Chapter Text
On their trip to Jack’s home, the pair felt their banter and balance return to normal, speaking casually about various topics. For the simplicity of it all, Jack was thankful; he was worried enough about the idea of possibly performing under pressure, he didn’t need an uncomfortable ride adding to the stress.
As he pulled into the drive at the side of his bungalow, Jack turned to Phryne. “My ride home usually feels much longer,” his lips tugged, “ and a lot less entertaining.”
Phryne laughed out loud. “Well, your usual ride home probably feels longer because on most nights, it involves stopping at Wardlow for a meal and a nightcap before you ever reach your door.” When he laughed along with her, she felt her heart fill with something akin to adoration.
Jack stepped out of the car and would have come around to open her door, but she was out of her seat before he had the chance. He watched in disbelief as she reached into the backseat and extracted a small bag.
When she turned back around, catching his surprised expression, she grinned and shrugged as a way of innocent explanation. “You really never know who will drop something in your unlocked car, Jack. Lucky for you,” she raised the upscale carpet bag slightly, “this time it was just me.”
He shook his head and laughed, relieving her of the well-travelled luggage. “I generally use the back door,” he nodded to the rear of his home, “but, as this is your first visit, shall we use the front door, so you can have a proper introduction to my home?”
She grinned and threaded her hand through the crook of his elbow, her delicate fingers wrapping around his bicep as she pressed against his side, soaking in his warmth. “I’m fine going through the back,” she smiled, her keen eyes taking in their surroundings and then sweeping across the lovely gardens that bordered the quiet sidewalk. “There is no need to interrupt your routine for my benefit…”
Jack chuckled and motioned towards the front gate. With his eyes trained forward, he felt her fall into step at his side. “Far too late for that, I’m afraid, Miss Fisher. Since first encountering your special brand of interference in Lydia Andrews’ bathroom, most of my routines have been transformed in ways that render them virtually unrecognizable now.”
She smiled impishly, hearing the dry humor in his delivery and delighting in his playfulness. Pressing herself against his arm, she thought about how much she simply enjoyed Jack’s company. “Allow me to apologize, then, for interrupting your neat and orderly existence.”
Escorting her up the cobblestone footpath that meandered through his front garden, he tilted his head thought. “I wasn’t complaining, Miss Fisher, just stating the facts.”
Her cheeks grew warm with an uncharacteristic blush. Inhaling sharply, intent to deliver a witty retort, her words suddenly died in her throat. She glanced around, turning in place, a wonderful scent filling her lungs. Pulling Jack to a stop as well, she sniffed the air eagerly, raising her nose in a perfect imitation of a bloodhound on the scent of her quarry ( not that Jack would ever make the comparison aloud, lest he feel the wrath for insulting his otherwise elegant partner…).
“What is that, Jack?”
Pride filled his chest; the hobby-gardener couldn’t remember the last time someone had commented on the sweet floral scents of his humble garden. He nodded towards the hedge of shrubbery running beneath his front window, the tiny white flowers glowing beneath the moonlight.
“My osmanthus evergreens are blooming.” He placed her bag on the stone path and walked her through the grass, drawing closer to the source of the fragrance, encouraging her to sniff the blooms by doing so himself.
They were both bent at the waist, their faces practically buried in the clusters of tiny blossoms, when she reached out and grabbed his hand, twining their fingers effortlessly.
“Jack,” she whispered reverently, feeling as though they were standing in a sacred place. She inhaled again and turned her head to look at him, remaining bent over and engulfed in the blossoms. “They smell like apricots !” She laughed for the pure joy of laughing and relished in the sweet scent again. “It smells like I just cut into a fresh, juicy fruit. It’s amazing! I wish I could eat it!”
He chuckled at the innocent quality of her exclamation and at the way she licked her lips at her own imagination. He liked to think he was one of only a privileged few allowed to see her completely relaxed, removed, however briefly, from societal expectations and pretenses.
