#pertinaciae

He should have known, from the moment he woke up, that things wouldn't go well. His phone died in the middle of the night because he forgot to charge it, he slept through his alarm, and so he only had a few minutes to charge his phone while he rushed around getting ready for work.

The new intern spilled coffee on him, and it took longer to calm the poor guy down than it took for Mike to find a shirt he could borrow from someone else. The shirt was stiff and scratchy, though, endlessly distracting for the rest of the day, and he took longer in the shower after, just letting the water run over his irritated skin, and when he got out to finish getting ready and checked the time, he almost panicked - he was running so late.

How could this happen? On today of all days? 

He sent Nanaba a quick text (Heading over soon, it'll be about 15 minutes) and then Mike got into his car, and it wouldn't start.

Mike sat in the driver's seat, staring at the wheel in disbelief, for a good five minutes, nearly missing the chime of his phone signaling a new text (From Nanaba, of course, a "Can't wait! :)" that he was too mortified to even fully register properly).

His phone beeped several times, then died.

With a groan, Mike laid his forehead on the steering wheel and closed his eyes, willing the day to get better.

Then he went inside, plugged his phone in, and called Erwin.

--

"I'm so, so, so sorry about this..."

Nanaba shook her head, smiling as she pulled the door closed behind her. "I promise it's okay," she insisted. "It's not your fault your car died."

Even so, Mike grimaced, his brow furrowing with concern.

Nanaba laughed, not unkindly, threading her arm through his. "Come on, let's eat."

--

"I'm sorry, you can't...?"

"I can't seem to find your reservation sir, I'm very sorry. If you would like me to put you down on the wait list..."

Mike glanced to Nanaba, meeting her gaze briefly. Her expression was unreadable.

And after all the trouble he'd gone to, getting reservations at her favorite restaurant...

"How long is the wait?"

The hostess winced. "It's... about an hour, sir. Maybe more."

At a loss, he looked back to Nanaba. 

She shrugged, shaking her head. "If it can't be helped..."

So Mike nodded, then looked back to the hostess. "It's fine, we'll eat somewhere else tonight. Another time, perhaps."

So, having splurged on the valet parking already, the pair took off down the sidewalk of Main street in search of another place to eat. But god, finding someplace nice with a reasonable wait in the middle of downtown was near impossible at six thirty on a Friday night. They settled for eating at the bar of an Italian restaurant that wasn't quite the caliber Mike had hoped for his first date with Nanaba.

And then, after waiting thirty minutes for their food to arrive anyway, spent nursing mediocre drinks as Mike told Nanaba everything wrong that had gone that day, trying his best not to sound like he was complaining too much, their entrees arrived.

Nanaba took a bite of the pasta in front of her, froze, and promptly spat it back out, her eyes widening with horror. 

"This is not chicken carbonara."

Mike stared, dread slowly twisting in his gut. He was almost afraid to ask, with the distress spreading across Nanaba's face. "What is it...?"

"There's some kind of shellfish in this."

Oh, no.

"Are you--?"

"Allergic to shellfish? Yeah. It's fine, I didn't--I didn't eat any of it, I just--Oh, geez..." She looked down at her hands, then covered her face. Mike's eyes widened at the red blotches already forming across the back of her hands. "I'm just going to run to the bathroom now, okay, yeah." And with that she was pushing past someone waiting by the bar.

Surely there is nothing more that could go wrong, Mike thought as he hurried after her, hesitating outside the door of the women's restroom, anxiety making him shift uneasily. Another woman gave him a critical eye as she went inside, and he pushed back the urge to press his ear to the door to see if he could hear anything.

Finally, after five minutes (and the woman from before exiting the bathroom and giving him another suspicious look), Mike went back to their seats at the bar, flagging down the bartender.

The man was at least properly apologetic for the mix-up, even offering Mike some benadryl to give to Nanaba, which he gratefully accepted.

The man offered to have them bring another pasta out, free of charge, but Mike just shook his head, asking him to box up his pasta (the classic spaghetti) to take home instead. When he rushed off to do just that, Mike went back to the restroom, lingering outside the door again, until another woman passed by to go inside.

"I'm--so sorry, could I get a favor? My--date is in there, and she's having something of an allergic reaction... I got her some benadryl, but..." 

The woman's expression brightened and she nodded, accepting the medicine and heading inside. She emerged not even 15 seconds later to tell Mike that Nanaba had asked for her purse, so he ran back to the bar to retrieve it, accepting the box of spaghetti from the bartender in the process, pausing to tip him and thank him for his understanding, and the man assured him it was all on the house. Returning to the restroom, he passed off Nanaba's purse, and settled down to wait.

When the bathroom door opened fifteen minutes later, Nanaba emerged, face slightly swollen, having obviously made every attempt with some make-up to cover the red blotches on her face that Mike could still see spreading down her neck and arms.

He grimaced, feeling awful. "I am so, so sorry about this..."

Nanaba laughed self-deprecatingly, shaking her head. "It's alright, I feel perfectly fine, just..." She sighed, gesturing to her face and arms.

"I had..." He held up the box of spaghetti, shrugging helplessly. "Figured you might just... want to go home."

Nanaba huffed, shrugging. "Yeah... Not too keen on the idea of sitting around in public while I'm blotchy and puffy from surprise clams."

So, threading her arm in his like she had at the beginning of the night, the pair headed for the exit.

Only to discover it was pouring rain.

"You have got to be kidding me..."

But the only thing he could do was slip off his jacket and drape it over Nanaba's shoulders. She clutched at the collar, holding it in place, and, slipping off her heels and handing them to Mike, grabbed him by the hand, grinning up at him helplessly, an exasperated, amused eyebrow quirking in question.

He sighed, cursing everything that had gone wrong, then nodded, and with that, they ran out into the rain, all four blocks back to the original restaurant, collecting the keys from the valet and paying with a soaking wet twenty.

In the car, he turned up the heat, trying to push down the anxiety twisting his stomach into knots and glaring at the umbrella on the floor in the back seat.

The ride back to Nanaba's apartment was silent, and Mike tried not to envision all the kind (and maybe not-so-kind) ways that Nanaba was surely going to tell him that while she had appreciated it, this obviously wasn't going to work out and they were better off as friends.

He parked the car and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, taking a deep breath and bracing himself, but it didn't stop the wince when she spoke.

"Hey." 

He glanced at her, soaking wet and shivering, hair dripping, makeup running down her cheeks, and could only think that surely it was unfair that even now she look so beautiful, when he surely looked (and smelled) like a wet dog.

"Despite all evidence to the contrary, I actually had a really great time tonight, and would really... well. I would not like to do this again, to be quite honest, but... Another date. With less bad luck." She shrugged, looking away. "If you want."

He nodded quickly, only taking a moment to get over the shock. "I--yes. I really would... And again, I'm so incredibly sorry about everything..." His gaze had dropped to the center console, so he missed the way her smile turned sharp, mischievous, only catching when she shifted in the seat, leaning forward, reaching and carefully pulling him close. His gasp was lost in the careful, insistent press of her lips on his.

"I'll forgive you," she said, eyes glittering, "if you come inside and help me get out of these wet clothes."

--