Disclaimer: Not mine. Disney's and PL Travers. Of which I am neither.
Author's Note: Pure, unadulterated fluffiness prompted by laranjones1986. Hope you like it ;) Takes place post my story, "Rehabilitation" but it's not necessary to read that one if you don't want to.
John set a spoon at each place setting at the table and looked up at his father. "Aunt Jane isn't coming tonight?" he asked.
Michael Banks shook his head at the youngest of his twins as he set a plate down at the head of the table. "Your aunt has other plans tonight," he told him. "Annabel! Georgie! Supper!"
"But she always has supper with us on Friday nights!" John frowned as he took his seat. His sister Annabel and little brother Georgie came thundering into the dining room, Georgie skidding to a stop in socked feet.
"Where's Aunt Jane?" Georgie asked.
Michael chuckled as Ellen brought supper in. "You three don't miss a beat, do you?" he asked them.
"Is she out with Jack?" Annabel asked slyly from her seat across from John. John's jaw dropped and Georgie bounced excitedly in his seat at the prospect.
"Now, is that any of your business?" Michael teased her. "At any rate, she'll be here for breakfast in the morning. And don't even think about peppering her with questions!" he added at Annabel's smile.
As it turns out, Jane Banks was not out with Jack-at least, not yet. She was in her flat, staring at herself in the full-length mirror, heart pounding.
Jack would not tell her where they were going, only that "'s not anywhere fancy, not on a lamplighter's pay," he'd said, sounding apologetic. "But it does involve you ridin' my bicycle a bit to get there."
Could I ride on Jack's bike in a skirt? Jane held up the blue pleated skirt to herself in the mirror. It stopped just above her knees. Was it possible to be ladylike on a bicycle in that? She glanced at the clock. Jack had said he finished with his rounds at 7:30, and it was nearly 7 now. "Ugh!" she said aloud in frustration, tossing the skirt and herself onto her bed with a flop. She stared up at the ceiling. Why was this so complicated?
Because this is your first 'real' date with Jack, her conscience reminded her. Not just walking with him down the lane while he lights the lamps, but your first honest-to-goodness outing with him.
Jane closed her eyes, remembering another time when there'd been someone in dire straits over a first date…but it hadn't been her...
"Jane!"
Jane turned from the factory door to see her roommate, Katherine Reilly, waving at her frantically. She nodded goodbye to her workmate and jogged over to Katherine, who looked positively terrified. "Kate?" she asked. "What's wrong?"
"Your brother-"
Jane's heart dropped to her stomach. "What? What about Michael? Is he-"
"Oh, gosh!" Kate smacked her forehead with an open palm. "Jane, I, no, I'm sorry. He's fine, absolutely fine. I just-"
Jane breathed a sigh of relief even as she laughed at her friend. "Kate, you're too young for a heart attack. Slow down!" She had a feeling she knew where this was heading.
"Michael, he," Kate took a breath, let it out slowly, blowing a strand of her brown hair out of her face. "He asked me to dinner this evening."
Finally! Jane squealed, grabbing her hands. "Kate! Really? That's wonderful-and it's about time, if you ask me!"
"It's not wonderful!" Kate argued. "I haven't a thing to wear and I-"
Jane slipped her arm through her roommate's. "Kate. Breathe. Let's go back to the flat and see about getting you ready." She grinned. "I'll fill you in on all my brother's secrets."
A knock on her door jolted her out of her thoughts. Oh gosh…well, it's too late now. Jane grabbed the blue skirt and a short sleeved, white collared shirt with blue buttons and put them on quickly. Her hair would just have to go as it was, she thought, hopping on one foot to get into her flats as she made her way to her door.
She paused at the door, smoothing her skirt. Then, she opened the door.
Jack stood there, a single yellow tulip in his hand. He had been staring at the floor, but now his eyes flickered up Jane's outfit to her face, and he smiled shyly. "'Lo," he told her.