“They are some of my favorites,” he admitted. “The roses, lavender, jasmine - they are… standard .... Don’t get me wrong, they’re each lovely and magnificent in their own rights, but this one… It’s hard to beat this.” He sniffed again, just because she was and he was enjoying the experience of seeing them anew through her eyes. “Although,” he continued in a hushed voice, as if he didn’t want the osmanthus plants to realize he was about to disrespect them, “I have something out back that is even more tempting…”
She stood upright immediately, her ever-curious eyes snapping wide. “Something more tempting than apricot-scented evergreen blossoms?”
He chuckled softly and straightened his posture, as well. “You’ll have to wait a couple more months, though… My Port Wine Magnolia won't be in full bloom until mid-spring. ”
Phryne couldn’t stop the gleeful pout that tugged at the corners of her lips. “You’re a horrible tease, Jack Robinson! Telling me that you have something out back that trumps the decadence of these flowers, only to then tell me I have to wait!” She bent and stuck her nose back into a cluster.
“Well, it will give you a reason to return…” He dipped down and spoke close to her ear. “When it’s in all its glory, you’d swear you were smelling a banana sundae with vanilla ice cream…”
Phryne burst out laughing as she pushed upright again. “Of course , you have flowers that smell like food! Always thinking of your stomach!”
Jack pressed his lips together to bite back the grin, but his eyes danced with laughter. He shrugged one shoulder nonchalantly and boldly reached out to reclaim her hand. “What can I say, Miss Fisher? I know what I like…” As he spoke, he plucked a few blossoms from the plant and tucked the conjoined stem behind her ear. Then, he leaned close enough to smell the fruity-floral goodness as it mixed with the scents of her French perfume and honeyed shampoo. “And I like to surround myself with all manner of intoxicating fragrances...”
She shivered as his breath ghosted her cheek when he spoke, her body reacting without permission to the delicious quality of his husky, baritone timbre.
~MFMM~
After a moonlit tour of the rest of his front garden, their interactions easy and positively overflowing with double entendres, Jack finally guided her up the stairs to his front door. He should have felt weary with exhaustion after the last couple of hellish days, but with The Honorable Phryne Fisher at his side, bubbling with newfound energy (courtesy of, he was sure, an opportunistic kip she likely managed at her home), the DI was surprisingly alert. He tried to recall, as he unlocked the door, when he’d last dusted his front room, and hoped it wouldn’t prove to be too unsightly.
With a sweep of his hand, he welcomed Miss Fisher to enter his home. “Welcome to Robinson Manor , Miss Fisher,” he quipped dryly.
“Well, thank you, Inspector Robinson,” Phryne responded playfully, complete with a haughty air and a slight curtsy before she entered the foyer. She grew excited at the idea of uncovering even more layers of her buttoned-up, noble Inspector.
Jack lifted the coat from her shoulders, and hung it from the peg beside his. Accepting her cloche when she unpinned it, he placed it carefully on the small entrance table, reluctant to be the cause of any further millinery casualties.
“Did you eat dinner, Miss Fisher?”
“I did,” she nodded distractedly, her eyes unable to stop scanning the small room adjoining the entry hall.
Jack smirked. “Well, then,” he motioned to the room that seemed to be pulling her in, “perhaps you’d like a drink? I’ll see to the fire first and you’re welcome to make yourself at home.”
She smiled broadly. “If you want me to feel truly at home…”
“ Yes , Miss Fisher, I know - you want to snoop… ” He chuckled and squatted before the fireplace. “I’ve nothing to hide, snoop away.”
“I do not snoop, Jack Robinson!” She sounded downright indignant, but couldn’t stop the giddy energy that was bubbling up. “But I do like to investigate, as you well know!”
“I’m not sure there’s a difference with you,” he muttered jokingly, which earned him a gentle slap on the back of his shoulder. With a deep chuckle, he looked up at her from his place on the floor by the hearth. “Like I said, Miss Fisher, make yourself at home.” He knew that she would be unable to stop herself from snooping around his place, he’d resigned himself to his fate the moment his brain decided to accept the challenge she’d put forth about bringing her to his home. Gone, now, were his days of careful separation between work and personal… though he couldn’t bring himself to care.
