juststopped | for Krem

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krem

for Krem

It isn't the first time she's ended up somewhere she didn't necessarily intend. In private, she's done her fair share of crying over Flemming - she misses her daughter like a part of her, even after so many years - but in public, she's decided to put a brave face on it. After he'd delivered her to her apartment, Krem had told her that he'd be happy to take her for dinner, once she felt more settled. Adaline's done a little bit to make the apartment her own. She's gone back to the place that Sam bought her and put together a capsule wardrobe that's a sad shadow of her guest room back in San Francisco. She is, in short, trying. And that has to count for something.

It's the middle of the afternoon when she texts Krem.

Dinner would be nice - Adaline.

They arrange to meet at a place that Adaline's walked past a few times. It's not a particularly showy place, but she does make an effort, putting on a dress with a full skirt that reminds her of something she might have bought new in the fifties. She does her hair and make-up. She considers heels for a long time and then decides to wear them anyway. Krem strikes her as someone who doesn't lack for confidence, quiet though it seems to be.

She's a little late when she steps into the restaurant, shrugging out of her coat to let the hostess check it for her.

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As opposed to Adaline taking the fork from him, Krem leaned over the table just a little, enough to wrap his lips around the tines of the fork and get the bite of pasta from her. It still got a little sauce on his chin, and he laughed at himself a little, pulling back as he smiled, his attempt at a flirtatious move mostly a failure, probably.

He chewed thoughtfully, covering his mouth with his napkin, before he nodded.

"It is good. I'll have to look up a recipe some time."

He's handsome and he smells good and Adaline does get just the tiniest bit flustered when he means in a little closer. She laughs when he gets sauce on him, shaking her head.

"You cook, too? My goodness."

Krem hummed and shrugged. "Mostly home recipes, but I'm a decent hand in the kitchen beside. My mother taught me. Said it would make me a good catch some day."

It had certainly kept the other Chargers well-fed when they were on the road, and none of his friends here in the city complained when he foisted food on them. But it was the furthest thing from his mind these days.

"I do like a man who can cook," says Adaline, smiling, taking another bite of her pasta. "There's something very comforting about it." She takes a sip of her wine. "Maybe your mother had a point."

Krem smiled, and it was a cryptic sort of look for a moment, he knew, because he knew that his mother had not meant anything about him being a husband and a man who could cook. It was simply the neat presentation he was in this city, and had been for years.

"Well, I'm sure she'd appreciate knowing she was right about that," he said, washing the bitterness out of his mouth with a bit more wine.

"My mother was with me the day I met my husband," says Adaline, wistfully, taking another sip of her wine. "She was old-fashioned too. It's one of the reasons that I know how to bake."

Krem didn't pry about the husband, as Adaline had not pried about any partners--past or present--in his own life, but he smiled a little at the idea of his mother meeting anyone he'd been intimate with. She'd probably have died of shock.

"What's your favorite thing to bake?" he asked Adaline, finding that somehow infinitely more interesting than any curiosity he might harbor about a husband who wasn't here anyways. "My mother taught me her family's recipe for lemon cake, that's been my favorite for years."

"Bread," says Adaline, without any hesitation at all. "Any kind of bread. The smell of it is just so glorious." She tilts her head, studying for him for a moment. "What exactly would a girl have to promise to do to get lemon cake baked especially for her?"

"A loaf of bread," Krem said, quite simply and without any particular hesitation. He smiled softly and the effusive confidence he'd had for just a moment eased back to something a bit more sheepish. "And we could make the meal to fit between the two together?"

One of Adaline's eyebrows quirks and she can't help the pleased smile that blossoms across her face.

"Is that you asking me out again?" she says. "Just so we're clear."

Krem smiled, still a little soft and sheepish, and he let himself have a sort of private laugh at his own expense. He sipped his wine, and nodded, minutely.

"If you'd be interested in having dinner together a second time then, yes. I'm asking if you'd like to have dinner again some time."

Adaline pretends to think about it for a second, taking a sip of her wine, brushing a tendril of blonde hair back from her face. She tilts her head, studying him for a moment, wondering if it's possible to make him blush.

"I think I'd like that," she says.

