Prompt: First
Don cursed as he burned his third batch of chicken parmigana. He didn't understand, he was following Danny's mother's receipt perfectly and it was still burning.
Why the hell hadn't he just taken her out for their first date? What made him think a home cooked meal was a great idea?
He knew the answer; of course, it was because Stella was always saying she was sick of men making big, romantic, expensive overtures and then turning out to be creeps or murderers or married or all of the above.
So, when he finally, finally, got her to agree to a date the last thing he wanted to do was be like ever other loser she dated. He wanted to do something special, something different, something that would show her she could trust him.
Instead, he was going to be serving her Cajun style biscuits.
He threw the biscuits in the trash one by one, enjoying the slight violence in the motion and picked up the phone.
"Messer."
"Danny, its Don, I burned the chicken."
A chuckled, "You didn't…"
"I don't have time for jokes, or comments, or any of that crap. I need you to pick up some more stuff and come to my place and make dinner for Stella and me."
"I really don't see why I should…"
"If you don't get here in the next hour, I am going to call your fiancé and tell her about that time you ended up naked in the street on St. Patrick's Day, and the time you almost got beat up by that surfer, and oh yeah that time last week when you flirted with the receptionist. Now, get your bony little ass over here and help me."
For a full minute, Danny was silent.
Then, "My ass is not bony you asshole. I'll be there in thirty minutes."
Don took a deep breath and threw the phone on the table. He needed a beer.
"Okay, the chicken is done, the biscuits are done, the salad is done, and the wine is poured. Can you serve by yourself of should I put on a tux and play waiter?"
"Is there a reason you hate me tonight? Because maybe I haven't expressed fully how nervous I am. I mean you got your girl, Messer, a great one, but you remember what it was like when she wouldn't even talk to you. Now the girl I want to be mine has decided men aren't worth her time so maybe, just maybe I could get a little sympathy from you."
Danny ducked his head to hide a smile and smacked Don on the shoulder, "I'm sorry, man, really. Listen, just relax, and be yourself. She likes you, she's just scared. Take your time with her."
"Right, right," Don said, "I can do this."
It turned out he could do it. He'd managed to serve the food, pour the wine, and even settle the two of them down in front of a fire with the cheesecake he'd gone to three different bakeries to find.
"This is delicious," Stella said as she savored another piece of cake and make his insides melt.
"I'm glad you like it."
"It's my favorite."
"I know."
She was silent a moment, her face aglow in the fire, "You put a lot of work into tonight," it was a statement, not a question, "I mean Danny must have bugged you the entire time he cooked."
Don blushed, "So you knew it wasn't me, huh?"
She reached out and put her hand over his, "That doesn't it wasn't sweet and wonderful, because it was. Maybe the best first date ever."
His smile widened, "Does that mean I might get a second date?"
She leaned over, pressing her lips softly against the corner of his mouth, before pulling back, smirking at the dazed expression on his face, "I think your chances are pretty good."