Title: First Choice
Disclaimer: Why can't they be mine? Why? Why? Yeah, yeah, okay, they're not.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Well, it's based on the spoilers for the Season 8 episode 'Threads', so I guess it's a spoiler for that ;-)
Notes: I read the spoilers for 'Threads' and decided that this is how I'd like to see the S/J matters arising in that resolved. Of course, it will be nothing like what will actually happen, but that's what fic is for, right? :-D
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They walked into O'Malleys virtually unnoticed by all its patrons and she was thankful. Walking to a booth near the back, she quickly shed her jacket and tossed it onto a seat before sitting down. Her actions meant that her companion was forced to sit opposite, despite the previous intention of sitting beside her and letting his arm sneak around her shoulders.
The place was busy, but not too busy to foil her plan. The dim lighting was a bonus and she was glad she had selected this particular establishment. She contemplated whether she should just get it over with, but a server soon arrived to take their drinks order and said she'd be right back to take their food requests. Picking up a menu, she perused its contents and wondered what she would actually be able to stomach.
Looking around, she chuckled to herself when she realized she had chosen a corner booth. 'I'm here because I've been backed into a corner, at least the booth is by choice', she thought. A hand touching hers drew her eyes back to her companion and she gave him a half-smile before returning her gaze to the menu.
Their drinks arrived before she had really had a chance to decide what she wanted to eat, so she opted for a chef salad, hoping he might do the same. 'Salad won't take long to prepare, I'd be able to get this over with and get out of here quickly.' She mentally chastised herself for sounding so scheming.
Smalltalk was made while they waited for the food, which was longer than she had hoped for – he had gone with one of the famous O'Malley steaks and wanted it well done, not rare. 'How can he not know! He's trained to be observant, to pick up on everything, but he seems totally clueless about this.'
By the time their food arrived, her nerves were beginning to increase and she tucked into her meal instead of following through on her plan. 'I don't want to rush it, he deserves a full explanation.'
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Unbeknown to her, across the other side of the room another couple were in a similar situation. The male of the couple had chosen O'Malleys for much the same reason as her – a public place meant less chance of a scene being created when the news was given. He too was glad it wasn't busy enough to drown out raised voices.
They weren't eating, just having a casual drink, and he was trying to keep the atmosphere light. He didn't relish doing what he was about to do and he had given great thought to the best way of achieving his goal. Unfortunately, he couldn't think of an easy way for both of them, so had gone with one that would be easiest for him and hopefully easier for her.
The pool tables were in use and the constant chatter from the participants gave him something to listen to when conversation with his companion waned. 'I should have done it by now. It should have been fast and short, like ripping off a band-aid. Now, she thinks it's just like any other night.'
His musings were interrupted by her asking if he was alright. He gave her a half-smile and nodded, sipping his drink to prevent him from having to talk. 'Why is she not questioning me? She knows something is wrong, she told me that already. She had to be suspicious when I asked her to meet me here, rather than me picking her up. Didn't she think it strange that I wouldn't offer to be the designated driver?'
Suddenly, he felt a tug on his hand and his companion asked if he wanted to dance. He followed her gaze to the small dance floor, listening to the soft tune coming through the jukebox and sound system, but he shook his head. She deflated before his eyes. Apologizing, he told her he was tired and wouldn't do her justice. She seemed to buy his excuse and he wondered why he'd made it; why bother to lie given what he was about to do?
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She had eaten quickly, trying to speed up the process, but he seemed to be savoring every single bite of his steak, making it last an age. As her frustration grew, her nerves decreased again and she felt emboldened all of a sudden. She was still twitchy though and absently started fiddling with the ring on the third finger of her left hand. He noticed and, thinking it was for a different reason, he smiled and commented that he still loved seeing her wearing the ring he had given to her. She stopped fiddling with it immediately.
"I'm sorry," she started, her voice hitching as she anticipated how much hurt she was about to cause. He didn't appear to understand, and it was only when she removed the ring from her finger that he realized what was happening.
The conversation was short, but it would never be considered sweet. She felt awful as he asked her how long she had felt this way. When she said it was talk of the house that really brought it home to her, she winced at her inadvertent pun and watched as his expression registered shock.
When she could offer no further explanation, for fear of hurting him further, he abruptly stood up to leave. She held out the ring, but he rejected the offer and threw some dollar bills onto the table, enough to pay for both of them. 'Chivalrous to the end.' His actions made it more difficult for her to withhold tears and she dipped her head to avoid looking at his eyes, which were full of hurt and confusion.
As he left, the server returned and asked if everything was okay with the food. Nodding her head, she ordered another drink, a strong one, and was almost thankful that he'd insisted on picking her up, rather than them meeting at the bar, as it meant she didn't have to worry about driving home.
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He recoiled when she reached for his hand and instantly knew he had given himself away. It was now or never.
"I'm sorry," he started, his voice earnest and sincere. She stopped him in his tracks, telling him she already knew. What was more, she had planned to do exactly the same thing, as she wasn't prepared to be second choice. Nothing was said of who she suspected his first choice was and he neither confirmed nor denied anything. With a half-smirk, he asked if they could both maintain their dignity by agreeing it was a mutual decision and she told him that, if anyone asked her, she'd lay the blame entirely on him and say that she dumped him. Her tone was serious, but the glint in her eye told him she was joking and he emitted a laugh.
Standing up, she kissed him on the cheek and told him she'd see him at work. The manner of their parting gave him confidence that their professional relationship would be unaffected and he was thankful.
