beautiful_ann | (no subject)

Srsly?

"In a bar. It was her father's bar, and she served there. She sang sometimes to entertain the customers. I visited on one of the nights when she sang."

She squeezes Jack's hand, smiling. "I can't wait to meet her."

Jack grins. Or grimaces. Who can tell?

Right on cue, Else breezes into the room and announces that dinner is ready.

Ann grins, and rises, hand still wrapped around Jack's.

And thus they are ushered into the dining room, where Jack's mother, a thin and slightly taller than normal woman, is setting the silverware on the table.

Ann pauses, nervous. Again.

Come on, it's his mother.

Jack's mother straightens and peers at her through wire rimmed glasses, her lips pursed. Then her eyes move to Jack, disapproving. "You both need food," is said in an Irish accent.

Ann's face breaks into a smile.

"It's good to meet you, Mrs. Driscoll."

She grins back, warmly. "Do sit. Me and Else've been working on the food all night, and I know Mr. Driscoll'll get grumpy if he doesn't eat soon."

They settle in around the table (Ann somehow ends across the table from Else, next to Bill Driscoll), and begin a hearty, tradtional Christmas dinner.

If there's interrogation of Ann going on? Well, it's subtle and friendly, and balanced by the occasional embarrassing story about Jack or Else.

Eventually, the plates are cleared away, and as Jack pours wine for everyone, someone suggests they move into the living room for some present-opening, to general agreement.

Jack is an adult. Christmas presents lost their exciting appeal years ago, though he always looked forward to the surprises he’d receive under the Christmas tree. This year he could care less what he got as long as his esteemed visitors left at the end of the night. They weren’t particularly annoying tonight. They weren’t ever particularly annoying, it’s just that tonight he had someone whose presence alone was satisfying enough, and he’d prefer to savor her presence alone. So it’s a distracted Jack who enters the living room with his family and Ann as they begin to unwrap presents.

Ann ends up on the couch next to him, again, and watches the Driscolls hand out gifts with a smile on her face.

She decides, to herself, that she'll let the family get into the swing of things before getting Jack's present out of her purse.

A moderately sized Christmas tree sits in Jack’s living room. Even thus sized it seems to take up half the room, and Jack can’t help thinking it’s too small. The room’s too small. The house is too…

“Jack?”

It’s Else. He looks up and sees a present shoved in his face. He grins, hesitantly, and opens the gift: a pair of leather shoes. He thanks her and orders himself to pay attention as the gifts are open, though his mind always drifts—if not to the size of the house, then to his wish that his guests disappear, or to some other idle thought of being with Ann. It is Else who notices his distraction, and Else who suggests that she and her mother begin cleaning, before Ann is able to give Jack his gift. Some things, she reckons, are private. Like gifts between lovers.

Ann picks up on a little of Else's logic, and gives the other woman a smile.

As the Driscolls drift out of the room, Ann retrieves her purse and pulls out the rectangular package, wrapped carefully. It's re-used wrapping paper, but she's had enough experience at this that you'd have to look closely to notice.

Handing it to Jack -- "Merry Christmas."

It’s not quite what Jack wanted—loneliness by way of displacement, with the displaced merely in another room—but it suffices. He lightens up a little and his grin is more connected with the planet Earth as Ann pulls the box out of her purse. The novelty of the wrapping paper is as irrelevant as lingerie on a wedding night, as both go off in anticipation of what’s underneath. For Jack, it’s a very handsome leather-bound journal and pens.

He beams in response, and with a quick glance in the direction of the displaced leans over and gives Ann a thank-you kiss.

She grins, and accepts the kiss as if that's all the Christmas present she needs.

"I know you probably already have lots, but . . ."

“But they’re all written in,” he replies. “Now wait here, I’m going to get your present—not that I’m going anywhere. It’s right over there.” He stands up and walks to the tree, where he pulls out a box not small enough to fit in a purse. He pulls out two boxes, in fact, and hands them over to Ann.

Beaming!

She accepts them, and carefully unwraps the smaller one first. Inside are a pair of finely-made shoes. Her eyes light up as she takes one out and examines it.

Jack says nothing, but watches her with a wide smile.

She sets aside the shoes and unwraps the next package, equally carefully.

She gasps a little when the fabric of a very nice, very appropriate, and definitely very expensive dress comes into view.

"Oh, Jack . . ."

“You deserve it.”

Still a little flabbergasted, she runs a hand over the dress.

"Jack, thank you so much."

He leans over and kisses her on the cheek. “I love you. Merry Christmas.”

If they’re being spied upon from the displaced, he knows nothing of it.

And if he thinks he's getting away with just kissing her cheek, he's got another think coming.

She leans over, catching his hand in one of hers, and kisses the corner of his mouth. "I love you, too."

Well, then, she is greedy with her kisses, and Jack being in the Christmas spirit of giving, gives her a rather generous kiss on the lips.

Which, sadly, won’t lead to anywhere, as someone clears their throat.