Jean and Warren: Just Desserts

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

After a number of postponements, Jean and Warren finally go on their first date and Jean finds out more about Warren's company.



Jean's breath misted in the winter New York air as she waited for Warren to arrive. She watched bystanders, tourists, and cars pass. She half expected him not to show up. Her luck with men was non-existent because she had spent most of her time studying, wearing scrubs, or escorting all manner of mutants across borders, both figurative and literal. She didn't even try. It made for a lonely existence.

So when she agreed to help she wondered if she was the best person for the job. Beyond a few high school boyfriends and the occasional college crush, her flirting skills were a little subpar for her liking. But as she waited, and the minutes piled upon themselves, she was beginning to wonder if he'd changed his mind.

There was no way Warren was going to miss this. Providence seemed to think otherwise, and he'd been stuck in meeting after meeting after meeting all day. He'd already had to reschedule due to the weather. There was no way he was going to reschedule again.

Plus, he’d been looking forward to this all day. There was something about her matter-of-fact attitude that he liked. There was also the fact that she hadn't been fawning all over him, or trying to get him to have sex with her in the bathroom. All pluses.

When the car pulled up to the museum, he almost felt bad. She looked cold and he was late. Neither was acceptable. Rolling down the window, he motioned to her to get in. "I apologize profusely, I was caught in meetings all evening, and I didn’t even have a moment to text you at all," he explained. "Were you waiting long?"

Jean had actually bought a new dress for the occasion, since she had a feeling things were probably going to be fancier than she was used to. Doctors didn't really get to the making money part until a few years into their practice. She mostly had spent her time paying off her student loans. Charles had offered to help her but her (impractical) sense of making it on her own steam kept her from accepting. That and she wanted him to be able to use the money for his school. She knew he wasn't made of money.

The dress was buried under a long, grey wool coat, but she was wearing high heels and stockings, which provided little warmth.

"Not long," she said with a shrug. Only 20 minutes. Had there not been lives potentially at stake she might have went ahead and left. There had to be other ways. She was about to leave when he arrived just in time.

She climbed into the car, the cold radiating off of her as she put on her seat belt. Her hair was curled in waves that resembled fire as they spilled down the front of the coat, nearly covering the scarf she was wearing.

"I bought a cup of hot chocolate from one of the street vendors. Apparently he uses a special recipe that his family has had for the last 60 years. I'm...really hoping that 'special recipe' isn't code for 'laced with weed.' Found that out the hard way with some cookies in med school." She was so glad they had just gotten out for Christmas break, otherwise trying to dissect a cadaver while high would have been...awkward.

A turn of the knob, and his heater kicked in smoothly. Warren gave a little chuckle. "If it was obvious the vendor had no underwear, then I think you'd definitely be in trouble. Hippies are everywhere," he said with a nod. "And I think you'll need to tell me more about your evening with special cookies."

Easing back into traffic, he took another glance at her. "You look wonderful, by the way. It'd be cliche of me to comment on the colour of your hair but it really is striking."

"If he had no underwear I probably would have backed away slowly and hightailed it as far away as I could," Jean said with a grin.

She glanced down at her hair. Most of the time she got mixed reactions...the ones who commented about her fiery temper coming from her hair (guilty), the ones who joked about her 'having no soul' (thanks South Park), and then the ones who seemed to like it. Being born with it, she found herself ambivalent. But a compliment still made her happy.

"Thanks. My nickname was Little Orphan Annie in elementary school, so it's nice to hear."

He gave her a strange look. "But it's red. Annie has orange hair." Warren didn't understand how children's brains worked. "And yes, I am expecting the night to go well, because I planned something that I think is both expected of me and unexpected." Another smile. "But you shall see soon. We are only a few blocks from my penthouse."

"These were the same boys who thought the height of excitement was to steal barbies and cut off all their hair," Jean mused.

"I think one of them's an investment banker now." She quirked a brow.

