Disclaimer: I own nothing and profit none.
A/N: A full chapter at last! And a long one - we have a lot of lost time to make up for now!
Total Word Count: 20,992
Will took another feeding in the afternoon, this one in the mysterious eastern caverns. Despite his best efforts, there was still a bit in the middle where he could have sworn that the corridors magically rearranged themselves. At least he got the opportunity to sound out the two other team members on their opinions concerning striped hallways.
Best of all, with the help of his new co-conspirators, he made it back to his Underground Office in a reasonable period of time. Giving him long enough to draft a mock Day Off report for Magnus. Even the threat of paperwork was worth the appearance of that dimple – plus he had a reputation for 'cheekiness' to uphold.
With careful calculation, he set the report to be sent after they should already be at dinner. The less time that she had to plot revenge, the better, as far as he was concerned. After a moment's thought, he CC'd Declan as well. He would probably be greatly amused, even if that wouldn't impact his intervention in whatever comeuppance Magnus might have in store.
Effective Date:
Recipient(s): Dr. Helen Magnus
CC: Declan MacRae
Report Title: Observations Upon the Utilization of the 'Day Off' Phenomena
Att: 'Day Off' Report (pdf file)
Abstract
The pursuit of the 'Day Off' phenomena (hereafter referred to as A Day Off) has been a long one for many in the Sanctuary organization (hereafter referred to as The Sanctuary). In the interests of fair and accurate reporting, Dr. William Zimmerman (hereafter referred to as The Observer) undertook a mission of infiltration to document heretofore unknown details of A Day Off. This reports serves to document these details with such observations as: A Question Upon Interactive Sightseeing, The Nature of Leisure Approached in Both the Interior and Exterior of a Domicile, Musings Upon the Procurement of Comestibles, and The Afternoon Nap: Postulations Upon Location and Length.
Full report attached.
After he put the finishing touches on his mock report, he logged off the computer and settled back to wait for Magnus. His note hadn't been specific as to where or how or what dinner was to involve, but Will figured that by now the two of them were nothing if not excellent at improvisation. So it was that Magnus stepped through the interconnecting door to the sight of Will leaning out of his Underground Office window, squinting in the direction of the atrium.
"Should I ask?" brought him back inside, to turn and smile at her.
"I was thinking maybe a cold supper in the atrium, but it looks like it's raining over there right now."
"Yes, I believe a storm was scheduled for this evening," Magnus frowned in thought. "At this time, it should be less disruptive for residents."
"One day Henry will be able to explain that weather mapping program on a level I can understand," Will shook his head. "Probably sometime after he stops saying 'cool' every other word when I bring it up."
"Not any time soon, then," she laughed. "Has this entirely derailed our plans?" she ask archly.
"Not in the least. Just the location," he thought for a moment, gazing idly back out the window, until an idea crossed his mind. It was a little unconventional, for him, but it might work. "Come on," he gestured ahead of him towards the doorway to the main hall.
"At what point do I get to know our destination?" she asked, pausing a second so that they were walking side by side down the corridor.
"Where would the fun be in that?"
"Well, it can't be too far away," she surmised snidely, "or you wouldn't be so confident about reaching it."
"What was that? You wanted us to take the long way around?" Easily, he dodged the finger sneaking it's way towards his ribs. "Declan talks too much," he grumbled.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Magnus said airily, stepping into the elevator ahead of him and ostentatiously not revealing how else she could have come to know that he was ticklish.
Will managed to shield his level selection from her eyes, but when they stopped at the first lower level, it was fairly obvious where they were heading.
"I'm going to take a wild guess and say our destination is the kitchens?" she nudged him with a shoulder as they exited the elevator.
"You are terrible at being surprised, aren't you?" was all that he would say.
"Actually, yes," she admitted. "Pleasant ones, anyway. I always seem to stumble in on them."
"Stumble?" he pursued, intrigued.
"Hm. There was a surprise party planned for my 150th birthday," Magnus shrugged. "I'm still not certain why Henry thought I wouldn't notice the requisition for balloons, streamers, and an organ."
