Title: This Thing About Birthdays
Author: Andrea
Rating: R for smut, although there's none of that yet. Sorry. Soon, I promise.
Summary: It's Abby birthday, and Carter is just full of surprises. And this chapter is full of all kinds of ridiculous nonsense, but hopefully it will be some fun anyway. And it is the mother of all shout out chapters which amuses me, even if no ones else cares.
Author's Note: Sorry this one took so long. I hope it was worth the wait. But since it's devoid of smut or mush, I'm not sure that it is. Maybe you'll like it in spite of that. Anyway, I'm kinda caught up in "A Dream Life" right now, but I'll *try* to get back to this one more regularly from now on. Hope you enjoy.
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This Thing About Birthdays,
Part I
Chapter 6: Trivial Matters
"The Palmer House," Carter starts in his very best tour guide voice while ushering me in the door, "Was built by real estate mogul Potter Palmer, and it opened in 1871, just thirteen days before the Great Chicago Fire. The grand hotel was completely destroyed, but it was rebuilt right across the street from the original site, opening the next year as the first fireproof hotel in the country. As you can see the walls here in the lobby are marble, and the hand-painted French murals and gold-leaf ceilings give it a true elegance."
'True elegance?' Who says that? I know he's not gay, so … Is he drunk? I feel kinda giddy myself, but it's not inspiring me to wax poetic about froo-froo hotel history. I don't know how he even knows this stuff to begin with. I know he's lived here practically all his life, but really, the man is like a walking travelogue of the city. I should have known I wouldn't get through the night without a history lesson thrown in there somewhere. Seriously, he's beginning to sound like a brochure to boost tourism. Oh well, I suppose if the whole doctor thing doesn't work out, he can always look into a career in hotel management. Or become one of those tour bus drivers who chauffeurs unsuspecting out-of-towners around the city while boring his captive audience to death with mundane trivia of Chicago. But at least he'd be good at it. He'd --
"Abby? Heeeello? Earth to Abby." Huh. Oh right, yeah, my mind was wandering again. "What are you thinking about?"
"Hmm? Oh, nothing, just …" I could never explain it without sounding totally insane, better to just change the subject. "God, this place is huge."
"Yeah, four restaurants, a shopping center, several ballrooms, countless meeting rooms, a fitness center, indoor pool …"
He's rattling off the list of amenities as if he's intimately acquainted with them. "You spend a lot of time here?" I ask him.
"Nope."
"Then how do you know all this?"
"Research."
"Ah. You sure put a lot of time into planning this whole thing, didn't you?"
"Abby, you don't know the half of it. You have no idea what I had to go through with Weaver to get us the weekend off."
"You didn't sleep with her, did you?"
"No, of course not, Abby. In case you forgot … she's a lesbian."
"Did you promise her I'd sleep with her?"
"No, I stopped short of offering her sexual favors or promising her our firstborn."
"That's good, because she can't have this baby."
"Yeah, somehow I didn't think you'd want to trade the baby for a weekend in the lap of luxury. Besides, Kerry doesn't know about it yet, so she didn't think to ask."
"Lucky for the baby that we've kept it a secret. Otherwise its daddy might have given it away to anyone who asked. I mean, already today you tried to pawn off the whole paternity thing on poor, unsuspecting Henry, and now you tell me that you would have given our child to Kerry Weaver, of all people, had she only thought to ask. Talk about fairytales. Only that would have been one of those scary ones."
"Fairytales are scary? Cinderella? Sleeping Beauty? Snow White?"
"Uh, yeah … Haven't you ever read Rumplestiltskin? A scary little midget comes along and saves you by spinning straw into gold, but then takes advantage of you in a vulnerable moment and extracts a promise that you don't think you'll ever have to keep. Then he shows up and tries to take your baby. That's damn scary."
"I think maybe you're a just a little over-sensitive to baby-nappers, don't you think?" He reaches out and gives the bulge a little pat. "Besides, Weaver's hardly a scary midget."
