But it wasn’t just dinner. It was a date. And putting that label on it had made the easy context of a conversation over a meal feel like summiting Mt. Everest.
It had been a few weeks since the first experiment, and they had found little positive in their research in the intervening time. They had repeated experiments on dozens and dozens of rats, with various permutations of the serum, over and over again, but no matter which version they used, the rats came out wrong. The mutations and deformities continued. His work hours had stretched longer and longer. He still ate lunch with Tabby every day, and his admiration of her had grown into a full on crush.
Still, he didn’t ask her out. He didn’t know what was considered appropriate here. They were colleagues, but he had his hands full with his research, so he would let their friendship remain just that.
Until Tabby asked him over for dinner.
“Do you want to come over tonight?” she had asked. His heart jumped a little at the question. He almost choked on his sandwich. He had to force it down, taking a big swallow of water.
Tabby had to hold back laughter. “Are you okay?” she asked.
Jon nodded, the water helping. Tabby still smiled at him.
“Sorry,” he said.
“It’s okay,” she said. “Well?”
“I—I would like to…”
“Buuuuutt…”
“And believe me, I think you’re great…”
“Buuuuutt…”
“But I don’t know if us—if we—if us seeing each outside of work is appropriate,” he said, finally managing to get it out.
Tabby burst out laughing at that. He stared at her, feeling a little lost.
“What? What’s so funny?”
“You really do only focus on your work, don’t you?” she asked, after she had stopped laughing.
“I mean, I don’t know,” said Jon.
“Have you taken a look around at all? Noticed anything about your co-workers?” asked Tabby.
“I mostly leave them alone,” said Jon. “Aside from you. And Mel. I don’t really talk to many of them. I mean, it’s not that I don’t want to—”
“Everyone is fucking, all the time,” said Tabby, and this time Jon choked on his water, putting his hand over his mouth so he didn’t do a spit take all over her. She laughed again, loudly, her laughter echoing through the mostly empty cafeteria.
He swallowed what water he could, and grabbed his napkin, wiping his hands and face.
“It’s like the Olympic Village in here, Jon,” said Tabby. “I swear, half my lab is screwing the other half. The world is ending, we’re all in here together, most of the people here are single and stressed out. It makes sense, but I don’t know how you haven’t seen it.”
“I guess I haven’t really been paying attention,” said Jon. “I’m generally not a very social person.”
“But if you’re worried about impropriety, I think us going on a date is okay.”
Jon’s heart jumped again. Date, there it is.
He smiled then. “Then I’d love to.”
“Does tonight work?” asked Tabby.
So Jon stood in front of her door. He held a tupperware container full of brownies. She hadn’t told him to bring anything, but he thought it only made sense. Tommy hadn’t asked where he was going, so he hadn’t brought it up. They hadn’t talked much, but their uneasy, unspoken truce had held, and Jon didn’t want to mess with what was working.
Tabby answered before Jon could knock again. She wore a teal dress, that clung to her curves. He’d only seen her in lab coats and business casual. She looked stunning. She had cat eye eyeshadow on, and a dark lipstick, and he couldn’t talk, his voice lost somewhere between his brain and his throat.
“I’ll assume you’re stunned by my beauty,” she said. “What did you bring?”
“B—brownies,” he said.
“Silence and chocolate, the two things I love most in a man,” she said, feigning a femme fatale tone. She stared at him. “Come inside, Jon.”
“I feel underdressed,” he said. He had worn dress slacks and a button-down shirt, but now felt like he belonged in an office park.
“You’re fine,” she said. “I just wanted to get dressed up. Every day in this place feels the same. It’s nice to change it up a little.”
Jon walked inside, following her in. He tried not to stare at her, but he mostly failed.
“It smells great,” he said. “What did you make?”
“Garlic chicken and noodles,” said Tabby. “It’s my mom’s old recipe. Really simple, but it’s one of my favorites.”
“That sounds great,” said Jon.
“I hope you brought your appetite,” said Tabby.
Jon’s stomach growled, as if on cue, and he glanced around Tabby’s home. It looked very different and extremely similar to his place, both at the same time. The layout was completely different, probably catered to the needs of a single person. There was no television in the big living space, though.
“No TV?” asked Jon.
“I asked not to have one,” said Tabby. “I don’t really watch much. Don’t worry, there’s four other screens in the house. I can use one of them if I really need to watch an old movie.”
“I was just curious,” said Jon. “Your place is different than mine.”
“Well, you have your son,” said Tabby. “No dependents means less space.”
“I still like it,” said Jon. “But I think Shaw engineered these spaces to be likable.”
“Whatever. He just copied Star Trek,” said Tabby. “You ready to eat? Food’s not getting warmer.”
“Yeah, I’m starving,” he said.
“I don’t have a dining room table,” she said. “But I do have this lovely bar top, with some stools.”
“Good enough for me,” said Jon. “I have wined and dined with kings and queens and I’ve slept in alleys and ate pork and beans.”
Tabby laughed. “Did you come up with that?”
“No, that’s a quote from the late, great Dusty Rhodes,” said Jon. “The pro wrestler.”
“Ah,” said Tabby. “I’m not familiar.”
“I watched it with my dad,” said Jon. Tabby put a plate down in front of him, a roasted chicken breast coated with a garlic sauce, with a side salad and some glistening linguine. It steamed.
“Is wine okay?” she asked. “I asked for a red and they sent up this cab.”
“Fine with me,” said Jon.
“I know it doesn’t pair but I don’t like white,” she said, pouring them each a glass. She set down their glasses. She sat down across from him, with a similar plate of food.
“Well, don’t stand on ceremony,” she said.
“You don’t want to toast?” asked Jon.
She rolled her eyes. “Fiiine,” she said. She raised her glass. He raised his.
“What should we toast to?” he asked.
“Oh lord,” she said. “To finding happiness at the end of the world.”
Jon clinked her glass and then took a swallow of the wine. He wasn’t an expert, but it tasted great. He grabbed his fork and ate, blowing away steam before each bite. The garlic sauce was creamy and hearty and he couldn’t believe how good it tasted.
“This is incredible,” said Jon.
“You’re just saying that,” said Tabby.
“No, this is great,” said Jon. “Give your mom kudos, when you can.”
“That would be tricky,” said Tabby. “She passed about ten years ago.”
“Oh, I forgot—”
“It’s okay, Jon,” she said. “But thank you.”
“I don’t think the world is ending, though,” said Jon. “So the toast might be slightly dishonest.”
“I don’t know where you were before you came down here, but it sure seemed like it where I was,” said Tabby. “People were fighting in the street over toilet paper.”
“That doesn’t mean the end of the world,” said Jon. “Isn’t that why we’re down here in the first place? To save everything?”