Shopping and Dinner

A/N: Okay, so it has taken me forever to post anything new.  I can only beg forgiveness and point mutely to the empty chair where my muse usually sits to read over my shoulder and offer suggestions (and occasionally poke me in the back).  I have been so very busy with RL stuff, and usually by the end of the day am far too stressed, tired, and/or distracted to sit and write anything new.  My apologies for the long wait.  I hope you like this addition.  It takes place directly after A Little Less Lonely.

After searching for over an hour Sara finally decided to get Danny a nice silk shirt, one he could wear out to dinner with his wife, and a gift certificate for a nice, but not too expensive, restaurant.  She took fifteen minutes at the drug store picking out just the right card, much to Ian's amusement.  He watched her curiously for a minute or two as she began reading cards, sometimes with a chuckle, sometimes with a frown or snort of disgust.  The fifth one she picked up had her laughing, and she passed it to Ian.

"This is hysterical," she said.  "You've got to read it."

He took the card she had thrust at him and read it, grinning himself as he finished and carefully put it back in its proper place.  After that they ended up passing cards back and forth, laughing together, until Sara finally announced "This is it!" and they headed for the register.  Ian had never seen Sara so relaxed, so free of worry, as she had been while looking at cards.  He had never seen her laugh so freely either.  He had always vaguely wondered at the tradition of giving cards, but now he understood a bit more about it.  There were things people had difficulty saying to one another, but you could say anything with a card.

As they headed back out into the pouring rain once more, arm in arm beneath Ian's umbrella, Ian wondered about this new relationship with Sara.  When she had held herself aloof from him and his master, he had felt suffocated by the weight of his feelings for her, nearly crushed by an intangible force when all he could do was watch, protect, and yearn.  Then she had gained the Witchblade at last, and she and Irons had fought, and Irons had been killed.  In his shock and loss he had blamed her, and the conflicting emotions of love and hate had nearly torn him apart.  At the park when he had finally faced his hate and rage and realized that she was not the cause, not at fault, he had been cast adrift in confusion.  But today he had been at ease, almost at peace, with Sara and the world in general.  Content to merely have her arm in his, needing nothing more than a touch and an occasional smile, he wondered at the difference.

"Are you done with your shopping, Sara," Ian asked.

"Yeah," she replied.  "I think this will do it."

"Then will you do me the honor of allowing me to take you to dinner," he asked a little hesitantly.

"I'd like that," she said after a moment.  "But I'm not really dressed for it."

"Neither am I," he noted somewhat ruefully.  "I would like to take you someplace nice.  May I escort you home, so you can change, and pick you up later?"

"To be honest, Ian," she confessed, "I'd rather just go to a cheap diner for a burger and a coffee.  Don't get me wrong," she said as his expression changed to disappointment.  "I really appreciate the thought.  It's very sweet of you.  But I'm just not as comfortable all dressed up and worrying if I'm using the wrong fork as I am hanging out at a casual place with my elbows on the table."

"I think I understand," he said.

"Besides, it isn't the atmosphere that's important, it's the company," she said with a smile, squeezing his arm.  He smiled back, good humor restored.  It wasn't him she objected to, after all.

"As my Lady wishes," he said gallantly.  "Where to?"

"How about Murray's, just a few blocks up from here," she suggested.  "Good coffee, better milkshakes."

"Lead the way," he said.

Murray's wasn't crowded but it was fairly busy.  Sara chose a table towards the center of the restaurant, to Ian's dismay.  He would have preferred to have his back to a wall but Sara explained the service was better in the middle because if it got really busy the waitress sometimes got flagged down too many times to make it all the way to the back to bring you more coffee.  Knowing how much Sara loved her coffee, Ian bowed to her logic and sat, trying to ignore the crawling feeling between his shoulder blades.

"Hey, Detective," the waitress said cheerfully as she poured Sara a cup of coffee.  "Your usual?"

"No, Anne," Sara told her, "I'm gonna have a burger today, with the works, a chocolate shake, and fries."

"Sure thing," the waitress said, then turned to Ian.  "What about you, handsome?  Coffee?"

