phaselocknroll | Shenanigans!

[ A certain Peter Quill has been anxiously awaiting for seven p.m. on Saturday to roll around -- and has been for the past several days, even. His housemates wouldn't let him hear the end of it, really, constantly making kissing noises whenever he had occasion to enter or leave the main room (and he regrets telling them about the awesome night where he and "the hot chick from the bookstore" finally talked.

"It's about friggin' time," one of them said. "If I had to see you come home one more time makin' that stupid face doin' that stupid sigh, I was seriously gonna blow up your room.")

The waiting, though, proves to be the worst part -- mostly because in the interim, he's had time to think of the myriad ways everything could go wrong. He could find out that she's, like, crazy smart -- which is highly likely. But, like, so smart that he'd never be able to keep up, and then she'd get so bored, and he'd be like, "So. Uh. TV is cool, right?" And she'd sigh and say she was feeling sick or something, and before he could even say goodbye, she'd slam her door in his face.

Or he could say something super rude or inconsiderate, and she'd get super offended and toss a drink in his face and storm off, and he'd be there, water dripping off his chin, mortified and red from embarrassment. Or he could make a move too fast, like he tends to do, send the wrong signal and then it's just another one of his one-night stands all over again. (Because Peter's shitty at relationships, and a single shared night and goodbyes in the morning has been the extent of his romantic life for a while now, honestly. The one long-term relationship he had ended in tears and voodoo hexes, so suffice it to say, Peter's not great at the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing.)

He's still thinking of every disastrous scenario when one of his roommates peeks into his bedroom, frowning.

"You are aware it's past six-thirty?"

Oh, fuck.

The next fifteen is a mad scramble to get ready -- and at least one of his housemates is nice enough to pick out an outfit for him. ("Anything you would have chosen would've been unacceptable," she told him when he thanked her profusely. "You're a slob, Peter Quill.") After that, it's a mad dash to Maya's apartment, and he makes it there with only moments to spare.

It's as he's knocking on her door that he suddenly realizes he forgot flowers. Shit. ]

[ Despite her remark that her roommate was usually off with her boyfriend, she had been home the night Maya had come in after Peter had walked her home, and she'd grilled Maya thoroughly about the cute guy who is at the bookstore all the time. (The conversation had concluded with Maya begging Lilith not to be home Saturday night. Lilith gave her no end of shit about it, but agreed.)

Maya realizes on the Friday before that she has no idea how she's supposed to dress. Is this a fancy date? He mentioned a movie, and those usually aren't too fancy, right? After tearing her closets apart (and then Lilith's closet and then back to her own), she settles on something that could go either way- a plain yellow sundress and a jean jacket. The crop showed off her tattoos well, she thought.

It's just as well for Peter that Maya wasn't expecting flowers. When she opens the door, she finds herself staring, just a little, because holy shit. ]

Hey.

[ Good job, Maya. ]

[ He's just catching his breath when the door opens, and he attempts valiantly to look casual. ]

Hey.

[ Nailed it.

He clears his throat -- yep, she's still as hot as before -- and flashes her a smile. ]

I, uh-- [ Oh god, date things. What do normal people say? ] You look great.

So do you.

[ No, really. Like goddamn.

She clears her throat. ] Should we get going?

Sure, yeah, if you're ready. [ He steps aside, making room for her. ]

So I have, like, no idea what's out right now, but I figure we just pick the one with the biggest explosion on the poster and go from there.

[ She exits the apartment, locking the door behind her. ]

You really are a man after my own heart. [ she offers him a smile ] I did hear there's a new sci-fi movie out that's terrible, but in the best possible way.

That's pretty tempting. I do like terrible movies. [ he takes a moment to think it over, then, ] That the one you wanna see, then?

Whatever you like. I'll let you surprise me.

Fifty Shades of Grey it is, then.

You had best be joking or this date is over right now.

[ His hands immediately go up, but he's laughing a little. ]

Joking. Totally joking.

Not a fan, I'm guessing?

I have a whole tirade about that stupid series, but you probably don't want to hear it.

Maybe later in the night.

-- I'm glad you shot that down, though. I have no idea what I would've said if you were up for it.

"Oh no, look at the time I think I left a pie in the oven"?

[ He laughs again. ]

Huh, alright. Definitely using that for next time.

[ She's learning that she likes to hear him laugh, and she grins ]

I am a master of non-awkward ways to get out of uncomfortable situations.

And, apparently, someone who thinks I'm the kinda person who bakes pies. Which is kinda flattering, seeing as how the best thing I can do in a kitchen is boil water.

Join the club. I'm shit a baking, but I can make a mean salad, let me tell you.

Yeah? And I can heat up bread. That's, like, half an actual meal, right there.

Hmm. How are your sandwich skills?

Decent. It's pretty nuts, the way I can spread peanut butter.

Ignoring the pun, I think if we really had to, we could make an actual lunch.

[ His smile spreads slowly. ]

We already figuring out date number two? We've barely even started our first one.

Goodness no. Peanut butter sandwiches should be reserved for third dates or later, for sure.

[ He grins at that. ]

Oh, wow, I had no idea you were that old fashioned. When do we introduce jelly? Like, five months from now?

oh the mundanity

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