#and dr david is so expressive i can clearly see his face and gestures and movement and all that

[jonny-b-meowborn]

MAG177 is truly one of the best episodes. Just amazing voice acting, probably my favorite performance from Jonny, uncomfortably relatable fear but in a good way, and we even get some Helen. 10/10 will put it on my Favorite Episodes Playlist

[factoffictionwriter]

Tiva Fic Amnesty #5

Another piece of the multichapter fic. What you need to know: Ziva returned weeks after ppf. Now she and Tony are in a relationship and preparing to birth/raise a child together. This is their first ultrasound.

I remember learning so much about pregnancy while trying to research this chapter, but it’s still probably inaccurate. All the more reason to include it in amnesty. 

Remember: these are old. Be nice. 

Tony winced as a nurse in blue stuck a needle into his girlfriend’s arm and drew blood into a series of small vials. Ziva was totally calm and at ease throughout the entire process, and he found himself asking her how the hell she did that after the mean blood-stealing nurse had walked out of their small exam room.

“Not everyone is afraid of needles, Tony.” 

He made a face, “Well they would be if they ever had the plague.” 

She shrugged and turned to listen to another nurse who was holding up a small cup and giving her directions to the nearest bathroom. She slid off the table effortlessly and shot him a wink as she moved past him and out the door. 

“Did you say you had the plague?” Yet another nurse was holding up a clipboard and addressing him.

“Uh, yeah. White pestis.” 

She looked at him incredulously, “How the hell did you get pneumonic plague in the 21st century?” 

He grimaced, “Occupational hazard, I suppose.” 

She just stared at him for another second before glancing down at the clipboard, “Well, that isn’t one of the diseases on my list, and I don’t think it would have any effect on your potential offspring, but I’ll mention it to the doctor just to be safe. Any other medical conditions we should know about? Anything that runs in the family?” 

He swallowed, finding this miniature interrogation to be much less tolerable without Ziva in the room, sending him reassuring looks every time the nurse made any sort of concerned comment.

“Just dangerous charm and good looks,” he smiled awkwardly, finding that his normal jokes were much harder to pull when confronted with the possibility of passing on some horrible genetic disorder to his kid. 

The nurse didn’t roll her eyes, thankfully, and she went on to make several marks on the paper in front of her. Once she seemed to be done, she stood back a bit and gave him a once-over.

“Why did you wait so long?” She asked. 

His eyes widened, “Excuse me?” 

“To have kids. Why did you wait?” 

He looked around desperately, sending telepathic pleas to Ziva, wherever she was, to return quickly, “Uh, that feels like a pretty weighted question.”

She shrugged, “Not really. It’s just- you’re considerably older than most of the men we have come through here.” 

He stared at her, mouth open, completely unsure of how to respond.

“Am I older than most of the women you see here?” Ziva’s voice was in the doorway as she placed the now full cup on a table just outside where she had been told the nurse would grab it. 

The nurse seemed surprised, “Uh, no, actually. You fit the age range quite well, Miss David.” 

Ziva made her way back across the room to the table, purposely walking between him and the nosy nurse on her way, forcing the woman to take another step away from him, “That’s good, considering my age is likely to have a much more profound impact on the health of our child.” 

Her words seemed to draw the nurse out of whatever unprofessional daze she was in, and she quickly dismissed herself from the exam room saying she would talk to the doctor and they would return shortly. 

Once she was gone, Tony let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, “Thank you.” 

She smirked, “What? You cannot handle the interrogation when it’s you in the hot spot?” 

“Hot seat. And no, I can handle an interrogation just fine. That- “he gestured in front of him, referencing the awkward conversation for more emphasis, “That was a full on ambush.” 

“She is one small woman. How could she have ambushed you?” 

He stood from what had been referenced to him as the “daddy chair” and joined her at the exam table, “She’s good, that’s how. She starts with the simple, innocent questions. Then she starts digging around, asking if you’ve been exposed to this and if you’ve ever contracted that. And then, when she has you right where she wants you: BAM! She attacks a man’s age. I have a feeling that wasn’t the first time she did that dance. I’m almost impressed by her strategy.” 

Ziva rolled her eyes, “She was only asking questions to gauge the health risks of the child, Tony. She was doing her job.” 

“That’s easy for you to say. How come you didn’t have to go through your own trip down memory lane? Doesn’t your medical history matter, too?” 

She shrugged, “I have been a patient here for years. Dr. Brown already has my medical history.”

“You’ve been going to a pregnancy doctor for years?” 

“She is an OBGYN,” she watched as his face contorted at the word and knew she would have to explain more, “That means she-” 

“Takes care of mommies and not yet mommies all the same,” A woman with auburn hair and a comically small pair of glasses on a chain around her neck entered the room gracefully, moving immediately to Ziva’s side, leaving her flanked by her boyfriend and her doctor.

