Title: Endearing
Author: CrazyCatLadyIrishlullaby
Rated: M
Summary: In which reading, search histories, and illegal hunting bring about confessions of feelings for each other. #Ichabbie
Notes: I have only watched the series through twice (just started watching it a third time) so please forgive any moments that don't jive canonically.
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Endearing.
That was the first word Abbie could think of when it came to Crane.
The way he would often become frustrated during a case because historians had gotten some small detail wrong. The small blush that would creep onto his skin when she teased him about whatever he was frustrated over. That look he got when he realized he was just being silly. Then there was his voice.
His tone when he reminded her they had each other. She could be imagining it, or maybe just seeing too much into things but, there always seemed to be something a little deeper than friendly adoration in his voice.
More than once, as of late, she had caught him gazing at her. She would say staring but that didn't seem like the correct word. His gaze would roam over her face, as though taking in every little detail before reaching her eyes. At which point, he would look adequately surprised, blush, and put his attention back on whatever tome he was submerged in.
Abbie wasn't sure when she had started feeling something for Crane. Just that more than once she had caught her self admiring his physical attributes and fighting a smile at the grandiloquent words and gestures he would use. One thing was for certain, she cared for him as more than just a friend.
But then things would happen, wives would return from Purgatory, get kidnapped, come back, run away, turn evil, and finally die. Abbie knew better than to infringe on an already established relationship. But, now Katrina was gone.
While she was certain Crane hadn't completely gotten over the woman he had pined over for so long or if he ever would. But she was certainly anticipating the day he would give some indicator that he was ready to move forward with his romantic life. Until then, she would just do her best to put her own emotions aside.
Although, she could always do research in the meantime to find out the do's and don'ts for "courting"someone from his era.
Abbie opened her computer and accessed the search engine.
Colonial courtship rituals
She clicked the first link "5 Courtship Rituals From Colonial America" and scanned the page with curiosity. Her eyebrows arched in interest on the last two. Apparently, despite the puritans and what was ordinarily viewed as a sexually uptight era, they were not too much different from her own era.
Men could share a bed with a woman, without repercussions just by promising to marry her... if he made good on the promise. If he didn't, he would be found and forced to atone for his dishonesty. A far cry from the way the world worked now. Courting couples could go so far as to share a bed for a night, as long as they promised not to do anything reserved for marriage or stayed on their respective sides of a board in the middle of the bed. They often didn't even have marriage ceremonies... just held hands and promised themselves to each other.
An article titled "Courtship, Sex, and the Single Colonist" added onto breaking down what Abbie thought about what Crane might expect from a woman. Apparently it wasn't uncommon for most women to walk down the aisle pregnant (when an actual ceremony took place).
The next few sites essentially repeated the same things as the former with the same old ideas of arranged marriages and marrying to gain political status.
A thought occurred to her.
Colonial man mourning death of wife.
Abbie frowned when all she got was general mourning stories and tales of local, current era people mourning the loss of their loved ones. What little information she could find about the colonial era, only gave the women as examples and gave no indication as to whether the same rules applied to the men.
A sudden rustle from Crane's direction made her glance up. A grin had spread over his lips and he was reclaiming his seat. It wasn't unusual, when he was getting into a book, for him to expel energy in the form of standing up and flourishing his arms dramatically.
Endearing.
That word came to her mind again.
He raised his eyes to meet hers. His fingers curled around the backside of the book as he closed it. "Lieutenant," he said gently, barely able to contain the delight in his voice. "Where might I find the final instalment of the misadventures of young Potter and his friends?"
Abbie stood, taking a moment to roll her shoulders and stretch out her back before going to the bag that contained the latest procurements from the library. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows was not amongst the loot.
Oh right...
"They were all out of it," Abbie said regretfully. "But, I think I might have it on my computer."
Crane inhaled deeply, his lips pressing into a disapproving line at the thought of reading a book on an electronic device. Abbie could practically visualize the tirade that would undoubtedly unfold momentarily.
"Although your generation has found means of reducing the entirety of literature to fit onto your electronic devices, there still remains precious few individuals that see reading as an experience to be had. There is something to be said to allow yourself get submerged in the smell of a book being opened for the first time, or the scent of a tome that had long been forgotten only to be rediscovered," Crane ranted. Abbie leaned back against the desk and hid a growing smirk by lightly biting her index finger. "The pages of a book are meant to be caressed and cherished as one would do to a lover... Not casually pushed along with a scroll bar."
He puffed out his chest indignantly as his moment of feeling superior was finished.
Abbie brought her hands down to the desk. "Do you want to read it or not, Crane?"
"Indeed I would, Lieutenant," Crane said tersely, but eagerly vacated his seat to scurry to her computer.
Abbie pushed away from the desk. "It'll be in the downloads or documents folder. If it's not there you can check my kindle account," she said. "I'm going to get coffee. You want anything?"
Crane smiled with delight, his eyes twinkling with joy at being able to continue his reading. "I would be quite grateful for a toffee mocha frappuccino, if you could be so kind," he replied.
