Morgan's Genie Ch. 06

Her smile didn't quite match his. "Thank you," she said. There was more friendship in her tone than authority, and yet... "I need you to pay close attention to where we go and what goes on around us while we're in the hospital. I won't want to spend the evening there, but we have to be careful about how we slip out so we aren't missed. Okay?"

Thomas merely nodded. "As you wish."

Her lips pursed. "Yeah, that's another movie I'm gonna have to show you."

"I'm sorry?"

"Word choice. Nevermind."

"Morgan, is there anything wrong? You've been somewhat distant in the last couple of days."

"There's plenty wrong, but none of that is right in front of me just yet. It's closer, now that we're here, but..." she shrugged and looked up at him. "I've had a lot on my mind, Thomas. Some of it is stuff I have to work out for myself. I've felt like talking to you would only confuse things. Be patient with me just a while longer?" she asked.

He gave a half-nod, half-bow. "Of course."

"Right now I just want to focus on the job—which is making sure we can slip out of here tonight without any issues. I'm not interested in spending the night in a hospital, or with my leg in a brace."

* * *

Learning the routine at Madigan Medical Center turned out to be much easier than that of the hospital at Landstuhl. This was, after all, familiar ground for Morgan. She only knew so much about the hospital itself, having come here only occasionally and for brief visits in the past. But she knew the area, knew the general ebb and flow of activity around Joint Base Lewis-McChord, and knew how stateside military folks liked to arranged their schedules.

As Morgan expected, practically everyone who checked her paperwork muttered something about her transfer being irregular, but gave the matter little further concern. She was processed, given a quick check by a nurse and then a somewhat more thorough exam by a doctor, all with raised eyebrows and encouraged smiles about her rapid recovery.

All the while, Thomas made his rounds of the hospital. He knew now how to look for cameras and exits, what to read and when to listen. By the time Morgan had been admitted to her room—again, thankfully, one she did not have to share—he knew most of what he needed to know.

He found her with her laptop opened and at work, scanning her screen with interest as she clicked her way through her work. "Mission accomplished?" she asked.

"I believe so," Thomas said. "There is a written schedule on the nurse's station for this floor. I took the liberty of conjuring a copy for you," he explained as he handed it to her. "This hospital is not as busy as Landstuhl or Baghdad's. I believe we can get away for an evening."

"Outstanding," she smiled, taking the schedule and reviewing it briefly. "So you made me a gold bar once. You can make beds larger and smaller. And you made clothes for yourself. Think you can make outfits for two?"

"Easily," he nodded.

She spun her laptop around to show him the picture. "Can you make that?" she asked. On the screen was a handsome man in black slacks and a stylish silk blue button-up shirt.

"It doesn't seem like it would flatter your beauty, but I can manage," he smirked.

"Hah. For you, doof. I'd like to see you in that, if you're willing to wear it."

"Of course I am," Thomas said. He changed in the blink of an eye; one moment, he was in fatigue pants and a black t-shirt, and in the next he was dressed for a night out. It fit him perfectly.

"Now how do you even know how the fabric feels?" Morgan asked, reaching out to touch his clothes. She found them softer than she expected, smoother and likely more comfortable than the real thing. "Or, then again, I guess it doesn't really matter, right?"

"It's magic," he shrugged. "I've used my imagination. I've come to find that the magic itself does a little bit of work to fill in the gaps."

"Gotcha. Well. As long as we're not getting hung up on little details." She turned her computer back to her, clicked through a few pages, and paused to assure herself of what she wanted before she spoke further. "Okay. It's past seven, so traffic out there won't be so bad. Can you make sure we're ready to go? Cast whatever magic spells you need so we can just slip out of here when I'm ready?"

Thomas nodded deeply once more, then turned and looked out the doorway. Morgan noticed that this trick seemed to be mostly centered on the entryways of a room more than anything else. When he stepped back inside, he said, "You'll be found sleeping soundly and with everything in a state of peace and normalcy," he explained. His head tilted curiously. "Are we going to visit your home?"

"No," Morgan huffed as if that would be a bad idea. "No, we're not going there at all. I'm not ready to deal with that yet. Feels kind of bad that I haven't called Dad yet to tell him I'm here, but..." she clicked around a little more on the laptop and sighed. "No, I've got to settle the rest of this first." She spun the computer around again.