“Oh, Ziva. It is always a pleasure. It has been too long,” she glanced down towards her stomach at that comment, “And I suppose that is why we are here today. You know that 99% effective promise only holds true if you show up to receive your shots, right?” 

Ziva looked down, embarrassed for blowing off her health in the midst of all the chaos of the last year.

The doctor took that opportunity to address the other half of the couple, “And you must be the father,” she held out her hand, “My name is Dr. Cynthia Brown, and I will be taking care of your baby, and the mama.” 

“Tony,” he responded, shaking her hand automatically. 

“I wish I could say that I’ve heard great things about you, Tony, but I can’t say that Ziva has ever mentioned you. Have you two been together long?” 

Ziva’s eyes wandered around the room awkwardly, clearly uneasy about the situation. 

He took it upon himself to reply, “We haven’t been officially together for very long, but it’s complicated.” 

Dr. Brown looked fondly at the two of them, “It always is with baby daddies. Now, I want to be transparent with both of you. Based on Ziva’s medical history, I am labeling this as a high risk pregnancy without even examining the fetus. It is just a precaution on my side, and nothing to worry about for now. However, I do want to see you every 6 weeks to check in and make sure things are progressing the way they should,” She took a step closer to Ziva and gently took her hand, “I am not saying you are going to have complications, sweetheart. I am just being careful.”

Ziva nodded, only letting her eyes flutter toward Tony’s concerned expression for a second, “Thank you, Cynthia.”

The Doc turned around and retrieved a cart from behind a curtain, rolling it toward the table so they could all see it, “Most parents are the most excited - and nervous - about the ultrasound, so I say we get that out of the way first. When did you say your last menstrual period was?” 

“September 25. But I know we conceived around October 4th,” she sent Tony a heavy look, and he had to fight back a cheeky smile at the thought of those few days when they locked themselves in her parent’s farm house and did nothing but revel in their new found and quickly fleeting intimacy. 

“Right. So that should put you around the 7 or 8 week mark, so there is a good chance we will be able to hear the heartbeat today,” the doctor started fumbling with the machinery and the screen on the top turned on. 

“Okay, Mommy, I’m going to ask you to change into this gown really quick. You can step behind that curtain if you would like,” she gestured towards the back corner and Ziva obediently hopped off the table and went to change. 

“I thought ultrasounds were just done on the stomach. Why does she need to be in a gown?” 

“You must watch a lot of movies, Tony?” 

Ziva let out a hearty laugh from behind the curtain.

“I guess you could say that,” he answered.

“Well, then you must know that in movies they often sacrifice accuracy to make a situation seem less awkward. In the real world, the first ultrasound is normally done transvaginally since the fetus is too small to see in a typical one,” Dr. Brown reached underneath the exam table and lifted two metal bars with tube like attachments on top. 

Tony wasn’t sure he liked where this was going. 

Ziva returned in her hospital robe and hopped up on the table, unphased by the appearance of the metal contraptions. She laid back on the table and reached for his hand, pulling him closer toward her head as the doc lifted each of her legs and guided them into the waiting stirrups. 

“Don’t make this weird, Tony.” 

He looked pointedly at her lower half as the doc pulled out a long tubular instrument and approached the table, “Everything about this is weird. I’m the least weird part of this right now.” 

She rolled her eyes for what must have been the hundredth time that day and nodded toward Dr. Brown, giving her the okay to start the exam.

[ifishouldvanish]

The Boston Hour (6/?)

In which Belle is an Antiques Roadshow super-fan and Gold is her favorite appraiser.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Belle and Rumford (very anxiously) prepare for their date. RATING: T WORDS: 5,782 A/N: Hahaha, long time no update. Catch up on TMI’s here - [x].

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Read on AO3]

Sunlight blinded their eyes as Belle and Ruby stepped outside the venue, the heavy door clunking shut behind them. Belle immediately threw a hand over her mouth and squealed, a shrill sound ringing out through the now quiet parking lot.

“Yup.” Ruby said, giving her a pat on the back. “Let it out, girl.”

She turned her head to look her in the eyes, her own wide and gleaming. “Ruby!”

“I know.”

“Oh my God, Rubes!” Belle threw her hands over her face again. “He’s so sweet and handsome and I just–” She gave up on words and squealed again.

“I know.”

She smushed her cheeks back and forth, distorting her rosy, pudgy face. “He’s so cute and he’s gonna–? We’re gonna go–?”

“I know.” Ruby shook her head and laughed.

Belle combed her hair out of her face took a deep breath. Then a second, and a third, finally collecting herself with a heavy sigh. “Do you think he likes me?”

“Hm. Hard to say.” Ruby deadpanned.

Belle narrowed her eyes at her.

“You guys totally complement each other, though,” she laughed. “You ramble when you’re nervous, and he forgets how to form complete sentences.”

“Hey!” Belle snapped. “We were actually starting to have a real conversation back there!”

