really noticed her, whether or not she was attractive, didn't ask if she was available for dinner, or a drink, nothing. She told me later that it was a different experience, playing second fiddle to her knee." They turned the corner onto a larger, busier street. "When she came in for her final visit, I told her she could go back to work and smiled. She said it was the smile that made her ask me out."
"Your smile is dashing." she said, smirking a bit, though she got the feeling that this woman was very used to things being her way. She noticed she had her head on his arm still and she raised herself so she was standing straight once more.
"If we decide to stay up and watch the sun rise again for whatever reason, may I suggest going back to my house at some point? The view from there is a lot better than trying to see it through the buildings." She offered. It was a totally innocent offer and she made sure it sounded like that. She didn't want him to think her easy. She was anything but easy.
He blushed again at that, looking down shyly, though his lips did quirk into a quiet smile. He'd never heard his smile described as 'dashing' before, and although she'd been smirking when she said it, that made it no less a compliment. The quiet smile grew as he heard her offer. "I'd like that. I don't have a view of it from my apartment, and you're right. We'd never get a good look at it from this neighborhood." He took her offer as innocently as it had been intended. He did not intend to ruin this by moving too fast.
"Oh, also, if two large, burly men run up and sling me over one shoulder at the games and run away with me... Don't attack. Just run after and bid." she said, smiling faintly.
He looked startled. "Is...that likely to happen?"
"Yes. Jeff and Mike love picking me up and selling me off. Damned Campbells. Thankfully at least someone from Gregor or Donald see what they are doing and race after and capture me back. And then seek revenge. Though they don't have any young women in their clan." She said, smiling up at his surprised look.
"I see." He was trying to remain straightfaced, treating this as a very serious matter. "Who do you generally get sold to? Back to your clan? And how does the revenge part work?"
"Generally the King and Queen take interest in me and, after checking my teeth and my hands, decide I am good enough for their palace and I sit around there for a bit and chatter with the Queen about odds and ends until the leader of Donald comes and begs for the "young, fair madien" and the King and Queen often submit me at that point. And the revenge is always different. Though Campbell has started getting us back. Last year they gave us a case of "Campbell's Cream of Donald" soup. And our most recent revenge was to get a bunch of condoms, unroll them and squirt lotion into them and just litter their camping area. Or we go in and just take over their tent and change all the signs from Campbell to Donald. Though that usually involves them coming to our tent and begging for shelter from the terrible blizzard." She laughs, but then is unsure if he knows the story on Glencoe. She glances at him to see if he does indeed or if he'll be lost.
He was laughing by the time she mentioned the Cream of Donald soup. "I hope the nighttime massacre is at least a bit neater than the original, otherwise I'm sure the campsite owners might want a few words with you."
"Oh, you know Glencoe!" She says it like it's some secret and he just happens to be in on it, though it does earn his arm a two armed hug. "No one ever knows what the hell I am talking about and I always end up having to explain everything and feeling stupid." She said, not letting go of his arm just yet.
"Of course. It was pretty important at the time. I've always been interested in historical events like that." Still laughing, he hugged her back, resting his chin atop her head. It seemed natural to do so and he closed his eyes a moment, savoring the way she fit perfectly into his arms. Several cars passed without him noticing.
She isn't expecting the hug in return but she automatically relaxes into it. Her temple is resting right on the dip of his collarbone, her cheek and jaw on his sternum. Her shoulders are a little too slender to cover his chest, but they begin right at the beginning of his underarms. Her arms encircle his waist, her hands catching the fabric of his shirt right below his shoulder blades. Her hips meet his perfectly, slightly tilted to the right.
He breathed in slowly. She smelled like the restaurant, mussels and wine, but he could still smell that spring rain. "This is nice," he murmured, not even realizing he'd said it aloud.
"I concur wholeheartedly" She whispered in return, not moving at all besides her breathing. She closes her eyes for the most part, licking her lips unconsciously. This was nice and she could relax like this for a while. A long while. She took in a bit of a deeper breath, taking him in. She couldn't identify the various scents, though he also smelt like the restaurant. But he also smelled good, like man, like him. She closed her eyes all the way to better enjoy it.
He wasn't entirely sure how long he stood there, but a sharp wind blew down the street and made him shiver as it slid beneath the collar of his shirt. He pulled back a bit, looking down at her, and brought up a hand to brush her hair back again. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so comfortable with someone, and he'd met her so recently. The small idea he'd had last night spoke up again, louder, but he ignored it, promising to think about it later.
She held onto him a bit closer as he shivered at the wind, and she pulled back as he did. She looked up at him, studying his face though she already knew every line. She closed her eyes as his hand ran through her hair, leaning her head into his touch a bit. She had never felt so comfortable with anyone. Not even her husband. She really, really did not want this to be rushed or ruined.
"Part of me wants to stay like this all night," he whispered, then smiled a bit. "Another part wants to drop you off and go home to bed, so it will be tomorrow and I'll be able to see you again."
She laughed. Her laugh was always light and airy and full of the happiness and mirth that most people at her age had managed to forget. "Well, weigh the pros and cons and get back to me on your final decision, Timothy." She had decided at some point during her day of thinking about all that had happened the night before that she would continue to call him Timothy just because it often prompted him to call her Arleen and, well, she frankly loved him saying it.
He decided that despite his previous interest in going back to Patrick with her, he liked the way his name sounded when she said it. He liked it a lot. "I will, Arleen," he replied, smiling down at her before slipping an arm around her waist and starting to walk again, slowly, looking at the closed stores but thinking about tomorrow.
She flushed and shivered a bit at the use of her name and settled against his side as they walked. "Top 5 favorite movies." She doesn't really ask it, she's waiting for him to give her a list, but it's just not in question form.
