[[Author's Notes:
You all are incredible amazing people and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading this, adding it (and me!) to favorite and alert lists, for leaving me lovely reviews…! Thank you, and special thanks to fmapreshwab, torchil, Ly, aki, elyoko11, and beardofbees, for your reviews. Y'all are awesome. I wouldn't bother to write if there weren't any readers. :D
I actually had to do research for this chapter, mostly because I have no idea how to make homemade lasagna. Also, had to look up a season 1 episode transcript for reasons that are nearly pointless. I stopped myself just short of researching whether or not there are century homes carved up into apartments in Santa Barbara…I've spent most of my life living in Old Houses, which have the distinct tactical advantage of containing doors that can be locked from the outside, as opposed to most modern houses.
The thing with Gus is a total red herring, but it amuses me (and no, it's not Chief Vick he's seeing!). He'll get a fic of his own explaining the mystery after this is done.
Okay. You're totally tired of my rambling and want to get onto the good stuff, right? Right. Read, Review, and Enjoy.
H&Ks, Elske]]
Juliet's kitchen is a bit cramped and more than a little inefficient – that's what happens when you live in one of three apartments carved out of a century home – but at this precise moment, there's no place in the world that is more exciting. No, rephrase that: no place that has the potential to be more exciting, thinks Juliet, and she's got the stepladder and lightbulbs waiting and she's chopping vegetables and any moment now Carlton will arrive and put her plan in motion!
She's singing to herself as she rough-chops spinach and nearly drops the paring knife when the doorbell rings. "Be right there," she says, tries to compose herself, opens the door.
Carlton is, as expected, exactly four and a half minutes early. "O'Hara," he says, nodding to her, and she grins.
"Carlton! You're early!"
He shrugs. "I figured it would be easier to cook if you could see what you were doing in your kitchen."
Juliet closes the door behind him, slides the bolt into place. "Thank you so much, Carlton: here's the ladder and here's the lightbulb."
The chore that proved impossible – even when Juliet was wearing her highest pair of high heels! – is no problem for Carlton: mere moments later, he's accomplished the chore and he seems to have a small smile of satisfaction on his face. The evening's off to a perfect start, thinks Juliet, as she paces over to the stove to check one more time to see if the water's come to a boil.
"Do you want a hand?" Carlton asks, a bit awkwardly.
"Um. Sure, can you wash the mushrooms?" It's the easiest thing she can think of, on account of the fact that she's pretty sure her partner isn't much of a chef. And if easily accomplished tasks lead to a pleased Carlton, well, all the better.
"It's funny," Carlton mumbles.
Juliet whirls, looks at him. "What is?"
He shakes his head. "You just reminded me of Lauren, for a moment."
"…Lauren?" Oh, Juliet thinks, this is not good, mysterious women who cook dinner are not good at all!
"My baby sister. She was about…twelve, I think? I was in school, graduate school, but I'd moved back in to keep an eye on her, because someone had to, and she was convinced that cooking real dinners was the key to saving our family. She's an incurable optimist. You remind me of her often, really." He smiles, shyly, and then – as if he realizes he's said too much – offers Juliet the now-clean vegetables.
"You've never told me about her," Juliet says with a smile, and if they're making confessions and sharing secrets already, things can only get better!
…and then the doorbell rings, and if Carlton was four and a half minutes early, then this has got to be Shawn, and he's s almost fifteen minutes early! But at least, she thinks, at least Carlton still got there first, because she knows him well enough to know that if Carlton showed up and Shawn were already there, there'd be little chance of him staying.
"There's more people coming?" Carlton says, seeming confused, and Juliet chooses not to answer him: she just answers the door.
"Jules! I brought you a present!" says Shawn, and then he's shoving a pineapple into her hands. "Lassy! What a pleasant surprise!"
Carlton's eyes are narrowed, and he mumbles "Indeed."
"Sorry I'm early, Jules, it's just that Gus is in Chicago and I'm bored," Shawn announces. "Jules, you can save that pineapple for later, I will not be offended."
"What is Gus doing in Chicago?" asks Carlton, and Shawn just shakes his head.
"Like I told you already. Wait, did I tell you already? He has a date."
"A date?" Carlton echoes, incredulously, and Shawn reaches out and pats him on the shoulder.
"Yes, Lassy, a date. That's when two people who like each other very much…" he begins, in a condescending tone, and Juliet quickly interrupts with a shout of "Shawn!"
The two men – who had been looking at one another warily, both turn to look at Juliet. She smiles, thinking that it's about time to put part two of her plan into action. "While we're waiting for dinner to be ready, how about a tour of the house?" She leads them quickly through the tiny stupid bathroom (claw-foot bathtub smack in the middle of the room), pauses for a moment in the living-room, takes them way too quickly through her bedroom, and finally pauses in the spare room.
"This is, um, where I keep all the rest of my stuff," she mumbles, a bit lamely. There's bookshelves and a futon, a twelve-year-old computer and the round wicker chair that was the envy of all her dorm-mates. More importantly, though, for Juliet's purposes: the small window is shuttered tight from the outside, and she has the key to the room in her pocket. "Come on in," she gestures, turning on the light: Carlton and Shawn mutely obey, no doubt expecting nothing more than a quick glance like they'd had of the other rooms.
Juliet manages to maneuver the two men into the room, and then she's blocking the doorway and grinning. "Um, Shawn, Carlton, I thought maybe the two of you might want to wait here until I finished cooking. And I thought – well I thought – I thought you might want to take an opportunity to talk about some things. Because I think there's a lot of things the two of you have kept unsaid for far too long." She grins again, steps back, closes and locks the door, and wanders back into the kitchen.
The water has finally started to boil, and she occupies herself with the dinner: cooking vegetables, laying out meticulous rows of noodles, layering vegetables and cheeses, and finally maneuvering the whole mess in the oven. She sets the kitchen timer, then tiptoes down the hallway to see how the two men are doing.
Pausing in the doorway to listen before opening it, she discovers it's curiously quiet on the other side of it. When she opens the door, she looks in to see Carlton fussing with the window and Shawn sprawled sideways in the wicker chair with a book in his hands. "Hey, Jules," he says, and Carlton whirls around to glare at her.
"Have you, um, had a nice talk?" she asks.
"Talk? Like I'd waste time talking to him," mutters Carlton.
Shawn just shrugs. "This is interesting reading material, Jules, I'm about to see if the angry mob storms the royal governor's palace."
"What…how…" Juliet stammers, looking from Shawn to Carlton and back again. "How are you farther along in that book than I am? How have you just been sitting here and not…talking…"
Another shrug from Shawn. "We're guys."
…of course, the one part of the plan she'd neglected. You can't just force people to talk to one-another, can you? Especially when they don't want to, especially about sex and love and feelings and…argh. She whirls around, slams the door, and makes a strangled frustrated sound in the back of her throat. It's all falling apart, she's wasted days of plotting and planning, not to mention the hours already spent on dinner and she's just about to give it up when all of a sudden the pieces all fall into place.
It's a moment of perfect clarity. It's brilliant.
You can only ignore the elephant in the room for so long after someone's just pointed it out at the top of her lungs, after all.
Juliet grins, a bit wickedly, and re-opens the door.