Families
Much like she had expected, when Jon had said "dinner time" he really meant "a few hours before that to get the jump on you". Arleen had been running around the house trying to get ready for him, obviously nervous about it, all day.
Jon showed up around 2 and he was just as big and scary looking as he was in the photo of the two of them. He towered over Arleen by almost an entire foot and he just glared in the direction of Timothy. Arleen cleared her throat at him and he instantly looked back at her with a curious stare. She glared at him and said, "No glaring at my future husband." He nodded to her, looking defeated.
His head was starting to gain stubble, he had bruises and a few cuts here and there, the left side of jaw heavily scarred. He was in a black muscle shirt and black cargo shorts, doc martins with steeled toes on his feet. He gave Timothy a careful stare, trying to read him, as he extended his hand to shake his. Arleen was in almost the same outfit she had had on their first date. She folded her arms over her chest, watching him with a glare that dared him to step out of line.
Timothy sized him up as he got out, not quite prepared for how large he was, considering how slight Arleen was. As Jon glared at him, Timothy returned the look coolly. And when Arleen called him on glaring, he thought he knew the best way to handle this. Pushing down any trace of nervousness, he drew on some of his calm, authoritative bedside manner as he stepped forward and took Jon's hand in a solid, firm, confident grip. "Jon," he greeted him. "It's good to meet you. I'm Timothy Murphy, the man who loves your sister."
Arleen was resisting a face palm and Jon snorted in laughter, shaking Timothy's hand. "You introduce yourself like that often?" He asked, smiling. He didn't seem like that big a hard ass. In fact, he seemed very friendly and kind. "So, I won't be satisfied with this unless you can produce some type of proof." He said, but flinched when Arleen growled. "Or, y'know, not. I don't need proof." But his eyes glinted. He wanted proof and he would get it.
"Only when it seems like a good idea," he answered. "As for proof, I told her I loved her for the first time at the courthouse. There were a lot of witnesses, I'm pretty sure most of her co-workers were there. We could go find them," Timothy offered, smiling a bit. "If not, would the trip to Ireland work?"
"Ireland?" He asks, giving Arleen a look. She just shakes her head and leaves to find him a soda or something. And she can't take too much more of this, the blush is already bad, and it just keeps getting worse. A fleeting glare over her shoulder to demand her brother behave, and she's gone.
Jon smirked a little, his tone changing just the teeniest bit. "You have no idea how badly I fucked up her ex-husband. You'll beg for death when I'm done with you if you do the slightest thing to her, I swear to God.." He's warning him, which is his way of being nice.
"I met him once. He was waiting for us when we got back from Ireland." Timothy's gaze is ice cold as he remembers, his voice like steel. "He won't be back." He looks back at Jon. "I love her. There is no way to truly prove that until the day I die, having never laid a hand on her. But I'll tell you this: if I ever do anything to her that causes her to come and tell you, if I ever treat her the way he did," he glances aside to make sure she's gone nods a bit, "I invite you to beat my face in until I can't remember her face. My word." His eyes are clear and steady. He is dead serious.
"He was here?!" He snarls, barely catching the rest of his words. In the kitchen, something breaks. Jon moves past Tim, giving him a glare that he had better get this story.
"He was here," Timothy says sharply, meeting his glare steadily. "He will not. Be back."
"Did you call the police?" He asks, still headed for the kitchen, growling a little bit.
"No. He left when I told him to." In retrospect, they should have, but he'd been far too concerned about her to think of it. He frowns, following Jon and meeting him at the door.
Jon is in the kitchen now. Arleen had dropped a, thankfully empty, mug. She was steeling herself for her brothers explosion, mentally counting down. And when she gets to 0 in her head, he does in fact go off. "Where do you get off not telling me he was here?" He snapped at her.
She clenched her fists after dumping the rest of the shattered mug in the garbage can. "What do you mean where do I get off? I'm old enough to take care of myself, Jon. I don't need you to protect me."
He folded his arms. "You can take care of yourself? You don't need me to protect you? You liked getting slapped around by Chris, that it?"
She bristled. "That was different.." She tried to put force behind her words but it just doesn't work so she looks away, pushing her back into the counter a bit. He is mulling over the right words to say, he's so angry he can barely think straight.
Timothy strides forward, stepping between them, arms folded, staring Jon down with a steady look. It's not a glare, there's no anger there, just a clear confidence. "I took care of it. That's the end of it." His tone is even, leaving no room for argument. Though he is fairly certain that will not be the end of it.
"This has nothing to do with you." He growls at Timothy. Arleen set her hands on Tims shoulders, watching her brother from over his shoulder. Jon clenches his hands into fists.
