Thistle and weeds, Tag;;Wes

[Emily J. Chevalier]

Em couldn't quite believe that all of this was happening to her. In the past few weeks she'd gone from Emily Chevalier - successful vet, sister to a very successful ballerina, deaf, resignedly single, content. Content was a state of being she'd been in for quite some time. She knew that she wasn't the sort of person that was ever going to be truly happy. Wasn't going to be the person that was jumping for joy. But she wasn't unhappy either. Looking at her life, she really didn't have anything to be unhappy about. But all that was changing. Now, now she was more than just plain Emily Chevalier. Yes, she was still a successful vet, and yes, she was still sister to a very accomplished ballerina. And she was still very much deaf. But the part about being resignedly single - that was something she was beginning to think might not have to be true after all. Over the past few weeks, she'd been spending more and more time with one Wesley Fowler. A good friend for a number of years, and yet someone she was starting to see in a very different light. The fact that he had been very serious with his motion to learn sign language was only a very small part of that. 

For five years, Em and Wes had met up every few Sundays to take their dogs for a walk through Central Park. The whole friendship had been based upon this, and it didn't seem like anything was going to be changing it. They walked the dogs. They would sit for a while on one of the benches and exchange notes in one of the many notebooks that had been filled over the years. She would ask briefly about how his job was going, he would return the sentiment. But that was it. Nothing more.  And then, all of a sudden, it was. 

They broke the Sunday pattern. They shared a picnic. Em had looked after Violet and Mose when Wes had been away in London, and she'd sent him on a tour of her home town, making sure that he would visit all of her favourite places. She'd started to teach him sign language, and had been really impressed with how hard he was working on it, when she felt sure he must have a million and one other things to be doing that were far more important. The biggest change, however, came when Em was talking to Rosie. She found herself wanting to tell her sister all about the things she'd been doing with Wes, and had found herself blushing about it on more than one occasion. Rosie, in turn, had picked up on this, and would spend half of every conversant they had teasing her slightly younger sibling. Just like every big sister should. 

Although it had never been explicitly said, Em was quite sure that she and Wes had moved on from the title of 'just friends'. Quite what. It ,are them now, the brunette wasn't entirely sure, but she was certain that the shift had been made.  'Just friends' didn't go out to dinner at a fancy restaurant with one another. They might get a take away, or something like that, but certainly not to the very smart Japanese place on Fifth to get sushi. The sort of place that had meant Em went on a hunt to the back of her wardrobe to find a suitable dress to wear. 'Just friends' didn't spend the meal alternating between finger spelling out words and writing quick notes to communicate - laugher ringing out at all the right places. The young vet had been quick to dismiss her sister, but as she and Wes made their way back to her apartment, Em couldn't help but go over Rosie's words. It was a date. 

At then door, Em paused, reaching into the small bag slung across her shoulder for the key. Already she knew Bear and Chester would be fussing on the other side of the door. They'd been upset to be left at home - so used they were to going its Em everywhere - but on this occasion she hadn't felt like she'd really had much choice. Besides, she'd had Wes to  be her ears. She wasn't going to get into any difficulty with him around.  Finally getting the boor unlocked, Em turned bak towards her 'friend', slowly signing, to give him chance to understand. /Thank you. I've had an amazing time./ and then, smiling brightly, she simply stood. She didn't want the evening to end. /Would you like to come in for a drink?/  As she stood, she slowly chewed on her lip, waiting for an answer.

[Wesley B. Fowler]

Something like this

•••

It was perhaps quarter to five when Marshall showed up.

Wes merely glanced up from his paperwork as the familiar figure of his old roommate settled in the door frame, blond and lean. It was unusual for him to say nothing, but Wes had better things to worry about. Like dinner tonight with Em. The dinner that he had planned meticulously and had been looking forward to for weeks, maybe even all five years they had known each other.

“You know, I've been standing here for at least five minutes, and you haven't even bothered to say hello,” Marshall finally spoke, the teasing quality of his voice ever present.

“I know,” Wes replied. “I just really have to finish this by five.”

“Do you have somewhere to be?” Marshall moved into the room. “I thought we could go to a game or something.”

Wes shook his head. “Can't. I'm having dinner.”

“Oh, right, with that new client. Lawyers, right? They were going to order stationary for the entire firm?”