"Your penthouse? Well, that was certainly unexpected. I'm sorry...but like I said. I'm not really interested in 'hooking up' right now."

"I would like to point out that not once have I alluded to any hanky panky," he said confidently. "You made your boundaries very clear and I respect that." He said no more on the topic, slightly offended that she kept jumping to the worst.

The red stoplight allowed him a moment of silence to sort his thoughts. "I wanted a chance to speak with you, away from prying eyes. I know there was that picture of us in the society pages and I didn't want that to happen again. Celebrity is something one is born with or something one searches for. It shouldn't be forced upon oneself."

"Last year the New York Times society page ran a photo essay on you titled 'The 12 Dates of Christmas,' showing 12 different women over the course of the month," Jean explained. "Forgive me for being a little gunshy. I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt."

She glanced out the window. "It's okay...hopefully it'll just be 15 minutes of fame and then gone. I'd rather not hear the OR nurses gush over asking about your abs. I'd never hear the end of it." She smiled. Once she got another job, anyway.

"The penthouse sounds like a good idea. I'm sorry...I just haven't had the best luck with men."

He gave a little shrug. "It happens. If it makes you feel any better, I'm not dating anyone right now." Tiffany only lasted Saturday night and part of Sunday anyways.

"It's okay. I wasn't expecting marriage," Jean mused. To be young and single in New York City.

“Don’t ask why, but that reminds me,” he said. “Open the glove compartment. I bought you something.” She would find a blue Tiffany’s box. A small charm bracelet waits for her, with a little penguin on one side, and a seal on the other. “Now try to convince me that one is cuter than the other.”

Blinking down at the bracelet that probably cost more than a week's salary, Jean shook her head. "I...think you won the debate," she said with a breathy laugh.

"Thank you." She tried to shove down the huge swell of guilt, but was masking it well.

The rest of the drive went relatively smoothly. Before too long, the car was pulling up to the front of a historic building, and a doorman quickly approached the door. "Good evening, Mr. Worthington," the man said, his head bowed. Warren waved him off, and the doorman went over to Jean's door. "Good evening, miss. Please, watch your step. It is a bit slippery."

Jean took the doorman's waiting hand, carefully climbing out of the car. "Thank you, Weland," she said with a smile, making note of his name tag. It was probably not the wisest thing to wear high heels in winter.

"This building was newly renovated," Warren said once Jean got out of the car. "My parents were in consultations with the architect during all of it, to ensure that the penthouse was to their exact specifications. It was a present when I received my MBA." This was all said with a matter-of-fact voice, and in no way was meant to be anything more than it was. This was the reality of his life.

Staring up at the structure, Jean had to pause. It had all the modern touches she would've expected: crisp, sharp lines, with an industrial feel, complete with a touch of rust for aesthetic. But what she was pausing most about was his parents' idea of a 'present.'

"Oh," she said curiously, blinking with a slow nod. She had been pretty damn excited when hers got her an iPad when she finished medical school.

Once inside, the elevator ride took them to the top floor, which opened up to a surprisingly open, friendly atmosphere. "My mother felt having a more natural setting, within the steel and zinc work would be relaxing." He shrugged, and tossed his keys in a bowl right next to the door. The living room was an open design, with a beautiful view of Central Park that could be seen through a large bay window. On the table was a beautiful silverware setting, china plates, and candles. Soft classical music was playing, and a Spanish woman was in the kitchen, tidying up.

"It's all ready, Señor Worthington."

"Gracias, Luz." He motioned to a chair. "If you'd like to sit? The meal is ready now. I can provide you with an ample tour later."

It looked more like something out of a magazine than a home. With the ample heat inside, the sudden shift from cold to more pleasant made Jean warm. She unbuttoned her coat, slipping it off to reveal the red dress she'd bought. It was a simple trumpet shape, coming down to her ankles (her legs were so long if she'd gotten too short it might be scandalous), and had an asymmetrical neckline, leaving one shoulder bare. The other shoulder had a small touch of ruffles on the side.

