A/N: Super short chapter this time. Sorry guys. I guess I'm just impatient to get on to the drama already too, which should come up in the next two chapters~

Sorry for taking so long too, as usual. Im graduating soon, stuff is crazy busy, excuses, excuses. Anyway thank you so much for staying with me on this! 3

October 29th had been the coldest day of the season so far. On this day the sun was deceptively bright as it shone on shivering residents of Amsterdam who rushed through their daily tasks. The light of day was no match for the curtains that hung in the flat of Emil Steilsson, however, which had been drawn ever since they were put up.

Emil was currently preparing himself a gourmet lunch - his cooking skills having improved with all the free time he had when not working. It had been a week since his spontaneous adventure with Lars and he had pretty much come to accept the probability that he would never see the man again. He accepted it but he didn't like it one bit. He felt guilty for shouting at Lars, even though he could not understand why the other had seemed so offended. It was like he was growing nostalgic for something that never fully came to be.

Nonetheless he accepted this and had started to let it be and move on. So, naturally, it was about time for fate to step in and turn everything on it's head. Just as Emil was contemplating whether or not to add more salt to his 'plokkfiskur' creation, his doorbell rang.

He froze. Was he hearing things? He had never even heard his doorbell ring before, was he even sure that it was his? Still, he made his way over. The person on the other side of the door could either be a member of his nordic family or his Dutchman, and he wasn't sure which one he dreaded more. When he finally peered through the peekhole in the door and saw none other than Lars staring back at him, he decided he should act cool and ask anyway: "Who's there?"

"What, there's more than one person whom it could possibly be? You mean you've actually met someone else?" Emil heard from the other side. Flustered, he opened the door.

There he stood. The mysterious Dutchman Lars - what was his last name? - standing tall in a crisp, light brown trench coat, lowering his gaze to Emil. When their eyes met, Emil felt a pang of guilt shock him. Lars' tired eyes were cradled in dramatic, dark circles and red veins shone through his eyelids.

"C-come in..." Emil stammered, stepping back to allow the other room to enter, and nearly choking on the heavy scent of tobacco and something else that followed the other's movements. His instinct was to reprimand the man for coming over unannounced and uninvited, but something about the way Lars dragged himself through the threshold - almost limping? - made him search for a more gentle way to figure out what this was all about. "I don't remember telling you where I live..." he started.

Lars had made his way to a couch in the living room not too far from the door and settled on it. "Stuff like that is not too hard to figure out."

Emil wasn't too comfortable with that idea. "Either way... uhh... well are you hungry? I made myself some plokkfiskur earlier and have some leftovers... would you like them?" He asked.

"No because you're lying. That's the lunch you just made for yourself but haven't eaten yet."

Damn this man is good, Emil thought. He picked up the plate he had prepared, grabbed two forks, and went to join Lars on the couch. "Here. We'll share. Come on, I know you won't give up a free meal" he said, placing the food on the coffee table in front of them. Lars did not respond to this, only accepted a fork and began to dig in. The silence that fell between them as they began to eat was unsettling and heavy but Emil felt no obligation to break it. Lars was the one needing to explain himself. The other did no such thing, however, so the only sound to be heard was the clanking of their forks against the plate.

With every second that passed Emil grew more and more anxious. He stole a few glances at Lars, which he was sure the man noticed but ignored nonetheless. Even through his pale face and tired eyes his aura of intrigue was overwhelming. Maybe those things even added to it. Emil took note of his rigid jawline, the veins in his neck, his slender fingers - all through quick glances. He was not too arrogant to admit Lars was attractive. He was, however, too proud to admit that he was excited by entertaining such a man in the privacy of his own flat - out loud at least. Adrenaline pooled in his stomach.

Once their plate was clean, Lars took a deep breath and finally spoke up. "So. I came here because..." he seemed to be struggling with his words which felt odd to Emil. "I want to let you know me."

'Let me?' Emil thought. What, is it some kind of privilege? Still, he tried to answer rationally. "Oh... okay..."

"It's just that I am not very good at that. I don't like people to know me very much. But that creates... problems sometimes. So I was wanting to try it with you." He was still, his eyes fixed on some distant object in the room.

Emil found the awkward, serious atmosphere difficult to speak through. "...Okay, that's... good." Didn't he have anything better to offer? "Uhh... I liked our adventure. I think that I'd like to try more... things like that."

Emil felt the tension finally release from the body next to him. "Really." Lars stated, taken back. "What kind of things are we talking about here?" He seemed to light up like a dog who had just been offered a treat, engaged and tempted. Emil shifted in his seat uncomfortably at the abrupt change of mood.

"N-Nothing too big! you know... just... I had fun. That's all." Should he be careful as to not plant wild ideas in Lars' head? The man still had yet to prove himself trustworthy and clean, after all.

"Well then, let's have more fun, shall we?" Emil flushed red at this.

"Wh... uhh... yeah."

"And maybe this time" Lars tested "it could be a date?" Emil knew this should not have been a shock to him, but he stared wide-eyed and speechless at the other regardless. "I'll take that as a yes, then?" Emil couldn't move his lips to speak - he simply nodded. "Fantastic. I will be here tomorrow at 16h."

"I'm working tomorrow. I don't get off until 18h" answered Emil, calmer now, and actually telling the truth this time.

"Well then I will pick you up at your work! Where is it?"

"What, you don't already know somehow?"

Lars laughed. "No. Please, enlighten me."

"Fine then. I work at the Dirk on Bilderdijkstraat."

"Great. I'll see you then" Lars stood to exit too quickly for Emil's taste.

"Wait! he stood to follow the other to the door. "I mean... where will we go? Do I need to dress up or..."

Lars turned to face him as he stood in the doorway. It was phenomenal the difference that just the past half hour had made in the other's composure. His hair was still in need of combing and the bags under his eyes still begged for more sleep, but a rosiness had found its way to his face and a bounce now accompanied his every stride. Emil almost felt in danger staring into those now vibrant green eyes that glistened with the prospect of adventure. "Dress up?" he scoffed. "What kind of man do you think I am?"