Whatever Happened to Christmas (30 Rock, Jack/Liz)
Title: Whatever Happened to Christmas
Prompt: 100_situations #069. Bitter
Fandom: 30 Rock
Pairing: Jack/Liz
Word Count: 1,560
Rating: PG
Table: Number Two.
Summary: "Aren't you going to go after her?" (A post-ep for 'Ludachristmas.')
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue!
*
It's after round three of the Lemon gay marriage debate that Liz stands up from the table. "I'm taking a break. Because you're all..." She gestures wildly. "Ugh."
She marches out of the restaurant, and Jack is slightly less schadenfreudically delighted by watching them tear each other apart.
Though, yes, he still does feel better about his family. That's human nature.
"Aren't you going to go after her?" his mother says.
"Why should I?" he replies, though he actually feels as if he should. "If anything, you should go apologize to her."
Colleen laughs, and Jack watches Lemon through the window. She's pacing back and forth, until she realizes she's in front of a window and shouts something -- a grunt, or maybe that 'blerg' word she's inexplicably fond of -- then walks in the other direction, getting away from the window and his sight.
He exhales, and Liz's mother is saying something about how Dick has always held her back. He should go talk to her. "Perhaps," he says, "I will go after her."
Colleen looks rather satisfied with herself but she usually does, so he isn't sure if she's particularly proud about winning this mini-battle. When he's outside, it doesn't take long for him to spot Lemon. She's in front of a movie theater not too far from the restaurant, stomping her feet on the ground and muttering to herself. She's right in front of a poster for Sweeney Todd, so it probably seems to any passersby who notice her that she's exceptionally angry with Johnny Depp and/or film adaptations of Broadway musicals. For all he knows, those things do cause her torment; he can't be the only one fed up with both of them.
He stays a couple of feet away from her for several moments. Most of him is wary about how to approach her, but part of him...
Well, there's something about Lemon when she's angry and frazzled which... excites him. He would never tell her this, of course; in fact, he's told her the very opposite. He's often felt the opposite, especially in the first few weeks he knew her. She's not the type of woman he wants to be romantically involved with; she's the type of woman he wants to be friendly with, to be a mentor to, to help whether or not she accepts the glaring truth that she needs such assistance.
But times like these, he can't help but think of kissing her.
(To be honest, he's frequently found himself pondering kissing her even when she isn't angry. But there's the fact that they wouldn't work, that Lemon is most likely uninterested, not to mention his relationship with C.C.
Yes. C.C.
The only thing worse than being infatuated with one Democrat is being infatuated with two.)
"Lemon," he says as he walks toward her.
She turns to him suddenly. "Don't talk to me."
"I wanted to see how you're doing."
"I said not to talk to me."
"You'd rather look insane--"
"Yeah." She nods in a way that makes her look like a deranged bobblehead. "Yeah. I'd rather look insane. People in New York do it every day. I can have a crazy day if I want. And you can't do anything about it. I... Fine. Okay?"
"You're not okay."
"I didn't say I was okay."
"To be perfectly frank with you, I wasn't sure what you were saying."
"I'm saying I can come out here and look insane on the day my family self-destructs and you telling me I look insane will not instill shame in me. No shame here. Eat it. Yeah. It. That's as specific as I need to be. And you can't do anything about it."
She's about to have a breakdown. The fact that he hasn't kissed her already is a monument to his strength. "Lemon, you need to calm down."
"How am I supposed to calm down? How?"
He isn't sure how to answer. He loathes not having an answer.
Lemon pokes him in the chest. "You're a jerk."
"Excuse me--"
She pokes him again. "My father bought you that sweater. He didn't have to buy you a sweater, but he bought you a sweater. You jerk. I want that sweater back. I'll give it to someone who's not a jerk."
"Exactly what did I do?"
"Oh, I don't know. You didn't stop your mother. You haven't tried to diffuse the situation at all, and you've been staring at us fighting with this tranquil grin on your jerk face."
