Author's Note - See chapter one for disclaimers, warnings, ratings, etc.

Chapter Two

Ron had a stab of guilt when he woke in the morning, but he knew he had to get on with his life, so he had rushed around most of the afternoon, shopping and preparing for the dinner that night. He stopped at the corner and bought flowers from the local farmer. He drove back to his house very excited about the evening ahead. He parked his car in his tiny driveway and carried the grocery bag and the bunch of flowers into the house.

He looked at the clock in the kitchen as he set the bag and the flowers on the counter. He had two hours before the surfer was due to arrive. Ron had already gutted and washed the fish. They were now wrapped in foil in the refrigerator. He pulled out a plastic bag of red potatoes from the grocery bag, along with a six-pack of beer, a gallon of vanilla ice cream, a bottle of chocolate sauce, and a package of frozen vegetables. He put the ice cream and beer away.

He found a vase under the sink and poured water into it. He unwrapped the flowers and placed them in the vase, moving them around, so they looked nice. He turned on the oven and got the fish out of the refrigerator. He placed them on a cookie sheet and slid them into the oven.

Ron looked at the clock again and knew it was a bit early to get ready, but he wanted to look nice, so he walked into his bathroom and turned on the shower. He toed off his shoes. He took off his shorts and shirt, threw them in the hamper and jumped into the warm water. He quickly soaped himself and rinsed off.

He washed his hair, annoyed with it, because it was so unruly in the summertime. He knew it was because he didn't take care of it. Ron thought about the surfer and his pretty hair. The long, blonde hair that reached his shoulders. The bangs that hung in his eyes. His hair was probably really soft...he sighed, stopped dreaming and finished washing his hair.

He got out, dried himself and went to his closet. His eye caught the picture in the frame on his nightstand, but he tried not to see it. He picked over the trousers, but finally settled on some nice, un-faded jeans and a white t-shirt. Ron noticed the t-shirt had the small logo of the police charity he was involved with on the left side. He decided the surfer better get used to the fact he was a cop, if he wanted to be friends, and pulled it on.

Ron looked at his face in the bathroom mirror. He thought he looked okay, but frowned at the pinkness of his face and the overabundance of freckles. He combed his hair and it tamed for the time being, but he could tell it was already starting to dry out. He smiled at himself, thinking how the captain had ragged at him to cut his hair and he had refused. It wasn't long, just over the collar, but he just refused to get a crew cut, like half the force. He put down the comb and finished with his personal hygiene.

He walked back out to the kitchen and peeked at the fish in the oven. It looked liked it was cooking properly. He got two pots from under the counter, filled both with water and dumped the frozen vegetables in one. Then he put the potatoes in the sink. He scrubbed them clean, and then dropped them into the other pot on the stove.

He went into the living room, to see if it was tidy. He picked up the morning newspaper off the floor and kicked his shoes into his bedroom. Ron was nervous, but excited about this new guy. This first guy that matter since he'd lost the love of his life. He wondered what had caused the surfer to approach him on the pier.

He went into the kitchen to check on dinner.

*****

The surfer had been in a dither all day. He got up early, did some surfing, and then went to work. Even his boss noticed his jumpy mood. He was nervous, yet excited about this new guy. He was a little unnerved about him being a cop. Not because he didn’t like cops or anything, it was just a surprise.

As a teenager, he remembered he and his buddies being shooed off the beach at late hours by the cops. The officers had been relatively cool, as they had to have known that the group had pot on them. The police didn't cite them and just made them go home.

He figured he and Ron were about the same age, so he probably hadn’t been on the police force too long, so hadn’t yet become jaded. At five minutes to closing, his boss told him to leave, as Draco had been driving him a little crazy.

He wanted to stop by the store and pick up a bottle of wine for dinner. Draco had called his best friend the night before and asked what wine went well with fish. His friend, who was a bit more knowledge on these subjects, helped him out, but not before guessing that the surfer was going on a date. He started to give him a bad time, but Draco had said that he didn’t want a one-night stand with this guy. He really liked him.

