"I can't believe they let us in this place," Jane said with a grin that made Charlie feel warm with pleasure, happy that his face, his name could be used for something so fucking nice. She looked around the restaurant before focusing on Charlie's face again, touching the tablecloth for emphasis. "This place is seriously swanky," she said, lifting her eyebrows.

"Swanky," Charlie repeated, grinning back. "The word I was thinking of is adorable, which is how you look right now." He regarded her, sitting back. She was wearing his jacket, more for modesty than anything else, and she was swimming in it because it was so big, sitting with it pulled around her, as she looked at everything, sea-glass eyes wide. "You look like your feet don't touch the floor," he continued. 

"They're touching," she replied seriously, which only made him laugh more. The waiter arrived then, making more conversation unnecessary for the moment.

"I'd like the beet salad, then the salmon eggs Benedict, please, with iced tea?" Jane handed her menu to the waiter, who turned to Charlie.

"And for you, Mr. McAllister?" he asked with a very friendly smile. 

Charlie closed his menu. "What she's having sounds lovely. I'll have the same, please."

"Oh, and can we have the dessert menu, please?" Jane asked as the waiter was getting ready to leave. "I like to look at it while I eat, so I can take my time deciding what I want," she explained to the waiter, and to Charlie.

"Of course you do," Charlie said, smiling.

Jane's eyes narrowed. "Are you making fun of me, Charles Michael McAllister?" 

"Never, Jane Bennett Carroway," he responded. She gave him a look, but he waved it off. "Sorry, but you'll never win the full-name game against anyone with a name like yours, you must know that, right?"

In response she blew the wrapper of her straw in his face.

Eventually she took his jacket off and hung it over the back of her chair because it was too unwieldy to wear while she ate, and, even though her shirt had dried back to opacity, Charlie found himself looking again and again at her front, imagining the pretty bra and breasts which were under it.

Jane seemed oblivious to his glances, which made him feel bad. She was so innocent. Any other woman in this situation would've at least undone the top few buttons of her shirt to entice him, or would've been speaking in steamy double entendres, injecting their conversation with references to what had happened in the rainy gazebo.

He realized that he'd been staring again, and that she was saying something to him that required a response.

"Sorry?" He tried to look like he'd been paying attention.

"I asked why you're staring at me," she repeated.

The best defense was a good offense, or so they said. "As I've said to you before, Jane, it's common courtesy to look at person when conversing. I mean, this is true in England, where people are more civilized in general, I'll grant you--"

"You're not looking at my face," Jane said, biting her lips together again. "You're looking at my chest? Even though my shirt has dried and you can't see anything anymore?"

So she wasn't oblivious.

"And it's not like there's a lot there to see, anyway," she muttered under her breath, picking up her fork.

"I'm sorry, what?" Charlie wasn't sure he'd heard her correctly. He waited patiently until she'd chewed and swallowed her food.

Jane rolled her eyes. "Look, it's okay, I know what I look like," was what she finally said. At his continued stare she spoke again. "I'm not what you call 'blessed' in the female department?"

What? 

He leaned forward, indicating that she should elaborate some more.

Jane took another bite, chewed and swallowed, and rolled her eyes again. "I have no chest," she practically hissed across the table at him, cutting her eyes left and right to make sure no one was listening. "I have no hips, I have no ass, I mean, I barely have a waist." And now her eyes were dangerously bright. She rolled them again. "That stupid pink bra that you saw earlier? It's purely decorative, I assure you, in case you couldn't tell." 

He was looking at her blankly, as if she'd suddenly begun speaking Urdu.

"It's not holding anything up," she finally said, laying her fork down for emphasis. She covered her face with her hand. "I can't believe I'm having this conversation in such a nice restaurant," he heard her say in a small voice.

Charlie smiled, though he tried mightily not to, and he felt the smile growing, no matter what he did to stop it. And he knew within seconds that he was going to laugh. A lot. He finally just let the laughter come, though he did cover his mouth and keep it down.

Jane looked at him incredulously. "What?" she finally asked, her voice quiet with shock.

"It's just--I mean, are you implying that this conversation would be more, um, appropriate if were in a less formal environment?" he finally choked out.

Jane continued to look at him, and Charlie was afraid he'd lost her, until he saw the corner of her mouth twitch up in the beginning of a smile. She finally brought her napkin to her mouth and laughed as deeply as Charlie, and they just sat and looked at each other for a few minutes and let it flow.

Finally, she put her napkin down on the table, and Charlie laid his hand on top of hers. "Okay, I'm going to tell you something that even you, genius that you are, might not know." He leaned forward, and she leaned forward in response, looking at him curiously.

"Those things you just said?" 

She nodded.

"Men. Don't. Care." 

He sat back to see the effect his words had, but she was still leaning forward, looking confused, so he elaborated. "Men don't care about the, erm, size of things, as a rule."

