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Do not overfeed him. He needs to be in bed by seven - he may not seem tired but he'll settle down. Any earlier, and he'll be awake in the middle of the night. I have a list of books you can choose from to read from him; they're by his crib. Call me if you have trouble with anything, or if he is giving you any trouble at all. Or if he starts crying. Lucy and I will both have our phones on.
It was just the tail end of a large list of instructions for her brother. Since his birth, Penny has not let anyone outside of her wife look after their son alone. But tonight would be the first - and possibly the last. Michael was the person she trusted most besides her wife.
So she sat at a table, back straight and hands in her lap with a closed menu in front of her. The glass of wine had yet to be touched. They had left all but twenty minutes ago, and the anxiety wore through her red lipstick.
Sitting across a table in a public setting from this girl had never been Lucy's forte. Their track record together was hardly bright; hell, managing to wait around for food to actually be placed in front of them was an anomaly when it came to something like this. But it was nice to get out of the house for a change. She herself got to do it every day. It might have just been for work, but it was still a kind of escapism that wasn't awarded to her wife.
So when it was there - a decent offer in the form of her older brother - it was odd to see her so apprehensive. Lucy knew there were so few in this world Penny would even let hold him, so she shouldn't have been surprised. But she decided in tow to give it a shot. What was the worst that could happen?
Well, the answer was this. She watched from the other side without a single connection to her name as the proverbial gears shifted in the mind of the person she loved most. Anxiety shone like a beacon. Her phone remained face up on the table in tandem with the ink manipulator's at her request. She leaned back in her seat in silence and looked away to the people milling about the restaurant. The individuals with their hands clasped together across the pristine white tabletop.
Exhaling a sigh, she dragged her fingers through her hair as the motion brought her gaze back to square one.
"Should we just go?" Lucy asked her, eyebrows knit together with concern. But not for their son, it was just for her.
Penelope attempting to act normal was probably the biggest sign of an abnormality in the psychometrist. Nothing could hide the anxiety blooming within her chest as she glanced down to the black face of her phone, and then to Lucy's. There had been strict ruling of no devices at any dinner table they sat at, but a lot had changed since the birth of their son. This was just part of it now. As she glanced around, Penny was unable to catch her gaze, and her own dark eyes shifted focus to something more distant - she was barely there.
Until a familiar accent asked her a very specific question, and the Brit's head snapped towards Lucy, eyebrows shooting upward in surprise. Though, she really should have seen this coming. "No." Penny stated firmly, taking in a long, deep breath. Her eyes squeezed shut for a moment before she finally reached for the wine, the stem of the glass slipping between two of her fingers before she drew it to her mouth. For possibly the first time, she considered having something stronger, but instead, she looked across the table to bright red hair and concerned eyes.
Lucy's eyes shot to the familiar hand that reached for the glass at her side like a lifeline. She couldn't help but scrutinise the move, deciding it was either because she needed the drink to survive, or people she wanted it to look like she was engaged in their setting. It'd been a firm no out of her mouth, and so the ink manipulator chose to give her the benefit of the doubt. Or at least, she tried to.
As she stared at the woman she loved, Lucy wondered if it was obvious just how much she didn't believe the next statement she offered. Her tongue ran the length of her lower lip slowly, either to coax a better set of words out of her mouth, or to stop her from talking all together. "It's okay, seriously." Lucy continued on, grabbing her phone as her eyes went with it. Shifting in her seat slightly, she slid it into her back pocket.
"This is the first time I reckon I've sat across a table from you knowing I'm not the biggest thing on your mind." She explained, raising her eyebrows once. Her keys left the table and settled in her hand; "That's shitty, love. So let's just go."
She probably had taken a bigger sip of wine than she had initially needed to. When the glass settled back on the table, she was reaching for her phone and keys. Like it was really okay, even after Penny had stated she wanted to stay. The psychometrist hadn't even reacted to the curse that filtered through her wife's lips, because instead her dark eyes grew wide with the content of Lucy's statement.
Her hand stretched out across the table, palm up as her fingers beckoned for a connection. Instant regret filled the Brit's expression as she tilted her head to the side a fraction. "Lucy," she tried, but she knew there would have to be more.
"I wouldn't have said yes if I hadn't wanted this."
The way Penny said her name was almost bruising. It certainly worked to stop Lucy in her motion. Thankfully so too, as she was mere moments from physically standing and pulling whatever notes she had out of her front pocket.
There was determination in the way she continued on. There were arguments, and then there was the psychometrist genuinely trying to sell something. She still wasn't sure. She even looked at her with scrutiny. It wasn't that she didn't trust her - Lucy was positive Penny wanted to feel that way - she just didn't believe it.
"Oh yeah? Prove it." Lucy challenged, a little more harshly than she usually would have. Now, it was about getting to a different point. She squared her shoulders; it wasn't often she blatantly denied the wishes of her love. "Drink that bloody wine and order another one."
As if that wasn't a big enough ask; "Oh, and put your fucking phone away."
It was so rare for her love to use a harsh tone like that to the psychometrist - there were arguments, and then there was this. What was worse, was that Penny was denied the one thing she asked for. Her hand withdrew, eyebrows lowering with the sting of rejection. But there was more; two demands, or rather challenges for the Brit to prove herself. She exhaled a heavy sigh, reaching for her glass again.
Because she tipped it back, the dry liquid disappearing quickly before them. It wasn't the proper way to drink wine, but Penny knew more than anyone that Lucy wasn't the biggest fan of proper. A napkin touched her lips briefly as she took her phone with her free hand, sliding it into her purse. There was an overt desire to check it before it disappeared entirely - somehow, she resisted.
