Lunchtimes
Jan. 15th, 2012 12:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
intheheartTitle: Lunchtimes
Rating: PG
Summary: So tell me, darling, do you wish we'd fall in love? Summer and Zack.
Notes: So, yeah, Owl City's The Saltwater Room has just become Summer and Zack's song.
Lunchtimes kept her sane, some days.
Summer was never more grateful for anyone's promotion than she was for Zack's most recent one. Public relations kept him at his desk, off the streets, and away from corpses and violent offenders. Away from the death and misery she saw every day, and most importantly out of danger. He needed to be kept out of danger. He'd run headfirst into it, otherwise.
Summer tried not to think about her own tendencies towards danger. But she at least was confined to the morgue. There was only so much trouble one could get into when everyone around was already dead.
There were other benefits too. Now, when lunchtime rolled around and she needed to see him, she didn't need to worry if he was at his desk or out in the field; didn't need to make a sneaky excuse to call and find out. She could just walk the two crowded blocks from the morgue to the station, skirt prisoner intake, and make her way through the maze of cubicles to Zack.
His desk was shoved far over in the corner of the bullpen; he was the new guy, so he got the shitty location. But she was kind of happy about that too, no matter how much he bitched about it after hours. It meant he wasn't bothered often, to begin with, and it was away from all the noise and commotion of the main hallway and the other cops. Summer liked the other cops, she really did-- Felipe in particular would always be dear to her heart, after everything he'd done-- but lunchtimes were special, and she didn't want to be bothered when she could get one.
Today, when she got to his desk, he was on the phone with someone, handset clutched between his shoulder and his ear while he doodled elaborate patterns on the sheet of paper in front of him. "Uh-huh," he said. "That's an open investigation, Bob, I can't comment on it. You know that, so why do you bother asking?"
Summer tapped him on the shoulder, and he jumped, then twisted around and mouthed, Do you not make noise, at her. She gave him a tiny smile, the best she could do today, and held up her lunch sack.
Zack only looked at her for a moment, concern in his face, then said, "Bob, I'm gonna have to call you back." He listened for a moment. "Because it's lunchtime and I got a date. Buzz off." Another pause; this time he ended it with a laugh. "Yeah, yeah, same to you. I'll call you in an hour."
He hung up with a click, then swiveled to face her and opened his hands. "I'm all yours."
That made her smile just a little more, remembering the first time he'd said that to her. "Did you remember to bring lunch?"
Zack smiled his sunniest smile at her. "No, oh best cook I know, I seem to have forgotten my lunch. Fancy that."
Summer raised an eyebrow at him and fought back a smile. "Oh, dear. I suppose I'll have to share." She took the back of his guest chair and pulled it around the desk to sit beside his.
"Ka-ching!" Zack said, and punched the air. "Tasty lunch and a gorgeous girl, what's not to love."
She giggled, in spite of herself.
"There we go," he said, sounding pleased with himself. "Knew I'd get that eventually. You doing all right, Summer?"
Summer felt the smile fall off her face.
She went very quiet, then busied herself unpacking the food she'd brought-- more than enough for two, since this was not the first time Zack had pulled the forgotten-lunch stunt-- hoping she wouldn't have to answer that question explicitly.
She didn't look at him, but she imagined his expression did much the same thing as hers while he watched her spread the sandwiches out on his desk, without regard for paperwork or doodlepads. "Rough morning?" he asked, quietly.
Summer shrugged one shoulder, and did not look at him. "Little girl," she said. "Nine years old."
She didn't say how the little girl had died. It was an ongoing investigation, and besides, he didn't need those nightmares. It was enough that she would have them.
"Jesus," Zack said. He took her hand, squeezed it quickly, and let go. "I'm sorry."
"They're going to catch him," Summer said, still without looking up. "I found hair and fibers that weren't hers. Plenty of matches. They're going to catch him. It just wasn't soon enough."
"It never is," he said, soberly. "Is there anything I can do?"
Summer nodded, grateful even though she'd known he'd say this. "Talk to me, please."
Zack raised his eyebrows. "About what?"
"Anything," she said, then amended, "Anything else. Just talk to me."
"Well, you're bribing me with food, how can I say no." He grinned at her, then launched onto a long, winding story involving his sister, his uncle, Felipe, and at least three cousins she'd never heard of. It had no discernable point or internal logic, and in fact didn't even seem to stay on the same topic for more than three sentences, but it was distracting enough that she didn't even mind.