"Everything about her has to do with me, now." He didn't back down, not an inch, and in fact leaned forward a bit. He felt Arleen's light touch on his shoulders, grounding him, and he stared Jon down.
Jon narrowed his eyes more, but he backs off. Arleen set her forehead on Tim's shoulder, sighing softly. Jon is pacing "I can't believe he was here and you didn't call and tell me." he growled at her.
She snorts. "Because you would have come down here.."
He glares but stops his pacing. "You're a lawyer and you didn't even call the police. Nothing." He says it like she's stupid.
"He isn't important," Timothy said dismissively. "And you will not speak to her in that tone." He is fully Dr. Murphy now, facing Fletcher again, facing Chris, defending her the way he knows best: by stating that this is how it will be. His arms are still folded, hands resting easily on his upper arms, not breaking his gaze.
Her hands are clenching the fabric of his shirt, she's nervous. Jon growls and folds his arms over his chest again, glaring at the tile of the kitchen. He's obviously given up on this for the moment.
Timothy drops his cold manner immediately. "Can I get you a beer? Or something to eat while we wait for dinner to be ready in, oh, four hours or so?" He leans back a bit, reassuring Arleen that everything is fine.
"Don't offer him be-" Jon cut through her whispered words. "Yes. Please." Arleen groans at both of them, but wraps an arm around Tim, pushing her face into the dip between his shoulder blades.
Jon does notice the contact, and he, now less angry, noticed Timothys quick defense. Tim gets points. Trouble wandered out into the kitchen and floofed up a bit at Jon. He didn't like strangers, which had been one reason Arleen had relaxed more with Tim. Trouble had liked him, and that had been enough for her. Jon smiled at the cat. "Hey, squirt, I remember when Arleen was still bottle feeding you.." he extended a hand to the cat, which was quickly swiped at. He laughed.
Tim nodded and stepped away from Arleen, giving her a quiet smile. He stooped to run a quick hand over Trouble, tweaking the tip of his tail as he stood again. "He doesn't like most people." He opened two beers quickly, handing one to Jon. "If you want to sit outside on the deck, I'll look for something to eat." He wanted to make sure Arleen was all right.
He nodded, accepting his beer with a "Thank you" and he went outside. Arleen rubbed her temples.
He put his hand on the small of her back, leaning in to kiss her temple lightly. "I thought that went well. Are you all right?"
"Yes. Don't let him have too many beers. That's his thing, alcohol." She whispered, leaning into him, closing her eyes and resting her head on his shoulder.
"I can't let him have too many, we only have six. Four, now." He pulls her closer, putting his chin on her head. "It'll be fine, love. Remind me to start the grill in three hours."
She sighed at him, but nodded in agreement. "Why did you tell him Chris had been here?" She asked.
"I didn't think. It slipped out. I'm sorry." He looked thoughtful. "We should have called the police. He hurt you."
"He hurt you too." She whispered. "But I don't want to deal with him. Not even for a restraining order.." It's half a lie. She is just still scared, in that battered wife mode where you know if you say something it'll just become worse. No, she'd rather it stay at it's current level than it advance beyond just his fists and his words.
"He did. Well, he won't get the chance to hurt either of us again. Tomorrow we'll call and report the attack, and apply for a restraining order."
"No. No we won't." She said firmly, pulling from him to give him a serious stare.
"Why wouldn't we?" he asked, matching her serious look. "He'll never lay a hand on you again."
"For me, Tim. Please, for me, lets just pretend he was never here and just move on with our lives, huh? For me. Please." She pleads with him
He hesitates, but she is so adamant... "If I see him again," he says quietly, trailing off, but allowing her this. For now.
She nodded a little, allowing him that. Give and take. She pushes her hair out of her face, huffing a bit.
"I'd better get out there," he said, kissing her lightly. "It will be fine." Squeezing her hand briefly, he started for the deck.
"I love you." She said before he was able to disappear outside. She got herself a mug of coke, like she had been trying to before, and finally followed after them. She was barefoot, she often was in the house. Jon had removed his shoes as well.
When Jon spotted her he set his beer down and took her glass. She protested mildly as he set it next to his beer. Next thing she knew she was slung over his shoulder and he was headed for the water. She wailed for Tim, though she was laughing. Trouble wandered out at her wail, but didn't go beyond the porch. He glanced at Tim as if for guidance.
"You're very popular for being carried off, aren't you?" he called after her, a large grin on his face, making no move to help her. He glanced down at Trouble. "Your mother is very cute when she's about to be dropped in the water."
