Trying to dress an excited five year old in what was deemed 'acceptable' for a grown up date was much more difficult than Erik had anticipated.
No amount of stories, pleading or even bribing could make Halldór wear his nice clothes.

"They're itchy!" Halldór screamed and once more tried to hide behind the sofa.

"Where?" Erik looked at the shirt with disbelief. He had removed every single tag there was, run his fingers over every seam to check for anything that could be irritating his son's skin, yet found nothing.

"Everywhere," Halldór's muffled voice said from behind the sofa.

Erik sighed and tossed the shirt away.

"Fine," he grumbled, giving up on the nice clothes. "What do you want to wear then?" he tried, hoping if Halldór got a choice he'd at least not have to bring his son to a restaurant wearing PJ's or an over-sized sweater – both which were viable options if the five-year old's usual fashion sense was anything to go by.

Erik cursed his own sense of fashion as he tied his tie properly.
Halldór was doomed to wear hand-me-downs forever if he kept this thing up.

"This!" Halldór said triumphantly, standing in the doorway to Erik's room holding a dress.

"Sure," Erik said with a smile, delighted that it hadn't been the dinosaur costume his uncle bought him for his last birthday.

His brother's daughter was around the same age as Halldór, and had left a lot of clothes lying around. Halldór usually just tied the dresses around his neck to look like a superhero (or bird), but tonight he was adamant a dress was the only thing he would wear.

"I'm pretty like Cécile now!" Halldór giggled and twirled around on the floor as Erik brushed his teeth.

"Yes you are," Erik replied, trying not to laugh at his son's antics too much.

"Can I wear my ballet shoes?" Halldór asked hopefully.

"No," Erik shook his head.

"Why not?" Halldór pouted.

"Because the shoes might get dirty and then you can't dance in them," Erik explained, crouching down to tame Halldór's unruly hair.

"Oh," Halldór frowned, but appeared to accept that reply.
Although it took Erik another ten minutes to get Halldór's nice shoes on before he could strap him into his car seat and drive into town.

He almost wanted to beg Halldór to behave, but knew it would just be counterproductive.
Instead he lifted him out of the seat and gave him a peck to the check.

"Excited?" he asked.

Halldór nodded.

"Good. So am I," Erik admitted sheepishly as he locked the car and walked towards the cinema.

He couldn't see Cécile outside, but he didn't want to walk inside yet either.

"Dad," Halldór mumbled softly into the crook of his neck. "I'm cold."

"Dresses aren't as warm as trousers when you don't want to wear anything but your underwear under them," Erik sighed and put Halldór down on the ground for a moment until he could shrug off his suit jacket and bundle his son up in it.
"Better?" he asked once Halldór was snuggled inside the jacket and in his arms.

"Yes," Halldór giggled happily and flashed his father a toothy grin.

"Oh my, am I late?" Cécile muttered to herself as she spotted the pair down the road. Glancing at her watch she was leased to see she wasn't – Erik was simply early.

"My apologies," she said once she got close enough. "I hope I didn't make you wait too long."

"No, no," Erik smiled. "This little bundle of fabric decided he was cold," he glanced at his son who waved excitedly at Cécile from in-between the fabric of his jacket.

"Well we better get to the restaurant then," Cécile laughed. "Follow me," she chirped brightly.

Erik walked beside her, Halldór still in his arms – which Cécile found a mix of annoying and endearing.
Truth be told she'd love to interlock her arm with Erik's, but that was not happening as long as Halldór clung to his father's neck.
However; Cécile couldn't find the scene anything less than adorable.

"I hope you like Italian," she said as they rounded the corner.

"Yes…" Erik said before stopping dead in his tracks.
"Wait," he blinked and read the restaurant sign. "We're eating here?" the disbelief in his voice was enough to make Cécile grin.

"Of course," she giggled. "I know the owners," she reassured him before beckoning him inside.

Erik stepped inside, flinching a little as the door slammed shut behind him.

A rather angry looking man was glaring at him and Erik instinctively stepped a little closer to Cécile.
Business lunches he could do. This place was far too fancy for his liking.
White table clothes? Never a good sign.

"We have a dress code," the man said rather bitterly.

"And it's really cold outside," Cécile replied and smiled at the man. "He's with me, Romano. Calm down," she tutted at the taller man and Erik was pleased to see the guy visibly shrink under her glare.
Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, he thought to himself.
Halldór seemed oblivious to it all at least, which he was very thankful for.
"Are you going to tell me you're denying us entry because he wanted to keep his son warm?" Cécile tapped her foot against the floor and glared.

"No, of course not. Follow me," the man smiled politely. "I've got your table ready for you. Window seat. As requested," he added and bowed courteously as he pulled out a chair for Cécile.

Erik was left to pull out his own chair, placing Halldór down into it before removing his jacket.

Cécile's eyes widened as she spotted the pink and white dress Halldór was sporting.

"What a lovely outfit," she said.

"Thank you," Halldór blushed and stared at the table cloth shyly.

"I believe he wanted to match you," Erik chuckled as he took a seat himself opposite Cécile.