He jumped in his van and headed for the store. He remembered his best friend had told him to get a dry white wine. He wasn’t exactly sure what he should be looking for, but he’d wing it. He walked into the store and strolled to the wine section, trying to act like he knew what he was doing. He scanned some of the bottles, when one jumped out at him that said 'dry' on the label. He looked at the price and it was middle-of-the-road, so he felt it would be okay.

He paid for it and got back in his car to drive to the man’s house. Draco looked at his hair and face in the rearview mirror and thought he looked good. He usually wore board shorts to work, but today he had worn jeans and a dark blue t-shirt with a surfboard company logo on it. He brushed the hair out of his eyes and started the car.

As he drove, he got progressively more nervous. He thought this was odd. He must really want this to work out, because he hardly ever got shy and nervous. He drove down the small alley and saw the man’s house on the right. There was no room to park in the driveway, so he parked on the street but edged his car into the drive, so other cars could pass if they needed to.

He got out of the van and gripped the wine in its bag. He could feel his heart patter hard with anticipation. He stood on the porch and rang the doorbell. He saw a shadow cross and heard Ron say, “Hi!”

Draco said 'hello' back and Ron pushed the broken screen aside to let him in. They smiled at each other and he handed Ron the wine.

“Thank you!” He pulled it out of the bag, looked at it and exclaimed, “How nice!”

Draco was happy he had pleased Ron. He stood in the living room, and then Ron told him to sit down and relax. “Dinner will be ready in a minute.”

“Great!” said Draco, as he sat on the couch and leaned back. He watched as Ron walked back into the kitchen. He noticed the red hair curling up in the back and the way the jeans formed to his arse.

Ron grabbed a couple of potholders and pulled open the oven door. He lifted the fish out and placed it on the counter. He leaned against the sink for a moment. His heart was pounding. The surfer had looked just gorgeous standing there at the front door. The dark blue T-shirt contrasting with his blond hair and the jeans riding in the right places. He swallowed another pang of guilt as he turned to the table.

He set the small table and opened the wine. He grabbed two wine glasses from the cupboard and placed them on the table as well. Then he put the bowls of red potatoes and vegetables on the table as well. Next to those, he placed a basket with a few pieces of bread. He pushed the kitchen door slightly open and called to the surfer, “Dinner’s ready.”

Draco got up and went into the kitchen. He saw the flowers in the middle of the table with his wine and the steaming bowls of food. It looked really nice.

Ron beckoned him over to the counter. Draco saw something wrapped in foil. Ron carefully pulled away the foil, and steam wisped upwards. The smell of spices, lemon, and freshly cooked fish enveloped the kitchen.

Draco said, “Oh, that smells wonderful!”

Ron gestured to the plates on the table. “Grab a plate and I’ll cut a piece for you.”

Draco picked up a plate and Ron slid a piece of fish onto it. He picked up the other plate and Ron placed a piece of fish on that, as well. Draco put the two plates back on the table. Ron wrapped the rest of the fish up in the foil and left it on the stove to stay warm.

They sat in the two chairs in the tiny, comforting kitchen. They each served themselves potatoes, vegetables, and bread. Ron poured wine into Draco’s glass, then into his own.

They smiled shyly at one another before they started eating.

Ron took a sip of wine and said, “This is nice.”

“Yes, it is,” said Draco, as he took another bite of fish.

As they ate and drank, they talked. Draco learned that Ron had been on the police force for a little over two years. It had been something he always wanted to do. Ron learned that Draco was studying chemistry.

Draco said, “It probably sounds odd, but I like to figure out how to mix things to get other things. I’d probably like to work for a drug company, help find answers for things, drugs that can help people.” He shrugged. “I was one of those kids who had a little chemistry set. Silly, huh?”

Ron shook his head, “No, not at all. I liked to play cops and robbers as a kid and I was always the cop. My brothers couldn’t do anything without me telling on them. I was horrible.” He laughed and Draco joined in.

