world's most inappropriate date spot.

Erich

Sunday night is a weird night for dates. But then, Melantha works at a bar, so Friday nights and Saturday nights are usually worknights for her. Erich doesn't work at all! Unless one counts patrolling the area around Cold Crescent, of course. And at any rate: KFC is a weird place to go for a date.

That's where they go, though. Erich drives his truck, the tinyhouse unhitched and left on that quiet little cul-de-sac up in Evergreen. Look, he's even dressed up for the occasion: he's wearing his newest, nicest pair of jeans, and his shirt is buttondown.

"You have to try to doubledown, okay?" That's what he's saying as they pull up in front of Colonel Sanders'. "That's the whole point of coming here." And he kills the engine. And he hops out, and thumps the door shut, and comes around to the other side to let Melantha out.

And also: reaches into the bed of the truck to fish out a bedraggled, windblown, handpicked and hand-tied bunch of wildflowers. Because date. And also because springtime.

Melantha

Friday nights and Saturday nights are almost always worknights for Melantha. Sunday nights she almost never works, because they almost always give her those Friday and Saturday nights and she makes lots of tips and never really needs those days off anyway. She saves a lot. She wants to build a tinyhouse before it gets too hot to bear the work. She wants to build a tinyhouse and make it light and comfortable and airy and pretty and her own. Her very own.

Erich doesn't have anywhere to pick her up from. They're getting ready at the same time, in the same place. There's no reveal to. Melantha wears a little skirt, knee-length, soft, heather-gray. She wears a blue shirt with it, just a t-shirt with a wide v-neck, and a pair of flats. Her hair is actually tied up, in a high ponytail because it's quite muggy today, even as evening falls.

They drive all the way down to Littleton for a KFC, and Melantha wasn't exactly expecting one of the nicest restaurants in Colorado but she's working really hard to hide the wtf look in her eyes when Erich parks.

The two of them don't really 'date'. They almost always stay in, even back when they were in D.C. Neither of them have ever dressed up for each other or anything. But he said date, and he was dressing up, and so she put on a skirt, and he opens the car door for her and hands her a wonky little bunch of flowers he got from up in Evergreen.

Melantha is charmed. By the flowers, and Erich Dressing Up, and his earnestness and excitement. And takes them as she steps down from the truck to him, smiling a little. "Maybe I'll just get corn and biscuits," she says lightly, taking his hand.

Erich

Erich is aghast. Erich would be aghast, at least, except Melantha is taking his hand and she looks charmed by the wonky flowers and he thinks she looks so pretty in her little skirt and her blue shirt and her ponytail.

So he gives her hand a squeeze. And then he sort of tugs her a gentle step forward and slides his arm around her waist and gives her a squeeze instead. He feels utterly solid, a wall of muscle and meat. She feels --

well; soft. And she smells good. And he kisses her where he can reach her and then they slide apart and he finds he is still holding her hand and when you go on a date you go get food first, Erich. "Well, you should at least try a bite of my doubledown," he bargains, and they walk toward the little KFC with its distinctive red-trimmed building.

Melantha

That kiss lands on the top of her head; in flats, especially, he's quite a bit taller than she is. Hell: even in the highest heels with their thick platforms that Celia de Luca would wear, he was quite a bit taller. She squeezes her arm around his waist, holding the flowers in her other hand, walking alongside him into the KFC.

He bargains that she should try some of his, and she makes a little face, nose wrinkled up. "I think I'll be okay," she tells him, with a touch of amusement.

Erich

Erich is like: !

"They're gonna stop making them soon, you know! And then who knows when they'll make them again? Man, the very thought makes me all sad." They're at the door. He opens it for her: such a gentleman. "But all right. Whatever! Have corn and biscuits. I'll eat like three doubledowns to make up for it."

He pauses a moment, scans the inside of the -- can we call it a restaurant, even? The inside of the KFC, then. Erich points at an empty corner booth: "Oh, let's take that one. It's the best. Want me to go order and bring it over?"

Melantha

Melantha slips her arm away from his waist as he opens the door, walking through it just ahead of him. He tells her -- for the third time -- that omg she really should have one of those things, and she's turning to him to maybe, just maybe, start telling him to back off a little, but he does. He says he's going to have three of those things instead.

Quietly, Melantha lets him point out a booth, and looks up at him, and nods. "Sure," she says. "Would you get me some water, and corn on the cob, and a couple of biscuits?"

Erich

So they divide to conquer. She goes to claim the booth, hold down the fort; he goes to order. She can see him across the KFC: standing patiently in line staring up at the menu even though he knows exactly what he's getting. Getting to the front of the line. Ordering, laying his palms thoughtlessly on the counter, making the unfortunate clerk lean backwards to put a little distance between them. Standing about, then, arms folded, occasionally turning to glance over his shoulder at Melantha as though to check if she's still there or not. She is. He smiles at her and waves. Then they call his number,

and then he's coming back toward her, a red plastic tray in hand, three doubledowns and a large coke sitting next to corn on the cob, two biscuits, and an uncapped cup of water.