She gave him a mock salute and ducked out of the cabin and hurried to her suv.
It wasn't often days like this happened. But they were going to be taking as much advantage of the quiet time as possible, while not letting their guard completely down. Last time they had let their guard down, Henry had just been in hiding for six weeks.
So far it had been almost eight weeks without any odd murders or anything beyond basic police duties. And to be honest, she was getting kind of bored with just sitting around at work so most of her days consisted of perusing the shops of Sleepy Hollow for herself or taking Crane places. Occasionally she would get a call if she was needed for disputes, but even those were few and far between.
Today she didn't dawdle... She was just in need of seeing civilization and getting some coffee. She had seen civilization and she had gotten coffee. Now it was back to the cabin.
When she entered the cabin, it was unnaturally quiet and Crane was nowhere in sight.
"Crane? I have coffee," she called, setting his drink next to the computer. He had his book open on the desktop. He had already made it half way through chapter four. Not bad considering it wasn't that long of a drive to town and back. Apparently it had been on her kindle account. Good on him finding it on his own.
He was almost completely independent in the modern world. If things continued as they were, before long, they could even go their separate ways. Abbie felt her heart fall at the thought of never seeing Crane again.
No, no, even if their time as Witnesses was done, they would stay together.
A chill went up her spine as Crane's hand grazed the gap between her jeans and shirt.
"Pardon, Lieutenant," he murmured as he wedged past her to squeeze back into his seat. His blue eyes flashed up to her face, accompanied with a brief, shy smile, before he looked away again. He retrieved his drink and eagerly began to consume it.
"I'm going to cook up something to eat for lunch," Abbie said, as she made her way to the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator and saw a gallon size ziplock bag full of red, bloody meat. "Crane," she groused. "It's not hunting season. Why is there fresh venison in the fridge?"
"I have versed myself in the laws. That deer was a nuisance because it insisted upon eating the perennials we laboured so hard upon last weekend. So the only natural recourse was to deal with said nuisance. And a hunter simply does not waste such a fine specimen of fresh meat when it is available," Crane retorted. He huffed with indignation. "Should you look into the cookie jar, you will find fresh venison jerky which I have prepared."
When did he have time to dress a deer and make jerky? She had come to visit numerous times in the past few days and she hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary.
"When did you kill this deer?" Abbie asked.
"Yesterday, shortly after you returned home. But not to worry," Crane said. "I made use of Mister Corbin's shed for the dressing, butchering, and roasting of the meat in question. It cleaned up rather nicely."
Abbie smirked and shook her head. She grabbed the ziplock an set to washing off and cutting the meat into strips. "I know you're still getting used to things being different, but you can't just go killing any animal that wanders into the flowers, Crane. If you want I can get you a calendar of the hunting seasons and you can study to get a hunting permit."
Crane grumbled disapprovingly. All she could make out was ludicrous and not what we fought the war for. She shook her head and chuckled.
"Lieutenant," Crane said after a moment of silence. "Might I make an inquiry?"
"Go for it," Abbie said, putting a pan on the stove and turned it on. She threw a few spices on the meat and then tossed it into the pan once it was warm.
"For what reason did you google mourning and courting traditions from my time period," Crane asked. Abbie felt the blood drain from her face and pool in her feet. Crane stood and came to stand beside her, his hands behind his back. "If you were curious, you need only to ask. I thought I had proven time and again that I am more then willing to provide you with such information."
Abbie let out a breath of relief. "I was... just wondering when it would be appropriate to start trying to find you a girlfriend and what I should expect to go on."
Crane smiled affectionately. "Mourning was a tricky ordeal. Whilst women were expected to mourn for a period of two years, she could remarry if she wished or needed to. The same was for men. And rest assured, should any young woman catch my eye, I would bring her to you first and foremost to obtain your approval of the union."
Abbie removed the venison from the pan and moved to the fridge to get out salad mix and dressing. "Maybe I just wanted to find out on my own," she said with a shrug. Crane provided two plates and Abbie split the salad between them, then did the same with the venison. They retreated to the table and tucked into their food. She looked at him across the table. "Just make sure the board stays between you," she teased.
A faint blush kissed Crane's cheeks. "That may have been a custom in the Americas, but rest assured it was not a custom I partook in," Crane replied. He glanced up at her then quickly back down again. "Although, we spent a considerable amount of time trying to rescue my departed wife from Purgatory... While I was incredibly relieved that we eventually retained her freedom, our relations were turbulent at best because by that time, my heart had set itself on another. And then of course, there was her betrayal. For all intent and purposes, my mourning period for my departed wife is complete."
"Caroline," Abbie said.
"I'm afraid, even when Caroline was attempting to capture my attention, my heart already belonged to another," Crane replied, giving her a shy smile.
"Oh," Abbie said, surprised that her partner had actually been able to find such an attachment before Caroline had come into the picture. The only women he had really had contact with prior to getting involved with the re-enactors was herself and... "Jenny?"