"Ooh." He pursed his lips in thought. "Not in order: Empire Strikes Back, Vertigo, Dr. Strangelove, Seventh Seal, and..." He paused, trying to come up with a fifth. "...Battle Royale." He flushed a bit at the last. The movie was incredibly violent, not even sold in this country, but he enjoyed the psychological battles in it. He had the book as well. "Yours," he countered, also not asking a question.
"Pfft, Empire? It's ALL about Return." she countered. "And the Ingmar Bergman movie? And do you mean the Battle Royale from Japan? I don't think the new Bond movie is out yet.." She looks nervous at the thought of missing it. "Vertigo is the best Hitchcock movie out there, and Dr. Strangelove is amazing. For me... Hmm... Pulp Fiction, Silence of the Lambs, The Rainmaker, Forrest Gump and uh... The Big Lebowski. Not a word about any of those, by the way. But I also love the Lord of the Rings series and of course the Star Wars, even though the three new ones are totally crap." She sighed. "Really, midichlorians? Why couldn't the force remain magical?"
He stopped walking and turned to her, pointing a finger as if to lecture her. "First of all," he said in a mock-stern voice, "Empire is superior if only because of the lack of muppets. But in addition, it's the darkest of the three, and I agree about the prequels, they were awful, don't get me started on them, I beg of you. But Empire ends on such a dark note, and it's very psychological. Return was mainly trees and muppets. Although I will give you the final battle between Luke and Vader." He started walking again. "And yes, that is the Japanese movie. I'm surprised you've heard of it."
She stuck her tongue out at him. "Hey, don't knock the Muppets! And I mean.. yes, Empire was great but it is all about the scene with Luke and Vader. That makes the whole series. Maybe I have to rewatch the series." She considers this. She smiles broadly at his final words, catching up with him. "9th graders beating the snot and killing other 9th graders? I'll watch that. I love gore in movies. I love twisted mental struggles. If it's done well, anyway. Otherwise it's pretty crap. Oh, and City of Lost Children. How did I forget that?" She frowns at herself. She catches his hand without really noticing it.
He'd been content before. Now he felt ecstatic. "Have you seen the sequel?" he asked, his happiness evident in his voice. "Shuya is holed-up on an island and the BR class has to go on a mission to bring him down instead of just killing each other. It's not as good in terms of psychological struggles, but it does develop the character of Shuya." He slipped his fingers between hers absently. "I haven't seen the original trilogy in years. I'd love to watch it again."
"I didn't like the second one much. I fell asleep in the middle of it. Though, that could just be because I had been up for like 4 days or something stupid working on a case and I mainly had it on for background noise. What I did see was rather... weird. They tried too many deep scenes with the characters. And the plot was just.. It didn't make sense. But maybe I just need to see it again." She said. While she hadn't noticed her hand catching his, she sure noticed his fingers lacing with hers and her chest fluttered a bit and she bit her lip, smiling faintly over to him. She nodded. "I just got them on DVD, though I still have my original VHS. But I haven't even opened them yet."
He glanced down at her, a brow raised. "Really?" he said hopefully. He looked at his watch. It was just past 11. "Well..." He grinned widely. "I'm not tired."
"Oh, you are so on." She said, stopping instantly and turning back for the car, giddy. "I have popcorn already and if Trouble bugs us I'll lock him in my room." She promised, pulling him along by their laced fingers.
He followed, laughing, unlocking the car and opening the door for her again before getting in himself. He was just as excited now as he'd been when getting ready for their dinner, but without the nervousness to get in the way. "My apartment is just a few blocks out of the way and I have a bottle of wine I haven't opened yet. Or if you'd rather, a six-pack of a Wisconsin microbrew. What do you say?" He started in that direction.
"I'll stick with coke, but you snag whatever you want to drink." She said, more excited than she could remember, her hands on her knees, smiling to him. "And all together it's just over 6 hours so once the movies are over we can watch the sun come up again from my totally better vantage point." She suggested.
"Sounds ideal. And I'll stick with coke too, then. We'll save the wine for BR II. We can watch it at my place." He spared her a glance with that boyish grin before he concentrated on driving, getting them through the late-night bar traffic easily. Before long, they drew up in front of her house again.
The thought of spending more time with him, though she knew already that they were going to the games together the next two days, thrilled her. Once his car was in park she got out, removing her keys from her pocket. Trouble greeted her at the door and she scooped up the cat and put him over her shoulder. The cat, again, glared death at Timothy. It instantly put up battle ears and it's pupils dilated once more.
She one handedly threw popcorn in the microwave and went over to her tv. It was a nice, large, HD plasma. She opened up one side of the entertainment center and looked through the vast amount of movies there. The also had several DVD holders in the area. She loved movies and it was rather obvious. She found them and pulled them out, setting the cat down and automatically headed into the kitchen as the microwave beeped at her, struggling through the plastic wrap over A New Hope.
She got the popcorn into a bowl, snagged two cokes and wandered back out to her comfy and obviously slept on black leather couch and set down everything before popping the movie into the DVD player. She had speakers in the walls and the ceiling, surround sound, complete with subwoofer. She settled down next to him once it was going and Trouble jumped into her lap, his tail whipping in Timothys direction still, settling on her as if to say "Mine, go find your own!"
Taking off his boots, he put them neatly next to the door, going to ask her if she needed help, but she was moving quickly and efficiently, setting everything up, and he found himself just watching her move instead. Shaking himself out of it, he went to the couch and sat down, groaning a bit at how comfortable it was. He looked around at the DVD collection, the speaker equipment, the huge TV, and he smiled, leaning back and relaxing. He was already looking forward to more evenings spent in and found himself wondering what kind of takeout she liked. As she delivered the popcorn and cokes and sat beside him, he laughed at Trouble and put an arm around her shoulders to spite him. "You'll have to share," he said sternly to the disapproving cat.
