Bobby and Terry, Tuesday evening.

[x-coldhands.livejournal.com]

Bobby takes Terry out to New York City for a Valentine's dinner and says exactly the wrong thing, because he's an idiot.


Bobby followed the hostess to their table, guiding Terry with an arm around her waist. He pulled out her chair, every inch the perfect gentleman, and scooted her in carefully before seating himself across from her. "Two lemonades," he told the hostess as she held out a menu to each of them. She smiled at him. "Been here before, have you?" Bobby nodded and flipped open his menu, grinning and stealing glances at Terry. Hopefully she'd like this place.

Terry gave him a smile when she noticed him looking at her and resisted the urge to smooth her dress over her stomach, certainly she could already feel a slight rounding of the flesh under the blue satin. She looked around to hide her unease and tried to ignore the queasy feeling in her throat. Oh God, she wasn't going to spend the next nine months sick, was she? Terry concentrated on the menu as she felt her face flush.

"So, it's all you can eat, and you just grab whatever you want as they come around," Bobby explained, smiling at her. "There's other stuff, too, but that's pretty much the whole point of coming here, so menus are a waste of time." Did she look a bit pale? It was hard to tell, her skin was always pale. Pale and perfect.

Terry looked around again, this time seeing the way the waiters were wandering seemingly at random, though Doug probably would have seen the pattern instantly, all carrying trays. They chatted easily at every table with enthusiastic patrons. "So we just...what?" She was going to be sick. She knew she was.

"Well, we can get some stuff from the salad bar while we wait for them to make it to us, and...are you okay? You look kinda...grey." That was definitely more than just pale porcelain skin. And the sweat on her forehead wasn't a good sign, either. "You're not coming down with something, are you?" Not tonight, he'd planned all this, he didn't want her sick now...

Terry's blue eyes widened and she shook her head, 'No, no. I'm fine. I'm just...I think I'm a little warm is all." She pulled her coat from her shoulders and tried not to shiver. She needed just a minute to think... "Um. I'll be right back. Would you get me some vegetables, please?"

Bobby looked at her for a second, still doubtful, but he nodded and stood. "Sure. Vegetables." And with his task laid out, he headed for the salad bar, returning in a few minutes with two plates.

Terry took advantage of his absence to slip off to the ladies' room, pressing powder to her face and clutching her stomach, resisting the urge to throw up. She hadn't eaten since breakfast anyway, it would have been a useless exercise. Staring at herself in the mirror, Terry cursed her stupidity. How could she have forgotten something so basic as her pills? And why did it have to be Valentine's Day? Life was so unfair.

Bobby set their plates down and fidgeted, waiting for her to return. Which lasted all of about twenty seconds before he muttered, "Fuck it," and picked up his fork, stabbing a bit of food.

Terry looked better when she came back, lipstick freshly applied, the color back in her cheeks. "Sorry," she said quietly, trailing a hand over his shoulder as she passed him. "I went to fix my tag. It was itching me really horribly."

"Oh, no problem." He smiled at her, relieved to see her back to normal. "I got you a variety," he replied, nodding at her plate and reaching for the creamy brazilian lemonade now sitting by each plate.

She grinned at the plate of piled vegetables, seeing he'd been very good about getting a variety indeed then frowned at the drink, puzzled. "What is this?" she asked as she sat down.

"Lemonade. Brazilian-style. It's good, try it." He smiled encouragingly, reaching for the wooden cue and turning it over and over in his hands. "Want to eat the salad for a few minutes, or should we bring on the meat?"

It certainly didn't look like lemonade. Terry picked it up and sipped it tentatively then blinked, "That's really strange." She took another sip. "Good though," she decided then nodded at the colored wood in Bobby's hands, "What is that?"

"This? Is the thing that tells them whether we want meat or not." He demonstrated as he explained, setting it on the table with the green side facing up. "Green side up, bring meat to our table." He reached out and flipped it over. "Red side up, we want a break from the meat." He left it red side up for the time being, scooping some rice and gravy up and popping it into his mouth.

'That's really clever." Terry picked it up and played with it. She really had no appetite, given the way her stomach was jumping all over but she'd have to find a way to force something down. Bobby would want to know why if she didn't eat. "I think I want to try the meat." She set it down, green side up. If nothing else she could pick at a piece for a while.