Jack nods. "Okay, perhaps I can see your point."
Another round of poking. "My family is not your entertainment."
"I know."
"Why aren't you fighting me on this?"
"Maybe I shouldn't have been so... comforted by your family revealing itself to be highly dysfunctional."
"My family isn't dysfunctional. It's all your fault. Jerk."
"It's not my fault. I didn't wrap your family in denial and repressed rage for the past couple of decades."
Her visage of tense anger in reaction to his apparent jerk-like qualities is replaced by the tense anger he causes when he says something which upsets her but that she also recognizes to be more than somewhat true.
(It's a fine line between the two expressions, but he can tell the difference.)
"Give me back the sweater." She starts grabbing at the middle, which is not going to get it off. He suspects she just wants to mildly hit him. "There are good people who could use this sweater."
He grabs at her hands, and they find themselves engaged in a limp-wristed slap fight targeting each other's arms. "Stop it."
"Give me the sweater. You have a shirt underneath it so it's not like you're going to be walking around naked."
"Lemon--"
"It's not your sweater anymore."
"Lemon."
He grabs her wrists. Too tightly, so he loosens his grip without letting go. She's silent, staring up at him, and she looks sad. So sad, he actually does feel guilty for this thing which isn't his fault. So sad, he isn't sure what to say to help this. He strokes her palms with his thumbs. Her hands are colder than his and she's staring at him, brown eyes opened wide. This is starting to feel strangely intimate. Too intimate. He has trouble remembering the reasons why he shouldn't kiss her.
"I'm not taking off the sweater," he says. "Honestly, you shouldn't be so upset; you'll get through this. Haven't you been anticipating this for years? For everything to come to the surface, for things to finally explode? It's better this way, to not have to always wait for the other shoe to drop. You don't need to be protected by this fantasy of having a perfect family; you're stronger than that. You don't need such a crutch."
The tips of her fingers are brushing against his chest. "Not having a miserable family wasn't a crutch. It was just... something to be happy about. You don't see why I liked that?"
"Of course I do," he scoffs. "I spent all day wishing I could be part of your family."
She half-smiles for several seconds. "Ha. I knew it."
He has no idea why she hasn't pulled away. He has no idea why he hasn't kissed her.
"Really, you have to give me back the sweater. And you can't go on the Disney cruise."
"I don't think your family is going on the Disney cruise."
She exhales sharply. "Give me back the sweater, Jack."
She's mad again but is still not pulling away. He can't kiss her. He will not kiss her.
He kisses her.
He is somewhat unsurprised.
He lets go of her wrists and wraps his arms around her. Her hands are pressed against his chest, then slide up to his shoulders.
Liz is kissing him back.
This, he is somewhat surprised about.
But his surprise doesn't last for long, as she pushes him away soon after the kiss truly begins.
Her hands are balled into fists. "What are you doing?"
"I believe you already know."
"Why did you do it?"
He doesn't think she wants to hear the truth, so he doesn't give it to her. "I wanted to calm you down."
"You thought trying to make out with me would calm me down?"
"Well, I suppose it would be more accurate to say I wanted to distract you." He nods. "Yes. I was trying to distract you."
"You have a girlfriend."
"For a moment, that slipped my mind."
"If that's a joke, or if it's not, you're... still a big jerk."
It wasn't a joke. He supposes he shouldn't tell her, as it apparently wouldn't make a difference. "Tactical kissing doesn't count as cheating."
This is certainly true, but he's not sure Lemon accepts it. For once, he can't read her at all.
"Fine," she says. "That doesn't count as anything, then."
"Yes."
"I'm gonna get my family and we're going someplace that's more private and has less Donaghys in it. I think we'll be much happier."
"I am sorry, Lemon." He's not sure which thing he's apologizing for. Maybe all of it.
"Yeah. Good for you."
She walks away angry, and he's not thinking of kissing her. He's thinking of how he might have ruined his chances of ever kissing her again.
