widowshill | one more cup of coffee for the road

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one more cup of coffee for the road | (coops)

There are certain perks to having someone else's wallet.

Not the money that might be stored in there; in all honestly, Belle hasn't even touched it. It could be three dollars or fifty for all she knows. No, it's more along the lines of identification. Contact information. The telephone number of a certain Special Agent Dale Cooper. That sort of thing.

Truthfully, her father and his connections could have likely had it back to him the same evening that he dropped it, if she'd told him. Or even handed it to one of the other guards working that evening. But Belle had decided to take matters into her own hands regarding this, call him up herself, completely innocuously arrange a meeting.

She hadn't been expecting breakfast, necessarily, but it's not something she's going to complain about. And she waits patiently outside, just as planned, wallet tucked safely into the purse that she has slung over her shoulder. She's not going to be the one to lose it.

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"I happen to prefer it this way," she replies, taking on a fake haughtiness as she reaches out, and, in an oh-so-daring move, moves his wrist (and therefore the fork, as that's actually what she was going for), away. Eyes on your own food, Cooper.

The syrup is, in fact, more or less drenching everything she ordered (apart from the fruit cup, thankfully. Belle doesn't quite know how she'd feel about that. It'd be almost like maple syrup and ice cream. Which would be bizarre.), and that's completely okay. But she takes a break for a moment, fork stabbing a piece of melon as she regards him for a moment. Popping it into her mouth, she reaches over for the pot of syrup again, almost brandishing it.

"After all, you don't see me saying that you don't have enough."

Whoa whoa whoa. Excuse you. Cooper looks positively scandalized when Belle swats at his hand. He puts both of his hands up in front of himself as if saying it's all good - don't worry about it.

"I believe I've poured enough syrup on my pancakes. But I value your professional opinion."

Belle isn't actually sure whether he's legitimately offended or not.

So she sits there for perhaps a beat too long, pot of syrup "threateningly" lifted between them, trying to figure it out. Until she puts it back down and busies herself with wiping her hands with the napkin in her lap.

"Well. As long as you know that the offer still stands." And that's a resolute nod before she decisively picks up her fork again.

Cooper doesn't dare remove his eyes from the threatening maple syrup. He silently wills her to put the damn thing down. Too much syrup would be a travesty.

Then she sets it back down on the table, and he visibly exhales the breath he'd been holding.

Thank goodness for that.

He just goes back to eating his perfect pancakes, okay.

Alright, lesson quickly learned: nothing comes between Dale Cooper and his breakfast routine, not even a tiny rich woman. Good to know. Filed away for future reference.

But without any input from him other than an incredibly relieved sigh, she's still ever-so-slightly wary that he was more serious than expected. So her fork dances around her plate (through the syrup because that's the best part whatever whatever), and then comes a somewhat hesitant, "Sorry," from Belle across the table. Just in case.

"For what?" he replies, mouth full of pancake. Obviously his manners escape him at this moment.

But he doesn't like seeing her look like that. Uneasy. Upset?

"I thought -"

Oh. Okay. Still, apologies are good precautions. Especially since she wouldn't want to ruin this so early in the game.

"You were joking, weren't you?"

He chews and swallows, and then there's a mischievous smile. Of course he was joking.

"Was only playing," he says, grabbing a spare napkin to wipe at his mouth. Damn syrup. "You were getting pretty upset there. Sorry."

"I wasn't that upset." A rather pointed bite of pancake, even though it's mostly a cover. Maybe she was a bit more frantic than she wants to let on. She uses her napkin to cover her mouth while she talks and it becomes fairly obvious that they're the most polite people to ever grace this diner. They should feel proud. "I wanted to make sure you weren't upset. Wouldn't want to be rude."

See? Look at those aforementioned manners.

"Such a fine young lady," he replies, chuckling. He crumples up his used napkin and drops it on the empty side of the table before picking up his coffee mug for a sip. "I don't upset easily. Don't worry about it. You'll come to find I'm a pretty easy-going guy."

"On just one outing?" Belle asks - mostly before she can stop herself, though there's not much reason why she would try to, once she actually stops to think about it. "Let's hope you prove that discovery fairly quickly, then."

