xp_logs | Cecilia & Jean-Paul

xp-northstar.livejournal.com posting in

Cece and JP hit up a restaurant with a plan to get some free stuff on V-Day.

Jean-Paul frowned at all of the couples coming out of various flower and chocolate shops on the street. The restaurants were full of them -- the couples. Several were on prominent display, in fact, in the windows of places decorated in gaudy red, white, and pink. "This holiday," he said. "It is ridiculous. And very fake, oui? He is the saint of beekeepers. And also plague. And epilepsy. And not fainting. And he is not even on the Roman Catholic calendar any longer. Pah!"

"Shhh." Despite her admonition, Cece had a grin on a face as she stared at her phone. "You're sounding the wrong kind of bitter. You want Marxist disgust or above-it-all indifference." She continued to swipe for a few more seconds, then looked up with a sigh. "This app's got no reservations anywhere. So."

"Yes, because they are all having specials," Jean-Paul said, rolling his eyes. "For couples." He gestured toward a sign outside one of his favorite lunch spots. "You see? Free dessert for married people. Free champagne for people who are engaged."

"See? Bitter." Cecilia looked around the streets of this main street drag. "More interested in the free pedicure with a purchase of a couple's massage, to be honest. Although," she cocked an eyebrow, "the phrase 'couple's massage' skeeves me out." She looked back at Jean-Paul. "I kind of forgot it was Valentine's Day when I suggested this. This isn't, like, one of those 'I'm sad I'm single but at least I have my gay boyfriend' things."

He shrugged. "Non, I think not. But I would very much like the chocolate terrine that is the free dessert there," Jean-Paul said. Turning to Cecilia, he pulled on a solemn expression and said, "Marry me."

"Really?" Cecilia burst out laughing. "Wait." She stopped, deadpanning. "How much ski money do you have?"

"Enough. But more, it is endorsements," Jean-Paul answered, grinning. "That is where the money comes from best. Also, modeling now. And investments."

"And you want me to be your beard just for some free terrine?" Cece raised an eyebrow, a smile on her face. "Has my life really come to this?"

"Yes, and it is glorious, is it not?" Jean-Paul asked, raising his eyebrows as he gave a flourishing bow to Cecilia.

"Oh, lucky me." Cecilia snorted as she looked over at the restaurant. Then she looked back at a rather expectant Jean-Paul. "Fine," she sighed. "But you're not getting out of this easily."

Her hands went to the three rings suspended on her neckline, hanging loosely form a gold chain. She felt for the clasp, then shifted it around so she could loosen it. The chain collapsed smoothly into her hand, the rings landing gently. She looked at them and smiled slightly.

Her demeanor had changed by the time she looked at Jean-Paul. "I want a proposal. Like, a big one, in front of all these people." She slid one ring off the necklace and passed it to him. "And a speech professing how much you love me. The bigger the show, the more free stuff we'll get, guaranteed."

Accepting the ring, Jean-Paul looked it over. The grin he turned on Cecilia then was large and almost excited. "Oui, yes. This will be excellent. Please, go look at a display or something while I bribe our way into the restaurant with tales of this grand gesture I will make."

"Yes." His mirth was infectious, and she couldn't help but grin back. "Don't lose that ring." She fastened the chain back around her neck, unable to notice how much lighter it felt. "And do it justice."

He scoffed. "Do it justice. Of course I will do it justice. I am me." With that, he turned on his heel and made his way toward the maître d. After a short but intense conversation, two very pointed comments about lost reservations, and one flash of the ring itself, Jean-Paul had finagled a table for them in a cozy corner. Walking back toward Cecilia, he offered her his arm with a smile and, when she accepted, leaned in close enough to say, "Be very apologetic, I was terrible to the man."

"Well, of course." Cecilia smiled, taking his arm and giving him a rather dreamy look. "How could you not? You're in love?" They strode toward the restaurant, with Cecilia making sure to bat her eyes appropriately at least once before they entered the doors.

