AN: don't tell anyone, but I had so much fun with this part!
Things you said that I wasn't meant to hear
Her voice carries before the image comes up so he catches the coda of what is probably addressed to Clarke, dragging her feet somewhere around the house.
"Hi, sorry, we're still a little behind," she says when she appears on his screen with an apologetic smile.
"No worries, I can call back later," he suggests. Straining his neck to catch a glimpse of the clock behind his back he confirms he's the one at fault for calling earlier than planned - cringing because he didn't intend to seem (too) eager, but he'd be lying if he said he hasn't been rearranging the potted plants in the sunroom just to waste time.
Their daily calls are almost never programmed but after the first few weeks of random texts and late night conversations they fell into a routine of sorts, following mostly the pattern of Abby's shifts at the hospital. Sometimes she calls him in the morning as she drives back home and he fixes himself some breakfast; most often they chat before dinner and Marcus is yet to admit to himself those moments have become the highlight of his days - as Raven likes to tease him about.
Abby checks the clock as well, informs Clarke and rolls her eyes at the stampede-like sound of her daughter running down the stairs. She exchanges the phone for hairpins and rubber bands so the girl holds it as her mother works her hair into a complicated braid.
"Hi Sheriff," Clarke greets him, wincing from time to time when Abby pulls on a sensitive strand.
"Hi Clarke," he answers hiding from camera view the beer bottle he was sipping from. They smile at each other and to distract her he asks about the movie.
Wells (or rather his father) found two tickets for the latest Disney-Pixar premiere at El Capitan Theater and promptly invited her out. Marcus suspects Jaha Senior is not the only member of the household fallen captive of the Griffin women's charm, but to mention anything about it to Abby could potentially lift the lid of a can of worms she's not even ready to acknowledge - her now thirteen years old daughter going to date soon - with catastrophic consequences (from Clarke's point of view).
As soon as her mother ties her braid she jumps out of her seat and runs off again.
"So," starts Abby taking her place at the table much more relaxed, "how was Harper's first day?"
"It could have been better," he admits. Harper is one of the convicted juveniles in the County Jail rehab project they renamed the 100 and is working as an intern at the office. "We had a call for an eviction and she didn't flip them off," he explains only partly joking "so it wasn't a complete fu-"
"Clarke is here!" Abby yells cutting him short.
"F-Failure?" he finishes lamely furrowing his brow and they both chuckle at the clumsy save.
Clarke rolls her eyes at the phone camera as she passes behind her mother's back clipping her earring. "Like I've never heard the F-word, Mom!" she informs them.
Abby is about to retort - something - when the doorbell rings and she looks up at her daughter. "Clarke get a scarf, I'll get the door," she commands instead.
Marcus, who can only see Abby's expression change, guesses the teenager is not keen on scarves, but her mother is giving her the look (the one all mothers master within the first year) and sure enough he hears her stomping her feet back upstairs shortly after. He smirks, entertained.
"Sorry, I'll get the door and be right back," she says then beaming at him satisfied. The doorbell rings again and she fumbles with the screen then rushes to open the door, phone still in hand.
From what he can see - upside down and sideways - Jaha wears Berluti shoes and a grey suit that, to him, looks a bit too elegant for the task of driving teens to the theater. But he doesn't know Thelonious Jaha except from what he gathered from Abby's tales, and for some reason she doesn't talk about him much (despite him being very present in her and her daughter's lives). On this he found out quite early that Abby is very reserved. Maybe this means she doesn't talk about him either; or maybe - he wishes - she doesn't have anything to talk about Jaha. Jackson (her intern) comes out often enough in her tales that he knows how he likes his coffee. Either way, months after he shook his hand, Marcus can't quite pinpoint the man and what rubs him the wrong way about him.
Thinking she's muted her mic, Marcus raises his brow when they exchange pleasantries on the threshold and he can still hear them.
He reminds himself he should probably mute his audio and give them privacy but he's a curious monkey and Jaha is touching her sleeve onscreen so he keeps listening (it's her honest mistake anyway, he tells himself) because he just knows what's coming and can't stifle the frenzy that it elicits.
"I thought we could check out that restaurant they opened last month on Boulevard while the kids are at the movies," Jaha says, hands tucked in his pockets like some smooth dandy.
