Gina sat at the kitchen table hunched over a cookbook and furiously scribbled down notes onto a small notepad. The more notes she scribbled the greater her brow furrowed and eventually she slapped her pencil onto the table and dropped her head onto the picture of roast lamb cutlets with bok choy and lemon.
          "Problems?" Paul asked, poking his head over the back of the couch.
          "No, everything’s just fine," Gina replied, her voice muffled by the pages of the cookbook.
          "So I can see," Paul chided and joined her in the kitchen. "Want to talk about it?"
          "No," Gina scowled lifting her head. "What I want to do is lob this book out of the window, quit my job, kill all our friends and flee to Somalia."
          Paul took in what she said as he sat down and pondered a moment. "Why Somalia?"
          "They don’t have bok choy."
          "I think that’s a bit of harsh reaction to a leafy vegetable."
          Gina raised an eyebrow. "Oh you are such an idiot."
          "I can’t help it if I don’t have such strong opposition against bok choy."
          "This isn’t about the bok choy!" Gina snapped and shot to her feet, slamming the book closed.
          "Oh," Paul frowned, pondered a moment and then went wide-eyed. "Oh this is one of those girlie things isn’t it? Where you use something minor to metaphorically mean something major."
          "Thanks Oprah," Gina scorned as Paul got to his feet. "Shall we now delve into my childhood and discuss how the loss of a pet when I was four created this overwhelming desire to attack my beau with a Margaret Fulton cookbook?"
          "You know, I hate to nit pick here babe but what the fuck have I done?" Paul groused throwing his hands in the air.
          Gina looked at him a moment and then softened. "Sorry."
          "For?"
          "Threatening to attack you with cookery aids."
          "That’s a start," Paul shrugged, leaning back against the breakfast bar. "You’re always giving me lectures about not opening up and I think it’s about time you took your own advice."
          Gina who was studying the wooden floor looked up, before letting out a heavy sigh. "I can’t do this."
          "What? Open up? Course you can, you’re a woman for fucks sake," Paul chided. "It’s what you do."
          "Not that you stupid little man," Gina groused. "Sorry, you’re not stupid."
          "And?"
          "You are little and you’re definitely a man despite the fact that you haven’t cracked one in a few days now."
          "Yes thankyou for that…" Paul frowned. "And besides, you’re hardly one to speak."
          "Yeah well I’m under a lot of pressure here pal!" Gina spat. "Do you have any idea how stressed I am?" Paul went to open his mouth but Gina cut him off. "No, of course you don’t. You have NO idea what it’s like. I’ve got my boss breathing down my neck because of all the time I’ve had off. Not only that but I’m doing double the work since Meredith left and all the cadets are too stupid to do anything other than photocopying. Then I come home and I’ve got to plan a fucking dinner party so we can prove to those nearest and dearest to us that we’re not a running joke. I mean a dinner party! We’re not dinner party people, it doesn’t reflect us and I have no desire to spend all night in the kitchen while you get cooed at for being such a brilliant host. Then to top it off there is you. Who at the moment is just an annoying piece of man meat who (a) isn’t helping to do anything, which really shouldn’t surprise me and (b) can’t pleasure me sexually so that I might get some fucking relief from all the god damn stress!" She let out a gasp of breath. "That open enough for ya?"
          Paul looked at Gina stunned a moment, then shook his head. "Right, so we just don’t have a dinner party."
          "Excuse me?"
          "We cancel the dinner party," Paul shrugged. "It’s no biggie."
          "Hon, we’ve invited our closest friends already and besides they decided we were having the damn thing before we did."
          "We can still cancel the dinner party."
          "Are you even listening?"
          "Friends invited, expectations, you’re sexually frustrated," Paul remarked, eyebrow raised. "So yes."
          "I hate you," Gina huffed, hands on hips.
          "Fine, we’ll call off the engagement, break up and then forget this whole situation ever arose."
          "You’re not helping."