Lemon's right; he is a jerk.
END
Prompt: 100_situations #069. Bitter
Fandom: 30 Rock
Pairing: Jack/Liz
Word Count: 1,560
Rating: PG
Table: Number Two.
Summary: "Aren't you going to go after her?" (A post-ep for 'Ludachristmas.')
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue!
*
It's after round three of the Lemon gay marriage debate that Liz stands up from the table. "I'm taking a break. Because you're all..." She gestures wildly. "Ugh."
She marches out of the restaurant, and Jack is slightly less schadenfreudically delighted by watching them tear each other apart.
Though, yes, he still does feel better about his family. That's human nature.
"Aren't you going to go after her?" his mother says.
"Why should I?" he replies, though he actually feels as if he should. "If anything, you should go apologize to her."
Colleen laughs, and Jack watches Lemon through the window. She's pacing back and forth, until she realizes she's in front of a window and shouts something -- a grunt, or maybe that 'blerg' word she's inexplicably fond of -- then walks in the other direction, getting away from the window and his sight.
He exhales, and Liz's mother is saying something about how Dick has always held her back. He should go talk to her. "Perhaps," he says, "I will go after her."
Colleen looks rather satisfied with herself but she usually does, so he isn't sure if she's particularly proud about winning this mini-battle. When he's outside, it doesn't take long for him to spot Lemon. She's in front of a movie theater not too far from the restaurant, stomping her feet on the ground and muttering to herself. She's right in front of a poster for Sweeney Todd, so it probably seems to any passersby who notice her that she's exceptionally angry with Johnny Depp and/or film adaptations of Broadway musicals. For all he knows, those things do cause her torment; he can't be the only one fed up with both of them.
He stays a couple of feet away from her for several moments. Most of him is wary about how to approach her, but part of him...
Well, there's something about Lemon when she's angry and frazzled which... excites him. He would never tell her this, of course; in fact, he's told her the very opposite. He's often felt the opposite, especially in the first few weeks he knew her. She's not the type of woman he wants to be romantically involved with; she's the type of woman he wants to be friendly with, to be a mentor to, to help whether or not she accepts the glaring truth that she needs such assistance.
But times like these, he can't help but think of kissing her.
(To be honest, he's frequently found himself pondering kissing her even when she isn't angry. But there's the fact that they wouldn't work, that Lemon is most likely uninterested, not to mention his relationship with C.C.
Yes. C.C.
The only thing worse than being infatuated with one Democrat is being infatuated with two.)
"Lemon," he says as he walks toward her.
She turns to him suddenly. "Don't talk to me."
"I wanted to see how you're doing."
"I said not to talk to me."
"You'd rather look insane--"
"Yeah." She nods in a way that makes her look like a deranged bobblehead. "Yeah. I'd rather look insane. People in New York do it every day. I can have a crazy day if I want. And you can't do anything about it. I... Fine. Okay?"
"You're not okay."
"I didn't say I was okay."
"To be perfectly frank with you, I wasn't sure what you were saying."
"I'm saying I can come out here and look insane on the day my family self-destructs and you telling me I look insane will not instill shame in me. No shame here. Eat it. Yeah. It. That's as specific as I need to be. And you can't do anything about it."
She's about to have a breakdown. The fact that he hasn't kissed her already is a monument to his strength. "Lemon, you need to calm down."
"How am I supposed to calm down? How?"
He isn't sure how to answer. He loathes not having an answer.
Lemon pokes him in the chest. "You're a jerk."
"Excuse me--"
She pokes him again. "My father bought you that sweater. He didn't have to buy you a sweater, but he bought you a sweater. You jerk. I want that sweater back. I'll give it to someone who's not a jerk."
"Exactly what did I do?"
"Oh, I don't know. You didn't stop your mother. You haven't tried to diffuse the situation at all, and you've been staring at us fighting with this tranquil grin on your jerk face."
Jack nods. "Okay, perhaps I can see your point."