"I hate you!" She yelled at him, trying to climb onto Jons shoulders to avoid being dropped in the still 'ass-cold' water. He got a good hold of her hips, held her out at arms length, already waist high in the water, and dropped her. She let out a cry and flailed in the water, trying to climb into his arms again, just to get away from the water. They had to be talking, it was impossible to hear for the distance, but he kept laughing. He said something about "Super Arleen" and she was now trying to get away from him.
He didn't let her out of the water until she was completely covered in salt water and sand. She trudged away from him. Super Arleen, it turns out, is holding her above ones head and tossing her forward so she flies. She glares at Tim, daring him to say something. Or laugh. Jon was still dry from the waist up.
After he'd seen her dropped in the water, Tim had put his beer down and gotten two large bath towels from the bathroom. He handed one to her now, solemnly, his expression very serious. Almost too serious. In truth, he was having a hard time not laughing, a very hard time, but he had a feeling that if he cracked, she could be very mean to him.
She just wrapped up in the towel, complaining about the water, about her brother. Jon was just laughing hysterically behind her. She gave Tim a "defend me" look, pouting.
"Don't look at me," he said, putting his hands up in a 'not-my-fault' gesture. "You're already wet, I don't want him to do that to me too."
She glared and retaliated against him by forcing a hug, pressing her cold, wet body against his.
He let out a protesting noise, then sighed as she got his shirt thoroughly wet. "Don't see why that was necessary," he muttered, wiping away a bit of water from his neck and giving her a dirty look, though his eyes were sparkling as they often did when he looked at her.
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
"I do." She said with a little laugh. Jon was snickering at them, taking a drag of his beer. She dried off as best she could before excusing herself to shower and literally running through the house in the hopes of not dripping too much. He cleared his throat. "Where were we?" He asked, obviously not yet done with Tim.
"Something about proof that I love your sister more than anything else on this earth, I think," Tim answered steadily, taking a drink and leaning against the railing of the deck. "I said we could ask her co-workers, but we got sidetracked."
"Oh, explain this whole Ireland thing to me. I remember Ireland was said." he said, also resting on the railing. He is relaxed again.
"Right." He paused, wondering how Jon would take this. "I took her there. My mam lives in Ireland and I'd been planning a visit, so I asked her to come with me."
He perked a brow at the pause. "Maybe I should get a time line for all this. I mean, how long you two been dating?" He asked.
He paused again, then turned to look at Jon. "Almost five months," he answered steadily.
He nods, though it obviously takes a little force. "And when was the trip to Ireland? We did notice that she didn't call Mom for her birthday.." Her mothers birthday had been just a week ago. Jon is assuming they just got back.
"We were there in March," Timothy answered, then frowned. "It was her mother's birthday recently?"
"June 29th." He said. Then he paused. "Wait. Wait... If you have been dating almost five months... that means that she went to Ireland with you after only dating you for a few weeks at most? How long have you two known each other?"
He has no idea how Jon will take this, so he delivers it in the same way as all his other statements: calmly and clearly. "We met on St. Patrick's Day, in a bar neither of us wanted to go to."
"...What the hell was she doing in a bar?" He gives him a look like he doesn't much believe him.
Timothy laughs. "Her co-workers dragged her there after work, same as me. 'You're Irish, you have to come and have a drink with us!'" he mimicked, shaking his head. "It was awful. Some college bar they'd done over in green shamrocks and added a Mc to the name. I was so happy to get out of there and go to Kennedy's instead."
He seems to believe this, he even lets off a little laugh. "Poor Arleen.. They do that every year. But.. 17th.. How long were you two in Ireland?"
"Only a week," Timothy answers, sounding a little wistful.
His mind is working fast. "So, she must have gone with you after like, not even a week. Did you drug her or something? She is never like that with guys."
Timothy looks angry for a moment before he realizes Jon isn't serious. If he had been, Timothy wouldn't still be standing. "I just...asked her. At the Games. I thought of it the first night, the night we met, but it was too early then," and as he finishes he realizes how ridiculous that sounds, as he ended up asking her four days later anyway.
"I think I need a calendar..." he admitted, running a hand over where his hair should be, thinking to himself. Arleen wandered out, still barefoot, clean again. She's in tight fitting capris and a thin strapped shirt which also fit her well, showing off the muscles in her stomach. Jon looked like he wanted to dunk her in the ocean again.
Timothy laughed and followed his gaze, then smiled as he saw Arleen, admiring her. He saw Jon's look and held up a finger. "One dunk a day. Unless it's really warm out."
"Oh, thanks, Tim." She pouted at him, and quickly ducked away from her brother and hid by Tim. He snickered at her, an evil glint in his eye. Arleen told Tim he still had 30 minutes left before he had to begin cooking.