"Yeah, but there's always a wicked witch. That's who Weaver would be."
"Oh, come on, Ab, she's not that bad. She did manage to get us this weekend together, didn't she?"
"And just how DID you convince her to do that?"
"I just appealed to her softer side."
"Kerry Weaver has a softer side?"
"Yes, believe it or not she does. She likes me, you know. And you too."
"Yeah, good thing you got to me first."
"Haha. Very funny."
"I thought so."
"Are we gonna stand here talking about Weaver all weekend?"
"Oh, absolutely not. In fact, I don't intend to talk about work at all for the rest of the weekend." Our little weekend getaway. The rest of my surprise. I thought a carriage ride proposal was enough of a surprise, but it turns out that the two of us getting to spend the weekend together in a posh hotel suite being pampered and spoiled is the rest of my birthday present. Not too shabby. This whole birthday thing is turning out to be a lot of fun, in fact. After the proposal, we'd ridden around in the back of the carriage, in our own little world, barely able to keep our hands off each other. Okay, we hadn't really been able to keep our hands off each other at all.
Most of the carriage ride after the proposal is one big blur to me. Well, a blur of hands all over each other's bodies and his lips pressed to mine. I haven't made out like that since … well, I don't know when. My lips are sore and swollen from all the kissing and I would undoubtedly find them to be as red as his, if I looked in one of these giant mirrors hanging in this palace of a hotel lobby. I'd been more than confused when the carriage pulled up to this place. To be honest, I hadn't really been paying attention to where we going. Bob the Homicidal Maniac/Handsome Cab Driver could have been ferrying us to our death, but I was too busy playing grab-ass with my new fiancé in the back of the carriage to notice. Luckily for us, Bob the maniac horseman just pulled up to the steps of one of the city's finest, and oldest, hotels. Just in time too, because things were getting a bit steamy in the back of that buggy. I know it's not unheard of for people to have sex in the back of a cab, but somehow, having sex in the back of a handsome cab with the whole world watching seems like the kind of thing you could get arrested for. And I didn't really want to spend the rest of my birthday in the slammer with changes of public lewdness hanging over my head.
"Are you thinking about taking up a career in flower arrangement?" Carter's voice drifts into my consciousness.
"No. Although that could be fun. I do think I have a flair for that sort of thing. Why do you ask?"
"Well … maybe because you've been staring intently at that vase full of flowers for the past five minutes."
"I was just … thinking."
"Only good things I hope."
"Well, I was thinking about you, so …"
"About me, huh? Abby, I think I see what you were 'thinking' about. And really, it's not nice to spy on our friends."
"What?"
"Spy … you know, 'watch covertly'. On our friends. You know, those people we like and respect."
"Thank you, Noah Webster. But I wasn't asking for a definition of the words. I meant, 'what the hell are you talking about?'"
"Uh … Susan and Luka. They're sitting right there in front of you. Don't tell me that you didn't see them."
"I didn't."
"Uh-huh."
"I told you, I was just thinking. You know, lost in thought. Day dreaming. I had no idea they were in there." Seems the flower arrangement that caught my eye is sitting on a low wall that separates the lobby from a corridor that runs in front of one of the restaurants in the hotel. And sure enough, from where I stand, there's perfect view of Susan and Luka through the glass walls that make up the entrance to the dining room.
"So you weren't hiding here behind this giant vase of flowers?"
"No, of course not."
"And I suppose you would NEVER spy on them."
"Of course I would. I just didn't realize they were there.
"Does that mean you are gonna spy on them now?"
"Damn straight. Now get behind that pillar. You're too tall, I don't want them to see you."
"But then I won't be able to see them."
"I'll tell you what they're doing."
"What are they doing now?"
"They're … eating."
"Wow, Ab, that's fascinating. Just wait until we tell everyone at work. Susan and Luka went to dinner … and they ate something. Truly shocking."
