30 Rock, General Series. Many Prompts.
Title: Here We Go (Once and Once Again)
For: drabbles100
Prompts (in order of appearance): 97. Writer's Choice (Arbor Day), 083. Lost, 054. Air, 057. Lunch, 026. Teammates, 023. Lovers, 056. Breakfast, 055. Spirit, 094. Solstice, 074. Dark, 049. Queen, 070. Storm, 042. Triangle, 046. King, 041. Shapes, 051. Water, 035. Sixth Sense, 099. Writer's Choice (Return), 062. Spring, 040. Sight, 093. Thanksgiving, 067. Snow, 092. Christmas, 095. New Year, 019. Pink, 032. Sunset
Fandom: 30 Rock
Pairing: Jack/Liz
Word Count: 350 + 296 + 185 + 285 + 500 + 415 + 356 + 220 + 215 + 170 + 240 + 148 + 330 + 181 + 330 + 325 + 500 + 311 + 233 + 430 + 180 + 202 + 500 + 450 + 285 + 225 = 7,862
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: S1
Author's Notes: Table is here.
Summary: From Arbor Day to Valentine's, things shift between Jack and Liz.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue.
*
Arbor Day
*
"So, Lemon," Jack begins, "how shall you be spending your Arbor Day?"
Liz shrugs. "I don't know. When is it?"
"Today."
"Well, I guess I'll be spending it by working."
"Really? No Arbor Day parties to attend later in the evening?"
She pauses, confusion spreading over her face. "Is Arbor Day something you normally celebrate?"
"Is that so strange? I suppose this means you don't want a slice of my tree-shaped cake."
"Hey, I said nothing about not wanting cake." There's another silence, then, "It doesn't taste like bark, does it?"
"No, it does not. I'm not even sure that's possible. And if it's not, I highly doubt such a flavor is currently being developed."
Liz nods. "Yeah, you're probably right."
"To get back to my original question: are you really not doing anything tonight?"
She groans. "Dude, I'll plant a tree next year. Just get off my back."
"I suppose I need to be more direct. What I'm asking you is: would you like to have dinner with me this evening?"
"Oh. You're asking me out on a date?"
"Yes."
Her smile is one of realization. "Is that why you didn't tell me not to eat too much of this tree cake? Because you're trying to woo me?"
"Perhaps Arbor Day just inspires feelings of generosity in me. But, yes, that is why I didn't try to limit your hypothetical cake." He pauses. "While I'm being honest, I should admit that I don't normally celebrate Arbor Day. I thought it was something you'd be interested in. And I was certain about your love for cake, so I naturally commissioned the tree cake."
"Yeah," Liz says. "There's no way to go but a tree cake."
Jack frowns at her. "I suppose I should take your mockery as a refusal of my invitation."
"No, don't take it that way. I'm just not sure how to react to you wooing me with cake."
"Cake was just an element of the plan, not the whole of it. So, would you like to have dinner with me?"
"Um. Yeah. Fine."
*
Lost
*
The date is not bad, but Liz is determined not to have any more of them. Because, really, how can she date Jack? He's her friend and her boss and he can be so annoying.
He's not really annoying during the date. That annoys her a little.
At the end of the evening, he walks her to her door.
"You're not coming in." She says this too loudly, and he just stares at her. "I mean... I don't think we should rush into anything. Because you're my boss. And my friend." She doesn't even come close to mentioning the thing about him being annoying. Since she's pretty nervous, she's proud of herself for not letting that slip. "So. We should take it slow."
"I understand completely."
Then she's pressed against the door, his mouth on hers. She lets out a gasp against his lips, but the surprise quickly turns to acceptance, even sooner turns to her kissing him back. After he pulls away, she tries to tell him that she's still not going to let him in, but she's too dazed to talk.
"Goodnight, Lemon."
She finds herself staring at his mouth. "Um. Goodnight, Jack."
He takes a step, then turns back to her. "Are you free on Saturday?"
"Me? Uh, I am. Yes. Let's do something."
Well. There goes her whole 'not having another date with Jack' thing. Her brain is kind of a jerk.
"Yes, we'll make plans." His fingers brush over the length on her arm. "I'll see you tomorrow, Lemon."
"I'll see you tomorrow as well."
As she watches him walk down the hall, there are a million questions swimming around in her head, followed by multi-part answers in essay form. One thing's for sure: she has no idea what they're doing.
*
Air
*
After a couple more dates, she lets him in. But not, she repeats, not for sex. Just to talk.
The extended kissing session is entirely an accident.
And it's not unpleasant.
Which is to say that she enjoys it more than she would've expected, even with that pretty great first kiss. Because this is really great. That fact makes it hard for her to stop kissing him, even though she's telling herself that she can't, repeat, can't let it go too far. She has to, you know, understand what they're doing before he sees her naked.
It's the sensible thing to do.
So when one of his hands starts to move from a neutral area of her body to her chest, she chooses this time to pull away and take a breath.
"Okay," she says. "That was nice. Go home."
"That was... rather sudden."
"Well, it just occurred to me that I might have sex with you tonight, and it's too soon. So. I think we should call it a night."
"Very well. Just..." He pauses. "...give me a moment."
"Um... No offense, but ew."
*
Lunch
*
By the time TGS's season is over, Jack and Liz have been on seven official dates. Date number eight is lunch the Monday after Liz's vacation starts.
It's kind of weird to not have work to talk about, but they manage by discussing the future of their relationship.
Man, she misses talking about work.
Because talking about their relationship involves discussing the sex they haven't had; whether or not she wants to be the chick who's dating the boss; if they should use the summer as a trial run for their relationship. After all, no one has to know about any possible romantic failure if it occurs during vacation. But she and Jack would know, which would make stuff awkward. However, the most pressing problem for Liz at the moment is the fact that the people at the next table are listening to them.
"They're not even being discreet! Yeah, pretend not to hear that."
Jack clears his throat. "I assume you're trying to avoid talking about this by making a scene."
Liz frowns. "Not consciously. And I don't think I was making a scene. I just don't like people being jerks. Yeah, I called you two jerks." Starting to feel embarrassed for herself, she says, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to freak out."
"I think you're, as you say, freaking out because this isn't what you want."
Liz doesn't know if that's true, so she doesn't dispute it. "Yeah. We should just be friends. Friends who've made out a few times."
One of the women at the next table says (in a bad impersonation of Jack), "Those are the best kind of friends, Lemon."
"See?" Liz says. "They were listening. Not cool."
*
Teammates
*
Jack calls her from time to time. Sometimes to 'pick her creative brain,' other times just to talk. One night, he invites her over to his place. When she enters, there are stacks of DVDs on the floor. "I need your help."
"Organizing your DVD collection? Not to brag, but I'm awesome at that."
Jack looks at her as if that's the saddest thing he's ever heard. "No. I went to lunch with Rupert Murdoch today, we have another lunch scheduled for later in the week, and I'm fairly sure he'll be offering me a job. So I had Jonathan purchase as many Fox shows on DVD as he could find. Should I start with 24 or Prison Break?"
Liz's face falls. "What? You can't go to Fox."
"Why not?"
Liz hesitates. "A lot of reasons." She pauses again, trying to think of something that doesn't make it sound like she's interested in him. "What about your microwaves? You just got them back. Really, Jack, did you think about your microwaves at all?"
"Of course, Lemon. Of course. But my time as NBC's Vice President of East Coast Television has been riddled with disasters. The fireworks in Midtown. Gold Case. That show I helped develop for those two dogs who could say 'I love you.'"
"Yeah, they weren't convincing as lawyers."
"This will be a fresh start. A chance to finally put Law, Love, and Lassies completely behind me."
"You can't go to Fox." Another pause. "I don't want to have to hold a wake for your soul."
"Rupert isn't a bad man. Just misunderstood."
"Yeah, sure. You're not going to Fox."
"I may be going, and I want to learn the intricacies of the programming before I do. I was flying blind during the beginning of my tenure at NBC, and this time, I want to take to the air with 20/20 vision. And you can introduce me to these shows with your keen, nerdish insight."
"I'm not helping you please Rupert Murdoch."
"You'd be helping me. Does it matter to what end?"
"Yeah. That was my point."
Jack holds up a season of Family Guy. "Should I start with this?"
"Ugh. No." She grabs it from his hand. "Watch a season of The Simpsons, if anything. Then you can watch Family Guy and marvel how much it sucks in comparison to The Simpsons. While constantly ripping it off, because it has no original ideas. And don't get me started on their habit of referencing something without any sense of parody or humor. It's just, hey, remember this? Tapping into the nostalgia of hipsters is not comedy."
He somehow manages to look impressed and distressed. "This is why I need your aforementioned nerdish insight. You bring a knowledge that internet searching cannot yield."
She shrugs. "That opinion is all over the internet."
"Perhaps. But you're easier to navigate than the results of a Google search. And I trust you."
She allows herself a brief smile. "Fine, I'll watch TV on DVD with you. But you're not going to Fox."
"I might."
"You're not." She picks up the set that's shaped like Marge's head. "But you are watching the one where Homer gets really fat to scam disability."
"This Homer sounds like an awful man."
"But Rupert Murdoch is okay with you?"
*
Lovers
*
She wakes up to the sight of several Simpsons characters waving to her from the TV. Watching the DVD menu play out in a continuous loop, she slowly realizes her head is resting on Jack's chest. His body shifts, but she doesn't really move, save for lifting her head up to look at him.
Eyes half-open, he asks, "Were you sleeping on me?"
"Yes. Yes, I was."
"I suppose I should have you driven home."
Liz doesn't respond to that as she pulls herself up until her face is almost level with his. She's straddling his leg and her hands are on his shoulders and she... doesn't know what she's doing this for. "You can't go to Fox."
"I see no reason why that would be so."
"Were you even offered a job at Fox?" Though it's probably not right to accuse a guy of lying while still kind of curled up against him, Liz stays where she is. "Or did you just want me to not want you to go?"
"I told you I expect to be offered a job. And, no, it's not a lie. I'm not nearly as devious as you apparently suspect me to be."
