Work Text:
Despite the gloomy weather, Ilgaz is having a rather relaxing April afternoon. By relaxing, he certainly doesn’t mean idle—there is plenty of work to be done with all of the cases he’s working on and he needs to call the plumber at some point about fixing the sink in the bathroom at his and Ceylin’s new house, as it seems to be beyond his admittedly fairly extensive mechanic capabilities. But, after everything he has gone through in the last half year, any day where someone he cares about isn’t dying or being accused of murder, is a relaxing day in Ilgaz’s book.
At the present, he’s currently dotting his i’s and crossing his t’s of a case file that he and Pars had teamed up for, to send first to Pars for review and then finally to başsavcı. He hears the soft click of his office door’s lock and looks up with a smile immediately, closing the file and resting his pen. Two people aside from him own a key to his office, and he knows which of the two is opening his door, because Özge would have knocked first, as she only uses her key for administrative necessities.
“Hey!” Ceylin calls as she enters, waving the two takeout bags in her hand with a grin. Ilgaz hums happily in acknowledgement and leans up to kiss her in greeting. He takes the takeout bags from her as she moves briefly to hang her coat on his coat rack before tossing her purse onto one of the chairs on the opposite side of his desk.
As he’s opening up various containers of food, Ceylin makes herself at home on his desk, shoving aside piles of dossiers to free up room to sit down. He shakes his head at her antics, but doesn’t say anything—it’s nice having her sit as close as possible, anyway.
“So, I was thinking,” begins Ceylin, once the two of them are settled, each with food in hand.
“Hm? That’s new,” Ilgaz teases.
Ceylin kicks him gently with the tip of her high heel before continuing.
“Anyway! I was thinking, why don’t we go to the plant nursery near our house after work? You know I’ve picked out and planted plenty of flowerpots for the balcony, but I wanted to look for larger indoor houseplants together. If we can both finish around 16:30 or 17:00, we should be good because it closes at 18:00,” she explains.
“Sure, that sounds good. Let me check my schedule to make sure—” Ilgaz cuts himself off with a frown, and he and Ceylin both turn their heads toward his office door after hearing an unusually sharp set of knocks.
“Özge? I thought I mentioned that I was taking my lunch break around this time,” Ilgaz calls toward the door.
The door opens, and a very harried looking Pars rushes through, closing it behind him.
“Not Özge. Oh good, you’re both here, perfect,” Pars says, obviously distressed.
“Pars Savcı? Can we help you with something?” Ilgaz asks, a single eyebrow raised in confusion.
“Yes—well, I think so. I hope so. The thing is—I—Derya Savcı and I are—or, I’m hoping that I can…” Pars says, pacing back and forth, pinching the bridge of his nose and massaging it up and down.
“Go on,” Ilgaz says encouragingly, “you can trust us.”
Pars pauses, and Ilgaz sees that his face is a dull shade of red. He is starting to feel like it isn’t a work-related matter Pars is trying to ask about.
“And we won’t laugh, whatever it is, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Ilgaz says and looks to Ceylin for support.
“No, I might laugh,” his wife says, a barely concealed smirk on her face.
Ilgaz frowns as he studies her, starting to realize that she understands something that he doesn’t, whatever Pars was about to say. He then rolls his eyes and turns back to Pars.
“Ignore her, she’s kidding,” Ilgaz reassures the agitated man, “of course we’ll do our best to help you, if you just explain to us what the problem is.”
Pars glares briefly at Ceylin before letting out a slow exhale. Ilgaz almost holds his breath as Pars finally covers his face with one hand and mumbles something.
“What was that?” Ceylin asks, gleefully, and Ilgaz can see that she isn’t bothering to cover up her amusement any longer.
“I said,” Pars sighs, “that I really admire Derya Savcı. And that I’m interested in her. Romantically, that is.”
Oh. Oh.
“Oh…er, congratulations?” Ilgaz offers, “I’m glad that you felt like sharing, but what was so urgent about that?”
“Men,” Ceylin mutters, shaking with silent laughter as she does a little facepalm.
“I was asking her out to dinner tonight. As a date, obviously,” Pars begins.
“Obviously,” Ceylin repeats with a grin.
Pars raises his head to glare at her briefly again before resting his face back in his palm.
