A/N: Just in case anyone thinks my imagination has run away with me here, and that no one could possibly be that rude or self-important, think again! My uncle, who shall remain nameless just in case, is infamous within my family for being the most obnoxious, irritating man in the world. So Darren isn't based on him at all. No sir. Well...maybe just a little! (Can you spot when I was being sarcastic?)

As always, please read and review!

The restaurant they were due to meet her family at was one of their favourites, and nothing Frankie said could persuade Horatio that they should go somewhere else. To make matter worse, it was run by friends of theirs: Ramiro and Alejandra Gomez had run the Delicio restaurant for years, and Frankie had had to admit the seafood there was the best in Miami. Still, she thought sadly, this would be the last time they went to the Delicio.

"What is so bad about this man that you can't take him to a restaurant more than once?" Horatio had asked repeatedly.

"I can't explain. Darren's just horrific in a social setting," Frankie sighed. "We could call my parents and tell them to meet us somewhere else?"

"No. Not until I get an explanation."

"Don't be so stubborn!"

"Don't be so irrational!" Frankie hit him on the arm for that comment and settled into a grumpy silence. They were still pointedly ignoring each other when her parents arrived, with her older sister and her husband following. Lucy immediately greeted Horatio with a kiss on the cheek, but her husband sat down and glowered at the surroundings.

"Not exactly what I was expecting," he drawled. "I thought you said this was a good restaurant Frankie."

Gritting her teeth, and whacking Horatio once more on the arm for good measure, Frankie smiled as sweetly as she could manage. "The food here is excellent. Alejandra is an amazing chef. She's brilliant with all manner of seafood." Darren rolled his eyes.

Ramiro made his way over with a stack of menus. "Francesca, mi niña, how are you? Better, yes? And who are your friends?" When it was explained that Frankie's family were visiting, Ramiro's smile widened as he nudged Horatio on the shoulder. "Ah, Horatio, you are having to be on best behaviour, yes? No shooting anyone tonight!"

Horatio flushed and muttered, "I only did that once." Frankie had her hand over her mouth to stifle laughter, as she remembered the ill-fated attempt to rob the Delicio while Horatio and she had been enjoying a meal there. Things always seemed to happen around him, she mused. Lucy and Darren both looked horrified, but her father seemed impressed.

The chef laughed at his friend's discomfort. "Like I said, no shooting tonight. Now, for you tonight, we have some excellent squid, fresh today, and Alejandra says her swordfish is magnificent tonight. Oh, and I would suggest the Gallo white Grenache – very fruity and refreshing."

A couple of bottles of the fine rose wine were soon on their table, while decisions were being made over what to eat. Frankie and Horatio didn't look at the menus, both having learnt long ago to go with Ramiro's recommendations. The Delicio menu had a wide variety of fish dishes, everything from grilled swordfish to paella, as well as a few other staples, such as steak and chicken. By the time Ramiro returned, Frankie was starving.

"So what will you have?"

Victoria followed her youngest daughter's lead and ordered the swordfish, while Horatio ordered the fried calamari squid rings. Mark ordered the surf 'n' turf platter of red snapper and steak, while Lucy went with seafood paella. Darren, naturally Frankie thought, had to be difficult.

"I think I'll have the chicken kiev," he said. Horatio raised his eyebrows. The man was at a restaurant specialising in seafood, and he ordered a chicken kiev? Perhaps Frankie did have a point.

Ramiro took their orders to the kitchen and reappeared carrying a couple of small plates. One contained olives marinated in Alejandra's secret recipe (which Frankie suspected was lemon, coriander and something she couldn't quite place) while the other held anchovy fillets soaked in lemon and olive oil. "A little tapas to keep you going," he said deprecatingly.

"So, you shot someone over dinner?" Mark asked, a devilish smile lighting his eyes, and reminding Horatio how similar he was to his daughter. "What did they do? Bad table manners perhaps?"

Amid the laughter, Horatio explained what had happened, and to his relief, fell into an easy conversation with Mark and the others. Darren disagreed with everything Horatio said, apparently on principle, but it was a pleasant enough evening.

When their meals were served, everyone tucked in with obvious relish. As usual, the food was outstanding, and Frankie's swordfish was the best she'd ever tasted. When she said as much, Horatio shook his head. "You say that every time we come here."

"So, how's the case coming?" Mark asked, accompanied by groans from the three women.

"No talking shop," Victoria ordered. "Let them both have an evening off. I'm sure Horatio doesn't want to spend his evening talking about his work." In an effort to change the subject, she turned to her son-in-law. "How's your food Darren?"

