A/N: first, thanks to all for reading and special thanks to those who reviewed!

Secondly, I might end up turning this into a three parter, so don't be surprised if I the titles change. I was planning on omitting the scene that comes after this, but now I'm having second thoughts... It might be a really short chapter, though, we'll see.

Thirdly, a update on Ballet Heels. I've recently gotten several questions about it, some from anonymous/guest users so I thought to answer all here. Yes, I'll post more on it at some point. Yes, it's a completed storyline, however, it has some holes, contradictory sections and misc scenes that need to be combined into chapters. The next one is probably the worst offender so it'll take some time (yes, I hate writing middles). Add to that my thesis writing and not having the Heels raw files on my current devices... Will take a bit of time before the next chapter is out! Thanks for your interest.

And So It Begins
 Pt 2/2

Andy couldn't believe how much the universe hated him. There was no other possible explanation why all his plans where it came to Sharon went up in flames.

Though, this time he had thought he was doing well. There was a new, much talked about restaurant, he had a reservation to said place and he had managed to make it clear this was a d word outing. Sure, it had been awkward in the beginning but that was to be expected after all the confusion and the ribbing they had taken over their inability to define their relationship. But he had put his best foot forwards and she had gone all out with a sexy dress, a new hairdo and darker than usual makeup that really brought out her eyes, especially since she had opted out of wearing her glasses.

But no. No, of course not they could not catch a break. He couldn't catch a break. This would all be hilarious if it weren't happening to him. It didn't feel all that alright to be left there on the front of a restaurant, on a date but standing alone and trying to discreetly catch the eye of the floor manager. Fortunately, he could excuse them quickly and leave without anyone paying any attention to him.

On exiting he saw Sharon through the glass doors, standing between a street lamp and a tree, her legs crossed, hands deep in the pockets of her trench coat. As soon as he appeared, she straightened and pulled her hands out. In a couple of swift strides she was standing in front of him, apologizing.

"I'm sorry, I know you went to a lot of trouble to think of this and to organize it and everything, but..."

"We could go back in, it's not going to be too long, she said."

"No, Andy, I don't want to go back in." She frowned. "You don't understand."

"No, Sharon, I don't understand." He huffed a breath. "I thought we were going on a date. I th—"

"We are going on a date."

"Well then, let's get back in there." He motioned with his hands and the jerky movements clearly communicated his frustration.

Sharon only shook her head and looked down the street.

"Goddammit, Sharon. Help me understand!"

"There's an Olive Garden a couple of blocks from here," she said, her voice a little distant.

"What?"

"An Olive Garden?"

Andy looked at her incredulous. He turned in a tight circle, raked hands through his hair and huffed a laugh. "You're seriously asking me to take you to an Olive Garden?"

"Why not?"

"Sharon," he pointed behind himself, "that there was a flaming four-star French restaurant! Fucking hell."

"I know. I know it is." She closed the distance, placed her hands on his waist and gently laid her forehead on his shoulder. Andy couldn't hide the frustration in the way his body fairly vibrated, but neither did he push her away. "I appreciate the thought," she said softly, "but I just can't, couldn't, do it. I'm sorry." He let her take a moment, just standing there before she took a deep breath and a step back. Her smile was a little tremulous when her eyes met his. "But I'd like to spend some time with you. Just the two of us, dinner, talking... Whatnot."

He could be an ass and make her explain — he wasn't exactly happy with the lack of reasons coming his way — but he knew pushing her was never the right choice. She wasn't saying 'call the whole thing off' so he guessed the evening still had potential.

"Okay," he sighed, "okay. Lead on."

They walked back to their car, slowly and quietly. Andy was still slightly seething; his heart was pounding a little faster than normal and he felt like taking a short run. Years ago, he had vowed not to ever be so cliche as to utter the sentence "he would never understand women" but right now he was damn close. For the life of him he couldn't understand what was so difficult about a nice restaurant! She was classy and dressed to the nines and seemed to be at home while mingling with all kinds of hotshots. What was one swanky evening? It wasn't as if they'd do this regularly, but he wanted the first official time to be special.

But no. No, he ended up driving them a few blocks south, to an Olive Garden parking lot. He was still disappointed and practically sneered at the stone facade.

"Um," Sharon broke into his thoughts, "if you don't want... Well, if you rather called this a night, we could..."

Andy turned to look at her. She was biting her lower lip, clearly nervous and a lot hesitant. The lights from outside shone on her face, making her eyes glint beautifully. She was beautiful.

"No, let's go. Get ourselves a pasta coma!"

He might have been a little too peppy in his reply and in the way he trotted to get her door, but it was worth it to get a smile from her. He offered her his arm and she readily took it.

