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Phryne Fisher had been back in Australia for approximately two hours. She had given herself just enough time to go home, have an emotional reunion with her staff, take a quick bath, make a phone call to Hugh Collins, and redress in one of her finest outfits before heading straight out the front door and into the Hispano-Suiza.
She knew it only took a total of fifteen minutes to drive to Jack’s bungalow across town, and that was if she obeyed traffic laws.
Parking out front of his home, Phryne looked at the small yet tidy bungalow in front of her and felt the warmth of anticipation blossom in her chest. She had cheekily told him to come after her, the rapport of their relationship spilling out in the space between their lips before Jack pushed through her words and met her mouth with his own. In hindsight, she knew it had been a lot to even consider asking him--he was in charge of the city’s safety, and he couldn’t just drop his responsibilities for a jaunt around the world.
Realistically, she had known this from the start. That’s what made this reunion so much sweeter.
With six quick steps up his walkway, Phryne stood on his front porch before quickly rapping on his door with her knuckles. The sound that met her ears, however, jolted her out of her reverie. On the other side of the wooden door, a booming bark was echoing across the hardwood floors inside Jack’s house. Phryne’s face scrunched into confusion, her heart dropping just a smidge at the offending sound.
She hated dogs. There was nothing she held personally against them, but she just didn’t see the need for them. Why there was one in Jack’s house was beyond her comprehension.
On the other side of the door, Phryne heard footsteps and then Jack’s deep voice saying, “Down, Puck. Easy, boy.” The sound of his voice made her breath catch, and she had to swallow down the emotion that had now lodged itself in her throat. She heard the bolt slide as Jack unlocked the door, and the handle seemed to be turning in slow motion as Phryne watched it with heightened anticipation. After what seemed like an eternity, the door swung open.
Jack stood in the doorway, his face scrutinizing whoever his visitor was, until he realized just exactly who was standing on his porch. Phryne watched with delicious satisfaction as Jack’s features melted from furrowed brow to unbridled glee.
“Phryne,” he breathed.
“Hello, Jack,” she said with a smirk. “Fancy seeing you here.”
Jack didn’t respond. He simply crossed the threshold and swept her into his arms, pressing a fervent kiss to her lips as he pulled her into him. Phryne went boneless against him, losing herself in the moment that she’d been longing for for months. The moment, however, was ruined by a booming bark somewhere near her knees.
With a smile against her mouth, Jack pulled back ever-so-slightly before looking down to where the offending noise was coming from. Phryne followed his line of vision until her eyes settled on a shaggy gray dog. Hair was falling into its bright, inquisitive eyes, and the billowing fan of its tail was wagging enthusiastically as it eyed Phryne with curiosity.
“And who is this?” she asked.
“This is Puck,” Jack replied, turning his face back towards hers. She could see in his features that he was already besotted with the creature, whether he had owned the dog for two days or two months. The sinking feeling from earlier was now settled somewhere in her lower abdomen.
“Ah, of course he is. Hello, Puck,” Phryne said, nodding down towards the dog, which caused its rear-end to erupt into a smattering of wiggles. “When did Puck come to take up residence here?” she continued, lifting her gaze to Jack’s with just a hint of mischief.
She could see a blush starting to creep up under Jack’s collar, and she had to will herself not to kiss it away. “About two weeks after you left. I...I couldn’t go after you, Phryne, you know that. I wanted to with every fiber of my being, but it just wasn’t plausible. But the loneliness was bone crushing...to the point that Hugh got a little concerned about me moping about the station all the time. He and Dot apparently have a friend who was looking to get rid of him, so they thought that I could use a bit of companionship, and the poor bloke was going to be homeless...I couldn’t just let him be without a home, now could I?”
At this point, Jack knelt down to cup the dog’s face in between his two massive hands. He gave Puck an appreciative scritch underneath the chin as he cooed at the dog. “No I couldn’t, eh boy? No, of course I couldn’t.” Puck enthusiastically kissed Jack’s face, and Phryne grimaced.
“I do believe that’s my job, Puck,” she said airily. Jack glanced over his shoulder up at her, and grinned.
“God, I missed you,” he murmured, standing back up and circling her waist with his arms. “I can’t believe you’re standing here on my porch, making quips at my dog’s expense and looking utterly ravishing while doing it.” He bent down to place a kiss on her neck, and Phryne felt a thrill shoot through her body.
“D.I. Robinson, how utterly delinquent of you, kissing me like that on your front porch,” Phryne whispered into his ear, the feeling of his lips on her skin threatening to knock the wind out of her.
Jack pulled back and grinned at her again. “You’re absolutely right, Miss Fisher. This is completely unacceptable.” With that, he laced his long, square fingers into her own and tugged her into step behind him as he reentered his house.