Jane blushed even as she took in the fact that Jack was wearing mostly the same thing he did every day, charcoal-colored jacket, red waistcoat and white shirt...and suddenly wondered if she was overdressed. "Should I…" she asked, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles in her sleeves and skirt, "that is, am I…"
"You look lovely," Jack interrupted. He grinned at her, offered her the tulip with his good right hand. She accepted it, and his arm when he gestured to her.
Michael could hear the children upstairs laughing and giggling in the bathroom as Ellen filled the tub. He sat at his desk, his hand absentmindedly sketching on a plain piece of paper. He'd learned to keep the regular paper away from anything related to the bills or finances. The clock chimed the half hour behind him. He blinked and looked down at the paper.
In full detail, a view of the Tower of London with the River Thames in the foreground. A bench, and a single lamppost. Pencil lines sketched in a ghost of the Tower in the river.
He knew the scene perfectly.
"You weren't joking when you said that pub had the best fish and chips," Kate grinned as she and Michael walked along the river. Across the way, the Tower of London loomed over the Thames, reflected in the water below. "I'm kind of glad our dinner reservation fell through."
He ran a hand through his hair, embarrassed. "I'm so sorry about the dinner reservation, I really don't know what happened-"
"Oh Michael, stop apologizing," she said, stopping mid-stride and putting a finger to his lips. It was a bold move and she dropped her hand immediately. "I'm so sorry, I-"
Michael grinned. "Now who needs to stop apologizing?" he teased her. He picked her hand up, intertwined their fingers. "Seriously, though…" They continued walking. "I really don't know what happened with that dinner reservation. I specifically recall making it for the 8th-"
Kate burst out laughing and he looked at her, mildly affronted. "I'm sorry," she apologized again. "Michael, today is the eighteenth. Not the eighth."
His jaw dropped and his face turned red even as Kate's gentle laughter echoed along the river. "Your sister did say you could be absentminded sometimes," she teased. "It must be that artist's mind of yours. Too busy seeing the beauty around you in pencil sketches and watercolor than seeing the real world."
Michael took her hand. "Things seem awfully really right now," he admitted. "And the only beauty I see right now is you."
"Hold on, here," Jack told Jane. "Gets a bit rough up ahead." The bicycle rattled over a particularly rough patch and Jane held onto Jack's coat in a white-knuckle grip as they rode down the hill. "Give me a hand?" Jack requested, placing one of her hands on his handlebar to help him steady the bike. His left hand just couldn't get a solid grip on it with all the rattling and jolting on his bad shoulder. Jane held on and helped him steer as they came to the bottom of the hill. "Left," Jack told her, and she helped him turn it, now coasting easily down a much smoother stretch.
"Thanks for that," Jack told her. "Forgot about that bit when I picked the spot I did. Jus' up ahead now," he added.
"I don't think I've ever been to this part of London," Jane noted, watching the scenery roll past them.
"Nice thing 'bout bein' a leerie," Jack told her, "there's a lot of London to be found on a bicycle." She laughed and he grinned. "And, we're here." He stuck his feet out to put the brakes on and dragged them to a stop.
They were parked in front of a brick overhang. A car rolled over on the road above them. Jack reached for her with his not so good hand, and she grasped it gently, noticing his other hand held a small basket. They walked hand-in-hand under the overhang into the space beyond it.
"Ohh…" Jane breathed, looking around. Jack grinned.
"They were goin' to make it into a roundabout," he explained, leading her forward. Cobblestones curved around a small sidewalk and a big cement fountain. Lampposts ringed around the sidewalk, all lit up in the fading light. "Not sure why they stopped. Us leeries, well, we use it for a bit o' kick and prance."
She looked at him, laughter in her eyes. "Kick and what?"
He ran a hand through his hair under his hat. "Dance," he explained. "Leerie speak, you say-know what, never mind." He led her to the edge of the fountain and sat down, patting the space next to him.
Jane perched on the edge beside him, surveying their surroundings. "It's quiet," she noted. "You can hardly hear the city noise."
He nodded, reaching into the basket with his good hand. "Well, I, you know, I wanted to take you to someplace quiet and romantic-like," Jack explained hastily, rummaging around. "Course on a lamplighter's pay, 's a bit hard to find a place-"
"Jack, it's perfect," Jane cut in, placing her hand on his knee. He glanced at her in surprise; it was a pretty forward move. "We could have sat on my steps and it would've been just right, because it would've just been you and me."
