Chapter Text
Oliver stood in the foyer of his apartment, pacing. He wore a button-up with his usual accents of a waistcoat, jacket, and a scarf. He looked down at himself, thinking the outfit was entirely too loud, and there was a reason he wore all black on their first date. He held a bouquet of flowers in his fist, which was profusely sweating as he awaited Loretta to get ready. He was nervous.
“Why am I nervous? Come on, Putnam, that's a Charles thing. You have kissed this woman. You have had sex with this woman—a lot of sex. You have narrowly avoided multiple interlocking Broadway scandals with this woman. You have spent the night in her bed, and she spends every opportunity she can get in your bed. You married this woman for Christ’s sake. You have solved a murder with this woman. Got head from her in a bathtub. Got head from her in a lot of other places. You, sir. Have watched this woman burn pork chops, which took your tooth out, and then just stood there while she shotgunned 40-year-old weed through the gap. Because that’s…a totally…normal activity…just like it’s normal to talk to yourself and talk about yourself in the third person. Why am I, the great Oliver Putnam, nervous?”
“Because the great Oliver Putnam is trying to impress his wife.” Loretta’s voice made him spin around to the hallway where she stood, leaning against the wall, one arm supporting her weight on it. Oliver stared at her, eyes roaming her body. Her dress was long and flowing. He whistled to himself when he saw her.
“Wow…” he whispered. Loretta pushed off the wall and walked towards him. “Exactly how much of that did you hear?”
“Hm,” she put her arms around his neck and straightened his scarf. “Enough to know that you give a pep talk to yourself in third person about all the oral sex I give you when you’re nervous.”
“Helps me relax.”
Loretta kissed him softly. Oliver’s eyes tightened shut as he melted into it immediately. He kissed her back enthusiastically. Then he kissed her again and again. Loretta finally pulled back, breathless.
“Ollie. The idea is to mess up my lipstick after the date. Not before we’ve even had the chance to leave…” She reached up and wiped a red smudge off his lips. “How bad did you mess mine up?” Loretta went over to the mirror in the hallway.
“Can’t tell the difference. It looks fine,” Oliver said, trying to distract her from fixing it.
“You liar,” Loretta said from the hallway, fixing the smudges and reapplying the colour. When Loretta returned, Oliver was standing with the flowers held out in front of him.
“For you,” Oliver said.
“Oh, thank you…” She smiled, giggling nervously. “They’re beautiful.”
“Not as beautiful as you.”
Loretta stared at him for a moment before bursting out laughing. “Wow, how did you come up with that one?”
“I know. Corny.”
“Very. Don’t worry. We both know I'm a big fan of corny.”
“Hm, why?” Oliver chuckled. “Because you married me?”
She leaned up slightly and kissed the tip of his nose and then his lips again before walking into the kitchen to put the flowers in a vase. Oliver followed behind her, resting a hand against the door frame as he watched her. He walked up behind her, and his arms settled on her waist as he leaned over her and kissed the side of her neck.
“You know, Ollie,” she giggled. “If you just wanted to stay in and not go anywhere, you could have said so.”
“No, no. No, I plan on taking you out to dinner, and we can stroll around through the park, go on the ferry, maybe find a nice hotel…”
“Sounds nice,” Loretta said, tilting her head to let Oliver’s lips roam her neck. She let him continue kissing her while she reached back and ran her hand through his hair until he felt him nip her. “Oliver, no hickeys. I plan to look sensible at dinner.” She gently gripped the hair on his scalp and pulled him off.
“Ow. What?” She gave him a stern look. “Fine.” He straightened his jacket and scarf and offered his arm. “Shall we, Mrs. Putnam?”
“We shall.” She slipped her arm around his, and they headed for the door.
Oliver lay nearly asleep with his arms wrapped around Loretta in the hotel bed underneath the sheets. Their clothes were scattered around the room, and Loretta stared out the open window at the city lights making up the skyline. She sighed.
“I hate that we can’t do this more often,” she said quietly. Oliver inhaled deeply when he felt the vibrations of her talking against him. He woke up a little bit more and processed what she’d said.
“Me too,” he mumbled, finding her hand beneath the blankets and squeezing her fingers.
“You know they say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but…I did not anticipate it being this hard to stay away from you,” she chuckled sadly.
Realising that she wasn’t ready for him to fall asleep yet, Oliver forced his eyes open.
“Well, you’re doing what you love,” he said before leaning over and kissing her ear and then the back of her jawline. Loretta turned over in his arms.
“I know. And you’re right, I do love it. But…I’d be lying if I said I didn’t envy the others who get to actually see their spouse at the end of a long, exhausting day of shooting. Do you think we got married too quickly?”
“Probably,” Oliver chuckled. “But I don’t regret it. Not even a little. I just…I know we pride ourselves on our unconventionality...but I miss being able to date you.”
“Oliver, we went on one date.”
“Two.”
“Three if you count sex against your wall.”
“Four if you count me getting yelled at by you while we sat at Doreen’s piano.”
“Yeah, I don’t count that one because that was absolutely horrifying what you did.”
“And I’m sorry. The point is…whenever you’re home. And whenever I fly out there to see you…can we date? I know we’re married. But tonight was incredible. And I still have all my teeth.”
Loretta burst out laughing in his arms. Oliver joined her. She rolled on top of him beneath the covers. She kissed him.
“I’d like that…” she said quietly against his lips. “If I’m not exhausted by the time I get a break, of course,” she laughed sadly and rested her head on his shoulder, lips on his neck.
“Yes,” Oliver said. “Yes, if you're not exhausted. And if you are, then I’ll just lie in bed holding you. But whenever you’d like, we can even run away from the set for a few hours—just say the word,” he suggested. “But when you’re home, I plan on taking full advantage of the fact that we live in New York City. So what do you say? You were only officially my girlfriend for a few weeks.”
“I graduated between titles rather quickly. I was your crush for far longer than I was your secret lover or your girlfriend.”
“You’re still my crush, still my lover, though no longer secret, and now you are my wife. And I, your husband. But I hate that most people seem to feel relieved of the duties they had when they were dating now that they’re married. And we’re both incredibly busy…though I am only preoccupied when a murder pops up. Which I seem to have a reputation for. But no matter what happens, I don’t want to lose the excitement people feel when they date.”
“Me neither. I don’t want to lose our spark. Our passion.”
“Oh, perish the thought, baby.”
Loretta settled further into his arms, turning her head to look out at the city skyline again. Oliver kissed her hair and reached over to turn the bedside lamp off.