"Thanks, love," he answered absently, not really noticing the endearment as it had become almost second-nature. He took another drink of his beer, catching her hand and squeezing it briefly, smiling at her with warmth in his eyes.
Again, Jon is watching them, watching their exchange. He looks away before he is noticed. She returned his smile and his warmth and helped to explain the whole thing to him. When she got to the part of 'Star Wars' she had to stop, Jon was laughing hard enough to lose some beer through his nostrils.
Timothy was laughing at the memory. "You know, we still haven't finished watching them," he said thoughtfully.
"I know, but are you sure you're going to be able to handle all the Muppets and trees?" She asked, smirking up at him, her hair drying in the heat into tightly sprung curls.
He sighed heavily. "It'll be a struggle. I won't deny that. But like you said, Vader and Luke's fight scene will be worth it." He brushed a curl out of her face, grinning. He'd seen her hair like this a few times, and the first time had been a shock, but he'd gotten used to it now and liked it a lot.
She laughs, capturing his hand and kissing his knuckles softly. Jon makes a sound. "You two are making me sick, Christ." She stuck her tongue out. "We didn't ask you to come." He made a face in return "At least I warned you."
Timothy laughed. "I have to start the grill anyway." He gave her hand a squeeze before setting his beer down and walking into the house to get the bulk hamburger out of the refrigerator.
She explains what she can manage, and at her brothers comment that she doesn't look like she has eaten she explains the whole trial situation. He warms up more to Tim the more he hears about him and watches the two of them interact.
Timothy has kept away from her for the most part during the evening, though he will brush her shoulder lightly with his fingers or put his hand on the small of her back. The warmth never leaves his eyes. At the end of the evening, he pushes his plate away, grinning. "Murphy family recipe, those burgers. From an Italian family, back in Chicago."
She doesn't much understand his distance, and it worries her a bit. She's still sore from losing him for 2 months and wants to keep as close as possible, but she doesn't press the issue. She smiles anytime he speaks and Jon looks interested to hear about Chicago.
Timothy tells a few stories about growing up Irish in an Irish-Italian neighborhood. Danny Giannini comes up a few times. The sun starts to go down over the horizon and Timothy is finishing up the story of the two of them finding a gold-wrapped chocolate when they were five and scouring the streets for hours looking for the rest of the gold. His fingers are twined with Arleen's, finally having given in to his desire to touch her.
Jon looks tired and Arleen finally leads him off once Timothy and him are done speaking. She gets him settled in a guest bedroom and she wanders back out, playing with the bottom hem of her shirt
Timothy has finished his beer and is watching the technicolor sunset when she comes out again. He gets up and crosses to her, taking her hand and kissing it lightly with a smile. He notes her slightly worried expression. "Are you all right?"
"You've been avoiding me." She says before she really thinks. He manages to get her to just spit out the truth.
He sighs, taking a step forward and taking her into his arms, hugging her tightly. "I know, I'm sorry. I was trying to keep it from getting uncomfortable for your brother. I haven't wanted to, believe me." He kisses her cheek lightly.
"He can kiss my ass it's our house." She said, relaxing against his chest. "He wants to show up and glare at you for 2 days to make sure you're not hurting me, he can deal with us being lovey-dovey. And if he tries to bother us during our sunrise in the morning I'll throw something at him."
He laughed at her vehemence and kissed her deeply for a moment. "Fair enough. No more distance. It's been driving me nuts anyway." He twined his fingers through hers again.
She smiled, kissing him back and then saying, "I thought I had done something wrong. I have no idea how you will react to me doing wrong."
"What could you possibly do that I'd consider 'wrong'?" he asked curiously, wrapping his arms around her waist.
"I don't know.. Paint the whole house black? Get a dog? Pierce my nipples. I'm sure there are a lot of things I could do that you would have a negative reaction to."
He thinks a moment. "A black house would take some getting used to. It would be hell on the air conditioning. I think Trouble might be more upset with you than I would if you got a dog. As for the last..." He smirked a bit. "I might be able to get used to it..."
"Okay, bad examples.. If I was pregnant or cheating on you?" She asked.
He looks more serious at that. "I would be upset if you were cheating on me, but I think I'd be more hurt than angry. I'd rather you came to talk to me if you thought we were having problems." His face softened a bit. "And I can't imagine being upset if you told me you were pregnant."
She raises her brows a bit, not expecting that answer, nor the flutter in her chest she felt at that idea. She pushed it down and promised to think about that later, but she really can't help the look on her face.
He catches the look and isn't entirely sure what it means, but he remembers the incident she'd had with Chris and he doesn't pursue it, just leans down to kiss her again.