“I know, I saw. And I’m very proud of you both,” Ruby joked and slung an arm over Belle’s shoulder. “But you see, Belle– you have to leave him wanting more. Leave him thinking about all the things he wishes he had a chance to talk with you about.” She winked and began heading toward the car, shielding her eyes from the sun. “Besides– you were about to tell him about your spreadsheet.”

Belle frowned. “What’s wrong with my spreadsheet?”

“Nothing, nothing!” Ruby said. “I just think it might be a little… much?”

“Well, I think he’d be thrilled to know how his accuracy rating compares to the other appraisers on the show.” She said with an indignant little huff, folding her arms over her chest. “A .985 is nothing to sneeze at.”

“Perhaps,” Ruby snickered. “But you know,” she shrugged and glanced back over her shoulder. “You just might wanna save that one for the second date or something.”

“I guess.” Belle sighed and finally rushed to catch up, her heels tapping on the asphalt. “But a second date?! Does this even count as a first date? I don’t think I called it a date. Should I have called it a date? What if he thinks I just like him… in a strictly professional manner, and not in the I-want-to-rip-his-clothes-off-and-ride-him-like-a-bull kind of way?”

Ruby snorted loudly. “Well damn, girl! Should I bring a spray bottle so I can hose you down if you start to get too frisky?” She spun around and mimed a trigger finger. “Down, girl! Bad!” She laughed.

“Ruby!” Belle whined and slouched her shoulders. “You have to help me! I’ve never gone out with a guy I was attracted to half as much as I am to Rumford!”

“You’ll be fine.” Ruby said, swatting a hand through the air. “He’s totally interested. Just be your dorky, nerdy, sexy self.”

“I guess…” Belle mumbled, continuing to follow her across the parking lot before suddenly stopping. “Wait–” She blurted, fumbling to grab Ruby’s shoulder to steady herself.

“What?”

“Ruby–” She leaned in closely and lowered her voice. “I might kiss Rumford Gold tonight. Dr Rumford Gold might kiss me.”

“Yeah, who knows?” She snorted. “You might even get lucky.”

“Oh my God.” Belle said, holding a hand to her heart. “Could you imagine?! Making out with Rumford?!”

She curled her lip. “I’d rather not, but sure.”

Belle narrowed her eyes at her, rolling them before starting to walk again. Her heels clicked on the pavement six times before another dreamy sigh escaped her. “God, he’s just so sexy!”

“Not sure sexy’s the word I’d use,” Ruby said. “But it is sort of cute how nervous and awkward he got around you.”

“...Do you think we’d make a cute couple?”

“Oh–” She scoffed. “The cutest. I mean, c’mon on now.” She held her hand out as they finally reached the car. “Keys?”

“Well, now you’re just telling me what I want to hear,” Belle teased, digging through her purse.

“No! You dorks are practically made for each other. Trust me.”

 *****

 The evening session went slowly. A few interesting pieces, but very little to write home about. Even though Miss French had long since left the venue, she continued to occupy Rumford's thoughts. Her smile, her laughter, her passion for her work as well as his own. Oh, he could hardly wait to talk to her again! She was just so lovely! As long as he focused on the positives, he could almost forget about the anxious knot forming in his gut. But the shorter the line of guests in front of him became, the more terrified he became.

He was actually doing this. Going to meet Miss French. To talk. In a social setting. She'd invited him out. Willingly? Surely there had been some kind of mistake? He'd misheard her? No, no. She'd definitely been talking to him. She'd definitely asked him out. Miss Belle French had asked him out.

Good Lord.

He needed to talk to David.

Rumford rushed across the conference center to the staff lounge, hoping he hadn't left just yet. He didn’t see him in there, though– only a custodial worker emptying the trash. Was he in the bathroom? Would it be weird to look for him in there? He stepped out into the main hall and hesitated to decide which way to go.

“So– you talked to her.”

“Good God!” Rumford let out little yelp and spun around, stumbling and clutching his chest when David appeared before him.

His eyes swept over his face, and his mouth curled into a smile. “I'm proud of you, man.”

Rumford slumped back against the wall, panting. “Aye, well, thanks for the bloody heart attack.” He muttered.

“Someone's a little high-strung...” David observed, arching a brow. “What's up? How’d it go?”

He nodded slightly and swallowed, still catching his breath. “She wants to meet at a bar tonight.”

“Hey!” David smiled another one of his stupid, perfect, charming smiles. “That's great!” He said, giving him a congratulatory pat on the shoulder. “Why the long face, then?”

Rumford sighed and stared off at the set of double doors Belle and Ruby had left through hours ago. He pushed away from the wall and stood upright, adjusting his tie and wetting his lips. “...I'm going to throw up.”

“Alright, alright–” David said. He wrapped an arm over his shoulder and walked him back into the lounge. “Come on, let's talk.”

