Clive Dove was a cunning, intelligent man. He knew what he wanted, and how to get it.
So why was he standing here, outside her door, too afraid to even knock? He keeps wringing his hands, lifting the handle, before gently placing it back as to not make a sound. This process repeats itself for a good five minutes.
Okay Dove, get a hold of yourself, he thinks. He's never had any problems getting women to sleep with him, but asking for one date, a real one, has him shaking. Taking a deep breath, he closes his eyes, and knocks. He's surprised when his fist connects with something much softer than the wood of the door. Quirking an eyebrow, he opens his eyes, a confused expression on his sharp features.
And finds that he has knocked not on the door, but right in the middle of Flora's chest. It makes a terrible thunking noise, and for a while, they just stand there looking at each other. When his thoughts are gathered enough he snatches his hand back, letting it hang awkwardly at his side. He blinks.
"Oh shit. Sorry, Flora! I was going to knock, I swear I wasn't trying to feel you up or anything, but not that I wouldn't want to." Clive seems to realize what he said. "Shit. That's not what I meant. I meant that as in I still think you are very pretty, so don't be offended-"
"Clive." she interrupts. "Is there something you need? I have some errands to run, so if it isn't important, can you call me or something later?"
"O-oh sure." he stutters. She smiles at him as she breezes past.
"Flora!" he calls suddenly.
She turns, in the middle of opening the door of her car. "Yeah?"
"So, um, well I came here, actually, because, well, doyouwanttogotodinnerwithme?" he rushes.
Flora looks at him in surprise. Then, her mouth crinkles into a teasing smile. "Well, you didn't really get a good start, did you?"
He gives an uncomfortable laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Not really." Is that her way of saying no?
"Okay." she says simply.
"Okay." he repeats. "Okay? Um, yeah, so I'll pick you up at seven?"
"Sure!"
This time, he actually knocks on the door. Flora opens it, smiling shyly at him as he takes the sight of her in; a simple black dress.
"Wow. You look beautiful." he says. He offers her his arm. "Shall we go?"
She laughs as she takes it. The drive over to the restaurant is pleasant, filled with chatter and Clive is once again amazed at how easy it is to talk to her. He's suddenly hyperaware of everything that's going on, from the fact that her hair is finally down, to her pearl earrings and the fact that she's still considerably shorter than him even with heels on.
He's surprised that the car park is empty, as it was quite a popular restaurant, he recalls. Upon further inspection, he sees a poorly made sign reading:
Out of Business
"Fan-fucking-tastic." he mutters. Clive feels a small tug on his sleeve, and turns to find Flora looking at him questioningly.
"What are we going to do now?" she asks.
"I don't know. Sorry, Flora."
They find themselves wandering the streets of London, the cold air making Flora cling tightly to him. "I used to go to that restaurant with… with my parents. I didn't know that it was closed down."
She squeezes his arm, making a small hum of sympathy. Clive isn't one to accept pity, but he knows she understands. "Well, you have to make it up to me." she says casually. It takes a while for Clive to recognize the mirth in her voice.
"Make what up, Miss Reinhold?" he asks, playing along.
"Why, this awful date! It's simply horrible." she says haughtily.
"Then your wish is my command." he says, dodging the swipe Flora aimed at him.
"Okay," she begins, "What can you do to make it up? Let's see…" she stops and ponders, and Clive's suddenly worried she'll ask for something ridiculous.
"I know!" she exclaims happily. "You can buy me a churro!"
He blinks. "A… a churro? That's all you want?"
"Yup!" she chirps.
A small stand selling pretzels and churros is soon found, and the two find a park to eat their purchases. She talks animatedly about the university she's attending, the classes and professors, her plans. He listens, amused, and in turn tells her about himself. Flora's not as interested in his plans for the future, and blatantly tells him so.
"Tell me about you." she says.
"I thought that was what I was doing, until you told me to stop." he says dryly.
"No, no. I mean, your past. I've known you for, what, four years? But I don't really know you. Maybe that whole mysterious background is your thing, but I'm interested in it. You need at least one person you can tell everything to, you know?"
So he does. He tells her about his childhood, his parents, Constance. And he realizes it doesn't give him that dull ache that bringing up his past, something he'd buried away for years and years, normally causes. Instead, he feels lighter. It's good to finally talk about it, and Flora listens attentively.
It's only when he notices her shiver, though she tries to hide it, that he's finally aware of how late it is. When did the sun set and the street lamps flick on? When did the forgotten churros, or what remained of them, become cold and hard? "Come, now. We should head back." he stands up.
Flora shakes her head. "I'm fine! Please, keep going. I want to hear more."
He chuckles, pulling her up from the bench. "Well, then I guess you'll have to come on another date with me."
She smiles. "I think I will."
It became a tradition for the two. They'd get churros, and sit in the same spot in the park to eat them. Bit by bit, churro by churro, they got to know one another. Of course, he took her out to different places, but they'd always make time for it, even after they were married.
Needless to say, Clive had found a new favorite dessert.
A/N: Ahhh I love fluff. And churros. This is totally unrelated, but am I the only one (besides you, Sarah dear) who kinda ships Emmy/Broneph? I know, it's crazy, but I mean-
Pleeeease review! I get tons of hits (I KNOW you guys are reading) but no reviews. So yeah, drop one before you leave! Flame me, whatever. I just want to know what you think.