The cats ears folded more, and at her not pushing the strange man away, he looked completely affronted. He jumped off her, his tail again erect as if to tell her she was a naughty human and he would deal with her later, and he went off. She smirked in his direction. "He'll get over it." She whispered, finding herself lightheaded at his arm around her shoulders. She settled against him, reacting to the movie as if it was her first time seeing it. Just like when he told his stories to her, she gasped, laughed, and looked serious at all the correct moments. In tense situations she would tense up.
She could feel herself getting tired and she tried to keep her mind active and busy, tried to drink her coke quickly, she ate the popcorn to keep her jaw working. It worked well enough for the moment. A New Hope ended and she cursed at herself for not stripping the second movie of it's protective wrap and annoying stickers. She got it out finally and popped it in and replaced the first one back in it's case and in it's correct place on the shelf.
She sat down and instantly went to work on the third one to free it as well. She settled against him for just a moment, she told herself it would just be a moment. But that was the last thing she could remember. She was out cold, settled against him and sleeping peacefully.
Timothy laughed with her, did his celebrated-in-college Sir Alec Guinness impression, and noticed every time their hands brushed in the popcorn bowl. As Empire started, he laughed at a few parts but he was alone in his comments and he glanced down. His heart seemed to melt in his chest as he realized she was asleep. Pressed against his shoulder, her hand resting lightly on his chest, fast asleep, breathing deeply. He brushed the hair out of her face with his other hand and hesitantly pressed a kiss to the top of her head, then rested his cheek against it and kept watching. He could feel himself drifting off and let it happen, contented.
For the first time in recent memory he'd wondered what to wear, but he had settled on a pair of dark-blue jeans and a tucked dark-chocolate brown button-down shirt. He wore his favorite pair of black hiking boots, reasoning that they might take another walk after dinner, as Nisha's was in a very cute part of town. He was nervous, but it was an excited nervous and it had been going on all day, so he was fairly used to it by now. Just after he'd knocked, he realized he hadn't brought anything. Was he supposed to?
She had been just as giddy and had really only managed a few hour nap at some point on her couch. She could be heard telling something "No, nooo.. come here" and then a faint grunt as she picked something up and then opened the door. In her arm on her hip was a very evil looking tabby cat that had to be 15 lbs. But he wasn't fat at all. In fact he was very slim and long. All that weight was muscle. He more or less glared at the doctor, his back paws nails digging into the hip of Arleen and his tail whipping back and forth, his pupils dilating as if on the prowl.
She smiled broadly after a heavy sigh of relief, "Thank God, I was totally worried you were going to bring... flowers or crap." she said, moving to one side to let him in. She still had to feed her cat and her shoes were untied. She had on a perfect fitting gray and blue stripped top with a few silver buttons mainly for show down the front, the sleeves 3/4 length. Her jeans were a bit low slung and also of a pretty good fit, tight enough to cling a bit but still loose enough that she wasn't being hurt by the jeans cutting into her or restricting movement or breathing or any of that.
The shirt was just small enough that if she moved in some ways or arched her back it would expose a inch or so of skin. She turned and bent, setting the cat on the ground, exposing what appeared to be the word "Helios" on the small of her back, though there was more under the word. She straightened herself and the cat continued to glare at Timothy.
Timothy smiled at Arleen's words as she opened the door, stepping inside and looking around a bit. "I didn't think to bring anything until after I'd knocked. Looks like I made the right choice." He raised a brow a bit as she put the cat down and he spotted the tattoo. He made a mental note to bring that up later, if only to possibly watch her blush again.
He nodded at the cat. "Trouble, I presume?" He liked cats, and he could recognize a battle of wills when he saw one. He just looked back at it with the calm, collected gaze he often used on troublesome patients.
Trouble gave him battle ears and whipped his tail more, lowering his head in attack form. Arleen clicked her tongue at him. "Trouble, now be nice." she said. She looked up at Timothy and frowned. "You're a lot taller when I don't have heels on." She mumbled, looking down at her all stars and considering getting her heels. She shrugged and clicked her tongue at Trouble as she headed into the kitchen. He perked up and Timothy was forgotten as he ran after her, tail erect.
He laughed as Trouble was distracted by the possibility of food. "Is that good or bad?" he called after her, taking a few steps farther into the room to look around. He liked the location; when she'd said she lived beachside, he'd had a vision of endless lines of condos blocking the view of the ocean, but her house was on its own for the most part. He wasn't in a hurry. From here, it would be a short drive to Nisha's and their reservations were for eight.
"I'll figure it out at some point tonight." She promised. The sound of a can of cat food being opened and a fork scraping said can and doing something in a bowl was audible. She returned to him shortly there after and warned, "I'm gunna lean on you to tie my shoes. You'll be in huge trouble if you sidestep and let me fall." She smirked over at him, but carefully leant her shoulder on his left side and tied her shoes.
She did a pat check, making sure she had her wallet, her keys, her phone. "I'm ready." she said, taking a zip up hoodie from Disney land, black with a skull on the front and the words "Dead men tell no tales" in red, on the back it showed the skeleton at the helm in the lightning from the ride Pirates. She put it over her arm and headed for the front door.
He stayed still obediently as she tied her shoes, enjoying the feel of her against him. He laughed when he saw the hoodie. "Been to Disneyland recently?" he asked as he led the way to his emerald-green Jaguar. He opened the door for her without really thinking about it. "My sister and I went to Disney World in Florida when I was seven and she was five. I don't remember anything except the Peter Pan ride."
"We're totally going sometime, then. It's like right there!" She gestures at the air as if it was her neighbor. She wandered outside, once he was outside too she pulled her door closed and locked it. "But yes, I try to go whenever I can. I have year long passes. I love Disneyland. And the Peter Pan ride? Yeah. Totally going. There's so many other fun rides" She smiled, excited. She flushed a bit as he opened the door of the car for her and she slid inside, settling down.
"I'd like that a lot. I've always wanted to go back, but I've never found the time." Or the company. Shutting the door behind her, he slid into the driver's seat and started the car with a purr. The CD he'd had playing started again, a sweet woman's voice singing in Gaelic. "Soraidh bhuam gu Barraidh, Eilean's maisich tha fo'n ghrein..." He smiled, listening for a moment. "I like this band. Although technically, Capercaillie is Scottish."