"An organ?" he repeated, before shaking his head. "Never mind. Perhaps it's not that you can't be surprised, just that you're surrounded by poor planners. Very poor," he reiterated, contemplating Henry filling out the requisition forms to hand over to the woman in question. He figured that the Big Guy must have smacked him upside the head but good that time. Letting the yawing pit in his stomach close again, the one that opened every time he was reminded that there would be no more slaps to the back of his head or unexpected three a.m. carafes of coffee, he opened the door for Magnus to a small, side kitchen, waving her through in his best impersonation of a flamboyant maitre d'. Stifling the smile that he could see in the stress of her lips and the flashes of her dimple, she passed him and leaned against the island in the middle of the kitchen expectantly.
Carefully shutting the door behind them - and hoping that everyone stayed out of here and in the larger, main kitchens - Will pulled out one of the bar stools situated at random intervals around the island in invitation.
With a wary look, Magnus sat down, perching on the edge as though ready for anything. He managed not to roll his eyes. Barely.
"You might want to get a little more comfortable than that," he remarked, rounding the island to rummage through one of the refrigerators.
"What are you doing?" she finally gave in and asked directly.
"I promised you dinner, right?" he turned around and pointed to the green pepper he held aloft. "So - dinner."
"You're going to cook?" If his mind wasn't venturing into the Land of Wishful Thinking, she actually sounded mildly impressed.
"That's the plan," he said, mentally crossing his fingers.
"Hm," she made no further comment, but Will could feel her watching him as he assessed the fridge and began pulling out vegetables and chicken.
"Can I help?" she offered tentatively as he lined up his culinary victims on the counter.
"It seems a bit mean to invite you to dinner and then make you work," he commented doubtfully.
"I think I can handle it," she smiled, sliding off of the stool to join him.
"If you're sure," he glanced at her sidelong, "then I could put those surgical skills to good use." He presented her with a paring knife and a cutting board with a flourish.
She gave him a humoring look, but set to the vegetables deftly, cubing them into exacting squares. Apparently he'd been more right about the crossover of her skill set than he'd thought.
"Huh," he watched her expert movements for a moment. "Do you cook often?" If so, he considered, then this might not be as novel as he was hoping.
"No," she glanced over at him with a smile. "Never. I've never really learned how - and the few recipes that I have tried over the years haven't turned out exactly as planned."
"Well, it takes some practice," he assured over his shoulder as he got the rice cooker going. "Your chopping technique is impeccable, though."
"Glad that I'm coming in handy," she quipped, concentration returning to her growing piles of chopped vegetables.
Will busied himself at the sink, tending to the chicken, so that he almost missed Magnus' question.
"Sorry?" he turned off the spray of the water as the last few words drifted over.
"I asked how often you cook," she repeated. "You seem to know your way around a kitchen." The curiosity coloring her tones made him smile. It seemed to be so rare that he actually got to surprise her with anything.
"I cook when I can," he shrugged. "I've always found it relaxing. You combine certain ingredients in certain ways and the outcome is always the same. Or you can vary a recipe slightly and get something wholly different. Add cinnamon to meat and it sweetens it, add it to a cake for spice instead." Will realized that he was babbling on a bit and cleared his throat before ending awkwardly, "So, yeah, it's kind of a hobby."
"I can understand that," Magnus said quietly after a moment. "James used to mix his own base ingredients in the lab to settle his nerves. And my father would mentally tally the Fibonacci sequence. There's a comfort in consistency."
"And what about Helen Magnus?" Will asked tentatively, finishing up on the chicken and swiftly putting the sauce together. "Where does she find consistency?"
After a heavy pause, during which he nervously wondered if he'd pressed too far, she admitted, "Normally, I list the components of an anatomy. Start at the bones and work out through the muscular and nervous systems. Of late, though, I've also found myself waiting on a certain evening call."
A beat before Will would have immortalized himself as a complete idiot by asking who she was waiting on, the penny dropped. He gave himself enough time that the shock wouldn't show in his voice before replying.
"Me too," he said slowly. "I'd wondered if I was wrecking havoc with your schedule, but my phone just seemed to dial itself."
"You aren't. Wrecking havoc, that is. Well," she continued with a deliberate return to their usual banter, "no more than usual, anyhow."
"Says the woman I refuse to get in another plane with," he let the moment pass easily. Time enough to analyze it later.
"I don't recall having this problem before you came along," she retorted. "Perhaps it's not me."
"The helicopter in the Indian Ocean was all you," he pointed out, missing her reply as he rummaged through the lower cupboards. "Ah hah!" Victorious, he emerged with a wok.
