Author's Notes/Disclaimer: Between school, being Tituba in my school's production of "The Crucible", and other such things I have not had much time to sit down I didn't have time to write this. Well, correction, I didn't have time to upload this. It's been done for weeks. Forgive me for the delay! Nothing has changed from last time, I still don't own any of this and I still don't have any money. Suing me would be pretty pointless.
After their impromptu breakfast in bed, Collins and Angel lay together in various states of undress. Angel was resting her head on Collins' chest, nibbling away lazily at one of the leftover strawberries, quite content with the world as she listened to his breathing. He shifted underneath her, earning a small pout. Another movement and Angel sat up.
"You're reminding me of a dog with fleas, the way you're twitching around down there."
Collins merely grunted in response, his mind completely elsewhere. The damn dinner reservation. He knew from teaching college students that procrastination never paid off, so he was now determined to get his priorities straightened out. He had to get the reservation out of the way before he completely forgot. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, but didn't get much farther than that before Angel grabbed his wrist.
"Honey, don't get upset!" She scooted closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder as she looked up at him with large brown eyes. "I didn't mean you were a smelly dog, honest."
It took all his will to keep a straight face. "No, it's not that. There's something I forgot to do. You just wait right here and I'll take care of it."
Angel thought about this prospect for a moment, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as she looked him over for the slightest trace of anger in his expression. After coming to the conclusion that he wasn't mad at her, she nodded. "You better come right back though."
He promised he would do just that, and then set off down the small hallway from the bedroom to the living area. The phone was tucked away in the corner of the room, sitting on a multicolored stool that couldn't be mistaken for anyone's but Angel's. In fact, the small apartment was Angel's. Not having a place to stay save for Mark and Roger's loft, Collins had quickly been taken into Angel's eclectic living space, where stacks of fabrics were piled in organized chaos and everywhere a person turned there was a palette of loud colors and an array of odd shapes that were as pleasing to the soul as they were to the eye. The living area was the most confusing room of all, with posters of musicians and models tacked up on almost every wall, making the canary yellow paint fade into the background. The phone, as stated, was placed on one of Angel's latest haggling victories, and this is where Collins sat as he held the phone in his lap.
"Shit," he muttered. Where was he going to call? He vaguely remembered a few of the nearby restaurants' phone numbers, but none of them were as formal as he'd wanted. Hopping off the stool, he rummaged through the stacks of magazines and books on the coffee table, finally finding the most recent phone book. Flipping through it, he came across a small Italian bistro that was somewhat close by, just a subway ride away. On second thought, Collins pondered, it would be a bit more romantic to splurge on a taxi ride. Angel always thought taxi rides were adventurous. He made note of that, then set about dialing the number.
A few rings. Finally, someone picked up and began the spiel that one always hears when calling a fancy place of business. "Hello, thank you for calling Mario's Fine Italian Cuisine, this is Patricio speaking. How may I help you?"
"Hey," Collins said cooly. "I'd like to make a reservation for –"
The heavily accented voice, Patricio, cut him off. "Tonight? I'm very sorry, sir, but we're booked all night tonight. It's Valentine's Day, you know."
Collins sighed, wanting to protest, but quickly realizing how futile it would be. "Thank you anyway."
He marched back over to the coffee table. The phone book was full of restaurants, he'd find one. In fact, he did find another one. It was French this time, and he fathomed that Angel would probably be more impressed with a French restaurant anyway. He glanced at the number and was about to return to the phone and dial it when a voice rang out from down the hall.
"Honey?" Angel was getting impatient, he could tell by the tone of voice she was using. He'd have to hurry up. "Were you talking to yourself just now?"
"No, my dear, just stay tight for a few more minutes." He hurriedly dialed the phone and waited for someone to pick up.
"Le Chien Mort," said another thick accented male voice. "How may I assist you?"
Collins cleared his throat, an attempt at sounding professional. "I would like to make a dinner reservation for tonight. Uh, Collins, party of two."
There was a long pause, and Collins would have thought that the voice had hung up if it weren't for the buzz of the restaurant in the background. Finally the voice began to speak once more. "I'm so sorry, but zee tables are already booked for tonight. Zee next opening we have ees early tomorrow evening, but today ees Valen–"
"Yes, I know it's Valentine's Day. Isn't there any table open? Could you put us on a waiting list?"
Collins could almost hear the glare the man was giving on the other end of the phone. "I am very sorry, but zee restaurant ees completely booked! There will be no exceptions!" Click.
"He hung up on me," Collins stated to no one in particular as he set the phone down. "That stupid bastard hung up on me, and now I'm completely screwed."
"Who on earth are you talking to?" Angel's thin brows were knit in concern and confusion as she cautiously made her way over to him, feeling his forehead as she squatted next to him.
"No one."
Angel just shrugged, an awkward silence forming between the two of them. She began to twirl a few strands of her wig around her finger, but then her stomach began to growl loudly. She looked slightly embarrassed, but then burst into a fit of giggles, burying her face into his chest.
"So where are we going for dinner tonight?"
"I, uh... There's, um, this one place that's near here..." Collins sputtered.
Angel smiled and gave him a knowing look before placing a hand on his shoulder. "The Life Café it is then, darling. Fabulous choice."
Collins exhaled deeply. Although he'd screwed up yet again, she still wasn't mad at him. It was beyond Collins' understanding as to how she dealt with a scatter-brained philosophy professor such as himself, but bless her, she did it with a smile on her face. Angel stood and smoothed the back of her skirt, giving him a flirtatious wink before moving to the couch. He looked at the clock. It was almost noon now. He wasn't going to give up hope just yet. He'd make it up to Angel. He just had to.
