Chapter Text
“How’s the strawberry?” asked Hailey, the moment her lips released her straw. Her blue eyes peered across the table from just above her excessively tall milkshake glass. The question was asked like Jean’s reaction to her own beverage was the most important thing in the world.
“Delicious,” Jean replied with a smile to show she was being sincere, not just polite. The strawberry milkshake was indeed divine, made with freshly blended fruits and far, far too much ice-cream.
“Good,” Hailey smiled, “Just don’t drink it too quickly. Brain freeze is a killer, you know.”
“Yes, I hear it claims as many lives a year as motoring accidents,” Jean quipped back, “or throwing yourself into freezing cold water,” she added, with an arched brow.
Hailey threw her head back and laughed, a loud and unfiltered laugh that filled the rather pokey diner they were sat in, and caused most of the other customers to turn briefly towards the noise. “You lived to tell the tale, didn’t you?”
“Yes. I suppose I did. That one and several others.” Jean referred to the other escapades that Hailey had managed to talk her into. It had become their tradition of sorts, starting with that evening on the beach. While Iris and Millie were otherwise occupied with children and a police officer respectively, Hailey would take Jean somewhere. Somewhere that she considered to be a must-see for any visitor to the Golden City. Jean had agreed with the assessment on most occasions, a picnic in the Redwood Forest being one of the highlights. Even the more questionable excursions – visits to the grimiest dive bars where the beer was warm, but the music wonderful, or that time they’d played crazy golf despite being equally terrible at it – had been thoroughly enjoyable hours thanks to the present company. Though Jean knew exactly what Hailey was doing - taking pity on an old woman who would otherwise be left alone in the house whilst her friends got on with living - she still appreciated the chance to make some memories of her own.
“And, you know, trying one of these probably won’t defeat the mighty Jean McBrian either,” Hailey said, motioning towards the large pile of fries that still sat on her plate.
Jean sighed. She’d had her suspicions this was coming when Hailey had ordered a large serving of fries, on top of a cheeseburger which was already big enough to constitute a whole meal on its own. “Defeat? Oh no, dear. Offend? Most likely.”
“Come on,” Hailey urged. She made a point of studying her plate carefully, before picking out the largest fry in the pile and holding it out towards Jean. The poor, tortured slither of potato flopped in Hailey’s grasp, entirely unappealing. “If you try it, I promise I’ll find a place that does fries – sorry, chips – like the Brits do next time.”
“Blackmail?” Jean feigned offence, but really the promise of a decent chip was too tempting to pass up. She reached out and took the offered fry, “Cheers,” she said before taking a bite. The fry was greasy, and salty, and rather delicious for it. “Not bad,” Jean admitted and finished the other half, “though they’d be better if they were thick enough to handle a little vinegar.” She washed the fry down with a hearty sip of milkshake.
Hailey grinned. “Well, a promise is a promise. I better get researching. Next time I take you out, chips are definitely on the menu.”
Jean made to smile around her straw. The expression faltered and turned instead to a grimace as the tip of the straw jammed into the roof of her mouth, Hailey’s choice of words hitting her square in the face. Just as violently as a good, old fashioned Glaswegian hello.
Take you out .
It surely couldn’t mean - could it? Jean straightened up on her seat, the shiny, red leather upholstery of the booth squeaking out a protest. She tried to study her dinner companion discreetly as Hailey made short work of the rest of the fries. Jean’s eyes darted from her face, to the checkered floor and back again. Her mind worked even faster than her eyes, recollecting every moment spent alone with Hailey, mining the gathered information like she would tease out the meaning of a coded lexicon. Jean had to admit that their little adventures could be construed as dates. If she was twenty years younger. If she was in any way the sort of woman that a lovely, young mechanic with a whole, bright future ahead of her would even consider stepping out with. She wasn’t that sort of woman. She was Jean McBrian. Sensible and slowing down. A tad on the dull side, if she was being perfectly blunt with herself. So no, this couldn’t be Hailey’s attempt at courting her. It was too improbable.
“So, what do you want for dessert?”