          "Not trying to help."
          "The most annoying this about this is I can’t even threaten to withhold sex from you for being a bastard."
          "Trust me, the mood your in it’s a threat I’m happy with."
          "PAUL!"
          Paul threw his hands in the air. "What? What do you want me to do? I suggested caterers and you tore me a new one, I suggested a restaurant and you went off on a tirade about the value of money. So please, enlighten me as to what you want or at least point me in the right direction you mad woman or I’m going back to my apartment until my Gina returns from planet crazy bitch!"
          Gina opened and closed her mouth several times. "There’s no need to overreact you know."
          Paul’s face fell in disbelief. "You’ve really gone mental haven’t you? I put a bloody ring on your finger and ‘ba-dang’ your sanity fucks off."
          "Oh and you’re the pinnacle of normality huh? You’re not feeling just a pinch of stress right now. I mean the fact you’ve gone all impotent is just glaringly obvious of how balanced you’re feeling."
          Paul let out a frustrated cry, stalked across the room and grabbed Gina in a headlock. With a hand slapped across her mouth he spoke in the most controlled voice he could muster. "Look, sorry about the whole useless dick thing but you going on about it is clearly NOT helping. Now, listen and listen good babe. I’m not entirely sure what’s gnawing at your sanity but if you keep spewing the hate out at me like you’re doing, I’m going to turn the cold tap on and stick your head under it until you start to make sense again and don’t even think about testing me because by God I’ll do it!"
          He let her go and Gina straightened up as she rubbed her neck. "You’ve never threatened me with water torture before."
          "You’ve never driven me to the brink before," Paul shrugged, wondering if he would have actually carried through with his threat and then decided he would have.
          "Sorry I’m being wenchy," Gina sighed, wrapping her arms around his waist, her chin resting on his shoulder. "I’m all hormonal and stressed."
          "I know," Paul sighed gently moving his hands up her back to stroke her hair. "I’m the same."
          "We chose a crap time to get engaged."
          "We could get disengaged."
          Gina gave a small laugh. "Are you kidding? It took us long enough to get this far."
          "True," Paul agreed, pulling away a little to look at her. "So, since we’ve decided to go through with the engagement thing. What are we gonna do about the party?"
          "I don’t know," Gina sighed, her forehead creased in concern. "I don’t want to spend all night in the kitchen, I want it to be something comfortable for us."
          Paul pondered a moment, clicking his tongue. "Comfortable for us? What are we other than dysfunctional?"
          "Fun, neurotic, surprising, cheeky…"
          "Sexy, you can’t forget sexy!"
          "I don’t think we really want our friends to see that side of us though," Gina chided. "This still isn’t making things any clearer you know."
          "Actually I think you’re wrong," Paul smiled and kissed her forehead. "Grab you keys, we’re going shopping."
          "Shopping for what?" Gina replied as Paul headed back into the living room to retrieve his shoes.
          "You’ll see," he grinned over his shoulder.

          "You’re like Lassie or something," Gina laughed as Paul dragged her through the various levels of David Jones. "It’s ok, the kid down the well isn’t going anywhere."
          "What?" Paul mused, stopping near the lingerie.
          "Slow down, there’s no rush," Gina breathed and was quickly distracted by a black, lacy corset. "Oh pretty."
          "Honey there’s no time for enticing underwear," Paul declared and promptly escorted her toward the escalator.
          "Oh dear god it’s fallen off hasn’t it!" Gina chided and Paul looked at her oddly as the couple on the steps just in front of them looked curiously over their shoulders. "It’s ok, you can tell me. We might be able to get a prosthetic fitted."
          "We’ll pick up a jumbo pack of lubricant while we’re there then shall we," Paul retorted. Gina shot him daggers and he sneered. "It’s like the Gobi Desert in your neither regions."
          "Well I hope you have a good memory of my sands because you’re so not getting to go near them for the rest of eternity."
