Chu Chee Curry vs Food Poisoning
Title: Chu Chee Chicken Curry vs Food Poisoning
Author’s Notes: written for owensheart who wanted Tosh/Owen and a romantic dinner. Also written forschmoop_bingo : candlelight dinner and tw_classic challenge: first. I have also discovered the epicness of these two so will write more.about them...eventually.
Author's note 2: I have also discovered I have no epic owen or owen/tosh icons:( does anyone have any I can steal?
Summary: Tosh and Owen go on their first date..or why Owen shouldn't be allowed in restuarants
Pairing: Tosh/Owen or as I like to call them: Towen. Brief mentions of Jack/Ianto
Warning: None
Rating: PG
Tosh leant against the railings of the medi bay, watching Jack murmuring softly to a sleeping Ianto as he gently stroked his tousled hair of his pale features.
“Nauseating, isn’t it?” said Owen casually as he also leant over the railings so their arms were nearly touching.
Tosh shrugged. “He loves him,” she said as if it explained everything. Maybe it did.
Owen was quiet for a moment as he watched Jack pressing his lips to Ianto’s frayed and cut knuckles. “Yeah. I s’ppose you’re right,” he muttered as he turned so his back was to the tender scene below. “Listen, you doing anything tonight?”
“Err...no...”
“Good. ‘Cos I owe you dinner.”
Tosh turned to face the medic in surprise. “You do?” she asked as she searched his face for signs that she was being played.
“Yeah. If it hadn’t have been for you, Teaboy would be dead and I’d have to deal with a grieving Captain and a mountain of paperwork.” Owen shuddered theatrically but Tosh knew that if the worst had come to the worst, then Owen would have been just as devastated as the rest of them.
“Well in that case, how can I refuse?” said Tosh, giving him a small, genuine smile that lit up her eyes like diamonds.
Owen cleared his throat awkwardly in an attempt at recovering his composure. “Right...well...that’s settled then. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“No, I’ll pick you up. I know how bad your timing is,” teased Tosh, kissing him briefly on the cheek before walking out, leaving Owen speechless.
Tosh smiled at herself as she straightened her deep purple, A-line dress. She had to admit; she looked good. Her hair was behaving and was swept back in an elegant bun held in place by two red lacquered chopsticks, her eyes had been outlined with a soft brown kohl pencil and her cheeks lightly bronzed. The delicate silver pendant Owen had given to her for her last birthday complimenting her matching silver earrings and bangles. Smiling once more, she collected her keys from the table and placed them in her purse before leaving the flat.
Owen looked at himself in the mirror. “Not bad, Not bad at all, Harper,” he murmured as he did up the cuffs on his burgundy shirt and tucked the shirt tails into his charcoal grey trousers. He then squirted on the musky aftershave Tosh had given him for his last birthday before stepping back to admire the view. The shirt fitted perfectly, the trousers were the right length and nothing was stained. Overall, a good start.
As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Muttering to himself about women and their punctuality issues, Owen grabbed his jacket and before going to answer the door.
“Wow. You look...amazing,” he murmured, as he took in the beautiful sight of Toshiko the woman rather than Tosh the techie.
A light blush stained Tosh’s golden skin. “You don’t look so bad yourself. Ready?”
“Err...yeah,” said Owen as he pocketed his keys and, offering Tosh his arm, closed the door behind him.
“Wow. This is perfect,” said Tosh in awe as she looked around the softly lit Japanese restaurant Owen had brought them to.
“Well... I thought it’d be like coming home and...Stuff. Besides, I don’t have a clue what the menu says,” said Owen distractedly as he picked up the menu to cover his flushed features.
Tosh smiled at his attempts at casualness. “It’s lovely. Thank you,” she murmured, reaching over to cover his hand with hers.
“You think so?” asked Owen, looking over the top of his menu hopefully.
“Yes.”
“Good. So...what do you recommend?” he asked as he showed her the menu.
“Well, the chu chee chicken curry looks good. It’s like a stir fried chicken with butternut squash and chu chee curry and thai basil and peppers and rice added. Or there’s the yasai cha han which is, again, stir fried chicken with egg and mangetout and sweetcorn and fried tofu and stuff,” said Tosh as she glanced up to see Owen looking at her with a smile on his face. “What?”
“Nothing. Just...you obviously know what you’re talking about.”
Tosh shrugged. “My mum used to cook this sort of stuff all the time,” she said as she picked up her own menu.
“Did she ever teach you?” asked Owen gently, sensing this was a sore topic.
“Yeah. I was never very good at it,” said Tosh distractedly as she fiddled with a strand of silky hair.
“You could always practice on me. I’m not fussy and it would save me a fortune on exorbitant restaurant bills,” said Owen casually.
Tosh glanced up at him with a smile on her face. “Are you saying I’m expensive, Dr Harper?”
“Not at all, Ms Sato. I’m purely thinking of preserving your culture.”
“By letting me poison you?”
Owen pretended to think about it. “Yeah.... I see the flaw. It’s a shame I’m not a bloody good doctor who can fix his own food poisoning, isn’t it?” he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Well in that case, we’ll have to do this again, some time.”
“Definitely.”
“Is Sir and Madam ready to order?” asked the waiter as he came to then.
Owen looked at Tosh and winked. “Err.. yeah. Can I have the chicken chee curry thingy?” he asked, somehow keeping a straight face at the look of barely suppressed annoyance on the waiter’s face.
“You mean the chu chee curry, Sir,” he corrected in a bored tone.
“That’s what I said and Tosh?”
“Can I have the yasai cha han please?”
“Certainly, Madam and would you both like a bottle of wine or have you had enough already?” asked the waiter drily as he looked pointedly at Owen who looked indignant.
“I’ll have you know that I haven’t touched at drop since...this morning when I had it for breakfast so yes, we will have the wine if you don’t mind,” he said, watching as the waiter walked away, muttering about the English having no appreciation for culture before turning back to Tosh who was giggling into her hand.
“No wonder you want me to feed you if you treat waiters like that,” she said once she’d calmed down.
“Well I’m sorry, but I take offence to being called an alcoholic,” said Owen with fake prudishness. “Besides, he wouldn’t know class if it bit him on the arse....I wonder if Jack’s free any time soon?”
“You’re mad.”
“You love it.” Silence descended before Tosh answered. “I s’ppose I do.”