Phryne had never been inside Jack’s home, and she was pleasantly surprised at how lived in it was. It was, of course, neat as a pin, but there were obvious bits of Jack scattered about the living space. A plaid chair with an ottoman sat next to the fireplace, along with a leather sofa. In front of the sofa sat a coffee table where a steaming mug of tea sat on a coaster. A stack of reports were next to the tea, and despite the bit of work bleeding into Jack’s home life, it was squashed under a thick tome that Phryne could almost guarantee Jack had read twice. Simple blue curtains hung in the open windows, and the gentle breeze from outside was rolling through the room, fluttering the edges of the reports on the table and making the steam from Jack’s mug waiver infinitesimally.
Jack leaned over to place a kiss on her cheek before crossing the room to where a radio sat underneath the window. He lowered the volume on it, the sounds of Gershwin slowly fading, before turning back towards her. Puck had followed him across the room before settling himself on a large red pillow next to the plaid armchair. Phryne removed her hat and hung it on the peg by the front door, quickly followed by her jacket. When she turned back around, Jack was waiting for her, only inches between them.
“I was serious, you know,” he murmured, running the pad of his thumb along the line of her jaw as he looked down into her eyes. She forgot how much the blue of his eyes sparkled when he was happy.
“Serious about what?” she replied.
“Missing you.”
“Clearly you missed me, Jack. You got a dog to replace me. I’m still not sure how I feel about that.”
Jack laughed at that, a rumble that emanated from somewhere deep in his chest and made Phryne feel warmth all the way to the tips of her toes. “He’s not that bad,” he said, his hands automatically finding her waist and pulling her in.
Phryne let out a small hum of acknowledgement, glancing over Jack’s shoulder to where the dog was now eyeing her from his pillow. “You’re smitten, aren’t you?” she said, smirking at Jack. Her eyes glittered underneath the line of her fringe, and she watched in delight as the embarrassed flush rose once again above the collar of Jack’s crisp, white shirt.
“Smitten is a strong word…” He trailed off.
“Mhmmm,” Phryne hummed, fingering the buttons of his shirt. “It’s right up there with love, isn’t it?”
At this, Jack set his jaw and audibly swallowed. Phryne raised her eyes to meet his gaze.
“What are you saying, Miss Fisher?” His voice had dropped an octave, and Phryne felt it thrum straight to her core.
“Miss Fisher, hm?”
“Phryne...Phryne,” he corrected himself.
“I’m just saying...if you could be smitten--in love--with such a shaggy mongrel, do I stand a chance as well?”
Jack’s eyes were now the size of saucers, his teeth still clearly set together as he stared at her. Phryne had given herself plenty of time to come to terms with how she felt about Jack, and although she’d never assume something so brazen of him, she knew that under his austere exterior, he felt the same for her.
“You are far from a shaggy mongrel, Miss Fi--Phryne.”
“So I stand a fighting chance?”
“You stand more than a fighting chance.”
At this, Phryne grinned. “I knew you’d feel the same as I do,” she whispered, trailing a finger along Jack’s jaw line until the tip of her pointer finger rested in the dimple of his chin. Slowly, Phryne allowed her eyes to travel up Jack’s face until they settled on the surprised look in his eyes. “I love you, Jack Robinson,” she continued, her finger still nestled in the spot on his chin that she had to physically stop herself from kissing on several occasions.
“Y-you do?” Phryne had never seen Jack flustered, and she decided that she liked it quite a bit.
“I do,” she continued, bringing her hand down from his face to put both arms around the slim lines of his waist. “Very much, in fact, even if you didn’t come after me and have replaced me with a shaggy-haired mutt.”
Jack let out a choked laugh. “I love you too, Phryne Fisher,” he replied. “Even if you won’t let me live down the fact that I couldn’t come after you and that you openly loathe poor Puck.”
“Loathe is a strong word,” she said, tapping his nose with the tip of her finger. Suddenly, Phryne felt a nuzzling along her pant leg. She looked down to find Puck excitedly wagging his tail and nudging her leg with his nose. Trying not to grimace at the wet trail left by the dog’s nose on her silk trousers, Phryne hesitantly lowered a hand to where the dog’s head was waiting. Puck nuzzled the wetness of his nose into her palm before allowing her fingers to settle into the wooly fur between his ears. She gave him a quick scratch before pulling her hand back towards her.
“See, was that so bad?” Jack chuckled.
“Hmm, it’s not the worst thing I’ve experienced, but it certainly isn’t the most pleasureable.”
“I think I can help with that…”
They had sat in the living room for hours, talking about Phryne’s travels and all of the cases Jack had while she was away. Jack had settled himself on the sofa, his one arm along the back of the couch and the other resting on the arm. Phryne had settled herself into his side, her legs tucked neatly next to her.
She didn’t know when it had happened, but Puck hopped up on the sofa during their time recounting their adventures and had wedged himself behind Phryne’s legs. With a happy sigh, he had laid his head on Phryne’s thigh, his eyes slowly shutting as he drifted off to sleep. Jack had felt Phryne stiffen under his arm at the initial contact Puck made with her, and he couldn’t help laughing.
“He’s not going to attack, Phryne. Relax.”
“I am relaxed.”
