Title: My Best Friend's Friend's Wedding
Author: Mindy35
Rating: K
Disclaimer: Tina's.
For: hamnapkin
Prompt(s): wedding + dance
Spoilers: nope
Pairing: Jack/Liz
Summary: Jack gives into the pull.
-x-x-x-
When Liz asked him to the wedding, he said no. At the time, he barely thought about it. She asked him weeks before, quite casually, during one of their many walk-and-talks. And she seemed to just shrug off his instantaneous refusal. He'd told her he had an important meeting that night, it was imperative that he attend. And the subject was thereby changed to his plans, his hopes, his pursuits.
Jack assumed Lemon would just invite someone else to accompany her to her friend's wedding, probably some other friend who could take the same delight as she did in mocking the proceedings. But when he ran into her earlier that day, she told him that she'd decided to just go alone, that she was okay with that.
She'd been on his mind ever since.
Because it occurred to Jack then how often he used to attend functions alone, how much that had changed in recent years. Not that he ever particularly minded flying solo. In fact, there were certain advantages to it. And there was always some supermodel or starlet or socialite he could call upon for a no-strings-attached night out, if that's what he required. Now, however, things were different. Now, he had Lemon. If he wanted someone at his side, he generally asked her. He always assumed she would be free, assumed she would be happy to accompany him. And he always assumed he would enjoy himself if she was with him. Which was more than he could say about the supermodels and so forth.
Perhaps also, she had assumed that he would return the favor if and when she asked. This was the first time she ever had. And he couldn't help feeling he'd let her down in some silently agreed upon way. It took longer than it probably should've, considering how completely he knew her, but Jack realized that Liz had asked him to be with her as protection, to be her buffer against the outside world. To be her one friend in a throng of relative strangers.
He couldn't shake the image from his mind. The image of her dressed up and alone in a chic, celebrating crowd. He couldn't seem to shake the idea of her trying to make awkward chitchat with the other guests, of her following around the trays of finger food and sitting by herself at the reception. All day, he tried to assuage his guilty conscience by telling himself that Lemon was a grown woman who knew how to take care of herself. On the way to his important dinner, he'd tried to reason with himself that she went to college with some of the guests, that she would no doubt find someone to attach herself to. Sitting at the enormous table with all the influential and notable men, he tried to convince himself that Liz would end up having a good time, despite her ingrained reluctance.
Unfortunately, Jack knew her far better than that. He knew how ill at ease Lemon was in large crowds, how ill equipped she was to recommend herself to others, despite all the wonderful qualities he knew she possessed. He knew that she seldom made a good first impression despite being an entertaining companion and delightful woman. Most importantly, Jack knew where he wanted to be. Where he needed to be. Where he belonged. And it wasn't where he was.
He didn't belong in a fancy restaurant sipping fancy scotch with a bunch of balding men, idly discussing whatever the hell they were meant to be discussing. It wasn't right that he was there, puffing on a cigar and vainly attempting to focus on successfully synergizing backward overflow when what he should've been doing, what he really wanted to be doing was holding Lemon's hand. Figuratively speaking.
Because Liz had only asked of him what he'd asked of her. To be there. At her side. As a friend. In fact, she was the first woman in years with whom he could honestly say there were some rather significant strings attached. They hadn't been there at first. But they were there now. Otherwise he wouldn't feel the pull he undoubtedly felt. Strangely enough, Jack found he didn't mind those strings. He didn't mind that pull. Not at all. He rather liked it. He agreed with it. And in the end, he gave into it, without further thought.
"How's the wedding?" he asks when Lemon answers her phone.
She groans in response: "If anyone makes me try and catch a bouquet I'm gonna shoot myself."
Jack chuckles lowly. "I want you to do me a favor."
"What's that?" she mumbles, something in her mouth.
"I want you to put down the fork," he says slowly, carefully: "and move away from the cake."
He can almost hear her eyes narrow.
"How do you know I'm eating cake?" she mutters, probably licking her lips.
Jack is silent.
"Okay," she admits quickly: "I'm eating cake."
Jack smirks and continues: "Listen to me, Lemon. Because I want you to quit feeling sorry for yourself--"
"How do you know I'm feeling sorry for myself?" she interjects, a little sharply.
"How many slices of wedding cake have you ingested?" he answers.
"Okay," she admits with a defeated shrug: "I'm eating cake and feeling sorry for myself. It's a wedding, what the hell else am I s'posed to do?"
"You're supposed to dance," he tells her encouragingly.
"I broke a heel," she says, glaring down at her discarded shoes: "And there's no one here to dance with. Everyone's paired off like they're heading for the freaking Arc, Jack."
Jack releases a sigh. "You need to live a little, Lemon. There's no point whatsoever in getting all dressed up in a passably stylish frock, if you don't intend to dance."
Liz pauses, mutters suspiciously: "How do you know that what I'm wearing is only passably stylish?" She cranes her neck, scanning the crowd: "Are you pulling a Rupert Everett on me here?"
"I have no idea to what you refer," Jack replies.
Her voice becomes more eager as she glances over one shoulder: "Jack, are you…are you here?"
He smiles into his phone. "I hate to disappoint you, Lemon--"
She slumps a little in her seat. "Oh."
He leans over her other shoulder. "So I won't."
She whips round to face him, eyes wide and lips parted.
"Sorry I'm late," he murmurs, disconnecting his phone.
"What're you doing here?" she gasps: "What happened to your important dinner?"
Jack grins, eyes twinkling at her surprise. "I told them I had a better offer."
She shakes her head, biting on her lower lip to stem the awed delight in her smile. Her expression seems to falter for a moment when she asks: "Hey, wait -- this isn't the part where you break it to me that you're gay, right?"
Jack moves round in front of her. "I think you know me better than that."
"I do…" she muses, smoothing a hand over her dress.
"No," he says, holding a hand out to her: "this is the part where I ask you to dance and I don't take no for an answer."
She casts a glance at the darkened dance floor, littered with embracing couples. "This is a slow dance."
Jack blinks languidly. "So it is."
He reaches down, picks up her hand and brings her to her feet. Her fingers rest loosely in his as he leads her to the dance floor and steps in close. He keeps one hand joined with hers and rests his other hand on her hip.
"Hey…Jack…?" Liz stops him, looks him in the eye, mouth curved into a soft smile. "Thanks for coming."
Jack nods and leans in close as they start to sway to the music. "All you ever have to do is ask."
END.