"Yes, please," Ian said, blushing a bit, not used to being referred to as "handsome".  "I'd also like a chicken Caesar salad and a glass of water."

"You bet," she replied, bustling off to place their orders without bothering to write it down.  Ian watched her, bemused, then turned back to Sara.

"You have a usual here," he asked, quirking up one eyebrow in question.

"I tend to have the same thing a lot," she shrugged.  "And I tip well.  That gets you remembered."

"I see," he said.  "So what is your usual?"

"Coffee and a salad," she replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief.  "Specifically the chicken Caesar."

"So I am having your usual, then" he asked, catching her amusement.

"Yup." She grinned.

When their meals arrived Ian had to admit the salad was better than he had expected, and Sara was thoroughly enjoying her burger and milkshake.  Anne had thoughtfully brought Ranch dressing for Sara's fries, and Ian finally agreed to try the dressing on a fry.  He was dubious about the combination but found himself liking it quite a bit.  Every time Sara looked away he snagged another fry and dipped it into the Ranch, and Sara would glance back to catch him stuffing it into his mouth.  She would quirk an eyebrow in amusement but say nothing about it.  It got to be quite the game, until Sara ran out of fries and Ian had to flag down Anne and order more.  Then Sara stole Ian's fries.

The Witchblade swirled and hissed on Sara's wrist, and Ian watched her intently as her eyes glazed a bit while a vision was thrust on her.  It lasted only a few moments, then Sara shook her head sharply and looked over at him.

"Something's about to happen," she told him.

"Do you know what," he asked, alertness and tension radiating from him.

"The images were too confused, too short," she said, shaking her head.  "I think whatever it is will happen here, and happen soon."

"Do you wish to leave," Ian asked.

"No," she said.  "I think I'm supposed to be here."

The bells hanging above the restaurant's front door chimed, causing Sara to jump slightly.  Ian was too disciplined to jump, but his wary gaze rested on the man who had walked in.  He seemed tense, and Ian thought he could make out the outline of a shotgun barrel under his long coat.  Sara turned her head, looked the newcomer over quickly, then turned away before she was seen staring.  She looked at Ian, seeing the same realization in his eyes.

"That was fast," she said quietly.  Ian nodded.   "Let's go pay our bill," she suggested, pulling a few bills out of her pocket as she rose.  Ian was at her side and they approached the front counter where the man with the shotgun had stopped.  He glared at them, took two steps back from the register as he couple approached, then in one smooth move pulled the shotgun out from under his coat and pointed it at them.

"Nobody move!" he shouted, then pointed the gun at Anne who had just come out front from the kitchen.  "Open the register and the safe.  I want all the money.  Now!"

Anne hurried to the register, pale and clearly terrified, pulling money out and shoving it across the counter at him.  He stuffed it into his coat pocket, still pointing the shotgun one-handed at her.  Ian and Sara exchanged a look, waiting.  When the register was empty of cash Anne stepped back and waited.

"I said the safe too," the robber growled.

"Noone here has the combination," she said.

"Bullshit," he growled, bringing his other hand up to the gun and putting it against his shoulder, preparing to fire.  Anne shrank back.  In that moment he was focused on Anne the robber wasn't paying any attention to Ian or Sara.  Sara moved to his left and pulled her pistol, aiming it at the robber's head.  Ian moved to his right and grabbed the barrel of the shotgun, forcing it upward as the robber pulled the trigger so the shot went into the ceiling, scattering bits of yellowed acoustic tile everywhere.  As the robber turned in surprise to Ian, the assassin hit him hard in the face and yanked the shotgun from his grasp.  As Ian disarmed the robber Sara moved forward, her pistol at his head.

"Police," she spat at him.  "You're under arrest."

The robber turned to look at her, starting to raise his hands, then lunged at her.  Sara stepped back, still pointing her gun steadily, as Ian grabbed him by the collar and yanked him backwards hard enough to choke him and pull him off his feet.  He landed on the ground on his back, coughing and gasping.

