[Peanut Butter & Honey] - for Clay

[freshoffthefarm]

Late Sunday afternoon and Annie had gone to her own great lengths to conceal her movements. Her Volkswagen was parked outside her sister's house in Georgetown. She was driving a Kia she'd rented. Why a Kia? Because a Ford Focus had offended Clay so much that she wouldn't want to put him through that humiliation again.

On her way to see him, she'd stopped off at the grocery store and picked up a loaf of bread, a small jar of peanut butter and some honey. Nothing fancy, but it would get the point across. She was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and she hoped that her surprise wouldn't wouldn't be too unwanted.

Parking outside his condo, she set the alarm on the car and then knocked on his door.

Comments

[fakes-death.livejournal.com]

Webb wasn't expecting anyone and checked to make sure his gun was by the door. He looked out the peephole and was very surprised to see Annie.

He opened the door dressed much differently than she'd seen him before, clearly he wasn't expecting company.

"Well, this is a nice surprise," he said as he opened the door.

[freshoffthefarm]

Surprised to see him so dressed down, though she wasn't sure what it was she'd been expecting, she lifted the bag she was holding. "I thought I'd bring you dinner. Gourmet sandwiches. Well, homemade. Peanut butter and honey, just like when we were kids and by we, I mean me."

After a beat, "Can I come in?"

[fakes-death.livejournal.com]

"Of course", he stepped aside so she could come in. Unlike the last time, the newspaper was spread all over the table, classical music playing, and a glass of scotch on the table beside where he'd been sitting a few minutes before. Riding clothing was strewn over one chair, and boots in the corner.

Welcome to Clayton Webb's Sunday.

"I wasn't expecting anyone..."

[freshoffthefarm]

She took in the view when she stepped into the living room. Scotch and the newspaper? Most men would be watching football, but then most men wouldn't have spent the morning horseback riding with their mothers.

She gave him a small smile as she looked at him, judging him carefully, then said, "If I'm interrupting, I don't have to stay."

[fakes-death.livejournal.com]

"No, you're not. I just need to clean some of this up...and get rid of the scotch."

He started to clean up, preserving his place in the paper, "You can put that back in the kitchen if you'd like...I'll be in in a minute."

[freshoffthefarm]

"Keep it." She was already on her way to the kitchen and turned to look at him as she walked. "Pour me one, too."

In the kitchen, she unloaded the bag. Nothing special: plain white bread and JIF peanut butter. The honey was her favorite brand and she set it all on the corner of the counter. The bag she rolled up and threw in the trash can.

[fakes-death.livejournal.com]

"Alright." Webb never would have taken Annie for a scotch drinker, martinis maybe, but not scotch.

He stopped the music, poured another scotch, and headed into the kitchen. "Somehow I doubt scotch goes with peanut butter."

[freshoffthefarm]

"Probably not," she agreed.

She took the scotch from him, took a sip and then nodded. "I think your choice in scotch makes my dinner look bad." Another sip and she set the glass down on the counter. "But unless you're starving, we don't have to eat right now."

[fakes-death.livejournal.com]

"No, I'm not", he smiled, "I'm glad you came by..."

[freshoffthefarm]

"Good. Because I had a question..."

Not forgetting her scotch, she walked back out to the living room and, seeing the photo on the mantel that she'd wanted to ask about last time, she lifted it and held it out. "This? When was this taken?"

[fakes-death.livejournal.com]

Webb cleared his throat, "The 1988 Olympics. That's a photo from the Modern Pentathlon."

He suddenly felt ancient. She was just starting grade school and he was an accomplished show jumper.

[freshoffthefarm]

"The Modern Pentathlon?"

She was still holding the photo when she slid her gaze to him. "This is what I read about in your file. 1988?" She wasn't going to mention their age difference because, hello. Awkward. "You look good. This is impressive. You should use it to get women."

Her tone was very matter of fact, but she was obviously teasing.

[fakes-death.livejournal.com]

"The Modern Pentathlon, Swimming, pistol shooting, show jumping, fencing, and running. Didn't win, but it's an honor to compete, right?"

He grinned, "The pants still fit."

[freshoffthefarm]

"Which is why you were such an ace at swimming at your beach house," she said, remembering. "And it is an honor."

She laughed and looked around for his riding gear. "You go riding every Sunday with your mom, right?"

[fakes-death.livejournal.com]

It was sitting right on the chair where he left it, though he moved the tall boots next to the chair.

"Yes I do, but we don't have our own horse farm or anything."

[freshoffthefarm]

"I'll leave it as classified information," she told him with a smile, working on her scotch. The more she learned about him, even the none classified parts of him, the more she shook her head. "You've got all these pieces to you that don't always add up to the person that people see. It's... interesting."

[fakes-death.livejournal.com]

"Is it a good interesting or a bad interesting?"

Webb figured Annie was having a problem reconciling that he could be both the man in that CIA file and the man that goes out with his mother every week. He had to admit it was very schizophrenic. In fact, he doubted anyone but his mother had seen all of the different parts of who he is.

[freshoffthefarm]

"It's not a bad interesting."

She was having a problem reconciling all of the different parts of him that she knew personally. It wasn't a bad thing, but it made for knowing him an interesting experience. And it explained certain things, like why he was the way he was at times and why he did the things he did. It made his explanation for going into the Agency a bit more easy to understand.

Putting the photograph down, she asked, "Did you come close to winning?"

[fakes-death.livejournal.com]

"Not really, fencing was my best event but I even managed to lose that. We were near the bottom of the competitors. Hungary won that year."

[freshoffthefarm]

"It's sexy." She looked around the rest of the living room from where she stood. "This is how you spend your Sunday afternoons. With the newspaper and scotch."

It wasn't a question.

[fakes-death.livejournal.com]

"I vary the beverage."

He wasn't sure if she was surprised, shocked, or just decided to accept it for what it was.

[freshoffthefarm]

"Never water." Neither shocked nor surprised. In fact, it was another thing that was very 'him' once she thought about it. She'd accepted it for what it was.

[fakes-death.livejournal.com]

"Sometimes. I choose my drinks solely on feelings."

[freshoffthefarm]

"Really?"

She tilted her head at him, curious. "What does scotch mean? Or any of the other beverages for that matter?"

[fakes-death.livejournal.com]

"Well, I usually have a glass of wine if I want to sit back and relax. I try to stick to Vodka if I'm on a mission or a party, because you can't tell how much is in a drink. This is because I feel sorry for myself. The expensive stuff's for poker night."