She kisses him in return, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I love you. And I'm not the cheating type." She says, lowering one hand and settling it on his scar.
He covers it with his hand. "I love you, too. And I never thought you would be," he smiles a bit. He rests his chin on her head, gazing out at the sunset. It's nearly gone by now, a few dark streaks of pink left in the sky.
She smiled, kissing his adams apple. "What would you be feeling if I told you I was pregnant?" She asked. He had given her a run down of everything else but that he had been a bit vague about.
His heart jumps a bit at her direct question. He'd been intending to leave that. He brushes her hair back from her face. "I don't know exactly, but I'm pretty sure 'ecstatic' would be part of it," he whispered, his heart pounding. He'd all but given up on the idea of having kids. He was turning 40 this year, next month already, and Cynthia hadn't had any interest in them.
She tries to hide her smile and her blush by bowing her head and pushing her face into his chest.
He strokes her hair lightly, aware that she's blushing. "I suppose...we should talk about that," he whispers, feeling nervous flutters in his chest.
"What, children?" She asks, smiling to herself.
"Yeah. Children." He says it a bit wonderingly.
Instead of responding how most normal people do, she says. "I've been turning down cases."
He pulled back to look down at her. "You've been turning down cases?" he repeated. "That's not like you."
She licks her lips and tries to think of the best way to explain this. "Like how you realized in our separation that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me I realized the same thing.. My desire to start a family with you is stronger than the want to take every case that comes my way... I'm kinda purposely clearing up my case load... just in case..."
He feels almost lightheaded at her words. "Start a family?" he repeats again, faintly. "I'd...almost given up on the idea of having kids..."
"If you don't want them it's fine. Like I said, just in case." she says, mistaking his faint words and his pauses as meaning he isn't warm to the idea.
He shakes his head quickly, cupping her face gently. "I do," he says, softly but with conviction. "God, Arleen, nothing would make me happier than to raise a family with you."
She visibly perks up, setting her hands over his, locking her eyes with his. She is shaking a little bit, nervous, excited, happy, giddy.
He is smiling more widely now. "I really never thought I'd have kids," he murmurs. "Cynthia wasn't interested, and I'm getting up there, to be a new father." At the words 'new father' he flushes a little and his eyes widen a bit.
"Nah. My friend growing up, her mom was 42 when she had her, and her father was 39 or 40 I think." She shrugged her shoulders, smiling, pulling him into a kiss. She could dance. She considers it. She would if she didn't fail at dancing. Dancing in the moonlight, she wouldn't mind it.
He kissed her back, his fingers light on her jaw, arm tight around her waist. He leaned against the railing, pulling her tight against him. "God, I love you, Arleen," he whispered in her ear. "I feel as though I'm awake, for the first time."
She laughs. "I love you too.. but what do you mean awake for the first time?" She asked, pulling back to scan his eyes.
"All my life, I've just done what other people have told me to do, I've just gone along with the crowd. It got me to Cambodia, and you'd think that would have finished me of that, but when I got back it seemed like an even better idea." He brushes her hair back from her face. "Then I met you, and the voice that lets me know what other people would expect just...went quiet. So I did what I wanted to, for the first time, and this is where I am now." He kissed her again softly. "I couldn't be happier."
She smiles happily, playing with his hair, leaning into him, returning his kiss. "You will be. On the day we're married, on the day our child is born, you will be happier than you are now." She promises him, pressing herself into his chest more.
He smiles contentedly, tightening his arms around her. "I'm not sure I can hold that much happiness and not start shouting it out to everyone, from the rooftop."
She laughs, kissing his jaw. "You forgot to call your mom again today. Cynthia has to have gotten to her by now.." She says, laughing to herself.
His eyes widened. "Oh, god, you're right. I was so distracted by Jon coming, I..." He shook his head. "Cynthia can't have told her, though. We would have heard from her about three seconds after they'd hung up. Maybe she's on vacation. I'll call her first thing tomorrow morning, though."
She smiles at the face he made. She just basks in him for a few moments. "The last of my cases should end around October. Do you want to start now or wait until October or wait until after we're married, speaking of which when are we doing that?" She asked her questions rather rapid fire
Timothy laughs at her quick questions. "I think we should wait until after we're married, first off, and as for when we're doing that, when would you like to?" He rests his head on hers. "It's a second marriage for both of us, it's not as if we need a big ceremony and registration for dishes and towels."
"If I didn't think both of our mothers would be after our blood I would say 'Screw it lets just go to the court house.' Or Vegas. I would totally get married in Vegas. To a fat sweaty guy dressed like Elvis." She rested against him, amused.