"Oh I see," Cécile smiled, genuinely flattered. "However, you're not quite there," she hummed.

"Sorry," Halldór mumbled quietly.

"No, no, don't be," Cécile shook her head and undid the ribbon in her hair. "Here," she said and handed it to Halldór. "Now it's complete," she smiled.

Halldór seemed ecstatic by the ribbon, hugging it tightly before demanding Erik to tie it in his hair.

"Okay, okay," Erik laughed and carefully tried to tie the ribbon into his son's hair.
It took him two tries before he gave up and tied it around his head like a headband instead.

"There," Erik said, "If you want to wear it like Cécile you'll have to grow your hair out."

"I like my hair short," Halldór pouted.

"It looks just as good like that," Cécile said helpfully, pleased to see Halldór smile happily at her words.

"Prettiest kid in the restaurant," Erik said and tickled Halldór's stomach gently.

And the only one, Cécile added in her mind as she glanced around the restaurant and the sea of old faces.
Some people were staring at them, but quickly averted their gaze when they realised she had spotted them.

'Idiots,' she thought to herself. Their table was by far the best and the most entertaining.

"I'm driving so no wine for me…" Erik mumbled. "But if you want wine then please be my guest," he added and smiled slightly.

"Oh no. I can't indulge on wine on my own when I have company, that simply wouldn't be right," Cécile shook her head and folded the wine list and placed it down, opting to look at the food instead.

"Are you sure?" Erik asked, feeling like he was perhaps ruining her dinner plans.

"I'm sure. Besides, drinking in front of children is a bad idea," she winked at him.

"Eh, well. Yes," Erik shrugged and glanced at Halldór who was pretending to read the Italian menu.

"Hello Cécile," a warm and friendly voice said.

"Hello Feliciano," Cécile greeted with a warm smile.

"Are you ready to order?" He asked.

"I am, but not sure about my date," Cécile giggled and turned to Erik who was peering at the menu and looking a little perplexed.

"My Italian is a bit rusty," he admitted. "I'm better at German," he added sheepishly.

"Well I would like the tagliatelle with tomato sauce please," Cécile closed her menu and handed it back to Feliciano.

"And for the gentleman and little lady?" Feliciano directed his question towards Erik.

"Boy," Erik corrected him.

"Oh, my apologies. Of course," Feliciano slapped his hand across his own face, "I do apologise. Should have guessed," he added with a light laugh. "I own some lovely dresses myself," he winked at Erik, who just smiled politely in turn.

"I want pizza," Halldór said, completely oblivious to the waiters slip up.

"Pizza for him then, and I'll try the risotto," Erik said as he took the menu away from Halldór and handed it back to the waiter.

"Certainly. And what can I get you for drinks?"

"Sparkling water for us two please," Cécile pointed at Erik.

"Apple juice for him if you have any, please," Erik said and gestured towards Halldór.

"Of course," Feliciano smiled brightly. "I won't be long."

Cécile wasn't sure what to say to break the silence, she was actually rather content just sitting there admiring Erik for a while.
He was easy on the eyes.
She could easily just admire him in silence, but that was sure to make him very uncomfortable.
Or inflate his ego.
Cécile wasn't sure if either was a good option.

"I like the choice of colour," she said to Halldór who was patting his hands all over the white table cloth, making little drumming noises.

"Hu?" Halldór looked up from the table and over at her.

"Your dress. It looks very cute,"
"Thank you," Halldór beamed before going back to making nonsensical noises.

"It's his cousin's," Erik explained. "I babysit my brothers' kid a few times and she's left a few clothes at our place."

"Oh I see. Same age as Halldór then I take it?"

"Yes," Erik nodded. "A few months older but not by much."

"How sweet," Cécile giggled, looking over towards Halldór who was muttering something to himself.

"Your food," Felaciano interrupted with a smile.

"Thank you," Cécile replied, trying to hide her amusement as Erik almost had to dive to prevent Halldór from splashing tomato sauce all over the table and himself as he eagerly reached for a slice of pizza.

"We do not play with food," Erik reminded his son and Halldór apologised very quietly.

Cécile stifled a laugh as Erik produced a child sized plastic fork and knife for Halldór from inside his suit pocket.

"Magic pockets," she giggled.

"Yeah. It comes with fatherhood," Erik smiled. "I also have wet-wipes, napkins and, uh," he paused and rummaged through his pockets, producing a few small rocks, a feather and what appeared to be cheerios.
"I am certain I cleaned the pockets out this morning…" Erik muttered to himself.

"Magic pockets," Cécile repeated with a grin. "There's no other explanation," she added.

"No. Clearly not," Erik chuckled.

"Faeries can do it too," Halldór said before taking a large bite of his pizza.

"True," Erik nodded. "Was it perhaps the faeries who said you could eat with your hands too?"

"Yes," Halldór nodded and giggled as he picked up another slice of pizza.

"Don't worry about it. No one will mind," Cécile reassured Erik with a gentle touch to his hand – and an accidental brush of her leg against his.

"Ah, yes, of course," Erik coughed and tried to hide the slow rise of red to his face.
"This looks really nice," he hurriedly added before taking a bite of his food.