"Sure," she said, draping the coat over her arm.

He offered to take her coat, and once seated, Luz brought out the first course: a lightly chilled cucumber bisque. On the table were goblets filled with water. "I'd offer you wine; however, I noticed you didn't touch the champagne at the event the other night. Is water fine?"

"Thank you," Jean said to Luz, who no doubt made the meal. She glanced up. "Hmm? Oh, no wine is fine. I guess I'm used to being on call at any moment. And being drunk while removing someone's appendix is frowned upon. I'm on vacation, though. Took some time away to visit my sister and her family for awhile."

"I'll keep that in mind for the second course. You have family in town?" At the thought of family, Warren suddenly realized he'd forgotten to do introductions. "Jean, the lovely woman in the kitchen is Luz. She was my nanny at one point in my life, and is now my irreplaceable housekeeper." The pride in his voice was evident. This woman had shown him more care and affection than his own mother was even capable of. "I learned a great deal from her and continue learning from her. "

Jean studied the look on his face as he spoke. It was a familial love. For all his talk about his parents she was glad he had someone he could confide in and who was cared for him as a person and not a tax deduction. Her parents loved her dearly. She didn't know what that was like to not have that kind of love. She could only sympathize.

Resting her chin in her hands, she smiled warmly when he broke eye contact with her and glanced toward the kitchen like he wanted Luz to hear. "She sounds great," Jean said. She took a sip of her water.

"I have an older sister Sara, who's in public relations, a brother in law, Paul, who's a cop, and a twin niece and nephew, Gailyn and Joey who are about to turn 6," she said.

She squinted. "That reminds me, I need to buy them a birthday present before I leave town." Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a small green notepad and scribbled down a note.

"When do you leave? And to add to that, where are you from? I'm finding I know very little about you other than your field of study and your wardrobe. You look stunning in that dress, by the way. "

Jean glanced down at the dress. She remembered looking at the tag in the department store. Luckily it was on sale. But she liked the way it looked. It made her feel elegant.

"Thanks. " She laughed. "I feel like one of those jazz singers from the forties," she mused, starting on her soup.

"I don't leave for another three weeks. I just finished my residency so I wanted to take some time off before I chose a fellowship," Jean said. She wasn't going to lie about that. But she didn't expect to see him again after this so there wasn't much need to.

"I was originally from New York, but my father moved us to the UK when I was 16 when he got a teaching job there. After I graduated from high school my sister convinced me to come back to the states to go to school. She didn't go over since she was in college at the time. I attended Colombia for undergrad, then moved on to George Washington University for medical school. Then I stayed on in DC to start my residency and eventually moved back to the UK for a couple more years to be closer to my parents."

Taking a sip of her soup, she continued. "I'm a Scorpio. My birthday is close to Halloween so we'd always have costume parties. As a result, I grew up hating orange and black but I gradually got over that. I have eclectic musical tastes but I have a soft spot for classic rock, namely the Rolling Stones and the Beatles. I learned how to drive in the UK so I sometimes have problems when I need to drive here in the US. I have a love affair with caffeinated beverages, especially tea, with coffee a very close second. And I also love art, obviously."

She smiled. "What else would you like to know?"

Throughout her speech, he sat quiet, nodding when appropriate and enjoying the soup. "First off, I'd like to thank you for your openness. I think it's fascinating that you lived in the UK. I wanted to go to Eton, growing up, but even though my parents insisted on boarding school, they wanted me to remain stateside." Warren reached for his glass of water and thought for a moment. "I also feel you covered all the basics but the most important question: do you like pina coladas?"

Jean nodded. "And getting caught in the rain," she said with a smirk. Actually, she did enjoy pina coladas. If she was ever in the mood for a mixed drink it was in her top 5.

"Question is...do you? What do you like to do? What are your hobbies?"

