It's incredibly awkward at first.
Gail protests that a cab really isn't necessary, given that Holly has already broken at least three traffic regulations in her own car getting here, but Holly just twists away from her when she goes for the phone, dangling it above and away from Gail's outstretched hand.
"Like you would ride in some stranger's car on the first date."
"I told you, this isn't a-"
Then Gail reasons that having no designated driver will make this whole experience easier on the both of them, and relents. Any night can basically be salvaged by alcohol. She's not going to deprive Holly of that escape, if this encounter goes south and they both end up needing to be completely trashed. They wait for the cab outside, breathing white puffs of smoke into each other's faces in the chill January.
Holly doesn't say a word as she stands in the illumination of the streetlamp, swaying back and forth and content to just share Gail's space, apparently. Gail glances at her once, looks away, and then looks back.
"What?" Holly asks, shivering slightly. Gail is a little surprised that she noticed.
"I hope you realize how weird this is."
"Variety is the spice of life! And for all the shit we see at work, Officer Peck, I think we deserve the best life has to offer."
Gail looks at her and understands, for a moment, what it feels like to be Holly.
She ignores the little voice in her head saying that Holly's never going to understand what it's like to be Gail Peck.
"You know, I'm not usually…like this."
Holly seems to sense that this is a Serious Gail Moment, and almost imperceptibly her face softens before she shifts closer to the other woman's body.
"Like what?"
"I'm not…spontaneous. I don't grab the bull by the horns, I don't do things unless I'm sure I can control what happens after. Being here throws my entire system out of whack and I don't know what to fucking do with it. I don't know what I'm doing here. Holly, I don't know. "
Holly looks stricken for a moment, unsure for the first time tonight. It's endearing, to see the smirk fall off her face and her eyebrows scrunch together in mild panic.
"Look, if it makes you that uncomfortable, we really don't have to-"
Gail interrupts.
"So this better be a damn good restaurant you're taking me to."
She's basically told Holly that she's special enough, somehow, to make Gail do this uncomfortable thing for her, and to feel okay about it. And there's a nervous chuckle from Holly that vibrates through her with its intentions, and as Holly steps closer in gratitude Gail's breath hitches tightly in her throat.
Holly's hand reaches up to touch her wrist. Her "very good fingers" are shaking against the pulse in Gail's veins.
It's not like she's doing any better- the blood roars in her ears, thunderous, and her eyes go from Holly's eyes, to her lips, and back to her eyes. She has no idea what the expression on her face looks like- a scared rabbit, maybe, or just some fool waiting for something to happen. Her fingers clench in confusion.
They are mere inches apart, and for an instant Gail's pounding heart is certain that Holly is about to kiss her.
A pair of bright headlights startles them apart.
Holly says, in a strangled sort of voice, completely unnecessarily-"Cab's here."
The driver pulls up and Gail shakily climbs inside, watching Holly situate herself moments later. The woman leans forward to give the driver the address of the restaurant and then lays back, turning to look at Gail. Her hand lies on the seat cushion, an inch away from Gail's thigh, warm enough for her to feel it. She wants so badly to reach out and touch it but she can't bring herself to, and turns away from Holly's eyes.
She's never been so grateful for talkative Toronto cab drivers.
They talk about nothing all the ride there, the weather and pulmonary embolisms and 15 Division's new cruisers, and it's better than any silence that she could have expected or wanted. The night is clear and crisp and even though its freezing Gail rolls the window down. Holly wasn't lying before- the streets are nearly empty, and the wind whips the hair around her face.
When they arrive at the restaurant, Holly exits first, dashes to Gail's door and nearly falls against the car trying to get it open before Gail does.
"You are such a dork."
"Only for you, darling."
And things are normal again.
The restaurant is nice. Like, very nice.
So nice that Gail clutches her purse a little tighter to the side of her thigh, just in case her credit card realizes where it is and decides to make a run for it.
It's also the furthest place from what she expected; all fairy lights and mahogany chairs and white damask tablecloths, There is even a live string quartet in the corner. Everywhere she looks, she sees black ties and jeweled throats and suddenly she feels terribly underdressed. Gail's been at the Penny for so many of her nights that she forgets places like this exist, sometimes.