Bobby wasn't going to argue--the garlic sirloin was amazing, after all. "So. What do you think of the place so far?" he asked, trying to make conversation.

She smiled at him and tried to focus on something other than the way her body was betraying her. "It's really different. How did you find it? I've never even heard of anything like this."

"My dad told me about it last year. He and a bunch of guys from his office were in New York for a meeting or something, and they came here. Had a great time. So he told me to try it out, and I loved it, too." Although dining here alone hadn't been nearly as fun as bringing his girlfriend here--he'd felt conspicuous and isolated. And horny as hell, with the waiters looking as good as the food, but he didn't dare act on it.

"It really is very different..." Terry broke off and smiled automatically as a waiter stopped at their table, having noticed the green cue. There was an expectant pause and Terry's gaze slid back to her boyfriend, "Um...Bobby? What do we do now?"

Bobby bit back a laugh and grabbed the tongs next to his plate, instinctively. "Bacon-wrapped turkey?" the waiter murmured with a heavy accent, and Bobby nodded, smiling. "Yes, please."

The young man deftly used his knife to separate two of the small pieces of meat from the rest on the metal skewer, then lifted it and slid them onto his plate, then turned an inquisitive look on Terry as Bobby set the tongs down again.

It smelled which was a positive sign. "Uh, aye, sure." Terry lifted the tongs as Bobby had and accept a couple of pieces of meat as well. She thanked the waiter, smiling at him then regarded her plate. "Is this good?"

Bobby nodded enthusiastically. "Oh yeah. SO good." He grinned and stabbed one, popping it whole into his mouth, and then moaning quietly. "Mmm...

Terry leaned forward on her elbow, watching him with a smile. "I almost just want to watch you eat," she observed softly, licking her lips unconsciously. "You make it look really good."

Bobby finished chewing and swallowed, then chuckled. "It is good. Try it," he encouraged, grabbing some bread for himself.

Terry speared a piece of the turkey and took a bite, not wanting to shove the whole thing in her mouth as he had. "Oh." She exhaled softly and closed her eyes, "Oh wow." She popped the rest in her mouth and just barely managed to stifle a pleased whimper. Thank God this stupid thing hadn't ruined her tastebuds.

Bobby smirked triumphantly. "Good, huh?" Any further conversation on the subject was interrupted by another brazilian waiter, this one with a slab of beef on his skewer. "Sirloin?" he enquired, knife poised. Bobby nodded and grabbed his tongs. The waiter began slicing, then waited for Bobby to get a grip on the piece of meat before finishing the cut and turning to Terry. "Sirloin?" he asked of her.

Terry looked down at the other piece of turkey on her plate then back at the sirloin, clearly torn. Finally she nodded and accepted a slice of sirloin. As the waiter wandered off again, she sliced a thin sliver off and lifted it to her mouth. She rolled her eyes, "God, Bobby, this place is fantastic. Is everything this good?"

Bobby beamed. This was going just how he'd hoped. She loved the place! And he'd been worried. "Oh yeah. Just wait for the garlic tenderloin." He glanced around the room, eyes halting on one waiter in particular, and he broke into a grin. "Ohhh...and the pineapple. I forgot about the pineapple." He looked back at her, licking his lips. "Grilled pineapple."

"Pineapple?" Terry twisted in her seat to track the waiter in question, "I want pineapple." Her appetite had slammed back with a vengeance and she would have been happy to eat the waiters if they'd been appropriately seasoned. Breakfast had been a long time ago.

Bobby laughed and reached over to pat her hand placatingly. "The pineapple will make it over here eventually. Eat your meat," he ordered, grinning.

"Pine-apple," she said again, stretching out the word like it was an incantation to summon the waiter. She turned back to her plate and took another bit of the turkey, instead. "Mmm, yeah, this is good too."

"Do you want me to go ask the pineapple waiter to skip everyone and feed you? Because that's really not very fair." He smirked, half-rising from his chair.

"All's fair in love and pineapples," Terry corrected him and stole his other bacon-wrapped turkey, nibbling away at it with a blissful expression.

"..." He gave her a woeful look and sank back into his chair, ready to defend his sirloin. "It's all you can eat, you don't have to take mine!" he exclaimed, one hand hovering protectively over the lone piece of meat remaining on his plate.

"Mmm," was her only response, licking her lips. Her eyes fluttered closed then open again. "I still want pineapple."