"Avoiding paparazzi," he said in a blase tone of voice. "I find that takes up quite a bit of time." Luz approached the table then with a side serving table, and busied herself with placing platters with covers on it, as well as bowls with sauces. "For when you are ready." Nodding, he gave Jean a crooked smile. "Alright. I suppose this is the part of the evening where I make a confession. I lied to you earlier this evening. I wasn't in a meeting this evening."

He got up and walked over to the serving tray. Lifting the lids revealed various items. He continued speaking as he began plating. "Tonight, we will be eating a braised lamb shank on a bed of creamy polenta, accompanied by sauteed mushrooms. A balsamic reduction has also been prepared. It's not quite how I envisioned it, but I did have afternoon meetings, so my evening was slightly rushed."

His smile widened. "I hope you enjoy it but I have to admit, baking is more of my passion than cooking. There's nothing quite as satisfying as eating bread you baked yourself."

Bringing her plate to the side of soup, he carried his own back to his seat. "I also enjoy documentaries, cook books,and traveling. I've been fortunate enough to see the world, and I hope to continue to do so, more for pleasure than work, mind you."

For the second (third? She'd lost count) time that evening she's been surprised. He was constantly doing that, flying in the face of what he made himself out to be in the papers: the uncaring, cavalier playboy. It was that reason why she hadn't wanted to give him a chance before. If you don't stick your heart out there it won't get broken. Then things took a turn for the complicated and she found herself playing the spy. It was a role she wasn't comfortable with. Especially when he turned out to be a good person. Definitely privileged, but still...good.

"Wow," she said, sinking down against her chair. An appreciative smile crept upon her lips.

"I don't know what to say. It looks amazing. I'm impressed. What inspired the obsession with the culinary arts? Luz?"

He nodded. "She felt that just because I had everything didn't mean I always would. Plus, I think she was worried I'd never learn how to do anything if left to my own devices. I even know how to hem pants, sew buttons and tailor my own suits."

The suits part was because he didn't trust anyone to go near his back. It was necessity that made him learn that skill. "I enjoy learning different skills. You never know when you might need a certain ability."

Jean grinned. "Me too. I think life has too much promise to just get stuck in one thing or another. The pursuit of knowledge has always been important to me. I was a very nerdy child," she mused.

"I'm surprised you have time to do anything with your job. I read somewhere that you guys had recently acquired a new company? Bio...something? Biotech?"

"Biotech Limited, yes. It's actually a fascinating company. I don't want to bore you with business talk though."

"Like I said...I'm the knowledge nerd," Jean shrugged. "Doesn't seem boring. I mean, I read they're some sort of...bio security place? What does that mean exactly? In the age of the iPhone and the Fitbit the direction of technology seems to be taking leaps and bounds everyday."

"I'm learning as I go along," he said, an animated look on his face. "To give you a bit of back story, we opened a science and technology division about five years ago, and stayed more in pharmaceuticals,medical research, etc. Biotech approached my father a few months ago, proposing a merger. They've been doing contracts for the government, which is all public knowledge. Anyways, they hold patents for a lot of the technology in retinal scanners, voice recognition software and fingerprint scanners." He took a pause and tried to gather his thoughts.

He'd only worked on this file for a short time, and he didn't want to misrepresent it. "So I guess to answer your question, bio security is using one's own body as a security measure. It's really cutting edge stuff. My father is thinking of implementing some of theft technology at our main building."

Jean quirked a brow. "I thought a lot of that was already common place? Or have I been watching too much Bourne Identity?"

It seemed redundant upon surface glance, but she knew better, if only because she had someone that told her to peek under the surface.

"Oh it is," he responded. "Cars with fingerprint scanners, doors that open only to someone's genetic code. It's interesting, but right now is more small scale. It protects one thing, has to be attached to a certain parameter. What if the security was system wide?". Warren gave a shrug."To be completely honest, it goes over my head a lot. I'm not the most techy person. I'd just mastered VCRs when DVD players came out."