Holly clearly hasn't.
There are also only couples, as far as the eye can see. One of them is necking, rather conspicuously, in the corner, and no one is commenting or looking at the two of them with disapproval. Two women, out on the town for the night. Nothing strange here, and Gail feels herself relax the tiniest bit.
Holly leans down on the maître d's podium, asks for a Jennifer. The woman appears almost instantaneously, dressed in a ridiculous tuxedo, and hugs Holly for a good minute before dashing away to get a suitable waiter.
When she's gone, Gail turns to Holly.
"Who was supposed to be your date?"
"Huh?"
"Jennifer's your connection here-" Gail nods at her retreating back. " -there's no way you could have gotten reservations last minute. Who was the other person supposed to be?"
"No one- she offered two but I was planning to go alone."
"Oh, I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry. I'm glad you care."
"I don't ca- I mean, it's not like being single is a sin. You're a grown woman, I know you can handle your shit."
It's such a reflex reaction that Gail winces and Holly laughs.
"That has to be the weirdest compliment I've gotten on a first date- you can handle your shit, Holly. I don't think anyone's ever said that to me. What's next? Nice financial portfolio you got there, Holly. Nice dental work, Holly."
"Shut up-" Gail hisses, flushing. "And would you quit calling it a date?"
Holly smiles, opening her hands magnanimously. "Whatever you say, m'lady."
Jennifer shows up again, waiter in tow, and Gail feels that pang of jealousy in her stomach when she runs her hand down Holly's arm, laughing again. Upon further inspection, she's obscenely pretty and has a smile that rivals Holly's own. Gail's mind races with the possibilities as they walk to a table, her hands gripping the edge of her seat.
C'mon, Holly is obviously with you. They're just friends.
Still, the visions of pulling her away from the forensic pathologist by physical force don't dissipate until Jennifer retreats back to the kitchen and they're left alone again.
Holly smiles charmingly at the waiter and asks for the wine menu, insistent on asking about every vintage on the page while Gail tries her absolute hardest not to snort at Holly's terrible French accent. It fails, miserably, when Holly nudges her elbow and asks her opinion about three types of wine that all look the same to Gail.
The waiter clearly has not had anyone pay him any attention in a while, and drones on delightedly about the merits of the Pinot Blanc before scampering away to get a certain vintage.
Gails cocks her head. He's cute in that limp, puppy-dog way, but the guy needs at least three square meals before he can even pass as human.
"So?" Holly's glasses glitter in the light. She really is stunning.
"So what?"
"C'mon, Gail, he was totally checking you out." This is news to Gail. She didn't even notice, and she usually notices- if only to shoot them down in the most painful, personal way possible. "Give him a chance- I'll totally be your wingman if you want to take him home…after his shift."
"That's gross. I'd rather feed him than fuck him."
"What's with the dirty mouth, Peck?" Holly smiles, shaking out her napkin and accidentally flipping her steak knife across the table. It clatters about a millimeter from Gail's hand.
"Jesus- Holly!"
"Shit- sorry. You okay?"
"No, I'm not okay!" Gail whisper-yells, glancing quickly at their waiter's retreating back. "You almost stabbed me!"
"Almost does not mean I did. And I did graduate from medical school, so I could patch you up with this table cloth and a bobby pin, relax."
Gail glares.
"You work with corpses. Forgive me if I don't have the strongest faith in your skill with actual living people-"
"You work with serial killers! I can't believe you're taking a little knife so seriously."
"-and you need to work on your doctor-patient sensitivity. " Gail finishes, a smile tugging hard on her mouth despite herself. And because Holly notices these types of things, she grins and cocks her head to the side in amusement.
"I didn't see you at the last sensitivity training 15 Division planned. Busy day, hmmm?"
"Argh, you know that sensitivity training is shit. I have plenty of sensitivity for the people who deserve it. And like I'm actually going to show the slightest bit of concern for someone who's- I dunno, shot a dozen people. And don't tell me you would either."