“Dessert?” Jean repeated the word like she’d never heard it before, too embroiled in her own thoughts to truly comprehend the question. Her brain was currently reviewing the various trips to the pictures they had taken together. They had watched Sirk's All that Heaven Allows at Hailey's insistence. A film that involved a relationship between a man and an older woman. Had Hailey been trying to tell her something? Impossible. It was an enjoyable film, that was all. That had to be all. Hailey was not trying to woo her.
Hailey cocked her head to the side, “Dessert. You know. The thing you have after your main course. Don’t you call it that?” she asked, blissfully unawares of Jean’s real confusion.
“No, we do. Or pudding.”
“But pudding is a certain kind of dessert! You Brits are real weird.”
“Oh?” Jean prompted, and she wished she were wearing her reading glasses just so she could peer over them.
“Don’t worry,” Hailey responded, putting up her palms in surrender, “I kinda like it.” There was no missing the reddening of Hailey’s face as she spoke. Her cheeks went pinker than Jean’s milkshake. “Anyway.” Hailey paused to clear her throat. “We should get ice-cream.”
“Isn’t ice-cream and milkshake a little redundant?” Jean pointed out. It was a struggle to keep her voice at an even pitch, for her previously reached conclusion had just been unmistakably proven false. She was being courted. By Hailey Yarner.
“Jean! Don’t go all ‘too much of a good thing’ on me,” Hailey protested. “Too much of something can be good. Some might say we’ve spent too much time together, for instance. Don’t see you complaining about that.”
Jean smiled despite herself, finding Hailey’s words far too sweet not to let them affect her.
“See,” Hailey gestured to Jean’s smile, “I’ll never see too much of that. In fact, I’d say I haven’t seen nearly enough.”
Jean felt her face grow warm, her high-collared shirt feeling too tight all of a sudden. Hailey Yarner was flirting. With her. Jean struggled not to laugh out loud. It was such a preposterous notion, and yet she couldn’t possibly deny it now. She did however have to decide what to do with this revelation. After all, where was it likely to lead? Jean still wasn’t entirely sold on the idea of a permanent move to the States. And for all Hailey’s sweet talking, it could turn out to be nothing more than a young woman’s infatuation. A crush that would run its course in due time, and risk leaving Jean looking a sad, old fool if she dared to respond. No, it was better to take the compliment - for what a mighty compliment it was - but do nothing and let Hailey’s feelings peeter out naturally. She would make sure not to do or say anything that might be read as a positive signal. It would be the kindest course of action, when all was said and done.
“Alright, a compromise,” Hailey offered, taking Jean’s silence as an indicator of further dessert-related indecision. “We could share one?”
“I suppose that would be less overfacing,” Jean conceded. “How about a knickerbocker glory?”
“A knickerbucketwhat-now?” Hailey’s eyebrows shot up towards her fringe in confusion. It had the effect of making her eyes look even larger than usual, at least until she narrowed them conspiratorially. “Is that a euphemism?”
“No!” Jean answered, a little too harshly. Still, she did regret bringing the word ‘knicker’ into the conversation. Then again, they had been there, done that, nearly caught hypothermia. It suddenly felt like starting on the back foot, deciding not to flirt with someone who’d already seen you in your smalls. Talked you into them, more accurately. “It’s a type of sundae. You have those, at least?”
“Oh. Yeah. Those we’ve got. Do you want to pick a flavour?”
“I’ll trust your judgement.” Jean didn’t have any delusions about her ability to pick out decent American cuisine. It was all a ‘knickerbucketwhat-now’ to her.
“You’re a brave woman.” Hailey grabbed the menu from the centre of the table and began to pore over the options, index finger tapping against her chin as she considered.
“And you’re trying to butter me up again.”
Hailey jerked her head up from the menu. “Butter? There’s an idea.”
Jean watched, puzzled, as Hailey caught the attention of a passing waitress. It occurred to her that watching Hailey with a slight to middling sense of confusion had become a staple of the time they had spent in each other’s company. It was never a vexing sort of confusion, though. More of an exciting sort, as she tried and usually failed to guess what new trick Hailey was about to pull from up her sleeve.
“Hey, can we get a butterscotch sundae please?”