Bobby sighed, smiling, and started to get up, but just then another waiter arrived, this time with ham.

Terry pouted slightly over the ham but didn't turn it down by a long shot. As she slid the meat to her plate, she smiled brilliantly at the waiter. "When do you suppose we'll get to try the pineapple?" she asked, her voice sweet and lilting.

The waiter smiled and looked over to where the pineapple was being served. "You want pineapple? I get you pineapple." He moved away and Bobby went to work on the ham. It was less than a minute later when a new waiter stopped at their table. "Grilled pineapple?"

Terry positively beamed at the new waiter, "Aye, please." She took a generous pile of the pineapple, heaping it on her plate like a little golden mountain then gestured at Bobby to do the same, the look in her eye clearly plotting to steal from him the moment she could.

Bobby read the look correctly and sighed, taking a generous portion of pineapple himself. The waiter whirled away and Bobby sighed. "Terry. It's all-you-can-eat. Pace yourself." He grinned and shook his head. "I've never seen you eat like this. I know it's good, but you don't have to eat enough for two people!" He laughed, amused.

She nearly choked on her first bite of pineapple, swallowing hard and doubling over coughing. Her contentment shattered and a little voice inside her head screamed in incoherent confusion. Did he know? How could he know? How could he have even guessed? Oh, God. The coughing grew worse with the return of her nausea.

Bobby's laughter dried up, replaced by concern. "Hey, are you okay? I didn't--I'm sorry." He poured her a glass of water and held it out.

Terry shook her head and stood up instead, eyes watering. "I'm going to the restroom," she choked, indicating her direction with her hand then fled, various waiters looking after her in surprise and concern.

Bobby stood as she ran, biting his lip. "What'd I say?" he asked softly, then sighed and sank back into the chair, eating and watching for her, worried.

After dinner and Avenue Q, things are a bit more relaxed between them. Terry falls asleep on the drive home.


"Everyone's a little bit racist, sometimes! Doesn't mean we around committing hate cri-i-imes." Terry twirled, singing in a clear strong voice. Somewhere around the puppet-sex, she'd cheered up and started feeling better and now as they walked back to the car she was feeling almost normal. "Ethnic jokes might be uncouth but we laugh because they're based on truth. Don't take them as personal atta-a-acks. Everyone enjoys them. So relax."

Bobby chuckled, walking next to her, beaming. It was nice to see her enjoying herself, and that greenish-grey cast to her skin she'd had for half of dinner was gone. "So you enjoyed the show?" he teased, reaching for her hand.

Linking her fingers with his, she laughed and winked at him and switched songs instead. "I'm not wearing underwear today! No, I'm not wearing underwear today! Not that you probably care much about my underwear, still none the less I gotta say! That I'm not wearing underwear today!" A woman walking by gave her a double-take, more speculative than scandalized. Terry grinned at her.

Bobby groaned and tugged her toward him. "You're upsetting little old ladies, sweetie." He grinned and slipped his hand from hers, moving it around her shoulders instead as they neared the parking garage.

"Am not." Terry protested but switched to just humming anyway. "That was a fun show. I like being able to go out and have fun every now and then." Not something that would be happening much in the next nine months, sadly. Terry stifled a sigh and tried to hide her wince.

"I like being able to take you out," Bobby replied agreeably as they headed up the stairwell to the second level, where they'd parked. "So did you enjoy your Valentine's Day? Was that a good enough present? Did I mention how freakin' hot you look?" He grinned.

"It was perfect." She made him stop so that she could kiss his cheek then snuggled under his arm again. "I'm sorry I was all over the place during dinner. I think maybe I'm getting a bug." She moved right over the compliment since she knew that she'd spent have the evening looking like exactly like she felt.

"I'm sorry...you should get some chicken soup or something tomorrow," he recommended sagely, dropping his arm as they reached the car and walking around to unlock her door first.

She should get a lot of things tomorrow. Vitamins and books. Figure all this out so that she was prepared for what was coming...and could figure out how to keep it hidden. "Sure and that's not a bad idea. Rather fight off a cold than sniffle for the next week." She slid into the car when he held her door open.

"Exactly." Bobby leaned in and kissed her cheek, then carefully closed her door and walked around the car, sliding into the driver's seat and fastening his belt. "Besides, I don't want you sick..." he added, a suggestive note in his voice as he looked over at her and then glanced to the rearview mirror, backing slowly out of the space.