“I asked her if she felt like accompanying me to dinner, and she asked me who else we were going with. I don’t know why she assumed it was a group get-together, but whatever, I panicked and said the two of you. So will you guys help me out, or not?” Pars asks, and Ilgaz can tell that he’s seriously worried.
Ceylin bursts into laughter, and Ilgaz looks at Pars apologetically for her.
“Of course we’ll go to dinner with you,” Ilgaz tells his friend.
Ceylin nods along, finally getting over her laughter.
“Of course, of course,” she confirms Ilgaz’s statement, waving her hand around, “we’d love to help out. But don’t think we’ll ever let you live this down after tonight.”
“Hang on,” Ilgaz says suddenly, an idea occurring, “do you remember exactly how you phrased the question to her?”
Ceylin hums at that.
“Oh yeah, phrasing is definitely important. Probably why she assumed it was a group thing,” she says.
“Ah.. hm.. I think I said ‘I have plans to eat out after work, did you want to accompany me?’ or something along those lines,” Pars recalls.
Instantly, he’s met with a chorus of boos from both Ceylin and Ilgaz.
“What? What’s wrong with that?” he demands, and Ilgaz can see his agitation returning.
“Come on, Pars Savcı!” Ceylin chides him, “that obviously makes it sound like you already had plans before asking her, and she was an afterthought.”
Ilgaz nods in agreement.
“Yeah, now she probably thinks the three of us were going to eat out, and that you invited her to be friendly or polite,” Ilgaz explains.
Pars lets out a long groan.
“Dammit! I was just trying to ask her in a way that wasn’t too aggressively direct. I asked Rıdvan, and he said it sounded fine to him!” Pars protests.
“Rıdvan!” Ceylin cries, “That’s just about the worst person you could’ve asked! Does Rıdvan have a girlfriend? No, because he hasn’t been able to confess to the woman he’s been in love with for years! You could’ve asked anyone else… if not us, Neva? Eren? Well, maybe not Eren…”
“Not to mention poor Rıdvan is probably too scared of you to tell you even if he thought it didn’t sound okay,” Ilgaz points out.
“Agh! You’re right, you’re right, both of you. Damn ‘couple of the year’ and whatnot. I guess I know who I’m going to ask for advice next time, if after tonight there is a next time,” Pars grumpily concedes.
Ilgaz claps him on the back affectionately.
“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” Ilgaz tells Pars comfortingly.
Pars only sighs at that, and motions to exit.
“Thank you both, seriously. I have to get back to work, but I’ll text you the details of the restaurant,” he calls as he leaves.
Ilgaz and Ceylin both call out farewells in return, and begin resuming their meal. But, before the door can fully shut, it widens open again, and Pars pops his head back into Ilgaz’s office.
“Hang on,” Pars says, “Who has Rıdvan been in love with for years?”
. . .
Ceylin swings by Ilgaz’s office again at 17:55, five minutes before they’re all scheduled to meet at Pars’ office to go to the restaurant of his choosing together, as it is within walking distance of the courthouse.
“Finished everything you wanted to get done today?” she asks as she steps into the office.
“Everything and then some,” Ilgaz answers, neatly closing his files and packing them into his briefcase.
“Good,” Ceylin answers as she waits for him to don his coat and scarf, “I suppose our trip to the plant nursery will have to wait another day, but in my opinion, tonight is going to be far more entertaining.”
Ilgaz only shakes his head at her, a slight smile on his face as he follows her out of his office and down the corridor to Pars’. He agrees with her, of course, but he hopes she doesn’t tease poor Pars too much tonight.
When they reach Pars’ office, Ilgaz can see that he and Derya are already waiting there, along with Rıdvan, who looks as wide-eyed and apprehensive as usual. Ilgaz gives Rıdvan a kind smile and nod in greeting before turning toward the other two prosecutors.
As they walk out of the courthouse, Derya and Ceylin strike up a conversation about work. A quick peek at Pars tells Ilgaz that Pars is maybe a little bothered that Derya hadn’t chosen to chat with him instead, but Ilgaz knows that it’s only because she sees him and Pars at work every day, whereas with Ceylin she has no idea what the lawyer has been doing lately.
