A/N: And I'm back from the dead :) Just finished a major move, so it was time to get working on the stories once more. There isn't much more new to this story, and I'm still running into quite the writer's block with this story but hey, here's one more chapter added. Hooray! Reviews and input as always are greatly appreciated.


Djaq opened her front door and followed her nose to the kitchen where she saw Allan stooped over, pulling a pan out of the oven. With a flash of a smile as he looked over his shoulder, Allan set the pan on the counter.

"Welcome home, Dilly. Is lasagna okay for dinner?" Allan asked in the thickest Cockney accent he could manage. "It's even vegetarian."

"You made vegetarian for me? Thank you, Allan," Djaq said, touched.

Allan shrugged his shoulders as he crossed the kitchen to the refrigerator. "Will and I agreed that eating vegetarian for a single meal won't kill us. At least, we hope it won't."

"It will not," Djaq said with a smile. "Where is Will?

"He's up in his room working out some plans and making an inventory. The Master of Disguise came by earlier to bring some of the items Wills asked for. I think he's going to ask later for use of the back yard for his welding."

"He can have whatever he wants," Djaq replied absently. "Is Much staying for dinner?"

"No." When Djaq arched an eyebrow in his direction, Allan amended his statement. "He was already gone by the time I got home, Djaq. I promise I'll play nice when I see him next."

"I will hold you to that statement, Allan A Dale."

"Please do, Dilly. We're almost done here; can you go grab our master engineer?"

With a nod, Djaq left the kitchen and lightly jogged up the steps, hesitating outside of Will's closed door. With a bite to the lip and a resolute nod to herself, she raised her hand and knocked with authority.

"Come in."

Djaq opened the door and peered inside to see Will sitting on his bed, surrounded by various items, scribbling away on a piece of paper.

"Allan wanted me to tell you that dinner is ready," she said, voice steady.

With a quick start, Will looked up in her direction, a strand of hair falling in his eyes. "Oh, Djaq…hi."

"Hello."

"I didn't hear you come home. So dinner is ready?" he asked, setting aside his writing, long legs striding across the room.

"Yes, and it smells delicious," the doctor said as the two began their trek downstairs.

"Allan's cooking always smells delicious, he could be a professional chef if he wanted," Will allowed.

"So what brought him into the CIA?"

"His personality," Will deadpanned. "But his culinary skills don't go unappreciated by me. He even let me help this time; I made the salad."

"I bet it will be the best part," Djaq said playfully, her feet suddenly finding themselves glued to the floor when Will's hand found her shoulder.

"Uh, Djaq, about the other night," the dark-haired agent began.

"Yes…"

"I just want to say that I, I…"

He was interrupted by the more garrulous of the pair, who bustled out of the kitchen, hands full.

"There you two are! Want to help the chef out by setting the table?"

"Of course, Al," Will said quickly, relieving Allan of some of his burden. "What are we thinking letting you do all the work? You'll have strained something by now."

Allan cuffed him on the head with his now one free hand. "Little imp. Didn't you ever learn to respect your elders?"

"As a matter of fact, yes; especially when they cook for me. This looks fantastic, Allan."

"Thank you," Allan replied smugly. "And one of these days, you will learn, grasshopper. Or burn us all down while you try."

"And what about my respect?" Will asked, mockingly holding a hand to his wounded heart.

"It's here, somewhere, buried far underneath my charming sarcasm and wit."

Will rolled his eyes as he finished setting the table, Djaq lending a hand. The three seated themselves at the table, Allan eating the food as though it were about to be taken away from him.

"This is a fine meal, Allan; one to be savored and enjoyed," Djaq said as she herself savored a bite of the lasagna. "From the lasagna to the salad," she added with a small wink towards Will.

"All my meals are to be savored, Djaqie, but tonight, I'm in a hurry. I've got to meet the rest of the insurance gang at that club tonight. While I enjoy the fashionably late entrance, I don't want to miss everything; that would be unprofessional."

Will snorted at this but subsided at Allan's look; however, he couldn't resist one last dig at his friend. "Really, he just needs the extra time to look pretty for his night out."

"Don't pout, Will, you too will learn how to attract women, eventually."

"Ha ha," Will responded dryly. "Do you have a plan?"

"Nope," Allan smirked. "Well, nothing really concrete."

"I hate to interrupt this, and I do want to hear more, but remember that one little rule I have boys? We do not discuss work at the dinner table," Djaq reminded gently.

"Sorry, Djaq," the two boys chorused. Djaq and Will spent the rest of dinner in relative silence, the doctor slightly openmouthed as she watched Allan A Dale inhale his food, seemingly without the need of air.

With a flourished bow, Allan primly wiped his mouth with the napkin, letting out a belch at the end and leaving the table to jog up the stairs. With a shake of the head, Will got up and started to clean off the table, before Djaq took the plates out of his hand.

"Let me, you two cooked dinner," she said.

"It's fine, I don't mind," Will told her, trying to reclaim the dinnerware.

"I mind," she said with a smile. "Consider it a debt of honor."

"It was just dinner."

"Still," she countered.

"Then as honor dictates, I'll help," Will countered back.

"I would like that," Djaq told him softly. "And perhaps you can tell me more about this genius engineering plan of yours."

Will nodded and the two finished clearing off the table, with Djaq washing and Will taking up his drying duties. "Will, since it looks as though it is just us tonight, would you like to watch a documentary with me? It is about the historical and medical impacts of the Black Plague. Plus, Lardner is probably wanting some snuggle time," Djaq said, her big brown eyes opened as wide as possible.

"A documentary of the plague with my very own physician to walk me through the terminology, how can I say no? Especially to Lardner," Will said with his own shy smile. "I'll even pop some popcorn."