“That's in London, and that's next week. No, this is just with a friend.” It wasn't until Wes noticed the smirk on Marshall's face did he realize his own features had shifted into an incontrollable grin at the thought of Emily. “What?”

“This 'friend'…do I know her?”

“What makes you think I'm going out with a woman?”

Marshall chuckled. “Come on, Fowler, you're grinning like an idiot. You have a date. Who is she?”

A date? Wes hadn't thought of his dinner with Em in that sense before, but hearing it from Marshall, he supposed…well, maybe. He and Em weren't just friends anymore, and he was blind not to have realized it before. The picnic. The movies. Spending time together doing nothing, yet enjoying themselves all the same…even if this was the first time they had gone out anywhere, Wes realized that, in reality, they had been dating for weeks.

“You don't know her,” he said finally. “Her name is Emily Chevalier. Uh, brown eyes, short hair. Brunette. British.”

“Nice body? What's she in? I don't think you mentioned.”

Wes raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“What's she in? You know, movies, tv. Or is she a model?” By now, Marshall had moved to lean casually against the side of the desk, hands clasping one knee. “Come on, man, give me an idea.”

“She's a vet.”

“A vet?”

“Yeah,” Wes stood, retrieving his suit jacket from the back of his chair. “A vet. Mose and Violet's vet. She has her own practice. Anyway, I have to go. I’ll text you later if I’m not too late.”

•••

Dinner went off without a hitch. In fact, Wes didn’t think it could have gone better. It had been simplistic, which he liked, just sushi at a new place on 5th. Drinks. Conversation. There had been a moment where Wes had debated renting out the entire restaurant just for them, but now that it was over and they were heading back to Em’s apartment, he was so glad they hadn’t. There was no need to flaunt the wealth he so despised, and besides. This was Em. She didn’t came about that, and that was why he liked her so much.

They stood together in the hall, his focus set on her hands, watching her sign. Thank you, they said. Wes smiled, and sighed back. “Me too.” But Em wasn’t finished yet. An invitation was quickly extended, asking him in for a drink. Well, that wasn’t anything he had been expecting, but it was certainly welcome. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

[Emily J. Chevalier]

Waiting for Wes to say something after her offer of a drink seemed to take far longer than it should. Perhaps he was wondering what she'd meant when she'd asked the question. Was there an ulterior motive? Was this just a simple drink to prolong the night, or was it a drink and something more? Had she read too much into the night? Was he going to change his mind about wanting to spend time with her and run far,  far away? Though Emily could say with hand on her heart that the dinner had gone very well indeed, that didn't necessarily mean that Wee had to agree. He might be simply an incredibly talented actor. After all,  why would he want to spend so much time with someone like her? There. Must be hundreds of women who would kill to be the one with Wesley Fowler on their doorsteps, and the young vet was under no illusions that she was the best of the bunch. It was why she'd almost given up on him answering her when he finally moved his hands to sign once more. When he did, she didn't think it would be possible to stop the smile from spreading. 

Letting herself into the apartment, Em lifted one hand in the direction of Bear and Chester, a gesture for them to sit and stay where they were. Though she knew that Wes had no problem at all having big dogs around, and though she knew that both of her boys were rather fond of her friend, it didn't necessarily mean that he would want them jumping up at him and his suit. Em new she certainly didn't want them  jumping  up at her dress! Once sure that Wes was safely in, the brunette let the door close behind her, finally giving the dogs the signal that they could move. Both still watched her carefully, however, as they made careful movements closer, Bear lifting his head to snuffle at Wes's hand, while Chester investigated the smells coming from the bottom of his trousers. Mose and Violet with a side of sushi, more than likely. 

Scents explored, the dogs soon moved to flop once more onto their beds and Em motioned for Wes to follow her into the kitchen so that she could fix the drinks. And there she paused, staring at the cups that stood on the side. Just what sort of drink was she supposed to serve in a situation like this? Should she carry on with the theme of the evening and open the bottle of wine that she knew was tucked safely in the door of the fridge. Should she take the cliched route and make coffee. Should she just bite the bullet and ask Wes what sort of drink he would prefer? It was at times like this that Em wished her sister didn't live halfway round the other side of the world. If she was in New York, Em would excuse herself momentarily to go to thee bathroom and simply send a text to Rosie. She would know exactly!what to do in a situation like this. But Rosie was, alas, in Moscow. Which meant that Em was very much on her own. 