"I bet you're plenty devious." This should also be said at a distance, but she finds herself moving closer to him. She's looking directly into his eyes as she cups his face and adds, "That's how you play poker, right?"
"I'm not lying." He pauses. "May I ask what's going on here?"
"You can't go to Fox. Don't go to Fox."
He stares at her as her thumb draws circles on his cheek. "Are you on drugs, Lemon?"
She visibly scoffs. "Don't be weird."
"I'm the one behaving oddly at this moment?"
When her lips brush over his, Liz finally understands what the hell she's doing. Jack hesitates for a moment, pulling back slightly before he kisses her. Then she's loosening the knot on his tie, he's pulling her shirt over her head, she's undoing his belt, and he's pushing inside her.
Well, there are several steps between them starting to undress each and the sex, so it doesn't happen that quickly. But it feels like it happens that quickly; like they're moving at an accelerated pace, and all the time, Ned Flanders is watching them.
And, you know, having sex with her boss on his couch while cartoon characters smile isn't the strangest sexual experience she's ever had.
But it is the hardest to explain.
*
Breakfast
*
"So... we had sex?"
"I know I wasn't at my best last night, but I'd like to think what happened was recognizably intercourse." He pauses. "I was half-awake. I certainly wasn't expecting--"
"You don't have to defend yourself. I meant that more as a surprised comment. We had sex. You and I had sex."
"Yes."
"I guess we can't go back."
"Excuse me?"
"You know. We can't stay just friends," Liz says. "We have to start dating again."
"Sex shouldn't obligate you to continue something you don't wish to continue," Jack says. He hands her a cup of coffee. "We can just be friends who have sex."
Liz grimaces. "I'm not going to be your sex friend."
"Friends who've had sex, then."
"I don't want to do that, either."
"So you actually do want to pick up where we left off?"
Liz hesitates. "Isn't that the only option?"
Jack frowns at her. He opens his mouth, then closes it. After a few moments: "Lemon, we don't have to enter into a relationship on those grounds. I'm sure we could remain civil, even friendly, regardless of our impulsive sexual encounter. Sure, I have had trouble maintaining such tranquil relationships with other sexual partners, but, surprisingly, you are one of the more stable women I've found myself entangled with."
"Thanks?"
"That was most certainly a compliment. You shouldn't be so questioning."
"Look, Jack..." She sighs. "I think I actually want this."
He stares blankly at her. "I can tell from your enthusiasm."
"I'm sorry." She takes another breath. "I just really didn't know what I wanted, but then I thought you could be leaving me for stupid Fox jerks, and I had sex with you. That has to mean I want to give us a try."
It makes sense to her. Jack seems to accept it, too.
"So, we shall try this again." He nods. "Good."
"Yes. Good. So... Were you really thinking of going to Fox, or did you just want me to tell you not to go?"
"I wasn't lying; Fox was a possibility." He pauses. "But I'll admit that I did hope you'd care."
*
Spirit
*
"I had sex with Jack."
Jenna beams. "Jack? Jack Donaghy?"
Liz nods. "One and the same."
"Oh my God, Liz! How was it?"
"It was okay."
She deflates like a young child who's just been told Santa doesn't exist. "Okay?"
"He says it'll get better."
"Oh my God, Liz!" she exclaims, returning to her initial excitement. "You're dating Jack."
"Again."
"Again?"
"Oh, right. I didn't tell you."
Her face falls again. "You've already gone out with Jack and didn't tell me?"
"I didn't know what we were doing, so I didn't want other people to know about it. Actually, I still don't know what we're doing, but now that we're doing more than making out, I feel like I should start talking about it."
Jenna is once more delighted. (Liz hopes she doesn't say anything to change Jenna's mood again, as Liz is getting exhausted just watching her.) "You're right, you should. And go into as much detail as possible."
"Um. Okay. But first you have to promise that, if Jack and I are still dating when the season starts, you won't tell anyone about it."
"My lips will be sealed, Liz, I can guarantee you that." She mimes locking her mouth with a key. Her smile suddenly disappears. "You and Jack might break up?"
Liz sighs.
*
Solstice
*
It's surprisingly easy to go back to dating Jack. Maybe because she doesn't have to spend the day at work and get all neurotic about their clandestine affair. Also, sex is out of the way. (Though he's very eager to prove that he's better than the first time might have implied.) So. It's actually fairly uncomplicated. She can't help but wonder if this is going to be the high point of their relationship.
Then they have sex again, and she has to wonder if that'll be the high point of their relationship.
Man. That's a weird thing to think about sex. Though this does result in having a conversation that Jenna can be all smiles about.
"I think your high points have just begun," Jenna gushes. "Especially when you get married. He already lets you use his credit cards, so just imagine how much you'll get to spend when you're his wife."
"What? No. I'm not getting married. I just started seeing him. Again. Whatever, point is, I'm not getting married to Jack."
"Oh, he'll propose to you soon. He proposed to the bird bone lady really quickly and she was much weirder than you are."
"Well, thanks. But trust me," Liz says, "Jack is not going to propose to me."
*
Dark
*
"Don't propose to me."
She says this to him in bed, after the light's been turned off. Because if this is a crazy thing to say, she doesn't want his face to tell her how crazy.
"Do you mean in the future? Or just not before we go to sleep?"
She can't tell if he's mocking her or not, but she decides to answer him sincerely. "I mean, not in the next few months. At least. I know you might get in one of your weird moods and think, 'Oh, I want to marry Liz, let me go ask her.' But just work through it."
"May I ask what prompted you to say this?"
"Jenna's already thinking about us getting married. But I'm not thinking about us getting married, which is what counts."
"Very well. I will not propose to you."
"Thanks." She pauses. "Don't propose to anyone else, either."
"I don't have anyone else to propose to."
"Okay, good. I assumed that would be the case, but. Yeah. Good."
*
Queen
*
One day, he suggests sending her to a spa for a few hours. ("If there's anyone who deserves to be wrapped up in seaweed and buried in mud, it's me," she says, and since she's been making him watch those Simpsons DVDs he bought, he gets the reference.) He says that it will relax her.
"And a day of rest will do you good."
"I've been on vacation for five weeks," she points out.
"Yes, but you're still living in the most stressful city in America."
"Really?"
He shrugs. "Possibly. It's not out of the question that New York City would hold such a title. Every day is hustle and bustle regardless of whether or not you have anywhere to go. Plus, you've entered into a new relationship recently. That can be quite a change."
"That sounds weird."
"What?"
"You're talking about something we're doing as if I'm the only one doing it."
"Well," he says, "you are the only relevant person at the moment, as you're the one who'll be at the spa."
She tilts her head, peering at him curiously. "Is there something behind this?"
"I can't imagine what could be behind it. I just want to do something nice for you."
"Really?"
"Really."
Okay, she accepts this. But: "I think I'd relax more just spending the day at the movies. Let's go see if Robert Downey Jr. makes a sucky Iron Man."
He smiles slightly. "Very well."
*
Storm
*
On the fourth of July, he doesn't want to see any fireworks. ("Such things bring my mind right back to the moment of failure," he'd said the week before. In an instant, a dog who looked a bit like one of the stars of Law, Love, and Lassies passed by them on the sidewalk. His expression turned grave. "Yes. Right back in the moment.") This is perfectly fine with her, as there's a storm front passing over the tri-state area and she hates getting soaked while waiting to see something she doesn't really care about. (She has a surprising amount of stories that fit that basic description, and they mostly involve Jenna.) So they stay inside with the TV off and curtains closed. There's music and candles and it's kind of weird being romantic with Jack, but it's weird in a nice way.
Kind of like Jack himself.
*
Triangle
*
Spotting Jack's ex-girlfriend in a theater lobby is so much weirder than that time she and Dennis ran into one of his exes. Because, you know, Dennis's ex-girlfriend wasn't Condi Rice.
"Oh God, she's looking at us," Liz says. "Why won't the stupid lights blink? Intermissions blow."
Jack frowns at her. "I really think you should calm down."
"Yeah, I think so, too." She tries to unfurrow her brow, but that part of her face just won't budge. "But you dated Condi Rice, I'm dating you, and now she's looking at me. You have no idea how crazy this is for me."
"I do, actually," he says. "I've been in plenty of such awkward situations before. You don't want to get Martha Stewart and Maureen Dowd in the same room." He makes a few motions with his hands that she doesn't quite comprehend, but which kind of look like a boulder falling onto a rabbit. "Less said about that incident, the better."
As Jack says this, Liz sees Condi Rice walking toward them. She kind of feels like this should be a hallucination or a dream, but she knows it's not.
Damn it.
Jack and Condi exchange pleasantries. Liz stands so she's kind of behind Jack, but not so much that it would seem like hiding. She makes a true attempt to unfurrow her brow, and she thinks she succeeds by the time Jack gestures to her.
"I don't believe you two have met," he says. "Liz, this is Condoleezza, as I'm sure you know. And Condi, this is my girlfriend, Liz Lemon."
It's so weird to hear Jack use the word girlfriend in reference to her and not have it be part of a scheme. But that's now one of the phrases that could describe her: Jack Donaghy's girlfriend. She really doesn't mind it. As she and Condi shake hands, the lights start to blink.
Thankfully, Liz only thinks, Oh, thank God, instead of uttering the words aloud.
*
King
*
"I have been considering telling my mother about our relationship."
Jack says this with no prompting and in the middle of her mocking Larry King, which ruins the awesome joke she was about to make regarding his suspenders. Okay, it wasn't really awesome, but. Anyway.
"Yeah?"
"Yes," Jack asserts. "But then I'd have to call her. And such news might please her, which I think would be rather disconcerting for me."
"She does love my baby bucket." She grimaces. "That sounds kind of gross, saying it that way."
"It certainly does."
"So, do you think you will?"
He thinks this over for a moment. "Perhaps you should call her."
"I'm not calling your mother. That would be weird."
"And if I call her--"
"Yeah, you're right. That's a bad idea. Maybe you should send a carrier pigeon."
