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It’s Saturday morning just turned 8 when Tiffany’s phone buzzes, two short vibrations, a pause, then two more. OA. The fact that he has his own unique text tone is something Erika teases her mercilessly about, and despite Tiff’s best attempts at arguing that it’s just so she knows when work is contacting her, the fact that he’s the only one from 26 fed with a personalized notification makes that fib incredibly easy to see through.
Wanna grab breakfast? My treat. Our spot.
Our spot. She doesn’t even have to think about where he means. Flo’s, a 24 hour diner halfway between his place and hers, a pillar of the community that’s been around longer than she’s been alive with a menu she’s fairly sure hasn’t changed since day one.
If she’s honest with herself, the fact that she and OA have somewhere they both consider their spot is probably something that carries more weight than she’d like to admit, but then again, the bar is her and Scola’s. So really, having a spot with a coworker and a friend isn’t that strange…right?
The difference though, is that Scola is her partner. The bar is where they go to decompress, to lean on each other after a tough case. They’re not texting each other at 8am on their days off about grabbing breakfast together at their spot.
Still, she doesn’t hesitate for a moment to send back; Be there in twenty.
The reality is, as she pulls on a pair of jeans and a sweater, unless she’s completely misinterpreting the situation, Tiff is fairly certain that her and Omar have been toeing the line between friends and more than friends for several months now. She’s also fairly certain that line has narrowed even more just in the last few weeks.
Because whether or not they have a spot, most coworkers don’t comfort each other after a breakup with dinner, and yet when a glum looking OA had let her know that his relationship with Gemma was over she’d linked her arm in his and brought him to the diner for some good old fashioned greasy guilty pleasure food. Hell, most friends don’t phone each other at 2 in the morning, and yet when she’d woken up gasping for breath, plagued with nightmares about Simonean, it had been damn near instinctive to call him. Sure enough he’d been at her door moments later, and despite the late hour had prompted her to tell him about it over a piece of Flo’s famous cherry pie.
Their spot.
She mulls it over on her walk to the diner. How really there’s only a handful of people in her life with whom she’d shared somewhere that was uniquely theirs. How much she likes that he’s become one of a chosen few to hold that position.
He’s waiting outside when she gets there, because of course he is, and the way his face splits into a wide grin the moment he sees her causes her to mirror it with one of her own.
“Hey. You were out for a run?”
The joggers and slightly sweaty sheen give it away, but OA spreads his arms as if to showcase his ensemble before replying, “that obvious?”
“I mean I am an FBI agent…trained to observe.”
He laughs at that, pulling her into a quick hug, then shooting her a rueful look as he holds open the door for her. “Shouldn’t have done that. I’m sweaty.”
“Nah, I don’t mind.”
She’s rewarded with a soft smirk as they make their way to their usual table, and OA clears his throat. “My mom was asking about you.”
It takes every ounce of self control to keep her voice even, tone nonchalant. “Oh yeah?”
“Oh yeah. Keeps asking when she gets to meet the woman I keep talking about.”
Woman. The word choice feels intentional. Not friend, not coworker. Nothing that clearly defines or limits what they are to each other.
In fact, the way that OA is glancing at her over his cup of coffee is making her feel that the shift in their relationship may be coming sooner rather than later. He’s talking about her meeting his mom for crying out loud. She’s pulled from the train of thought when a soft hand touches hers.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
He’s watching her so earnestly it makes her heart want to burst, but she just smiles instead.
“Just thinking. It’s been a long time since I met someone’s parents…like that.”
She’s gauging his reaction carefully; her own response had been foreword enough to test the waters, vague enough to be able to plead innocence if she’s horribly misread the situation.
It’s Omar though, and she never really seems to misread things when it comes to him. Sure enough he cocks his head to the side, tone curious, not judgemental as he asks, “I thought I remembered you saying you had a pretty serious relationship back in Atlanta? You didn’t meet his family?”
Oh.
It’s funny, in retrospect. OA has been such a constant presence in her life for the past few years, someone she feels so completely and utterly at ease with…she hadn’t realized that she’d never actually come out to him.