“Two spoons with that?” the waitress asked, and despite her disinterested tone, Jean’s heart fluttered as she wondered what on earth the waitress must think about them sharing. She probably thought that they were relatives. An aunt and niece perhaps. Or worse, mother and daughter.
“That’d be great. Thanks,” Hailey confirmed, and the waitress sauntered off to fetch the requested dessert.
“Butterscotch,” said Jean, drawing out the word, “very clever.”
“I thought so. Though I’m guessing you’re going to disappoint me. Tell me it wasn’t actually invented in Scotland.”
“I’m afraid not, dear. Yorkshire, I believe.” Jean found herself smiling as an idea dawned on her. “Though, if you wanted to taste some proper Scottish food, we could always try to track down some haggis. I think it’s only fair after my ordeal with your American fries.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a savoury pudding. Seasoned sheep offal served in its stomach,” Jean explained, waiting gleefully for the expected reaction. Unfortunately, it was not to be.
“Huh. Sounds pretty good to me.”
Jean blinked in surprise. “Really?”
“Sure,” Hailey said, with a laugh. “What do you think this Midwestern farm gal grew up on? Sure wasn’t the prime cuts from our livest- wait,” Hailey interrupted herself, “did you say a savoury pudding?”
The disgusted look on Hailey’s face was a picture, and Jean erupted into laughter. “Yes, I did,” she managed to confirm between guffaws. “Honestly, the less you try to comprehend the Queen’s English, the better off you’ll be.”
The laughter kept coming, quickly becoming contagious and spreading across the table, until Jean caught Hailey’s stare. There wasn’t any denying the light in Hailey’s eyes. The twinkle of attraction. So obvious now, that Jean wondered how she ever missed it before. She’d always prided herself on her keen skills of observation, and yet Hailey’s burgeoning crush had nearly slipped under her radar. In her defence, she still couldn’t quite believe it, despite all evidence to the contrary. Though she’d suspected for a long time that she and Hailey shared similar romantic inclinations, she wouldn’t have put a sixpence on those inclinations leading to this most flattering outcome. This potentially disastrous outcome. Jean caught herself and her laughter faded away. She had to step carefully, do nothing to encourage Hailey. That probably meant that raucous giggling and meaningful stares should be off the table.
“One butterscotch sundae and two spoons,” the waitress appeared at the table and set the dessert down with a flourish befitting such a fine looking ice-cream. The arrival of dessert provided a welcome distraction from the imminent awkward silence that would have followed Jean’s sudden mood change.
“Thank you, that looks wonderful,” Jean offered, and the waitress smiled and took her leave. “Goodness, where does one start?”
The sundae came in a glass even taller than the milkshakes and was filled to the point of overflowing with butterscotch ice-cream, laden with syrup. A large wafer adorned the top of the ice-cream mountain, and it was the wafer that Hailey immediately made a grab for. She carefully broke the treat into two nearly-even halves, before offering the larger piece across to Jean.
“Right here,” Hailey said.
The wafer didn’t last long at all, and the ice-cream fared little better. For how full she had felt after her hamburger, Jean put more than a fair share of effort into demolishing the dessert. All too fast, the spoons were clattering together at the bottom of the glass, as they both made for the last, rapidly melting scoop of ice-cream. Jean’s spoon came away triumphant, and without thought, she offered the prize to Hailey. “You did give me the larger piece of wafer,” Jean said, in justification, for Hailey seemed taken aback by the offering and had made no move to claim it. Seconds passed, until Hailey acquiesced, leaned across the table and ate the last morsel off the spoon. Jean’s eyes found themselves drawn to Hailey’s lips as they closed around the ice-cream, then darted elsewhere just as quickly.
Tension filled the air, a tension Jean had tried in vain to avoid. The static cloud remained with them as they got the bill and paid, and followed them into Hailey’s car, forcing Jean to roll down her window for air despite the chill. If the breeze was too cold for Hailey, she never once complained. In fact she said very little, which was telling. She’d usually fill the drive back to Jean and Millie’s home with chatter; pointing out various landmarks they passed, offering anecdotes about working with Iris at the Presidio that she’d never been able to share before, even singing along to the radio. And usually, Jean would chatter right back, the flow of conversation as smooth as the music at the Big Bop. As smooth as it had been at the start of their - she fumbled for the right word, but the only one that fit was the word she feared to utter, even to herself. Their date.