"You listen to this all the time, or this special because I go to the games?" She asked, squinting one eye at him and trying to read him, though she was smiling. She could deal with this. Her husband had listened to Alt Rock and.. well Alt anything. She relaxed against the seat, tipping her head back a bit and just listening and enjoying. It was calming, very calming, and she decided she should find a CD somewhere of this. God knows, she could use all the relaxation she could get.
"I listen to it a fair amount, but I did put it in because I thought you'd like it." He smiled as he turned onto the road that would take them to the small Italian neighborhood where Nisha's was. "Would you like a copy?"
She brightened a little. "Yes. I'd love a copy." She said with a smile, holding her hoodie against her stomach. He drove safer than she did, but she was far from dangerous when driving. She was feeling extremely relaxed and she didn't think it was just the music. The man sitting next to her was a very calming presence.
It wasn't a long drive and in ten minutes Timothy pulled into the tiny, six-space parking lot. The restaurant was very unobtrusive, with an Italian flag hanging out front and a small sign in the window that just said "Nisha's." "We're a little early, but if they're not ready for us we can have a glass of wine at the bar. Nisha's husband Kenneth is a sommelier." He got out and waited for her before offering his arm with a smile, carelessly waving his keys at the car to lock it. This was a very safe neighborhood and it was more of a reflex than anything else.
She took his arm, she enjoyed the contact, and she nodded to his offer of wine. She took in the place, and the area around it, with a smile. It was nice and small and a perfect place. She had a feeling that if this continued, their dates would consist of small little known places. She gave him arm a small squeeze, keeping pace with him.
She took his arm, she enjoyed the contact, and she nodded to his offer of wine. She took in the place, and the area around it, with a smile. It was nice and small and a perfect place. She had a feeling that if this continued, their dates would consist of small little known places. She gave him arm a small squeeze, keeping pace with him.
They walked in, him holding the door for her with a hand at her back. The restaurant was stereotypical family Italian, with red-checked tablecloths and even candles in Chianti bottles. Of course it was; it was run by an Italian family, for the local neighborhood. It was one of the reasons he liked it. Emilio, the server and maitre d', took them to a table immediately, tucked in the back. Timothy didn't open his menu, but looked at Arleen with a slight smile. "You said you liked Italian and seafood. Do you trust me?" he asked, tapping the closed menu to indicate what he meant.
She shivered faintly at his hand on her back, it felt new but it also felt good, right. She glanced down at his finger tapping the menu and slowly perked a brow before glancing up at him. She smiled a little. "Alright. But be careful, I really only like one type of sauce." She said, leaving her menu closed.
"Let's hope I choose right." As Emilio noted their closed menus and came back over, Timothy glanced at her again with a grin. "Cozze carbonara alla pancetta to split, and some bread to start."
Emilio smiled. "Excellent choice, Signiora Nisha has just had delivered fresh mussels. Kenneth will pick a wine for you?"
"Yes, please." As Emilio bowed and moved away with their menus, Timothy sat back. "Be warned, this will be a lot of food. Even just ordering one will probably be too much to finish, if you want to leave room for dessert. Which I recommend."
She raised her brows at him, but smiled a little. She rested her jaw in her hands, watching him for a few moments before taking in the restaurant around her and then looking back at him. "How often do you come here?" She asked, figuring it was a good amount judging by how he seemed to know half the people here.
"At least a few times a month. More if I can, even just to have a glass of wine with Kenneth. I like places like this, places that haven't really been found." His smile indicated that he knew of a few more. Their bread came out very quickly, steaming, with a small dish of herbed garlic butter and a cup of deep-red marinara. Timothy picked up a piece of bread. "If I guessed right, marinara is your second choice for a sauce, but try this. It's the best I've ever had. These tomatoes were picked this morning, from the rooftop. I guarantee it."
She perked a brow at him, utterly unsure of red sauce, but agreed. She took her time doing everything because where last night he had been a fun person to sneak away with, tonight it was some offical date.. thing. And he was watching her eat. She kept her head bowed a bit to try and hide the blush she knew was rising to her cheeks.
Kenneth chose that moment to come up and offer a bottle of Verdicchio, which he said would go very well with their mussels. Timothy asked a few questions about it, they teased each other like old friends, and Kenneth departed, leaving the bottle and two glasses. Timothy poured out a measure of the wine in each. "I never actually pick a wine myself when I come here. I just trust Kenneth, he knows the food so well." He looked around the restaurant, smiling a bit. He was very happy that she seemed to like it here.
She smiled to him. "How long have you been coming here that you let him pick your wine for you every time?" she asked, settling in a little bit more, trying to relax. She took another bite of bread. Awkward silence and she couldn't figure out for the life of her how to fill it. She pushed her hair behind her ear. Like last night it was down around her shoulders and curling. She studied him from behind a bit of her hair.
"Three years. I first found it when I was new to the area and got completely lost looking for a...bar..." He trailed off, looking over her shoulder and frowning. There was another couple at a table across the room, and the woman had suddenly put a hand to her throat, coughing and turning red. She looked as if she was having trouble breathing.
Without another word, he was out of his seat and crossing the room with long strides, taking the woman's wrist to measure her pulse. High, very high, and her wheezing indicated her windpipe was closing. "Allergic reaction. Call 911," he directed at the man with a calm, firm voice. He took the woman's hand. "Do you have an epi-pen? I need it." She waved a hand at her bag and Timothy rifled through it, pulling out the yellow tube. "911, now," he said sharply, handing over his own cell phone to the man, who hadn't moved.