"Anne, call 911, tell them an officer needs assistance," Sara instructed the astonished waitress as Ian pulled the robber to his feet and pinned his arms up high behind his back.  The robber yelped as his muscles were strained and the joints threatened to pop out in his shoulders, and Ian grinned evilly.

Sara had finished reading the robber his rights when a police cruiser pulled up outside the diner, lights flashing, and two officers hurried in.  Sara showed the senior officer her badge while the other handcuffed the robber and hustled him off to the squad car.  Then the process of collecting everyone's statements started.  By the time they could finally sit back down, the remains of Sara's milkshake had melted and Ian's fries were cold.  Anne came over with fresh coffee and fresh fries a moment later.

"Your meal is on the house," she said.  "So you better order dessert.  Compliments of all of us with our thanks."

"It was our pleasure," Ian said, smiling at Anne, and she blushed.  Sara took that moment to steal another one of his fries.

"So what'll you have for dessert," Anne asked.

"Hm, I think I'd like the apple pie, warmed, with vanilla ice cream on the top," Sara decided.

"I would like the hot fudge sundae," Ian said.  "With extra whipped cream."

Anne nodded and left.  Ian looked over at Sara who was staring at him with an eyebrow raised.

"What?" he asked.

"I never pictured you as the extra whipped cream type," Sara said, amused.

"I happen to like whipped cream," he replied, looking at her from beneath his eyelashes, one curling lock of hair falling in front of his eyes.  "You would be surprised at how many things you can do with whipped cream," he finished, his voice almost a purr.

Sara stared at him for a moment, shocked at his suggestive tone.  The Witchblade took advantage of the moment of distraction to send her an image of Ian standing above her, both buck naked, holding a can of spray-on whipped cream and a big grin.  She choked and jerked back from the vision, glaring down at the gently swirling red stone on her wrist, her cheeks coloring.

"Another vision, Sara," Ian asked, concern coloring his voice.

"Not exactly," she replied, looking back up at him.  "More like the damn thing is teasing me."

"Ah," he said, curious as to what the Witchblade could have shown her to make her react in such a fashion, but letting it drop as he sensed Sara's discomfort.  At that moment Anne put their desserts down in front of them.  Sara's ice cream was slowly sliding off the crust as it melted from the heat of the pie, and Ian's sundae was nearly buried in whipped cream, with two cherries on top.  Sara watched as Ian picked up one cherry by the stem and sucked the whipped cream off of it before popping the whole thing into his mouth.  Moments later he pulled the stem back out, neatly tied in a knot, and put it on his plate.

"You're not eating your pie," Ian noted as she continued to stare, unable to shake the brief image the Witchblade had thrust into her head.  She shook herself, blushed, and picked up her fork.  Ian chuckled to himself, able to guess something of what the Witchblade had shown her from all her blushing.  Perhaps she knew something of the uses of whipped cream after all, he mused.  He decided to have some fun, his impish side, rarely indulged, coming to the fore.  He stuck his finger into the whipped cream, swirling it around, then sucking it into his mouth, sliding it back out cleaned of the cream and glistening with his saliva.  Sara was blatantly staring now, and something in her eyes had changed subtly.  He picked up his spoon as if he hadn't noticed and began eating the sundae.  Sara shook herself and returned to her pie.

When dessert was done Ian escorted Sara back home.  She was thoughtfully quiet most of the way, and he respected her silence and left her to her thoughts.  He had many of his own to sort through as well.  As he said goodnight to her at her door, the proper gentleman, she stopped him with a hand on his arm as he turned to leave.

"Thank you for helping with the guy at the diner," she said.  "And for everything else today.  I had a really good day."

"You are most welcome, my Lady," Ian replied.  "I had a really good day too."

Before he could turn away she leaned over and kissed him lightly on his lips.  His eyes flared wide in surprise at her action, then he grinned at her, inclined his head and said, "Goodnight, my Lady."

"Goodnight, Ian," she replied.  She watched him as he turned and sauntered down the hall, then closed and bolted her door when he was out of sight.  She had a very hard time falling asleep that night.