Title: Second Chance to make a First Choice

Author: Mindy

Rating: T sexual concepts

Disclaimer: Tina, NBC et al, own all characters.

Summary: Jack gets a second chance to choose.

-x-

She doesn’t return in five minutes.

She comes back after twenty minutes, strolling in like nothing ever happened. Liz stands in the doorway, just like she did before, hugging her dvds. Her eyes survey the room briefly -- the only sign that anything occurred prior -- before landing on him where he sits on the couch, drink in hand and shirt-sleeves rolled up.

She jabs a thumb over her shoulder: “Sorry, I got talking to your doorman.”

Jack rises, face relaxing into relief.

“He’s Armenian,” she adds, rather unnecessarily.

Jack smiles as he steps closer: “May I take your coat?”

“Oh. Sure,” she says, first bending to deposit her movies on the coffee table.

Instead of waiting for her take off her coat and hand it to him as she usually does, Jack steps behind her and curls his hands over the collar, slipping it off her. Liz turns to him, messing up her hair as she loops the scarf over her head and hands it to him also.

“May I get you drink?” he asks next, laying her things over the back of a chair.

“Okay,” she shrugs.

“Your usual?” he says, moving to the drinks tray.

“Okay,” she says again, taking a seat on the sofa.

Jack pours her drink, pours himself another then heads back to the sofa. She looks up at him as he hands her her drink. She has seated herself in one corner of the sofa, leaving the rest for him. Ordinarily, he would take the opposite corner. Instead, Jack sits in the middle, not crowding her, but significantly closer than they’d usually be.

She sits up a little straighter, gives him a wobbly smile. “Oh, hello…”

“Hello,” he replies, clinking his glass against hers.

She takes a sip: “So, um…” her gaze drifts about the room: “So, what movie do you wanna watch?”

“Actually, I thought we might talk a little first,” he answers.

She blinks at him. “About...?”

“Lemon--”

“I don’t want to talk about that, Jack,” she cuts him off peremptorily: “If that’s what you were going to bring up. I only came back because you said we could pretend it never happened.” She gives a little shrug: “And for the popcorn, a little bit.”

“I just wanted to tell you,” he says, slowly and carefully: “that I figured it out. I understand now. In fact, I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. I can’t believe you didn’t just tell me.”

She tips her head. “What’re you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Claire.”

“I thought we were done talking about her,” she sighs, jaw clenched.

“We are,” he assures her: “We’re talking about me now.”

Liz humphs into her glass. “What a refreshing change of pace.”

“More specifically,” he goes on: “we’re talking about why Claire chose to fixate on me.”

“What, are you looking for a pep-talk?” she asks with a huff: “You’re rich, you’re handsome, you’re charming, blah-blah-blah--”

“I’m yours,” he interrupts.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m yours,” he says matter-of-factly. “The only reason Claire had any interest in me was that I belong to you.”

“You belong to me?” she mutters incredulously: “In what universe is that true?”

“That’s how it looked to her.” He turns, stretching an arm over the back of the sofa. “Amongst other things, Lemon, you told me that this woman liked to steal other women’s men.”

She rolls her eyes. “Liked it? She made a part-time career of it.”

“But what you failed to tell me,” he goes on, watching her closely: “was that she had a particular penchant for your men. Right?’ He pauses, lowering his voice: “It wasn’t just the clown, was it?”

She shakes her head, answering evasively: “I dunno, Jack, it’s a long time ago. I didn’t have that many men. And maybe Claire just…couldn’t help herself. Being all…how she is.”

“It may not have been done vindictively at first,” he replies carefully.

“So what’re you suggesting then?” Liz asks, not looking like she really wants to hear his answer.

Jack takes in a breath. “I’m suggesting that Claire sensed something between us. I’m suggesting that, in the absence of a real boyfriend in your life, she naturally honed in on the one person with whom you are closest. Me.”

She raises her brows. “You’re the closest thing I have to a boyfriend?”

He nods once. “I’m afraid so, Lemon.”

“Well, that’s just disturbing.” She looks thoughtful a moment then shakes her head: “But how could Claire even know that we are…” she flicks a finger between them: “what we are? I barely even mentioned you.”

Jack takes a sip of his drink. “Crafty people can pick up on vibes between people.”

Her eyes flick over him warily. “We have vibes?”

“Perhaps we do.” He gives a lazy shrug: “Either that or someone tipped her off.”

Her eyes cut to one side. “I’ll kill her.”

“Who?”

“Jenna.”

“Why?”

“Take a guess.”

Jack lays a hand on her arm. “I’d…take a raincheck on that.”

“Because?”

“It may not be Jenna’s fault,” he admits: “I…spoke about you. In the elevator. When Claire and I--”

She knits her brow at him. “You did? Why? What’d you say?”

“Well,” he shrugs rather non-committally: “I…don’t remember specifically, of course, it was some time ago, but I do recall mentioning your name.”

“Oh.”

He shifts on the sofa, not quite meeting her gaze: “The thing is, Lemon, Claire divulged something to me which I think might shed a little more light on this whole…situation.”

“Ha, well, I’m not sure,” she mumbles, a definite edge to her tone: “I want to hear what Claire Harper has been telling you about me.”

“Firstly, Lemon,” he replies purposefully: “nothing Claire Harper might say about you could make me think less of you. And secondly, do you recall knowing a boy by the name of Ted?”