It had been foolish to offer the ice-cream to Hailey. It had been foolish to say yes to ice-cream, to trying a fry, to every ridiculous and wonderful suggestion Hailey had ever put forward.
Jean realised now the futility of her decision not to respond to Hailey’s advances. She’d been responding positively for a long time, without even realising it. Her body leading her somewhere that her mind could barely fathom. And why shouldn’t it? She may have been twenty years older than Hailey, but her heart still pumped warm, red blood through her veins just the same. Her eyes still recognised beauty when they saw it. In the crudest of terms, she wasn’t in the ground yet, nor had she any intention of being in the near future. As unlikely as Hailey being attracted to her was, it had happened, and Jean being attracted to Hailey was absolutely logical. The heart will want what it wants, mind be damned, and everything about Hailey was captivating. So, there they were. Two red-blooded adults, who liked each other a lot. There was nothing so complicated about that.
“Hey! Presidio to Bletchley, come in Bletchley.”
She turned away from the open window, and her thoughts, at the insistent sound of Hailey’s voice.
“I think this is your stop,” Hailey said once she had Jean’s attention.
Jean glanced to the window again, and there her house stood. She hadn’t even noticed the car pulling over. “Oh,” she muttered.
“You were really somewhere else then, huh?”
There was no point in denying it, though ‘entirely too present’ might be more accurate. Jean opted to glaze over an answer. “Thank you for the ride home,” she offered.
“Anytime,” Hailey answered with a lovely, genuine smile that Jean couldn’t help but fully appreciate. When the smile faded, Jean still didn’t look away. Moments passed, and the noises drifting through the window from the street faded to a distant buzz. “Jean,” Hailey started, before falling silent again. “I had a great time today,” she finished. Jean wondered if she had intended to say that when she first spoke her name, and wondered what she might have said or done in response, had Hailey been her usual, daring self.
“So did I.” Jean reached out and placed her hand over Hailey’s, only briefly, but long enough to feel Hailey grip the steering wheel a little tighter. “I’ll see you soon,” she said once she’d retracted her hand.
“You know it.”
With that, Jean got out of the car and began the climb to her front door. She took her key out of her handbag and turned the lock, allowing herself one look back towards the car - Hailey always watched her in - before entering the house and shutting the door behind her. The moment it clicked, she let out an extended sigh, and then her heart skipped as the horn of the car sounded from outside. After the shock, she smiled, assuming it was Hailey saying a last goodbye. In fact, if she had still had a visual on the car, she would have seen Hailey let out a long breath of her own, her forehead planting on the horn and making her jump in the process.
Millie’s ears pricked at the sound of the door to the first-floor apartment clicking shut, her nose buried in the newspaper crossword that had occupied her since she’d got back home. Damn American spellings . “Is that you, Jean?” she asked, though it was unlikely to be anyone else. Since their home had been trashed during the business with the drug gang, they were much more vigilant about locking the door.
“No,” Jean’s voice filled the lounge, “it’s Santa Claus. I’ve come to tell you you’re on the naughty list this year.”
She looked up at her friend with a furrowed brow. “Whatever for? I’m home well before curfew!” she protested. She folded the newspaper in half and balanced it on the arm of her chair.
“Feet. On the coffee table,” Jean answered, pointing out the offending appendages.
Millie dropped her feet to the floor with a groan. “Oh, Jean, allow a girl a little luxury. I’ve walked my bloody feet off today.”
“I assume that means your date went well?” Jean took a seat on the sofa and removed her own shoes. Millie noticed immediately that they were one of Jean’s nicer pairs.
“It did,” Millie confirmed. “Though I’ve never met a man who can talk as much as Bill Bryce can when he gets going.” She and Bill had taken a long walk around the city, going nowhere in particular, just happy to absorb the sights and enjoy the clear weather. Still, there were far too many hills in San Francisco, and Millie’s feet were paying for it.