Ouch, it hurt to even say that one out loud.
However, if his heart belonged to her sister, Abbie would gladly let her sister have that bit of happiness. If any two people deserved happiness it was Crane and Jenny.
Crane set down his fork, finished the bite of food he was chewing, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and rested his hands upon the table. "Lieutenant," he said gently. "I consider you a woman of incredible intelligence. Your help to me since awakening has been invaluable. You have introduced me to concepts which could confound some of the greatest minds of my time, I warrant. We have an impeccable bond which may at first have been for a higher purpose, but I feel has purposes both great and small."
Abbie lowered her own fork. Her heart was beating rapidly from a sudden burst of adrenaline. "What... What are you trying to say, Crane?" she asked, barely able to keep a waver out of her voice.
"I do hope you are purposely being obtuse, Lieutenant," Crane drawled, the shyness suddenly shifting to a look full of confidence and sexuality. "I think of you as an intelligent woman, but I should hope you are clever enough to realize that it is you which has captured the strings of my heart and have thusly plucked at them like an enchanted harpist."
She had something similar happen many times in her head.. Crane professing his attraction to her. Somehow, it had never been as eloquent in her own head. She had imagined the look on his face, but it had never greeted her with such intensity in her daydreams.
"Excuse me, please," she murmured and practically catapulted herself out the front door. The fresh air invaded her lungs and magically seemed to clear her head.
It was just her luck that she would panic when presented with the one person she actually wanted confessed to wanting her in return. Sure she had thought about it and even fantasized about it at times. But when he had confessed, all she could think about was how things had been in his home era. How, exactly could they make a relationship, a real relationship work?
Would he expect her to submit to him and be a perfect subservient wife providing him with children?
No. No. Crane had already proven that he would not require that kind of thing from her. She couldn't even bring herself to think it now that she remembered the way Crane and her always interacted. He may be old-fashioned but he was a modern thinking man for his time. And on more than one occasion he had corrected himself when assuming, as a woman, she only wished to marry and have children.
So she was worrying over nothing. Nothing. Her and Crane were good together. They worked well as partners in the field, why wouldn't that make equally good partners in other aspects?
"I apologize, Lieutenant," Crane said behind her. "I spoke hastily of my affections towards you. It is clear I misunderstood your queries into the customs of my times. Although I had hoped..."
Abbie turned and planted her mouth against his, effectively silencing his attempt at gracefully backing out of his confession. His hands came up to cradle her face as his lips parted to draw the lower of hers between his teeth. His tongue gently stroked her skin, coaxing her into fully exploring his mouth.
When she clinched the front of his coat, his hands drifted down her body, his nimble fingers somehow finding any flesh that was exposed between her face and waist. He looped a finger through a belt loop on either side of her jeans and pulled her flush against him.
Abbie wasn't sure how Crane managed it but he both exceeded and defied her expectations when it came to kissing. She had expected something chaste but capable of inciting desire. It had started that way, but now he was like a ravenous animal, intent on claiming her as his mate.
She was all for him doing precisely that but then he carefully broke off the kiss and stepped back. Crane drew in deep breaths, his cheeks were flushed as he fought to calm himself. "Lieu-" He stammered. "Abigail. I must know... your feelings for me..."
Abbie put a finger over his lips. She liked the way her name sounded, the way his voice just seemed to caress it. How could she put it into words, the way she felt about him? She remembered he had compared her to a harpist using the strings of his heart as her instrument. Her brain tried to find a way to work that in, but each one got kicked out for sounding too corny. Then again, Crane might actually like it.
She put a hand on his chest. "Crane." She cringed. "Ichabod. I feel the same way. I'm just... not ready to say the words just yet."
Crane took the hand on his chest and bowed over it. "Rest assured, Miss Mills. I am humbled by your affections and will be respectful of your boundaries. Any resulting relationship from today's confessions of feelings will progress at a speed in which you are completely comfortable."
"Well, I certainly hope we've established that a relationship has resulted," Abbie said with a grin.
Shy Crane reappeared. "I did not wish to be presumptuous. But, it has certainly been established Miss... Abigail. I must also remind myself that, as a modern woman, you expect your romantic partner to refer to you by name. It may take a few days to get into the habit, but rest assured, I shall do so."
"But it's still Lieutenant at work, Crane," Abbie said with a teasing smirk, smoothing down the collar of his coat.
Crane clasped his hands behind his back. "Abigail," he said carefully. "Would it be untoward of me to request an outing with you tomorrow?"
"No it would not," Abbie grinned. "What time should I pick you up?"
An enigmatic smile spread across Crane's lips. "I do believe it is customary for I to be the one to, as you say, pick you up. I shall do so in the morning at approximately 9 o'clock A.M. Dress comfortably."
"All right. I will be ready," Abbie said. "I can't wait to see what you have up your sleeves."
She stepped forward and chastely pressed her lips to his then ducked back inside to finish her salad.