She was sure he didn't but it would be a good fiction to keep him from wondering too much about what was wrong with her. "Aye, you're the selfish type. You just don't want to share me with a silly virus."

"I don't want to share you with anything," Bobby clarified, smiling. "Silly things like school and job are necessary evils, but the viruses can't have you!"

Her job. Oh, God, she was going to have to quit her job. Even though it had always been temporary the thought hurt more than she expected it to. "Selfish, like I said," she teased back, marvelling that her voice didn't betray anything.

"Yup!" Bobby was unrepentant, grinning--and completely clueless as he pulled out into the city traffic, his smile fading as he concentrated on navigating the tangle of traffic that is downtown New York City.

"You're just lucky that I like you." Terry leaned forward and played with the radio, trying to find something to distract them both. Country, Jazz, Rap, Rock, all flashed by with only a note or two pause for her to identify and reject it. She lingered longer on the string quartet on the classical station but continued on soon enough.

Bobby laughed and shot her an affectionate look, which earned him a honk as he drifted two or three inches over the line into the next lane. "Right. Eyes on the road, Drake. You've got precious cargo, here," he chided himself good-naturedly.

"And Mr. Summers would never let you live it down if you wrecked the car either." Terry pointed out, giving up on the radio and going for the iPod tucked into the console between them. "Do you have anything interesting on here?"

Bobby snorted. "With thirty five gigs of music? I sure hope so."

She was already scrolling through his playlists and paused over the one he'd created with her in mind. Eclectic and, she saw, recently updated. Hooking up the FM transmitter, she started that playing and watched him out of the corner of her eye for a reaction. It was always odd to hear herself sing. She didn't listen to this much for that reason.

After a few notes, Bobby broke into a grin. "Told you I had something interesting on there," he teased, changing lanes and heading for the on-ramp. Hooray, they would soon be out of the city traffic and on the interstate!

"It didn't start out like this," she murmured, "When I first recorded it, there were harmonies and more instrumentation and things. I wanted it to be impressive and prove...something. They had me strip it down." Terry leaned her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes. "It's more like home this way."

Bobby reached out and rested a hand on her thigh, not needing both for steering now that he was on the freeway. "I like it like this. It's so...clean. I think it's good simple."

She smiled but didn't open her eyes. "This is better. It's just not what I envisioned. Sometimes that's how life works though." With her eyes closed, everything seemed to focus in on the subtle pressure of his fingers, the minute temperature difference between his hand on the hem of her dress and her bare skin. "Right?"

"Yup." Of course, he had no idea what she was referring to in particular, but the statement was universal enough. "I'm glad you're happy with it, though. It's probably in my top 25 on iTunes," he added with a small grin.

She laughed and looked over at him, "You're my biggest fan. I'll bet Sean's listened to it much less than you have. I know that I've listened to it less than you."

"'Course I am. President of your fan club, even." Note to self: Make a webpage for the Terry Cassidy fan club he now needed to start. Maybe he could get everyone in the mansion to join...

"My fan club of one? President and founder and treasurer all in one." She giggled and shifted, crossing her legs though it meant his hand slipped off. Reaching over, she laid her hand at the back of his neck, stroking the skin with her short nails.

"Mmm...for now. It'll grow," Bobby murmured, fighting the urge to close his eyes. Bad idea, whilst driving.

Terry looked at the time and figured they had another hour at least before they were back in Salem. "I'm not planning to go into performing. I want to do something important." She wanted to make a difference and she couldn't help but think that maybe that wasn't going to happen now. They said that children changed your life forever.

"Who says you have to be performing to have fans?" Bobby pointed out, reaching up to caress her arm where it lay across his shoulder. He just wanted to be home already, to take her to his room and finish this Valentine's Day right.

"I don't think the garda have fans. Not X-men either." She was tired, today had been draining and she wondered if he would mind if she slept the rest of the way back. "You'll have to stay a fan club of one, I suppose."

He summoned up a mysterious tone and said simply, "We'll see..." and shot her a cheesy grin.

She knew him too well to let it go at that. "Don't you be planning anything, Robert Drake. I don't need a fanclub." Her hand stilled, just resting comfortably and comfortingly against his neck. She closed her eyes again. "This was a busy day."