Realising that she'd spent far too long deliberating, the young vet ran a hand through her hair and turned back to smile at Wes. Almost inexplicably, she found her breath catching as she once again caught sight of him. She really had got it bad. /I have a bottle of white in the fridge?/ If. He didn't object, then they would go with that, though Em was very much of the opinion that it was what she would be driving herself anyway, whether Wes agreed or not. That in mind she reached for the wine glasses that lives in the cupboard just above where she was standing. /or I could make you a coffee or something?/ It probably wasn't the way that Rosie would have done it, but it was the best she could do in an unfamiliar situation. 

[Wesley B. Fowler]

After the drink invitation was accepted and the apartment door opened, Wes immediately found himself a point of interest for Emily’s two canine roommates as he passed through the threshold. Grinning, he bent to stroke Bear’s head, other hand coming to rest on the blond expanse of Chester’s back. “Hey, guys, how’re you doing? I haven’t seen you since Sunday. Have you been good boys for Em? Yeah, I bet. “ Rising to his full height, he gave them an apologetic smile, holding out his hands. “I’m sorry – I don’t have anything for you. On Sunday, alright?” Giving each of them one last pat, Wes left them to their business, joining Em at the counter.

It was then that he realized he hadn’t been at her apartment since the week she had taken care of Mose and Violet, and that had been nearly a month and a half ago. Now what the hell was that? He and Em had been friends for nearly six years now and he had been to her apartment, what, once? Twice? Wes couldn’t recall one time she had been to his apartment, and it seemed a great probability that she didn’t even know where he lived. Well, that had to be remedied immediately.

After, of course, they had their drinks.

“Wine sounds great,” he signed, speaking simultaneously. “Marshall and I had a conference call with the manager of the London office early this morning, and I’ve had more than enough coffee throughout the day trying to stay awake.” Dammit, now she would think he was too tired to stay! Maybe he should have taken a moment to pick Marshall’s brain and determine what his plan of action was tonight with Em. It had been so long since he had been on a date that’s purpose hadn’t been to play wingman for Marshall. This was in an entirely different realm. Not only was Emily self-sufficient, not always depending on her father for money, she in an admirable profession, and Wes actually liked her. For once in his life, a first date actually mattered, and that scared the hell out of him.

[Emily J. Chevalier]

Emily was sure that she was getting far too worked up about this [i[date[/i], was sure that rational adults didn’t find themselves with a flutter of butterflies taking up residence in their stomachs for something seemingly so simple, but there was nothing she could do to stop them. The brief waves of something akin to nausea had been sweeping over her since the middle of the afternoon. It wasn’t exactly what you wanted to be experiencing when you were castrating a bulldog, but there you go. It had struck again as she’d taken her boys for a run in the park after work – when she’d walked past the bench that they always met on. The nerves had been running particularly high as she’d waited for Wes at the restaurant, one eye out on the street, the other on the time, a part of her almost expecting him not to turn up. But he had done, and the young vet had one of the most pleasant evenings she’d ever had.

But now the butterflies were back in full force as she once again waited for his response to the type of drink he would like. As soon as she saw the word wine, however she found that they abated slightly. She could focus on getting the cork out of the bottle and filling the glasses. At least….she could until she saw his next words. He was tired…it had been a long day…perhaps he really was just being polite in accepting a drink after all. Turning away from him once more, Emily set the bottle back down on the counter top, using her now free hand to push her hair back away from her face. She should have known that this was too good to be true. The dinner was just his way to say thank you for looking after the dogs when he was in London and nothing more should be read into it. She was stupid to think otherwise. Of course she was.

Picking up the two glasses [both of which were only half filled. If he was just being polite, she wouldn’t make him do so for too long. A couple of sips and he could be out of the door] Emily turned around once more, forcing what she hoped was a natural smile onto her features to hide the rising disappointment. Passing one glass to Wes, Em took a sip of her own drink before moving to busy herself with refilling the dogs’ water bowl. Once that was set back on the floor, the brunette took a deep breath before she turned to face Wes again. /You don’t have to stay if you’re tired, Wes…/

And there were the butterflies again, the colourful insects forcing her hand in picking up the wine glass once more, all but downing the contents. He needed to say something. Anything. Either that or go. Whichever way, she was going to fill her glass once more, thankful only for the fact that it was a Friday and she didn’t have to worry about work in the morning.

