Kitapçının Üstündeki Adam

Posted on 31 Jan 2022 @ 20:00 by Jonathan Demir & Lieutenant Commander Elizabeth Watts
Edited on on 04 Mar 2022 @ 10:43

Episode: Our Path
Location: The Libretto
Timeline: May 15, 2015

The walk back to The Libretto and Jon's apartment seemed longer than the walk to the restaurant. Jon held the fragrant bag of warm food with both plastic straps slung across the middle of his palm on the side furthest from Liz. His other hand was free and he found himself brushing toward her as they walked. If truth be told he was distracted as they walked. He hadn't planned on having her... or anyone for that matter... back to his apartment. It was one thing for one of the guys to drop in and eat pizza off of paper plates on his couch with a game controller in hand. It was another, entirely, to bring a girl into his space. He was mentally calculating all of the things that might make her run screaming from his apartment.

When they finally did reach The Libretto's storefront again he walked her past it and down a side alley to a set of steps. "This is me," he said with a nervous smile shot in her direction. He ascended the stairs quickly, turning down a hall, keys in hand and then in the door before he could lose his nerve. He ducked inside quickly, flipping light switches as he went and holding the door free so she could follow behind.

"Sorry it's not more... picked up..." he said, setting the bag down on the counter of the small kitchenette and snagging an errant coffee mug he'd left there that morning, not bothering to empty it before leaving the house. He tossed the contents into the sink, flipping the water on for a quick rinse, before setting it down in and then began unpacking containers onto the counter.

"Chopsticks or a fork?" he asked, "And plates or bowls?"

"Either and either," Liz said. She was completely capable of all of those things but didn't actually have a preference. "I didn't know vikings used chop sticks. It's really not bad, and at work we don't even wash coffee mugs... so, uh, do you own the bookstore or just happen to live here too?" she asked, she had been impressed by the store and would be more impressed if he were the owner.

Jon paused, head halfway into a pantry. He tilted backwards so be could see her face. "The store is mine," he said carefully. This was always a double edged sword. "I don't own the building..." Here he leaned forward again, hands settling on paper plates. "...yet."

“Oh that’s cool, the store was really impressive,” Liz said, sincerely.

"Thanks," he said, closing the pantry door and tugging open a drawer of silverware.

He returned to the counter setting a paper plate in front of her along with a fork and a pair of chopsticks. Quickly he twisted the white cardboard and plastic lidded containers, figuring out which was which.

He looked up at her, one half of his mouth crooking upward in a hesitant grin. "If this were a normal date I would say we should eat at the table, but..." he shrugged self consciously, "if you are good with the couch I wouldn't complain. I've been on my feet since 7."

“Normal dates are boring and I’m fine on the couch,” Liz responded, motioning toward the living room. She began to move some of her food from the container to her plate, and stole some of his too, it was Chinese you shared that.

She smirked at him and picked up the fork, it was more efficient, besides she spoke mandarin and could read and write Chinese fluently…. She didn’t need to impress him with chopsticks.

Chopsticks in hand, Jon scooped rice and a chunk of chicken and vegetables in a brown sauce onto his plate. He grinned, finding a bit of his selection on her plate and scooped a bit of her selection for himself as well before making his way to the couch. With a sigh he flipped back into one of the corners, using the chopsticks to scoop the rice meat mixture into his mouth.

"You mentioned you're here for work. What kind of work do you do?" He asked. Not sure if she would agree to tell him. She had been sparse with details so far.

She sat down on the couch and looked at him for a moment before leaning forward and putting her food down on the table and taking a quick bite. After she had swallowed she sat back and looked at him for a moment, her eyes wandered down his tunic and then back up to his face.

"Has anyone tried to feel you up in your viking dress?" Liz asked, her head tilting. "I used to have this boyfriend who would try to do it anytime I wore a dress. It lasted longer than it probably should have... but you're stupid when you're young, right?"

Jon's eyebrows rose slightly at her question, mouth full of of food. He chewed quickly, swallowing and setting the plate in his lap. "Happens at least once every Vikingfest," he told her with a chuckle. "Usually it's drunk ladies my mom's age though. Does that count?" He eyed her a moment, curious about her question. "Certainly not anyone I'd want to be feeling me up."