Jack looks like he's seriously considering this. "Carrier pigeons have yet to do wrong by me."
"I was kidding."
"Joke or no, a good suggestion is a good suggestion."
"Okay. Inform your mother by carrier pigeon."
"I shall." He nods firmly. "I shall."
*
Shapes
*
In the last week of August, Jack takes her to the Hamptons. After a couple of days, Liz says, "I used to think the Hamptons was full of pretentious jerks. Now I know the Hamptons is full of pretentious jerks."
"You're not going to make any attempts to shake up the establishment, are you? Playing your hip-hop music at gatherings and pointing out people's flaws? Because, trust me, such things do not work in real life; you're the only one who'd feel embarrassed."
"Though that does sound awesome, I have no plans to shake things up. Though I do think these squares could use a little circle."
"Excuse me?"
She shakes her head. "Yeah, I don't know. Never mind."
"So, are you having an unpleasant time?" he asks.
"No. I'm having a good time. I'm just not crazy about some of the people. But it's okay, because I'm pretty sure a lot of them don't like me, either."
"I do not mean this as an insult, but you're probably correct in that assumption."
"Well, at least I'm right." She leans back in her chair. "Hey, did P. Diddy have his White Party yet?" She pauses. "I ask because that's the one thing I'm sure happens in the Hamptons. Also, I want to go and see if they really check my underwear. As gross and uncomfortable as it would make me feel if they did."
"No," Jack says, "he did not have his White Party yet. But I'd prefer not to attend. I have issues with monochromatic outfits being forced upon people. Also, we've dated a few of the same women, which has led to some... unpleasantness."
Liz narrows her eyes and smirks a little. "Did you date Jennifer Lopez?"
"Briefly," he says. "Does that bother you?"
"Was it before Gigli?"
"Yes."
"Are you still dating her?"
"Of course not."
"Then, no," she asserts, "it does not bother me."
"If only Mr. Combs were as reasonable as you." He sighs. "If only."
*
Water
*
Near the end of her vacation, it's pretty obvious that she and Jack are not going to break up. She makes Jenna repromise not to tell anyone, then decides that she should finally let Pete know. So, over lunch at an outdoor café, she begins, "You know how I've been dating someone, but haven't told you who? And how I insisted my secrecy wasn't about me making him up because I haven't done that since 1998?"
"Yes. Though I never did accuse you of making this boyfriend up," Pete replies. "Which, I'm going to admit, made your defensiveness a little suspicious."
"I understand that reaction. But he is a real guy. A guy who does not live in my brain. Or Canada. He is a guy named Jack. Jack Donaghy."
Pete spits out his water, narrowly missing the shoe of a passing woman. "I have never done an unrehearsed spit-take. That was actually kind of fun."
"Was that reaction really necessary?"
"I didn't plan it," he frowns. "In addition to not rehearsing it." He hesitates. "I just never thought you'd date our boss. It's... a little weird."
"I know, isn't it?" She can feel her face scrunch up in sympathy with Pete's confusion. "But..." She takes a breath. "I really like him."
Pete nods. "Well... He's not as bad as some of your other boyfriends. But he's also scarier."
"He's not scary," she says. "You have to stop being afraid that he's going to fire you. Especially now that he and I are together." She frowns. "That sounded kind of gross, so I want to stress that I'm not sleeping with him to get any perks or special treatment. And I do not, at any point in the future, intend to use my relationship to get any perks or special treatment or a larger budget for the show. So don't even ask me."
He shakes his head in faux disappointment. "You and your morals."
*
Sixth Sense
*
On her first day back at work, her initial act of business is to meet with Jack. It's not as strange as she would've thought, treating her boyfriend as her boss... probably because their relationship was never a typical boss/employee one. Afterward, Jack takes the elevator down with her to welcome back the staff, and as they get close to the writers' room, she notices that his hand is on the small of her back. She stops, turns to him.
"Don't touch me like that. People will know... things."
"I've touched you like this before," he counters.
"Yeah, but... it's different."
"To you, yes. But none of these people has the perceptive nature necessary to pick up on subtle shifts in how we treat each other." He peeks in. "And now they're preoccupied with... whatever they're doing."
"It's a combination of table tennis and hacky sack. I mean, basically."
He's silent as he continues to watch them hit the tiny ball around the office. It bounces off the peak of Frank's trucker hat, and Lutz declares, "That's a million points! I win."
Jack frowns. "How does that make sense?"
"It really doesn't. You're still touching me."
"It would be more noticeable if I stopped touching you, but if you insist, I'll move my hand away." He returns his attention to the game. "I think I could master this."
"Don't get involved. Really."
She enters the room with Jack following her. He welcomes them back to work. And Liz says to her staff, "So why aren't you working?"
Lutz puts the ping-pong ball in his pocket. He looks a little scared. "I've got an idea for a sketch about a crime-fighting bum--"
"That's the same thing as your crime-fighting hobo sketch."
"Not really. There's more to it. Layers."
"Sure."
Liz goes into her office, and when she emerges some fifteen minutes later, Jack and her writers are deeply immersed in a round of Pong-A-Sack.
"Dudes, seriously?"
"We need you to pitch to," Frank says. "Also, Jack ordered us to show him how to play."
"I requested," Jack says. "And I think I'm getting the hang--"
"Out, Jack--"
"A few more minutes won't hurt--"
Liz ends up pushing him all the way to the elevator while he waxes rhapsodic about this glorious new game. "Exhilarating," he calls it.
"No, it's not. It's really, really stupid."
"There's no harm in finding joy in the trivial, Lemon." One of her hands is still on his back as she pushes the button for the elevator. "This type of touching is allowed?"
"This is unsuspicious, annoyed touching. But you're probably right that not touching would be weirder."
She tries to ignore his I-knew-I-was-right face; since he moves back to boyish excitement in a matter of moments, this is fairly easy. "I have to say, Lemon, it was--"
"Exhilarating, I know." She sighs. "Come back after lunch. And stay for ten minutes."
"One hour from now. And twenty minutes."
"I'm not going to negotiate with you. You've already enjoyed yourself way too much."
"Such a thing," he says as he steps onto the elevator, "is not possible."
After the elevator closes, she allows herself a smile.
*
Return
*
"My mother is here," Jack says, leaning his weight against Liz's door. "She flew out as soon as she got the carrier pigeon." Voice full of anguish, he mutters, "God, Lemon! Why did you tell me to do that?"
"I was kidding! I assumed you were, too," Liz says. "Wow, I can't believe you really sent out a carrier pigeon. I didn't even think carrier pigeons still, you know, carried things."
"You just have to know where to look," he says. "And who to pay. And for the record, I never joke about carrier pigeons. They're the only type of pigeons one can trust." He takes a deep breath. "We have to go to dinner with her. You can't say even think of trying to refuse the invitation this time."
"I know." She crosses to him, puts an arm around him. "I think I need to tell you to calm down now."
"You do."
She rests her hand on his chest to make sure his heart isn't beating too quickly. "At least you don't have to convince her to like me."
"It will be nice to take that form of attack away from her."
So they go out to dinner together. Jack doesn't clutch his chest once. A couple of days later, Colleen Donaghy's on a plane home.
"See?" Liz says. "You worried for nothing."
"I hardly think so." He nods. "But taking one form of attack away from her was rather advantageous."
"Well... I'm glad to be likeable to your mother."
"It is a plus for both of us." He shakes his head. "One thing I can say for sure, I'm never using another carrier pigeon. They're just as bad as their non-carrying siblings. Perhaps even worse. I never would've imagined such a thing to be possible."
For some reason, she really wants to kiss him. So, she does.
*
Spring
*
It's not an extremely dignified thing to choke in front of somebody, but it's better than dying. So when Jack's use of the Heimlich maneuver causes the Dorito to fly from her mouth, she's more relieved than mortified. She coughs a few times, manages to say, "I've always wanted someone to save me from choking. Or at least find my body."
"Thankfully," he says as he rubs her back, "it did not have to come to anyone discovering a corpse. And, Liz, I don't want it to seem like I'm blaming you, but I think you should eat less jagged snacks from now on. If you must have snacks." With a bit more anger, he adds, "Triangle chips are nothing but a menace."
"You know, you're right." She takes another couple of breaths, turns her head to look at him. Intending to thank him, she instead blurts out, "I love you. I really love you. Really. A lot."
"Are you saying this because I saved your life or because you're truly in love with me?"
"Both," she says. "I'd kiss you if my mouth didn't taste like death."
He kisses her forehead. "I love you, too." He sighs. "I should have warned you away from triangle chips sooner."
"I wouldn't have listened. You have to go through something like this before the allure is gone."
He nods. "Yes. That is, sadly, very true."
*
Sight
*
For Halloween, she does not dress up like Princess Leia. (Though she really wishes she could.) She doesn't dress up like anyone, actually, but she does dress up.
"This is totally lame, you know," she complains from the bathroom. "Having one of these tux and gown parties on Halloween. It's robbing people of the ability to wear actually awesome outfits. None of these people will get to wear a SpongeBob costume tonight."
"The people who go to such events don't wish to dress like SpongeBob," Jack replies from the other side of the door.
"See, that's sad."
"I suppose you have a point."
Liz scrunches up her face at her reflection. "I do?"
"Some of these people have no imagination, no spark, no burning need to have any sort of fun. When you lose all desire to dress like a cartoon character, you lose a part of yourself."
She looks down at her dress again, smoothing a hand over her stomach. "I'm totally making you dress up like Bugs Bunny next year."
"Why wait until then?" he says, voice vaguely flirtatious.
"Wait, are you proposing some sort of weird sex game?"
A moment of silence. "I'm not entirely sure. But I don't feel right about saying it, so I suppose that might have been what I was implying. Pretend I never said it."
"Done and done."
She checks her lipstick one last time, then opens the door. He's leaning against the wall, but stands up straight when he sees her. His eyes travel over the whole of her, then, "You look incredible."
"Thank you. But I totally look better as Princess Leia. You can see me in my costume anytime you like." She pauses. "I think I might have been implying a sex game, too."