Retinal scanners, voice recognition software, a genetic door lock....A lot of what he described sounded disturbing if used for the wrong means. The X-Gene was the part of DNA that allowed for mutant powers. What if this company eventually found a way to detect it somehow? Without a blood sample?

No wonder the man who approached them from WI was scared. They could set it up to where someone would know if a mutant was around just by walking into a building. Public fear and resentment was already nearing a high.

"Then your company would be very rich indeed. No wonder the government is interested. Feels very science fictiony. I'm still waiting for my jetpack, though."

Another shrug. "To be honest with you, some of the merger terms is that they continue to be a fully functioning company, and are simply using WI resources and capital for their investments. We have the final say, and veto rights, but they're a highly successful company that simply needed the extra push to become a global leader."

He looked at her with a wary look. "Are you sure you're not a reporter? You seem to ask a lot of questions about the strangest things. Wouldn't you rather know about my workout routine? Abs are Mondays, you know."

He seemed to not be very hands on with the project. It sounded like he only knew enough to speak on it should someone ask, and deflect, like he was doing right now. Plausible deniability? Did he even suspect the potential problems this could cause? Or was he just trying to run a business and didn't want to think about it? Either way, it was something she needed to look into.

"Let me guess...ab roller, kettleball, crunches, salmon bar...with variations dependent on the muscle structure you're trying to work with?" Jean said. She consulted with physical therapists occasionally for patients. A couple had taught her some tricks while working as personal trainers on the side.

She took a bite of lamb, shaking her head.

"I can be the person you normally go out with. Or I can be me. Which would you prefer? Because I can appreciate those women..They don't mind a one night stand and a moment in the limelight. They want what they want. They go for it. There's nothing wrong with that. But...I'm just...not that kind of person. I want to know about you, not your abs or what you use to style your hair. I want to know about the world. I want interesting conversation," she said, then tilted her head.

"And I think you want that too. Isn't that why you asked me to dinner in the first place?"

He settled into his chair and looked at her -- really looked at her. His blue eyes gave her an intense gaze as he processed what she had said.

Why had he invited her to dinner anyways? And for that matter, why did he invite her to his home when he could've taken her to the loft, like he did with all his conquests? Because she wasn't just a conquest, said the niggling voice inside. She was someone who challenged him, who wasn't afraid of saying her mind, and who clearly wasn't just a tousle in bed. Although, he wouldn't mind that, he had to admit.

"You'll have to forgive me, Jean." He leaned forward, a soft smile tugging on his lips. "You're right about the women I generally go out with. They're twinkies -- pretty to look at but no substance to them. You, on the other hand, you have plenty of substance. You are intelligent, an amazing conversationalist, and you understand the world better than most."

At this point in a date, he would've reached out and touched her hand, maybe stroked her cheek, and let his natural charisma take over. Not this time though.

"I invited you to dinner because I did truly want to get to know you better, and perhaps you're right -- I wanted you to get to know the real me as well. Not the playboy. I know how the papers describe me, and I have to admit, I do get a thrill out of it. It's fun but at the same time, it's tedious. I have an image that I'm happy to keep up, but it's also nice to actually cook for someone, spend time with a person who wants to know me."

He hesitated slightly. "You...do want to get to know me and not my business, correct?"

"I like to think everyone has a purpose. Everyone is important in their own way. Even the ones you think are 'twinkies,'" Jean said with a soft frown. She didn't particularly like that thought, passing off someone like they were nothing, but she moved on for the moment.

"What we do can be an extension of who we are. To understand you, I want to understand what makes you get up in the morning. Why do you choose to be a businessman? I know it's what your father did, and his father. But why you?"

It was not entirely a lie. While she wanted information on the company, she was curious about him too. He seemed to be capable of so much more. She could catch a glimpse under the surface. But he let himself get pulled into what his family, and the world expected him to be.

