SquidgeWorld Archive

Chapter Text

"Right this way, sir," the maitre d' said loftily, leading Jim toward the table where Blair was already seated. He placed a menu in front of Jim, then hesitated briefly, a second menu in his hand, before Blair smiled.

"I'll just share his."

The maitre d' frowned, then cleared his throat. "Very good, sir. Your server will be right with you."

Blair chuckled lowly as the stiff, self-important man hurried away.

"You live for that, don't you?" Jim grinned.

"Yep," his partner confirmed. "So, what looks good tonight?"

Jim perused the menu. "Mmm, overpriced with a side of gouging. You sure you want to eat here?"

"I've heard really good things about the food. Rhonda just raved about it when her latest date brought her here, so I knew I had to bring *my* latest date here."

"I had better be your *only* date, Sandburg. For always."

"For always," Blair agreed firmly, placing a gentle hand unerringly on his lover's arm. "Now...what's on offer?"

Jim shrugged. "Well, you can't go wrong with a good steak. How about the prime rib?"

"Sounds good. What comes with it?"

"The usual types of potato and salad."

"Perfect. Shamus loves leftover prime rib."

"That garbage disposal loves anything that even smacks of food."

A soft woof from under the table made them laugh.

"I think he resembles that remark," Blair snickered.

A tall blonde woman dressed in a crisp white blouse and black trousers approached them with a smile, placing a wicker basket of rolls and pats of butter in the middle of the table. "Hi, my name's Christina. I'll be your server this evening."

Jim noted with approval that her eyes swept back and forth between both men rather than settling firmly on Jim as most wait staff were wont to do, ignoring Blair completely. He decided she would get a nice tip on the bill.

"Would you like to hear the specials?"

Jim nodded, and she listed them in detail, finishing with, "Have you chosen an appetizer this evening?"

Jim handed her the single menu. "No appetizer tonight. I'd like a 12 oz. prime rib, baked potato with everything and a house salad."

"Certainly, sir." Christina accepted the menu. "How would you like that cooked?"

"Medium rare."

She nodded, then turned to Blair. Jim's mental accounting of her tip went up a notch. "And you, sir?"

"I'll have what he's having, but I want mine medium well, with mashed potatoes and a Caesar salad."

"I'll put your order in right away. Would your service dog like some water?"

Jim's vision of her tip immediately doubled.

Blair smiled widely. "That's very kind, thank you, but he doesn't eat or drink while in harness."

Christina nodded, taking it in stride. "Yes, sir. Can I get you gentlemen anything else?"

Jim said, "No, that's it."

"I'll go put your order in now." She discreetly disappeared.

Blair leaned forward. "Okay, C-minus on the stuffy maitre d', but A-plus on the server."

Jim felt Shamus' head brush his calf under the table and bent down to give him a quick pat. "Yep, she's good."

They fell into discussing the day's events, pausing only when their meal was delivered, and Jim murmured, "Potatoes are at ten, broccoli's at two and steak is from four to eight," then dived right back into the conversation.

At the end of the meal, they declined dessert, and Blair pulled out his credit card to pay the bill.

Christina accepted it, saying, "I'll be right back with your receipt."

"You want to stop at the grocery store on the way home?" Jim asked. "We're still out of milk, and I think we only have one can of dog food left."

"Two," Blair corrected. "Nah, I'm tired. We can make do until tomorrow, can't we?"

"Works for me. I'm for hitting the hay when we get home, too."

Blair snorted. "Okay, I said I was tired, not dead. Bed, yes; sleep..." He grinned laciviously. "No."

"Christina-"

"-is approaching the table," Blair finished, turning toward her and holding out his hand for the small black folder.

"I'll be back for that in a minute," Christina told him. "Is there anything else I can get you gentlemen?"

Blair shook his head, and she departed. "Damn, I wish we could take her with us every place we go."

"Me, too," Jim agreed. He took the folder Blair proffered and clicked the pen that was inside. "So...25 percent?"

Blair laughed. "That's a lot of money!"

"She was really good."

"That she was. Twenty-five percent," he agreed.

Jim totalled the receipt and signed it, then handed it back to Blair, who handed it to Christina when she reappeared.

"Thank you, sir. You gentlemen have a nice night."

"We will, thanks," Blair smiled. He pulled the long table cloth to one side and said quietly, "Shamus, stand."

The furry head and long torso of a golden retriever appeared as Shamus stood up and took the opportunity to stretch. His tail wagged as Blair reached for the handle attached to his harness, causing Jim to jump forward to save Blair's delicate crystal water glass.

"Dog's a menace," he growled, rescuing a second glass as his voice caused Shamus' tail to wag even harder.

"Yeah, but you love him, anyway," Blair laughed. "Forward, Shamus."

Jim snorted at his lover's back as the retriever skillfully led him through the many tables and obstacles between them and the exit. "Hollow stomach on legs," he muttered, "but, yeah, he's family."

He followed the pair through the restaurant, trying once more to come up with a way to prevent a curious retriever with a cold nose from investigating odd noises coming from a loft bedroom that had no door.