He laughs again at that idea. "Mam would hunt us down. I can hear her: 'No son o' mine is gettin' married by a pop singer!'" He was quiet a moment. "I suppose I should meet your parents sometime before the wedding. And Sean."
"I have no idea how they'll respond to you." She says honestly, "They loved Chris. Loved. Pushed for me to marry him. Either they'll love you as well or they'll hate you just to be on the safe side. And I would like to speak to your mom beyond 'A.C. Makem' and 'Criminal defense attorney'."
He frowns a bit at the idea that they'd pushed her to marry the man who had turned out to be abusive and dangerous. "Well, once Mam gets going, you'll mostly be listening. If you're lucky, you'll be listening to what's wrong with members of her social circle and not what's wrong with you." He sighs. "She can be very judgmental. Although she loves Cynthia, and Cynthia likes you a lot. That will count for something."
"Well, ain't she flowers and sunshine? I can deal, though. My grandmother was like that." She shrugged her shoulders. Her hand had managed to slip under his shirt at some point and her fingers were lazily tracing his scar.
He shivered a bit at her light touch. "We won't see her much. Even when we're in Ireland, she prefers to keep to her social engagements, none of which we'd be interested in." He stroked her side. "What about your parents? Tell me about them?"
"Mom just turned 62, Dad is 58. Mom is where I get the Scottish blood. She's the Donald in the family and I just like them best. My father is a bit of a drunk who still has flashbacks of Vietnam. Neither of them cook, really, beyond crap like bacon and such. Jon has always failed at cooking so I learned how to cook young for everyone. Dad says my grilled cheese are amazing but he makes me butter the hell out of both sides of the bread and to throw butter in the pan. He is so nasty. They both smoke cigarettes. Mom has bad taste in music, Dad has a little bit better taste but not much." She shrugged. "Anything in particular? That might be easier than picking out their 'qualities'."
"What do they do? Are they retired?" he asked, leaning back against the railing of the deck and pulling her with him gently. "And I'll have to try one of your grilled cheese, I love those."
She let him, remaining firmly against his chest as if drawn by a magnet. "Mom is. She was a dispatcher. First for the police department then for the school system nearby. Dad still works. He is an electrician. And good luck, it'll stop your heart and not because it's tasty."
He nodded, smiling a bit. "I'm sure one taste won't hurt," he teased her a bit.
She smiled, raising her hand away from his scar and tickling him. "No teasing."
"Oh, when did that become a rule?" He squirmed, grabbing her fingers and lacing them with his, grinning.
"Since I said so." She said, kissing the tip of his nose. "Why,you got a problem with the no teasing rule?"
"Of course. How will I get to see you blush if I can't tease you?" he asked in a reasonable tone, brushing her hair back behind her ear.
"That's just the point right there." She says, smiling up at him with warmth in her eyes.
"Oh, I see. You don't like it when I make you blush, is that it? You disapprove, Dr. Makem?"
"I do disapprove, Dr. Murphy." She said, sticking her tongue out at him.
"Well, Dr. Makem, my professional opinion is that that..." He leaned down and kissed her lightly. "...is too damn bad."
"I hate you sometimes." She whispered, her arm wrapped around his neck, her fingers in his hair.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead, pulling her tight against him. "I know," he said, smirking a bit. "But you're too fun to resist."
She smiled more, pressing herself against him, tucking her head under his chin again. They went to bed, her insisting on PJs just in case her brother decided to bother them. It was early July and so the sunrises were stupidly early.
She was settled out with Tim when she heard the phone ringing. She figured maybe it was her mother or something to complain about her not telling them. She left her mug of coffee on her chair next to Tim and wandered in, picking up the cordless and clicking it on. "Hello?" She asked into it.
There was a pause. "Arleen, is it?" came a sharp Irish voice. "I'll speak to you, then. I received a phone call from Cynthia yesterday, she calls me to speak quite often, very nice to a puir wumman all alone in the city, and she informed me that my son is engaged to be married. Is this true?"
She almost dropped the phone. She didn't manage much, just a faint sound. "Uh.. yes..?" Her voice was weak and she had to lean on the counter to keep steady. Niamh intimidated her.
"And when exactly was he planning on telling his mother? Typical of the boy, he's so thoughtless, if we hadn't run into you two in Galway I would never even have known my son was in the country, let alone seeing someone new, and seriously enough to be engaged! You two have only just met, and of course I have nothing against you, dear, but Cynthia was such a love and we all know how that worked out, though Christian is simply a dear and I couldn't be happier for her."