And then she grins and her pancakes are half gone, so it's time to try to salvage the bacon from the ocean of syrup.

"I haven't already? Darn."

He chomps on a piece of bacon.

"It has been less than an hour," she comments as she does the same, complete with a slight shrug. "I'm willing to give at least a little more time before I make that judgment."

"I'll be on my best behavior until then," he replies, giving her a solemn nod. Then it's back to that bacon. And more pancakes. The ones that aren't drenched in excessive amounts of maple syrup.

For the last time, it's not excessive, it's perfect, and she's sorry that he can't see the light.

"You could be doing a lot worse, frankly," Belle says, considering it. But honestly, it just brings to mind all of the idiots her father's tried to set her up with and it's just nice to have control over that, for once. "I don't think you've got much to worry about."

"D'you think you'd want to get breakfast with me some other time?" he asks, his tone quite nonchalant while he cuts up some pancakes. Note, he doesn't look up at her while he does so. Just waits for the reaction.

"You seem like a morning person," is all Belle says in reply at first. He doesn't look up and she doesn't give him a straight answer right away, pausing to take a drink of her tea. She doesn't show it, but the question has her ever-so-slightly giddy. And knocked off of her guard. Seriously, it's that easy? Drink too much iced tea and threaten to drown his food with syrup and she's already securing a second date?

I mean, he is paying. It is a date, right? The answer might be yes, but she'll figure that part out later.

"I'd love to."

He's a reasonable guy.

"Really?" He drops his silverware, and they hit the plate with a clang. "You'd like to get breakfast again?" He looks so excited. Like he can barely contain himself. Because the prospect of getting more food when he hasn't even finished what he has in front of him is amazing. Oh - and he'll be spending time with a very pretty girl. Yes, that's good too.

"Is that surprising?" Belle asks, ducking her head slightly in a disbelieving look. Did her reaction really warrant such surprise and utensil-dropping? Does he just - drop things? Is that a habit? At least it wasn't his wallet this time.

But then she nods, confirming. "Yes," she says, "I would. Or dinner, even. Wouldn't say no to that, either."

"Dinner?" Things are getting pretty serious. Because don't you know, a person can have breakfast at any time of the day they wish. "I can definitely arrange that, yes. When are you free next?"

Well, to be perfectly honest, he might be attractive and amusing, but maybe things should progress to something beyond wars over syrup. There's a method to Belle's madness, here. Or - progress. Progress, madness. Same thing, right?

Belle frowns slightly as she thinks the question over. She doesn't have a planner or anything of the sort with her, just a vague memory of meetings she's supposed to attend, luncheons, just being seen, and -

"I normally don't have much to do on weekends," she says. It's kind of a lie. She's sure there's something. But she'll get out of it. "Which day's best?"

"Whichever day is best for you," he replies, "You'll find I'm pretty flexible."

He pours himself a fresh cup of coffee. "Although I like the sound of Friday. If you want me to be more decisive."

Then he takes a sip.

"And if I say Saturday, instead?" Belle asks - partially just to be contrary, honestly. Gotta get a little of that in, every once in a while. "That might work better." And she takes another bite of her remaining pancakes while she waits for an answer.

"Saturday's fine too," he replies with a shrug. Cooper is easy to please. Not fussy when it comes to plan-making. He just rolls with it.

Besides, he'd rather pick a day that's more convenient for her okay. It's the gentlemanly thing to do.

Belle beams, taking a drink of her tea and then sealing it with a decisive nod. "Good. Saturday it is."

She almost wonders if she should shake his hand to make it official, but - no, Belle, don't be stupid. That's silly.

one more cup of coffee for the road | (coops)

i tried to get in a shot at your denny's sundae but then i couldn't find anywhere for bacon so.

rude.

you need to go back and see if that guy will make you another one.

i do.

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i s2g the worst fights these two will ever have... will be manner-related. or "omg r u upset??"

at least until she puts sugar in his coffee just to see and he feels betrayed for a week.

b e t r a y e d.

w/ever it's happening you can't stop it.

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