Abby straightens up, he sees her taking a hand to her face, probably to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear like she does when she's hesitating. "Oh, Thelonious, I... already made plans for tonight," she says mortified.
He's quite sorry he can't see the other man's expression but his hands stay in his pockets and he starts swaying on the spot as he asks slightly incredulous: "You have a date?"
He can't help holding his breath for her answer - perched on his seat, perfectly still.
"Sort of," she says softly, a tinge of fondness in her voice that makes his knees go weak. He tries not to dwell on that feeling, fearing he might have to acknowledge the stiffness in his shoulders whenever Jaha is around has a name (an irrational one).
Thelonious probably nods or looks at his feet, his hand comes out to smooth the front of his pristine jacket. "I didn't even know you were seeing someone."
"It's fairly recent," admits Abby, and he thinks it's exactly twelve days since she asked Clarke how to use FaceTime - and he purses his lips and grins to himself remembering her surprise when she first saw him again, beard and spectacles and old Diamondbacks' hoodie - so very far from the clean shapes and ironed suits of Doctor Jaha. She kept squinting at the screen and giggling, shaking her head at him and he thought she looked beautiful when her eyes crinkled in laughters. But Abby is the kind of woman that makes you question your entire set of priorities and makes you foolishly wish to be the source of such happiness (so he can't really blame anyone for trying).
Clarke - Abby's only indisputable cause of every and all happiness and heartache - squeezes between the two adults on her way out and her mother stops her, bending for a kiss, so he gets a glimpse of Wells waiting down the steps with a smug grin and a black SUV parked behind Abby's Ford Focus in her driveway.
"When would it be best to take Clarke back?" asks Jaha.
"Oh, I'll be home," says Abby reassuringly. Marcus grimaces three-hundred and sixty-four miles away, thinking about what kind of conjectures the other man's brain is concocting at the moment, but Abby is waving at them and closing her front door and is making her way back to the kitchen so he straightens up and pretends he didn't eavesdrop.
The phone spins and he gets a generous view of her decolleté when she retrieves a stand from the sofa and tries to set it on the kitchen table, her golden necklace now hosting two rings swaying in front of the camera when she bends at the waist.
She messes with the screen and smiles, and he knows she succeeded unmuting the sound. "Hey, sorry, I'm back."
He can't keep the straight face for long and breaks into a shiteating grin. "So... it's a date," he inquires sheepishly.
He witnesses her turn from surprised to confused and then gain a bit of color in her cheeks as she gasps: "How... Did you hear that?"
"You muted your audio not your mic," he explains laughing "I'm sorry," he adds quickly, but she's giggling too so she can't be that mad.
She isn't, in fact, she's mostly embarrassed and she hangs her head muttering about having her teenage daughter teaching her how to do that as a curtain of curls hides her from the camera. "Oh, Marcus, you know Clarke is in for a ride-long questioning session now, for that," he hears her say regretfully.
"Does it sound so bad we set a time to eat together?"
She shakes her head with her eyes closed biting her lip - in the motion the light catches the pin in her hair and he recognizes it as one of Clarke's. She's free of make-up and dressed down but her skin's aglow and the black top and jeans she's wearing are flattering her curves nonetheless - and tickling his fantasy probably more than if she were wrapped in a fancy dress. She's comfortable. He mentally slaps himself before he dares concluding this familiarity means something - anything. She is in her own home after all.
"All right, so what are you having tonight?" he asks preventing his mind to wander off.
She smiles at the screen getting up and about in the kitchen. "I'll have chicken breasts with curry and roast potatoes, I think... You?"
"Meatballs with tomato sauce and rosemary."
"Yummy," she comments over her shoulder as she stretches to retrieve a pan from the cupboard, her shirt riding up a bit.
He chuckles and gets up to business with a devious grin: "I'll tell you all about it."
She laughs and they keep talking and bantering while cooking, in their respective kitchens, in their respective States, but when they sit down to eat in front of the other, even if it's through a screen, he can't help mentally marking the day because it does feel like a date - only miles away.
AN2: I do love the beard! I also love the stubble, but Ian... and beard... and I'm gone so far down in the gutter, oh Lord! (ignore me)