A/N: I watched Ten Inch Hero a couple weeks ago (yes, because of Mr and Mrs Ackles, sue me, so) and it was a darling film. Here's what I like to imagine happened between the last two scenes.

If you can tell me where the quote on the apron is from, have a cookie. :D

"Was that a yes?"

"Yes, Boaz!"

The day went normal from there. Except she still had to look twice every time to make sure it was actually Priestly standing at the stove frying eggs or whatever. His blue dress shirt looked majorly out of place – in a good way, no doubt, hell, he could definitely pull it off – but she was weirdly relieved whenever the collar shifted and his tattoo became visible.

When Jen returned from her short trip to the shop, she gave Priestly a light punch on the arm. "Hey, Boaz – you wouldn't have to do anything with those spotty boys in the grocery store holding boxes of tampons like the Statue of Liberty holds her torch?"

Tish listened up. Piper laughed. "Oh yeah. Those kids. What's up with that?"

Priestly – Boaz – snickered into the cupboard he was just searching for vinegar. When he turned around, a half-embarrassed grin on his face, his eyes locked onto Tish's for a moment. "I, ah, might have told them that I was so…intimate with a woman that she trusted me to buy her tampons. And that the box was proof of how - how I, uh, how I was getting laid on a regular basis."

Jen and Piper laughed. "Nice work. That explains a lot."

Tish raised her brows. "And they believed you?"

"What's that supposed to mean, Platisha?"

"Tish, you should've seen the kids. They would have believed him if he'd told them he was Madonna's PA." Piper rummaged through the art supplies bag she'd brought along for when she would go over to Noah's. "Listen, Chef du cuisine, could you go without the apron for a minute?"

He shrugged and took the apron off. "Sure. What d'you need it for?"

"It looks strange. If you're going to show up all fancy, at least let me fix the apron so we're sure it's you."

She placed it over a table, pulled out a small tube of fabric paint and squished its contents on her finger. Trucker, who had been in the backyard taking out the trash (and probably snogging Zo for a while, going by the state of his hair), wiped his hands on his trousers and peeked over her shoulder. "'That's a spatula, babe'? What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm an artist, Trucker. It's open to the interpretation of the beholder."

Tish grinned, stood on her tiptoes and stage-whispered into Boaz's ear: "Is that a spatula in your apron pocket or are you just happy to see me?"

Without his piercings and the eyeliner, his cheeks turned such a nice shade of blushy red.

You'd think that, after months and years working together, a first date shouldn't be awkward but it was. Priestly held the door open and pulled the chair back for her, let her order first, apologised when his foot touched her shin. He treated her with more gentlemanly respect than ever before…or maybe, a small voice whispered at the back of her mind, he has always treated me like that, only I was too busy to notice and he was too busy hiding it behind piercings and a Mohawk. The thought was both painful and exciting.

They both relaxed a bit when their food arrived. After five forks of spaghetti with celery-carrot-tomato sauce, Tish raised her glass and looked at Priestly. "So. What's your verdict?"

He put down the slice of artichoke pizza. "Verdict? On what?"

"Your pizza, of course. You're the cook."

"You want a verdict from me? Tish, I'm a sandwich cook! I fry stuff that goes between two slices of squishy bread! I'm absolutely not qualified to judge the food here –"

He looked mildly petrified. Tish stared at him with wide eyes, trying not to giggle.

"Jesus, Bo, relax. I'm only asking if you're liking your pizza." For good measure, she put a hand over his.

His shoulders dropped and he gave her a lopsided grin. "Oh. Good, that's – that's good. The pizza's good, too." He glanced at her hand and carefully wrapped his fingers around hers. "You like yours?"

She nodded and smiled. "It's really nice. This is a good place."

He ducked his head, gave her hand a light squeeze and picked up his neglected slice of pizza.

Later that night, when they were two steps from her front door, Priestly came to a halt and took her hand.

"Did you, uh", he paid way too much attention to his shoes, "did you have a nice evening?"

Tish laughed. Maybe it was the sheepish look on his face, maybe the way he messed up his hair, or the open button on his shirt (which revealed the tattoo, thank heaven) – she jumped on him, wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed him full on the mouth. "Does that answer your question?"

"Yeah." He beamed at her, carefully letting go of her so she could stand on her own feet again.

"Good." Tish leaned against him for a moment. "But do me a favour, Bo?"

"Probably anything…"

She pulled back and looked at him. "Actually, do us both a favour. Do your hair and put the piercings back in tomorrow, and put on the kilt if you want."

Priestly's face fell. He gestured towards his Banana Republic clothes. "You don't like it."

"I do. I do like it. Suits you, really. But you're not happy with it, I can tell."

"It's what a nice guy would wear, isn't it?"

"Priestly, I know you're a nice guy even when your shirt says that you sell crack for the CIA."

"Yeah?" He raised his eyebrows to a sceptical height. "Didn't notice that before so I don't know if I believe you there. No offense."

"None taken." She grinned. "But remind me who was it that told me about not judging someone because of what they look like?"

Slowly, his smile reappeared. "How hard did you hit your head again?"

"Shush. Maybe seeing you in a shirt was the slap in the face I needed. – Wait, let me rephrase that –"

He laughed and took both her hands. "Nah, 's fine. I know what you mean."

"Good. Because you know, I went to dinner with you, not a stranger in khakis."

Priestly smirked and pulled her closer. "Wouldn't that be your first."

"I don't see you complaining."

"Guess not."

Getting impatient, she stood on tip-toes again and closed the distance between them.

"Glad to have you back, Priestly", Trucker said, giving him a clap on the shoulder.

"Was I gone? I hadn't noticed."

Jen swirled around on her chair. "Yeah, we had a temp here. Boaz. Nice guy. Sound familiar?"

"Not really."

"He wore your apron", Piper added helpfully. Priestly glanced down at the garment covering his front and shrugged.

Tish sighed happily. She handed over a handful of sandwiches to a tourist family with no less than five children, bless them, and flung an arm around his waist.

"Is that a spatula in your apron pocket or are you just happy to see me?"

"That's a spatula, babe." He pointed at the writing before planting a kiss on her cheek. "But I'm also happy to see you."

"Happy to see you too, Bo."

Bo? Jen mouthed at Piper, who clapped a hand over her mouth to suppress a squeal. Trucker watched them with an amused expression. "God, aren't you guys cute..."

And Tish realised that the blush on her cheeks matched Priestly's.