          "Trust me, my camel doesn’t want to even go near ‘em," Paul scorned as they reached the top of the escalator.
          "Where the hell are you taking me," Gina grumbled, noticing they were amongst a foray of homewares. Paul took her hand and guided her past the crockery, frying pans and glassware until they reached a host of stainless steel creations.
          "There," he declared and pointed to the right shelf proudly.
          "Fondue sets," Gina said blankly.
          "Yeah," Paul perked. "Cheeky, fun, sexy and very unexpected right?"
          "Yeah," Gina nodded and then laughed. "People are gonna think we’re mental."
          "People already think we’re mental," he agreed. "So how many do you think we’ll need?"
          "What? I’m a fondue expert now?" Gina quipped moving closer to check out the coloured fondue forks.
          "Well you’re a girl," Paul shrugged. "You’re good at estimating these things."
          "I take it I’m paying as well."
          "That’s a very cynical attitude." Gina raised an eyebrow at Paul and he stuck his hand in his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. "See, I’ve got it."
          "So I’ve heard," she chided and turned back to the fondue sets. "Well since we decided on just a small group I say three."
          "THREE!"
          "Traditional, chocolate and alcoholic."
          "See, I said you were good at these things," Paul perked and picked up one of the boxed sets and handed it to Gina before grabbing two himself. "What else do we need?"
          "A cookbook, ingredients, drinks, decorations maybe," Gina listed. "Oh we should get a funky new table."
          "Why?" Paul asked blankly as they placed the sets on the counter in front of an aging shop assistant with caked on make-up.
          "Well it’s going to be hard to enjoy fondue and good conversation in your kitchen, or mine. However, if we made some space in my living room we could get one of those cool Japanese…Chinese…those low table things you see in Samurai movies. Add to that some big, squishy cushions and we can sit on the floor, chat and not be obscured by fondue forks laden with dripping sauce."
          "Oh well that’s just straight forward then," Paul frowned. "You do realised delivery people are the anti-Christ? They’ll never deliver a table for tonight."
          "Sure they will, we’ll bribe them!"
          "Genie!"
          "Don’t you want me to be happy?" She pouted and Paul tried very hard to stay opposed to the whole idea.
          "Fine," he sighed. "We’ll get a fucking table."
          "Thankyou," Gina smiled and pecked him on the cheek.
          "Did you two want to pay for the fondue sets sometime today?" the woman at the counter groused.
          "Huh?" Paul mumbled and then went wide-eyed as he fished out his wallet again. "Sorry, yes."

          After a quick trip to the local Freedom furniture store where the people were easily swayed into delivering the table thanks to heavy tipping, a flash of cleavage and Paul's autograph, and an even quicker trip to the supermarket and bottle shop to get food and drinks, Gina and Paul returned to Gina’s to set up for evening ahead.
          "You do realise people are going to come dressed expecting some fancy do?" Paul remarked as he grabbed one side of the couch while Gina grabbed the other.
          "Well we never specifically said what we were doing," Gina huffed as the couch was pushed up against a wall. "Besides, can you imagine all their faces when we make them sit on the floor."
          "Mikey’ll never get up again," Paul chided. "You do realise that?"
          "The fake politeness is going to be a scream," Gina giggled as she grabbed a broom she’d leant against the wall.
          "We should light the room with candles, stick on some panpipe music and wear silk pantaloons."
          "Excuse me?"
          "Too far?"
          "You were the one who came up with the idea."
          "You embellished it."
          "Don’t you like the fondue table?"
          Paul smiled warmly. "I love the fondue table, I love fondue and if I could combine the melted chocolate, you and the table then I’d be happy to phone all our friends and tell them not to come."
          "Aww," Gina smiled. "Shame about your inability to get an erection huh?"
          Paul’s face fell. "Yeah thanks for bringing that up."
          "Well that’s the only thing able to," Gina cackled and Paul narrowed his eyes. Gina shrieked and took off into the kitchen with Paul not far behind her. "You set yourself up!" she called as she fled.