Rumford let David lead him into the break room, both dreading and eagerly awaiting what he might have to say. The custodian was still finishing up, and he found himself studying all the various mops and brooms and bottles of cleaners in their cart with great interest until David began pulling a chair out. The metal feet screeched against the floor, tearing his focus away.

David settled into one of the chairs with a little huff and motioned an invitation for him to take the other. “Sit down.”

Rumford stared at it for a moment and rubbed his fingers together. “I think I'd rather stand.”

“Alright, Well–” David gestured for him to start and folded his arms over his chest. “Let’s hear it. What are you so worried about?”

“I don’t know…” Rumford shrugged and began pacing back and forth across the room. “She just… makes me nervous.” He said, making an empty-handed gesture.

“Yeah. That’s what happens when you like a girl, Rum.” David chuckled. “You care about what she thinks.”

Rumford rolled his eyes and glanced away in time to catch the custodian casting them a sidelong look and an amused smile before wheeling the cart out of the room.

“Oh, come on.” David said, relaxing in his seat a little. “The worst is over. All you have to do now is just show up and be yourself. Have a good time.”

“How–” Rumford stopped pacing and looked at him with a pained expression. “How does that work?”

David laughed and shook his head for a moment before he seemed to realize he wasn't joking. “Well... to start? You need to try to relax.”

Rumford let his arms drop to his sides and nodded. “Relax…” He exhaled slowly.

“You already know that she likes you.” He reminded him. “So stop worrying that she won't.”

Rumford groaned. “She likes Dr Gold– the man on TV.” He said, waving a hand through the air. “What if I don't… measure up to that? What if halfway through this… date, she realizes how boring and old I am and changes her mind?”

“Measure up to what, exactly?” David laughed. “Dr Gold isn’t some Hollywood celebrity with a public persona and a PR team.” He said. “You are Dr Gold– personal property appraiser and antiquities dealer from Syracuse who occasionally does appraisals on TV. You are the man she was so excited to meet today, and the man she wants to have a few drinks with later.”

“I…” He looked down at the floor. “I suppose you have a point.”

“You just need to show her a good time. And you're only gonna make it harder for yourself if you look like you want to crawl out of your skin the entire time.” He explained, giving him a pointed once-over.

“And if I do want to crawl out of my skin the entire time?”

David narrowed his eyes. “Look. You clearly have a lot of common interests– Start there. Tell her about some of the other appraisals you did today. Ask her about her favorite books.”

Rumford carded a hand through his hair and nodded. “Okay. I-I can do that.” He finally sank down into one of the chairs, hunching over and bouncing his knee. “You know, I–” he cut himself off and rubbed a hand over his mouth. “Before–” he pointed a finger, “when I did her appraisal. I-I wasn't so… I was better. You went so far as to say that I was ah…” he trailed off, hoping David would fill in the blank for him.

“...Flirting?”

“Yes!” Rumford coughed and began busying himself with his cufflinks. “I ah, believe that was the word you used...”

David shook his head and stifled a laugh. “Yeah. I was pretty surprised when Fa showed me the tape.”

“So. I just need to… do that again. Get in that… mindset again.”

“Sure.” He shrugged. “You can look it that way, if it helps.”

It sounded so easy, when he put it like that. When he first spoke to Belle, he wasn't nervous at all. She was… well she was just another guest. But then… will them she called to be just another guest.

“You gonna be alright?” David asked, arching a brow.

Rumford stood back up and started pacing again. “David, I-I…”

“What is it?”

He rubbed a hand over his face. “It’s… Well, I haven't been out with a woman in– well, since… Just, what exactly is the ah… custom as far as, um–”

David tilted his head. “...Kissing?”

“Yes.” Rumford coughed. “Among ah, other things…”

David blinked and his eyes grew wide as saucers. “Look, Rum– you know I consider you a good friend and all, but I don't think I want to get involved in your sex life any time soon. Or you know– ever.”

Rumford stopped pacing and froze. “What?” He furrowed his brows, then drew his hand to his throat and scowled. “...No!” He snapped. “Of course not! What kind of–? No! I meant– flowers! Should I get her flowers!”

“Oh, thank God.” David sighed, looking up at the ceiling and slouching back in his seat. He rubbed his temples in silence for a moment. “Well…” He hunched forward again and clasped his hands together. “A lot of women these days consider flowers on the first date to be too much. First dates are a lot more casual now. You know, they're more about just getting a feel for the other person.”

Rumford pressed his lips into a thin line. “And you're certain about that?”

David puffed his cheeks out and exhaled slowly. “Well… no. Plenty of women still do like flowers on the first date. But the ones who don't feel like it puts too much romantic pressure on them before they've really gotten a chance to know you?”

He tilted his head. “So no flowers?”

David gave a noncommittal shrug.

“Well, you're bloody helpful.” Rumford muttered.

“Hey!” He threw his hands up. “I don't need to be here, listening to any of this!”