His smile grew wider, a bit more confident again, and he nodded. Internally, he told himself that it was only dinner; this was friendliness, politeness, and nothing more. She was lovely, and he could appreciate that. But he had to be better than he'd been over the past months, and that meant caution first before tumbling head first into anything silly. And dinner was going very nicely.

"Any thoughts on dessert yet?"

"Chocolate," says Adaline, without a hint of hesitation, draining the last of her wine, very aware that that's her second glass. "And more alcohol. I'm definitely not ready to go back to that apartment, yet."

It feels unbelievably lonely without a dog. How long as it been since she was without a dog?

Krem looked at the bottle they had, and laughed softly; they'd mostly finished it off, and he doubted it would have matched well with something chocolate, at any rate. He poured what remained of the bottle into Adaline's glass, since she'd just finished, and hummed as he polished off his second glass as well, happy to be only a moment behind her in their cups.

"Chocolate it is, then. I might have their sommelier recommend something to go along with whatever you pick, though, I'm honestly dreadful with wine pairing."

"Am I keeping you?" asks Adaline, knocking back another long swallow of her wine. She feels warm, loose, relaxed. It's not a feeling she's particularly accustomed to. But nobody knows her here. Here, there's nothing remarkable about her at all. "It occurs to me that you might not be quite as unwilling to go home as I am."

"No," Krem assured, shaking his head as he finished up his plate of food. He laughed softly, a bit embarrassed that his thoughtfulness had been taken for boredom. "No, not at all. I'm having a lovely time. And I'm glad to help you occupy yours, as well."

"I'm having a lovely time as well," she says, setting her glass down with the stem of her glass. She blushes a little, turning her face to the side. "I don't mean to make that sound unexpected."

Krem shrugged a little, not the least offended by the way she phrased it. He smiled, just admiring the way that the light looked on her for a moment, that she had agreed to coming out with him to dinner in the first place. It was all, as they had both said, lovely.

"You know, honestly," he said, and laughed a little. "I haven't a whole lot else to compare to. The going out to dinner part. It hasn't been a part of my, uh. Repertoire. I've mostly just run into friends at the bars or cafes. I haven't been...out much."

"Oh, well, now we have to go out again," says Adaline, feigning concern, leaning across the table to squeeze his hand as though she's reassuring him. "You could be having a terrible time and you wouldn't know it until you've got something to set it next to."

"I definitely know I'm not having a terrible time," Krem said with a bright, cheery deference to her mock concern. Her hand was still just as soft as it had been when they had met; he hadn't imagined that. Boldly, he turned his palm up under her hand on his, and let his fingers brush her wrist.

This time, he was sure his flush showed on his cheeks a little, for how warm they felt. The waiter came and collected their plates for them, and Krem requested a bottle of wine that would go with whatever Adaline ordered for dessert.

Adaline's spent a lot of time avoiding casual touches over the years, avoiding wanting to let anyone in that much. Krem turns his hand and his fingers brush her wrist and Adaline shivers, just a little. A flush of colour rushes into her cheeks, mirroring his. What is she doing here?

Adaline orders a chocolate cake based pudding as well as fruit. She doesn't pull back, doesn't take her hand away, even though she pantomimes giving the waiter her full attention.

The waiter recommended a tawny port to go along with the pudding, and Krem, smiling softly, nodded. He'd had port before, and imagined that it would be a good compliment. He internally complimented himself on his ability to split his attention between the lovely woman across from him and the waiter handling them so professionally; enough, at least, to not make a complete ass of himself.

"I feel it's only fair to say," Krem said when they were left alone again, "that I just got out of a relationship, recently. So. Friends is...a good thing, right now. Not that I was assuming this was--that this was anything beside--but..."

He stumbles and Adaline feels something tender for him, right then. She nods, squeezes his hand and then takes hers away. She smiles, though, to show that she's giving him space rather than chiding him.

"Friends sounds perfect to me," she says. Distance has always served her well, after all.

Something about the distance was blissful and wondrous and still just a little bit heartbreaking, like looking at the moon and the stars, or a particularly beautiful piece of fine art. Krem fidgeted with his wine glass a little, now that his hand was free. The back of his tongue burned with a sudden need to outpour with a hundred overly personal things, none of which needed saying in the slightest. So he kept them in, and sort of laughed at his sudden sheepishness.

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