He smiles. "Though yours does sound somewhat stimulating."
"Oh yeah? So when I made you watch Return of the Jedi, you must have enjoyed it way more than I thought."
"Never underestimate the power of a woman in a metal bikini."
"Huh. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. There are websites devoted to that metal bikini. Which is not my costume, by the way, so don't get too excited."
"I will make a mental note to keep my excitement in check." He pauses. "Could you get a metal bikini?"
"Really?" she says, though she knows he's serious. "I can't believe you're into geeky roleplaying."
"I'm intrigued by it," he clarifies. "You don't know how you'll like something until you try it." He holds out his arm. "Shall we go?"
She takes it. "Yeah. Let's."
*
Thanksgiving
*
When they wake up on Thanksgiving morning, Jack and Liz realize they have nothing to do.
"Thanksgiving," he says, "is traditionally a time for families to be together."
"You want to call your siblings?" she asks.
"Dear God, no. Saying something is traditional certainly doesn't mean I wish to do it. Do you want to go out?"
"Not really. Maybe we could stay in bed." He stares at her. She raises her eyebrows. "Wink wink, nudge nudge."
"I must say, I didn't think you were the type of woman who'd want to wile away the day in such a fashion."
She doesn't say that she wasn't that type, probably wouldn't be that type if she weren't sleeping with him, because he might get all smug and ruin the vibe. "Well, there's a lot you don't know about me."
He starts to unbutton her pajama top. "Really?"
"Probably not," she admits. "But there has to be a few things left."
He kisses her neck. "You should tell me them. Later, of course."
"Of course," she affirms as his mouth moves lower.
*
Snow
*
It starts to snow during Tracy's after-after-after-after-after-party, which happens to be occurring in a park in Central New Jersey. Her hands are cold, she really has to pee, and she's thinking she might take a break from all-night partying. (This is the first time she's done something like this in over a year, but still. Once a year is enough.) She takes a train back into the city, and it's still snowing when she makes it to her apartment.
"Don't let me go the bathroom on a New Jersey Transit train again," she tells Jack over the phone. She's curled up on her bed, still in her clothes from last night. "It's not nice and the locks on the doors don't really work."
"I will do my best to dissuade you." He pauses. "Did you just get home?"
"Yes. I think Tracy's still at it, though. Taking a spaceship to Italy. Wait, that doesn't sound right. I'm tired. I'm going to sleep. I just wanted you to know I'm not taking a spaceship to Italy with Tracy."
"I'm glad to hear it," he says. "Good morning, Lemon."
"Good morning, Jack," she says before she hangs up the phone and closes her eyes.
*
Christmas
*
Christmas is the time when you're supposed to be jolly, and this year, she has reasons to embrace the spirit of the season. Because she's in love, her show is doing increasingly better in the ratings, and Tracy hasn't ranted about a blue man tormenting him for months.
This'll be a nice Christmas.
Jack enters her office just as she's having these thoughts, so she's overly enthusiastic as she moves toward him. Fingers interlaced at the back of his neck, she smiles up at him.
"You're cheerful," he says, mirroring her smile.
"You're right. I am completely cheerful. And, you know what? I think I see some mistletoe."
He looks above his head. "I don't. And for the record, I don't approve of mistletoe. There's something about forcing people to kiss each other in the name of Christmas that seems... unsavory."
"Look, I was just trying to be playful. I guess it would've worked better if I had mistletoe and you didn't have your weird objections."
"There's nothing odd about my objections."
"There kind of is. You have a lot of weird objections."
"I do not."
"I mean, it's not like you have to kiss me. I just felt like kissing you, but you have to be all weird--"
Then his mouth is on hers. She smiles against his kiss and parts her lips as his arms wrap around her.
Sometime during kiss number four, the door opens.
Liz jumps away from Jack and looks at Frank, who seems to be in the grey area between curious and unconcerned.
"Hey," Frank says.
"Hi," Liz says. "We were just... comparing heights. What did we figure, Jack? You're about 5'11"?"
Jack awkwardly nods. "That is the approximate figure."
"Well, merry Christmas, Jack."
"Merry Christmas to you, too, Liz, who we have determined is shorter than I am."
Frank continues to stare at them. "Do I have to pretend to believe the lie before I get to leave?"
She sighs. "Just go, Frank."
Frank closes the door.
Jack turns back to her. "That was a horrible lie."
"I know," Liz admits. "But I couldn't come up with anything else. Height comparison. Ugh, that makes no sense. You should've said something. You're a better liar."
"I'm afraid I froze. Something about his blank expression kept me from coming up with a reasonable explanation. Also, there aren't many reasonable explanations for what we were doing outside of the truth."
"True." She frowns. "Do you think he's telling everyone?"
"I don't think so. He doesn't have the spirit of a gossip."
Jack opens the door. Frank is standing at the head of the writers' table, arms outstretched.
"You won't believe what I just walked in on. Jack Donaghy is in Liz's office right now, and they're making babies." He adjusts his hat. "And get this: I saw one of the babies, and the baby looked at me."
Jack closes the door. "He's airing my personal business using the words of Ralph Wiggum." His visage turns somber. "This is unacceptable."
She takes a deep breath. "You know what? This is no big deal."
"You're right. This is not an adulterous affair. We're two consenting adults."
"And if worse comes to worse, we can always tell people you're a virgin."
Jack waves a hand dismissively. "No one would believe that."
"Yeah, you're right."
"Perhaps we can say that you're a virgin."
She punches him on the arm. But not too hard; this is Christmastime.
*
New Year
*
For the days that stretch between Frank's non-gay outing of Jack and Liz and the start of the winter break for the TGS staff, things aren't as awkward as Liz would've imagined. Pete thinks it's because they're afraid of irking Jack; Jenna thinks it's because they couldn't possibly make fun of something as perfect as Jack and Liz's love.
Pete's probably right. No, Pete's definitely right. Jenna... well, Jenna probably needs a boyfriend, because she's totally romanticizing Liz's relationship way too much. Jenna has to get back to dating and be reminded of the fact that even a man you love can be kind of annoying and, thus, not perfect.
Like, for instance. They're at the third New Year's party of the evening. This is fine. She's dating a guy who bounces around the society circuit, that's what she's got to do. And he promised they'd end the evening at Jenna's party. (During which she's totally going to talk to her about that dating thing. This will be kind of weird, since it's always been the other way around.) Which she believes is going to happen, so. Great. But at the moment, he's disappeared into the crowd of strangers, and she's somehow been cornered by Tyra Banks, who keeps talking about how fierce everything is. And no matter what Liz says, Tyra makes it about herself. (When Liz introduced herself, Tyra told a story about how she accidentally bit into a lemon when she was eight, then somehow managed to segue into a narrative about her fear of dolphins. When Liz lamented that the war might last for another ten years, Tyra gave a rundown of the events that happened to her when she was ten years old, which also involved her fear of dolphins.)
Perfect dudes don't let their girlfriends go through this.
But then he does show up, pulling her away from Tyra without any explanation and leading her to the dance floor.
"Where were you?" Liz asks as he slides his arm around her. "You know she said fierce about thirty times? I'm not even kidding."
"I was mingling," he explains. "You could've just walked away from her yourself."
"I couldn't, Jack. She might throw a phone at me."
"You're confusing her with Naomi Campbell."
"Oh," Liz says. "Okay, I sort of rescind my irritation. Sorry."
"You're hardly the first person to be in a bad mood after talking to a supermodel," he says.
After he dips her, she remembers they're supposed to be dancing, so she acts accordingly. With his arms around her, she lets herself relax. Thinks that neither of them, nor their relationship, is perfect. But, you know. It's pretty good.
*
Pink
*
When Liz puts on the metal bikini, her cheeks turn pink at the ridiculousness of it. After quickly changing back into her normal attire, she leaves the bathroom and joins Jack on the couch. He passes her a plate with a piece of pizza on it and lets his hand rest on her leg. She looks over at him, thinks how lame it would be to spend money on that thing and not tell him, but. Well. She is not meant to wear Princess Leia slave girl clothes.
But she should tell him. Just for fun.
She quickly scarfs down the pizza in an attempt to gain some solid courage, and during the next commercial break, she says, "I actually bought that metal bikini."
He looks over at her. "Really?"
"Yeah. I was going to get it for Christmas, but I kept chickening out. And there's something gross about getting something like that as a present. It's like I'm gifting you sex, and. That's too hookery for me. But, anyway. It just came in the mail, and I was going to wear it out here, but I felt too weird. Thought I might look ridiculous. And I wasn't sure if you were still interested in that whole... thing."
His hand moves higher up on her thigh. "I am still intrigued by this concept, yes."
"Oh." The way he's looking at her is already making the prospect of putting the costume back on surprisingly appealing. "I got a Han Solo costume for you."
"That only seems fair."
"That's what I thought."
For the record, it turns out he does enjoy geeky roleplaying.
Liz actually likes it quite a bit, too.
*
Sunset
*
The weekend after Valentine's Day, he takes her to Paris. Everything about the city seems romantic -- she thinks it might even be more magical than Cleveland -- and the view from their room is the sort of thing one should see on a postcard. (Actually, she's pretty sure that Jack did once send her a postcard that looked like this. But, anyway.) It's... suspiciously good. Like he's planning something.
And at sunset, when he takes her out onto the balcony and pulls her close, kissing her like he means it -- even more than he usually does -- she can't help but think this is more than just a vacation. Without the cover of darkness to mask whatever perplexed reaction he might have, she says:
"Don't propose to me. I'm pretty sure that I'm still not ready for that."
He frowns at her. "You're not getting any younger."
"Oh yeah," Liz scoffs. "And you're aging backwards."
"If Leo's research is successful, perhaps I will be. Perhaps I will be." He stares into space for a moment, then looks back to her. "And, Liz... I'll wait."
"Wait?"
"For you to be ready."
"So you do want to marry me?"
"I thought that was obvious."
Liz takes his hand in hers. She's pretty sure she'll be ready sooner rather than later.