"Me? Of course not!" Not at all convincing, he was sure, but then he wasn't particularly trying to convince her. There was nothing she could do to stop him, was there? "Yeah. Yeah it was." Although the car ride home was kind of nice, just the two of them, alone finally after the crowds and bustle of New York City. "But fun."

Fun in parts. But she couldn't say that so she just nodded. "Aye."

Bobby glanced over at her and said softly, "Happy Valentine's Day, sweetheart. You look tired."

"I am." Terry opened her eyes with effort and smiled at him, "I think I've just worn myself out today. Do you mind if I nap a bit?"

He'd been enjoying her company, and he was a little disappointed by the thought of the long drive home alone, without even conversation, but if she really was catching something... "Of course not. Just relax and I'll wake you up when we get home." He gave her a reassuring smile.

She felt guilty for asking and guiltier for knowing why she needed the rest. "Thanks." Terry hesitated then stretched way over to kiss the corner of his mouth. "I love you, Bobby."

And that is what made all the planning, the driving, the tux, the crowds, and even the quiet drive home all worth it. "I love you, too," he murmured, stealing a quick glance away from the road. "Have a good nap, hon."

Terry smiled and set the seat back just a bit. Her hands fluttered down to rest protectively over her stomach and she sighed but slept too quickly for more than a moment's regret.

---------

Bobby pulled into the garage and killed the ignition, glancing over at Terry with a tender smile. I won't wake her, he decided, and carefully pushed the car door open, then gently closed it. He hung up the key and then returned to the passenger door, easing it open and crouching to slide his arms beneath her.

She didn't even stir, her only reaction a sigh. In her dream, his touch was just as tender and she turned into it, the movement in the real world sluggish and half-realized. As he lifted her, she pressed her face to his shoulder but not even the sound of the car door closing made a difference.

There were a few awkward moments between the garage and his suite, mostly while opening doors, but he managed to get her up to his room without waking her. He laid her on his bed and removed her shoes, wondering if she'd be comfortable sleeping in the dress--oh, but she looked so peaceful, and he hated to wake her.

In the dream, the loss of contact was sudden and jarring enough that her lashes fluttered open. She wasn't really awake and the leaden feeling in her body proved it but she stretched and yawned anyway. "Yeh didn't wake me," she mumbled, trying to focus on the vague shape of Bobby, hovering over her.

With a somewhat guilty grin, he shrugged. "I figured you needed the rest," he murmured, not wanting to break that sleep-spell that stayed with you when you woke in the middle of the night. "Do you want a t-shirt to sleep in?"

She shifted, considering that with what little brainpower was currently available. The dress wasn't uncomfortable but the lace on her bra was scratching her. Yawning, she nodded and pushed herself up to a sitting position.

Bobby moved to his dresser, pulling a soft grey shirt with a faded image of cookie monster's head out and bringing it to her. "Want help getting changed?" he offered. She was wearing girl clothes, after all, and they were notoriously difficult to remove, at least in his experience.

They weren't really but when she was this tired and this muddle-headed they certainly seemed to be so Terry nodded. She was having trouble keeping her eyes open and she watched him walk back over through her lashes, not going to the effort to focus. When he stopped by the bed, she lifted her arms to him.

He couldn't help but grin at how adorable she looked like this. He eyed the dress, looking for a zipper, and undid it, then tugged it up and over her head, draping it over his desk chair. "There. Can you get the rest?"

He'd left the bra and she still itched. A pout settled on her lips and she fumbled her arms through the straps, tangling one around her wrist and making her whimper in vexation. Freeing her hand, she sighed and held out her hand for the t-shirt, giving up on getting the bra the rest of the way off.

With a sigh of his own, he handed her the shirt and then deftly removed her bra for her. "There." He waited for her to get the shirt on before instructing gently, "Now lie back down and I'll take your nylons off."

Terry looked down at her legs like she's forgotten that she was even wearing nylons. Which, of course, she had. She flopped back and snuggled into the pillow, already closing her eyes again in spite of the gentle glide of his hands over her legs.

Having managed to get her completely undressed, Bobby pulled a blanket over her and kissed her temple. "Sweet dreams, Terry," he whispered, then tiredly began undressing himself. So much for the rest of his Valentine's Day plans.

She managed to stay awake long enough that when he slide in next to her, she was able to curl around him, arms around his waist and head on his shoulder. She murmured to him without hearing herself and slept again.

Despite his own tiredness, it was quite a while before Bobby managed to sleep, but eventually, manage it he did.