fandomtownies | The Perk, Wednesday, Noon

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The Perk, Wednesday, Noon

Ronan smiled as he settled at a table in the Perk, mug of steaming licorice tea in hand. He sipped at it, relishing the play of flavours across his tongue, letting the natural sweetness excite his taste buds.

Good tea was to be savored, not drunk. Even if it technically wasn't actually tea, having no leaves of that plant.

[Open for all your Ronan-ly and/or Perk-ly needs!]

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"Nothing big," Peter said. "Wondering what was going on, something about the secret number to a Swiss bank account - I hardly remember it."

Ronan laughed. "You won't get much out of that account," he said. "But, uh. ... About some of the stuff I do remember? I..." He grinned, deciding to dive in head first. "Well. You are pretty cute."

Well that was unexpected. Peter looked away, since blushing was undignified, and said "Okay, now you're buying me coffee."

"Sure I can't convince you to try some tea? Licorice, maybe, or peppermint?" Ronan asked, eyes sparkling. "Really, it's so much better for you than all that caffeine."

"I'm traveling during Thanksgiving," Peter said, not buying it. "I need all the caffeine I can get."

"Traveling home?" Ronan asked, eyes suddenly full of sympathy. "Okay, then, definitely, yeah. Caffeine. What's your poison?"

"Frappucino, thanks," Peter said. "I'm guessing you're not going home?"

Ronan shook his head, amused, as he ordered the drink and paid for it. "Ireland doesn't exactly observe Thanksgiving, after all," he replied. "Besides... my family and I aren't all that close."

"I figured for the first," Peter said. Any eye-rolling was aborted in favor of a look of sympathy. "Sorry about the second. I dunno what it would be like if I wasn't close with mine."

Ronan shrugged. "I have other family," he said. "I don't see them as often as I'd like, but they're the family I chose, not the family I was given." He smiled at a passing thought. "Maybe I'll see what they're doing for Thanksgiving, see if they can seat one more." He took Peter's drink and handed it to him, leading him over to the table where his tea still sat. "Anyway, enough talk of that. It's... it's good to see you up and about after last week. I really do appreciate how you sat with me so much."

"Hey, you pass out in front of a guy, he gets concerned," Peter said. "It's nice to see you looking better too. No more symptoms?"

"Nah, not even feeling weak anymore," Ronan said. "And definitely no more feverish ramblings." He grinned, and then continued, a bit teasingly, "Hey, wait, if I bought your coffee after calling you cute, does that mean this is a date?"

It was a good thing Peter wasn't taking a sip of his drink just then, as there might have been coughing. As it was he put his cup back down on the table, just to be on the safe side. "No, more like a bribe. Boy you're not shy are you?"

"Not hardly," Ronan said, chuckling a bit. "I don't find much use for it. Besides, if you react like that every time someone calls you cute, clearly I need to do it more often to help you get used to it. It's true, after all."

"Say that to all the guys who help you out in the clinic?" Peter replied with a quirk of his brow.

"... Okay, maybe it's more fun when they react like you do." Ronan shrugged a bit, his tone becoming a bit less playful. "Seriously, though... Thank you. For everything. A coffee's not enough, really -- dinner? After you get back from your visit home? I'll cook."

"Offering to cook for an Italian? Now you're pulling out the big guns," Peter said. He took a sip of his coffee, then added, "No double meaning intended."

Ronan choked on his mouthful of tea, barely avoiding spitting it all over Peter; but it wasn't shock, rather laughter, that prompted his reaction.

Swallowing, recovering himself, he replied, "Cooking's rather my thing." Still chuckling, he continued. "So, yes, I'm offering to cook for an Italian. I'll even offer to cook Italian." He grinned. "You may be surprised." He paused, taking a sip of his tea before adding, "I've got nothing against pulling out the big guns."

Peter might've looked a little smug at getting revenge for all the near spit-takes he'd inflicted on Peter. "Nah. Cook whatever you want. I'm not picky. If it's something you like, I wanna know about it. But so we're clear - no guns on a first date."

Ronan nodded. "I'll come up with something," he said. "There's a lot in my repertoire I could make. I'm guessing you don't have any objection to wine with dinner?"

He grinned. "And yes, definitely. No guns on the first date." Perhaps it was time to take things a little slower, anyway.

"I leave it up to you," Peter said. "If it goes with what you make, then sure."

"Perfect, then," Ronan said, taking another sip of his tea. "When do you get back? Monday evening work for you?"

"Sunday night but I've got class and everything on Monday," Peter said. "How about Tuesday instead?"

"Tuesday's perfect," Ronan said. "Say, seven PM? My room?"

"Seven pm, your room," Peter replied. "I'm looking forward to it."

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not_in_the_book - 2007-11-21 20:27 (UTC) - Expand

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