Phryne practically clapped with glee and spun on her heel, deciding where she’d start. Spotting a gramophone on the far corner of the small room, she set her sights on first perusing his collection of recordings. She was delighted to see a vast mix of musical genres in Jack’s repertoire, ranging from classical to local recordings, and surprisingly, some more popular artists and jazz collections.
“Jack,” she smiled, “your taste in music is quite impressive.” Her coyness came through. “All this time I’ve suspected you were a Mozart- and Bach - man, but these,” she held up the newer, more popular records, “give you a whole new dimension.”
Jack grinned and pushed up from his station by the fire, now the flames were lit and catching well. “You always say you prefer a constant source of mystery… If I reveal too many secrets too soon, you are likely to grow bored; so I’m forced to play my cards close to my chest...” He shoved his hands into his pockets and casually crossed the room to where she stood. “Once you learn all there is to know, you might cast me aside for some other man of mystery… and selfishly, I am not in a hurry for that to happen...”
Phryne grew serious. Despite the teasing quality in his tone, she suspected that, deep down, his assumptions were based on some long-suppressed fear. She didn’t want him to think she was taking the idea of ‘them’ lightly.
Phryne hadn’t allowed herself to love anyone for a long time; Rene had ruined the notion of love for her. Jack’s steady presence at her side, though, day in and day out, demonstrated to her that permitting love into her life didn’t necessarily mean losing herself in the process.
“Jack,” she blindly set the pile of records down and raised her hand to his cheek, standing directly in front of him. “The likelihood of me casting you aside for anyone else is preposterous, no matter how many secrets you have or have not revealed.”
He searched her eyes, sensing her genuine seriousness, but he didn’t want her to think he would ever force demands upon her. Jack’s hands gravitated to her hips and his fingers flexed against her softness. “Phryne, I know you don’t subscribe to the notion of monogamy… I’m not asking you to change, I promised long ago that I’d never ask you to change… But-“
“I know you aren’t asking, Jack,” she cut him off, not willing to let him completely sacrifice his own feelings. “I can’t continue to deny that something in me has already changed, though. Something I don’t fully understand and most certainly didn’t anticipate… The more time I spend in your company, the less I want to spend with other men... I’m not saying that I will ever marry,” she wanted to put that right out there, so there’d be no misunderstandings, “but if you think you would be satisfied with me, in every sense aside from giving up my name, I can’t imagine a time when I’d want anyone else.”
She swallowed nervously, surprised at her own declaration. They hadn’t discussed entering into an actual relationship, they’d merely been following their baser instincts once the tension became overwhelming. “That is… If you are interested at all in the kind of relationship into which our partnership could evolve… If you’re not, if you are looking for more , if you need to have a woman who can promise forever and promise marriage, then I will always treasure what we have and I will support you in any way I can.”
Jack’s hands released her hips, choosing, instead, to cradle her face. “Phryne, I’ve been married… I wasn’t good at it.” He raised his eyebrows sardonically. “If I wanted another marriage, I never would have set my sights on a thoroughly modern woman, and I certainly wouldn’t have let her steal my heart…”
“Jack,” she breathed, biting back tears of relief that she didn’t know were threatening to escape. “So, are we…” her brow wrinkled and she started to grin. “Are we… doing this?”
Leaning in, his nose brushed hers playfully. “We are most definitely doing this, Miss Fisher…” Sealing the promise with a kiss, he hummed when she threw her arms around his shoulders and pulled him down to her level. The involuntary grins that battled against the intensity of the kiss morphed into mutual chuckles of happiness as they dueled for control.
If The Honorable Phryne Fisher gave in, uncharacteristically relenting control to a surprisingly, but not unwelcome, confidence she’d never seen coming, no one would be the wiser. When his hands stretched down to palm the sides of her thighs, she willingly hopped up, wrapping her legs around his narrow hips and allowed herself to be carried away, content to let Jack take the lead…. this time.