Chapter Text
The restaurant was closed for the night. There were the usual stragglers hanging around the back, like Ralphie in the garage he almost never left and Frank in the office with the account books, but otherwise the lights were off and the place was quiet. Paulie hated it when it was quiet.
He was heading for the street, another slow day over with at last. It would be the same again in the morning, back to the rackets he was assigned, no sense of excitement anywhere. Prohibition had been over long enough for the dust to settle, and now he was itching for something to happen. He was getting rusty, he could tell.
Paulie was so busy dreaming up something exciting that he didn't notice the dark-haired woman sitting at one of the diner seats in the front of the restaurant.
"Leaving without saying goodbye?"
Paulie jumped. "Christ, Olive, you can't sneak up on a guy like that."
Olive stood, leaning against the bannister with her arms crossed. "I was just sitting here enjoying the view of the street. I might say you snuck up on me."
Paulie hadn't drank since that night at Olive's house—not as much as he usually did, and he certainly hadn't visited any gentleman's clubs. He was thinking about things he never cared to think about before, with a sudden awareness of what Olive thought of him. He always cared, of course, but there was no end goal until now. They'd spoken only sparingly since the kiss because of how busy he was, but for the past couple weeks she was one of the only things on his mind.
He wanted to talk to her about it, to hear what she was trying to say before she asked him to kiss her, but he was almost afraid of the answer. He knew what he wanted her to say, but he thought he liked it better when she was unattainable. Having something to look at without ever getting a hold of it was easier, because if you lost it you could stop missing it quicker. At least that's what Sam always reminded him of. But then again, he was nothing like Sam.
"Do you have anything you'd like to say to me, or are you just gonna stand around and stare all night?" Olive's voice was a little louder then, and he could hear her annoyance.
"You're one to talk," he answered with absolutely nothing to back up that statement.
"So you do want to talk." Olive sauntered forward, coming close and brushing something off the front of his suit jacket.
"Come on, Olive. Why are you messing with my head?"
Olive frowned, her face falling. She felt a little dumbfounded; of course he was aware of her fickleness, but she never could have guessed it would become a problem between the two of them. A little foolish on my part. The last thing she wanted was to upset him with her newfound feelings, but she didn't expect him to outright accuse her of playing with him. Perhaps it was a little idealistic, that she imagined he would be immediately welcoming after six years of rejections.
"I'm not trying to mess with your head, Paulie," she said, her voice softer now. "Like I said before… I've just been thinking." Two weeks to decide on what to say and it still wasn't enough time. "I care about you, you know. I mean, we've been friends for some time, but it's… I feel alright around you, I've noticed. Different than I've felt around anyone else." Anyone else constituted a very long list.
"And you're just realizing that now?" Hey, he wasn't going to admit he'd been chasing her for six years, but...it had been six years. Everyone in the family knew it. He never entertained the thought of her feeling anything for him seriously, even if he was often the end of jokes about it from Sam—sometimes he even made them himself.
"So what's wrong with that?"
"'Cause I'm still just the same guy, Olive."
"Well, I see you differently now. Sometimes things change."
Paulie's mouth quirked. He wanted to kiss her again; but not yet. "So what does that mean?"
Olive sighed and looked at the ceiling. "It means I like you, you lug. That I could love you and I want you to love me back. Now does it make sense?"
It did. Paulie grabbed her by the waist and kissed her. A real, good kiss, even better than last time because it was spontaneous—and he was the instigator. She grabbed him by the shoulders and reciprocated. That was easier than talking.
Their foreheads pressed together, he looked down at her with a half-smile. "I ain't nothing like those other guys you hang around."
Olive scoffed. "And thank God for that."
"Yeah, thank God for that," he mumbled against her. "You know, I think I oughta be mad you waited six years for this."
"I would say it's been more like three months."
"For you, maybe! Hey, wait, three months?" Paulie tilted his head back, looking at her incredulously.
"I've had a lot of time to think, I told you!" Olive poked a finger against his chest.
"Then maybe we should make up for lost time," he said, starting to lean into a kiss again, but she held up a hand to stop him.
"Wait. Come here," Olive muttered, pulling him by his hands over to one of the tables. "Lift me up."
"What?"
"Set me on the table, Paulie, so we can look at each other eye to eye."
"You're a real weird girl, you know that, Olive?" Paulie shook his head in amusement, but nevertheless he hiked her up by the thighs and set her on the table. The darkness outside had truly set it now, and the only lights coming in the window behind her were the headlights of the occasional car passing and a single street light in front of the bar.
"I guess that's why you always tried to take me out, huh?" Olive put her arms around his neck and he leaned into them, his hands still set on her waist.
"A coupla different reasons, but sure, we'll go with that." He could hardly see her features from this position, with the poor lighting outside hitting her back, but he could feel the warmth of her skin against him and that was enough. He mostly had it all memorized anyway.
Olive's eyes searched his face. This, this was her worst thing, the sentimentality. She meant every word of it—but she still felt insincere. He seemed to be well enough off with it, in any case.
"What?" Paulie smirked, trying to guess what she was thinking.
"Just looking at you." She paused for a moment. "You know, you should have stayed that night."
"Don't I know it. Anyway, that's all over with now. Why don't you tell me what's got you changin' your mind about me?"
Olive played with the rings on her fingers, rolling her eyes. "Well, certainly not because you're any less difficult."
"Jeez, thanks, Olive."
"I'm nearly thirty years old now, I thought I ought to pull myself together and confront my feelings." Olive sighed when he snorted. "Come on, Paulie, I'm serious."
"Nah, I'm not laughing at you. I get it."
"Then it makes sense? What I said?" Olive ran her fingers through his hair. Even that felt different than what she was used to. "That I could love you and I want you to love me back?"
"Yeah, I think I could manage that," Paulie mumbled, his face now in the crook of her neck. He wasn't going to mention it to her, not yet, but he could feel he was already pretty close to that outcome.
"Good." She kept her fingers in his hair, her eyes drifting closed. "Why don't we go back to my place? We can talk a little more."
"Why not my place?" He looked her in the face again, suddenly eager.
"Ah, I just prefer it is all." She could imagine the state of his apartment, given the usual state of his car, and she didn't want to get too hasty and get stuck at his place all night. She'd rather drive all the way across town—and it would be easier if he stayed over.
"Sure, sure." He pulled her off the table and back into a standing position. "I'll drive you over to your place just like any other night."
"Not recently!" she said with a huff, grabbing her coat and purse from the coat rack—she left them there in anticipation—as they made for the door. "I've been taking cabs. Real independent-like."
"You sure you're turning thirty?" Paulie nudged her in the side.
Olive didn't look over. She knew he had that dumb smile on his face; the one she liked. "Oh, come on, Paulie."