Djaq nodded, biting her lip, staring at the sink intently. "Um, Will, about yesterday…"

The pair was interrupted once more by Allan, as he sauntered into the kitchen before striking a model's pose. "Well, wadda think?"

Djaq's mouth really did drop open as she took in the handsome man before her. Allan was wearing a form-fitting, forest green button-down shirt paired with straight-legged black jeans. His hair was tousled and a braided choker necklace completed the look. "Allan, you look amazing!"

"I know, they're all going to be putty in my hands," the agent boasted, his blue eyes more vibrant than ever. "I'm just in the mood for a party tonight."

"Just remember, you're on a job," Will reminded him.

"Spoil-sport," Allan muttered. "Okay, well my cab should be getting here any minute. Are you two kids going to be able to survive without me?"

"We'll manage," Will told him, shoving him towards the door. "Now go do your job."

"Don't wait up for me, mom and dad," Allan waved a cheery goodnight as a car horn honked. The two watched him leave once more, neither looking at the other. They stood there in silence, listening as the cab door slammed shut and the car drove off.

"Popcorn," Will finally said. "We can't forget the popcorn."

"Will, about yesterday…"

"No, Djaq, just please…don't. Not right now. Let's just enjoy the show right now."

"Okay," Djaq readily agreed. "But you do know I am here when you need anything, anything at all."

"I know," Will said, sorrowful eyes gazing into hers. "And when I'm ready, I'll tell you. Everything."

..

Allan's feet couldn't stop bouncing as the cab pulled up in front of the club, the Gryphon. Thanking the driver and handing him a large tip, Allan ran his hand through his hair and walked up confidently to the waiting bouncer.

"Tom Black," he said as the man consulted the list in his hands.

"You're here; go on in," the large man said bluntly, gesturing towards the door, behind which loud. Middle Eastern music blared.

"Thanks, man," Allan drawled, lingering outside. "Good night, tonight?"

"It's okay," the man shrugged. "It can get crazy here sometimes, but as it's a private party tonight, should be pretty easy."

"That's cool; do you do a lot of private parties?"

"Not really, but I guess someone has a lot of clout, none of my business really. I'm just here to get paid."

"Truly spoken, my friend; guess I better make my entrance before they all worry about me and the whole party disintegrates. But if this place is as great as they say it is, I might have to come back later and bug you again, Geoff is it?"

"Aye, Geoff it is, and see ya around, mate," the man nodded with a friendly smile.

Allan smiled back and headed into the dark club, which was designed as a gothic castle. Looking up at the gargoyles that leered down at him, Allan decided to be suitably impressed by the gimmicky theme. He headed towards the bar, done up as a moat, and watched bemused as one Roger Stoke, three stools down, tried to pick up an unhappy looking girl. He continued watching as his tipsy coworker pulled out a business card and when attempting to give it to the unfortunate girl, dropped it in her drink instead.

"Ouch, not too smooth," a voice at his side said. Allan looked at the brown-haired man in the stool next to him, and shared a conspirator grin.

"Not even close," Allan responded. "How long has he been trying?"

But before the smirking, blue-eyed man next to him could answer, another voice split the air.

"Tom, you made it!"

Allan turned to see Annie hurrying his way, a flush upon her cheeks. Being dragged behind her was a sulky dark-haired man Allan recognized as Chief Constable Guy Gisborne.

"Hullo, Annie. Are you having a good birthday party so far?" Allan asked as he greeted her.

"I'm having a fantastic time, thank you," Annie grinned broadly. "I'd like you to meet Guy, the one who made this happen."

Guy just nodded in response to Allan's outstretched hand. Not showing the slightest embarrassment, Allan retracted his hand and stuffed it in his pocket. "Impressive party; you must have quite a bit of sway to get an entire night here for private use. I hear it's the hottest club in town."

Guy simply shrugged in response. "He's being modest," Annie giggled. "Guy is the Chief Constable!" she related, seemingly awed. 'He knows everybody, and everybody knows him."

"Sorry, new in town," Allan apologized to Guy. "And not being funny, but doesn't that get tiresome? Knowing everybody, all that hello and good-bying," Allan faked a shudder. "Wouldn't catch me being that popular," he grinned.

Guy smirked, "It has its occasional perks."

"I'll just take your word for it," Allan said. "So is being a Chief Constable a good job?"

"A lot of responsibility and…"

"And perks?" Allan interrupted with another charming smile.

The corners of Guy's mouth turned upward a tiny bit before catching a glimpse of something over Allan's shoulder. "If you'll excuse me, there's someone I need to talk with," he said. "Police business and all that."

And with that excuse, Guy strode off through the darkened club, swallowed up by the same black as his clothes and the crushing bodies dancing to the music. Annie watched him go, a small frown on her face. "He's always doing that, running off and leaving me behind," she muttered. "Marian probably came," she added bitterly.

"Can't have the birthday girl be unhappy," Allan said, frowning himself on the inside. Guy Gisborne was going to be tough to crack. Perhaps simply undercover wasn't going to be enough. He would have to get in close to Guy's inner circle, maybe even become a double agent. It was something to consider; maybe he could schedule a meeting with the elusive Arrow himself to talk it over?

"There should never be a frown on that pretty face of yours," he continued. "Would you like to dance, Annie?"

"Okay," she said happily. "Just don't try any funny business," she warned him laughing as she shook her finger. "Guy can have quite the temper."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Allan said with a smile as he escorted her to the dance floor. "When will I convince you that I don't like trouble in my life?"

"Somehow, I have a hard time believing that," she said as he spun her in a circle.

"Life does seem to have different thoughts," he agreed; ready to lose himself in the music for once. "But I learned to accept that a long time ago."