"To all of your hard work finally paying off,"
Harry said as he turned to him and raised his wine glass.
The twinkling lights of the art deco chandeliers reflected off the glass of Merlot the sommelier had just poured for him, as he angled his head toward the man seated beside him in one of the plush booths of Officina.
He swirled the contents of his drink, letting the aromas blend together as he took in the way the candlelight from the table flickered over Harry's pale skin and spoke,
"I'll drink to that… And to your patience throughout the months of prep and these last crazy weeks…"
Harry inclined his head, their eyes never wavering from each other, as they each took a sip of their wine. The night sky had enveloped the city around an hour ago, and the large windows that flanked their side of the restaurant showcased a breath-taking view of the London cityscape. Not that either of them seemed to care as they sat there enjoying, for the first time in months, a night out with no interruptions.
Harry placed his glass back on the table as he took another sip, closed his eyes, and hummed, savouring the smooth flavour.
"I assume you approve?"
Harry asked, his raspy chuckle drawing his gaze. As he lowered his glass, he allowed himself the pleasure of giving Harry a thorough once-over. He had had to go to the office early that morning to get all the paperwork sent off for this deal to finally be over, and the two of them had agreed to make the dinner reservation for tonight at eight. So, once he'd gotten home and ready, he'd waited for Harry, who had arrived a short time after.
Harry had quickly showered and changed and then stepped out of their bedroom, and it had taken everything he'd had in him not to tell him to turn the hell around and get back in there, because Harry looked…well, "ethereally gorgeous" about summed it up.
With his dark curls brushing his forehead, ears, and the collar of Harry's light blue dress shirt, his fingers had itched to spear through them and mess them all up as his eyes shifted to the sleeves Harry had casually rolled up his forearms. Around his neck, he wore a black tie with tiny white polka dots that was being kept in line by an elegant silver tie bar. But that wasn't what had his mood going from the relaxed vibe he'd eased into at the thought of a night out to not so much relaxed. Oh, no… That had everything to do with the finely checkered charcoal and white vest and pants set that fit Harry's lean torso and long legs in ways that made his cock hard and his desire to peel him out of the outfit the only thing on his brain.
"I do approve,"
He said, finally answering Harry's question,
"It's not too…sweet."
"No?"
"No. It has hints of a sweet sophistication but an underlying raw earthy quality."
Tom winked,
"It's got spice."
Harry laughed and raised his own wine back to his lips. He took another sip, and as he swallowed Tom followed the path the wine took down that beautiful throat. Then Harry placed his glass back on the table and picked up the menu,
"You got all that from a sip of your wine? I'll never understand you people."
Tom reached for his own menu and flipped it open,
"You people?"
The side of Harry's lips quirked, but he didn't take his eyes off the choices in front of him,
"Yeah. You fancy wine-tasting people."
Tom scoffed,
"You're a club owner and a bar tender. You should be one of those people. It always astounds me that you're not."
"I mean, I like a glass of it…"
Harry said, and then looked at the bottle on the table,
"Or a couple of glasses. But all the tastes and flavours… I'll leave that to your discerning palate."
"I do have very particular tastes."
Harry's eyes crinkled at the edges,
"Are we still talking about the wine?"
"Of course."
He looked back to his menu before he did something crazy like pull Harry across the table and…
"What are you thinking of having?"
You, was the first thing that popped into his head, but he shoved it aside, determined to have this night the way it should be had. That meant dinner, conversation, and then…
"Tom?"
Tom cleared his throat and studied the menu before looking up at Harry, who was watching him with an expression that matched his own. The heat and desire swirling in Harry's gorgeous emerald eyes told him loud and clear that there was no way that Harry currently was bored or unhappy with him.
That look said something else entirely. Then Harry leaned over and brushed his lips against his and he was forced to wonder if they should've gotten the physical part of the night out of the way first, because keeping his hands to himself right then was one of the hardest things he'd ever done.
When Harry sat back and brought his menu up to read through his choices once more, he tried to remember how to breathe,
"So, what are you thinking?"
Harry asked again.
"Give me a minute. I'm trying to remember how to think."
Harry smirked, and he shifted in his seat,
"How about you sit back and let me order for you? It's not like I don't know what you like. And tonight is supposed to be a celebration in your honour."
He replied, and shut his menu, curious to see if Harry would pick what he had decided on.
"Oh, I like the sound of that."
Harry smiled,
"I'm pretty sure I know what you like."
"Really?"
"Yep. I know you very well, Mr. Riddle"
Harry said, as Sergio, their waiter, stopped by their table with his hands clasped behind his back.
"All right, gentlemen. Have you made your choices?"
Harry nodded, turned toward the waiter, and pointed to the menu,
"For an appetizer, can we please have the Polpo?"
Score one for Harry. The octopus with the sunchoke, blood orange, and jalapeño had been exactly what he had been looking at.
"Certainly, sir. And for your mains?"
He already knew that Harry would pick the…
"Gnocchi for me, thanks…"
"Ahh yes, with the black truffle and ricotta. That's one of my favorites,"
Sergio said, and then turned in his direction,
"And for you, sir?"
"I believe my fate lies in his hands tonight,"
He said, aiming a smile up at Sergio. Yes, he'd let Harry direct this portion of the evening. But later…
"Oh, very well."
Sergio looked back at Harry, who pointed to the menu and said,
"He'll have the Bistecca alla Fiorentina. Cooked medium rare."
"That's a great choice. The porterhouse with the truffle hollandaise is one of our most popular items,"
Sergio said, taking the menus from Harry,
"You picked well. I'll go and get your orders in and they should be out soon."
As their waiter left, he looked over to see Harry take a sip of his wine before placing it back down and asking,
"Well, how'd I do?"
He knew that Harry knew how well he'd just nailed it, and that confidence made him love Harry even more. Harry was the only person who knew every single thing about him. Including, apparently, the exact meal he would pick for himself at an upscale Italian restaurant.
"You were spot-on."
Harry lounged back in the booth and raised an arm to rest it along the seat, then he winked,
"Told you I know you."
"That you did."
"Just like I know you're sitting there wondering what it means that I do know you that well."
"No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are."
Harry chuckled,
"It just means that I pay attention. It means that whenever I'm with you, I'm watching to see what you like and what you don't. And not just when it comes to eating."
His mouth opened, and then he cleared his throat and said,
"Is that right?"
"It is. But it's been a while since we've gone out to dinner, so I wanted to make sure I still had it."
He barely contained a groan as Harry's fingers flirted with the hair on the back of his neck,
"Oh, you've still got it. Trust me."
Harry's eyes lowered to his mouth, and when he said,
"Good,"
He had a feeling they had definitely moved on from discussing Harry's ability to pick out his meal.
