[closed]

[cactusy]

WHO: John Reese (aimsforknees), Sameen Shaw (cactusy)
WHEN: mid-February
WHERE: the Library
WHAT: dinner, team hangouts, awkward buddies being awkward
NOTES\WARNINGS: n/a for now

At 7pm on the dot, Shaw shows up to the door to John and Harold's quarters, a canvas tote bag slung over her shoulder and a leash for Bear looped around the opposite arm (she takes this joint custody thing seriously, and plans to bring him back to her apartment for the night). She lifts a hand to knock, then pauses, peering upwards suspiciously. Do they have a doorcam? They must have a doorcam.

"Hey, Reese," she says, her voice at a conversational pitch. Not too loud, so he won't hear her unless he either has her on audio or is standing right by the door. "Let me in."

If it doesn't work, then she'll knock like a normal person, but she wants to try this out first.

Comments

[aimsforknees]

Of course they have a doorcam. And even a motion sensor that lets them know when someone is there. John doesn't even pretend they don't exist and doesn't let Shaw get as far as knocking, he just unlocks the door and steps aside to let her in without comment. He expected her to be on time so dinner is just barely out of the oven and the smell of roasted pork wafts out of the kitchen. Bear trots over to the door, tail wagging excitedly.

[cactusy]

"How's it going, buddy?" Shaw says to Bear, dropping the leash on the ground by the door and shifting the bag on her shoulder so that she can scrub both hands over his torso. Don't get her wrong, John; she's glad to see you, too. But Bear is her best boy.

"I brought stuff," she proclaims, setting the tote on the counter. There's a plastic-wrapped baguette inside, and underneath that, something in tupperware.

[aimsforknees]

That's exactly what John expected out of this, so he just closes the door behind her and heads into the kitchen, letting her have as much time as she wants with Bear. He knows where he stands in the pecking order. Besides, he has meat to slice.

When she enters the kitchen he looks up from his carving. The baguette is welcome, but. "You didn't need to bring anything."

[cactusy]

"I made soup," she says, matter-of-factly, as if it's silly for him to even be questioning it. "I told you I would someday. And I bought some bread because-- I dunno, you're supposed to bring bread when somebody invites you over for dinner, aren't you?"

Look, Shaw doesn't get invited to a lot of dinners at other people's houses; she's pretty much just stabbing in the dark when it comes to figuring out the norms.

[aimsforknees]

John just gives Shaw a blank stare, pausing cutting the pork. He has no clue, are you supposed to bring bread? This whole thing is so outside what he knows. The fact that he can field strip his gun with his eyes closed but doesn't know how to have someone over to dinner speaks volumes. They're both so bad at this.

"What kind of soup?" he asks, resuming slicing the pork. The bone is already out, he's just working through making slices of the meat. He supposes he'll have to cut the bread too.

[cactusy]

"The onion and egg soup I told you about. There's enough for leftovers."

For Finch, she means; she's not sure if him showing up is in the cards tonight, but even if not, she hasn't forgotten him. Leaving Bear, she trails over to the kitchen counter, watching John's progress.

"Want any help?"

[aimsforknees]

Leftovers is nice. Harold isn't planning on making an appearance tonight so John was already planning on saving some for him. There's a sauce in a small pot on the stove, roasted brussels spouts on a baking sheet, and John almost finished slicing pork on the only cutting board. But there is something she can help with, and he doesn't think Shaw is particularly interested in just standing around waiting for him.

"Upper cabinet all the way on the left, there's some serving bowls. Grab a smaller one for the sauce and a larger one for the brussels sprouts. You can also set the table."

[cactusy]

"'Set the table'?" Shaw echoes, in a tone with a clear subtext of that's adorable. Even when she cooks for herself, she's an eating-on-the-couch type of girl more often than not: she doesn't think she's arranged actual place settings since she was in college and home visiting her mom.

That doesn't stop her from heading over to the cabinets and starting to do as requested, mind. She's just going to make fun of him a little as she does it.

[aimsforknees]

John studiously ignores her tone. He's not serving a nice dinner like this somewhere that isn't the table. Besides, that's where he and Harold have their dinners, it seems perfectly normal to him.

He already has a serving platter next to him, so he arranges the slices of pork on there before washing the cutting board. After a quick dry he starts slicing the bread and then realizes he doesn't have anywhere to put that. "And can you get me something for the bread?"

[cactusy]

She nods and turns back to the cabinet, then hesitates.

"Uh-- something to put the bread on, or something to put on the bread? You want a plate, or you want the butter?"

Sorry, John. She really and truly sucks at this.

[aimsforknees]

"Something to put the bread on. But if you want butter for your bread it's in the dish on the counter by the fridge." Very helpfully, he has an answer for both questions. He was planning to grab the butter himself but sees no reason why she can't do it instead.

[cactusy]

With the table fully set (and decently well, even; just because she doesn't do it often doesn't mean she's forgotten how to) and the bread in a bread bowl, Shaw does indeed grab the butter next, plopping it down like a centerpiece in the middle of the table.

"Wine glasses? Might as well complete the fancy dinner look."

[aimsforknees]

He's finished cutting the rest of the bread and filled up the rest of the bowl she picked out, and picks up both that and the plate of meat to carry them over to the table. "I didn't think you were a wine person, Shaw."

