Chapter 28: Keep To Yourself
Disclaimer: When I have to watch while my husband Brian Krause gets socked in the face by an oversized gallout—that's a clear marking that I DON'T own Charmed. And by the way, stop smirking Demian.
A/N: Sorry this took so long. As you already know if you read my other fic, I have mass amounts of homework that don't seem to be going away. But I'll definitely try to update better from now on. Oh, and, by the way—you know what I just noticed? I AM A TOTAL BITCH. How am I just noticing that now, you ask? Well I read some of the reviews on the last chapter and just thought—'Am I retarded, or is my name just Kaley Cuoco?' I mean, personally, I save the chapters of a story onto my laptop, read them whenever I have time, and then—if I can swing it around my homework, I review. And here I am bitching my ass off at all of you for not reviewing my story. Ch Damn—And Ch Damn again. And then WOW. And WOW again.
"So where'd you grow up?" David solicited across the booth as he forked a bit of Pam's pancakes.
"Hey…" Pam leaded, pulling her plate out of David's reach, "Eat your own."
"So I guess that means you're an only child," David presumed.
"Shows how much you know," Pam countered playfully, "I have three sisters."
"Really?" David said, raising his eyebrows in surprise and mild skepticism, "Three?"
"Yes, three," Pam confirmed, "We all live in a house up on Prescott Street."
"Mhmm…Prescott Street—fancy digs," David joked.
"We inherited it," Pam said, laughing, "It belonged to my parents and my grandparents and my great-grandparents before that."
"Oh, okay," David nodded, "Maybe you're just a reserved person then," David continued, "I sense that you like to keep to yourself."
"Well, yeah," Pam nodded slightly, "I guess I do. It just makes things easier, you know? The fewer ties you have to others, the easier it is to mess up; be sad; be your own person."
"What about be happy?" David inquired earnestly.
"I've never really had to worry much about that," Pam said before she could stop herself.
"Well then I guess that my aim is to change that," David resolved.
"Oh really now?" Pam said, intrigued.
"Definitely."
Pam smiled widely at the way David could so easily make her do just that: smile. She loosened up a little as David continued talking.
"So are you going to get back to my question later or just pretend like I never asked it?" David allowed.
"What question?" Pam said, furrowing her brow.
"Where'd you grow up?" David repeated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"How do you know I didn't grow up on Prescott Street?" Pam said, leaning farther away from David and getting slightly alarmed at the fact that he correctly assumed that she hadn't grown up in the Manor.
"I just have a feeling," David answered, leaning in as Pam leaned back.
"Far…" Pam began, a little flustered at how close David was leaning in.
"Far?" David asked, though not seeming like the location of Pam's hometown was his main priority.
"Far away," Pam corrected herself, gaining a bit of her composure back, "You've never heard of it."
"Try me," David challenged, leaning in closer and rising from the booth a bit in the process.
"Fine," Pam challenged back, "It's a little town in Los Angeles called Elderton…very small population—mostly old men who think they know a lot more than they do."
"I've never heard of it." David concluded, seeming genuinely confused at the fact that he had not, in fact, heard of Elderton.
"Told you so," Pam gloated, "And by the way," she continued with the slightest twinge of a smile, "You might want to lean back into that booth before more syrup gets on that pretty little shirt of yours."
Pam indicated to the object in question and David sat back down, clearly embarrassed. He wiped at his shirt with a clump of napkins as his face turned a deep red color.
Pam felt a stab of guilt and she saw David cutely fumble with the napkins in his hand. He looked like the kind of person who was harder on themselves than anyone else in the world—he looked kike the kind of person Pam was.
"Listen," she said as he finally met her gaze after satisfactorily removing the syrup from his shirt, "There's this old club downtown—my aunt used to own it and me and my sisters just got it up and running. The grand re-opening is tomorrow—I'll have a pass for you if you want it."
"You mean P3?" David questioned.
"Yeah…" Pam answered, once again getting the feeling that David knew a little too much about her; or at least more than he was letting on.
"You're kidding!" David commented. "I've been waiting for the opening since I heard the daughters of the original owner were re-opening the place. You and your sisters are the new owners? I thought you said that your aunt used to own it, not your mother."
"Yeah…well that's complicated…" Pam stated, the odd and foreboding feeling lifting a bit. It was completely reasonable for David to have heard of P3 re-opening. It had been broadcast on the radio. Pam tried to shut the little voice in the back of her head screaming "DEMON!" up as she continued to talk.
"I'll explain it to you some other time if you're lucky," Pam said hurriedly, wanting to get off the subject, "Like I said, I'll have a pass for you at the door."
"At the door?" David leaded, "Why not just give it to me in person?"
"What—you mean like a…a…" Pam stumbled over her own words.
"Date?" David completed Pam's sentence for her, "Well…yeah," David concluded, "Why not?"
"I don't think…" Pam started.
"Please…" David implored, widening his eyes like a small child.
"But…" Pam tried once more to turn the man down, now instantly regretting her extension of the pass in the first place.
"Pam…" David continued, "Please…for me?"
He then put on a look that made Pam feel like David was begging for his life and she was holding the knife. Nothing short of this could've broken her down.
"Fine!" Pam said, throwing her arms up in defeat.
"Yes!" David rejoiced a bit louder than he should've.
"Yes…fine…I'll go with you…on a date," Pam said; overpowered.
"Well speaking of dates," David mimicked, "We wouldn't want the P3 opening to be our first one."
"We wouldn't?" Pam said, cocking her head to the side in confusion.
"No, of course not. I mean, what do people do at clubs? They dance. It's awkward to only half-know the person you're dancing with. Either you dance with a stranger or you dance with someone you know. Halfway just makes things weird."
"It does?" Pam questioned once more, straightening her head but still sporting a look of confusion.
"Uh-huh. So I propose this: dinner and a movie tonight—I'll pick you up at 8:00."
"Wait—but—what?" Pam said, suddenly terribly alarmed at David's forwardness.
"Don't worry—I think I'll be able to guess which house on Prescott Street is yours."
David dropped some money on the table—clearly enough to pay for his meal in addition to Pam's—stood up, and began to make his way out of the restaurant.
"You what?" Pam screeched as she rose to meet David and try to stop him from leaving before he further explained himself. She caught up with him at the door of the restaurant
"You forgot..." Pam began, only to have David cut her off.
"You're right," David began, "I did forget something."
"Thank you…" Pam said to herself more than David, glad that he had presumably realized how incredibly fast he was moving.
"I forgot to give you this."
David swooped in and gave Pam the most engaging kiss she had ever received.
"I'll see you at 8:00." David said after breaking away.
He walked around Pam and spoke once more before exiting completely.
"Maybe I can get you to keep to me instead of yourself," He said, flashing a largely charming smile.
Pam stood there a bit star struck, not knowing what to do. All she knew was that she wanted David back and she wanted him back now. And after she got him back she never wanted to let go.
Suddenly, the last thing Pam Halliwell wanted to do, was to keep to herself.
A/N: Okay, I KNOW this is getting annoying. I promise to stop with the fillers, like, really soon. Promise! I just wanted to...I don't know—set up David's character…? Maybe…? Or set up him and Pam's relationship…? MAYBE…? Don't ask me why I write what I write! How am I supposed to know that? Who do I look like, Nostradomas? By the way, is an update a week good for you guys? Please review (But DON'T be pressed on it.)