She furrowed her brows when he trailed off and she looked over her shoulder to where he was headed. She unconsciously followed him. She watched the man sit there too stunned to call 911 and she grunted, pulling her Blackberry out of her pocket and dialing up 911 herself. She was smooth and already knew exactly where she was, the code needed and even told the dispatcher to tell "Charlie" that she said "Hi".
Timothy heard Arleen's calm voice on the phone behind him, but he was too focused on the woman, who was watching him with scared eyes. He took the cap off the pen and without hesitation slammed it hard into her thigh, discharging the epinephrine into her muscle tissue. His hand tightened on hers. "It will be all right. Just relax. You'll breathe more easily in just a moment." Already, her breathing had lost the wheezing tone.
He looked sharply at the man, who was just watching with a deer-in-the-headlights look. "Are you her husband?" He nodded. Timothy frowned. "You need to be ready to do this for her." "But...it's so icky," he replied, making a face. Timothy stared at him, his eyes narrowed, and spoke coldly. "You'd rather she die of anaphylactic shock than learn how to use something eight-year-olds carry?"
"Timothy, be nice." she said, setting her hand on his shoulder, though she seemed to agree, she just didn't need a fight breaking out. She then added, "I do agree, though. You need to be a man." she shot at the husband. She could hear sirens already nearing.
The woman finally took a long, deep breath. "Thank you," she whispered, clutching at his hand. He smiled. "It's all right. You'll be fine. You do need to be more careful though, if you have an allergy that serious." His gaze was steady, his voice still even, calm and firm. She nodded and Timothy looked sharply at the husband again before standing, though he didn't step away from her until the paramedics walked in.
He moved back to the table, blushing a bit as a few patrons applauded, dropped into his seat and took a long drink of wine. He shook his head. "People treat their health problems like they'll just go away if they ignore them, sometimes."
She followed after him and settled back into her place, amused by his blush. "Good head there." She said, a bit more relaxed. Speaking law speak helped her to relax. She did have to smile at his fast reaction.
"I'm a doctor. I've dealt with a lot of situations like that. Someone needs to stay calm." He shrugged a bit. "I've always been good at keeping my cool. Almost always."
"'Almost' always?" She asked, perking a brow faintly and looking honestly curious. She looked a bit more relaxed and at ease.
He hesitated, watching the paramedics hustle their patient out the door. "There are a few situations that get me...angrier than others. I moved back to Boston for a few years after...after, and worked in an inner-city hospital ER. I saw a lot of people hurting themselves, and their attitudes were so defeatist. Drug addicts who were resigned that they'd ODed and been dragged there by their friends, just waiting around through detox until they could get back onto the street. Teenage girls bleeding out after trying old-fashioned, homestyle abortions. Drinkers. Cutters." He stared at his wine. "I have trouble with people who hurt themselves and don't care." He set his glass down as their food arrived.
She nodded to herself. She supposed that it made sense. It must be hard when your job is to save people and if they don't care for life... what's the point? At least her clients wanted to get acquitted, or not have a lot of time in jail. She glanced over as the food arrived and smiled. She couldn't put her finger on why she felt so nervous. She tucked her hair behind her ear again, biting her lip. Once the server left she asked, "You excited for the games? Speaking of which, do you want to go both days or just one or the other?"
Timothy spiraled some linguini neatly on his fork. "If it's all right, I'd like to go for both. It's been years since I've gone, and I don't want to miss anything." He took a bite and closed his eyes happily. "I'll never get tired of this food, even if I eat here every week for ten years."
She nodded. "We'll have to stop by my Clan, though. I'm a lifetime member and kinda up in the ranks." She said, finally really eating. She hadn't had any food since the fish and chips and she was hungry. She gave him a nod to tell him good choice.
He brightened. "You have one? I'd love to stop by. I probably have one too, come to think of it. I should look for it." He gave her a boyish grin as she nodded. "So I did guess right. Good." He topped off their glasses and kept eating. After awhile, he set down his fork. "She always gives you so much food...did you want to order dessert?" he asked hopefully.
She nodded. "Donald. I'm sure someone there could tell you what Clan you're in. Though if you are a Campbell, well, I'll just have to stop talking to you." She said, smirking. She accepted his offer of dessert though continued to pick at her food. She could be stuffed to the point of discomfort and if one simply left food near her, she would continue to eat.
"One tiramisu, two forks, two coffees," he said to Emilio, who had appeared out of nowhere, silently.
Emilio smiled. "Of course, Doctor. And it is on the house, from Nisha and Kenneth, for assisting our customer."
Timothy blushed a bit. "That isn't necessary, Emilio, I was doing my job."
Emilio laughed. "I will explain this to Nisha, and you would prefer she come out to tell you in person?"
Timothy laughed. "All right, you win. I don't want to take her away from her cooking." He turned back to her as Emilio moved off. "I suppose I should have asked if you drink coffee before I ordered you one," he said with an apologetic smile.
She pointed to herself. "Lawyer. My blood is mainly composed of coffee." She said, smirking. "At least you have taste. My husband would be perfectly happy with a loaf of blueberry muffin mix." She sighed. He had been rather dull as far as food went and food was a passion of hers. It was wonderful to have someone as interested in food as she was.
He laughed. "Should have guessed. And blueberry muffin mix is all well and good, but I'd have to add something else to it to make it more interesting." Emilio was back with two coffees, cream and sugar, and a piece of individual tiramisu in a small souffle dish, big enough that at least three people could have shared it.
She scooped out a bit from the edge, still utterly self-conscious about the whole eating... thing. Even when he wasn't focused on her she still tried to be mindful and she was starting to get annoyed with herself. After two bites, the ends of the fork still captured between her teeth she whispered "I feel like I'm 15 and on that first date with that popular boy way outta my league." She had no idea why she said it, some weird twitch of honesty.
Timothy swallowed his piece of tiramisu hard and took a sip of coffee to cover it. "I feel like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop, to make some kind of mistake," he whispered back, leaning forward. "I'm horribly nervous. I've been nervous all night. You can't tell?"