          "How do I look?" Paul asked, sauntering into the kitchen and stopping to do a little model turn. "I picked my loudest shirt."
          "Yeah, it certainly screams," Gina chided. "I’ve decided on Swiss cheese fondue, chocolate fondue and beer and cheese fondue."
          "I should probably sample some of that beer before everyone gets here," Paul mused, heading toward the fridge. He’d just gotten a hand on the fridge handle when there was a knock at the door. "Shit."
          "The God’s have spoken," Gina laughed, wiping her hands on a dishcloth. "Come on," she added grabbing his hand and dragging him through the living room to the front door. "Ok, are we ready?"
          "I’d be more ready if I had a beer close by," Paul pouted. Gina smiled and brushed her lips against his. "There’s still time to cancel," he added to no avail as Gina opened the door to reveal Abbie.
          "Oh my god what is he wearing," Abbie declared, her face falling at the sight of Paul’s shirt.
          "I think he stole it from someone at the last Mardi Gras," Gina shrugged and subtly squeezed Paul’s bottom to remove the scowl from his face.
          "Ohh," Paul giggled, looked oddly at Gina and then back at Abbie. "You’re lucky I’m on my best behaviour," he added.
          "Oh stop standing on the doorstep," Gina gushed and ushered her friend inside. Abbie, who was sporting a knee length black skirt, looked amused by the table in the middle of the living room.
          "You guys break the legs of your table or something?" she inquired.
          "It’s supposed to be like that!" Gina exclaimed.
          "Oh, like in ninja movies," Abbie perked. "How very cool."
          "I know, it’s where we’re having dinner," Gina explained as she and Abbie headed toward the kitchen.
          "Really?"
          "Yeah," Gina enthused. "It’s a fondue party babe."
          "You’re telling me I wore my best skirt to sit on the floor."
          "There’s cushions."
          Abbie narrowed her eyes and studied Gina a moment. "You’re truly mental, you know that?"
          "Yes but aren’t you happy for me?" Gina asked. "Ok, granted I’m marrying an idiot…" she sighed as they both stopped to watch Paul dancing to imaginary music. "But y’know, it could be worse."
          "Yeah, you could’ve ended up the frigid spinster we all thought you…" Abbie stopped, pondered a moment and then quickly continued. "Who would have thought you’d be the first to get hitched huh?"
          "We will talk about this later," Gina scorned, as there was a knock at the door. She headed out of the kitchen, pausing at the door to look back at Abbie. "Oh, help yourself to a drink."

          Within fifteen minutes most of the small party had arrived, Rich and Khym, Amanda and her husband, Danny, and Mikey and Laura. Gina and Paul stood to the side as they watch everyone interact.
          "I suspect Abs is gonna make a pass at Dan before dessert," Gina sighed as she remembered why she hated parties. "Should I get the fondue started?"
          "There’s one guest still to come," Paul replied as another knock at the door interrupted their conversation.
          "Oh," Gina managed to say, before she was caught having to explain to Laura that she hadn’t decided what colour flowers she wanted in her bouquet.
          "Genie," Paul announced a few seconds later, his arm sliding around her back.
          "…So you see, it’s not really something I…" Gina paused and looked at Paul. "What?"
          "I’d like you to meet a friend of mine," Paul perked and motioned to the guest who appeared next to him. "Genie, meet Tim. Tim I’d like you to meet my future wife Gina."
          "Finally, I get to meet the woman who’s pussy whipped monkey boy here," Tim beamed and greeted Gina with an affectionate kiss on the cheek. She returned the gesture vaguely stunned.
          "Yeah," she managed to half-squeak. The whole situation was just too surreal and Gina quickly made an excuse about cheese curdling before fleeing into the kitchen. She leaned against the fridge, staring wide-eyed across the room until Abbie appeared with Danny close behind.