Rumford sighed, holding a hand out in lieu of a white flag. “Aye, I know, I know– Ah’m sorry.”

David straightened his posture and settled back into the chair more comfortably again. “So you're meeting at a bar, you said?”

“Yes. Aesop's. And her ah, friend will be there. I think.”

“Did she call it a date? Or–”

“No.” Rumford dragged a hand over his face and groaned. “Why? What does that mean? You think she doesn't… like me that way?”

“No! No, she definitely does!” He assured. “But maybe just… no flowers, after all.”

“No flowers?”

“No flowers. I think.”

Rumford stared at him for a moment. “...Why?”

“Well, she didn't call it a date,” David shrugged, “and Aesop's is pretty casual. And if her friend's gonna be there…”

“Right.” He nodded. “You're absolutely right. Flowers would be ridiculous.” And desperate. And just a horrible idea.

“Well,” David scoffed, “maybe not ridic–”

“Ridiculous.” Rumford shot down before he could change his mind again. “Now what about the ah… other thing? The ah,” he coughed, “...kissing.”

David rubbed a hand over his mouth and sighed. “I think the best advice I can give you there is to just… let her set the pace. Watch her body language. When in doubt, ask. A simple, ‘ May I kiss you? ’ at the end of the night can be romantic in itself, really.”

“Right. O-okay.” Rumford clenched his jaw, his head bobbing up and down automatically. “Simple enough, I suppose...”

“Look– You got this,” David said, rising up from him seat and giving him a pat on the back. He looked at the door and hesitated. “...And Rum?”

“Yes?”

“Just... you know. Regardless of your intentions,” he stressed, “it never hurts to be prepared.”

He wrinkled his nose. “...Prepared for what?”

“You know.” He glanced away. “The other other thing.”

Rumford's eyes darted left to right, and he craned his neck forward as if to hear better. “...I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

David sighed and dragged a hand over his face. “ Not the flowers? The bees?”

Rumford drew his head back and blinked. “Oh.” He looked away, fixing his gaze on the floor, and cleared his throat. “Yes. Well ah... Good talk, David, thank you.”

“...Yeah.” David nodded stiffly, starting towards the door again.

“Have a ah… lovely evening.”

“Yeah, I’ll uh, tell Emma you say hi.”

“Yes.” Rumford coughed. “Do that.”

“Yeah.”

Rumford rubbed his fingers together. “You can leave now.”

“Yup.” David nodded and slipped out the door.

 *****

 “I’m just not that hungry.” Belle said, laying the poorly designed menu back down on the table. It seemed that in the time it took to have her quick chat with Rumford, all of the other people at the Roadshow had beaten them to lunch. The diner they'd managed to find a parking spot for was packed and noisy, and doing nothing to help her relax for her date.

Ruby peered over her own menu, arching a brow. “You haven’t eaten anything all day, Belle.”

She shrugged and smiled. “I’m fine!”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “Okay. But don’t think I won’t hesitate to smack your hand away if you try to grab one of my fries. I’m starving.”

“Fine.” Belle huffed and picked her menu back up. “...Do you think they’ll let me order a kid’s meal?”

Ruby cracked a smile. “Well, you’re certainly short enough,” she snorted.

“I just don’t have much of an appetite, you know?” She said, checking the time on her phone again.

“Dammit Belle, I’m going to confiscate that thing if you check it one more time!

“I just wanna make sure we’re not late!”

“It’s a quarter after three.” Ruby said. “We have plenty of time.”

“It’s just– maybe we should get there early?”

“If that would make you feel better, sure.”

Belle nodded. “I mean, who knows how busy it’ll be. It is a Saturday night.”

“Fair enough. How early would like to get there?”

She pouted her lips. “...Six-thirty? Seven?”

“Okay.” Ruby agreed, giving a sympathetic smile. “That still gives us plenty of time though,” she said, reaching across the table and snatching Belle’s phone just as her eyes drifted over to it again. “So please. For the love of God, stop checking the time every thirty seconds!”

“Okay! Okay!" Belle through her hands up. "Fine, take it– get it away from me!”

She shook her head and laughed, tucking the phone into her purse. “Gladly. Now figure out what you wanna eat– I’m not taking you to a bar on an empty stomach.”

Belle picked her menu back up and raked her eyes over the offerings, tilting her head. “...Do you think the chicken parm is any good?”

“My Belles,” Ruby chuckled. “Going from ‘I don’t have much of an appetite’ to ‘how do ya think the chicken parm is?’”

“What?! You’re the one who told me I have to eat!”

“I know, I know!” Ruby laughed. “But to answer your question– it’d be pretty damn hard to mess up chicken parm.”

“Okay, good.” Belle nodded, laying the menu back down again and folding her hands primly over the table. “I’ll have that then.”

