Insistent Terminology

Author's Note: This fic consists of three tiny plot bunnies that I combined into one for clarity's sake. This fic takes place post-canon, presumably after Robbie and Laura have left for New Zealand and definitely after Jean has been transferred. All you really need to know is that since Innocent left, she and Hathaway have been in a not-quite relationship that neither is entirely comfortable defining but that consists of mutual and genuine romantic interest, occasional "date"-like activities, and more-than-incidental bed-sharing. This should be fairly clear within the context of the fic itself.

Valentine's Day

Jean Innocent poured herself another glass of Chianti. With Chris and his partner too sick to come down as planned, it looks as though she'd be spending Valentine's Day alone after all.

It shouldn't have bothered her as much as it did. She was no stranger to spending the day on her own. On the rare occasion that Mr. Innocent had even been home, the most Jean had had to look forward to were cheap grocery store flower arrangements and halfhearted attempts to instigate intimacy.

Absent-mindedly, she let herself wonder how James Hathaway was spending Valentine's Day. She had avoided the conversation the last time they had spoken, because doing so meant figuring out exactly where the other stood on—whatever this was.

Although they spent weekends together whenever they could, busy schedules and the physical distance made it difficult to classify what they had. Moreover, there had always been the tacit understanding that they were free to see other people. Not that Jean had either time or the inclination to do so. She was still too raw from her divorce, and besides which, there was something about being with James that felt…

Safe? Comfortable? Natural? She wasn't entirely sure she knew and was a little afraid of finding out.

Innocent drained her wineglass and reached for the television remote beside the sofa. Desperate to eliminate some of the infernal quiet in her little flat, she grudging resigned herself to the rather sparse Valentine's Day television fare—which consisted almost exclusively of reality programmes and romantic comedies starring Hugh Grant. She was deciding between a rerun of Strictly Come Dancing and Notting Hill when she heard a light, almost hesitant rap on the door.

When she opened the door, she nearly collided with the lanky figure outside.

"Oh, bugger. Sorry, ma'am…er…Jean."

Once Innocent had righted herself, Hathaway awkwardly patted down the hair he had accidentally mussed by bumping into her. She responded by pulling him down by his tie to give him a warm peck on the cheek.

"James, what are you doing here?"

He shuffled his feet uncomfortably in reply. "Well, I…I couldn't…er… Happy Valentines' Day. I…er… I got you something."

He handed her a potted floral arrangement that was just as lovely as it was slightly bizarre: a large bunch of lilacs—accented by white carnations and several sprigs of baby's breath—surrounded by what appeared to be three tiny cacti. "I…err…lilacs have always made me think of you…even before we…this…."

"And the cactus?"

Hathaway coughed, his ears turning faintly pink in the process. "Well, I suppose, I thought cacti are sort of…our thing now what with you giving me…with our sharing…."

Jean decided to put the poor lad out of his misery by dragging him down again for a longer, more lingering kiss. "Thank you," she said when they finally broke apart. " I love it, though I feel terrible that I don't have anything for you."

He shrugged. " It's only a little thing. And besides, which, I didn't know I was coming myself until Dad cancelled yesterday. I…I suppose I should have called, but I was hoping to surprise you."

"Well, you certainly did. Come on in. I trust you can stay for a few hours at least."

"Actually, before I left, I asked Moody for tomorrow off. I was hoping I could stay the night. I know you have to work, but I was thinking we might meet up for lunch tomorrow—or even an early dinner—before I have to go…"

"That sounds perfect. Come on inside."

"Have you eaten yet?"

"No, I haven't, but really Hathaway, we're not going to be able to get a Valentine's Day dinner reservation at this late hour."

"Actually, I was thinking I'd have a poke around your kitchen, and see if there's anything I can whip up quickly. Otherwise, I might pop over to the grocery store."

"Don't worry about it, James. I can handle it. You are the company, and you've already brought me that lovely arrangement."

"No, I insist. If your conscience bothers you, you can always pay me back in kind."

Having worked with this infuriating man for several years, Jean knew when she was fighting a losing battle, so she nodded her consent. "If you think I'm going to spend the rest of tonight on my back just because you bought me flowers and are cooking me dinner…" She was only half-teasing.

"Don't be ridiculous. Besides, who said you'd be the one on your back? Well, not the whole time anyway…" Eyebrows raised and eyes glazed at the lascivious thoughts, Hathaway failed to dodge the painful elbow that Innocent lodged into his side.

…

Several hours later, they lay awake, intertwined in each other arms. In an interruption of the comfortable, companionable silence, Jean let out a contented sigh.

James smiled and glanced over to his bedmate. "What is it?"

"It's...just…it had been so long since I had someone to spend Valentine's Day with. And it really makes a difference—getting to spend it in the arms of a lover."

Hathaway made a slight grimace at the word. "Lovers? Is that what we are?"

Innocent sat up abruptly, pulling the sheet with her. "Aren't we? I thought that was what you wanted?" She was suddenly nervous that she had overstepped her boundaries—or perhaps not stepped too far enough.

"No. I mean—yes." Hathaway's expression was half awkwardness and half-intensity—an expression that was quintessentially his own, particularly when he was trying to articulate a particularly confusing point. "It's just…I've always hated that word."

Relief washing over her, Jean lay back down, resting her head on James's chest. "Any particular reason?"

"It's…just… I dunno, 'lover' has these very particular connotations that I don't really care for. It's a semantics thing really."

"Why am I not surprised? It seems like everything comes down to semantics with you," Innocent said, glancing up at Hathaway and stroking his chin affectionately.

"Well, it's just… in the word 'lover,' there's this unspoken emphasis on…the…er…carnality of the relationship.

She raised an interested eyebrow and allowed her hand to wander slowly and deliberately down his chest. "Really, I would have hardly expected any complaints from you on that front. You certainly gave a fair different impression not too long ago."

He flushed redder than she'd ever seen him. "I…err… no…that's all been fine—more than fine, really. It's just…I feel that…while, we both enjoy…that. I just don't want that to be the main focus. There are other things that are just as important, some more important. I just I'd like to think that—whatever this is—it's based on more than just…physical chemistry. Because it is on my end. Again, not that there's anythingwrong with our physical chemistry, I just…"

She stopped his mouth with her own. When they broke apart and he reached for her again, she playfully pushed him away. "Don't forget, Boy Wonder. There's more to whatever this is than mere physical chemistry."

He grinned back at her. "And there's something else. For another thing, 'lover' isn't something people usually call their spouses; it's more what men call their mistresses. There's this…implication that there's something secretive, even shameful about those kind of relationships. And…I…I don't think there's anything shameful about being with you, and I don't want you to think there's anything shameful about being with me. For whatever this is, regardless of how long it may last."

"So, if we're not 'lovers,' what are we then?"

"Well, I can't really speak to the future, but for now, I'm happy with us just being James Hathaway and Jean Innocent."

She nuzzled into his neck. "So am I."