Once they step outside, Ilgaz notices Ceylin give a slight shiver, shoving her hands in her coat pockets and shrugging her shoulders up slightly to tuck her chin into her coat. He takes a few larger strides to catch up with her, and in a smooth motion he undoes his scarf and wraps it around her neck. She looks up at him briefly with a smile and gives him a grateful peck before returning her attention to Derya, who is currently explaining her latest case.
Out of the corner of his eye, Ilgaz can see Pars’ gaze snap toward Derya, and his own hand grasp his neck, which is bare. Ilgaz furrows his brow slightly at this, but doesn’t give it much thought.
After a few minutes, they come across a part of the sidewalk that is entirely covered with a section of metal, which is still very wet from the afternoon rain. Knowing how slippery it will be, especially for someone wearing heels, Ilgaz sidles up to Ceylin again, bending his arm to her in an offering. Without breaking her stream of words or her gaze toward Derya, Ceylin slides one arm through Ilgaz’s, and braces her other on his shoulder as they walk forward on the metal. Ilgaz almost smiles to himself upon noticing just how in sync they’ve become.
Only a few paces later, Ilgaz notices that Pars had stopped following them. He pauses in his walk, and consequently both Ceylin and Derya stop their conversation to look back at Pars, whose gaze quickly snaps up from Derya’s high heels.
“Pars Savcı? Is everything alright?” Derya asks worriedly.
“Er—yes. Sorry, I was just wondering if—I thought you might need—nevermind,” Pars says awkwardly, clearing his throat and impatiently motioning for them to continue walking.
Derya raises her eyebrow, but turns around and begins walking again, resuming her conversation with Ceylin.
In the short remaining distance it takes them to reach the restaurant, Ilgaz thinks he finally puts it together. Pars is copying him! He’s copying the way Ilgaz treats Ceylin in his attempt to court Derya. Ilgaz bites down a laugh. His wife was right, this is sure to be an interesting evening.
When they reach the restaurant, Ilgaz, Ceylin, and Derya step aside to let Pars to the front of the group. He greets the person at the front of the restaurant and shares the details of their reservation.
Ilgaz and Ceylin get to the table first, and Ilgaz pulls out a chair for Ceylin before pulling the one beside hers out for himself. She flashes a smile at him in acknowledgment and sits down. While the gesture was unconscious, second nature at this point, Ilgaz remembers his little theory regarding Pars just in time to look up and study Pars’ almost comically concentrated expression as he carefully pulls out a chair for Derya before his own.
“Ah, thanks, Savcım,” Derya says awkwardly.
At this, Ceylin turns to face Ilgaz very slightly, her eyes imperceptibly wide and her face containing carefully controlled glee. Ilgaz immediately knows that she just figured out the pattern in Pars’ behavior. He blinks slightly harder than normal in response, in a way that no one else but Ceylin would notice, and he knows that she’ll understand his signal to mean that he noticed the copycat Savcı as well.
With a very soft, delightedly amused hum, Ceylin turns her attention to the menu in front of her, and squeezes Ilgaz’s hand in excitement. He smiles into his own menu and squeezes her hand back.
As funny and exciting as this is, Ilgaz does feel a little bad for Pars; his efforts seem to be unnoticed by the object of his affections. Ilgaz then resolves to try not to be as—whatever he’s being, he can’t really think of how to describe it at the moment, because that’s just how he acts normally—for the rest of the evening, so that Pars doesn’t try to imitate him further and get discouraged when his gestures aren’t received by Derya as warmly and synchronized as Ceylin receives them from Ilgaz himself.
Naturally, it doesn’t take long for Ilgaz to break this resolution. It’s only when he hands Pars the water pitcher after pouring first Ceylin and then himself a glass of water, does Ilgaz realize his mistake. He then watches with mild secondhand embarrassment as Derya stares at Pars in confusion when he grabs her glass to fill before his own, determinedly avoiding her stare.
Thankfully, his wife is quick to smooth things over.
“Eh, Derya Savcı,” Ceylin starts, and Derya’s eyes snap to Ceylin, “do you have much experience with plants? Ilgaz and I were planning on taking a trip to a plant nursery sometime soon to shop for our new house.”
“Oh, no more than the average person, I would think. What kind of plants are you interested in? I have a few in my office that are easy to care for, you can take a look at those sometime if you’d like,” Derya responds, and Ilgaz is relieved that she seems to have forgotten about Pars’ weird behavior.