As they waited for their food to arrive,at Belle was twiddling her thumbs, looking at all the old photos on the wall that desired the generations of the restaurant's owners. They were interspersed with newspaper clippings boasting glowing reviews of some of the menu items, or pictures of the staff posing with celebrity guests. Then it hit her.

“Ruby.”

“Yeah, what's up?”

“Is there a lot of garlic in chicken parm?"

"...I wouldn't say a lot. Why?"

"What if I get garlic breath?”

“You can brush your teeth when we get back to the hotel, Belle. Besides,” she shrugged, “I have like, Tic Tacs and stuff.”

“The mint ones or the orange ones?” She asked. “Because I mean I like the orange ones but I don't feel like they really freshen my–”

“Both.”

Belle let out a relieved sigh. “Okay.”

"You got this, Belle." Ruby said. "I got you."

*****

  Ultra thin.

Ribbed.

Studded.

Intense pleasure.

Climax control.

Rumford's hand hovered over the overwhelming selection of condoms at the drugstore. He looked over his shoulder and waited for the woman further down the aisle to grab her tampons and leave before cautiously plucking one of the boxes off of the shelf.

Black and red with big block letters. Words like ‘MAX ’ and ‘Intense’ and ‘Ultra’ and this was ridiculous!

He quickly put the box back before he could be caught with it, but in his hurry to do so, he knocked about a half dozen others onto the floor.

“Bloody Christ.” He muttered under his breath, squatting down to pick them up. Lubricated. Ecstasy. For her pleasure. He scowled at the boxes as he read them, curious about their claims despite himself.

David wasn't wrong. If– and only if– things between him and Miss French ever came to, well... that tonight, they would undoubtedly need protection. But what were the odds of that happening, honest?

Better to be safe than sorry.

Would he be sorry though? He didn't want to have sex with her, he just wanted to talk to her! For now, at least. Did Miss French want to have sex with him? Is that what this was? Maybe she was one of those empowered women who liked to engage in... free love. Not that there was nothing wrong with that, of course– all the more power to her. But what about him?

An employee in a blue vest suddenly appeared in his peripheral and he froze.

“You finding everything alright, sir?”

Rumford kept his eyes fixed ahead and huffed, breaking a sweat as he realized the assortment of boxes was very unfortunately still in his arms. “...Fine. Thank you.”

Stupid David. Putting ideas like this into his head, as if he needed any more things to worry about tonight. Let's put sex on the table!

“Alright, well let me know if you need help finding anything.”

Rumford closed his eyes and sighed. His dignity, perhaps? “Aye. Will do.” He grit through his teeth, waiting for them to walk away before putting the boxes back on the shelf– carefully, this time. Very, very carefully.

He didn't have to have sex with her if he didn't want to. Why should he bother with condoms if he already knew he didn't want to have sex tonight?

You could change your mind.

But when? In the heat of the moment? Surely that would be a rash decision. He was of clear mind right now, and right now he knew he didn't want to, so in buying condoms, wouldn't he really just be enabling himself to make a decision he might regret?

Regardless of your intentions, it never hurts to be prepared.

“Fucking shite.” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he swallowed his pride. He let his eyes skim over the rows of colorful packages one last time.

Ultra Ribbed. Glow in the dark. Maximum Pleasure. Tropical flavors. Rumford scowled. Now why would anyone want– nevermind. He shook his head and plucked one of the boxes off the shelf– At random. Yes. Good. He tossed a quick look over his shoulder again before reading the back of the package.

Unique texture designed to provide extra stimulation for her most sensitive area and heighten her pleasure.

He drummed his fingertips along the side of the box for a moment. He supposed there was nothing wrong with that, right? As good as anything else, wasn't it? Yes, yes. These would do. You know– In the event that he needed them.

He started back up the aisle, overly conscious of the box in his hands. He definitely should have grabbed a basket on his way in. Maybe then he could have filled it with other things, like shaving cream? Painkillers? A toothbrush? A bag of candy or a bottle of iced tea?

Before he could bemoan his lack of foresight any further, his phone began buzzing in his pocket. He stopped and hesitated, his hands fumbling uselessly in the air as he weighed the pros and cons of taking a call while he wandered aimlessly around the drugstore with a box of condoms in his hand.

He slid his phone out of his pocket, and a familiar giddiness coursed through him when he recognized the notification for the app Neal had him install so they could have international calls using VoIP. Whatever that meant.

But Neal!

He put the box back on the shelf (carefully!), tapped the green circle in the middle of the screen, and pressed the device to his ear. “Neal?”

“Hey, Pop!”

He let out a deep breath. “H-Hey.”

There was a beat of silence. “...You okay, there? You sound kind of out of breath.”

“No.” He lied. “No, no, no! I'm fine. I'm fine.”

“Right…” Neal said, not sounding convinced in the slightest. “Anyway, you're in Boston for the show this weekend, right?”

“Yeah. Yes. Yes, Boston.” Rumford nodded, slowly meandering into the next aisle.