Jean-Paul followed the maître d through the restaurant to their corner table, slipping the man a hefty tip to make up for being a horrible person, and sat long enough to order drinks before excusing himself to the restroom. Considering the amount of money he was bribing people with, he was going to have to convince someone to give him the 2002 Salon Blanc de Blancs Le Mesnil-sur-Oger. But this was fun. One covert conversation with the manager later and he had everything arranged. Sliding back into his seat across from Cecilia, he murmured, "I have been so worried about the terrine that I have not looked at the food for the day. What do you think?"

"That depends," Cecilia gave him an arch smile. "Am I going to be so emotional I lose my appetite? Because the salmon sounds good, but I don't know how well it will reheat."

A waiter glided past their table, a younger man with blonde hair tied back in a top knot. With his smile frozen on his clean-shaven face, he looked between Jean-Paul and Cecilia, then continued to move toward the maitre d'. They exchanged a raising of the eyebrows.

Cecilia tried her hardest to contain her amusement as this went down, an effort made even more difficult by the widening of the waiter's grin as he returned. "Welcome! Thank you for joining us." He made a slight bowing gesture that, combined with the smile, made him seem a bit like a chipmunk. "My name is Timothy, and I'll be taking care of you this afternoon. How are we doing today?"

"Bonjour," Jean-Paul replied, leaning back in his chair as he quirked his eyebrow at the man. He had expectations for how this was going to play out, even if his future happiness wasn't actually riding on them. "We are very well, merci. We will both have the salmon." He handed the waiter their menus.

"And alcohol, mi amor." Cecilia raised an eyebrow as she playfully swatted Jean-Paul on the arm. "Can we — I saw a nice prosecco on your wine list." She smiled up at Timothy, who looked a little startled. "It is Valentine's Day, after all." Her eyes left the waiter, settling on Jean-Paul.

"Oui," Jean-Paul said. "The bottle, please." Because why not? They were getting free champagne out of this arrangement, anyway. He followed the request for the bottle by leaning forward to murmur a few things in French, which the waiter might or might not understand. When Timothy didn't depart immediately, the Quebecois looked at the man. "Merci." The dismissal was clear.

Cecilia giggled, forced as it was, as the waiter scurried away. After a few seconds, confident there were no more eyes on them, she turned to him and gave him a playful shove. "What did you even just say to me? Do you always turn the French charm on?"

"Of course, it is very effective," Jean-Paul said, grinning widely again. "I apologized for forgetting the alcohol and called you 'my dearest love.' I am very sentimental. It is part of my charm. Poor Timothy. At least he will get a very nice tip at the end of this."

"I'm sure," Cecilia shook her head. "Guess I'm not a cheap date."

"Why should you be?" Jean-Paul asked, brows rising.

"Because the whole point of this," Cecilia reminded him, her own eyebrows lifting to match, "was to score some free dessert." She reached for the water glass to her right. "The show's an added bonus. Lunch and a matinee."

Jean-Paul laughed a little. "We will get the free dessert." Lowering his voice, he continued, "And the champagne. Which I assure you, will be more expensive than the whole of the meal, including gratuities. It is worth it."

"Whatever you say, querido." Cecilia winked, just before Timothy appeared, a bottle of wine in hand. She barely looked at him for a second before reaching out and brushing back a strand of Jean Paul's hair. She did have a part to play, after all.

Still smiling, Jean-Paul turned his attention toward Timothy as the man poured the prosecco. "Merci, Timothy." A moment later, another member of the waitstaff appeared, a basket of bread in hand. Once they'd left, a wine cooler in place next to the table, he leaned forward and said, "The champagne will come once I have made a show of asking you to marry me."

"What if I say no?" Cecilia grinned. "I bet they wouldn't make you pay for anything if I said no." She lifted the wine glass. "Plus, I bet someone here would be willing to comfort you later." She raised it to him. "Cheers."