He wrinkled his nose and Frankie had a sudden vision of impending doom. This was where a perfectly nice evening turned into a night from hell. "Not particularly pleasant, I have to say. I had expected better than microwaved food." He waved imperiously at Ramiro to call him over. "I think you should replace this. It has been microwaved."

Ramiro looked confused, and Frankie wished the earth would open up and swallow her. "I think you may be mistaken sir."

"I know microwaved food when I taste it," Darren declared.

Ramiro looked embarrassed. "We don't have a microwave. My wife Alejandra cooks everything fresh."

"This has been microwaved!"

"We don't have one!" Ramiro snapped. "You can come and look in the kitchen if you wish to, but we do not have one!" He looked to Horatio and Frankie for support, but Horatio simply looked bemused, and Frankie was doing her best to slide under the table.

"Mine's wonderful, Ramiro," Horatio said, trying desperately to smooth over the dispute. "Alejandra has excelled herself once again."

Ramiro snorted, but it was almost possible to see ruffled feathers being smoothed back into place. "Well, I am pleased you like it. If you want something else, then I will order it for you, sir." Darren gave an exaggerated sigh and shook his head.

Once Ramiro had gone, Frankie glared at her brother in law. "How dare you speak to him like that?" she hissed. "That is so typical of you Darren, to ruin everyone's evening just because you weren't the centre of attention!"

"Hey!" Lucy snapped. "Don't talk to my husband like that! Just because Horatio is the paragon of virtue," she sneered, "it doesn't mean the rest of us have to be perfect!"

"Don't you dare start on Horatio! He's not the arrogant pig!"

Lucy opened her mouth, doubtless with another rejoinder, when Victoria interrupted with a quiet, but very firm, "Girls." Both women coloured but shut up, much to Horatio's relief. "I don't want the pair of you brawling in public like teenagers. Darren, you were very rude to Ramiro, but Frankie, you need to learn to control your temper! Don't smirk like that, Lucy, you're no better. Now, if we could return to what had been a very pleasant evening?"

Horatio quickly revised his opinion of Victoria Nelson. When he first met her, he had assumed that Mark was by far the stronger personality, that Victoria merely went along with her husband's opinion. With a few short sentences, without raising her voice one iota, she had stopped Frankie's temper in its tracks (no mean feat, Horatio knew), and stop Lucy from losing her temper too. By the looks of things, she had also embarrassed Darren. Victoria was clearly not a woman to be messed with.

Darren was very quiet for the rest of the meal, except for a few short sentences. He perked up again when the coffee was delivered though. Anxious to find a neutral topic, Victoria had led the conversation back around to work-related matters and Mark and Horatio were discussing the various methods of collecting fingerprints when Darren jumped in.

"Of course, it's not an exact science, neither is DNA analysis."

Horatio blinked a couple of times. "I think you'll find both are exact sciences."

"Well, according to something I read on the Internet, DNA is not a foolproof way of identifying someone, and it's possible to fake a sample."

"It's possible to plant a sample of DNA in order to implicate someone, but not to actually fake the sample," Horatio replied carefully. "Where did you read this?"

"Oh, I can't remember. But I do remember that DNA cannot be fully analysed yet."

"Well, that is true, in a manner of speaking," Horatio allowed. "We don't yet know what each gene and chromosome affects, but we can chart each strand of DNA and use that to identify someone."

"I think you'll find I'm right," Darren said airily.

Horatio exchanged incredulous looks with Frankie, who shrugged uneasily. Only Darren, when faced with someone who worked with DNA and fingerprints every day, would claim greater, and contradictory, knowledge. It was a relief when the evening was over.

"I am so sorry about him," Frankie apologised to Ramiro as they left.

"There's one in every family," he waved off her apology genially. "Nothing we can say or do will ever change them. My cousin is just the same." Frankie sighed with relief – the best restaurant in Miami would still let them in.

Horatio smiled as Frankie wearily climbed into the car. "OK, so you may have been right about taking them to a different restaurant."

"He's a jerk, isn't he?"

"Much as I hate to pass judgement, yes, he is." He shot her a sunny smile that made her breath catch in her throat. "I think I got the right sister though." She laughed, and hit him lightly. She leaned back against the head rest of the car and relaxed. Evenings with Darren were always a trial. She was always on edge, waiting for something to happen. Now that was done, she could relax and enjoy the rest of the night. After all, she thought wickedly, the night was still young.