When he walked her through the front door, Andy could feel Sharon's body relaxing. The smell of cheese, tomato and herbs combined with the low lighting was familiar and comforting. Clearly what she needed. It didn't seem to matter that there was a queue and the floor seemed to be filled with people, young and old.

While they were waiting to be seated, their eyes were drawn to a teenager who quickly ducked behind a divider column and after frantically looking around checked his wallet.

Andy couldn't help his smile. "First date and probably checking if he can afford whatever the chick ordered," he whispered to Sharon.

She chuckled. "You need to do the same?"

"Hell no." He looked around. "But it's a bit lowering to know the only difference between me and the fifteen-year-old is that I can afford my date's pasta. You absolutely sure this is the place to be on a first date?"

"You never been to Olive Garden on a date before?" Andy gave her a look. "Because I have."

"The men you've dated," he mumbled.

"Don't you mean 'fake dated'?"

"With you, who can tell?" He was sure she would have taken offence if not for him amping his smirk to eleven. The way her frown melted to dumbfoundedness on its way to a sweet smile told him he still had it.

It didn't take long for them to be next in line and even less time for them to follow a server to a table on the far side of the floor. Andy pulled out a chair for Sharon, but she shook her head and slid into the booth instead. He took the other side of the crescent, but before he could even accept the offered menu, Sharon was already scooting closer. He was surprised but definitely didn't mind the development.

It took Andy little time to decide on his dinner, but Sharon, despite all her self-claimed familiarity with Olive Garden, kept reading. He could still feel her nervousness.

"You're tense," he leaned in to whisper.

Sharon smiled at her lap before bumping his shoulder with hers. "So are you."

"Yeah." He chuckled. Trust her to turn the tables. But she wasn't incorrect. "Yeah, I am." He watched the people eating and talking and laughing, the slightly drab decor and even tried to catch a glimpse out of the windows. Sharon kept reading the menu, but as soon as she closed it and laid it on the table his focus turned to her. "I didn't tell you before," he murmured, "but you look beautiful tonight. Not that you don't usually, but—"

"Thank you, Andy. I know how to take a compliment." He smirked. Of that he was in no way convinced. "You look good too."

"Yeah," he grinned, a bit too smugly to be honest, "I got that from the way you were checking me out earlier."

Sharon looked at him from the corners of her eyes. "You got a problem with that?"

"No, ma'am." He waited for her to take a sip of the water the server left before pointedly looking at her cleavage where he saw the prettiest hint of her bra. "Just know I'll be doing the same."

She snorted. "And how is that news?"

Well, it wasn't, really. But before he could respond with more than a low laugh, their waiter appeared to take their orders. It might have been the perfect timing as after she left their conversation flowed more easily.

"How did you know there was an Olive Garden here?" he asked while they waited for their food.

"Ricky. He was visiting a couple of years back and we had some things to do in the area. That boy drives me crazy if he is hungry! I couldn't stand his whining, you would think he'd be above that by now, but no, he whined and complained and I just didn't have time for it. So, up comes the phone and this is what we found."

She gestured with her hands, and he was happy to note she was back to rambling on, her face animated and her tone light. He was even happier to note that after each gesture her palm lightly rested on his thigh. Midway to their pasta her calf was brushing against his shins.

An hour later Sharon had already given up on her mountain of pasta claiming that it would last her a week.

"Unless you let Rusty see it," Andy quickly pointed out.

"Well," she responded with a wide smile, "I don't think there's enough pasta in LA to last Rusty a week."

"Yeah, well," Andy sighed, letting a couple of penne slid from his fork back on to his plate, "I'm not sure even he would be that keen on this. No Italian should be forced to eat this." Sharon tried to hide her smile, but Andy was being serious. Almost, at least. "The only thing making this even worse," he continued, "would be if they showed football in here."

Sharon hid behind her hand but he could still hear her giggles.

"You know it's not that I hate the sport, but—"

"—but you love to hate on it," Sharon completed a little smugly. "I know."

He frowned. "It's not that! It's—"

"It's that you like to torment me," she said leaning even closer. "I like football."

He gave a dramatic sigh. "Well, no one said I deserved a perfect girlfriend."

Sharon laughed and tried to swat at his thigh. Andy was quicker, however, and took her hand in his.

"Sorry I hashed this up," he said earnestly. "I wanted something special, had it all planned and we're here, having the same disaster as on Valentine's."

Sharon turned solemn. "Don't, Andy." She rested her chin on his shoulder and looked at him with sincere eyes. "You did great, this is all on me." She looked for the perfect words, but found it hard to explain, even to herself. "I don't know why I couldn't do that, but that place... It just wasn't us. I didn't feel comfortable.

"Those people, they all were so..." She trailed off and shook her head. "I don't even know what!"

"So maybe," he said trying to understand, "maybe, we could try another date and see where that goes? Something a little less flashy and a little more us?"

She nodded. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being here. With me."