"I can't exactly help it that Susan has yet to launch herself over the table, completely undone by Luka's dark European good looks."
"Oh, you're so funny. Abby, now what are you doing? I don't really think you have to duck down behind the flowers since you've been standing here all this time and they haven't noticed."
"Haven't you ever watched TV? You can't just stand out there in plain site, you have to hide."
"Oh, so now we're TV sleuths?"
"Sleuths?" I roll my eyes at his choice of words.
"Yeah, you know, detectives. Like Columbo, Longstreet, McCloud and McMillan … Starsky & Hutch."
"More like Hart to Hart."
"What?"
"Hart to Hart … you know, Robert Wagner and that red-haired chick. They were married. And every time they had a dinner party, someone died." I explain.
"Oh yeah … they had that terrier named Max. Took it everywhere with them. Some people are just so insane with their pets."
"The dog wasn't named Max. That was the butler."
"No, the dog was Max."
"No, the dog was Freeway, the butler was Max."
"Who would have a dog named Freeway?" He asks.
"Who would have a butler named Freeway?" I counter.
"We had a butler named Freeman, once."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Abby, what does this whole conversation have to do with anything?"
"I don't know, you tell me. You're the one that brought up 70s TV trivia to begin with. I just want to get back to the 'surveillance' of Susan and Luka's date."
"Aha! I got it."
"Got what?" I ask him, although I'm not really sure why I want to know.
"Moonlighting."
"What?"
"Moonlighting. That's what this is like. You know, they were a couple of detectives, lots of sexual chemistry and witty banter. They would go out on jobs and lots of wacky hijinx would ensue."
"Thanks, Mr. Showbiz, but I was familiar with the show. I meant, what does it have to do with us? I don't see any wacky hijinx going on. But would you please get behind that post before they see you standing here waving your arms around like a crazy person?"
I obviously spoke too soon about the wacky hijinx because as Carter turns around to move behind the big post, he gives me an exaggerated arm wave, loses his balance and falls against the enormous display of flowers, sending the whole vase and it's fragrant contents slipping to the floor in a loud crash. Luckily the vase doesn't break, but about 40 galloons of water do come sloshing out.
"Uh-oh." He looks somewhat contrite, but mostly amused.
"Nice play, Shakespeare."
"That's a mess, Abby. You better clean it up."
"Me? I didn't knock it over. And I've got lots of witnesses to prove it." Yeah, seems like the whole hotel is looking at us at the moment.
"Well, just help me pick this thing up," he says as he's hunched over the big vase. "It weighs a ton. And I've got a bad back."
"And I've got a baby in my belly. I win."
"Oh sure, play the baby card."
"You're the one who doesn't want me getting out of bed on my own for fear that I might suffer a fit of 'hysteria' and fall over."
"Okay, fine. I'll pick it up. Throw out my back. And spend the rest of the weekend laid up in bed."
"Oh no, let me. I'll pick it up. Go into pre-term labor and spend the next four months laid up in bed. See? I still win."
"Fine, I'll pick up the vase. You pick up the flowers. Then you can put your so-called flair to good use."
"Are you suggesting I have no artistic talent?"
"Guys? Hey, guys." Oh, there's Susan. Wonder what brought her out here?
"What are you doing out here, Sus?" I ask her.
"Oh, I don't know. I kinda heard this huge crash and looked up and saw you two standing here."
"Yeah," Carter starts. "Abby was just out here sp--"
"Admiring this lovely flower arrangement." I gesture to the flowers that are now spilled all around my feet. "Until Carter ruined it." He just looks at me and sticks out his tongue. Nice. Very nice.
"Uh-huh. And here I thought maybe you were just enjoying the show."
"Well, we would have been if you'd been doing anything interesting." She rolls her eyes at me. "So how's it going?" I look over her shoulder and see Luka sitting at the table. I give him a little wave.
"Fine. Perfectly fine. The food's good , the conversation is interesting, and -- OH MY GOD!"
