I do not own Naruto.

Author's Notes: This does take place before the date, as does the next chapter. Thanks so much to all who reviewed!

oOo

When you are courting a nice girl an hour seems like a second. When you sit on a red-hot cinder a second seems like an hour. That's relativity. –Albert Einstein

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Early February

Hinata checked her watch. Five minutes until one. He still had time.

She tapped her fingers in rhythm along the lace embroidered table cloth, took a sip of water, and checked her watch again. It was still five minutes until one.

She was suddenly very, very tempted to bang her head against the table.

She had been waiting here for almost half an hour, her stomach growling and the polite refusals to have the bread brought increasingly hard. Father was usually on time for his appointments too, one might even say obsessively so, and to have him run this late could only be viewed as a personal slight.

I'm a Barbie girl! In a Barbie wooorrrlllld…

Hinata, mortified (she was going to kill Ino. She had warned that woman not to mess with her ringtones!) grabbed her phone and killed the music as quickly as she could. "Hello?" She asked, a little breathless with embarrassment.

"Hinata," Father acknowledged, "My meeting with the mayor ran over. I'm afraid I have to cancel our lunch. I apologize that I wasn't able to inform you earlier."

"That's… fine," Hinata spluttered, color in her cheeks as her temper rose. As if he couldn't have told her before now! "I understand. Maybe another time."

"I would enjoy that," Father said. "I have to go, I will speak with you later."

"Sure. Of course. Talk to you later."

"Um, Ma'am, wou—would you like me to bring your bread…?"

"Yes," Hinata said to the waiter, standing a careful distance away from her table, her voice barely controlled. "The bread would be lovely, thank you. Very much."

"Sure," the waiter, identified by his nametag as Mark, said. "Are you ready to order?"

"No," Hinata admitted. "I was waiting—I'll be ready in a few minutes. Sorry."

"No problem," the guy flashed a set of pearly whites, and Hinata noticed that he was handsome in a vague, generic way. Perhaps if he hadn't been trying to make himself into Justin Beiber's clone he would have been more interesting.

As soon as the waiter was out of sight, Hinata sighed and pressed the heels of her hand into her eyes and groaned. After weeks of not speaking, she had finally tried to contact her father, and now, naturally, he had cancelled past the last minute. To her shame, she felt her throat getting tight with sobs.

I'm being ridiculous, Hinata reminded herself, taking deep, controlled breaths and sitting up straight in the booth, smoothing her skirt. Absolutely ridiculous. I need to be strong, I need—I need—

I need chocolate.

"Well hello, Stranger," said a very familiar voice behind her, and big hands covered her eyes. She couldn't help the smile that came to her lips, and she laughed.

"Kiba."

"Good guess," Kiba said, scooting into the chair across from her with a grin. He, for once, didn't smell of dog. Kiba ran a dog rescue clinic, and also trained dogs for the blind. He almost always had his own mutt trailing after him no matter where he went, and Hinata was secretly glad that they had made the giant Akamaru stay out this time. Kiba usually got away with a lot by following the motto: "Better to ask forgiveness than permission".

"So!" Kiba said, sprawling in his chair with a grin. "How ya been, Gorgeous?"

"I've been good," Hinata said. "I finished that job for that jerk Mister Maier."

"The one you did in the Rosie the Riveter theme? You're lucky the wife liked that one so much!"

Hinata threw her head back and laughed, and when she stopped Kiba was watching her with that look in his eyes that said he was going to make things awkward again. Flirt, reach for her hand, stare at her, whatever he did, it always made things terribly uncomfortable for her. She had been friends with Kiba since they were kids, she loved him, but her feelings didn't venture anywhere near the romantic zone.

She cleared her throat, and leaned back slightly, smiling gratefully at the waiter as he brought out the bread. He eyed Kiba with obvious disappointment, and her rugged friend grinned with a supremely confident air. Hinata rolled her eyes.

"Are we ready to order?" the waiter asked.

"Mark!" Called yet another familiar voice, and Hinata blushed. Naruto. "Mark! Buddy! Is that you?"

Mark shook Naruto's hand, and from the look of fake surprise on Naruto's face when he caught sight of Hinata, she got the feeling the meeting may have been contrived. Outside of the job, where he had apparently no problem with casual flirting while she worked, they had spoken a few times on the phone. With the job winding to a close, their date was drawing ever nearer.

Which Hinata could not conceive as a bad thing. The more she got to know Naruto, on the few occasions they saw each other, the more she liked him.

"M—mister Uzumaki," Mark stuttered. "So nice to you again, Sir. What can I do for you?"

"Can I have a Coke?" Naruto asked. "Hinata! How are you?" He wrapped an arm around her shoulder in a hug, and before she knew it he had squeezed into the bench seat of the booth next to her and was shaking Kiba's hand with an ease that forced Kiba into politeness.

"I'm fine," Hinata said, a little shell-shocked from going to a miserable, lonely lunch to a small, testosterone-fueled party of male posturing. "Naruto, Kiba. Kiba, Naruto."

"Um," Mark mumbled, fidgeting. "Will there be any others joining you?"

"No," Hinata said firmly, before Naruto could invite his scary friend or Kiba could make a plea for Akamaru. "Thanks. I think I'm ready to order. And ready for the bread."

"Of course, of course," Mark said, eyeing Naruto carefully as he snagged the menu and flipped through it. Hinata wondered what Naruto could have done to Mark to make the other man so nervous. It didn't seem like fear, exactly, more like an extremely healthy respect—Hinata bet if Naruto asked him to, Mark would dress in drag and start singing "I'm a Nut."

"I'll have the Chicken Madeira," Hinata said.

"Can I share?" Kiba asked. "I know you can't eat it all."

"I was just about to offer."

"Awesome. I'm sharing with her."

"And I'll have the bacon cheeseburger thing," Naruto said, handing back the menu with a grin. "And, hey, Mark? Calm down."

"Sure," Mark said, his muscles relaxing immediately. "I'll be right back with your drinks and the bread."

Hinata frowned, watching him go. He had been so very, very nervous before, and now he looked like he'd had a ten hour session with a masseuse.

"Why you here alone?" Naruto asked, shifting slightly to block Mark out of her sight. He smiled, like he had no idea he had done it, and Hinata smiled back. Maybe she was just being paranoid. "Do you often come to expensive restaurants to eat alone?"

"I was waiting for my father," Hinata explained stiffly. "He had to cancel."

Kiba muttered several expletives under his breath, most of which made reference to her father's heritage or his manhood. "You mean you set up this big apology 'Let's be friends again' gig and he didn't even bother to show up?"

"He was with the mayor," Hinata said, warning him with her tone that this was not a subject she wanted to discuss. "I'm letting it slide."

"You shouldn't! The man is a total-"

"Kiba," Hinata warned. "Drop it."

Naruto was looking back and forth between them, brow furrowed. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and said: "Right, so… How 'bout them Lakers?"

Hinata smiled gratefully at the change of subject, and settled into safer territory.

oOo

Author's Notes: I do not own Star Wars either, in case there was any doubt on the matter. Also, I would really, really appreciate it if you would be so kind to review. I'm kind of a glutton. :)