She let out a breath. "When I was a child, I watched my best friend get hit by car. And I was with her when she died. It was..." She shook her head, not sure why she was telling him this. "I felt completely helpless. I know I was...young, I couldn't have done anything. But I didn't want to feel helpless again. I knew I wanted to be able to have the ability to save lives. It doesn't bring her back, but it makes me feel like I'm making a difference if I can save just one."

"I wish I had an answer like yours, but the truth is, I was raised to be in business. Every decision made for me was with the understanding that at some point, I will be running Worthington Industries."

There wasn't much else to say. In school, no other topic interested him as much as business and finance. Science was boring, math was interesting and literature was entertaining but business....now that had kept his attention. Perhaps it was because it was the only thing that his father cared about and so by extension, he did too.

He didn't say any of this though. Instead, he gave a shrug. "There's nothing else to it. I'm simply fortunate that I believe in what I'm doing, and in my business. Otherwise, I suppose I wouldn't be too happy." Reaching for the water carafe, he refilled his glass, and motioned to hers.

"More water? I'm finding it to be rather dry in here."

"Yes, please. Thank you," Jean said with a nod. She glanced away thoughtfully.

"In a way, I guess it's comforting to not have to wonder about the future. To have everything already laid out for you, knowing everything's going to be alright. But it's got to be confining, too. No thrill of what could be...no figuring things out for yourself through the pain of hardship and experience. So this was always what you wanted to be?" She smiled.

"Not a chef? Or...an adventurer?"

Maybe if he hadn't been an only child, he thought. If he hadn't had responsibilities. "No. I'm happy to be able keep my hobbies simply that -- hobbies. Perhaps these activities would lose their appeal if I had to do them on demand."

Finally, he gave her a smile. "Although, I'm happy to cook for you whenever you'd like."

"You never know," Jean said, her eyes twinkling as she rested her chin in her hands.

Her smile widened as she continued finishing off her meal. She'd spaced things out so she could savor every bite. "And I'd like that. It's refreshing to find a guy who cooks. They're often few and far between."

"And you haven't even tried my baking yet," he added, getting up at the sound of the timer. "Perfect timing. " Luz had retired at some point, leaving the kitchen empty, but she had put the dessert in to bake for him.

Taking out two ramekins, he deftly sprinkled icing sugar on top, and drizzled a raspberry coulis. "I have to admit my absolute weakness for chocolate," he called out. Placing the dishes on a tray, he carried it carefully to the serving table. "Chocolate souffle with a raspberry coulis. Simple, yet delectable."

Jean studied the dessert. Like the rest of the apartment it looked like something out of a magazine. Glancing up, she smiled.

"Simple, yet delectable. Interesting."

"Notice that I could have said 'Not unlike yourself', however, as you have pointed out so many times, you're not interested so I will refrain from my usual charming comments," he responded, a grin on his face and a teasing lilt to his voice.

Jean grinned back. "Actually, I was just thinking...you had promised me a mindblowing dessert, and then I get one that's simple, straightforward. Stripped down. I like the departure from the bravado. It's almost...symbolic," she said, smirking.

"And not wanting to have sex on the first date doesn't constitute disinterest. It just means what it is...My life is a little complicated to throw a rustle in the sheets into the mix right now." That and she already felt bad she had to lie to him. She felt like Jane Bond without being able to fully enjoy herself. If he'd been an asshat she might have felt differently. Enough to break her rule? Still no.

She took a bite of the mousse, her eyes rolling back in her head a little at the rich chocolate flavor. "Mmm. Damn. I guess you get to bring back the bravado. It is, admittedly, mindblowing."

"Mindblowing enough to reconsider your 'no sex on the first date' policy?"

"Nope," Jean said, shaking her head. "Points for trying, though."

He put up his hands in mock defeat. "I wouldn't be true to my image if I didn't try. Now eat up, so you can shower me with praise and adoration."

Jean laughed. "So humble. You'd give the pope a run for his money," she said with a grin, then acquiesced to his order. Not that she had much to argue about. It was pretty damn good.

All and all not a bad night though.

She just wondered how this all was going to end.