"What?" I look around. Carter's still piling up flowers on the ledge of the wall and I don't see anyone else hell bent on destroying hotel property so …
"Oh. My. God!" What is she looking at? I follow her eyes … to my hand. Oh, yeah. She must have caught sight of the ring when I waved to Luka or tucked my hair behind my ears. "That's what I think it is, right?"
I nod. Carter grabs my hand and grins. "Yeah … um ... we kinda … well." I stammer.
"We got engaged." John says, quietly, simply, in a soft voice. He sounds amazed. Like he can't believe his good luck. I turn to catch a similar look of awe on his face as he gazes down at me. I feel the tears returning. Of course, Susan looks a little tearful too.
"Oh … congratulations!" Susan says, throwing her arms around us in a group hug. Which is convenient since Carter and I each only have the one free arm to throw around her, what with our hands locked together. "Oh you guys, this so exciting." She practically squeals as she pulls back and grabs my free hand, holding it up to inspect the ring. "And this is beautiful."
"Thank you." We both say at the same time. Makes sense. He chose the ring, but it's mine now. There's a bit of a pause while we all stand around trying figure out what to do next.
"Um, do you guys want to join us for dessert?" Susan asks. I try to read her. Is she asking us to bail her out or not? Because the last thing I want to do is go in there and share our news with Luka. In the middle of his date with Susan. Yeah, hello awkward situation, nice to meet you.
"Well, we wouldn't want to interrupt." I say.
"Too late." Susan says with another little eye roll. Hey, I thought that was my trademark. "So you might as well come on in. Sit down. Have something to eat." Food? There's food in there? Probably lots of food. Okay, maybe I can embrace Awkward Situation if it means a snack. It's been all of three hours since my last meal, and those flowers Carter is STILL collecting are starting to look good to me.
"Well, maybe …" I start.
"Actually," Carter interrupts, "we should be getting up to our room." I must have given him a look while thinking of my lost dream of a snack. "Don't worry, room service is on the way."
"Room service?" Okay, I'm intrigued now.
"Uh-huh."
"Did you order a lot of food?"
"Yep."
"Dessert?"
"Oh yeah."
"Ice cream?"
"Of course."
"Yeah, Sus, we gotta go. You better get back to Luka, he's looking a little lonely in there. And he does have this thing about flirting with waitresses, so …" Before I can get any further, Carter grabs my hand once again and starts pulling me through the lobby, presumably toward the elevator. I wave at her over my shoulder.
"Happy birthday," she calls. "Oh, and Carter? You're welcome. You know, for all the help."
"Thanks, Susan."
"You owe me, you know." He waves his hand at her and give her a "yeah, yeah, whatever" look. She just smiles indulgently at us before turning and heading back to Luka … and dessert. I want some dessert. Ice cream. More cake. Fruit pastries. Pie.
"Pie?"
"What?"
"Did you order any pie?" I ask as we come arrive at the bank of elevators.
"Birthday pie?"
"What's wrong with that?"
"Nothing, I guess."
"Yeah, so did you order some?"
"I'm not telling you."
"Let me guess," I say dryly, "it's a surprise."
He just smiles at me as the elevator doors open. Once the other people file out he leads me in and almost immediately pulls me into a kiss. I'm really glad we are on the way to our room. And not just for the food, either. We manage to behave ourselves on the ride up to our room. But probably only because we were in the elevator with six other people. Not that it prevented him from pulling me up against him, my back to his chest, with his arm wrapped around me and resting lightly on my baby bump. Just a nice little innocent hug. So then why are my nipples hard and my panties damp? Judging by what I think I feel poking me in the small of my back, I assume I'm not the only one anxious to get to the room and, uh, 'test out' the bed. Make sure it works well. For sleeping, of course. You know, just in case we want to write a review of the accommodations.
The interminable elevator ride finally comes to an end, at one of the top floors, of course. He leads me down the hallway, and when he stops at a door, I wrap my arms around him from behind, slipping my hands into his front pockets.