It was nice, she thought, listening to him ramble between bites of sandwich, to not have to talk, or think, even. She had to think so often; what to say, what to do, what was right, what was wrong. But with Zack... he didn't even notice when she did something wrong anymore. She didn't have to adjust. She didn't have to think.
It would be really nice if she could have this all the time. A place where she didn't have to work. But she knew better.
Didn't she?
"...so Paige told him where he could stick it," Zack said. "In Portuguese. I don't even know where she learned that, because nobody she knows speaks Portuguese. I mean, I think Felipe can swear in it, but sometimes I think he can swear in every language on Earth, and that doesn’t mean he speaks it. Are you doing any better now? Because my throat's getting dry."
"Yes," Summer said, absently. "That story made absolutely no sense, by the way."
Zack shrugged. "Didn't think it had to." He ate the last piece of his sandwich, swallowed, and added, "I'm glad you're feeling better."
"Yes, well. It's going to be a bad night for nightmares," she said, and almost bit her tongue. She hadn't meant to say that. It was implying something, she knew that, and she didn't want to give him the wrong impression. She didn't want him to think she wanted something she didn't. Even if she did. Sort of.
Zack lifted his eyebrows again, sat back and watched her, but said nothing. Was he going to make her clarify?
Oh hell. She'd messed it up this much, she might as well go all the way.
"I'm a little afraid," she said, and when he still said nothing, she took a deep breath and added, "I don't want to be alone. Um. If you don't mind..."
"I'll come over," he said, and squeezed her hand again. "I'll be your teddy bear, no strings attached. You just tell me when."
Summer let out a breath-- she wouldn't mind strings, necessarily, but that was moving more than a little fast no matter how long they'd been having these lunches-- and smiled at him. "Whenever you get out. You know where I live."
He laughed. "Sounds good. You want me to bring the pizza?"
She made a face. "I don't like pizza, you know that. I was going to get Thai."
"Okay, I'll have pizza." He paused, then added, "You know, normal people like pizza." He was teasing; she knew that tone by now.
"I'm not normal," Summer said, leaned back in her chair, and gave him the amused little half-smile that Gina gave Ivy so often. "Your point?"
"Guess I don’t have one," he said, smiling back. "Whose expression is that?"
Summer made a face. "Gina's. How do you always know?"
He waved a hand. "Your face goes stiff, like you don't quite know what to do with it. You don't have to do that with me, you know."
She shrugged, and got up, gathered her lunch things together. "I know, but it's good practice. Anyway. Just... call me when you're ready, I guess?"
"I will," he said. "Don't worry, Summer. I'll be there."
"I know," she said, and then hesitated, hovering by his desk. She could ask. Should she ask? He said yes to the other thing, but that might just be the grown-up equivalent of a slumber party. He hadn't given any indication that he might be interested in anything further, or at least not one she could read. Still, there was what Felipe had said, and Felipe was never wrong, at least not about Zack...
Zack, who was lifting an eyebrow at her. "Anything else?" he asked, dryly.
Felipe was never wrong, Summer reminded herself, and went for it. "Will you kiss me, please? If you don't mind."
Both eyebrows shot up, then he smiled. "Oh, Summer. Don't have to ask me twice." He tipped her chin up with a light touch, leaned over, and kissed her, softly.
And Felipe hadn't been wrong. There was no heat behind it, or not much; just comfort. Just someone who loved her, telling her so.
She should send Felipe flowers.
Zack pulled back just a little, and said, "I would give a lot to know what you're thinking right now."
"I'm not going to tell you," Summer said. "Kiss me again, please."
"Damn," he said. "Oh well. Anything for the lady."
This kiss got a little heated. More than a little. He didn't touch her, beyond that hand on her chin, but she was flushing and her skin was tingling as if he was. She was starting to wonder if this might turn into something with strings after all, and rapidly ceasing to care, when someone in the bullpen decided that it would be a splendid time to wolf-whistle.
Summer pulled back, startled, then giggled nervously. Zack didn't even bother looking in their direction, only lifted a hand and extended his middle finger. He ignored the ensuing barrage of insults in favor of kissing her a third time, that soft, comforting touch again, then let it change slowly into a hug.
Summer laid her head on his shoulder, closed her eyes, and let herself relax. She was safe here, and loved. No matter what happened next, she knew that now.