Cécile really wanted to tell him to calm down.
She really wished she could tell him she'd take him home on the spot if she could – and no amount of him being awkward was going to change it.
However; to preserve the man's dignity, she simply smiled courtly and focused on eating her own food as daintily as possible

It was Halldór who broke the silence between them.
The little boy reached over and tugged at his father's sleeve.

"Dad," he whispered. "I wanna try your food," he said.

"Okay," Erik didn't even question it or argue, he just placed a tiny amount on his own fork and fed it to Halldór.
Cécile was sure she was having heart palpitations from the sheer cuteness.

"I like pizza more," Halldór concluded with a frown before turning his attention to Cécile.
"Can I try yours too?" he asked carefully.

"Of course," Cécile replied and followed Erik's example, a little worried she'd end up flinging tomato sauce all over Halldór's lovely dress.

Halldór opened wide and happily took a bite of her pasta, and judging by his expression he preferred it over Erik's food.

"Still like pizza better," Halldór said.

"That's fine. But you're good for trying new things," Erik praised and poked Halldór's cheek lightly.
"I'm proud of you," he added and Halldór positively beamed from the praise.

"Very mature of you," Cécile joined in, finding it far to difficult not to be engaged in Halldór's little adventures in new cuisine.

"I'm an adult," Halldór proclaimed very proudly, straightening up in his chair and smoothing out the wrinkles in his dress.

"In a few years yes," Erik said and ruffled his hair. "But trust me, being a kid is fun too."

Halldór seemed to consider his father's words before nodding.
"If I was an adult I can't be in Cécile's classes," he mumbled.

"You'd have to hire me as a private tutor," Cécile laughed.

"Does that mean you'd come home to our house and dance there?!" Halldór stood up in his chair and Erik had to hold a hand out to steady Halldór to keep him from tumbling off it.

"Possibly," Cécile giggled.

"You should, you should," Halldór smiled brightly. "Dad got me troll music."

"I got him Edvard Grieg's works on CD," Erik corrected quietly. "He won't stop referring to it as troll music."

"I see," Cécile smiled, unable to quote fathom just how adorable Halldór could be.
"I should probably get started on making new costumes for our new dance," she added as an after thought. "Not certain where to really start…"

"Basic deigns? Then miniature prototypes?" Erik suggested. "Thought you wanted my help for this," he added with a smile.

"I almost forgot," Cécile sighed. "I keep thinking of you as an illustrator, not a costume designer," she tapped her fingers against the table as she spoke. "Although I suppose if you're good at one you're good at the other?"

"A little," Erik muttered and scratched the back of his head. "I can easily design some outfits, but you should probably have input considering you'll know if it's possible to dance in them or not. I probably have leftover fabric to use for miniatures…"

"I don't think I could say no to such a wonderful offer," Cécile smiled. "Just say the time and day that suits you and I'm sure we can work out something."

"Tonight," Halldór suggested and giggled happily to himself.

"No no," Erik tried very hard not to glare at his son. "You are already awake well past your bedtime."

"How about, hmmm," Cécile went through her mental calendar. "Next Monday? After Dance classes?"

"Uh," Erik fumbled for his phone, checking his calendar before nodding. "Sure. That works."

"Good," Cécile smiled, proud of herself for arranging a second date of sorts with him.

Her attention was diverted by the sound of Halldór snoring.

Erik sighed and shook his head at the sight of the little boy leaning on the table and sleeping soundly with a napkin as a pillow.

"I think maybe his bedtime is now…" Erik chuckled softly.

"Of course," Cécile smiled. "I'll take care of the bill, so just get him home safely."

"Oh but don't you want me to escort you, I mean, it's dark outside and I figured maybe…"

"It will be fine. I need to catch up with Feliciano anyway, he's been smiling something awful at me for the past hour," Cécile laughed.

"Oh, okay," Erik nodded, carefully picking up and bundling Halldór up in his suit jacket again.
"Do you want your ribbon back?" he whispered.

"No, he can keep it."

"Thank you," Erik said.

"Come here," Cécile stood up and beckoned Erik closer. "Bend down, you're too tall," she added, smirking ever so slightly as Erik complied.
"Good night," she whispered and pressed a chaste kiss to Erik's cheek.

"Ye-yes, good night. Thank you for tonight," Erik said, cheeks red stained – and not just from the trace of lipstick Cécile had left behind.

"See you Monday," she said as she waved them off.

It took exactly 10 seconds before Feliciano and his brother was at her table.

"Who's he?" Romano demanded to know, already pushing a glass of rose wine towards her.

"A very handsome man," Cécile smiled secretively.

"Yes, we can see that. But details," Feliciano replied.

"Haven't you two got people to attend to?" Cécile smiled smugly behind her glass of wine.

"Eh," Romano waved his hand. "This is more important."

"Of course," Cécile giggled. "But why don't I just join you in the bar and I'll tell you more?"

"Hrm, fine," Romano huffed. "But you only get that glass for free, the others will be triple in price" he added.

"He actually means that you can get the whole bottle," Feliciano whispered in her ear and Cécile smiled. They never changed.