Another round of poking. "My family is not your entertainment."
"I know."
"Why aren't you fighting me on this?"
"Maybe I shouldn't have been so... comforted by your family revealing itself to be highly dysfunctional."
"My family isn't dysfunctional. It's all your fault. Jerk."
"It's not my fault. I didn't wrap your family in denial and repressed rage for the past couple of decades."
Her visage of tense anger in reaction to his apparent jerk-like qualities is replaced by the tense anger he causes when he says something which upsets her but that she also recognizes to be more than somewhat true.
(It's a fine line between the two expressions, but he can tell the difference.)
"Give me back the sweater." She starts grabbing at the middle, which is not going to get it off. He suspects she just wants to mildly hit him. "There are good people who could use this sweater."
He grabs at her hands, and they find themselves engaged in a limp-wristed slap fight targeting each other's arms. "Stop it."
"Give me the sweater. You have a shirt underneath it so it's not like you're going to be walking around naked."
"Lemon--"
"It's not your sweater anymore."
"Lemon."
He grabs her wrists. Too tightly, so he loosens his grip without letting go. She's silent, staring up at him, and she looks sad. So sad, he actually does feel guilty for this thing which isn't his fault. So sad, he isn't sure what to say to help this. He strokes her palms with his thumbs. Her hands are colder than his and she's staring at him, brown eyes opened wide. This is starting to feel strangely intimate. Too intimate. He has trouble remembering the reasons why he shouldn't kiss her.
"I'm not taking off the sweater," he says. "Honestly, you shouldn't be so upset; you'll get through this. Haven't you been anticipating this for years? For everything to come to the surface, for things to finally explode? It's better this way, to not have to always wait for the other shoe to drop. You don't need to be protected by this fantasy of having a perfect family; you're stronger than that. You don't need such a crutch."
The tips of her fingers are brushing against his chest. "Not having a miserable family wasn't a crutch. It was just... something to be happy about. You don't see why I liked that?"
"Of course I do," he scoffs. "I spent all day wishing I could be part of your family."
She half-smiles for several seconds. "Ha. I knew it."
He has no idea why she hasn't pulled away. He has no idea why he hasn't kissed her.
"Really, you have to give me back the sweater. And you can't go on the Disney cruise."
"I don't think your family is going on the Disney cruise."
She exhales sharply. "Give me back the sweater, Jack."
She's mad again but is still not pulling away. He can't kiss her. He will not kiss her.
He kisses her.
He is somewhat unsurprised.
He lets go of her wrists and wraps his arms around her. Her hands are pressed against his chest, then slide up to his shoulders.
Liz is kissing him back.
This, he is somewhat surprised about.
But his surprise doesn't last for long, as she pushes him away soon after the kiss truly begins.
Her hands are balled into fists. "What are you doing?"
"I believe you already know."
"Why did you do it?"
He doesn't think she wants to hear the truth, so he doesn't give it to her. "I wanted to calm you down."
"You thought trying to make out with me would calm me down?"
"Well, I suppose it would be more accurate to say I wanted to distract you." He nods. "Yes. I was trying to distract you."
"You have a girlfriend."
"For a moment, that slipped my mind."
"If that's a joke, or if it's not, you're... still a big jerk."
It wasn't a joke. He supposes he shouldn't tell her, as it apparently wouldn't make a difference. "Tactical kissing doesn't count as cheating."
This is certainly true, but he's not sure Lemon accepts it. For once, he can't read her at all.
"Fine," she says. "That doesn't count as anything, then."
"Yes."
"I'm gonna get my family and we're going someplace that's more private and has less Donaghys in it. I think we'll be much happier."
"I am sorry, Lemon." He's not sure which thing he's apologizing for. Maybe all of it.
"Yeah. Good for you."
She walks away angry, and he's not thinking of kissing her. He's thinking of how he might have ruined his chances of ever kissing her again.
Lemon's right; he is a jerk.
END