[Wesley B. Fowler]

There were many ways, Wes decided, he could have approached the evening with Em, and the way it was currently going was not one of them. In his mind, each detail had arranged itself perfectly – the dinner, the entrées, what he was going to wear. Hell, Wes had even scripted date itself to some degree, but it seemed none of the carefully chosen words were falling into place after he had accepted Em’s invitation inside. Now what was that? Emily had been his friend for nearly six years now, and conversation had never been a problem between them before. Just because Marshall had declared this outing a date did not mean he had to say anything varying from what he usually did.

Smiling, Wes accepted the wine glass, taking a generous sip from it. Though he was partial to red wine, this was far better than he had expected. A few more sips later, the liquid was gone, and Wes found himself reaching for the bottle once more. Em had taken to busying herself at the sink, filling water bowls. Even with her back to him, Wes got the feeling that she wasn’t herself. Perhaps, like him, she felt as though this night was something different than what they were used to, and was desperately grasping for something to say. Finally, she turned back to him, her hands spelling out the words he had never expected.

You don’t have to stay…

Did she...did she not want him to stay? Frowning, he set his glass on the counter, stepping closer. /But I want to./ Before his mind could latch onto what his body seemed to have predetermined, Wes found himself stepping closer still, the space between them dissipating. His lips pressed against hers for a moment, hands moving to grasp either of her arms. For reasons unexplained, kissing Em felt...right – as though it should have happened years ago. Perhaps it could have, if he had simply paid attention to the feelings that had so obvious been lying dormant until these past few weeks. After several more moments, Wes pulled back slightly and smiled. /That is, if you’ll have me./

[Emily J. Chevalier]

Emily was so sure that Wes was simply going to turn around and walk out of her apartment that she’d already started to map out other routes to take the dogs on their walk the following Sunday, all the better to avoid him. It was a task that held her attention really quite fully. Fully enough so that she almost didn’t notice as the dark haired man started signing once more. It wasn’t until Chester nudged the back of her knee with his nose – his typical way of getting her attention – that she looked back to her friend. He….he didn’t want to leave? He wanted to stay….with her…Before the young vet had even had the time to fully process his words, she found herself far closer than she’d ever been before to the CEO. A place she’d only imagined being in her most enjoyable of daydreams. She was kissing Wes…

This was a moment Em had long since resigned herself to not experiencing. Wes was her friend and wasn’t going to be anything more than that, no matter what she hoped. But now his lips were pressed against hers, his hands curling around her arms. So very, very real. Moving to stand on tiptoes, she pressed closer to him, smiling against his lips as she returned his kiss. Only after a long moment had passed did she pull away, the smile still very clear on her features, eyes bright. She still couldn’t quite believe that what had happened had truly happened, but all it took was a glance to Wes’ own expression to know that it most definitely had. They’d kissed! And it had been perfect.

Finally moving her hand from where it had been upon his arm, Em finally found herself able to make a reply to the dark haired man in her kitchen. /I would love for you to stay./ And with that she was moving once again, picking up her glass and the rest of the wine from the side, moving into the living room. Setting the glass on the table, the bottle stood next to it, the young vet moved to sit on the couch, shoes kicked off and feet curled up underneath her. A brief command was given to the dogs to ensure that they would stay on their beds, rather than climbing up to join her, and she turned her attention once more to Wes, gesturing for him to take the seat next to her. For all that she suddenly felt very relaxed about everything, the dark haired woman now found herself at a loss as to what to do next…

[Wesley B. Fowler]

Kissing Em had in no way been premeditated. The night had started out as a couple of friends having dinner, nothing more. Or at least, that was what Wes had thought. Marshall’s comment had admittedly wavered his original opinion to some degree, but for the majority of the evening, he had managed to push such thoughts from his mind, until of course, they had arrived at her apartment. With the wine pouring and the conversation easy as it always was, it was no surprise to Wes after it had happened that he had kissed Em.

As they pulled apart, Wes smiled. Five years of friendship had accumulated into this moment, and it seemed as though they would not revert backward. No, this was how things were to remain between them and Wes knew that he would not have it any other way. With the confirmation that she indeed wanted him to stay, his smile widened, and he followed her to the couch, sinking slowly onto his surface. Sighing softly, he stretched out, crossing his legs at the ankle, and glanced to Em. /I’m not sure about you, but I think this might have been a date./ He laughed. /After if this was a date, then I suspect I ought to ask you out on another./