"Here," she said. "I wish for these panties, these shoes and this dress, and I wish for them to fit me comfortably and perfectly so I'll look ravishing. Please," she added, smiling at him. Then she pointed to the bed. "On the bed, please. Not right on me. I'd like to get dressed under my own power."

He couldn't help but smile. The thought of Morgan walking beside him in a flattering, figure-hugging black dress like the one on the picture certainly lifted his spirits. The warrior of old Europe very much appreciated modern women's styles. There was much to be said for a dress with a long slit up one leg.

A moment later, the clothes appeared on the bed in front of Morgan. "And the brace? The bandages?" she asked pleasantly. "Thank you," she said when they vanished within heartbeats.

"May I ask what we're up to tonight?"

"Date night," Morgan said. "You'll have to step outside, please. I'd like to get dressed."

"Date night?" Thomas asked. "What date is it? Is there something special about it?"

Morgan let out a melodramatic sigh, fighting off her grin. "A 'date' is any sort of prearranged meeting with possible romantic intent," she explained. "As in, 'Do I really like this guy?' or 'Will she sleep with me if I buy her dinner?' It's what we do now instead of having our parents decide who we're gonna marry."

"Ah. I see. The extensive 'try-out' period you discussed before."

"Yeah. And it's not just a matter of marriage. Sometimes it's just short-term interest. I've dated guys I knew damn well weren't gonna be my lifelong one and only. Anyway, out, you. I'm taking you out on a date tonight and I want to look good."

Thomas stepped out of the room. He had observations and corrections to make about what she had said, but they could wait. Seeing her in that dress could not.

* * *

"This city is even more amazing than the last!" Thomas exclaimed for the third time. He sat beside Morgan in the backseat of the taxi, looking out with wonder at all the lights, tall buildings and cars.

Morgan tried hard not to roll her eyes. It wasn't like he really knew any better. "It's only downtown Tacoma," she said.

"It's wonderful!"

She sighed. He had a lot to learn. Still, it was once again his night to be awestruck. The dress fit her perfectly, so much so that she figured just staying home and staring at herself in the mirror for awhile would be entertaining enough on a rainy night. Yet he had even more fun using his magic to cleanse and curl her brown hair, to give her a little eyeshadow and to redden her lips.

She felt beautiful, and loved it, and had no interest in being shown up by Tacoma of all places. "Hey. Magic man," she said, giving his hand a squeeze. "I'm over here."

Thomas turned back to her and gave that smile she'd come to adore. "My apologies," he said. "I'm new in town. Have I been ignoring you?"

She couldn't help but laugh. "Wow, sometimes I don't really know what I want," she confessed. "Half of me feels a little put out and the other half is glad that I'm not the only thing that can hold your attention."

"Eventually I'll become accustomed to this city and the others like it," Thomas assured her. "You will always be able to hold my attention." He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it softly, never breaking eye contact.

The two just stared at one another for a long moment. For the first time in days, Thomas had finally gotten Morgan to blush again.

"This is the place you wanted, right?" asked the cab driver. He pulled up to the glowing lights and shining black glass of the restaurant.

"It is," Morgan said. She pulled the card out of her wallet to pay for the taxi ride, smiling to herself as Thomas exited, rounded the car and opened the door for her even before the driver got to it. He waited with his hand extended, and helped her out as if he'd put in several years as a personal valet.

He even opened the door for her on the way in, but knew to let her take the lead from there. It wasn't as if he knew his way around a modern restaurant. So far, all he knew of them was from a handful of movies.

"Hi, we don't have a reservation," Morgan said to the hostess. "Table for two? Under the name of Thomas?"

"Absolutely," said the hostess, who did the same double-take on Morgan that everyone else seemed to need lately—and, for that matter, on Thomas. Morgan couldn't help but smile at the way the young woman's skin seemed to flush with color as she glanced up a third time at her escort. "It'll be at least a twenty minute wait, though. Would you like to have a seat in the bar?"

"We might in a moment, but I thought we'd go out on the patio for a few."

"Um. Okay," the hostess nodded, unsure as to why anyone would want to hang around outside on a late February night. They weren't exactly dressed warmly. "We'll let you know when your table is ready."