Jack coughed out a short laugh, feeling his ears tinge pink. "Well then, Jane Banks, dinner is served," he announced, a little too loudly, producing two cucumber sandwiches and a bottle of milk. "Hard to find something that'll travel on the back of a bike," he admitted, passing her a sandwich. "Made 'em myself. Sure it wasn't what you were expectin'-"
"Jack, you really need to stop apologizing," Jane told him. She took a sandwich and set it on her lap. She waved a hand around their surroundings. "This is perfect," she told him again. "I see how much thought you put into this," she continued. "And I love it." She reached for his left hand and held it while they ate, passing the milk back and forth, laughing at Jack swinging his legs like a little boy as they hung over the edge of the fountain.
Michael looked in on his sleeping children. All three of them were completely out, John snoring quietly in his bed. He left the nursery door open a crack and made his way to his own room. He sat on the edge of the bed. After a moment, he reached over to the side table, picking up a framed photograph. Michael trailed his finger down the edge of the frame, looking into the beautiful face of his wife, Kate. Leaning back against the pillow, he held the photo to his chest, remembering.
"Your sister is going to think we ran away together," Kate told him as they slowly made their way back along the road to the flat she shared with his sister.
"She's not our mother," Michael said flatly. "And what I do with you is my business." His jaw dropped as he realized what he'd just said.
"Michael Banks, I never!" Kate was laughing so hard she had to wipe away tears. After a moment, Michael joined in the laughter, eliciting very confused looks from passersby. When they finally calmed down, they were standing in front of Jane's building. "I really did have a wonderful time tonight," Kate told him.
"I did, too," Michael agreed. "I, um," he tugged at his collar, "don't suppose you'd want to go again sometime?"
To his surprise, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "As long as your sister says it's okay," she teased him, waving at him as she went into the building.
He touched his cheek lightly with his fingers, a smile playing on his lips.
"Oy!" Michael jumped and looked up to see his sister poking her head out her window. He ran a hand through his hair, embarrassed. "You're out awfully late!" Jane called down to him cheekily.
"Good night, Jane!" Michael yelled back up to her, and she was laughing as she closed the window.
The stars were out when Jack and Jane finished their simple supper. They sat next to each other in silence, shoulders touching, legs swinging together over the edge of the fountain, enjoying each other's company.
Jane glanced over at Jack with a grin, then hopped off the fountain, making her way over to one of the lamps. Jack cocked his head sideways, watching her. She smiled at him as she grabbed the post with one hand, swinging around it with a laugh.
She looked back at him. "You say you know how to dance?" she asked him.
"I….not like….not like real dancin'," Jack stammered, suddenly feeling very self-conscious and very aware of his left arm. "Jus' a bit o' play, really."
Jane skipped over to him, grabbed his right hand and pulled him off the fountain's edge. "Dance with me?" she requested.
"I-I dunno, Jane, with m' arm how it is…"
Jane took his left hand gently, placed it on her waist. "That's all the farther it needs to go," she told him, looking into his eyes. "Does that bother it?"
He paused, feeling. "'S not bad," he admitted with a shy smile.
"Definitely not," Jane agreed as they moved in a simple box to a song only the two of them could hear. Emboldened, Jack reached around her waist with his right hand, pulling her closer as they danced under the lamplight.
When Jane let herself into her brother's house the next morning, it was still quiet. She wondered if Ellen was making coffee and decided to head to the dining room. As she stepped over the threshold, she yawned. It had been of a walk back to her flat, not that she'd minded it or the company.
"Were you out late last night, Jane?" Michael teased her from behind the morning paper.
Jane stuck her tongue out at him.
Author's Note II: The spot Jack and Jane go to is meant to be the "Trip a Little Light Fantastic" locale from the movie. And the jab at Michael keeping his paper separate from his bills comes from a conversation with my husband-he's convinced if Michael would quit doodling on random paper, he wouldn't have had the problems he did in the first movie ;)