END
For: drabbles100
Prompts (in order of appearance): 97. Writer's Choice (Arbor Day), 083. Lost, 054. Air, 057. Lunch, 026. Teammates, 023. Lovers, 056. Breakfast, 055. Spirit, 094. Solstice, 074. Dark, 049. Queen, 070. Storm, 042. Triangle, 046. King, 041. Shapes, 051. Water, 035. Sixth Sense, 099. Writer's Choice (Return), 062. Spring, 040. Sight, 093. Thanksgiving, 067. Snow, 092. Christmas, 095. New Year, 019. Pink, 032. Sunset
Fandom: 30 Rock
Pairing: Jack/Liz
Word Count: 350 + 296 + 185 + 285 + 500 + 415 + 356 + 220 + 215 + 170 + 240 + 148 + 330 + 181 + 330 + 325 + 500 + 311 + 233 + 430 + 180 + 202 + 500 + 450 + 285 + 225 = 7,862
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: S1
Author's Notes: Table is here.
Summary: From Arbor Day to Valentine's, things shift between Jack and Liz.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue.
*
Arbor Day
*
"So, Lemon," Jack begins, "how shall you be spending your Arbor Day?"
Liz shrugs. "I don't know. When is it?"
"Today."
"Well, I guess I'll be spending it by working."
"Really? No Arbor Day parties to attend later in the evening?"
She pauses, confusion spreading over her face. "Is Arbor Day something you normally celebrate?"
"Is that so strange? I suppose this means you don't want a slice of my tree-shaped cake."
"Hey, I said nothing about not wanting cake." There's another silence, then, "It doesn't taste like bark, does it?"
"No, it does not. I'm not even sure that's possible. And if it's not, I highly doubt such a flavor is currently being developed."
Liz nods. "Yeah, you're probably right."
"To get back to my original question: are you really not doing anything tonight?"
She groans. "Dude, I'll plant a tree next year. Just get off my back."
"I suppose I need to be more direct. What I'm asking you is: would you like to have dinner with me this evening?"
"Oh. You're asking me out on a date?"
"Yes."
Her smile is one of realization. "Is that why you didn't tell me not to eat too much of this tree cake? Because you're trying to woo me?"
"Perhaps Arbor Day just inspires feelings of generosity in me. But, yes, that is why I didn't try to limit your hypothetical cake." He pauses. "While I'm being honest, I should admit that I don't normally celebrate Arbor Day. I thought it was something you'd be interested in. And I was certain about your love for cake, so I naturally commissioned the tree cake."
"Yeah," Liz says. "There's no way to go but a tree cake."
Jack frowns at her. "I suppose I should take your mockery as a refusal of my invitation."
"No, don't take it that way. I'm just not sure how to react to you wooing me with cake."
"Cake was just an element of the plan, not the whole of it. So, would you like to have dinner with me?"
"Um. Yeah. Fine."
*
Lost
*
The date is not bad, but Liz is determined not to have any more of them. Because, really, how can she date Jack? He's her friend and her boss and he can be so annoying.
He's not really annoying during the date. That annoys her a little.
At the end of the evening, he walks her to her door.
"You're not coming in." She says this too loudly, and he just stares at her. "I mean... I don't think we should rush into anything. Because you're my boss. And my friend." She doesn't even come close to mentioning the thing about him being annoying. Since she's pretty nervous, she's proud of herself for not letting that slip. "So. We should take it slow."
"I understand completely."
Then she's pressed against the door, his mouth on hers. She lets out a gasp against his lips, but the surprise quickly turns to acceptance, even sooner turns to her kissing him back. After he pulls away, she tries to tell him that she's still not going to let him in, but she's too dazed to talk.
"Goodnight, Lemon."
She finds herself staring at his mouth. "Um. Goodnight, Jack."
He takes a step, then turns back to her. "Are you free on Saturday?"
"Me? Uh, I am. Yes. Let's do something."
Well. There goes her whole 'not having another date with Jack' thing. Her brain is kind of a jerk.
"Yes, we'll make plans." His fingers brush over the length on her arm. "I'll see you tomorrow, Lemon."
"I'll see you tomorrow as well."
As she watches him walk down the hall, there are a million questions swimming around in her head, followed by multi-part answers in essay form. One thing's for sure: she has no idea what they're doing.
*
Air
*
After a couple more dates, she lets him in. But not, she repeats, not for sex. Just to talk.
The extended kissing session is entirely an accident.
And it's not unpleasant.
Which is to say that she enjoys it more than she would've expected, even with that pretty great first kiss. Because this is really great. That fact makes it hard for her to stop kissing him, even though she's telling herself that she can't, repeat, can't let it go too far. She has to, you know, understand what they're doing before he sees her naked.
It's the sensible thing to do.
So when one of his hands starts to move from a neutral area of her body to her chest, she chooses this time to pull away and take a breath.
"Okay," she says. "That was nice. Go home."
"That was... rather sudden."
"Well, it just occurred to me that I might have sex with you tonight, and it's too soon. So. I think we should call it a night."
"Very well. Just..." He pauses. "...give me a moment."
"Um... No offense, but ew."
*
Lunch
*
By the time TGS's season is over, Jack and Liz have been on seven official dates. Date number eight is lunch the Monday after Liz's vacation starts.
It's kind of weird to not have work to talk about, but they manage by discussing the future of their relationship.
Man, she misses talking about work.
Because talking about their relationship involves discussing the sex they haven't had; whether or not she wants to be the chick who's dating the boss; if they should use the summer as a trial run for their relationship. After all, no one has to know about any possible romantic failure if it occurs during vacation. But she and Jack would know, which would make stuff awkward. However, the most pressing problem for Liz at the moment is the fact that the people at the next table are listening to them.
"They're not even being discreet! Yeah, pretend not to hear that."
Jack clears his throat. "I assume you're trying to avoid talking about this by making a scene."
Liz frowns. "Not consciously. And I don't think I was making a scene. I just don't like people being jerks. Yeah, I called you two jerks." Starting to feel embarrassed for herself, she says, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to freak out."
"I think you're, as you say, freaking out because this isn't what you want."
Liz doesn't know if that's true, so she doesn't dispute it. "Yeah. We should just be friends. Friends who've made out a few times."
One of the women at the next table says (in a bad impersonation of Jack), "Those are the best kind of friends, Lemon."
"See?" Liz says. "They were listening. Not cool."
*
Teammates
*
Jack calls her from time to time. Sometimes to 'pick her creative brain,' other times just to talk. One night, he invites her over to his place. When she enters, there are stacks of DVDs on the floor. "I need your help."
"Organizing your DVD collection? Not to brag, but I'm awesome at that."
Jack looks at her as if that's the saddest thing he's ever heard. "No. I went to lunch with Rupert Murdoch today, we have another lunch scheduled for later in the week, and I'm fairly sure he'll be offering me a job. So I had Jonathan purchase as many Fox shows on DVD as he could find. Should I start with 24 or Prison Break?"
Liz's face falls. "What? You can't go to Fox."
"Why not?"
Liz hesitates. "A lot of reasons." She pauses again, trying to think of something that doesn't make it sound like she's interested in him. "What about your microwaves? You just got them back. Really, Jack, did you think about your microwaves at all?"
"Of course, Lemon. Of course. But my time as NBC's Vice President of East Coast Television has been riddled with disasters. The fireworks in Midtown. Gold Case. That show I helped develop for those two dogs who could say 'I love you.'"
"Yeah, they weren't convincing as lawyers."
"This will be a fresh start. A chance to finally put Law, Love, and Lassies completely behind me."
"You can't go to Fox." Another pause. "I don't want to have to hold a wake for your soul."
"Rupert isn't a bad man. Just misunderstood."
"Yeah, sure. You're not going to Fox."
"I may be going, and I want to learn the intricacies of the programming before I do. I was flying blind during the beginning of my tenure at NBC, and this time, I want to take to the air with 20/20 vision. And you can introduce me to these shows with your keen, nerdish insight."
"I'm not helping you please Rupert Murdoch."
"You'd be helping me. Does it matter to what end?"
"Yeah. That was my point."
Jack holds up a season of Family Guy. "Should I start with this?"
"Ugh. No." She grabs it from his hand. "Watch a season of The Simpsons, if anything. Then you can watch Family Guy and marvel how much it sucks in comparison to The Simpsons. While constantly ripping it off, because it has no original ideas. And don't get me started on their habit of referencing something without any sense of parody or humor. It's just, hey, remember this? Tapping into the nostalgia of hipsters is not comedy."
He somehow manages to look impressed and distressed. "This is why I need your aforementioned nerdish insight. You bring a knowledge that internet searching cannot yield."
She shrugs. "That opinion is all over the internet."
"Perhaps. But you're easier to navigate than the results of a Google search. And I trust you."
She allows herself a brief smile. "Fine, I'll watch TV on DVD with you. But you're not going to Fox."
"I might."
"You're not." She picks up the set that's shaped like Marge's head. "But you are watching the one where Homer gets really fat to scam disability."
"This Homer sounds like an awful man."
"But Rupert Murdoch is okay with you?"
*
Lovers
*
She wakes up to the sight of several Simpsons characters waving to her from the TV. Watching the DVD menu play out in a continuous loop, she slowly realizes her head is resting on Jack's chest. His body shifts, but she doesn't really move, save for lifting her head up to look at him.
Eyes half-open, he asks, "Were you sleeping on me?"
"Yes. Yes, I was."
"I suppose I should have you driven home."
Liz doesn't respond to that as she pulls herself up until her face is almost level with his. She's straddling his leg and her hands are on his shoulders and she... doesn't know what she's doing this for. "You can't go to Fox."
"I see no reason why that would be so."
"Were you even offered a job at Fox?" Though it's probably not right to accuse a guy of lying while still kind of curled up against him, Liz stays where she is. "Or did you just want me to not want you to go?"
"I told you I expect to be offered a job. And, no, it's not a lie. I'm not nearly as devious as you apparently suspect me to be."