And then Gail looks at the clock and realizes that the first half-hour of this thing has passed and she's still here. And wanting to remain here. Holly sits opposite her, sipping slowly at her wine, dark eyes lighting up every time she looks at Gail.
Oh no.
The menus are printed on buttery leather and Gail almost spits wine onto the tablecloth when she looks at the list of appetizers.
"Thirty dollars?! For cow guts?"
"It's sweetbreads, Gail, not "cow guts". This restaurant is the only place in Toronto who serves them."
"For good fucking reason, it sounds disgusting. And I'm a cop, Holly."
"So?"
"So, if the appetizer costs that much, I'm going to have to put a down payment on the food."
Holly waves her hand carelessly, takes another sip of wine.
"Save it, I'm paying tonight."
"I can't let you-"
"Gail. Would you relax and let me treat you to this for once? Call it even for taking you to the cages a week ago, something I clearly misjudged about you. Making amends should be so easy. "
Gail picks up her fork and twirls it curiously around her fingers.
"So is this how lesbians order, then? Like, someone gets to be the guy and pay for the dinner and the date, the other is the girl and sits still and pretty? Because I can get used to this."
"First of all, wow, offensive. And secondly, I'd think you would be the guy, miss big butch police officer."
"I am not butch!"
The waiter, returning to take their orders, is visibly startled by Gail's too-loud declaration but takes their orders without comment. That doesn't stop Holly from laughing uproariously at her as Gail blushes a furious red. She searches for something suitably vicious to toss at Holly, since she is still above actually pushing Holly's face down into the soup steaming underneath her chin.
She finds nothing.
"-not butch." She growls across the table, when they've drawn attention away from themselves.
Holly just wipes at her eyes.
After only a few minutes, their food arrives.
Well done, Jennifer.
Any lingering doubts about going out tonight with Holly pretty much fade away with when Gail takes the first bite, because for all the ways her night has gone badly, the food is good enough to make up for it. It's incredibly liberating not to have to order a salad and check her teeth periodically for green. With Holly, she can take proper mouthfuls. She can get sauce on her chin and Holly just snarks and throws a napkin at her face.
Holly has ordered some seafood thing that is more parsley than anything else, and Gail wrinkles her nose in distaste. They eat in silence for a while until Gail gently rattles her silverware and Holly looks up. She smiles and taps her fork against her lips.
"So, aren't we supposed to be talking? People who go to dinner generally don't go just to eat."
"Okay, so how am I doing? As dinner dates go?"
"Well, you lost points for almost stabbing me in the hand-"
Holly coughs in protest.
"-but I'm willing to let that slide, depending on how you recover."
"And what would constitute recovering?" Holly smiles, and traces a fingertip around the edge of her wine glass. The movement is undeniably seductive, black fingernail polish against ruby-red liquid, and Gail catches herself starting to lean forward to get a better look. She coughs and crams a green bean into her mouth.
"I don't know, you're the one who's supposed to figure that out. Astound me with the quality of your small talk."
"I'm no good at small talk."
"Neither am I."
"I guess we're out of luck."
"Holly."
Gail twists the napkin around her fingers and says Holly's name with more firmness than usual. Holly puts down her fork and steeples her fingers.
"Okay, okay. Um….where do you see yourself in ten years?"
"Wow- do all lesbians get this deep on you on the first date?" Why is she bringing that word into conversation? Wow, she must have drunk more wine than she first thought. Holly winking doesn't help matters.
"Only if you're lucky."
Gail chews the inside of her cheek.
"You first."
"Chief forensic pathologist, full authority over the forensic unit. I've been trying to get a grant for a bigger and better lab, more equipment, more qualified staff. Maybe then you guys on the force won't have to wait for a set of results when all the machines or people are occupied. Toronto's not known for the incredible achievements of its forensic department, and I'd like to change that."
"And for yourself?"
Holly taps her fingers along her chin for a good minute before answering.
