To Sir With Love

She had this incessant need to keep flattening her dress over her middle, her palm grazing the soft bump before she was moving back to top to start again. Even once she had been seated at a table, folding her legs under the table clothe, she couldn't help but go back to her smoothing. Vera wasn't entirely sure if she was doing it for the contact, to take attention away from the bump she knew lingered there, or draw it towards it. Maybe it was some how a bit of all there.

Even long after she had been sitting there, orders already put in, and conversation being passed lightly back and forth her hand would not stop its constant petting. She wasn't entirely sure how she planned to eat, if she could not convince herself to stop.

A distraction, however, was served to her not a moment later. Though whether it was a distraction that anyone preferred to have was questionable.

"Can I offer you any thing to drink this evening," the waiter asks, as food was placed upon the table. "You know, we have a lovely wine selection that would go lovely-"

"I do not recall asking for alcohol this evening," Vera's eyes narrowed dangerously and she snapped without warning. The contradiction of what he usual response would be and what she had to say causing her to be irrationally troublesome, "If I wished to poison myself, I will certainly let you know."

There was a brief pause, and then she smiled, although the expression was not any lighter than the one she had been giving the startled waiter before.

"Water will be fine. Thank you."

Brock's gaze flickered over her, even as he continued to eat the fancy whatever-he'd-ordered-while-pretending-not-to-be-watching-her. It didn't taste too bad, he decided, but as a chef he would have used different ingredients, not this expensive, half quality stuff.

Running his hand through his hair, he glanced up at the waiter, opening his mouth to answer before Vera jumped ahead of him, showing on of her lovely side effects of growing a person inside her; random mood swings. Giving a soft chuckle, the man grinned up at the waiter and winked. "Water for me too, please. With a lemon, not without." He gave the startled man a slight glare, but he was already gone, already down and across the room to bring them more of a drink.

Reaching across the table, Brock took Vera's hand, rubbing the back of hers soothingly with his thumb. "Now now, Volchitsu. Don't take it out on the staff." He grinned at her, not the least bit condenscendingly, more amused that anything else. "I think Scarlet makes you even more impatient than you were at birth." He teased lightly, raising her hand to his lips. Leaving a soft kiss there, he smiled, tugging slightly on the tie that was beginning to feel as if it were choking him. How dressed up were you supposed to be on dates anyway? The tuxido vest and dress pants/shirt combo he was wearing looked good in a way that let him show his style, but that didn't mean he had to like it. It felt like he was being robbed of air.

Or perhaps that was just the feeling of Vera's hand in his own.

"You know..." He mused lightly, eyes sweeping her. Whatever joke he was going to make was lost as he actually looked at her, bringing her hand to his cheek and nuzzling into it slightly. Her scent sped his heartbeat, and the feeling of her soft skin against his cheek caused an almost purr to reverate through his chest, just below being audible. "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

"I'm not taking anything out on the staff," Vera sniffed, her hand in his distracting enough to get her to lower her voice from its usual irritated level, however it did not erase all the sudden bought of anger from her. "If the staff were more competent, then perhaps I wouldn't have to say anything."

Although the warmth of his lips on her skin did wonders to spread that same feeling though out the rest of her, softening the unexplainable grump that had captured her mind, it did not save the man from receiving his own narrowed glare, though there was a little more warmth, light behind the blue gaze, "Scarlet has done nothing. And I'm not impatient. I'm... opinionated." Nodding her head as if this was a perfectly logical substitution, she ignored the waiter as he returned with their drinks - probably much to his relief - and took a sip of her drink. Once he was gone she continued, catching him fiddling with his tie, "If you don't like the thing, just take it off." The answer seemed completely obvious to her. Then, as if a switch was flicked in her brain, the last of her irritation disappeared completely, and grin, almost a smirk, wormed its way onto her features. "Of course, you look so good in it, I will be sad to see it go."

She leaned slightly as her hand was pulled up, her gaze softening completely at his sudden declaration. She blinked a couple of times, not entirely sure what her heart was doing with that information. It seemed to stutter, then speed up. Fidgeting in her seat slightly, she tilted her head to the side and grinned, "You've seen a lot of women Brockie. I don't really know if I'm quite special enough to be the 'most' beautiful. I'm pretty damn special, I know that, but 'most'. There must be someone I don't beat out."