She shook her head. "I think I've been too focused on not failing at eating." She said, smiling weakly and pushing a bit of her hair behind her ear. She didn't even bother with sugar in her coffee.
Timothy laughed, giving her a surprised look. "What do you mean? How could you fail at eating?" He looked at her nearly-empty plate. "You look like you're doing fairly well." He took another bite of dessert, watching her with sparkling eyes.
"It's stupidly easy to fail at eating. At least for me." She said, taking another bite of their dessert as well, chewing on the fork. "Y'know, get stuff all over your face or drop noodles in your lap. Stuff like that. I'm a wiz at doing that when I am trying to act cool."
He tilted his head to one side, taking a sip of coffee. "Are you trying to act cool?" he teased her gently before nodding. "I do understand what you mean. I never thought of it in quite those words before." He finished his half of dessert and sat back, closing his eyes momentarily. "I'd love a walk after this, if you'd like. I'll need a minute first, though. I'm stuffed."
"Maybe a little" She said, blushing a bit, sticking her tongue out at him before taking her final bite and settling back, leaving the fork in her mouth. She smiled to his offer. "Yes, a walk would be 'awsome-possum'" She said, poking fun at herself for last night, it was obvious by her tone. "If it's anything like our walk last night I doubt I'll mind. But I should probably finish this coffee just in case. I was kinda excited about tonight and barely managed to sleep today." She said, flushing again at the admission.
He laughed at her phrase and smiled at her blush, his heart jumping a bit as she admitted she'd been just as excited as he'd been all day. "This is a nice area. I'm sure we can find somewhere to sit." Emilio, with perfect timing, presented the bill. Timothy signed it without even checking, handing it back to him and sitting back to finish his own coffee.
She repressed a glare, though her eyes did narrow. "You totally gotta stop trying to buy me food. Since this is your place, though, I'll allow it." She said, finally setting the fork down and focusing on her coffee as well.
"Trying, hell. You bought me dinner last night, I'm buying tonight. That's perfectly fair." He was using a lighter version of his no-nonsense tone he'd used earlier on Mr. Allergy Attack. Then he smiled. "Thank you for dinner, by the way."
She pouted a bit at him. "Fine. But we're switching off like that." She pointed her index finger at him as if to show she meant business. She waved off his thanks faintly. "No issue. Though I will have to say 'Ditto' to you." She said, smiling at him.
"I'll agree to that. You can buy me a sausage roll tomorrow at the Games. Then I'll buy you dinner tomorrow night." He was smiling cheekily at her. "And you're welcome. I'm happy you liked it." He gestured at the door. "Are you ready?"
"Pfft, you won't eat haggis?" She asked, smirking at him, but nodded and plucked her hoodie off the booth neck to her and slid out, putting it on already. If it was anything like last night, she'd probably need it by now. It was a little big for her and just made her look thinner. She zipped it up, pushing the hood down which had gone over her head with the way she had pulled it on. She kept stride with him once they were moving, and if he offered her his arm, she happily took it.
"Haggis cooked in a tent at a temporary festival, then kept in the sun all day? Tempting." He did offer his arm, in a gesture that now seemed perfectly natural, pressing her hand lightly against his side as he nodded to Kenneth on the way out. "Would you like to pick a direction tonight?" he asked, grinning down at her. Her heels had added a few inches to her height last night and he was amused at how much shorter she was, now that she was wearing practical shoes.
"Shush" She said in a rather regal voice, tilting her head up to view him. She seemed to know exactly what he was thinking cause she gave him a look. "Not a word about how short I am." She said, poking him near his hip in his side. She squinted one eye at him and said, "Uh... left?" She made a weak gesture to the left. She was trying to think up a topic and failing miserably. She made a noise a few times, like she was about to pick a topic, but couldn't think of a single thing. She was mentally face-palming.
"Yes, ma'am," he said, jumping a bit as she poked him. He started walking left, passing the front window of Nisha's, walking up the tree-lined street. "If I could, I'd mention how I like how short you are, because Cynthia is a model and always wears the highest heels she can manage not to fall off of, and that it's refreshing to walk beside someone I don't have to look up at when I'm in public." He shrugged. "But you'd rather I not mention the height thing, so I won't say any of that."
She blushed a little bit and tucked her head against his arm a bit. She felt self-conscious again. He was married to a model? She didn't have much of a chance, she reasoned. "How did you and her meet?" she asked.
"She fell on the runway and twisted her knee. Came in for a consult." He laughed. "I have this mindset when I'm treating patients, I don't notice anything but the injury. I've had people tell me before that it can be off-putting. Anyway, I never really noticed her, whether or not she was attractive, didn't ask if she was available for dinner, or a drink, nothing. She told me later that it was a different experience, playing second fiddle to her knee." They turned the corner onto a larger, busier street. "When she came in for her final visit, I told her she could go back to work and smiled. She said it was the smile that made her ask me out."
"Your smile is dashing." she said, smirking a bit, though she got the feeling that this woman was very used to things being her way. She noticed she had her head on his arm still and she raised herself so she was standing straight once more.
"If we decide to stay up and watch the sun rise again for whatever reason, may I suggest going back to my house at some point? The view from there is a lot better than trying to see it through the buildings." She offered. It was a totally innocent offer and she made sure it sounded like that. She didn't want him to think her easy. She was anything but easy.
He blushed again at that, looking down shyly, though his lips did quirk into a quiet smile. He'd never heard his smile described as 'dashing' before, and although she'd been smirking when she said it, that made it no less a compliment. The quiet smile grew as he heard her offer. "I'd like that. I don't have a view of it from my apartment, and you're right. We'd never get a good look at it from this neighborhood." He took her offer as innocently as it had been intended. He did not intend to ruin this by moving too fast.
"Oh, also, if two large, burly men run up and sling me over one shoulder at the games and run away with me... Don't attack. Just run after and bid." she said, smiling faintly.