"I'd like a house in the suburbs somewhere, near enough for the commute but far away from all the shit that goes down in the city. A few dogs, since my apartment complex bans them. I'd like to be healthy and secure and as happy as I am now."
Gail is mesmerized. The way Holly talks, open and honest and completely trusting, is completely foreign and incredibly enthralling. No one actually exists who talks like that. Surely Holly missed something as she was growing up, a slap-in-the-face that should have knocked the naivety out of her. Gail certainly didn't.
"You don't want to be, like, married or have kids or anything?"
"Hmm, maybe. But I've put myself out there plenty, already, and if it happens, it happens. If I wake up tomorrow and have the sudden urge to run to the chapel and pop out some babies? I'll roll with it. But for right now, I'm having dinner with beautiful company and I have a job that's fulfilling if nothing else, and that's enough for me."
It's not just her words; it's Holly's attitude, the way her posture just oozes confidence and some inner peace that envelops everything she does. See, Gail would have never revealed that much on the first date. Too risky. Too clingy. She actually doesn't have the foggiest about what to say, mostly because she's stuck on "beautiful company". But she's only got so much time before Holly asks-
"So how about you? Got a ten year plan?"
Gail shrugs. She's nearly done with her food, so she leans back and slowly swirls the wine in her glass around, and around. She doesn't miss the way Holly's eyes move from her glass, to her face, and back again.
"Probably still at 15. Preferably, not killed or maimed or traumatized."
"Gail." Holly's voice is soft, chastising. She's worried Holly. Gail scrambles to fix it.
"I mean, in all honesty I'll probably be a white-shirt in the next five years .You know my mother, the superintendent? She'll make sure I stop pounding pavement as soon as possible so I can sit in an office all day, pushing paperwork and ordering other officers around. It's safer but so damn boring."
"Wait, did you make that 10 year plan or did your mother?"
Gail shakes her head.
"They're one and the same. Comes with being a Peck."
"It shouldn't be that way."
"Well, it's not like I can help it, Holly." She snaps. "I have a reputation and a family name to keep clean, and that doesn't involve getting to be a hero all the time, or even being good at shooting a paper target." Or dating women.
"Is that why you came with me to the lab that day?"
"What?"
"The day we first met. I know you're not afraid of looking death in the face, but you didn't hesitate to just come with the bones to my lab. I was impressed by you, this hardass cop wanting to know about the stuff I did every day. You're trying to experience it all, be the best police officer you can-while you still can."
Gail's breath catches in her throat and a wave of discomfort and panic washes over her, settling in her stomach.
"Don't psychoanalyze me. I hate that."
"I'm not trying to. And it was meant as a compliment, I didn't mean to offend you. I'm sure you'll be brilliant at whatever you do, behind a desk or in a cruiser."
"You don't know what my life is like."
"I know, and I'm trying. Sorry."
Gail swallows tightly, and refuses to look up.
"It's okay."
They're silent then, the clatter of the restaurant suddenly deafening around them. Their waiter swoops in to set dessert and two cups of coffee in front of them, and the steam fogs up Holly's glasses so she can't see her eyes anymore. She takes them off and wipes the water off, her voice light and airy.
"So, personal goals?"
It's an olive branch, and Gail fights with herself before taking it.
"Our waiter, according to you."
Holly grins, too big and too relieved.
"Yeah?"
When said waiter comes over to ask if he can get them anything else, they both break into easy laughter.
Holly pounces on the check before Gail can even look at it, and as they leave Gail's hand brushes ever so slightly against the other woman's, but it doesn't feel as strange or different as before. Maybe it's the wine, but even the cold night air can't dampen her spirits of being with Holly tonight.
"What now?"
"Now? I think I take you home, Peck, unless you have other plans."
The weight of the world seems to lift off Gail's shoulders. Fuck it- she's young and Holly is beside her, willing to walk with her in any direction she chooses. There's food in her stomach and a good amount of alcohol in her veins, and for all her complaints it seems a wonderful night to go on an adventure.
A taxi pulls up to the curb.
She grins at Holly before leaning forward to tap on the window. "You're not the only one who can plan a date."