Morgan took a deep breath, and held tightly to Thomas's hand. "Thank you," she said, drawing him out behind her.

"I could be mistaken," Thomas said, "but this seems like a place for the wealthy, even with all these modern standards that I'm not used to."

"Yeah, you'd probably be impressed by a standard burger joint," she grimaced. "Don't worry, there'll be plenty of that, too."

"I can surely pay for all this," he mused, "presuming they accept gold? I could conjure more of your paper money, but you said that was to be avoided."

"It is. That's counterfeiting. Screws with the economy, and on principle I don't want to do that. Don't worry," she said, drawing him out to the well-lit patio and its heat lamps, "I'll take full advantage of your magic for material gain soon enough. Right now I can afford a single swanky night out. I'm buying for both of us."

"Thank you," he said.

Morgan turned to him, drawing both of his hands into hers and stepping close. "Can you make sure nobody's listening in on us? Or notices if I make a big scene?"

He tilted his head curiously, but nodded. "Done."

Again, Morgan took a long, steadying breath. Thomas waited patiently, feeling a bit guarded. For all her cheer, something weighty concerned her. "We need to have the talk, Thomas. The one I've been avoiding while I sorted things out."

"I... understand?" he replied, though he plainly didn't.

"I've been distant because I wanted to sort out how I felt about things. About you. My life. Everything. You're kind of distracting. Honestly, part of it was that I just wanted to see if you could get the clue and give me some space when I needed it, and you did, and I'm grateful. I'm sorry if it seemed like I was playing games with you. Honestly, that wouldn't be an unfair way to describe it. Women who play games like that with guys suck, and I'm sorry, but I just had to know."

He shook his head. "Morgan, you have nothing to apologize for. I am your servant."

"That's not all, though, is it?" Morgan asked. She looked at him intently. "Thomas, I need you to tell me how you feel about me. I need you to be honest and open. The truth, the whole truth, all that." She had her poker face on; though it was plain she cared about him, she left no indication as to what she wanted him to say.

She hadn't seen much in the way of self-doubt in his eyes before now, or at least, not when it came to his emotions. Morgan studied his face as he searched for the words to answer her. "I fear I still don't have enough sense of this time to answer you easily and directly, as a modern man could," he confessed. "I am unsure if what I would say will sound to you as it does to me.

"You are unlike anyone I have ever met, Morgan. The thought of being your friend, companion and your servant—as that is what I am now by nature of my magic—that thought fills me with joy. I am awed by your strength, your wit, your courage. Your heart. I have a sense now, I think, of how independent you are even by modern standards, and I admire that. You need no genie, nor even any ordinary servant.

"I wish to make you happy, whatever that might mean. And though it might be outside the bounds of my service, or inappropriate to my station or..." he shook his head, unsure of how to complete the thought. "I love you, Morgan."

She listened to him, her eyes beginning to shimmer, and finally took hold of his shirt and tugged him close, leaning her head against his shoulder with a sniffle. His arms came around her. "Oh, God, I thought you were building toward letting me down easy for a second there," she half-laughed and half-sobbed.

"Was that what you wanted to hear?" he asked.

"I wanted to hear the truth."

"That was it."

"Yeah," she sniffed again, and wiped her eyes, and looked up at him. Morgan grabbed the hair at the back of his head, pulling him in for a fierce kiss that she found difficult to maintain because she couldn't stop smiling. Her arms shook, and then she realized it was her whole body, and it wasn't from the cold. Thomas had taken care of that. He'd taken care of a lot of things. "Thomas, I'm in love with you, too," she whispered in between her kisses.

His embrace became more passionate, as did his lips. Before too long, Morgan had little trouble with her smiles anymore. She was happy, but his mouth on hers felt too good to disrupt with a grin. Morgan allowed herself to melt against him, feeling his body as he held her. Eventually she realized he was shaking a little, too.

She wasn't the only one with lowered defenses.

"So. Yeah. That's where I'm at," she managed as the moment cooled enough to speak again. He didn't release her, nor did she want him to. "Thomas, I feel awful about you being the servant and me being the mistress and all that, and half of why I feel awful about it is because it just feels so fucking awesome."

He shook his head gently. "I entered into this condition knowing I would serve someone. My only condition was that it be someone worthy. That it is someone I also love seems much more than I could have hoped for."