Jack had let out a sound of acknowledgement as he rolled his eyes.
Phryne allowed the conversation to continue, but Jack saw out of the corner of his eye that her hand eventually came to rest on Puck’s head. It was an absentminded action, one that he dare not note aloud. Whether or not Phryne gave Puck an occasional stroke was something that only Jack seemed to notice. The sight of them together made Jack’s heart swell just a bit, and he couldn’t suppress the smile that it caused him.
After hours of talking and the singular break in conversation to rustle up dinner, Jack shyly led Phryne to his bedroom. They made love with the fervor of someone who was lost that finally found home. Neither could believe that after years of shared glances and sporadic flirtations they were now here. Once it was all said and done, Phryne had collapsed onto the mattress, securing herself underneath Jack’s arm as she laid her head on his chest. She could feel the gentle rise and fall of his breath underneath her hand, the press of his lips against the crown of her head. She was blissfully sated, emotion covering her body like a warm blanket.
“I love you, Phryne,” Jack had whispered, his lips still pressed to her hair.
“And I, you, Jack Robinson.”
Before Phryne or Jack could drift off to sleep, there was the jingle of a collar before they felt the mattress sink as Puck hopped up onto the bed. Phryne’s hand that was draped across Jack’s chest suddenly made contact with Puck’s warm, furry body as he curled up into Jack’s other side. Too tired to protest, Phryne simple snickered before burying her head in Jack’s neck.
“Goodnight, Puck,” she heard Jack whisper, and then the telltale sign of a goodnight scratch as Puck’s collar jingled in the darkness. “Goodnight, Phryne,” he continued, pressing a final kiss to her temple.
The three drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, Phryne woke before Jack and his trusty companion. Slipping out of the covers, Phryne silently padded across the bedroom floor to where Jack’s closet was. She carefully slid the door open and observed her options. Fastidious, wonderful, practical Jack had color-coordinated his closet. From left to right were all of his white button-downs, a smattering of blues, the few blue suits that he had, a black suit, and a brown suit. All of his shoes were lined neatly on the floor, and Phryne found herself feeling insatiably curious about the organization his sock drawer.
Deciding to save her snooping for another day, Phryne pulled a well-worn button-down from the hanger and slid it on over her naked body. She quickly buttoned it, leaving a tantalizing V of skin from the collar to about mid-breastbone, then padded out to the kitchen to put on the kettle. As the water heated on the stove, Phryne made her way across the living room to the front door. She disengaged the bolt from the lock and opened the door.
The paperboy hadn’t quite thrown the paper far enough, and it now sat where the walkway met the porch. Taking tentative, quick steps, Phryne scooped the paper up off of the walkway. As she stood back up, she caught the attention of Jack’s elderly neighbor. The woman gave her a horrified look that Phryne responded the only way she knew how--with a hearty wave, the paper in her hand and the hem of Jack’s shirt inching scandalously up her thigh. Still smiling, she turned on her heel and made her way back into the house.
Chances were she’d never hear the end of that .
In the kitchen, the kettle’s whistle was slowly starting to build. Hurrying across the floor to the kitchen, Phryne quickly took the kettle off of the stove to avoid waking Jack. She poured two mugs of tea, putting a splash of milk and a scoop of sugar in each. Cupping her own mug in her hands, Phryne made her way back to the bedroom to try and coax Jack out of the warmth of his bed and into the kitchen for some tea and toast.
When she got to the bedroom, however, the sight that met her eyes stopped her in her tracks. Jack was splayed across the mattress, the tan, taught skin of his chest glowing in the morning light. His hair was soft and mussed, a curl falling haphazardly across his forehead, and his usually smooth jaw was now boasting an impressive shadow. The arm that had securely held Phryne to his side was now draped over his eyes, a lame attempt at blocking out the sun that was now seeping in through the lace curtains that hung in his window.
Next to Jack’s side, Puck was splayed out in a fashion almost identical to his owner. His back was pressed up against Jack’s bare torso, his legs sticking out from his body at awkward angles. Jack’s free arm was protectively wrapped around the dog, his hand buried in the fur on Puck’s chest. Puck had rested his head on the swell of Jack’s bicep, and was still fast asleep, despite Phryne’s less-than-quiet meanderings.
The smile that crossed her lips was unbidden, but not unwelcome. Maybe she could get used to this dog and his weasling ways. Jack was a good judge of character, and she trusted his opinion.
Placing her mug of tea on the chest of drawers by the door, Phryne unbuttoned Jack’s shirt and unceremoniously dropped it to the floor before climbing back into bed. She nestled herself back into the crook of Jack’s shoulder, draping her arm across his torso as she pillowed her head on his chest. As if by instinct, Jack’s arm came back down from his face and around Phryne’s waist, pulling her in just a little bit closer to him.
Phryne sighed happily and closed her eyes, the hand across Jack’s torso luxuriating in the softness that it found itself in. Puck echoed her happy sigh, enjoying the small, satisfying circles she was tracing into his fur.