"I bet you're plenty devious." This should also be said at a distance, but she finds herself moving closer to him. She's looking directly into his eyes as she cups his face and adds, "That's how you play poker, right?"
"I'm not lying." He pauses. "May I ask what's going on here?"
"You can't go to Fox. Don't go to Fox."
He stares at her as her thumb draws circles on his cheek. "Are you on drugs, Lemon?"
She visibly scoffs. "Don't be weird."
"I'm the one behaving oddly at this moment?"
When her lips brush over his, Liz finally understands what the hell she's doing. Jack hesitates for a moment, pulling back slightly before he kisses her. Then she's loosening the knot on his tie, he's pulling her shirt over her head, she's undoing his belt, and he's pushing inside her.
Well, there are several steps between them starting to undress each and the sex, so it doesn't happen that quickly. But it feels like it happens that quickly; like they're moving at an accelerated pace, and all the time, Ned Flanders is watching them.
And, you know, having sex with her boss on his couch while cartoon characters smile isn't the strangest sexual experience she's ever had.
But it is the hardest to explain.
*
Breakfast
*
"So... we had sex?"
"I know I wasn't at my best last night, but I'd like to think what happened was recognizably intercourse." He pauses. "I was half-awake. I certainly wasn't expecting--"
"You don't have to defend yourself. I meant that more as a surprised comment. We had sex. You and I had sex."
"Yes."
"I guess we can't go back."
"Excuse me?"
"You know. We can't stay just friends," Liz says. "We have to start dating again."
"Sex shouldn't obligate you to continue something you don't wish to continue," Jack says. He hands her a cup of coffee. "We can just be friends who have sex."
Liz grimaces. "I'm not going to be your sex friend."
"Friends who've had sex, then."
"I don't want to do that, either."
"So you actually do want to pick up where we left off?"
Liz hesitates. "Isn't that the only option?"
Jack frowns at her. He opens his mouth, then closes it. After a few moments: "Lemon, we don't have to enter into a relationship on those grounds. I'm sure we could remain civil, even friendly, regardless of our impulsive sexual encounter. Sure, I have had trouble maintaining such tranquil relationships with other sexual partners, but, surprisingly, you are one of the more stable women I've found myself entangled with."
"Thanks?"
"That was most certainly a compliment. You shouldn't be so questioning."
"Look, Jack..." She sighs. "I think I actually want this."
He stares blankly at her. "I can tell from your enthusiasm."
"I'm sorry." She takes another breath. "I just really didn't know what I wanted, but then I thought you could be leaving me for stupid Fox jerks, and I had sex with you. That has to mean I want to give us a try."
It makes sense to her. Jack seems to accept it, too.
"So, we shall try this again." He nods. "Good."
"Yes. Good. So... Were you really thinking of going to Fox, or did you just want me to tell you not to go?"
"I wasn't lying; Fox was a possibility." He pauses. "But I'll admit that I did hope you'd care."
*
Spirit
*
"I had sex with Jack."
Jenna beams. "Jack? Jack Donaghy?"
Liz nods. "One and the same."
"Oh my God, Liz! How was it?"
"It was okay."
She deflates like a young child who's just been told Santa doesn't exist. "Okay?"
"He says it'll get better."
"Oh my God, Liz!" she exclaims, returning to her initial excitement. "You're dating Jack."
"Again."
"Again?"
"Oh, right. I didn't tell you."
Her face falls again. "You've already gone out with Jack and didn't tell me?"
"I didn't know what we were doing, so I didn't want other people to know about it. Actually, I still don't know what we're doing, but now that we're doing more than making out, I feel like I should start talking about it."
Jenna is once more delighted. (Liz hopes she doesn't say anything to change Jenna's mood again, as Liz is getting exhausted just watching her.) "You're right, you should. And go into as much detail as possible."
"Um. Okay. But first you have to promise that, if Jack and I are still dating when the season starts, you won't tell anyone about it."
"My lips will be sealed, Liz, I can guarantee you that." She mimes locking her mouth with a key. Her smile suddenly disappears. "You and Jack might break up?"
Liz sighs.
*
Solstice
*
It's surprisingly easy to go back to dating Jack. Maybe because she doesn't have to spend the day at work and get all neurotic about their clandestine affair. Also, sex is out of the way. (Though he's very eager to prove that he's better than the first time might have implied.) So. It's actually fairly uncomplicated. She can't help but wonder if this is going to be the high point of their relationship.
Then they have sex again, and she has to wonder if that'll be the high point of their relationship.
Man. That's a weird thing to think about sex. Though this does result in having a conversation that Jenna can be all smiles about.
"I think your high points have just begun," Jenna gushes. "Especially when you get married. He already lets you use his credit cards, so just imagine how much you'll get to spend when you're his wife."
"What? No. I'm not getting married. I just started seeing him. Again. Whatever, point is, I'm not getting married to Jack."
"Oh, he'll propose to you soon. He proposed to the bird bone lady really quickly and she was much weirder than you are."
"Well, thanks. But trust me," Liz says, "Jack is not going to propose to me."
*
Dark
*
"Don't propose to me."
She says this to him in bed, after the light's been turned off. Because if this is a crazy thing to say, she doesn't want his face to tell her how crazy.
"Do you mean in the future? Or just not before we go to sleep?"
She can't tell if he's mocking her or not, but she decides to answer him sincerely. "I mean, not in the next few months. At least. I know you might get in one of your weird moods and think, 'Oh, I want to marry Liz, let me go ask her.' But just work through it."
"May I ask what prompted you to say this?"
"Jenna's already thinking about us getting married. But I'm not thinking about us getting married, which is what counts."
"Very well. I will not propose to you."
"Thanks." She pauses. "Don't propose to anyone else, either."
"I don't have anyone else to propose to."
"Okay, good. I assumed that would be the case, but. Yeah. Good."
*
Queen
*
One day, he suggests sending her to a spa for a few hours. ("If there's anyone who deserves to be wrapped up in seaweed and buried in mud, it's me," she says, and since she's been making him watch those Simpsons DVDs he bought, he gets the reference.) He says that it will relax her.
"And a day of rest will do you good."
"I've been on vacation for five weeks," she points out.
"Yes, but you're still living in the most stressful city in America."
"Really?"
He shrugs. "Possibly. It's not out of the question that New York City would hold such a title. Every day is hustle and bustle regardless of whether or not you have anywhere to go. Plus, you've entered into a new relationship recently. That can be quite a change."
"That sounds weird."
"What?"
"You're talking about something we're doing as if I'm the only one doing it."
"Well," he says, "you are the only relevant person at the moment, as you're the one who'll be at the spa."
She tilts her head, peering at him curiously. "Is there something behind this?"
"I can't imagine what could be behind it. I just want to do something nice for you."
"Really?"
"Really."
Okay, she accepts this. But: "I think I'd relax more just spending the day at the movies. Let's go see if Robert Downey Jr. makes a sucky Iron Man."
He smiles slightly. "Very well."
*
Storm
*
On the fourth of July, he doesn't want to see any fireworks. ("Such things bring my mind right back to the moment of failure," he'd said the week before. In an instant, a dog who looked a bit like one of the stars of Law, Love, and Lassies passed by them on the sidewalk. His expression turned grave. "Yes. Right back in the moment.") This is perfectly fine with her, as there's a storm front passing over the tri-state area and she hates getting soaked while waiting to see something she doesn't really care about. (She has a surprising amount of stories that fit that basic description, and they mostly involve Jenna.) So they stay inside with the TV off and curtains closed. There's music and candles and it's kind of weird being romantic with Jack, but it's weird in a nice way.
Kind of like Jack himself.
*
Triangle
*
Spotting Jack's ex-girlfriend in a theater lobby is so much weirder than that time she and Dennis ran into one of his exes. Because, you know, Dennis's ex-girlfriend wasn't Condi Rice.
"Oh God, she's looking at us," Liz says. "Why won't the stupid lights blink? Intermissions blow."
Jack frowns at her. "I really think you should calm down."
"Yeah, I think so, too." She tries to unfurrow her brow, but that part of her face just won't budge. "But you dated Condi Rice, I'm dating you, and now she's looking at me. You have no idea how crazy this is for me."
"I do, actually," he says. "I've been in plenty of such awkward situations before. You don't want to get Martha Stewart and Maureen Dowd in the same room." He makes a few motions with his hands that she doesn't quite comprehend, but which kind of look like a boulder falling onto a rabbit. "Less said about that incident, the better."
As Jack says this, Liz sees Condi Rice walking toward them. She kind of feels like this should be a hallucination or a dream, but she knows it's not.
Damn it.
Jack and Condi exchange pleasantries. Liz stands so she's kind of behind Jack, but not so much that it would seem like hiding. She makes a true attempt to unfurrow her brow, and she thinks she succeeds by the time Jack gestures to her.
"I don't believe you two have met," he says. "Liz, this is Condoleezza, as I'm sure you know. And Condi, this is my girlfriend, Liz Lemon."
It's so weird to hear Jack use the word girlfriend in reference to her and not have it be part of a scheme. But that's now one of the phrases that could describe her: Jack Donaghy's girlfriend. She really doesn't mind it. As she and Condi shake hands, the lights start to blink.
Thankfully, Liz only thinks, Oh, thank God, instead of uttering the words aloud.
*
King
*
"I have been considering telling my mother about our relationship."
Jack says this with no prompting and in the middle of her mocking Larry King, which ruins the awesome joke she was about to make regarding his suspenders. Okay, it wasn't really awesome, but. Anyway.
"Yeah?"
"Yes," Jack asserts. "But then I'd have to call her. And such news might please her, which I think would be rather disconcerting for me."
"She does love my baby bucket." She grimaces. "That sounds kind of gross, saying it that way."
"It certainly does."
"So, do you think you will?"
He thinks this over for a moment. "Perhaps you should call her."
"I'm not calling your mother. That would be weird."
"And if I call her--"
"Yeah, you're right. That's a bad idea. Maybe you should send a carrier pigeon."