          "Problems?"
          "I have the Allstars in my living room," Gina said flustered. "That’s too surreal to believe." "Yes but you’re sleeping with your favourite one," Abbie shrugged. "So whoever else is here, they’re just Paul’s friends, like we’re yours."
          Gina took a deep breath. "You’re right, it’s fine, no need for neurosis."
          "Although everyone wants to kill you for making them sit on the floor," Danny shrugged sipping his beer. "That’s the word on the street anyway."
          "Cushions people, we have CUSHIONS!"
          "Why are we discussing furnishings?" Paul queried as he sauntered into the kitchen to get more drinks.
          "Gina’s having a conniption fit," Danny shrugged and went back into the living room.
          "Genie?"
          "I’m fine," she lied. "Just having a few seconds time out."
          "Tim thinks he scared you," Paul mused. "Did he?"
          "Oh I should leave," Abbie declared and propped herself against the breakfast bar.
          "Abs!"
          "Fine," Abbie huffed and went back into the other room.
          "Well?" Paul mused, wandering over to Gina who was still leaning against the fridge.
          "I don’t know what’s scarier, the fact I’m getting married or that I have the three former Allstars in my living room," Gina pouted.
          "Definitely the latter," Paul smiled as he pulled her into a hug. "If you want something to really stress about, remember you still haven’t told your mother."
          "Oh god, don’t go there! Not tonight," Gina whined, burying her face in his shoulder.
          Paul giggled and kissed her cheek. "Come on, we better get back in there and be sociable." Gina reluctantly let him go and they reappeared to cheers and jeers from their friends.

          After a short while, when conversation was becoming strained, Gina dragged Paul away from talking about "that time when we were drunk in Germany," with Tim and Rich into the kitchen where they grabbed the fondue sets and set everything up on the table.
          "Ok," Paul perked rubbing his hands as Gina brought through the last plate of fonduable goodies. "Now, I know you think we’re both crazy for forgoing a fancy dinner or raging party to celebrate this most illustrious event in our lives and you’d be right, we are. So, grab a cushion and help yourself to either cheese, chocolate or beer and cheese fondue!"
          "Fantastic," Tim beamed as the group moved forward to find places around the table and start to tuck in.
          Paul headed back into the kitchen and found Gina drinking a glass of water. "Coming?"
          "Not recently," she chided. "Sorry, couldn’t resist."
          Paul smiled and shook his head. "I think the fondue is a hit."
          "Well you should be pleased with yourself then," Gina nodded finishing her water. "Seeing it was your idea."
          "You know, I think I am," Paul agreed and teasingly coerced her into his arms.
          "We should be out there with our guests McDermott," Gina smiled wrapping her arms loosely around his neck.
          "We’ll get there," Paul breathed as they fell into a kiss. Gina pressed herself against him, enjoying a closeness she hadn’t felt for a few days. They’d been kissing for a few seconds when Paul suddenly sprung back.
          "Woah…" he breathed.
          "What’s wrong?"
          "Little Paul wanted to come to the party."
          "Oh?" Gina said blankly. "Oh!"
          "Great, now I’m thinking of you naked," Paul whimpered jiggling on the spot.
          "At least you’re not broken anymore," Gina shrugged. "Just a shame we can’t put it to use."
          "Yeah," Paul agreed. They looked around the kitchen and then back at each other. Their eyes widening at the same time. "Oh babe, we couldn’t."
          "No, that’d be wrong," Gina agreed. "We’d be bad hosts."
          There was another few seconds of silence, Paul continued to jiggle and Gina tried to ignore the little voice in her head that was urging her to tear Paul’s pants off and do him against the fridge.
          "If I stay in this room another second I’m going to have to tear your pants off and do you on the table," Paul declared.
          "I was thinking fridge."
          "Hey?"
          "God Paul," Gina gasped. "Just do it!" she added, popping open the studs on her shirt to reveal her lace-covered breasts.