Date Night [Closed to Samantha]

[lincolnmiller]

He should have asked Lee's advice. Should've asked her last night or this morning but he hadn't and now, now he was stood in his boxer briefs not knowing what the hell to wear. A suit was kind of too much for dinner, for a first date at a restaurant he usually wore jeans and a tee too. And he kind of just wanted to put his Jurassic Park tee on and call it quits for the night. Except he kind of wanted to go. He kind of wanted to go a lot.

Finally settling for something between the two Lincoln grabbed his wallet, phone, and keys before stuffing them in his pocket. Heading out, it didn't even take him twenty minutes to walk over to Sam's. Knocking on the store door, Lincoln pressed his lips together as he buttoned his jacket up and then quickly unbuttoned it. Before, of course, he immediately buttoned it back up again.

"Play it cool, okay you're an idiot." Lincoln murmured to himself, looking up and smiling at Samantha. "Hey, I'm not late am I?"

Comments

[starting_over]

At this point, they'd be able to cook dinner on her face from the sheer heat of the blushes he kept causing, both in words and the soft touches under the table. "It's kind of funny to me, that with all your claims of being bad at the dating thing, you've had more relationships than I have." Yes, she was deflecting again, but it was her only defense against her head spontaneously combust. However, she could dish it back. "Not surprising, as gorgeous as you are."

Even around the blush, she managed and impish smile, and nodded at his offer of the arancini.

[lincolnmiller]

"One of them was from high school," Lincoln replied. Some of them hadn't even lasted a year and he was thirty, which compared to Roosevelt was probably pretty terrible numbers. Lincoln wasn't even sure how many girls Roosevelt had been with but he could probably count how many girls he'd been serious about. "So, it counts but I'm not sure how much it counts. Plus, I'm pretty sure I'm older than you."

Lincoln pressed his lips together, laughing lightly at that. For so long he'd been the tall, chubby, geeky guy at school. He wasn't the heartbreaker everyone kept telling him he was now. Still he didn't mind it when Samantha told him that. Like she actually meant it.

"Now that was pretty brazen, I like it." Lincoln replied, putting one of the arancini on a fork and offering it to her. "What do you think?"

[starting_over]

"I wouldn't be too sure of that," Samantha laughed, "and even though you're not supposed to ask a woman her age, I'll tell you mine. I'll be thirty this year." Her mouth twisted and she sighed a little. "Which is trying like hell to depress me, but I'm not going to let that happen tonight. So, were you right about the age thing?"

She leaned forward and took the offered bite, savoring it. "Not bad. I think I prefer the type without the peas, but theirs are very, very good."

[lincolnmiller]

"Well, see I am older than you so it does count. I'm already thirty," Lincoln replied laughing at first before reaching out to give her a warm smile. A hint of heat and mischief lingering in his eyes as he looked her over. "I don't see a thing to be depressed about. Do you want me to list the reasons? You might start your own fire over there if I do."

As she leaned forward, Lincoln followed the line of her throat and down before drawing his gaze upwards. Clearing his throat, he rubbed his knee against hers again for the moment content with the brief, tantalising touches.