"Love shouldn't be about servitude. I don't want you to have to be the servant. I want you to be my lover and my partner. That's what's actually important."

"It is what I am," he shrugged. "I trust you. Treat me as you will. I know how you feel now." His lips came to her forehead. His warm embrace never wavered.

"This doesn't change anything for you?" Morgan asked. "I'm not a hypocrite for wanting a boyfriend and a genie? What about the whole jealousy thing? Don't I owe you as much loyalty as you owe me?"

He chuckled. "You mean your 'fling?' I never once thought there was any disloyalty in that. You have a fortune in magic now. In beauty. Why wouldn't you indulge? I hold you to no expectations."

"Yeah, but I don't want that, Thomas," she said. "I want you to be my lover. My man. With all that means. I don't want you to wait for some sign from me to tell you to get cuddly or frisky. I want you to follow your own moods. Speak your mind. All that. Please don't treat me like I'm just your boss and sleeping with me is just a job perk."

Thomas shook his head. "I will not," he assured her. "I will act as your lover and your servant. Trust me in this. It is what I am and it is what I want. Do you want other lovers?"

"Not seriously, no," Morgan huffed, "but you can't dangle candy in front of me like you have and not expect me to grab for it."

"So grab as much as you like," he shrugged.

Morgan grinned at him mischievously. "Sooner or later that shoe's gonna be on the other foot, y'know," she warned.

"I am not interested in other men."

"Not what I mean," she laughed, swatting him on the shoulder. She pulled away from him just a little, holding his hands and looking at him. "Part of me wants you to tear my clothes off right now, but I wanted to talk about other stuff. Our future. Us. And I wanted to do it before I lost my mind in bed with you. That, and... well, I wanted to be here so we'd have something to distract ourselves with if this conversation didn't really go like this."

"Thoughtful of you."

"And I've wanted a real steak for weeks. Ohmygod," she groaned. "I thought over and over again about wishing one up, but I wasn't sure if you'd really know how to make one, so I figured I'd just treat you."

"My love is too kind," Thomas grinned.

She grinned back. "I like the sound of that."

"As do I."

"Thomas? Party of two?" called a voice. The hostess smiled from the door, clearly approving of the lovely couple and their stance. Regardless of Thomas's magical concealment, a pleasant sight was still a pleasant sight.

Morgan wiped her eyes one last time and led him in by the hand. "C'mon, you."

They strode through the restaurant to a quiet, candle-lit table in a corner. Morgan was grateful for the natural shadows and noise control of her surroundings. She was also grateful, she had to admit, for the few admiring double-takes she and Thomas received on the way in. It was ego and it was petty and she knew it, but being so smoking hot that she was a walking distraction had so far been pretty awesome.

Still, none of them made her feel as beautiful as Thomas did merely by looking at her. She noticed as they sat that he was far less fascinated by his surroundings now. He accepted his menu with a polite thank-you, as did Morgan, but hardly gave it a glance. Everything was just scenery now.

"So don't let me tell you what to do here," Morgan said, "but I'm tellin' you that you want the New York steak medium well."

"What I want has very little to do with eating food," Thomas grinned.

She smiled and even blushed. It felt good that he could still do that to her. "You say that, but you haven't had a good steak yet," Morgan taunted him. She didn't even really need to look at her menu, and couldn't be bothered with it just now anyway. She put it aside, making no further pretense of looking at it while she trembled with the excitement of the moment.

"That's what I mean, though," Morgan told him. "I mean not right this second. I really want a nice romantic dinner with you. But I want you later, and I don't want you to just follow my lead."

He turned his head curiously as he listened to her. "You've still a lot to say," he observed.

"Yeah. I do. Thomas... I'm kind of a mess right now. I was a mess before you found me, and I mean even before the whole fight—and I know I don't look it, but that kind of freaked me out, too. And I know I'm really good at hiding it.

"My family's a mess. I figure any day I don't get a call or an email from my mother is better than one when I do, and that's just sad. I worry about my father. I joined up with the Army because I'm a believer, but the fact is it also just offered me a way out of the life I grew up with and I took it and never looked back. But the closer it got to time to getting out, the more scared I got of what might come next. Sometimes I think half the reason I stuck with the decision to get out was that I just refuse to be afraid of leaving."