"Oh, you are correct, I believe," Jean-Paul said, raising his own glass in a small toast to Cecilia. "This could be even more fun."

They clinked their glasses together, making eye contact, before Cecilia took a small sip from the glass. "Mmm, yep." She took a larger one. "Well, this certainly got more fun for me." She glanced around the room, gauging some of the other couples in their midst. Behind Jean-Paul, an elderly couple seemed to be bickering. To their left, a nervous-looking teenager scanned the menu while waiting for his date to return from the bathroom. She smiled, watching him for a few seconds before setting her attention on the bread basket.

"Because you don't know what I'm going to say." She picked up the basket, looking through an assorted number of rolls and slices before grabbing the raisin bread. "Much like, I don't know, half of the men in here. How are your improv skills? Pass the butter."

Passing the butter, Jean-Paul then shrugged. "If I am speaking entirely in French, it might not matter. I can at least look appropriately shocked and then bitter." The smile curling up the corners of his lips turned rueful.

"Bad, then." Cecilia teased him as she spread soft butter onto her bread. "Got it."

"My poor heart," Jean-Paul said, pressing his hand to his chest. "How will it ever recover?"

"You'll manage." She took another sip of the wine. "Just you wait."

A half hour later, their dishes in front of them, Jean-Paul signaled to Timothy, who hurried over to remove the bottle of prosecco from the wine cooler. The manager of the restaurant followed, carrying an unopened bottle of champagne. Timothy reappeared, new glasses in hand, as Jean-Paul pushed his chair back from the table and stood.

Cecilia did her best to look confused, apprehensive, nervous all at once, her eyes going from Timothy to the manager to Jean-Paul a few times. "Mi querido..."

After giving a grandiose speech about love, friendship, and commitment, Jean-Paul knelt and pulled the ring from his pocket to present to Cecilia. Everyone around them watched with bated breath as he said, "Marry me, ma chérie."

Cecilia had her hands over her face and, by thinking about her mother's ring in Jean-Paul's hands, managed to bring a few tears to her eyes. It was quiet in the restaurant, the sense of anticipation hanging thickly in the air and making it hard for the other patrons to breathe. "W—what's happening right now?" She stammered, trying her hardest to control herself.

Jean-Paul lowered the ring a little and gave Cecilia a confused look. "I am proposing, of course." At least, he hoped it was a confused look. He had to breathe carefully, abdominal muscles tensed to keep himself from laughing.

"Oh!" Cecilia shrieked as she jumped out of her chair. "Oh my God, oh my God! I dreamed of this day for so long, and I just — I mean, I never thought it'd be here, on Valentine's Day in front of all these people." Her hands started trembling as she brought them back up to her mouth. "Yes, yes, oh my god, Jean-Paul, mi picaflor, of course, yes!"

Before Jean-Paul could do more than grin from his kneeling position, the manager popped the cork on the champagne and everyone around them erupted in applause. As Timothy held out the glasses to be filled, Jean-Paul took Cecilia's left hand and slid the ring onto the appropriate finger. He also brought her hand to his lips to kiss her knuckles. Under the cover of the cheering and congratulations, he stood and leaned down to kiss her cheek. "Did you just call me a tiny Pikachu?"

"Picaflor," Cecilia whispered into his ear, as she wrapped her arms tight around him. "It means hummingbird. The only athletic animal I could think of."

Laughing, Jean-Paul returned the embrace before turning to accept the glasses of champagne from Timothy, congratulations from the manager, and two plates of the advertised chocolate terrine. One glass and one plate went to Cecilia, despite the fact that they hadn't finished their salmon.

"Well," Cecilia looked down at their dessert, then again at her finger. She laughed and grabbed the free champagne. "I certainly hope it was worth it."

Taking a sip of the champagne as they returned to their seats, Jean-Paul let out a pleased hum. "Oui. And I have not even tried the dessert yet."