Jack looks like he's seriously considering this. "Carrier pigeons have yet to do wrong by me."
"I was kidding."
"Joke or no, a good suggestion is a good suggestion."
"Okay. Inform your mother by carrier pigeon."
"I shall." He nods firmly. "I shall."
*
Shapes
*
In the last week of August, Jack takes her to the Hamptons. After a couple of days, Liz says, "I used to think the Hamptons was full of pretentious jerks. Now I know the Hamptons is full of pretentious jerks."
"You're not going to make any attempts to shake up the establishment, are you? Playing your hip-hop music at gatherings and pointing out people's flaws? Because, trust me, such things do not work in real life; you're the only one who'd feel embarrassed."
"Though that does sound awesome, I have no plans to shake things up. Though I do think these squares could use a little circle."
"Excuse me?"
She shakes her head. "Yeah, I don't know. Never mind."
"So, are you having an unpleasant time?" he asks.
"No. I'm having a good time. I'm just not crazy about some of the people. But it's okay, because I'm pretty sure a lot of them don't like me, either."
"I do not mean this as an insult, but you're probably correct in that assumption."
"Well, at least I'm right." She leans back in her chair. "Hey, did P. Diddy have his White Party yet?" She pauses. "I ask because that's the one thing I'm sure happens in the Hamptons. Also, I want to go and see if they really check my underwear. As gross and uncomfortable as it would make me feel if they did."
"No," Jack says, "he did not have his White Party yet. But I'd prefer not to attend. I have issues with monochromatic outfits being forced upon people. Also, we've dated a few of the same women, which has led to some... unpleasantness."
Liz narrows her eyes and smirks a little. "Did you date Jennifer Lopez?"
"Briefly," he says. "Does that bother you?"
"Was it before Gigli?"
"Yes."
"Are you still dating her?"
"Of course not."
"Then, no," she asserts, "it does not bother me."
"If only Mr. Combs were as reasonable as you." He sighs. "If only."
*
Water
*
Near the end of her vacation, it's pretty obvious that she and Jack are not going to break up. She makes Jenna repromise not to tell anyone, then decides that she should finally let Pete know. So, over lunch at an outdoor café, she begins, "You know how I've been dating someone, but haven't told you who? And how I insisted my secrecy wasn't about me making him up because I haven't done that since 1998?"
"Yes. Though I never did accuse you of making this boyfriend up," Pete replies. "Which, I'm going to admit, made your defensiveness a little suspicious."
"I understand that reaction. But he is a real guy. A guy who does not live in my brain. Or Canada. He is a guy named Jack. Jack Donaghy."
Pete spits out his water, narrowly missing the shoe of a passing woman. "I have never done an unrehearsed spit-take. That was actually kind of fun."
"Was that reaction really necessary?"
"I didn't plan it," he frowns. "In addition to not rehearsing it." He hesitates. "I just never thought you'd date our boss. It's... a little weird."
"I know, isn't it?" She can feel her face scrunch up in sympathy with Pete's confusion. "But..." She takes a breath. "I really like him."
Pete nods. "Well... He's not as bad as some of your other boyfriends. But he's also scarier."
"He's not scary," she says. "You have to stop being afraid that he's going to fire you. Especially now that he and I are together." She frowns. "That sounded kind of gross, so I want to stress that I'm not sleeping with him to get any perks or special treatment. And I do not, at any point in the future, intend to use my relationship to get any perks or special treatment or a larger budget for the show. So don't even ask me."
He shakes his head in faux disappointment. "You and your morals."
*
Sixth Sense
*
On her first day back at work, her initial act of business is to meet with Jack. It's not as strange as she would've thought, treating her boyfriend as her boss... probably because their relationship was never a typical boss/employee one. Afterward, Jack takes the elevator down with her to welcome back the staff, and as they get close to the writers' room, she notices that his hand is on the small of her back. She stops, turns to him.
"Don't touch me like that. People will know... things."
"I've touched you like this before," he counters.
"Yeah, but... it's different."
"To you, yes. But none of these people has the perceptive nature necessary to pick up on subtle shifts in how we treat each other." He peeks in. "And now they're preoccupied with... whatever they're doing."
"It's a combination of table tennis and hacky sack. I mean, basically."
He's silent as he continues to watch them hit the tiny ball around the office. It bounces off the peak of Frank's trucker hat, and Lutz declares, "That's a million points! I win."
Jack frowns. "How does that make sense?"
"It really doesn't. You're still touching me."
"It would be more noticeable if I stopped touching you, but if you insist, I'll move my hand away." He returns his attention to the game. "I think I could master this."
"Don't get involved. Really."
She enters the room with Jack following her. He welcomes them back to work. And Liz says to her staff, "So why aren't you working?"
Lutz puts the ping-pong ball in his pocket. He looks a little scared. "I've got an idea for a sketch about a crime-fighting bum--"
"That's the same thing as your crime-fighting hobo sketch."
"Not really. There's more to it. Layers."
"Sure."
Liz goes into her office, and when she emerges some fifteen minutes later, Jack and her writers are deeply immersed in a round of Pong-A-Sack.
"Dudes, seriously?"
"We need you to pitch to," Frank says. "Also, Jack ordered us to show him how to play."
"I requested," Jack says. "And I think I'm getting the hang--"
"Out, Jack--"
"A few more minutes won't hurt--"
Liz ends up pushing him all the way to the elevator while he waxes rhapsodic about this glorious new game. "Exhilarating," he calls it.
"No, it's not. It's really, really stupid."
"There's no harm in finding joy in the trivial, Lemon." One of her hands is still on his back as she pushes the button for the elevator. "This type of touching is allowed?"
"This is unsuspicious, annoyed touching. But you're probably right that not touching would be weirder."
She tries to ignore his I-knew-I-was-right face; since he moves back to boyish excitement in a matter of moments, this is fairly easy. "I have to say, Lemon, it was--"
"Exhilarating, I know." She sighs. "Come back after lunch. And stay for ten minutes."
"One hour from now. And twenty minutes."
"I'm not going to negotiate with you. You've already enjoyed yourself way too much."
"Such a thing," he says as he steps onto the elevator, "is not possible."
After the elevator closes, she allows herself a smile.
*
Return
*
"My mother is here," Jack says, leaning his weight against Liz's door. "She flew out as soon as she got the carrier pigeon." Voice full of anguish, he mutters, "God, Lemon! Why did you tell me to do that?"
"I was kidding! I assumed you were, too," Liz says. "Wow, I can't believe you really sent out a carrier pigeon. I didn't even think carrier pigeons still, you know, carried things."
"You just have to know where to look," he says. "And who to pay. And for the record, I never joke about carrier pigeons. They're the only type of pigeons one can trust." He takes a deep breath. "We have to go to dinner with her. You can't say even think of trying to refuse the invitation this time."
"I know." She crosses to him, puts an arm around him. "I think I need to tell you to calm down now."
"You do."
She rests her hand on his chest to make sure his heart isn't beating too quickly. "At least you don't have to convince her to like me."
"It will be nice to take that form of attack away from her."
So they go out to dinner together. Jack doesn't clutch his chest once. A couple of days later, Colleen Donaghy's on a plane home.
"See?" Liz says. "You worried for nothing."
"I hardly think so." He nods. "But taking one form of attack away from her was rather advantageous."
"Well... I'm glad to be likeable to your mother."
"It is a plus for both of us." He shakes his head. "One thing I can say for sure, I'm never using another carrier pigeon. They're just as bad as their non-carrying siblings. Perhaps even worse. I never would've imagined such a thing to be possible."
For some reason, she really wants to kiss him. So, she does.
*
Spring
*
It's not an extremely dignified thing to choke in front of somebody, but it's better than dying. So when Jack's use of the Heimlich maneuver causes the Dorito to fly from her mouth, she's more relieved than mortified. She coughs a few times, manages to say, "I've always wanted someone to save me from choking. Or at least find my body."
"Thankfully," he says as he rubs her back, "it did not have to come to anyone discovering a corpse. And, Liz, I don't want it to seem like I'm blaming you, but I think you should eat less jagged snacks from now on. If you must have snacks." With a bit more anger, he adds, "Triangle chips are nothing but a menace."
"You know, you're right." She takes another couple of breaths, turns her head to look at him. Intending to thank him, she instead blurts out, "I love you. I really love you. Really. A lot."
"Are you saying this because I saved your life or because you're truly in love with me?"
"Both," she says. "I'd kiss you if my mouth didn't taste like death."
He kisses her forehead. "I love you, too." He sighs. "I should have warned you away from triangle chips sooner."
"I wouldn't have listened. You have to go through something like this before the allure is gone."
He nods. "Yes. That is, sadly, very true."
*
Sight
*
For Halloween, she does not dress up like Princess Leia. (Though she really wishes she could.) She doesn't dress up like anyone, actually, but she does dress up.
"This is totally lame, you know," she complains from the bathroom. "Having one of these tux and gown parties on Halloween. It's robbing people of the ability to wear actually awesome outfits. None of these people will get to wear a SpongeBob costume tonight."
"The people who go to such events don't wish to dress like SpongeBob," Jack replies from the other side of the door.
"See, that's sad."
"I suppose you have a point."
Liz scrunches up her face at her reflection. "I do?"
"Some of these people have no imagination, no spark, no burning need to have any sort of fun. When you lose all desire to dress like a cartoon character, you lose a part of yourself."
She looks down at her dress again, smoothing a hand over her stomach. "I'm totally making you dress up like Bugs Bunny next year."
"Why wait until then?" he says, voice vaguely flirtatious.
"Wait, are you proposing some sort of weird sex game?"
A moment of silence. "I'm not entirely sure. But I don't feel right about saying it, so I suppose that might have been what I was implying. Pretend I never said it."
"Done and done."
She checks her lipstick one last time, then opens the door. He's leaning against the wall, but stands up straight when he sees her. His eyes travel over the whole of her, then, "You look incredible."
"Thank you. But I totally look better as Princess Leia. You can see me in my costume anytime you like." She pauses. "I think I might have been implying a sex game, too."