“Tiff?”
He’s furrowing her eyebrows, shooting her a look of concern, and Tiff gets the feeling she’s been quiet just a little too long. It’s not that she didn’t want him to know, in fact it’s actually a little shocking that it’s never come up before now. When she thinks about it, she suspects the reason why is that she’s so at ease with him, she just assumed he knew. That at some point during their knowing each other, she’d talked about it. Still, he clearly doesn’t, so offering him what she hopes is a slightly sheepish grin, she replies. “Uh, her parents.”
There’s next to no part of her that’s worried he’s going to respond badly, it’s OA of all people, and yet Tiff has had her fair share of comments from people she once trusted implicitly. Which is why it’s such a relief when he doesn’t miss a beat, simply corrects himself.
“Sorry, her parents. You didn’t meet them?”
“I did, but not as her girlfriend. They were real conservative. Delilah wasn’t even out to them, cause it would’ve fractured their relationship. So she introduced me as her friend, and later roommate.”
OA huffs, and she’s not exactly sure what it’s in response to, which must show on her face because he’s quick to reply, “I can’t stand people like that. Her parents, I mean.”
Once again, the sense of relief washes over Tiff like a balm to her soul. “Me neither. But hell, Terrence never came out to anyone in our family because he was worried. Even though I like to think I’m a pretty self assured person, I’m still picky about who knows that part of me.”
“I’m glad to know it.” Five words, simple as can be, yet they do more to put Tiffany at ease than she’ll ever be able to convey. Instead she just smiles.
“I’m glad you know it too. To be honest, I thought you already did. I feel so totally comfortable with you, it’s hard to believe you didn’t. That it’d never come up.”
He chuckles at that, and Tiff thinks she sees a small sense of pride flitting under the surface, as he really takes in the significance of what she’s said. There’s one other part that Tiff is curious about though, and she fiddles with her hands as she asks, “not that they’d have to know. Certainly not right off the bat. But uh, speaking of meeting parents…is the fact that I’m bisexual something that’d cause problems? Cause it was for Delilah’s parents, even though I was supposedly just a friend.”
OA thinks for a moment, leaning back in his chair, but it doesn’t seem to be the sort of pondering where he’s having trouble with knowing what the mindset would be, or that it’d be bad. Tiff is all too familiar with those expressions; mouths turned downward, worry lines etched in the corners of their face as they contemplate how best to phrase something that’ll inevitably be painful.
No, instead he looks like he’s simply remembering things, and sure enough there’s a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips now.
“When I was sixteen, just shortly after my baba died, my best friend since first grade, Jules, showed up at my front door at 11pm, middle of winter. No coat, just a backpack, in tears. Her parents found out she’s a lesbian, and it went…really badly. Kicked her out of the house badly. So, Jules came to my place. My mama didn’t hesitate, just brought her in, made her a cup of tea and hugged her.”
She’s heard him talk about Jules, but never like this. Which, Tiff considers, is actually something that she appreciates. It means the respect he has for his friend and her privacy is paramount.
“Anyways. Jules moved in, stayed with us all through high school. My mama helped her tour colleges, pick out a corsage for her prom date, and then when she and her girlfriend moved back to New York after they graduated, they stayed with her until their apartment was ready. She’s family.”
There’s a lump of emotion sitting uncomfortably in her throat, and Tiff takes a sip of her tea to help push it away. “Well, you can tell your mama I can’t wait to meet her.”
Now it’s OA’s turn to look nervous, but he doesn’t hesitate to respond with, “I’d uh, I’d like it if you met her as my girlfriend.”
And there it is. Just like that, the words they’ve been dancing around for months now are out in the open. He’s put it on the table, laid it all out in the open, and the ball is firmly in Tiffany’s court. She’s pretty sure the grin on her face is sign enough that she’s on board, but just in case it’s not, Tiff raises her glass. “Well then. Happy first date, OA.”
It’s a little unfair how much her heart flutters every time his face breaks into that huge smile she loves so much, but OA lifts his mug, clinks it against hers and repeats, “happy first date.”