hebeimmortalized | (no subject)

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people: paul schafer

(no subject)

Paul is, Jillie is quite certain, some kind of actual living saint. She knows how he'd woken up when they'd shared her bed, and he'd actually excused himself. And, sure, part of Jillie wishes she hadn't — mostly the southern part of her — but she appreciates that he did, anyway.

But this is something entirely new. Jillie hasn't been on a date in . . . years. Even before she'd gotten sick, she hadn't so much dated as she had . . . gotten around. At least a little bit. It's nice to actually get to know the guy. And they are getting to know each other. They talk a lot. Almost as much as she and Jack talk. Almost as much as she and her therapist talk.

And today, they're going on a date. A real date.

It takes her hours to pick out an outfit. She makes Girl help. She sends pictures to Jack to double check. She's nervous and terrified and excited.

But she can do this.

She's got her hair braided up off her neck, and silver jewelry to accent her dress. Her shoes match her makeup and she's got a small clutch with her phone, keys, and cigarettes. Paul is picking her up. She feels like a princess.

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Jack pulls her chair out for her to sit before he walks around to his own seat and slides into it. He shrugs out of his jacket, draping it over the back of his chair.

"You really do," he says.

She settles into her seat, scooping her skirt under her so it sits flat and doesn't ride up.

"I really do what?" she asks. She places her clutch in her lap and looks at him from under her lashes.

"Look beautiful," says Paul, flushing faintly as he reaches out for a menu, glancing up at her through his lashes.

She huffs a soft laugh and struggles not to fidget. "I didn't think I said that out loud."

He laughs softly, pushing his hand back through his hair.

"Tell me something true about you and Jack."

A few thoughts pass through her mind at that, and she settles with, "When we were really little, we used to wear each other's clothes, to throw our parents off. We looked enough alike, without all the hormones changing our bodies, y'know? It was . . . actually a lot of fun, if I'm remembering right."

He can picture it, he thinks. It's a delightful image.

"I bet they loved that," he says. "Now tell me something that's true of just you."

"Just me?" She considers that, too, because there's so much she could tell him. She looks at him for a moment, holding his gaze. "I'm really scared of the feelings I'm starting to feel for you."

There is, he knows, something happening between them. He hasn't put a name to it yet, hasn't examined it too closely for fear that it might be fragile, but he knows that it's there.

He nods.

"A true thing for me, too," he says.

She blushes a little and nods, looking down at the menu for a quiet moment. Then she looks up at him again, curiously this time. "What is it about me?" she asks. "This isn't . . . I'm not looking for compliments. I'm curious. What was it about me that drew you back?"

He wants to tell her that it would be alright even if she was fishing for compliments, but he doesn't. He looks up.

"Aside from the fact that you're beautiful? Every inch of you?" He includes the scars, the weight he knows she doesn't love carrying, every part of it. "For a long time I've been...terrified of letting anyone close to me. But when its you, I find that I don't think about that at all."

She recalls that he'd told her once that it's easy to be around her. That still baffles her, just a little. She nods, though. "I guess that's a good thing, huh? That I don't scare you."

"I didn't say that," he says. "You terrify me. Just...not in the way that I'd expect." He smiles. "What about you? Why keep coming back to me?"

"There are a lot of reasons," she admits. "Some are more shallow than others. But, I think . . . because you make me feel safe?" She feels vulnerable to even admit it, but it's still the truth.

He smiles at that, feeling it for the high praise that he thinks it is.

"I'm sorry that everything's moving so slowly."

"Don't be," she says, even as a part of her wants to say 'me too.' She knows it's not because of any lack of attraction, and she's pretty sure there's plenty of chemistry. The pace is set for a good reason, for both of them, and she likes it. "I think it's good, like this."

He nods, his cheeks flushed as the waitress arrives at their table. Paul orders and then glances up at Jillie, waiting for her to decide, distracted for a moment how beautiful she is.

She places her order as well, and offers the menu over so they're not in the way. She can feel Paul watching her, and only very slowly brings her eyes to his after the waitress leaves again.

"I am . . . really digging the suit, by the way," she says.

Paul flushes with pleasure, straightening his waistcoat slightly, adjusting the knot in his tie.

"I was hoping you would," he says.

"It's very sharp," she assures. "Where'd you find it?" Clothes are easy, for Jillie. They always have been.

"There's a tailors," he says. "It...wasn't cheap, but I thought it was worth the expense."

She blushes a little. "Don't go broke on my account, okay?" she says, partly teasing.

"I think I can afford one suit," he says, grinning. "Especially if you're going to look at me like that while I'm wearing it."

She smiles warmly, definitely trying not to stare. "It's really, really easy to look at you like this," she admits.

"All the more reason to wear a suit more often," he says. "I'd never have worn one in Toronto and, in Fionavar, the fashion is...somewhat different."