Work Text:
A Memorable First Date
by IrenaAdler
She was too smart for him, he could tell right away. Alan Eppes was no slouch, but he doubted his Engineering major and knowledge of pro sports would impress Margaret Mann. She was a double major in Pre-Law and Music who could debate Ho Chi Minh and Kurt Vonnegut with equal ease. Alan was more able to talk about surfing waves than French New Wave cinema. But Margaret wasn't an intellectual snob. She argued with equal enthusiasm about Jimi Hendrix and Dr. Seuss as about Andy Warhol and Martin Luther King, Jr. Margaret was always in the center of such conversations where Alan would hang about the periphery, adding the rare thought but more listening and enjoying Margaret's quick, sensible mind. She wasn't the most beautiful woman in the loose group of friends that they both were part of, but her energy and warmth drew Alan's eyes again and again. And she was definitely attractive. He wondered if he would ever get the nerve to ask her out.
He was too nice for her, she could tell right away. Margaret Mann felt like she only attracted bad boys, dangerous types who were more interested in destruction than peaceful revolution. Alan Eppes, though, was a gentleman and a gentle man. They may have met on opposite sides of an issue – she'd been working for a tenants' rights organization and he for a housing developer – but he'd been easy to talk to and had helped her see a different side of the argument. While they agreed to disagree on that topic, she began to notice him at parties and protest meetings. He tended to stay on the edges of such gatherings, encouraging the shy and the uncertain. Where Margaret was a driver, an organizer, Alan seemed happy to take a backseat, be quietly but effectively supportive. He intrigued her even more when he carried a sign in a protest, stating `Make Love Not Poison,' but was courteous to the employees of the chemical company they were picketing. He carved paths in the unruly crowd for frightened secretaries, held the door open for a pro-war Hawk loaded down with a pile of American flags. The only time she saw him angry was when another protester threw a rock through an office window, coming perilously close to the man at the desk. She noticed his eyes on her many times and wondered if he would ever get the nerve to ask her out.
Alan did finally ask Margaret out, and their first date was a disaster – a near fatal disaster. He arrived late to pick her up, covered with grease and sweat from changing a flat tire on his VW bus. He apologized and cleaned up in her bathroom. They were too late for the movie they planned to see and ended up watching a horror flick that appealed to neither of them. Afterwards, he took her to a cheap Italian restaurant that was all he could afford. The cook wasn't careful and shellfish oil got into Margaret's fettuccini alfredo. Her throat began to close up and Alan raced her to the emergency room. There she got painful shots, her stomach pumped, and was admitted to the hospital.
Margaret opened her eyes blearily, and was relieved to see the ceiling above her stay steady. She simply breathed for a moment, enjoying the easy passage of air from her lungs to her lips.
"Hi," said a quiet voice from her right. "How are you feeling?"
Margaret turned her head slowly to see a tired and disheveled Alan Eppes. She swallowed a few times against her tender throat. Alan jumped up and brought her a glass of water. She took several careful sips before she handed the glass back. A clock on the wall told her she'd been out most of the night. "Okay," she responded at last.
"Good!" Alan said and puffed out a long breath. "You scared me there."
"Scared me, too," Margaret said, attempting to smile.
It must have looked more like a grimace because Alan quickly said, "If I'd known you were allergic to shellfish, I would have cooked."
"Thought I was safe with alfredo," Margaret murmured. "I usually just get hives, anyway."
"I called your mother," Alan said. "I'm supposed to call her back when you wake up."
Margaret winced. She could only imagine how fun that phone call had been. Then she blinked. "How did you …?"
"Her number was in your address book, hope you don't mind that I got into your purse. The doctors were asking me all sorts of questions and I didn't know, so I found your mother's number and called her."
Margaret nodded. Both practical and brave.
Alan sat down in a chair that had been pulled up next to the bed. He looked like he'd spent the night in that chair. He rubbed his face and ran his hand through his thick black hair. He wasn't a terribly attractive man, but she'd gone out with pretty boys and discovered how little that mattered.
"Some first date," Alan said wryly.
"At least it was memorable," Margaret replied.
"Like the sinking of the Titanic."
Margaret chuckled, though it hurt her throat. "We both survived. Though if the life raft is your VW, we're in serious trouble."
Alan laughed, and his rich laugh filled the room and sent shivers up Margaret's spine. When he laughed, she forgot that she didn't think him attractive.
They looked at each other for a moment, then Alan said, "I really should go call your mom now."
"Okay, use the phone here and I'll talk to her, too," Margaret said, waving to a phone on the table next to her hospital bed.
Alan nodded and got to his feet. He swayed slightly and Margaret was reminded that he probably hadn't slept all night. He shook himself, blinking rapidly, then went around the end of the bed to the phone. Alan flipped open her battered address book and dialed. He cleared his throat then said, "Hello, Mrs. Mann? Margaret's awake now and doing much better."
Margaret listened with half an ear as Alan responded to her mother's interrogation. He answered what were probably pointed questions calmly and respectfully. He apologized for what he was responsible for and no more. It took strength to not wilt under the protective and opinionated barrage that was her mother's usual reaction to crises. So he's nice but not a pushover.
Alan said, "Here she is," and held the phone out to Margaret.
Margaret was overwhelmed by the urge to take the phone and tell her mom that she'd just been talking to her future son-in-law, but didn't want to scare Alan. Not that her mom would be totally surprised to be told she'd decided this after one date. All her life, Margaret had known what she wanted and had gone after it. Now she wanted Alan Eppes, and not just in a short-term lust fashion, though his hands had her thinking all sorts of naughty thoughts. She'd never believed in love at first sight, and wasn't sure yet she did, but this disastrous date, more than a picture perfect one, had shown her exactly what sort of man Alan Eppes was. He was a keeper.
She took the phone. "Hey Mom," she said, then smiled at Alan. "I just had the best first date."
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