"Stir fry?" Magnus said, unexpectedly at his shoulder. Startled, he almost dropped the wok, managing to instead get it on the counter with only a slightly loud impact.
"Uh, hi," he half-grinned into the eyes close to his, "yes. You do like stir fry, right?" Will could have sworn that was what she'd always ordered when they had take-out nights, but in a sudden bout of nervousness, all confidence abruptly deserted him.
"Love it," she answered, grinning back. "Your vegetables await," she gestured over to the counter.
"Really?" Will peered past her to see neatly separated piles of chopped vegetables. "Wow. That's impressive," he thought for a moment, then added, "and a little scary."
"Good," she said simply, giving him an evil grin as she stepped back and made her way towards her former seat at the island.
"Yeah, not really helping the scary part," he muttered, smiling at the clear laugh behind him. Focusing, he moved the tray of vegetables over near the range and started getting things fired up.
The beep of the rice cooker and the optimum point of the stir fry managed to come almost simultaneously, for which Will was deeply grateful. This was definitely a good time for the Cooking Gods to align in his favor. Heaping the rice and stir fry in a, hopefully, attractive manner on two stone plates, Will turned towards the island and blinked in surprise. Apparently Magnus had taken it upon herself during his stirring frenzy to set the table - or island, as the case was - complete with silverware, napkins, and wine glasses.
To his amazement, and complete adoration, Magnus looked up at him through her lashes with a shy smile, "I hope this wasn't too presumptuous. That smelled too delicious to wait on, though."
"Not at all," Will smiled softly himself, completely transfixed by an uncertain Magnus. "It looks wonderful." He settled the plates down before their seats and turned the wine bottle so that he could see the label. "I'd say this was perfect, but you already know that when it comes to wine," he shrugged, "it's all grape to me." Expectantly, he looked up to catch her reaction with a grin.
Attempting to hide a snort behind a raised hand, she deliberately huffed a resigned laugh as she took her seat and picked up a fork, pointing it at him, "You are no longer allowed to say anything about my jokes. That was terrible."
"You laughed," he pointed out smugly.
She forbore from replying, instead giving him an I'm-Amused-But-I-Refuse-To-Admit-It Look and turning her attention to pouring the wine. Will didn't even attempt to act knowledgeable as he tasted his glass. While he could never compare to her, or others she had known in the past, in this area, it had never seemed to matter. He didn't feel the need to pretend to be something he was not - which was just as well, because he was generally fairly terrible at that anyway.
"I like it," he offered simply.
"Good," she tasted her own glass, smiling slightly. "I think it will work well with stir fry."
Will picked up his fork, but got no further than placing the tines on top of the plate, nervously watching Magnus instead. He was pretty sure that she would compliment him no matter how terrible it truly tasted, so he watched her face instead. At the first bite, her eyes widened slightly before closing and the corners of her mouth curved upwards. Relieved, Will dug his own fork into his plate and tried it himself. It was one of his favorite stir fry sauces, with an even balance of hot and sweet. Luckily, it had turned out in the best way this time.
"This is delicious, Will," Magnus' eyes seemed to glow a little as she praised the dish. "Where did you learn how to make it?"
Relaxed now that the verdict was in, he related the tale, playing up his early mishaps in order to provoke a laugh. In his entirely biased opinion, dinner was a complete success and they touched little on work as their plates cleared.
In lieu of the dessert that Magnus rarely indulged in, he fired up the electric kettle and produced the bag of loose cinnamon apple tea that he had smuggled down from London.
"That never ceases to amaze me," she admitted as he set the teapot between them to steep.
"What, this?" he motioned towards the tea. "If this is all it takes, I have been trying way too hard over the years."
"Probably," she said, looking at him with undeniable fondness in her eyes. "You amaze me just by being yourself."
Will could feel a blush heating his cheeks and looked at the wood surface of the table to hide from the knowing gleam in her eyes. "Well, you're a pretty tough act to follow," he said, looking back up at her. With a shy smile of his own, he admitted, "I don't think I've stopped being amazed by you since you hit me with your car."
Luckily, before the moment could turn awkward, the timer buzzed and he concentrated on the tea service with gratitude.
"I think you'll like this blend," he said, pouring a steaming cupful for her. "I brought it back from London from during my forced tea indoctrination."
With an unrepentant smile, Magnus pulled the cup towards herself, "Then I see that it did you a world of good."