“Cool. Yeah, I figured you'd be bored in your hotel room by now, so I thought I'd give you a call before bed?”

“Oh. That's– very thoughtful. How ah… how's Liverpool? How's your mum doing?”

“Good. She's good.”

“Do anything fun this week?”

“Eh. Usual stuff.”

“Oh. Oh, that's good.” He said. Teenagers, he thought.

“Kind of ready to come back home though, honestly.”

Rumford smiled at that. “I miss you too, son.”

There was a beat, and he heard his son smack his lips. That only meant one thing.

“Dad.”

“...Yes?”

“What's wrong?”

“Oh, don't be ridiculous!” Rumford chuckled. “Nothing's wrong. I'm wonderful. Perfect, even.”

“Perfect?” Neal scoffed. “Pop. You're out of breath. Which means you're nervous and you’re pacing. Which means something's wrong. So what's up?”

Rumford rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless. His son could read him like an open book, and as inconvenient as it might be at times, he was glad of it. “Well…” He took a bottle of lavender shampoo off of the shelf with his free hand.  Flipped the cap open and sniffed. Nice. “If you must know, your father has a ah… wee bit of a date tonight.”

“You have a–” Neal laughed. “No fucking way!”

“Watch your mouth.” Rumford snipped, putting the shampoo back.

“Sorry, sorry.” Neal let out an exasperated sigh. “...Egads? Jeepers?”

“Much better.”

“Really, it's not.” Neal groaned. “And okay, no offense, but where did you meet somebody? You finally sign up for one of those online dating sites?”

“No.” Rumford scowled. He'd been refusing to embarrass himself with something as desperate as that for years now, despite his son's assurance that it was totally normal these days and nothing to be ashamed of. Practically everybody does it! “We met today. A-at the show. She was a guest. We got talking, and she... Well, she invited me out afterward.”

“Nice!” Neal said. “What's she like?”

“Oh.” Rumford pressed his lips together. He really wasn't prepared to have this conversation, let alone with his son. How should he answer that question? He hardly knew Miss French himself– He just knew that he wanted to know Miss French. He took another bottle off the shelf and sniffed. Tea tree and mint. Very nice. “Ah, well, she's… nice. And smart. And beautiful. And…”

“Okay, okay–” Neal chuckled. “Got it.”

“She's a librarian.” He added, because he felt some inexplicable need to.

“Oh. Well, that's… cool, I guess.”

Rumford took a few more whiffs of the tea tree shampoo before putting it back. He spun around to the opposite side of the aisle, sweeping good eyes over the endless selection of hair dye. “Anyway,” he exhaled, “how’s the weather over there?”

“Oh, no–” Neal scoffed. “No, we're not done talking about this date. So you like her? You going someplace nice for dinner?”

“I…” He trailed off and found himself inspecting a box of hair dye with large red letters, proudly declaring it was For Men. It reminded him of the awful condom boxes in the other aisle, and was there really much of a difference between men's and women's hair, he wondered? “She– she's lovely. But ah, no. It's... some bar downtown.”

“Hm.”

“Should I–” Rumford set the hair dye back on the shelf and looked over his shoulder, lowering his voice. “Should I bring her flowers, do you think?”

Neal snorted. “Yeah, totally. You can get her a matching corsage while you're at it.”

Rumford huffed and rolled his eyes. How did he manage to raise a son this bloody sarcastic? “Neal, I'm serious. I don't– You know I don't know what I'm doing!”

He laughed. “Look Pop, I don't know what you old people do, but none of the guys at school–”

“She isn't old!”

“Sorry. Middle-aged.” Neal said, and Rumford could hear him rolling his eyes.

“She's not–” he cut himself off and thought about his next few words, though probably not enough as he should have. “She's got to be closer to your age than she is to mine!”

A retching sound erupted from his phone's speaker. “Ugh, dad! Gross!”

“What!?”

“Dad, how young is she?!”

“I-I-I I don't know! Twenty-seven? Twenty-eight? I-I wisnae about to ask!” He floundered. “She's a grad student!”

“I thought you said she was a librarian!”

“She is! I mean, she will be! She's... finishing her degree.”

“Yeah, and I start mine this year.”

“Undergrad.” Rumford said. “Doesn't count.”

“Whatever. I don't know." Neal said. "I guess I was just picturing like, a librarian, you know? With like, the bifocals on the chain and like, clogs. And–”

“Look, son.” He sighed. “I-I’m terrified enough as it is. This woman… Well, she's absolutely brilliant, and the last thing I need right now is to be reminded how bloody old I am.”

The line fell silent for a moment. “...You're not old .” Neal finally said. “You're middle-aged.” He chuckled a bit on those last few words, and Rumford had to smile. “And for what it's worth? I think any girl would be lucky to go on a date with you, Pop.”

“You–” Rumford wet his lips and turned away, trying to hide the pathetic smile that was blooming across his face. “You think so?”