Timothy glanced behind him as he noticed Arleen wasn't back yet and pushed out of his chair, following her inside. He looked concerned at her posture. "Arleen?"
She is listening to Niamh rattle along in her ear, silent. She jumped a foot in the air when Tim said her name, gasping loudly, putting her hand over her heart and staring at him with wide eyes. She pointed to the phone and mouthed 'Your mother'
"Oh god," Timothy took the phone immediately. "Mam, it's six o'clock in the morning. Yes, we were up, but that doesn't matt- I know you waited until 2 o'clock your time to call, yes I'm sure it was a struggle to wait that long, I'm sorry I didn't call yesterday, Arleen's brother is visiting and- Mam- " Timothy cut off, rolling his eyes to the ceiling and just listening now.
She bit her lip. She normally would have been laughing but she was too shooken up, too nervous.
Timothy had a long-suffering look on his face. "Mam." He didn't speak sharply, just calmly and forcefully, to get her attention. "I proposed to Arleen at the courthouse, just after her case was finished and the court-ordered separation was rendered void. That was two days ago. We have hardly gotten used to it ourselves. No, we haven't started planning the wedding yet." Timothy looked surprised. "Have it...Mam, we can't have it there. All of Arleen's family lives here."
She raised her head and blinked. "What?" She touched his scar faintly. "Tim, she isn't suggesting we get married we Ireland?" she asked.
"She is suggesting just that. Maria didn't go home to get married, and neither did Cynthia and I." He rested his hand over hers, looking at her curiously. "Why? Would you like to, love?"
"I... Yeah, I mean, that's... That's where" She applies a small amount of more pressure to his scar.
He smiled quietly. "That is where," he repeated, sliding an arm around her waist. "Would you like to get married...there? On that mountain?"
She glances at the phone, giving him a curious glance as there had been no ending to the conversation and thus Niamh was sitting there listening to them. She gave him a look.
Timothy realizes he's still holding the phone. "Mam, I'll call you later. Yes, honestly. Later today. Before eight your time, all right. All right, Mam." He hangs up the phone. "Sorry. She was so quiet. I'd half-assumed she'd hung up already."
She was still serious. "Is she angry?"
"Oh, she loves things like this, her friends will hear for months about how her lovely daughter-in-law was the one to inform her of her ungrateful son's engagement." He was smiling a bit as he spoke. "She's not angry, no. She's delighted. If she was angry, she wouldn't have suggested we have the wedding in Ireland."
She looks nervous still, biting her lip. "You're sure?" She asked weakly, watching him. She was so worried, she wanted to please his mother and she would want to please his sister. And even Cynthia.
"Of course I'm sure, I've dealt with her for years. If she was angry, she wouldn't be showing an interest at all." He kissed her forehead. "It's all right, love. No one is angry, all right? Besides, I have you, and you have me. No one else matters."
"You're going to keep using that line now, aren't you?" She asked, smirking a little. She did close her eyes and relax when he kissed her forehead.
"Yes, I am. Because it's true, and I couldn't be happier." He squeezed her waist lightly. "I think it might be time for some breakfast. What time does your brother usually get up?"
"I have no idea. Not 6 though. He hates mornings. Though he had to have gotten up early yesterday to get here as soon as he had." She said. Trouble heard 'breakfast' and came bounding in, putting his front paws on Tims knee.
"And good morning to you, Troublemaker," Tim said, laughing as he leaned down to scratch behind Trouble's ears. "All right, I'll feed you. Do you want to wait for him before we eat, or should we make something now and when he wakes up we can give him something?"
"Oh, you feed the cat I'll wake up the pit bull." She said, kissing him before moving off to wake up her brother. She returned with him in tow. He had his shirt off and was just in jeans. His torso had a lot of scars from his bar fights. She handed him a mug of coffee and he put enough sugar in it to make her cringe.
If Tim noticed the massive amounts of sugar Jon put in his coffee, he didn't comment. "Morning Jon. Breakfast? I'm making pancakes."
They ate their pancakes, Jon hung around for a few hours, and at some point during the morning decided that Tim was fine and level. He left right after lunch and Arleen flopped face first down on the couch. She rolled onto her back after a few minutes and crossed her feet at the ankle. "What do you want to do for the wedding?" She asked, lacing her fingers together and tucking her hands behind her head. "Believe it or not, I'm anything but a bridezilla. Chris had to ask me like 7 times what I wanted for everything. I'm so bad with weddings." She admitted. She had changed into a tank top and some tight fitting shorts that went just past the knee.