He smiles. "Though yours does sound somewhat stimulating."
"Oh yeah? So when I made you watch Return of the Jedi, you must have enjoyed it way more than I thought."
"Never underestimate the power of a woman in a metal bikini."
"Huh. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. There are websites devoted to that metal bikini. Which is not my costume, by the way, so don't get too excited."
"I will make a mental note to keep my excitement in check." He pauses. "Could you get a metal bikini?"
"Really?" she says, though she knows he's serious. "I can't believe you're into geeky roleplaying."
"I'm intrigued by it," he clarifies. "You don't know how you'll like something until you try it." He holds out his arm. "Shall we go?"
She takes it. "Yeah. Let's."
*
Thanksgiving
*
When they wake up on Thanksgiving morning, Jack and Liz realize they have nothing to do.
"Thanksgiving," he says, "is traditionally a time for families to be together."
"You want to call your siblings?" she asks.
"Dear God, no. Saying something is traditional certainly doesn't mean I wish to do it. Do you want to go out?"
"Not really. Maybe we could stay in bed." He stares at her. She raises her eyebrows. "Wink wink, nudge nudge."
"I must say, I didn't think you were the type of woman who'd want to wile away the day in such a fashion."
She doesn't say that she wasn't that type, probably wouldn't be that type if she weren't sleeping with him, because he might get all smug and ruin the vibe. "Well, there's a lot you don't know about me."
He starts to unbutton her pajama top. "Really?"
"Probably not," she admits. "But there has to be a few things left."
He kisses her neck. "You should tell me them. Later, of course."
"Of course," she affirms as his mouth moves lower.
*
Snow
*
It starts to snow during Tracy's after-after-after-after-after-party, which happens to be occurring in a park in Central New Jersey. Her hands are cold, she really has to pee, and she's thinking she might take a break from all-night partying. (This is the first time she's done something like this in over a year, but still. Once a year is enough.) She takes a train back into the city, and it's still snowing when she makes it to her apartment.
"Don't let me go the bathroom on a New Jersey Transit train again," she tells Jack over the phone. She's curled up on her bed, still in her clothes from last night. "It's not nice and the locks on the doors don't really work."
"I will do my best to dissuade you." He pauses. "Did you just get home?"
"Yes. I think Tracy's still at it, though. Taking a spaceship to Italy. Wait, that doesn't sound right. I'm tired. I'm going to sleep. I just wanted you to know I'm not taking a spaceship to Italy with Tracy."
"I'm glad to hear it," he says. "Good morning, Lemon."
"Good morning, Jack," she says before she hangs up the phone and closes her eyes.
*
Christmas
*
Christmas is the time when you're supposed to be jolly, and this year, she has reasons to embrace the spirit of the season. Because she's in love, her show is doing increasingly better in the ratings, and Tracy hasn't ranted about a blue man tormenting him for months.
This'll be a nice Christmas.
Jack enters her office just as she's having these thoughts, so she's overly enthusiastic as she moves toward him. Fingers interlaced at the back of his neck, she smiles up at him.
"You're cheerful," he says, mirroring her smile.
"You're right. I am completely cheerful. And, you know what? I think I see some mistletoe."
He looks above his head. "I don't. And for the record, I don't approve of mistletoe. There's something about forcing people to kiss each other in the name of Christmas that seems... unsavory."
"Look, I was just trying to be playful. I guess it would've worked better if I had mistletoe and you didn't have your weird objections."
"There's nothing odd about my objections."
"There kind of is. You have a lot of weird objections."
"I do not."
"I mean, it's not like you have to kiss me. I just felt like kissing you, but you have to be all weird--"
Then his mouth is on hers. She smiles against his kiss and parts her lips as his arms wrap around her.
Sometime during kiss number four, the door opens.
Liz jumps away from Jack and looks at Frank, who seems to be in the grey area between curious and unconcerned.
"Hey," Frank says.
"Hi," Liz says. "We were just... comparing heights. What did we figure, Jack? You're about 5'11"?"
Jack awkwardly nods. "That is the approximate figure."
"Well, merry Christmas, Jack."
"Merry Christmas to you, too, Liz, who we have determined is shorter than I am."
Frank continues to stare at them. "Do I have to pretend to believe the lie before I get to leave?"
She sighs. "Just go, Frank."
Frank closes the door.
Jack turns back to her. "That was a horrible lie."
"I know," Liz admits. "But I couldn't come up with anything else. Height comparison. Ugh, that makes no sense. You should've said something. You're a better liar."
"I'm afraid I froze. Something about his blank expression kept me from coming up with a reasonable explanation. Also, there aren't many reasonable explanations for what we were doing outside of the truth."
"True." She frowns. "Do you think he's telling everyone?"
"I don't think so. He doesn't have the spirit of a gossip."
Jack opens the door. Frank is standing at the head of the writers' table, arms outstretched.
"You won't believe what I just walked in on. Jack Donaghy is in Liz's office right now, and they're making babies." He adjusts his hat. "And get this: I saw one of the babies, and the baby looked at me."
Jack closes the door. "He's airing my personal business using the words of Ralph Wiggum." His visage turns somber. "This is unacceptable."
She takes a deep breath. "You know what? This is no big deal."
"You're right. This is not an adulterous affair. We're two consenting adults."
"And if worse comes to worse, we can always tell people you're a virgin."
Jack waves a hand dismissively. "No one would believe that."
"Yeah, you're right."
"Perhaps we can say that you're a virgin."
She punches him on the arm. But not too hard; this is Christmastime.
*
New Year
*
For the days that stretch between Frank's non-gay outing of Jack and Liz and the start of the winter break for the TGS staff, things aren't as awkward as Liz would've imagined. Pete thinks it's because they're afraid of irking Jack; Jenna thinks it's because they couldn't possibly make fun of something as perfect as Jack and Liz's love.
Pete's probably right. No, Pete's definitely right. Jenna... well, Jenna probably needs a boyfriend, because she's totally romanticizing Liz's relationship way too much. Jenna has to get back to dating and be reminded of the fact that even a man you love can be kind of annoying and, thus, not perfect.
Like, for instance. They're at the third New Year's party of the evening. This is fine. She's dating a guy who bounces around the society circuit, that's what she's got to do. And he promised they'd end the evening at Jenna's party. (During which she's totally going to talk to her about that dating thing. This will be kind of weird, since it's always been the other way around.) Which she believes is going to happen, so. Great. But at the moment, he's disappeared into the crowd of strangers, and she's somehow been cornered by Tyra Banks, who keeps talking about how fierce everything is. And no matter what Liz says, Tyra makes it about herself. (When Liz introduced herself, Tyra told a story about how she accidentally bit into a lemon when she was eight, then somehow managed to segue into a narrative about her fear of dolphins. When Liz lamented that the war might last for another ten years, Tyra gave a rundown of the events that happened to her when she was ten years old, which also involved her fear of dolphins.)
Perfect dudes don't let their girlfriends go through this.
But then he does show up, pulling her away from Tyra without any explanation and leading her to the dance floor.
"Where were you?" Liz asks as he slides his arm around her. "You know she said fierce about thirty times? I'm not even kidding."
"I was mingling," he explains. "You could've just walked away from her yourself."
"I couldn't, Jack. She might throw a phone at me."
"You're confusing her with Naomi Campbell."
"Oh," Liz says. "Okay, I sort of rescind my irritation. Sorry."
"You're hardly the first person to be in a bad mood after talking to a supermodel," he says.
After he dips her, she remembers they're supposed to be dancing, so she acts accordingly. With his arms around her, she lets herself relax. Thinks that neither of them, nor their relationship, is perfect. But, you know. It's pretty good.
*
Pink
*
When Liz puts on the metal bikini, her cheeks turn pink at the ridiculousness of it. After quickly changing back into her normal attire, she leaves the bathroom and joins Jack on the couch. He passes her a plate with a piece of pizza on it and lets his hand rest on her leg. She looks over at him, thinks how lame it would be to spend money on that thing and not tell him, but. Well. She is not meant to wear Princess Leia slave girl clothes.
But she should tell him. Just for fun.
She quickly scarfs down the pizza in an attempt to gain some solid courage, and during the next commercial break, she says, "I actually bought that metal bikini."
He looks over at her. "Really?"
"Yeah. I was going to get it for Christmas, but I kept chickening out. And there's something gross about getting something like that as a present. It's like I'm gifting you sex, and. That's too hookery for me. But, anyway. It just came in the mail, and I was going to wear it out here, but I felt too weird. Thought I might look ridiculous. And I wasn't sure if you were still interested in that whole... thing."
His hand moves higher up on her thigh. "I am still intrigued by this concept, yes."
"Oh." The way he's looking at her is already making the prospect of putting the costume back on surprisingly appealing. "I got a Han Solo costume for you."
"That only seems fair."
"That's what I thought."
For the record, it turns out he does enjoy geeky roleplaying.
Liz actually likes it quite a bit, too.
*
Sunset
*
The weekend after Valentine's Day, he takes her to Paris. Everything about the city seems romantic -- she thinks it might even be more magical than Cleveland -- and the view from their room is the sort of thing one should see on a postcard. (Actually, she's pretty sure that Jack did once send her a postcard that looked like this. But, anyway.) It's... suspiciously good. Like he's planning something.
And at sunset, when he takes her out onto the balcony and pulls her close, kissing her like he means it -- even more than he usually does -- she can't help but think this is more than just a vacation. Without the cover of darkness to mask whatever perplexed reaction he might have, she says:
"Don't propose to me. I'm pretty sure that I'm still not ready for that."
He frowns at her. "You're not getting any younger."
"Oh yeah," Liz scoffs. "And you're aging backwards."
"If Leo's research is successful, perhaps I will be. Perhaps I will be." He stares into space for a moment, then looks back to her. "And, Liz... I'll wait."
"Wait?"
"For you to be ready."
"So you do want to marry me?"
"I thought that was obvious."
Liz takes his hand in hers. She's pretty sure she'll be ready sooner rather than later.
END