"Of course not, dear." He said, his voice the very image of a peaceful husband. Sticking out his tongue, of course, made the picture much more Brock like. He grinned. "I suppose I can't blame Scarlet for your genetic pigheadedness either." Smirking, he pressed a kiss to her hand again, having officially claimed it for his own, seeing as he couldn't officially kiss anywhere else that he wanted to and still claim to be appropriate. Not the way he wanted to kiss anyway. Glancing up at her eyes, he gave her a look he couldn't quite keep all of the emotion out of, but he looked away just as quickly.

He paused in the tugging of his tie, much like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. A light flush came to his face, and he gave a half grin. "Which piece of clothing was that, eh?"

He frowned at her. "You beat out everyone." He said with absolute finality. "You always have, I was just way too... blind to see it." He shook his head and grinned. "Just accept it, okay? There's no arguing about this."

Narrowing her eyes only fleetingly, almost playful this time, she stuck out her own tongue. A sign that she had more or less been pacified, "Oh, no you can thank my charming mother for that one." Her tone was light on the surface, but there was an under current of displeasure that Vera couldn't remove no matter how many times she tried. Her mother was not a topic that she spoke of much, nor did she speak of her with any fondness. There was no love lost there. If they were going to continue this debate, then Vera would also say you could blame her mother for her impatience, but that would both mean admitting she is impatient, and speaking of her mother more. Neither thing, something she fancied doing.

Focusing on her food, she ate in silence until she caught his gaze, swallowing what was in her mouth, and melting slightly even as he was already looking away. She wiggled her hand in his, and gave a teasing grin, softened with affection, "I'm not getting this back, am I?"

"I think you can figure it out Brockie," she brushed her foot against his leg under the table, "The rest of the clothing you have on is actually more fun off. Though I think they people here frown upon such things."

Glancing down at her almost empty plate she grinned to herself, pale skin flushing with pleasure that was probably too great for the given situation. Her free hand went back to its comforting task of brushing over the bump that was her growing child. "But I'm so good at arguing."

Making a slight sound of neither disagreement nor agreement, Brock pressed another kiss to her hand, glancing up at her at her words. "All the cool kids had nannys anyway." He said dismissively, waving a hand. "We're the ones who turned out best anyway, right?" Offering a hopeful grin, he tried to cheer her up, thumb still rubbing lovingly across the back of her hand. Perhaps he should change the subject? He'd tried already, in any case.

Tilting his head away from her hand at its movement, he glanced at it, his gaze tracing its way up her arm and to her face. He gave a short laugh, the air on it sheepish, though he kept up his grin. "I-" His hold loosened slightly, before tightening once more. "Seem to be under the impression that if I let you go... you'll disappear."

Sitting up suddenly, straightening his spine and flushing, he shook his head. "I-" His voice squeaked slightly, and then he was clearing his throat, swallowing thickly. "Think I'll leave the tie on, thanks."

"I always win these arguments, however." He leaned forward slightly, trying to catch her eye. "Besides," He continued, pressing yet another kiss to her palm. "I won't be argued with this time."

The expression on her face began to morph from faux happy to an actually expression of that feeling, as she thought of her own nanny. The woman that had raised her had the dual task of sheltering her from her mothers moods as much as 'the hired help' could, while providing her with enough guidance to eventually mould herself into some semblance of a responsible of an adult. Not a complete one mind you, but to have achieved that would have been a stretch. Vera doubted Diane had ever had such expectations for her unruly ward.

"The best of the best," she murmured, eyes dancing slightly, most of her childhood pain forgotten.

The start she felt at the sheepish declaration wasn't noticeable on her features. Her hand which had tightened its hold when his had loosened, only tightened further in response to his similar action. "Where would I disappear to? In case you've forgotten, I don't want to be anywhere else."

Clicking her tongue, she only smirked, brushing her foot against his leg again if only because she enjoyed the reaction. She had always been a bit of a tease. It was something neither herself, Scarlet, or her nanny had ever or will ever be able to wash out of her.

"I never said I was good at winning, just at arguing," she smirked down at her plate before blinking up to meet his gaze. Oddly shy, and completely out of character, she struggled to fit the normal persona she put on, "Besides, you know how I love to do the opposite of what I'm told to do."