"Simple. All I want...is simple." Tim sat next to her on the couch, tipping his head to lean it against the back. "Cynthia didn't ask my opinion on much. I'm better than a lot of men, but I still get that 'deer-in-the-headlights' look when confronted by seven swatches of white satin." He turned to look at her, his hand finding hers. "I want a wedding that's about us, not about looking like a magazine shoot."
She snickered. "I would also get a deer in headlights look at swatches of white satin. Though I think it would only take 4 of them to bring that reaction from me. But I'm so all for simple." She said, shifting so her head was in his lap. She took a moment to just hold his hand and smile with glee. "We're totally engaged. This is very 'awesome-possum'."
He started laughing, fingers tightening around hers. "I think I might have fallen for you the first time I heard you say that. Just a little bit."
"Just a little?" She echoed, smirking up at him. She shifted a little closer to him, breathing him in, just enjoying this. "Well, you passed the first test. Jon is the hardest ass in the family. Once you win him over, you'll be fine." She said, smiling now.
"There was a lot more soon," he said, smiling down at her. At her next words, he grinned and raised a fist in mock-triumph, then sighed quietly. "And you'll get to meet Maria. And Josh." He closed his eyes in pain at the name.
"Oh, Josh must be loads of fun for you to make that face." She said, studying his face. "Speaking of your family, you'd better call your mom soon or else she'll be pissy again."
"Josh is famous. And he really doesn't want you to forget that." He sighed. "I know. In a few minutes." He was far too comfortable to get up at the moment, enjoying the feeling of her hand.
"Oh, goodie." She said, rolling her eyes. "You might have to jerk the choke chain and keep me in check. I hate people who are full of themselves."
"Oh god, I am not looking forward to this. Josh isn't full of anything but himself. Well," he amended, "I can think of one other thing he's full of."
"Shit?" She ventures. She is smirking. "Let me guess, your mom likes him because he's famous and social?"
"Bulls-eye. And Mam hates him, actually. He's very disrespectful, toward everything, including Da. And Mary, for that matter." Tim scowled a bit. "He's a fairly useless bit of humanity."
"Why the hell she marry him?" She asked, her expression serious now, running her thumb over his knuckles.
He looked a bit sad at that question. "I don't really know," he answered. "She seems happy enough with him, although I really can't tell if he cares much about her."
"Would you hate me if I put him in his place if he said anything off kilter?" She asked, looking up at him.
He raised a brow. "I think I might love you even more if you did that. I've been wanting to for years, but if I did it Mary would pout and complain to Mam, then Mam would complain to me and tell me to be nice to my brother-in-law. I know from experience." He took her hand in both of his, turning to her. "Please, please...don't hold back on giving that ass a piece of your mind."
She gives him a look, like she isn't sure about it. She figures if she says anything too sharp that Mary would bitch her out, then call up Niamh and make her bitch her out. She smiles at his pleading. "I'll keep my tongue unless he does something I don't like. But, keep in mind, I am used to Thomas Fletcher, it's hard to bother me now. He's ruined me in that field."
Tim's eyes go a bit hard at the name. "He hates you," he says quietly. "Why?"
She blinked, not expecting him to turn so serious. "We had a case when I first moved down here and was a no body for LA. He figured he had it in the bag, got a bit lazy with his case. I won. He was trashed, lost his job at his firm. Everything fell apart for him, and he put it all on me, though he said I twisted things around. I mean, I did, that's what you do, but I barely had to, he was so unfocused. His wife left him for not having a job, and he became my personal enemy. He's pulled himself up, but, he still hates me."
"He tried to attack you, verbally, that day you came out and saw us talking." He smiled a bit, though there was no humor in it. "Called you a few things I didn't like much. He won't be doing that again."
She laughs because she's too used to it to be much wounded by Thomas' words. "Don't let anything he says get to you, Tim." She sat up, twisting and kissing him.
"He won't be saying anything if I have my way. I am fairly sure I scared him pretty deeply. He isn't able to look me in the eye anymore, I know that." He put his arm around her waist, pulling her close and kissing her back.
"No intimidating my opponents." She mock-scolds, resting her legs over his knee.
"Sorry, dear. It's a little late for that one, but I'll keep that in mind from now on." He puts a hand lightly on her calf, smiling down at her, his eyes laughing.
She smiled, her eyes dancing, setting her hand over his, pressing her temple into his shoulder.
He rested his head against hers for a moment before sighing and shifting. "I suppose I should call Mam back. I'm sure she's sitting by the phone, glaring at it, willing it to ring, but she'll go out soon. I'd like to catch her before then." He kissed her temple, squeezing her calf gently, before shifting out from under her and going to the phone. He sat down as he found the cordless remote; he had a feeling this would be a long conversation, and he wouldn't be doing much of the talking.