The last sentence came out quickly and he immediately regretted it, worrying about what she might assume based on that comment. He supposed nothing that wasn't actually true. But the pool of women he would like to have get fresh with him in this get up was small. At this point really there was only one person in it. His eyes darted to his plate, not wanting to see any judgment if she thought he was out of line.

Liz giggled, "I get it, Moms are old. Also, I'd probably feel the same if my Dad's friends were trying to feel me up. If it makes you feel better though I can totally do it," she said, giggling again, this time it was nervousness.

He looked up as she said it, hesitant uncertainty on his features as he my mulled over what she had said. "Ok," he said slowly, setting his plate down on a side table and sitting forward. "If I can kiss you first..."

It was a gamble, but he was either calling her bluff and that would tell him something, or not and that... Well that would tell him something else entirely.

"Why do you get to go first?" she asked, her head straightening as she clearly prepared to judge his answer.

He hadn't expected a question in reply. A yes, or a no maybe, but not a question. The corner of his mouth twitched downward for just a second, still not certain of the right next move. "If you'd rather go first," he said with a sort of half shrug, "you're certainly welcome." He spread his arms wide in a conciliatory gesture, placing the ball squarely back in her court. If she wanted to decide, he would let her.

She had a blank expression for a moment as she reflected in her mind what she had just done. What was she thinking?

"Well, get over here," she said, patting the couch cushion beside her. Until now the awkward couple had been sitting on opposite ends of the couch trying hard to not try too hard.

Jonathan's eyes widened, hesitating for a moment. He couldn't decide if she was serious or if this might be a joke for which he was missing the punchline. He stood quickly, shuffling sideways the couple steps down the couch and then sat next to her leaving just the tiniest gap between them. For a moment he sat awkwardly with his hands in his lap before stretching the arm closest to her back along the edge of the couch, tilting his head to look at her with a curious expression.

"You look nervous," she said, tilting her head. She placed her hand on his leg but over the tunic not wanting to make an advance just yet. Of course she was ignoring the fact that she probably looked just as nervous as he did.

He chuckled, the sound a tiny bit strained and giving away just how well she had read his expression. "So do you," he pointed out, deflecting a bit. He was watching her, trying to gauge what she was thinking. "You don't have to... I mean... If you don't want to..."

"I'm never nervous," she said, as boldly as she could fake.

He chuckled again, the same strained tension in his tone. "Right..." he said slowly drawing out the word, "and I am a real Viking."

She laughed in response to his doubt and then leaned in and kissed him.

For what felt like the millionth time in the short span he had known her she surprised him... again. Her lips in reality were softer than anything his mind had dreamt up in the interval between asking her to meet him for dinner and actually doing it. He returned the kiss gently, nose bumping hers as he shifted slightly so he could better reach her lips.

Life disappeared as she kissed him, there was no describing how it felt other than perfect, of course afterward when the heartbeat sound faded from her ears and she realized there had been an awkward silence for longer than what should have happened she stammered a bit.

"See, not nervous," she said, barely able to get the words out. She placed her hand on his bare leg where the tunic ended and then she grinned at him before leaning in to kiss him again her hand advancing up.

In the long silence he wondered if she might actually be able to hear his heart racing. He tried not to watch her, knowing that if he did there was little chance he was going to come off collected and now that they were here the ability to actually think straight was leeching away at an alarming pace. He had opened his mouth to break the silence when she beat him to it--the waver of nerves in her voice unmistakable and, somehow, reassuring. For a moment he fought the urge to laugh at the enormous disparity between her words and her tone of voice, but then her lips were on his again and the desire to do anything other than kiss her fled.

This kiss was different if for no other reason than the painful awareness he had of the placement of her hand. If he had paused to think he would have guessed she wasn't actually going to follow through on her offer and yet...

She continued kissing him as her hand rummaged around moving up his leg and sort of side to side. She was nervous and distracting herself with kisses. He didn't seem to be stopping her so she continued to fumble through feeling her way up his leg. As she suddenly came across an unexpected landmark she stopped and looked at him eyes wide.

"I uh, didn't know you were still wearing your axe," she swallowed hard.