When they’ve all finally polished off their main courses, the four of them are deep in a debate on the merits of driving an older car like Ilgaz’s—it’s sturdy and reliable, he argues when Pars calls his car “old” and “slow”. Ilgaz takes a minute to stretch back and rests his left arm over the back of Ceylin’s chair, tucking her hair behind her ear with his hand as he does so. His relaxation is short lasting as he catches Pars eyeing the gesture. Oh man, he can’t seriously can’t be thinking of imitating that, can he? That would be far too presumptuous. Overkill. Ilgaz straightens up and stares at Pars with slightly wide eyes, silently imploring him to look over and see Ilgaz’s warning.
Luckily, Pars seems to decide against copying the gesture on his own, and Ilgaz sinks back against his seat in relief.
When the waiter brings out dessert menus, it doesn’t take Ceylin long to realize that she wants to try everything.
“Ohhh I don’t know how I’ll choose,” she sighs, “you know I could always go for some helva, but the picture of their avya tatlısı here looks absolutely to die for.”
“How about you order your helva, I’ll get the avya tatlısı, and we can split each halfway?” Ilgaz offers.
“Seriously?” Ceylin asks with a grin.
“Seriously,” Ilgaz tells her, matching her smile.
“What were you thinking of getting, Derya Savcı? Have you decided yet?” Pars asks.
Ilgaz certainly hopes Derya Savcı has decided, because if she hasn’t and Pars tries to ask her to—
“The chocolate dondurma for sure. You know I have a big sweet tooth for chocolate,” Derya answers him with what Ilgaz would say is a very sweet smile.
“I sure do. Éclairs especially, if I recall correctly,” Pars replies warmly.
Ilgaz side eyes Ceylin with a smirk at this, and she flashes him an excited grin in return, raising her eyebrows quickly.
After dessert, Pars ends up paying.
“It was my idea to get together, so it’s my treat,” he reasons and after mild protesting the other three finally concede and agree to take turns paying the next time that they go out for dinner or drinks after work.
As they’re exiting the parking lot, Ilgaz slows his car briefly as they pass Pars, who still doesn’t have his engine on. Ilgaz rolls down his window and calls out to the man with a gesture to roll down his window as well.
“You did great!” Ilgaz tells him when he complies.
“You would’ve been smoother had you not been trying to copy Ilgaz, but you still have time to improve!” Ceylin adds cheerfully, blunt as always.
Pars rolls his eyes in response.
“Well I don’t think I messed up horrendously, but if only Ilgaz decided to stop being ‘son Istanbul beyefendisi’ and making me look bad next to him for just one night, maybe things would’ve been even better!” Pars grouches.
Ceylin howls with laughter at this, bracing a hand on Ilgaz’s upper arm in support.
“Oh, as neck and neck as the two of you might be in your infamous rivalry, that’s one area you’ll never beat my husband in. He really is the number one gentleman,” Ceylin says proudly, patting Ilgaz’s arm.
Ilgaz feels a sudden rush of love for his wife, but he has to address something first.
“You don’t really think I was trying to show off, or trying to make you look bad, do you? I really want this to work out for you, I was even trying to tone down my ‘gentlemeness’ or whatever you want to call it tonight. If it makes you feel better, I don’t think Derya Savcı noticed my behavior or yours at all. And for what it’s worth, I think she really likes you,” Ilgaz explains to his friend.
“She definitely likes you,” Ceylin agrees encouragingly.
“You think so?” Pars says, in a rare instance of vulnerability.
“Really,” Ilgaz and Ceylin say at the same time.
With a smile and a wave, Pars finally drives off.
“So how long do you think it’ll take him to make a move? I’ll bet you ₺300 he takes two weeks or longer,” Ceylin tells Ilgaz.
“You realize we share a bank account, right? I say it takes less than a week and Derya makes the first move. I’ll bet you a foot massage,” Ilgaz answers.
Ceylin laughs.
“Oh, you’re so on,” she says.
. . .
Five nights later, Ilgaz whistles a happy tune as Ceylin massages his feet, after seeing Pars and Derya arrive at the courthouse together that morning in Derya’s car.