Picking up what was left of his drink, he walked towards the bar and took a seat on a stool. When the bartender finally noticed, he ordered a soda, glad that he didn't feel the need to drown his sorrows.
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She had finished her drink and was debating whether to call a cab, or to wait for a while. The place was getting busier and she decided she would spend her time people watching. Pocketing the engagement ring, with the intention to return it to him one way or another, she stood up and walked to the bar, taking one of the few remaining stools.
She didn't have to wait too long to be noticed and ordered herself a vodka, telling herself it would be her last alcoholic drink of the night. 'I've made the right decision, no need to drown my sorrows.'
Placing the drink in front of her, the bartender waved her hand away when she offered him the money. She looked at him in confusion and furrowed her brow when he explained someone else had already paid. He pointed down the bar and she followed his gaze, letting out a gasp of recognition.
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He had been stunned to hear her voice when she ordered a vodka, particularly when he looked around and found her to be sitting alone. The decision to buy her drink had been made quickly, without much forethought, meaning he had no idea how to act when he saw the bartender point in his direction and felt her gaze upon him. He was caught and it was another now or never moment.
Whispering to the guy sat next to him, he stood up and waited for everyone to shuffle up a seat, allowing him to slip onto the stool to her right. Neither said anything, he simply held up his glass and tipped his head in acknowledgement before taking a sip.
Her left hand was stuck in her pocket, idly fingering the ring it contained. She didn't know what made her do it, but she removed her hand and placed it on top of the bar, splaying her fingers.
He didn't notice at first, he thought she was just making herself comfortable, but then realization sunk in – she wasn't wearing her engagement ring. His eyes flew to hers and she merely dipped her head in a brief nod. He wanted to say something, anything, but no words would come. She weakly smiled at him, releasing him of his struggle and he returned the smile.
After more silence, he looked pointedly at her empty ring finger and asked if she wanted to talk. She didn't verbalize her reply, merely shook her head. He felt a need to initiate conversation and so asked her if she had come to O'Malleys alone.
"No," she replied, meeting his gaze for the briefest of moments, but telling him all he needed to know.
"Me either," he offered, waiting for her to look at him again. She didn't look up, but her posture changed slightly; it stiffened for a moment and then relaxed. He wanted to know whose decision it had been to break off the engagement, but he couldn't bring himself to ask. Either way, he knew she would be hurting and he didn't want to add to that. However, he did want to make it clear what had happened in his own attempted relationship. "I uh… I'll probably be coming here on my own a lot more again now," he said quietly, unsure of what her reaction would be to his words. She met his eyes again, but didn't acknowledge his statement in any other way; he knew she understood though.
She ordered another drink, a soda this time, and he asked if she was driving. Replying that she wasn't, he said he was and offered to drive her home. Her mouth opened as if to object, but she closed it again firmly and then nodded in agreement. He asked if she wanted a stronger drink now that he was there to make sure she got home safely, but she shook her head. She thought to herself that she wanted a clear head in the morning and definitely did not want to get drunk when he was around to help lower her defenses.
Ordering another soda for himself, they sat in amiable silence for a while, watching people come and go in the bar, people playing pool, people dancing. He was tempted once more to try and get her talking, but he resisted.
When she shrugged on her jacket, he knew she wanted to go home, so he donned his own and pulled out his keys. Without saying anything, he led her from the bar and out into the parking lot. Still nothing was said as they both climbed into his truck
and he started the engine.
It wasn't a long drive to her house, but it seemed endless as his thoughts jumbled together inside his brain. He needed to know what had happened, but couldn't ask her. He needed assurance that she was okay, but couldn't ask her. He needed confirmation that she knew he was there for her, but he couldn't say anything. As he drew up in front of her house, he finally thought of something to say, though he winced at how lame it sounded as the words left his lips.
"You know how much I hate clichés, but there are plenty more fish in the sea." Her eyes flew to his and he could see they were full of hurt, and he suspected it was because of what he'd said, rather than because of what had happened that night. "I know you don't want to hear that right now," he continued, looking at her seriously, "but just remember it, okay?"
She nodded and locked eyes with him again. "I'm done fishing," she said eventually, startling him as much with the sound of her voice, of which he had heard little that night, as with what her statement meant. Sensing his confusion, she decided she should enlighten him; she at least owed him that after his impeccable behavior as a friend. "I think I'm just gonna wait for the right guy this time."
"Ah, the old 'wait for the right man to come along' tactic, huh?" he smiled, trying to ease the tension and lighten the suddenly charged atmosphere.
"No. The 'wait for the right man' approach. Waiting is the way to go," she said meaningfully, looking at him intently to see if he understood. There was a brief moment of clarity before he masked his emotions once more and she smiled a little. Opening the truck door, she started to get out and then turned back to him. "Thank you." He opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off. "For tonight, for understanding, for waiting."
The look in her eyes was intense and he suspected his was the same. In a voice that was barely audible, he quipped, "I can be patient."
The tone of his voice and the smirk on his face caused her to chuckle and she simply said, "Sure you can," cheekily before exiting the vehicle and closing the door.
He watched her walk up to her house, never taking his eyes off her, but she didn't turn back. Putting the truck into gear, he started to pull away as her keys turned in the lock. Concentrating on the road ahead, he missed her waving at him slightly as she closed the door.
"I can be patient," he repeated aloud to himself as he drove away.
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The End