He looked startled. "Is...that likely to happen?"
"Yes. Jeff and Mike love picking me up and selling me off. Damned Campbells. Thankfully at least someone from Gregor or Donald see what they are doing and race after and capture me back. And then seek revenge. Though they don't have any young women in their clan." She said, smiling up at his surprised look.
"I see." He was trying to remain straightfaced, treating this as a very serious matter. "Who do you generally get sold to? Back to your clan? And how does the revenge part work?"
"Generally the King and Queen take interest in me and, after checking my teeth and my hands, decide I am good enough for their palace and I sit around there for a bit and chatter with the Queen about odds and ends until the leader of Donald comes and begs for the "young, fair madien" and the King and Queen often submit me at that point. And the revenge is always different. Though Campbell has started getting us back. Last year they gave us a case of "Campbell's Cream of Donald" soup. And our most recent revenge was to get a bunch of condoms, unroll them and squirt lotion into them and just litter their camping area. Or we go in and just take over their tent and change all the signs from Campbell to Donald. Though that usually involves them coming to our tent and begging for shelter from the terrible blizzard." She laughs, but then is unsure if he knows the story on Glencoe. She glances at him to see if he does indeed or if he'll be lost.
He was laughing by the time she mentioned the Cream of Donald soup. "I hope the nighttime massacre is at least a bit neater than the original, otherwise I'm sure the campsite owners might want a few words with you."
"Oh, you know Glencoe!" She says it like it's some secret and he just happens to be in on it, though it does earn his arm a two armed hug. "No one ever knows what the hell I am talking about and I always end up having to explain everything and feeling stupid." She said, not letting go of his arm just yet.
"Of course. It was pretty important at the time. I've always been interested in historical events like that." Still laughing, he hugged her back, resting his chin atop her head. It seemed natural to do so and he closed his eyes a moment, savoring the way she fit perfectly into his arms. Several cars passed without him noticing.
She isn't expecting the hug in return but she automatically relaxes into it. Her temple is resting right on the dip of his collarbone, her cheek and jaw on his sternum. Her shoulders are a little too slender to cover his chest, but they begin right at the beginning of his underarms. Her arms encircle his waist, her hands catching the fabric of his shirt right below his shoulder blades. Her hips meet his perfectly, slightly tilted to the right.
He breathed in slowly. She smelled like the restaurant, mussels and wine, but he could still smell that spring rain. "This is nice," he murmured, not even realizing he'd said it aloud.
"I concur wholeheartedly" She whispered in return, not moving at all besides her breathing. She closes her eyes for the most part, licking her lips unconsciously. This was nice and she could relax like this for a while. A long while. She took in a bit of a deeper breath, taking him in. She couldn't identify the various scents, though he also smelt like the restaurant. But he also smelled good, like man, like him. She closed her eyes all the way to better enjoy it.
He wasn't entirely sure how long he stood there, but a sharp wind blew down the street and made him shiver as it slid beneath the collar of his shirt. He pulled back a bit, looking down at her, and brought up a hand to brush her hair back again. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so comfortable with someone, and he'd met her so recently. The small idea he'd had last night spoke up again, louder, but he ignored it, promising to think about it later.
She held onto him a bit closer as he shivered at the wind, and she pulled back as he did. She looked up at him, studying his face though she already knew every line. She closed her eyes as his hand ran through her hair, leaning her head into his touch a bit. She had never felt so comfortable with anyone. Not even her husband. She really, really did not want this to be rushed or ruined.
"Part of me wants to stay like this all night," he whispered, then smiled a bit. "Another part wants to drop you off and go home to bed, so it will be tomorrow and I'll be able to see you again."
She laughed. Her laugh was always light and airy and full of the happiness and mirth that most people at her age had managed to forget. "Well, weigh the pros and cons and get back to me on your final decision, Timothy." She had decided at some point during her day of thinking about all that had happened the night before that she would continue to call him Timothy just because it often prompted him to call her Arleen and, well, she frankly loved him saying it.
He decided that despite his previous interest in going back to Patrick with her, he liked the way his name sounded when she said it. He liked it a lot. "I will, Arleen," he replied, smiling down at her before slipping an arm around her waist and starting to walk again, slowly, looking at the closed stores but thinking about tomorrow.
She flushed and shivered a bit at the use of her name and settled against his side as they walked. "Top 5 favorite movies." She doesn't really ask it, she's waiting for him to give her a list, but it's just not in question form.
"Ooh." He pursed his lips in thought. "Not in order: Empire Strikes Back, Vertigo, Dr. Strangelove, Seventh Seal, and..." He paused, trying to come up with a fifth. "...Battle Royale." He flushed a bit at the last. The movie was incredibly violent, not even sold in this country, but he enjoyed the psychological battles in it. He had the book as well. "Yours," he countered, also not asking a question.
"Pfft, Empire? It's ALL about Return." she countered. "And the Ingmar Bergman movie? And do you mean the Battle Royale from Japan? I don't think the new Bond movie is out yet.." She looks nervous at the thought of missing it. "Vertigo is the best Hitchcock movie out there, and Dr. Strangelove is amazing. For me... Hmm... Pulp Fiction, Silence of the Lambs, The Rainmaker, Forrest Gump and uh... The Big Lebowski. Not a word about any of those, by the way. But I also love the Lord of the Rings series and of course the Star Wars, even though the three new ones are totally crap." She sighed. "Really, midichlorians? Why couldn't the force remain magical?"
He stopped walking and turned to her, pointing a finger as if to lecture her. "First of all," he said in a mock-stern voice, "Empire is superior if only because of the lack of muppets. But in addition, it's the darkest of the three, and I agree about the prequels, they were awful, don't get me started on them, I beg of you. But Empire ends on such a dark note, and it's very psychological. Return was mainly trees and muppets. Although I will give you the final battle between Luke and Vader." He started walking again. "And yes, that is the Japanese movie. I'm surprised you've heard of it."
