what's not to love?
Author: Nathalia
Rating: PG
Challenge: Quince #11 - what’s not to love?
Extras / Toppings: gummy bunnies (origfic_bingo: domestic bliss), malt (Easter Egg: Shayna: picture)
Story: Misfits
Summary: Dennis has a plan.
Notes: fluff. I misunderstood the “female character’s relationship to music” the first time around, so this is the real piece.
Jacques Brel’s chansons were playing when Dennis entered Winter’s office, a spacious room kept in white and blue with low shelves and glass desks over which her equipment was spread. To Dennis, everything looked the same; technology was not something he had ever gotten the hang of, even now that Winter spent a lot of time trying to teach him.
The musical choice always amused him because Winter was always so forward-minded in everything, yet in her musical preferences, she liked the old songs she had learned and grown up with that reminded her of home. Dennis had become somewhat of an expert when it came to chansons since he and Winter had started dating and they no longer bothered him like they had done for the first few months when Winter had listened to them. He had even come to enjoy them, learn some of the lyrics.
“Bonjour, mademoiselle!” He greeted his girlfriend who was facing the opposite way, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she coded.
She hadn’t noticed him before but now she stopped after she had finished her line and turned around to look at him. “Bonjour, monsieur Lawson. Qu’est-ce que je peux faire pour vous aujourd’hui?”
Dennis bit his lip, trying to think of how to answer, how to put the words. He had gotten good at understanding, mostly because of Winter’s music, but speaking still was an effort. “Peut-être tu peux do me the honor of having dinner avec moi?” he suggested and Winter laughed.
Winter laughed heartily, didn’t even make an effort to tell him how this should have been said. “I think I could arrange that.”
“At your place. I’m making you couscous and whatever else goes with couscous. I printed out a recipe. When you get home, I’ll have Charles Aznavour chansons playing in the background, dinner all prepared with candles on the table and after that, I was thinking you might want a massage?”
“What did you do wrong?” Winter asked, motioning Dennis to come to her and he did, leaning against the desk lazily, taking her small tender hand into his.
“I’ll get into that when I get the dessert out of the oven,” he winked.