Some days, lunchtime was all that kept her sane.
Rating: PG
Summary: So tell me, darling, do you wish we'd fall in love? Summer and Zack.
Notes: So, yeah, Owl City's The Saltwater Room has just become Summer and Zack's song.
Lunchtimes kept her sane, some days.
Summer was never more grateful for anyone's promotion than she was for Zack's most recent one. Public relations kept him at his desk, off the streets, and away from corpses and violent offenders. Away from the death and misery she saw every day, and most importantly out of danger. He needed to be kept out of danger. He'd run headfirst into it, otherwise.
Summer tried not to think about her own tendencies towards danger. But she at least was confined to the morgue. There was only so much trouble one could get into when everyone around was already dead.
There were other benefits too. Now, when lunchtime rolled around and she needed to see him, she didn't need to worry if he was at his desk or out in the field; didn't need to make a sneaky excuse to call and find out. She could just walk the two crowded blocks from the morgue to the station, skirt prisoner intake, and make her way through the maze of cubicles to Zack.
His desk was shoved far over in the corner of the bullpen; he was the new guy, so he got the shitty location. But she was kind of happy about that too, no matter how much he bitched about it after hours. It meant he wasn't bothered often, to begin with, and it was away from all the noise and commotion of the main hallway and the other cops. Summer liked the other cops, she really did-- Felipe in particular would always be dear to her heart, after everything he'd done-- but lunchtimes were special, and she didn't want to be bothered when she could get one.
Today, when she got to his desk, he was on the phone with someone, handset clutched between his shoulder and his ear while he doodled elaborate patterns on the sheet of paper in front of him. "Uh-huh," he said. "That's an open investigation, Bob, I can't comment on it. You know that, so why do you bother asking?"
Summer tapped him on the shoulder, and he jumped, then twisted around and mouthed, Do you not make noise, at her. She gave him a tiny smile, the best she could do today, and held up her lunch sack.
Zack only looked at her for a moment, concern in his face, then said, "Bob, I'm gonna have to call you back." He listened for a moment. "Because it's lunchtime and I got a date. Buzz off." Another pause; this time he ended it with a laugh. "Yeah, yeah, same to you. I'll call you in an hour."
He hung up with a click, then swiveled to face her and opened his hands. "I'm all yours."
That made her smile just a little more, remembering the first time he'd said that to her. "Did you remember to bring lunch?"
Zack smiled his sunniest smile at her. "No, oh best cook I know, I seem to have forgotten my lunch. Fancy that."
Summer raised an eyebrow at him and fought back a smile. "Oh, dear. I suppose I'll have to share." She took the back of his guest chair and pulled it around the desk to sit beside his.
"Ka-ching!" Zack said, and punched the air. "Tasty lunch and a gorgeous girl, what's not to love."
She giggled, in spite of herself.
"There we go," he said, sounding pleased with himself. "Knew I'd get that eventually. You doing all right, Summer?"
Summer felt the smile fall off her face.
She went very quiet, then busied herself unpacking the food she'd brought-- more than enough for two, since this was not the first time Zack had pulled the forgotten-lunch stunt-- hoping she wouldn't have to answer that question explicitly.
She didn't look at him, but she imagined his expression did much the same thing as hers while he watched her spread the sandwiches out on his desk, without regard for paperwork or doodlepads. "Rough morning?" he asked, quietly.
Summer shrugged one shoulder, and did not look at him. "Little girl," she said. "Nine years old."
She didn't say how the little girl had died. It was an ongoing investigation, and besides, he didn't need those nightmares. It was enough that she would have them.
"Jesus," Zack said. He took her hand, squeezed it quickly, and let go. "I'm sorry."
"They're going to catch him," Summer said, still without looking up. "I found hair and fibers that weren't hers. Plenty of matches. They're going to catch him. It just wasn't soon enough."
"It never is," he said, soberly. "Is there anything I can do?"
Summer nodded, grateful even though she'd known he'd say this. "Talk to me, please."
Zack raised his eyebrows. "About what?"
"Anything," she said, then amended, "Anything else. Just talk to me."
"Well, you're bribing me with food, how can I say no." He grinned at her, then launched onto a long, winding story involving his sister, his uncle, Felipe, and at least three cousins she'd never heard of. It had no discernable point or internal logic, and in fact didn't even seem to stay on the same topic for more than three sentences, but it was distracting enough that she didn't even mind.