She stuck her tongue out at him. "Hey, don't knock the Muppets! And I mean.. yes, Empire was great but it is all about the scene with Luke and Vader. That makes the whole series. Maybe I have to rewatch the series." She considers this. She smiles broadly at his final words, catching up with him. "9th graders beating the snot and killing other 9th graders? I'll watch that. I love gore in movies. I love twisted mental struggles. If it's done well, anyway. Otherwise it's pretty crap. Oh, and City of Lost Children. How did I forget that?" She frowns at herself. She catches his hand without really noticing it.
He'd been content before. Now he felt ecstatic. "Have you seen the sequel?" he asked, his happiness evident in his voice. "Shuya is holed-up on an island and the BR class has to go on a mission to bring him down instead of just killing each other. It's not as good in terms of psychological struggles, but it does develop the character of Shuya." He slipped his fingers between hers absently. "I haven't seen the original trilogy in years. I'd love to watch it again."
"I didn't like the second one much. I fell asleep in the middle of it. Though, that could just be because I had been up for like 4 days or something stupid working on a case and I mainly had it on for background noise. What I did see was rather... weird. They tried too many deep scenes with the characters. And the plot was just.. It didn't make sense. But maybe I just need to see it again." She said. While she hadn't noticed her hand catching his, she sure noticed his fingers lacing with hers and her chest fluttered a bit and she bit her lip, smiling faintly over to him. She nodded. "I just got them on DVD, though I still have my original VHS. But I haven't even opened them yet."
He glanced down at her, a brow raised. "Really?" he said hopefully. He looked at his watch. It was just past 11. "Well..." He grinned widely. "I'm not tired."
"Oh, you are so on." She said, stopping instantly and turning back for the car, giddy. "I have popcorn already and if Trouble bugs us I'll lock him in my room." She promised, pulling him along by their laced fingers.
He followed, laughing, unlocking the car and opening the door for her again before getting in himself. He was just as excited now as he'd been when getting ready for their dinner, but without the nervousness to get in the way. "My apartment is just a few blocks out of the way and I have a bottle of wine I haven't opened yet. Or if you'd rather, a six-pack of a Wisconsin microbrew. What do you say?" He started in that direction.
"I'll stick with coke, but you snag whatever you want to drink." She said, more excited than she could remember, her hands on her knees, smiling to him. "And all together it's just over 6 hours so once the movies are over we can watch the sun come up again from my totally better vantage point." She suggested.
"Sounds ideal. And I'll stick with coke too, then. We'll save the wine for BR II. We can watch it at my place." He spared her a glance with that boyish grin before he concentrated on driving, getting them through the late-night bar traffic easily. Before long, they drew up in front of her house again.
The thought of spending more time with him, though she knew already that they were going to the games together the next two days, thrilled her. Once his car was in park she got out, removing her keys from her pocket. Trouble greeted her at the door and she scooped up the cat and put him over her shoulder. The cat, again, glared death at Timothy. It instantly put up battle ears and it's pupils dilated once more.
She one handedly threw popcorn in the microwave and went over to her tv. It was a nice, large, HD plasma. She opened up one side of the entertainment center and looked through the vast amount of movies there. The also had several DVD holders in the area. She loved movies and it was rather obvious. She found them and pulled them out, setting the cat down and automatically headed into the kitchen as the microwave beeped at her, struggling through the plastic wrap over A New Hope.
She got the popcorn into a bowl, snagged two cokes and wandered back out to her comfy and obviously slept on black leather couch and set down everything before popping the movie into the DVD player. She had speakers in the walls and the ceiling, surround sound, complete with subwoofer. She settled down next to him once it was going and Trouble jumped into her lap, his tail whipping in Timothys direction still, settling on her as if to say "Mine, go find your own!"
Taking off his boots, he put them neatly next to the door, going to ask her if she needed help, but she was moving quickly and efficiently, setting everything up, and he found himself just watching her move instead. Shaking himself out of it, he went to the couch and sat down, groaning a bit at how comfortable it was. He looked around at the DVD collection, the speaker equipment, the huge TV, and he smiled, leaning back and relaxing. He was already looking forward to more evenings spent in and found himself wondering what kind of takeout she liked. As she delivered the popcorn and cokes and sat beside him, he laughed at Trouble and put an arm around her shoulders to spite him. "You'll have to share," he said sternly to the disapproving cat.
The cats ears folded more, and at her not pushing the strange man away, he looked completely affronted. He jumped off her, his tail again erect as if to tell her she was a naughty human and he would deal with her later, and he went off. She smirked in his direction. "He'll get over it." She whispered, finding herself lightheaded at his arm around her shoulders. She settled against him, reacting to the movie as if it was her first time seeing it. Just like when he told his stories to her, she gasped, laughed, and looked serious at all the correct moments. In tense situations she would tense up.
She could feel herself getting tired and she tried to keep her mind active and busy, tried to drink her coke quickly, she ate the popcorn to keep her jaw working. It worked well enough for the moment. A New Hope ended and she cursed at herself for not stripping the second movie of it's protective wrap and annoying stickers. She got it out finally and popped it in and replaced the first one back in it's case and in it's correct place on the shelf.
She sat down and instantly went to work on the third one to free it as well. She settled against him for just a moment, she told herself it would just be a moment. But that was the last thing she could remember. She was out cold, settled against him and sleeping peacefully.
Timothy laughed with her, did his celebrated-in-college Sir Alec Guinness impression, and noticed every time their hands brushed in the popcorn bowl. As Empire started, he laughed at a few parts but he was alone in his comments and he glanced down. His heart seemed to melt in his chest as he realized she was asleep. Pressed against his shoulder, her hand resting lightly on his chest, fast asleep, breathing deeply. He brushed the hair out of her face with his other hand and hesitantly pressed a kiss to the top of her head, then rested his cheek against it and kept watching. He could feel himself drifting off and let it happen, contented.