"Abby! What are you doing? We're in the middle of the hallway. Can you at least wait until we get in the door?"
"I was just looking for the key." I look up at him and bat my eyelashes in my very best innocent look.
"The 'key,' huh? That's a new one."
"The key to the room."
"Well, you're not gonna find it there." He says, producing a key card from his jacket pocket. He opens the door and ushers me into our room. Rooms. Suite. Holy shit. This hotel suite is bigger than my whole apartment. Not to mention a hell of a lot more posh. Elegantly decorated and filled with vases of fresh cuts flowers, the room is absolutely beautiful. Lit by both some sort of soft ambient light and various candles all over the room --how did he manage that?-- this definitely looks like a place that I can somehow manage to spend the weekend in. The hall door opens onto a living area boasting an overstuffed couch and an entertainment unit that holds a giant TV. Not that I intend to spend a lot of time watching TV this weekend. Well, maybe that will depend on the movie selection. I turn to see a kitchenette tucked into the corner of this room with a table and chairs of some rich, dark wood sitting just in front of it. Through the large opening to the bedroom I catch sight of a four poster bed piled high with soft white linens and pillows. Beyond the bedroom, I can see a portion of the bathroom. Even from here I can see lots of glass and marble, and know it's undoubtedly going to be one of the nicest bathrooms I've had the pleasure of using.
"Wow. John, this is amazing."
"You like it?"
"Yeah. It's great. Of course, I'll never want to leave."
"Well, we have all weekend to enjoy it."
"Yeah …" I look around. There's one thing missing. "Um … where's the food?"
"What?"
"The food. You know, the room service you promised would be here."
"Actually I said it was ordered … it won't be here for a bit."
"But I'm hungry."
"Too busy shopping to eat?" He asks as he gestures to the pile of Bloomies bags that are piled up near the couch.
"No, we ate. It was really good, too."
"And you're hungry again?"
"Hello? Eating for two, remember?"
"Well, the food will be here soon and then you can eat enough for two, three … however many you've got in there."
"There's still just the one in there."
"Are you sure? Because with the food bill we have these days …"
"You were there for the sonogram last week. You did the first sonogram." He just looks at me for a minute.
"Oh, before I forget … here, open this."
"Don't you think you've already given me enough gifts? The cake, the carriage ride, the shopping spree, this weekend getaway … and oh yeah, this ring." I grin, looking at the beautiful diamond set into a simple platinum band.
"Don't forget the rose."
"Oh yeah, the rose."
"And, of course, that." He says, pointing to my belly.
"If the baby was supposed to be a birthday gift, your timing is way off. It's gonna be more like a birthday gift to yourself. I hope you aren't expecting anything else."
"No, a baby will be fine. But do you think you could have it on my birthday? That would be cool."
"Well, I don't know. I'll have a talk with my uterus and see if we can work something out."
"Okay." He looks at me expectantly.
"Well, I can't promise you anything."
"What? No, Abby, I was just waiting for you to open your gift. Come on, come on … open it." I love it when his face lights up like that. He looks just like a little kid. Preview of things to come, I guess. I think I know just what our child will look like, especially if it's a boy. I can just imagine a little Mini-John all excited about something, with that exact same look on his face. Oh, I hope this baby is just like his daddy. Sweet and funny. And of course, he'll be adorable. With that thought, I smile and turn to the task at hand. I open the beautifully wrapped gift to find a collection of lotions, soaps, bath beads and bubbles. Lots of bubbles.
"Just a little something to keep us occupied until the food gets here." I just look at him, so he continues. "You should see the bathtub here."
"Oh, I will. No question about it. So is this when you start 'making it up' to me?"
"Definitely."
"Well then, what are we waiting for? Let's go."
Ah, I do love a nice bubble bath. And it seems like I'm about to get the birthday gift that I've been waiting for all day. I can't wait.