Rupert kisses Jenny first.
If Jenny was a gambling woman, she would have lost big time if she had taken that bet.
Kissing him has been on her mind a lot, distracting her at the worst possible times. How, when, why...her imagination has been running wild with details.
In the faculty room making their morning tea or coffee, passing each other milk or sugar without having to ask the other about it. Outside her lab when he walks her there in the morning. After one of their dates, she'll press her lips to his cheek. She hasn't quite been able to work up the nerve to turn her head a fraction to capture his lips.
Jenny wants to, though.
They've been on a handful of dates and spent a lot of time together outside of them; she doesn't want to push him away by moving too fast. He matters to her, a lot.
Rupert's been the perfect gentleman. She didn't expect any less, she's just not used to it. With previous partners, she had no qualms about initiating physical contact or a kiss. She has no idea why this time is different, it just is. And she has no problems touching him, she touches him all of the time as it is.
Their shoulders brush when they walk side-by-side. She winds her arm and hands around his when he offers her his elbow – she likes holding onto his bicep and she won't apologise for it. She can barely keep her hands to herself when she flirts with him.
Like the other morning when she asked him out. She touched his jacket, and his tie, all while gazing at him and laughing at his question about what to wear. She'd felt like kissing him then but students and faculty were lingering and she doubted she could take any reprimand seriously about public displays of affection in the workplace if word got back to Snyder. Or, God forbid, he'd try to write her up for sexual harassment. Though, she thinks she knows Rupert well enough to know that he'd be a hostile witness.
If they'd been in Rupert's office, she might have reconsidered her options...
They'd gone to monster trucks a few nights ago and it had basically been a disaster. He hated it then Buffy called with an emergency and they cut the evening short to spend the rest of the evening researching in the library. It was so bad that she'd been surprised when he found her to ask her out again. He wanted to make her dinner.
And it's probably the most traditional date they've had so far.
Monster trucks...barricading themselves in the library during parent-teacher night – she would've been hiding in there without a gang of vampires taking the school by siege -...a high-school football game...dancing after averting the apocalypse.
Jenny's not sure the last one counts because neither of them asked the other out. She wanted to dance and she wasn't going to dance with the kids so she'd grabbed his hand and dragged him up with her. Besides, he practically dared her to do it when he told them he wouldn't dance.
Tonight, they're at his place, in his kitchen. There's music playing in the living room, something instrumental she doesn't quite recognise. He's cooking.
Or he would be if Jenny didn't keep sneaking bits of carrot from his chopping board. He keeps shooting her reproving looks as he works on the wonderful-smelling sauce. She smirks back from her perch on his countertop, sitting with one knee crossed over the other.
She gives his appearance another once over; no jacket, no tie, top button of his shirt open at the collar. This is a different look for him.
She's seen him buttoned up and she's seen him rumpled, sleeves rolled up, tie askew, after a long day and a longer night. His clothes don't matter, she's attracted to him whatever he wears.
She gets it, though. She dressed for him tonight. She'd debated over her outfit more than usual, changing a couple of times before settling on the mauve dress she was wearing under her leather jacket. She was possibly overcompensating for screwing up with the monster trucks debacle.
She snags another carrot. His mouth twitches.
"You'll spoil your appetite," he chides without taking his eye off the pot he's stirring.
"What are we having, anyway? Smells good," Jenny says craning her neck to see into the pot.
"Chicken piccata," Rupert tells her, pulling open the draw beside him to grab a small spoon. He scoops up some of the sauce and offers her the spoon to taste.
Their eyes meet as she does. "Tastes good."
She can add a good cook to her ever-growing list of his good qualities. She picks up another carrot.
"You're incorrigible," Rupert grumbles despite the smile playing on his lips.
"Let me help then," Jenny says, hopping down from the counter to stand in front of him. "Idle hands, or something like that."
She's not bored, far from it, but she needs distraction from the nervous energy buzzing in her stomach.
"It's almost done, just need to cook the vegetables," Rupert tells her, studying her for a moment. "Everything alright?"
Jenny reaches out, the back of her hand brushing the front of his shirt to stave off the urge to curl her fingers around the fabric. "This is different for us." Then realises that's too ambiguous. "Good different, but different."
"Well, it's not monster trucks," he deadpans.
"Is this payback?" she asks with a teasing smile to tell him she's joking. He would never do that.
"No," Rupert assures her.
His ears turn pink as he huffs out a laugh, maybe it is sort of payback without him realising it is. She's not upset about that; she's getting thrown off by her own anticipation with the connotations of what it means to have dinner at his place. Her hand is still brushing the front of his shirt, this time palm hovering over the buttons just below his heart. Rupert sighs and encloses her hand with his tenderly. Her thumb catches his when his fingers curl around hers.
"I admit it wasn't my ideal night out," he confesses.
"You could have said something," Jenny points out, enjoying the warmth of his hand around hers.
"Jenny," Rupert breathes out in the way she's starting to love hearing her name. "You take me out of my comfort zone in so many ways," he continues. "Please believe me when I say I am very willing when you do, simply due to the fact I enjoy spending time with you no matter the activity."
Jenny is caught by the sincerity in his voice, his eyes. She squeezes his fingers. "I enjoy spending time with you, too."
Jenny is rooted to the spot as he leans down to press his lips against hers. It takes her a beat to respond just as he starts to retreat. She doesn't let him pull back far enough to ask if she's okay with him kissing her. Her free hand cups his neck, urging him to kiss her again, silently telling him what she wants. All she sees is the quirk of his lips as they descend on hers. Sweet and chaste gives way to languid and deep as they take their time to learn how the other reacts. They stay close when they eventually pull apart, breathless and dazed.
He might have kissed her first, but she got him to keep kissing her.