Title: Not Another Cliche Love Story! Part 5.

Fandom: X-Men movieverse

Characters: ensemble

Rating: PG-13

Summary: AU, Ryro. Probably will be funny, not angsty and most likely a little cliche.

Author's Notes: Parts will probably be very short.

Marie unlocked the door to her apartment and entered, unable to keep the stupid grin off her face. She sat the brown paper bag she was carrying on the kitchen counter and began to empty it. It contained what she planned on having for lunch, a peanut butter & jelly sandwich and a bag of potato chips, and the leftovers of her pie. They'd agreed, a month ago when they first had lunch together, that he'd buy them dessert and drinks and she'd bring sandwiches and chips so that it was somewhat healthier. Well, she'd agreed and he'd just stared at her. The small part of her that sounded like her mom told her 'she shouldn't have dessert at lunch and it was unhealthy', but if she could get free pie then by god she would take it! Today she'd only eaten the pie. The newest employee, Jean, was... eager, to say the least. She'd accidentally spilled a soda all over her sandwich. But the woman had seemed to be nice. She smiled and, shaking her head, made her way back into the living room. She glanced through the mail,

"Junk, bill, ad, junk, bill, bill. Yay."

She dropped it back on the table and made her way into her bedroom and her closet. It wasn't one of those walk-in closets that seemed so popular but it held all of her clothes, although her shoes had needed another home. She pulled out a little red dress and laid it on her bed, barely able to not jump up and down. John had - finally - asked her out on a actual date. It was for tonight, dinner at a restaurant he wouldn't tell her the name of, said he couldn't pronounce it, but had given her directions too. She was, obviously, excited.

She grabbed a pair of strappy black heels and tossed them next to the dress, staring at it for a second. She'd never worn it before, never found the occasion but John had said the place was fancy and it was a 'knock-out,' as Kitty said, dress. It was a gift from Kitty a few years back, which explained the color. It was a stunning red ruched halter dress with an empire waist marked by lace trim. The skirt fell in small waves just above her knees. She glanced at the clock, wondering how she'd make to 6, as she walked into her bathroom.

John paced back and forth in his living room anxiously. It was an hour 'til he had to met her at the restaurant. It was a small, fancy but not overly so, Italian place called Giovanna's after the owner's wife. He wasn't nervous, or at least he wouldn't admit he was, but he couldn't stop thinking about it. What if she didn't like Italian food? What if she didn't like Italian people? What if she liked to eat Italian people? At the last thought, he shook his head. He needed a drink.

Marie glanced at the clock for the fifth time in as many minutes and she pulled her left shoe on over her stockings, fighting to buckle it.

John ran his hand through his hair, roughly, jingling his keys with his other hand. It was 7:59, they were meeting at 8:30, and, even though it'd only take him fifteen minutes to get there, he was leaving at exactly 8.

Marie swallowed the last of her water and stole another glance at the clock. Finally! She grabbed her coat, had it on and was out the door before the annoying coo-coo clock her grandmother gave her had stopped chiming.

John rushed out the door, leaving it banging open behind him, which was considerably lucky considering he'd left his keys, his coat, and quite possibly his sanity inside. He ran back in, grabbed his keys and coat, and left again, barely closing the door behind himself.

They got there at exactly the same time, ending up parked next to each other. They sat in their cars, waiting for 8:30, for about 5 minutes before noticing each other. Marie gave a little wave, fighting a blush, and John rolled down his window, beckoning for her to do the same. After she did, he spoke,

"Hi."

"Hi." she replied.

"You're here early." He remarked."

"So are you."

"Hey!" A busboy, who looked more like he should be a bouncer, came out the back door and yelled at them, "No loitering!!"

John waved at him,

"I guess we should go in."

"Yeah."

"We'll have to wait to eat though, the reservation's not 'til 8:30."

"I know." She climbed out of her car and crossed her arms against the cold, fidgeting.

"This is awkward." He said, as they made their way inside.

"Yeah." She repeated.

They stood behind a bunch of other people and stared at the floor. Marie watched as a couple waitresses walked past John, who was facing the door, away from them. One was obviously going on a cigarette break anbd the other, looking hurried, was carrying what looked like a bowl of whipped cream.

John turned at the last second, the waitress tripped, and it became a bowl of whipped cream attached to John's face. Marie giggled at first but before a minute had passed she was full-out, stomach cramps, laughong. He removed the bowl from his face and took the rag from the waitress. Marie's laughing slowed and she smailed at him, eyes twinkling mischievously,

"You're wasting perfectly good whipped cream."

He looked at her, with his face half-covered in whipped cream and scooped some into his hand, crossing swiftly yo her and smearing it over her face as a man would if he were preparing to shave. She looked like Santa Claus. She smiled at him again, wider, and licked her lips, getting a good bit of whipped cream off her face,

"Yummy."

He rolled his eyes.

The waitress returned, apologized again, and then, despite them telling her they had a reservation and could wait, seated them, ahead of everyone else.

Marie sat down, smoothing her dress out, and unfolded her menu across the table.

"So, do you come to this restaurant often?"

"I've actually never been here before."

"Wow."

"WHy is that wow-worthy?"

"You just seem to like to eat out alot, that's all."

"Only if I'm in good company."

She blushed and looked down at her menu,

"What are you going to get?"

"I'm going to stick with a classic: spaghetti and meat balls. You?"

'Lasagna, with garlic bread."

"Yum."

Marie was about to say something when a loud clattering came from behind her. She turned to see what it was and could barely hold back a laugh. That poor waitress had tripped again and it looked like this time she was carrying 2 cups of coffee. Ouch.

"Well, looks like the girl's gonna be out of a job soon."

"Yeah. Aren't you glad all you got was a face full of whipped cream?"

"Yup."

"This food is fantastic."

"Yes, it is. We'll have to come here more often."

"We will." She smiled at him.

He smiled back at her and the only sound at their table for a few minutes was silverware clinking together until the waitress practically ran past their table in tears.

Marie entered her apartment that, at 10 p.m, to the sound of the telephone ringing.

"I'm coming, I'm coming." She grumbled good-naturedly, still floating, both from the date and the good night kiss she's just received. She dropped her purse and coat over the back of the couch on her way to the phone. As she pressed talk, she noticed the message light blinking.

'15 messages,' she thought to herself, 'I'm popular tonight.'

"Marie, thank god! I've been trying to get ahold of you since 9 o'clock. Where have you been?"

"I was on a date, Mom. What's so important?"

"Oh, you were? What fine timing you have, my dear." Her mother's voice dripped sarcasm. Something big must've happened, her mother 'didn't approve' of sarcasm, unless it suited her.

"Mom..."

"Well, I want to hear more about this date of yours later but right now, we have more important things to talk about. Your father had a stroke."