It was nice, she thought, listening to him ramble between bites of sandwich, to not have to talk, or think, even. She had to think so often; what to say, what to do, what was right, what was wrong. But with Zack... he didn't even notice when she did something wrong anymore. She didn't have to adjust. She didn't have to think.
It would be really nice if she could have this all the time. A place where she didn't have to work. But she knew better.
Didn't she?
"...so Paige told him where he could stick it," Zack said. "In Portuguese. I don't even know where she learned that, because nobody she knows speaks Portuguese. I mean, I think Felipe can swear in it, but sometimes I think he can swear in every language on Earth, and that doesn’t mean he speaks it. Are you doing any better now? Because my throat's getting dry."
"Yes," Summer said, absently. "That story made absolutely no sense, by the way."
Zack shrugged. "Didn't think it had to." He ate the last piece of his sandwich, swallowed, and added, "I'm glad you're feeling better."
"Yes, well. It's going to be a bad night for nightmares," she said, and almost bit her tongue. She hadn't meant to say that. It was implying something, she knew that, and she didn't want to give him the wrong impression. She didn't want him to think she wanted something she didn't. Even if she did. Sort of.
Zack lifted his eyebrows again, sat back and watched her, but said nothing. Was he going to make her clarify?
Oh hell. She'd messed it up this much, she might as well go all the way.
"I'm a little afraid," she said, and when he still said nothing, she took a deep breath and added, "I don't want to be alone. Um. If you don't mind..."
"I'll come over," he said, and squeezed her hand again. "I'll be your teddy bear, no strings attached. You just tell me when."
Summer let out a breath-- she wouldn't mind strings, necessarily, but that was moving more than a little fast no matter how long they'd been having these lunches-- and smiled at him. "Whenever you get out. You know where I live."
He laughed. "Sounds good. You want me to bring the pizza?"
She made a face. "I don't like pizza, you know that. I was going to get Thai."
"Okay, I'll have pizza." He paused, then added, "You know, normal people like pizza." He was teasing; she knew that tone by now.
"I'm not normal," Summer said, leaned back in her chair, and gave him the amused little half-smile that Gina gave Ivy so often. "Your point?"
"Guess I don’t have one," he said, smiling back. "Whose expression is that?"
Summer made a face. "Gina's. How do you always know?"
He waved a hand. "Your face goes stiff, like you don't quite know what to do with it. You don't have to do that with me, you know."
She shrugged, and got up, gathered her lunch things together. "I know, but it's good practice. Anyway. Just... call me when you're ready, I guess?"
"I will," he said. "Don't worry, Summer. I'll be there."
"I know," she said, and then hesitated, hovering by his desk. She could ask. Should she ask? He said yes to the other thing, but that might just be the grown-up equivalent of a slumber party. He hadn't given any indication that he might be interested in anything further, or at least not one she could read. Still, there was what Felipe had said, and Felipe was never wrong, at least not about Zack...
Zack, who was lifting an eyebrow at her. "Anything else?" he asked, dryly.
Felipe was never wrong, Summer reminded herself, and went for it. "Will you kiss me, please? If you don't mind."
Both eyebrows shot up, then he smiled. "Oh, Summer. Don't have to ask me twice." He tipped her chin up with a light touch, leaned over, and kissed her, softly.
And Felipe hadn't been wrong. There was no heat behind it, or not much; just comfort. Just someone who loved her, telling her so.
She should send Felipe flowers.
Zack pulled back just a little, and said, "I would give a lot to know what you're thinking right now."
"I'm not going to tell you," Summer said. "Kiss me again, please."
"Damn," he said. "Oh well. Anything for the lady."
This kiss got a little heated. More than a little. He didn't touch her, beyond that hand on her chin, but she was flushing and her skin was tingling as if he was. She was starting to wonder if this might turn into something with strings after all, and rapidly ceasing to care, when someone in the bullpen decided that it would be a splendid time to wolf-whistle.
Summer pulled back, startled, then giggled nervously. Zack didn't even bother looking in their direction, only lifted a hand and extended his middle finger. He ignored the ensuing barrage of insults in favor of kissing her a third time, that soft, comforting touch again, then let it change slowly into a hug.
Summer laid her head on his shoulder, closed her eyes, and let herself relax. She was safe here, and loved. No matter what happened next, she knew that now.
Some days, lunchtime was all that kept her sane.
