In Your Eyes

12.

Ellen was giggling. Right now she was giggling because they were standing in the elevator at their hotel, and Patrick kept tickling her so she couldn't stand up straight. She wondered briefly what they would do if someone else wanted to take the elevator, but when Patrick stopped tickling her and started kissing her neck, she decided she didn't care. They would have to take the next elevator.

When they stopped at Patrick's floor, they both stumbeled out, breathless, making their way down the corridor. Ellen giggled again when Patrick's scruff tickled her neck. They weren't drunk, even if it looked like it. Ellen was just high on the New York night and Patrick, and she was pretty sure he felt the same way. She couldn't remember the last time she had been this happy.

"So, where are we going?" Ellen said. It was two hours after they had come home from the airport, and Patrick had told her to go and dress in her own room. Apparently, if they were going to do the date thing, they were going to do it right. She had gone up to her room and dressed, but then she had started harrassing him with text messages until he let her come down to him again. He still refused to let her see him, so her she was, sitting on his bed, while he was doing god-knows-what in the bathroom.

"I'm not telling," he said through the door. "It's against the first-date rules."

"You know, this is not a wedding. And you are, hopefully, not in a wedding dress"

"Ha, ha, very funny. Now go back to your own room so I can come get you."

"What?" Ellen couldn't help but giggle. "Why?"

She heard Patrick laugh through the bathroom door. "Because that's how this works. Go. Shoo. I'll be up in a minute."

"Fine." Ellen huffed. "Don't get lost on the way."

Patrick tried to open the door to the hotel room with his arms still wrapped around her, and finally succeeded. They both got in, spun around two times, before Patrick pinned her against the bathroom door. Ellen got up on her toes and managed to kiss the tip of his nose. He grinned lazily at her.

Ellen had barly gotten inside her own room before she heard a knock on the door. She smiled and turned around to open it.

"Good evening, miss Pompeo." A very well-moussed Patrick in a black tuxedo stood outside the door, smiling at her. Ellen gulped. He fitted riddiculously well in it. The whole man was practicly screaming sex. Although, judging by the way he was looking at her, the black dress she was wearing didn't leave him unaffected either. He reached out the hand he had been holding behind his back, giving her a bouquet of flowers.

"Oh," she breathed. "They're beautiful, Patrick."

He smiled again. "Like you, then. Shall we go?" He took her hand in his.

He had taken her to a play on a theatre located in Greenwich Village, obviously remembering the conversation they had had about how much they both loved the theathre, and then he had taken her out to a resturant, entertaining her the whole evening with crazy stories about how he used to preform in one of those theatres in New York when he was young, forgetting his lines and dropping his prop on the other actors feet.

"So," Patrick said, feeding her a bit of the frozen hot chocolate they were sharing, "Good date so far?"

Ellen moaned. "God, this tastes good. Best date I've ever been on."

Patrick winked at her "You think?"

He was looking at her lips. He was definitely looking at her lips. And she couldn't say anything, because she was looking at his lips too. He was a good kisser. He was a really good kisser. And those clothes he was wearing made her wonder what he would look like with no clothes at all.