She finally sat back as understanding dawned. Her look changed to one of accusation. "That's not true," she said hotly. "If men didn't care, then breast augmentations wouldn't be, like, the most popular plastic surgery ever in the history of the world!"

He raised his eyebrows and swallowed another chuckle. "In the world? Ever? Really?" he asked owlishly.

"Okay, I might not know the exact percentage or anything, but men like big boobs, everyone knows that," she continued. "And men like for women to have a waist, that's why women get tummy tucks. And hips? Ever heard of belly dancing?" She sat back, again looking around to make sure they weren't being overheard, which just made Charlie smile again.

Jane saw his smirk and sat back. "I don't want to talk about this anymore," she said softly. The day, which had begun so wonderfully, so magically, had degenerated into a discussion of body parts.

Charlie saw the look on her face and felt terrible. "Jane, Jane. Look, I'm sorry," he said earnestly. 

The waiter chose that moment to come clear their plates and take their dessert order, and Charlie felt even worse when Jane silently shook her head, indicating she didn't want anything.

"No, no," Charlie said quickly, putting his hand out to stop the waiter, who was leaving with the menu. "Please, um, just bring us one of everything, okay?" And he nodded for emphasis, shooing the waiter on his way when he just stared at Charlie.

Jane was staring at him. "Are you out of your mind?" she asked. "You just ordered enough dessert for ten people! After we just ate a meal that would fell a lumberjack!"

"I know you like dessert," he remonstrated. "And you're not going to miss it because I'm being a wanker and laughing at you, okay?" He reached for her hand, waiting until she put hers in his. "I'm sorry if I made you feel bad," he said softly, nodding. "Okay?"

And she looked at him, nodding finally. He leaned forward and kissed her hand before releasing it, making Jane feel a little tingle, just from the feel of his mouth on her skin.

They sat in companionable silence until their desserts came, and he could tell from her smile that she was happy, and not bothered at all by the looks the other tables were giving them. They just passed everything between the two of them, sharing and tasting all of it.

"So, um, is what you said earlier true?" she asked curiously, and a little shyly. "About men not caring?"

He considered. He knew that she'd never discussed anything like this with anyone before, and he wanted to be truthful. "Yeah," he finally said. "I mean, from an aesthetic point of view, maybe different men like different things? But when push comes to shove, most men only care that you have the right orifices, the right equipment in the right place, I guess," he concluded. "I hope that's not too graphic for you?"

She shook her head, fascinated. "I never knew that," she said, digging into the creme brûlée. "Still think men like big boobs, though," she said matter of factly, which made Charlie smile again.

They walked back to Columbus Circle unaccosted, simply because the inclement weather had driven most people indoors. Charlie savored walking freely on the streets.

"So, where do you have to go tonight?" Jane asked curiously.

"Well, I actually have some shooting to do in the Museum of Natural History," Charlie responded, putting an arm around Jane. He'd insisted she wear his jacket, so she couldn't really feel his arm on her waist, but she was pleasantly aware that it was there. "That's why I was free during the day. We have to wait until the museum's closed to film."

"Neat," she exclaimed, and Charlie was again pleased out of all proportion at her expression and exclamation. "That's way more exciting than my Saturday night," she continued. "I have a date with my history book," she explained, and because of the jacket, she didn't feel the way his arm tensed around her when he heard her say the word "date".

They stopped at the top of the steps leading to the subway and he turned her so they were facing each other.

"You know that today, back at the gazebo, that was my first time, right?" she asked, looking down.

He tipped her chin up, lifting her hair, which had finally dried, over her shoulder.

"Yeah, I do," he said, smiling. "What I can't for the life of me figure out, though, is why?" 

She looked down again, and again, he tipped her chin up, shaking his head gently at her.

Her eyes slid away, and he moved his head, catching her glance with his, pulling her back to face him. She finally shrugged.

"No one has ever tried, or wanted to, I suppose," she said in a very quiet voice.

He shook his head again, pulling her very close. "No way, not possible," he said, just as quietly, and he tilted his head and kissed her, very gently.

He pulled back, but she made that same noise and chased his mouth with hers, unwilling to come apart. He reached into his jacket, which she was still wearing, putting his arms firmly around her. She wound her arms tightly around his neck.

She parted her soft lips of her own accord, seeking with her tongue. He could taste the creme brûlée, and a tang from the apricot tart, along with the tea she'd had, and she tasted so fine he felt like his spine was melting. 

Finally they came apart, and Charlie had no idea how long they'd been standing at the top of the subway stairs. It had gotten wet while they'd been there, not rain, exactly, but a fine mist that just moved through the air, coating their hair and eyelashes.

"Okay, go on, then," he said softly, rubbing her nose with his.

She smiled, nodded, handed back his jacket, and disappeared down the stairs.