“Oh wonderful! The poor man might have a chance of keeping up with you, then,” Jean teased.
Millie shot a glare at Jean, though it was all love and no malice. “What about you? Where’ve you been all this time? I’ve been home alone long enough to nearly finish the crossword.”
Jean tutted, “I was saving that crossword for bed tonight!”
“Ooh Jean, you minx! You’ll end up on the naughty list right under my name!” Millie laughed. She tossed the paper over onto the couch with a deft flick of the wrist. “Here, you can finish her off for me.”
“ Charming .”
“So come on, fess up. Where were you?” Millie repeated.
“At some obscure, little diner with Hailey. You know how she doesn’t like to think of me sat in on my own whilst you’re out gallivanting.”
Millie pursed her lips. She knew that there was a lot more to Hailey’s taking Jean here, there and everywhere than simple pity. The woman looked at Jean like the sun shone out of her - well, suffice to say that Hailey had taken more than a platonic liking to her best friend. Millie had been a little surprised when she’d first picked up on Hailey’s growing affections. It wasn’t that she didn’t think that Jean was an absolute treasure of a woman, for she certainly was. One simply didn’t expect someone so young and carefree to not only recognise Jean’s qualities under the prim exterior, but actually covet them. Apparently, the strait-laced, Scottish librarian look was in vogue in sapphic circles these days. What was surprising was the suggestion that Jean wasn’t privy to Hailey’s crush herself. That couldn't be right. Things rarely got past Jean McBrian. A little digging was in order. “That sounds lovely. How was the food?”
“It was sublime. Though entirely too much in retrospect. Like any Scotswoman, I appreciate a generous portion size, but really these Americans can take things too far.”
“And yet they can be such wonderful company,” Millie prompted slyly.
“Yes,” Jean agreed, before pausing to clear her throat, “yes they can be.”
Millie didn’t miss the pinkish tinge that appeared on Jean’s ears, nor the slight upturn at the corner of her mouth, either. This was fascinating. “Is everything alright, chum?”
“Fine, why do you ask?”
“You just don’t seem quite yourself,” Millie said. You’re sitting over there blushing like a schoolgirl, she thought.
“Don’t I? It’s probably a touch of indigestion.” Jean answered, putting a hand to her chest. “Hailey talked me into trying a fry, you know.”
That answer could have gone down as one of the biggest porkers Millie had ever been told, and she’d heard a fair few in her time. If Jean really was suffering from indigestion, she looked inexplicably happy about it, and Millie had never known pink ears to be a symptom. Yet it wouldn’t do to just barrel in and call out the lie. She had been friends with Jean for too long, and she knew that the wrong approach would only make Jean even more tight-lipped than usual. A balance had to be found between zealous interrogation and gentle prodding. “Goodness me!” Millie tried, “You know, I swear that girl has managed to talk you into more trouble than I ever have. What on Earth is her secret?”
“There's no secret,” Jean claimed. “Perhaps I’m not quite as set in my ways as you think.” With that, Jean picked herself up off the sofa and made her way into the kitchen. For how clandestine she was being with her verbal responses, Jean did an awful job of hiding the slight spring in her step.
“Perhaps not,” Millie said under her breath, head cocked to the side as she watched Jean go.
As was often the case, she had uncovered more than she was actually digging for. She’d been trying to ascertain whether or not Jean was aware of Hailey’s crush on her. Instead, she’d seen and heard everything she needed to conclude that Jean was just as sweet on Hailey. To the point of blushing and skipping. Millie always knew that Jean had more life left in her than she showed, but she wasn’t quite expecting that much. Something about Jean and anything to do with romance just didn’t quite compute. Clearly, some recalculations were in order, especially if she was going to help Jean to navigate this new territory. Of course she was going to have to help. This was Jean McBrian. The poor woman would probably fret and over-think the whole thing, and rob herself of the wonderful chance that now lay at her feet. Millie would be no sort of friend if she let that happen. No, she’d have to watch closely, be ready to stage an intervention at any time. If Jean took umbrage with that, well, she’d just have to get over it. Happiness was worth a little discomfort. And nobody was more deserving of happiness than Jean.