He's pretty sure he's only ever seen her drink hard alcohol.

[cactusy]

"You can't have whiskey with a meal like this, John," she admonishes, faux-scandalized. "Not after we've broken out the fine china."

[aimsforknees]

If he was the type to roll his eyes he would here. Instead he just goes to fetch the wine glasses and a bottle of wine. Something appropriate. Once upon a time he wouldn't have known what is, but Harold has taught him enough about wine during their partnership that he has an idea about that now. When he returns he sets the wine glasses out and starts uncorking the wine with raised eyebrows.

"Happy?"

[cactusy]

"Much better."

She pulls two chairs out far enough that one could comfortably take a seat in them, then starts the last step on her own: getting a third serving bowl for the soup, which gets deposited onto the table with everything else.

"Did you eat like this at home?" she asks, surveying the spread.

[aimsforknees]

John pours the wine while she gets herself a bowl for the soup and sets the glasses down on the table before taking a seat. Once she's sitting he starts piling food on his plate, take some of everything, even putting some of her soup in his bowl.

"I don't get much time to cook between numbers so it's mostly takeout, but I cook when I can. Usually something simpler than this. I have more free time here." That's true, and it's also true that he needs to fill that free time. And, he knows Harold is used to finer dining. John isn't a professional chef, he certainly can't cook to the standard Harold is used to, but he can make an effort.

[cactusy]

"Too much free time. At this rate, I'm going to have to find a hobby."

She says it like the very idea disgusts her - though as she plops down into her chair and digs into her meal, it's clear that the results of this hobby are appreciated.

[aimsforknees]

"You're not allowed to start cleaning the library, that's my job." Really, exercising, cleaning the library, and cooking are all that he has these days.

There were a couple weeks where he helped with Harold's extremely noisy baby bird, but it's independent now. But it's true that the library is spotless. Regardless of if people come or go, John routinely dusts and mops the library so it practically gleams in the weak winter light.

[cactusy]

"Oh, yeah?" She quirks a brow at him. "You wanna play maid for my apartment, too?"

[aimsforknees]

"You're a big girl, I'm sure you can manage that on your own." He's pretty sure it wasn't a real offer, he can't imagine Shaw actually wanting him in her space like that, but also— he doesn't want to be in her space like that. It was one thing to go to her apartment back home and find she got kidnapped, it's another thing to agree to clean it.

[cactusy]

All of this is true, technically: she could bring him over for a dinner like this one, sure, but like hell would she let him poke around. That doesn't stop her from grinning faintly at him over her plate, though.

"But I want to encourage your hobbies."

[aimsforknees]

John looks at her, deadpan as he chews his bite of food. Is it a hobby?

"I've always considered it more of a job. Think you could afford to pay me?"

He knows how to tease back, which is clearly what she's doing here.

[cactusy]

"We don't have money here," she retorts smugly. "We live in a barter economy. And I just paid you with soup and bread."

In exchange for meat, but shhhhh.

[aimsforknees]

He's not falling for that one, Shaw.

"You brought bread and soup to dinner, that's not the same thing at all."

[cactusy]

"Then I'll find another hobby that benefits you."

She arches an eyebrow, briefly setting down her fork so that she can make direct, sustained eye contact, a faint grin playing across her face.

"Chauffeur."

Harold has told her about your fast car, John.

[aimsforknees]

He doesn't catch on to what she's hinting at.

"Who would I chauffeur and where? You don't need it and Finch doesn't go out."

[cactusy]

"Oh, yeah?" she says, smugly. "Then what are you doing with that fancy new car of yours? Don't tell me it's just for show."

[aimsforknees]

Oh, that. He rarely thinks about it.

"If you want to drive it so much you could just ask."

[cactusy]

"Do you ever drive it?"

She's curious now, not jokey or fake-instigating. He's never shown the same inclination for sports cars and motorcycles that she has, but then again, he's John. He's not exactly an open book.

[aimsforknees]

"Not really, it seems like more of a hassle than anything. I'm never in a rush to get anywhere."

He also thinks if he drove it he'd get the urge to do something irresponsible, so he hasn't given in to that temptation. Harold built it strong but there's a limit of how much abuse any car can take, and there's Harold's disapproval too. No need to go down that path just because he's bored and needs entertainment.

[cactusy]

John, John, John.

"Do you... want it?"

[aimsforknees]

It's very obvious where this is going.

"If you want to drive it, you could just ask."

[cactusy]

"I do want to drive it," she says. "And if you don't want to drive it at all, I'll gladly take it off your hands."

[aimsforknees]

"I might want to drive it some day, but you can have the keys."

He doesn't even bother telling her to keep it in good condition; Shaw is too much of a nut for cars to treat it poorly.

[cactusy]

That's honestly a way better deal than she thought she'd get from a teasing, unserious conversation, so before he can take it back, she immediately says, "Deal." Shared custody of both Bear and the car? She's making out like a bandit here. It's enough to make her grin, albeit faintly, as she takes another bite of pork.

[aimsforknees]

[ A smile from Shaw? It puts him in a good mood to see it. They haven't worked together for that long (for him) but he understands well enough how rare they are. He takes a spoonful of soup. ]

Soup is good.