“Ted? Yeah…” she nods vaguely, waving her wineglass. “I remember him. He went out with Claire for awhile, back in the day.”

Jack looks at her pointedly. “He was her first love, in fact.”

“If he was, she never told me,” she murmurs dryly: “As far as I knew, she didn’t fall in love. She just had sex, and lots of it. That I heard about.”

“But you knew both of them,” he persists: “You were friends with both of them.”

She shrugs. “I guess.”

He pauses, eyeing her curiously. “And did Ted ever…?”

“What?”

“Make a move on you?”

“What? No! Are you kidding me?” Her face screws up immediately, then halts: “Oh, wait…he did ask me out once, I think. During one of their break-ups.”

His smile widens. “He had a crush on you,” he tells her, since she doesn’t seem able to put it together herself.

“No!” she scoffs: “No, we were friends, that’s all.”

“Claire told me,” he replies: “Apparently, the whole time they went out, her Ted had the hots for young Miss Elizabeth Lemon.”

She is silent a moment before she wags her head again. “Nope. No way.”

“Way, Lemon. Way.”

She snorts, then shoots him a blatantly suspicious look. “You’re making this up. You’re just making stuff up to boost my pathetic ego.”

“God’s honest truth.” He holds up a hand: “I swear. And what’s more…the clown guy?”

“Joel?”

“Same thing.”

“He left me,” she points out, emphasizing each word: “for Claire.”

“But--” Jack muses, pointing his drink at her: “According to her, the clown never stopped talking about you. Never stopped telling her how smart and funny you were.”

She laughs drolly, looking at her lap: “O-o-kay. I’m sure you don’t need to be told this, Jack, but one thing I do know about men is that smart and funny does not in any way compare to sexy and gorgeous -- even when dangerously unbalanced.”

Jack bobs his head a few times, hides a smile. “Well, clearly, Ted disagreed. Joel, too.” He pauses, then adds: “And I am a man.”

She frowns. “Yeah, so?”

“Well, you’re here now,” he says softly: “Which means I must disagree as well. Or at the very least, I might think that smart, funny, sexy, gorgeous and slightly though not dangerously unbalanced is one hell of an enticing combination.”

She hesitates, then mutters haltingly: “Good thing you left unbalanced in there or I might not know you were talking about me.”

“I was talking about you,” he assures her, one hand lifting to play with the ends of her hair. “Did you ever stop to consider that maybe Claire Harper acted the way she did towards you out of mere, petty jealousy?”

“I…” She chuckles and ducks her head, attempting to conceal the shudder that runs down her spine. “That sounds pretty unlikely to me, Jack.”

“It’s not so unlikely from where I sit,” he replies, and shoots her a warm smile: “This is what I have been telling you for years, Lemon. You’ve got it all. You just don’t know it.”

She opens her mouth, looking partially embarrassed, partially confused. “I don’t recall…you ever putting it that way.”

He shifts a little closer on the couch. “Well, I’m putting it that way now,” he answers smoothly.

Liz is silent, dark eyes watching his every move. She swallows, eyes dropping away from his. After a long pause, she murmurs very simply: “You didn’t have to ask her to leave, you know.”

“I know.“ Jack nods slowly. “And you didn’t have to come back. But you did. And I’m glad you did.”

“Well,” she replies, trying to keep her tone light: “you’d be the first guy I know to give up sizzling sex with Claire to watch ‘Planet of the Apes’ with me.”

“I’m glad to be the first then.” He smiles as he shifts closer: “I am afraid, however, we may need to find another way to entertain ourselves this evening.”

Liz’s face lights up all of a sudden. “Oh no -- I brought extra entertainment. Wanna see?” She vaults out of her seat suddenly, completely disturbing whatever mood had been building. Momentarily, she returns, plopping back down and holding up two titles: “These -- are classics, Jack, classics! You’ll love them…Well, you might not, but you should see them anyway. If you want I can point out the parts you’re supposed to laugh at...”

Jack is silent now, eyes fixed on her face.

Liz blinks at him, rattling the discs in their cases. “You’re…not looking at them, Jack.”

“No, Lemon. I’m not.” He lifts one hand and slips it into the curve of her waist.

She glances down, the shock visible on her face: “Oka-ay. You’re…touching me…and not looking at them...”

Jack nods, draws in a breath. “I am indeed.” His eyes drop, honing in on one particular spot on her neck. He leans closer and closer until his mouth hovers over that spot. Then he kisses that spot, soft and slow, letting his tongue graze her flesh just barely.

“And…now,” she sighs, voice breathy and wavering: “you’re…kissing me…touching…me, and not looking at them.” She tips her chin up, blinking up at the ceiling. “This tells me you don’t want to watch a movie right now, Jack.”

Jack chuckles against her skin. “What else does it tell you?”

“Umm…” She shrugs uncomfortably. “You…don’t like my taste in entertainment?”

“Anything else?” he rumbles, pulling back to look at her.

She hesitates when their eyes meet, her mouth opens and closes. “You…like me, maybe?”

“Very perceptive, Lemon.” Jack smiles, blue eyes twinkling, openly, fondly. “Personally,” he goes on in a low voice: “I much prefer what’s happening right now to anything that might happen on screen. But…if it would make you feel more comfortable, by all means, put on one of your films.”

Liz gulps and looks unsure.

TBC...