In perfect timing, the server returned to them for the order. "The squash ravioli, please." Penny gave her order, and with a pause she glanced at Lucy as he asked if she'd like another glass of wine. "No, thank you, but I'll have a dry martini."
Okay, in honesty Lucy didn't expect to get any of the things she'd asked for. She expected an argument. A reasonable one, but one nonetheless. The first and easiest point to hit was to watch the psychometrist down the wine instead of savouring it. Had it stopped there, Lucy would have been happy with any kind of win. She didn't win much as it was.
And then her phone was gone. Maybe that was the biggest thing about the trio of requests. She definitely didn't expect that to happen, considering how intensely she'd been looking at it only seconds before. She didn't even look at it before it disappeared from view. Safe to say, Lucy was settling in her seat again.
When she ordered food, Lucy rose her eyebrows, surprise striking her at the secondary order. She felt a set of eyes land on her instantly after that. They weren't familiar, but they spouted some polite request about taking her order.
"Fuck off." She spat, but her eyes refused to leave her counterpart. And even though they both knew she'd ditto the order in the end, she couldn't help herself; "I'm not ready yet."
Very rarely would Penny give into a demand, even from her wife and especially if it was so harshly ordered. It was letting go of a little bit of the control she so desperately clung to, more so over the past few months. Although there was an ache in the corner of her mind wishing to check her phone, Lucy still knew how to pull her attention. If not from the way she spoke to her, but then the server trying to take her order. Her eyebrows quirked upward, lips pursing with the curse her love threw into the air.
Now, she was pushing it. As if Penny could preach on her behavior towards a stranger. "She'll have the same," the Brit replied coolly, correcting her wife and the server as she pressed her palms together, eyes refusing to leave the set that were so intensely locked with her own. "Thank you."
She couldn't tell - nor did she particularly care - how disgruntled the server was by then, but they had taken the pair of menus and walked off.
There it was; rejection in the form of a potentially cold stare. Almost immediately she was corrected, like being scolded not only for swearing, but for doing so so harshly. Lucy didn't fight it. Maybe it was because she knew she'd already gotten away with a lot in the last five minutes.
"She won't be having a fucking martini, that's forsure." Lucy offered then, unaware if their server was even still around. The menu before her may as well have disappeared into thin air; "She's pretty psyched you're branching out beyond the realms of wanky as wines, though." And with it, the ink manipulator wore a broad grin as she leaned back in her seat. Somehow, it was like being younger again.
The server might have been within earshot, but given Lucy's harsh nature, Penny would have been surprised if they listened to another word she said. It instantly seemed as if things had turned around completely. Her wife was settling back in her seat with that obnoxious grin, when minutes ago she was ready to leave. Penny leaned forward, forearms pressing to the table while tactfully keeping her elbows off it.
"They're going to spit in our food," she pointed out flatly, but she somehow doubted Lucy cared. It was so very much like her not to care, especially when the psychometrist cared about everything.
Amongst the minor silence and as her counterpart leaned forward, Lucy reached for the bottle on her side of the table. Nonchalant didn't begin to cover how she cradled the neck between her fingers and took a long drink. Despite the movement - the tilt of her head in her desperation - she still kept her eyes on the woman who decided to split the space between them. But she didn't move to meet her. Not yet, anyway.
Dropping her arm and her drink from her lips, the ink manipulator shrugged. "Pretty sure you can just tell me when the plates get here." She reasoned. Lucy wasn't one to often gloat about the ability her love carried, but even she had to admit it would be amazing to watch them be returned because they didn't expect a meta at the table.
"And," She continued on, dragging the word out in an almost exasperated tone, "What kind of dumbass virgin dropkick interrupts what probably looks like an argument to take an order?"
With mention of her ability, Penny immediately pursed her lips into a hardened, thin line. Amusement never took form in the idea of the psychometrist ever actually used her abilities. The thought never would have occurred to her, but the idea of someone poisoning their meal irked her.
Penny let out a quick sigh, her eyes dropping to her now empty glass. Another one couldn't be brought to the table quickly enough. It seemed as if all the bottle up cursing was coming loose in waves with her counterpart. When her gaze met the ink manipulator again, she offered the most disapproving look she could, which - given their history - was likely the wrong move. Lucy was fueled by reaction.
Her lips parted, intent on a harsh reply, but the virgin dropkick - as Lucy put it - was returning, two martinis on the serving plate. She was silent as they were placed on the table in front of them.
That disapproving look she got had Lucy raising her eyebrows, her mind working wonders to piece together a solution. "No offense, babe." She added then. "There's totally nothing wrong with late bloomers."
And then she laughed, under her breath but it was so obviously pointed towards her.
It felt like a loss when two identical drinks landed on the table before them. Lucy narrowed her eyes on the guy, and the second one was put in front of her, her fingers pressed to the stem and she eased it across the table towards her love.
Then she winked at him, grimacing through her obvious grin with the silent notion that yes, they were both for her, and it was definitely going to get messy.
Penny didn't make note of the probably concerned look the server had as a glass was shifted in her direction. No, dark eyes narrowed on her wife - her love - who she was fighting the desire to slap. Just a little bit. Not a word came from the psychometrist, not even a thank you to the poor person that had to wait on them this evening.
Her fingers twirled around the pin in her drink, two large olives secured on the end as she swirled it around the pure hard alcohol in the long stemmed glass. Once the server was gone, she dared to speak. "One of those is yours." It wasn't a suggestion.