They finished eating, after taking seconds and thirds of everything. Ron said, “After a while, if you like, I have ice cream for dessert.”

Draco’s eyes lit up. “That sounds great!”

“Let’s go into the living room.” Ron got up, and picked up his glass and the wine. Draco followed, carrying his own glass. Ron clicked on the stereo and lowered the music so it played softly in the background.

They sat on the comfortable old couch and talked some more. Ron found out the Draco was an only child and his parents were dead. He did have a wide span of friends that were like family to him. His inheritance was getting him through college.

Draco found out Ron came from a huge family and his parents were still living out in the country where he grew up. He didn’t want to be one of the two deputies working in his hometown, so he had come here to work at a bigger police department.

They got to know each other better, and shared things about their families or themselves that they rarely talked about with anyone else. They kept certain things to themselves that they couldn't say aloud quite yet. Draco sat there with his chin in his hand, leaning sideways into the couch, looking at Ron. Ron sat forward holding his glass in his hands between his knees.

It got quiet for a moment, when Ron asked softly, “Did you want some ice cream?”

Draco nodded. They got up and went into the kitchen. The only sounds were of the clinking of bowls and spoons. Ron pulled the vanilla ice cream out of the freezer and scooped some into the bowls. He grabbed the chocolate sauce he had bought earlier and offered some to Draco.

Draco took it and squeezed some on top of his ice cream. “Do you want some?”

Ron voice came out husky. “Yes.”

Draco looked up at him. They stared at each other. Ron reached for the chocolate sauce and tore his gaze from Draco’s. He squeezed some on his dessert as well.

Draco followed Ron’s face, as it turned pink and moved from the bowl, to the ice cream gallon, to the chocolate sauce. Draco said quietly, “Ron.”

“Yes.” Ron didn’t look up.

Draco touched Ron’s chin with his fingers and gently moved his face so Ron was looking at him again. Ron was only a little taller, so Draco leaned in and up slightly. Softly, but not quickly, he kissed Ron on the lips. He pulled away, keeping his fingers on Ron’s chin. Ron audibly breathed out, leaned into Draco and kissed him back.

They stood for a moment, again just looking at one another, before Draco finally said, “Our ice cream is going to melt.”

“Yes.”

Draco pulled his fingers away and reached down for his bowl. That seemed to shake Ron from his trance and he, too, retrieved his ice cream. They walked out to the living room and sat on the couch again, closer to each other, but not touching. They didn’t say anything while they ate the dessert, listening to the soft music in the background.

When they were done, Ron took the bowls and spoons and carried them into the kitchen. When he returned, he said in a rush, “Would like to go out sometime, you know, a movie, dinner or something?”

Draco said happily, “Oh, yes!”

“Good.” They exchanged phone numbers and Ron got Draco’s address. “My next night off is next Thursday. Would you like to go out then?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, but I’ll pick you up.”

“Okay.” Draco knew he should go home. He stood up. He really wanted to stay all night, but he knew this guy was special and he didn’t want to just sleep with him. He felt like he was falling a little in love. “I guess, maybe I should go.”

Ron’s face fell. “You don’t have to!”

“I know, but I think I should,” said Draco, firmly but gently.

Ron’s eyes widened in realization that if Draco stayed, they would probably just sleep together, instead of trying to make it a relationship, like they both seemed to want. Ron knew he should take it slow.

“Then, I’ll pick you up Thursday? Is seven okay?”

“That would be great.” Draco smiled and Ron gave a lop-sided grin. Draco added, “I really enjoyed dinner. It was wonderful.”

Ron brushed his hand up in the air like the dinner had been nothing.

Draco slowly walked to the door. He turned back to Ron and said, ‘Thank you. “

Ron leaned into him and they kissed once again. “You’re welcome.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

Ron stood at the door and watched him walk to his van. Draco waved before getting into the driver’s seat. He turned on the engine and turned his car around in the cul-de-sac at the end of the alley. When he passed the house again, he looked and saw Ron still in the doorway watching him.

Draco waved again and headed home.