He looks sort of proud as he divvies up the spoils. Though there's plenty of room across the table, he scoots in next to her, taking a slurp of his soda before unwrapping the first of his doubledowns. "Yay," he says, all quiet and happy, before sinking his teeth in. Because meat. Meat meat meat meat meat.

Melantha

Of course Melantha is there, Erich. Sitting in the booth with her ponytail, looking at something on her phone, when he looks over to make sure she's still there. His gaze is heavy, and she glances up, smiling at him. He waves. She laughs to herself, and soon enough he's bringing over their dinner, even though hers is a couple of sides and water and his is... well.

MEAT MEAT MEAT MEAT MEAT MEAT MEAT.

And Coke.

Instead of sitting across from her, though, Erich scoots in beside her, and Melantha makes some room. He digs in, and she puts her phone away and starts eating her corn. And biscuits.

Erich

If this were a First Date, this would officially be an Awkward Silence. Fortunately, this isn't a first date for them. It's not a first anything. They've eaten out together at plenty of places. Most of them fast food places. Have they ever gone anywhere nice? Well; the paleo cafe sort of counts. Maybe he should take her someplace nice someday.

That's what Erich's thinking as he munches his way through the first doubledown. And he does, in fact, eat the entire damn thing before he talks again. When it's gone, and when he's sucked and/or wiped the crumbs and sauce clean from his fingers, he takes a big slurp of Coke and sits back. Drapes his arm along the back of the booth.

"Have we ever been on a date before?" he wonders.

Melantha

In some ways, though, it is a first date. Sort of. And maybe Erich doesn't think of it that way, but... he asked for a date. And then dressed up, and she dressed up, and he brought flowers and it's not exactly like anything they've done before, this sort of planned-out thing, not picking her up from work and seeing if she wanted to grab coffee or calling her from Denver seeing if she'd want to come down or sitting in Cold Crescent together, or maybe Melantha is just seeing it differently, because it feels different, and it actually does -- at least for one of them -- feel pretty awkward. And silent.

She eats slowly, in part because -- to be honest -- she finds the very smell of this place unappetizing, and even the corn on the cob seems a little bizarre to her, like it's maybe not quite real, and she hasn't touched the biscuits yet. She mostly drinks water.

Erich demolishes his first double-down, leaving the other two stacked nearby, and then slides his arm behind her, sort of around her, and asks if they've been on a date.

"Sort of," she answers, after a moment of thought. "I guess."

Erich

"But not really like this," he adds, like his thoughts are an afterthought to hers. He quiet for a little bit longer. They have quite the view: rows of booths, a family of four making their way through a bucket of chicken. Kentucky Fried Life.

"I kinda like it." He looks at her. "Do you?"

Melantha

Not really like this. And her foot bumps against his under the table, unintentionally. Stays there, intentionally.

"Like what?" Melantha asks him, looking past the curve of her shoulder to him. "KFC?"

Erich

"Nooo." He bumps her back. It'd be a shoulder bump except his arm is up, so it's more like a side-of-chest bump. Or an armpit bump except that sounds pretty ew. "Going on a date. With you. But not like... all full of pressure and expectations and stuff. Just having a night where it's like, okay, we are gonna wear nice clothes,"

he considers these nice clothes; not just what he's wearing but also what she's wearing, never mind that she's been Celia de Luca and a dozen other girls, worn any number of thousand-dollar outfits and designer heels,

"and go out and have dinner somewhere. And then we'll go take a walk somewhere nice and, I dunno. Maybe go bowling or dancing or something. I like it. You know it's prom season? We should crash a prom next weekend, I bet we could find one."

Melantha

She smiles at his description of a date-date. Where they dress up and go out and have dinner and take a walk and I-dunno-something. But her head tips, as she leans back, nestling into his arm and side a bit. "What kind of pressure and expectations do you mean?" she wants to know, going backward a bit.

Erich

"You know. Like. Date pressures and expectations. Is he going to be on time? Is she going to look pretty? Are we going somewhere nice? Is he gonna pay? Is she gonna -- y'know. Put out? All that crap.

"We don't have that. 'Cause we already know each other. But we can still go on a date and ... it's nice."

Melantha

"Well, if you weren't on time, I'd think maybe something happened and then the date isn't something I'm worried about," she says first, sliding her arms around his waist. "And I always look pretty," which she says with a faint smirk, "and I don't care who pays for what," which is true, "and I think we're doing pretty good work on not feeling pressured about sex or making me feel weird about it."

She does not mention the going-someplace-nice, but she hits all the other bases. She is hugging him, and smiling a little, leaning her head on his shoulder. "It does feel a little awkward," she admits, "even though we already know each other and everything."

Erich

Erich gets hugged. This is good. It makes him happy. That's the whole point of putting his arm up like that: it clears her path, gives her access. Lets her get in close, close where an animal would only let his most trusted friends and family. She puts her arms around his waist and he drops his arm around her shoulders.