"Not yet." He murmured, resting her hand against his cheek and humming happily. Soon though, the tune of such humming slowed and stopped, and he was left staring down at his plate, playing with her fingers absentmindedly as his mind whirred inside his head. "You'll want to be somewhere else eventually, you know. Everyone does."

Deciding that maybe he should eat the food he was paying for, he lowered their joined hands to the table, choosing to eat with his less dominant hand rather than ask for her other one. He swallowed thickly as she teased him again, tensing as much as possible whilst trying to make it seem that he didn't tense at all. "Vera." He warned, his voice dropping without his permission. "I'm trying to be-" He bit his bottom lip and shook his head. He didn't want to tell her that he hadn't been on a date in a very long time, nor did he want to tell her how hard he was trying to make this date perfect for her birthday, and not being able to think when she did that was not going to help. His face flushed slightly at the thought, and he ran his free hand through his hair, shaking his head.

A small smirk grew on his lips, and he raised an eyebrow at her. "So if I told you to misbehave, really wanted you to, was really really hoping for some mindless behavior... would you feel the need to..." He pressed an open mouthed kiss to the sensitive skin on the back of her hand, shrugging. "Be good?"

Her eyes softened slightly, giving a contented hum of her own, before his stopped, and she too was attempting to follow his thoughts. There was some sort of pang in her chest as she could sense what he thought - a pang that grew when she wondered if she had contributed to it a bit as well, "Brock, in thirteen years, I have never wanted to be anywhere else. Even when I left, it- it wasn't because I didn't want to be here, it was because I did." The logic that drove her to leave wasn't very logical at all. There were no better words to describe it, so she gave up trying. "Brock, I've grown up with you around. Some of my actions have been completely childish, sometimes I didn't know what I wanted, but I can see now, with you was all I ever wanted. And I don't think even another thirteen years is going to change that."

Suspiciously eyeing the hand he had gone back to eating with, knowing that it wasn't his usual one, but not bothering to help, she went back to her own, plate, smiling to herself as she listened to his reaction, tempted to try again, but torn on the thought of whether she was being just a little too cruel.

She shivered slightly as the tables were turned on her. Worrying her own lip for a moment before she smirked herself.

"See, I think being asked to misbehave voids the need to misbehave by not doing it," she couldn't stop herself, her foot stuck out, and brushed again. "Don't you?"

"Thirteen more." He repeated, and before he could stop it, a smile - wide and genuine - spread across his lips. He could think of nothing, not war or his job or even Kallie that had ever made him as happy as the idea of being with Vera for thirteen more years did. The only thing that came close had his heart racing, and it was then that Brock Cox started to make a decision that would change everything about him. A decision that would effect everyone around him, and would change the course of his fate.

But not yet.

Licking his lips slowly, his eyes traced her lips, even as a jolt ran through his body, followed closely by a delicious shiver. "I wouldn't know." He murmured, voice dripping with saccharine emotion. "Never had to be asked to misbehave before."

His smile was doing something to her, causing a similar reaction crossing her face, trying to pick out the direction that his thoughts were going from the words and the expression that was on his face. The only thing she could get though was that it was something good - something that was good for him, and she hoped his thirteen years meant that she somehow had some involvement in the expression. Just that it was there would always be enough for her, it was just nice, on occasions to think that she might be the one to make it.

"Thirteen, who knows maybe I'll add another thirteen after that, and another after that - we'll see if you're tired after that." Thirty-nine years seemed almost inconceivable to her brain for anything. Though her grin, if anything widened at the thought. "I'll probably be all old and wrinkly by that time anyway. God forbid, I'll probably have grey hair." She let out a little gasp as if the thought horrified her, though it hardly bothered her at all.

"We-ell as being asked to misbehave, a lot," she paused a moment before a light came into her eyes and her smirk deepened with dark mischievousness, "And I mean a lot, that does in fact mean I don't have to behave at all."

"In fact," she dragged out the word slowly, foot running along his leg against, using her other hand to trace the vein along his arm slowly and with care, "I think it means, we even need to go home now because I really, really," her voice dipped lower and lower with each word and she brought his wrist up to press her lip against his wrist lingering slightly before suddenly she was as far back in her seat as possible, only their chastely entwined hands still together.

She pulled a delicate, and convincing yawn, even as her eyes continued to sparkle, "Need to go to sleep. Being pregnant just makes you so tired."

Vera found the waiter she had harped at only a few moments before, and grinned slightly.

"Check?"