Far Side of the Dolunay

B12 Problems (8. Bölüm)

Or alternative title: If Tomatoes Be The Food Of Love, Can On!

A/N: So here NazFer are in the post-kiss world. Even though the 'amnesia' part got tense and was hurting both of them, I liked this battle of wills they had going for a couple of episodes, especially that awkward dinner where memories are swirling around a lot - so here's my little extra scene for that. I wanted to imagine Ferit with his sleeves rolled up and the pair of them being all domestic 😍 For more swirly memories watch the YouTube clip linked above 🥰 As always, I truly appreciate your votes and comments!

Note: Most of you have probably read previous chapters, but I think this is the first time I reference things that I wrote in a previous chapter but did not appear in the show - e.g. are not canon. Each chapter is still standalone though.

Ferit Aslan was a strategist. He knew it, everyone knew it. Decide an approach, plan, execute, assess, adapt as necessary.

The gentle prompting yesterday hadn't worked, the public outing to the theatre hadn't worked. So he'd resorted to something more direct: invade the apartment and convince Nazlı to acknowledge what had happened between them through a delicate balance of playing her game while making it clear that he knew it was a game.

He'd been sincere in insisting that Nazlı's food was better than anything they could find in a restaurant, but his underlying intention had been to keep her environmental distractions to a minimum - and yet here she was, only across the table from him, but she might as well have been a million miles away.

He was determined to shorten that distance, to bring her back to this apartment, back to that night... But even as he took aim and fired at her flimsy 'amnesia' defence she'd apparently decided to absorb the impact and just keep going.

It was almost offensively simple and bullheaded as far as tactics went, but sort of entertaining, he had to admit.

'OoooOH, I'm so tired! We worked so hard today. I bet I could go to sleep right now if I tried.' Nazlı brought her hand up to cover her 'yawn'.

Another opening. The woman couldn't seem to help herself: she'd been dropping him opportunities to 'jog her memory' all night, trying so hard to stay away from certain topics of conversation that she always rounded back to them.

If he weren't so frustrated it would be hilarious.

'You do fall asleep easily. The other night you dropped off on my shoulder.' He leaned in towards her.

She froze, eyes widening. 'W... What?'

'Is that what you want to forget, Nazlı?'

She panicked and didn't even try to cover up the change of subject. 'Shall I make some tea? We have chamomile?'

'Sure. Though it might make us sleepy. 'He held eye contact, not giving an inch.

A short beat. 'Coffee. I'll make coffee.'

She leapt up and scurried off to the kitchen where he heard the kettle clicking on, then the sound of running water. Another delay tactic.

He'd be lying if he said he didn't get some small measure of enjoyment from the somewhat tense repartee, but he was starting to get concerned. Nazlı didn't shy away from speaking her mind, didn't avoid doing what was necessary - it was a trait he greatly admired in her. So why was she pretending? What could be making her run like this?

Gathering up their plates, Ferit moved quietly round to the kitchen to see Nazlı at the sink, clashing crocks around and muttering under her breath.

'... honestly... Tomatoes, pasta, coffee... Well, there'll be no dessert!... enough to be getting on with... on his shoulder, really, was that necess-'