Laughs when she says she always looks pretty. Bumps his nose against her hair as she leans her head on his shoulder.

"If it's too awkward," he says softly, "we can stop having a date. This can just be normal dinner-out. I'll even roll up my shirt sleeves," he grins suddenly, devilish, "and stop holding in my farts."

Melantha

Melantha doesn't grin at his joke about farts, because ew, Erich and she even gives him that nose-wrinkled look again. "No, I... do kind of like the whole 'date' thing. With you." Obviously you, Erich.

And that is when she is SO OBVIOUSLY NOT SAYING SOMETHING THAT IT'S REALLY DUMB, and takes a breath to just say it instead of making him ask:

"I just... would kind of like to go somewhere nice. Not every time we get food together. But if we're going to dress up or make a whole 'date' thing out of it... I would kind of like to go somewhere nice. And where I like the food," she ends quietly, which is -- however gently spoken -- still an indictment of KFC, Erich? Ew, really?

Erich

"Oh." Erich's crest falls so visibly you'd see it from across the room. "We can go somewhere else. Let's go somewhere else. I'm sorry. I just brought you here 'cause doubledowns are like one of my favorite foods ever and that's why I really wanted you to try one but then I could tell you were starting to feel kinda pressured and that's why I stopped.

"Let's go somewhere else." He starts packing up. Because: he's still going to take those other two doubledowns with him, obviously.

Melantha

They are both emotional, emotive creatures. They are passionate. Melantha's anger, when roused, is a terrifying thing. She cries at the drop of a hat. One of the hardest things about leaving D.C. and coming here and everything she's been through is how much it dampened some of her passions, made it harder for her to submit to herself, to nature, to wildness.

Erich wears his heart on his sleeve. His rage, his adoration for her, his love of Charlotte, his frustrations, his self-doubt: it all has a place on his face, in his eyes, in the way he speaks. Of course he gets sad, very sad, when he picks up that Melantha doesn't like it here. It makes sense to get sad, and to feel bad, and for his crest to fall.

She feels bad anyway. She looks bummed out because he's so sad. And he says they'll go somewhere else like three times and he's babbling and Melantha doesn't let go of him, still hugging him around the waist. "Hey, slow down," she says quietly, soothingly. "Don't freak out. I may not like the food here but I still like you."

Erich

Melantha hanging on to him manages to slow Erich down. He pauses in his almost-frantic packing; pauses and looks at her and exhales, shoulders relaxing.

"I know," he says quietly. And he slides his arm around her again; gives her a squeeze. "Thanks for reminding me. But let's go somewhere else, kay? Somewhere you like."

Melantha

He goes from 0 to Frantic pretty quickly. It doesn't surprise her anymore. She just hugs him, like he's running and if she just digs in her heels and grabs a hold, he'll be unable to get the forward momentum necessary to go totally nuts. And it works, proving that love is greater than physics yet again. He settles. He touches her instead, calms a bit.

Melantha smiles. "Let's stay," she says. "Eat your totally gross meat sandwiches. Then we'll go get some ice cream, and take a walk, and when we get back home I'll make something for me. And some other night, I'll take you on a dress-up date and we'll go somewhere I like, and hopefully you'll like it, and we'll just... keep practicing, until every time we go on a dress-up date it's completely awesome."

Erich

He resettles. Slowly, little by little, he goes from Frantic back to 0. The way she treats him helps. The way she holds on to him, and reminds him that she likes him, and reminds him that he didn't mess it all up forever onoz: it helps.

The gentle little joke helps too. He responds: "They're not gross," protesting, unwrapping the second of three. He's not going to eat all three. Even he would throw up. But two: yeah, he's gonna eat two. "They're the best sandwiches ever made."

And, sinking his teeth in, tearing off a great big bite of meatmeatmeatmeatmeat, he leans back in the booth again.

"I'll make you an omelette if you want when we get home. With spinach and mushrooms and stuff. It'll be really healthy and not all-meat at all. But if you wanna take me on a real dress-up date next time you have to give me some advance warning so I can go buy a tie."

Melantha

"They're totally gross, and I bet all fast food places are owned by the Enemy," she says, and she's only half kidding, but the truth is she's kind of worried about him eating three of those things. But she doesn't push on that one too much. He digs into his second doubledown and she holds him, leaning back just a bit so no stray specks of food hit her face or hair.

Not that Erich is a sloppy eater. Just. Um. Anyway, moving on.

"It's okay," she laughs. "I can make something at home. And I like meat. And I don't think I'll take you any place worth wearing a tie for, unless you just really want to wear a tie." Her hand rubs his back. "I'll think of something nice," she says, smiling. Then she leans up, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek when he's finished with one bite, closing her eyes against his temple for a moment.

Erich

"I wanna wear a tie for you someday," he says, mouth full. "You can wear a skirt and I can wear a tie. I think we'd look good."

She kisses his cheek. He closes his eyes too, comforted and adoring, and so they close their eyes together for a little one, leaning into that touch like animals.

"I know you will," he says.