“Yeah. And I'm like, you know– Excited for you and crap.”

“Oh. Well, thank you, Neal. That… that means a lot.”

“Yeah, well, it's been about time, honestly.” He said. “After all, you’re gonna need someone else you can drag with you to estate sales once I leave for Rhode Island.”

Rumford rolled his eyes, feeling a sudden sourness in his stomach. “C’mon, now– A five hour drive isnae so bad! Y-you could come back the weekends!”

“Nope! Not having this conversation right now.” He said.

Rumford huffed.

“Anyway, it’s late for me.” Neal said. “...And you have a date.” He teased.

He hiked his brows and sighed. “Aye. I do.”

“G’night, Pop.”

“Goodnight, son. I love you.”

“I love you too. And good luck with the girl. Who knows? Maybe you'll have a girlfriend by the time I get back.”

Rumford blanched and cleared his throat. “Yes, thank you, goodnight Neal.”

There was a few seconds of his son's laughter before he hung up.

 *****

 Belle looked over her shoulder at her reflection in the mirror, scrutinizing her bum. In a half hour, they'd be leaving for Aesop's Tables, where she would wait another hour and a half for Rumford to show up. Because they were going early. At 6:30. Just in case.

“Do you think this outfit is okay for tonight? Should I change?”

“Into what?” Ruby scoffed. “You only packed one other outfit, Belle.”

“Oh. Yeah.” She shook her head. “Right.”

“Besides. Judging by the way he was ogling your legs, I’d say he likes your outfit just fine.”

“Oh. ...You um, you think so?” Belle nibbled her lip and looked back into the mirror, happier with what she saw this time.

“Oh yeah. ” Ruby assured. “Now shh. I got a phone call to make.” She winked, flashing Belle the business card she'd gotten from Dorothy.

“Oh!” Belle smiled and bounced on her toes. “Yeah! Yeah, good luck!”

Ruby plopped onto the bed and pulled out her phone. Her eyes drifted back and forth between the phone and the business card a few times before she finally started typing it in. She seemed to hesitate a moment, then finally tapped the call button, taking a deep breath as it started to ring.

Belle could feel her pulse pounding in her chest. It was thunderously loud, terribly so, for the brief moment after it stopped ringing, but before there was an answer.

“Hey!” Ruby cheered, and Belle eased at her playful, sing-songy tone. “Dorothy Gale! ...You told me to give you a call when I came up with something better than my Oma’s wedding ring.” She laughed. “...Yup! That's me!”

Ruby began settling more comfortably on the bed, an excited grin on her face. “Well of course I am! I'm a woman of my word!”

Belle returned to the mirror, but couldn't help watching Ruby's reflection instead, watching as she clutched one of the pillows against her chest.

“...Well, how would you like to appraise me over a few drinks instead, huh?” She murmured, doing everything not to laugh at her own lame joke. “...Perhaps. But I'm told my true worth isn't really apparent until you uh, take a closer look.”

Belle stifled a giggle and stepped closer to the mirror. She leaned in to check her makeup, using it to distract herself from eavesdropping too much. Should she reapply the same lipstick she had on earlier? Or switch to the darker, more evening appropriate color she had in her bag?

She shook her head. The darker one. Definitely the darker one. It would do a better job of drawing attention to her lips. For kissing. Which is what she wanted. She stuck a hand into her makeup bag and plucked the sleek little tube out. She pulled the cap off and angled it over her lips. And then she hesitated.

Was it too dark? Too vampy? Maybe he didn't like lipstick on a woman, or wouldn't want to get lipstick on himself. The image of her lipstick on his throat suddenly came unbidden, and a tingle rose in her belly as her mind immediately began filling in the blank of how it got there. God, his cologne smelled amazing. Or was it aftershave? She clenched her eyes shut. No, no. Stop that. Focus.

Idiot, Belle. He probably had matching designer cologne and aftershave.

“...Oh, I was thinking tonight at eight." Ruby said. "Little place called Aesop's Tables? …Yup, that's the one! Think you can make it? ...Well, it's actually kinda shaping up to be a double date,” she said, glancing at Belle and winking.

Belle returned to her own reflection and sighed. Ruby was always so confident. No wonder she never had any problem getting dates. Flirting and talking to people seemed to come so naturally to her. Herself, on the other hand?

She knew she was an attractive person, but still. People didn't flock to her. She was aloof, mousy, awkward. And very opinionated. She also knew she ought to be herself, but surely she could be an enhanced version of herself? A Belle who smiled and laughed freely (but cutely) at jokes, who maintained eye contact, searching deep beyond the surface and unraveling the mystery below. A Belle who carried an allure that made everyone want to stare, who used her body language to bring men to their knees.

She was going on a date with Dr Rumford Gold, after all. Being a wallflower was unacceptable. If there was any time for her to be bold, it was now. Tonight, she would channel her inner Ruby.