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"You!?"

Never in his life had he seen fire like the one in her eyes as she was speaking to him.

She was raging, blazing, and fuming but he couldn't help but find her absolutely adorable. In her bathrobe and those fluffy slippers, she looked like she'd just awakened from hibernation.

When he threw her a smirk, she seemed confused, "Don't look at me like that, I'm angry!"

That much he figured.

"What are you angry about?" Harraël asked, his voice laced with humour.

"I'm trying to sleep but I can't because you're making too much noise!"

He instantly felt guilty. He knew pregnant women needed their rest, and stress from lack of rest was bad for the baby. There was no doubt his party had caused her a fair amount of stress, seeing she practically had smoke fuming from her nose and ears as she was on his doorstep.

"Give me a minute."

He turned and walked towards his crowd and grabbed the megaphone Finn had brought along earlier. Turning it on, an ear-deafening, high-pitched screech caused the guests to stop their conversations and cupped their ears for protection.

"Party's over, folks. Get out of my house."

Like a colony of ants, people began streaming out of his house, pushing Moira to the side as they reached the doorsteps. He quickly pulled her inside and stood in front of her protectively.

Ten minutes later, the last if the guests left his house. He felt thankful that they'd actually listened to his plea. Unlike the parties he'd thrown when he was in high school, college and uni, where drunk teenagers didn't appear to own ears.

It dawned upon Harraël that he was ecstatic to be graced with Moira's presence. Of all the people living in his building, she was one of them. It was either pure coincidence or fate had something big for them in petto. Either way, he was happy.

"Now that that's resolved, I will take that it is my turn to leave," Moira announced. "I'll see you around."

And just like that, she was gone, again, not giving Harraël a chance to reply.

He considered going after her, since he'd regretted not doing so last time. But it was early in the morning so she would probably rather sleep than have a friendly conversation with him.

"So that was her?" Finn asked from behind him.

He swiftly turned, "Yep."

"I like her. She's feisty," Finn said, "and pregnant."

"Very much so."

"You said hot and blonde, not hot blonde and pregnant."

"I forgot."

Finn snorted, "Sure.. You like kids though so that won't be a problem!"

"Yep."

"What's with the short answers?"

"I don't know... She's just.." Harraël tried to find the right word. "Something. I'm not sure she likes me, as a person I mean."

"It'll be alright, Haz. Just ask her out whenever you see her, you know, like we talked about? You've got a good excuse now."

"And what's that?" He wondered aloud.

"You have to make it up to her, you know, since you kept her up with the party."

A plan was being forged in his head.

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Weeks passed, and Harraël longed to see Moira, to no avail. She seemed to have disappeared off the face of the planet. It was odd how even after he'd moved into the penthouse, he'd never seen her until the supermarket incident. Perhaps, she kept to herself, which would explain her everlasting absence.

He'd tried going grocery shopping around the same time when he'd met her for the first time. He'd even tried taking the stairs and going past her door, in hopes of seeing her. Unfortunately, for him, nothing worked. It was as if she was avoiding him, but then again he was probably just being paranoid.

When he did finally spot her in the lobby of their building, he took his chance.

"Moira!"

She turned around at the sound of her name, but when she saw who called for her, her face fell along with his heart. Did she not want to see him?

"I've been hoping to talk to you, there's something I want to ask you, Moira."

She squeezed her eyes shut and muttered, "Abracadabra." Pausing to assess the damage, she opened her eyes, "Nope you're still here."

He could barely hold in his laughter. What a geek. He loved it.

"Let me make the noise thing up to you." He tried, a little desperate, hoping he wasn't losing her attention. "With dinner?"

She hesitated. "I don't know.. I'm a busy person."

"With what? Eating and watching television?"

Her cheeks burned bright red, "If you're going to act like an jerk, I will never agree on this date."

"Oh so it's a date now?"

"Goodbye."

He panicked, "No, wait! Fuck, I'm sorry. I can be real blunt, sometimes."

"Oh, really, just sometimes?" She challenged.

"Please, go on a date with me?" He rubbed the back of his head nervously.

"No."

"No?"

"No."

"Why not?" He pouted.

"Because," she sighed. "I just can't."

He didn't know what that was supposed to mean but accepted her answer, not wanting to upset her. Harraël cleared his throat, "It doesn't have to be a date, I mean we can just go out for dinner as friends?"

"Alright," she agreed, "but I don't want to eat out so you're cooking."

His eyes widened at her words, "What?!"

"I'll be at your place at 7."

And just like always, Moira was out of sight within no time.

He fished his phone from his back pocket and dialled his best mate's phone number.

"Hello?"

"Finn, I have a big problem. You have to help me."

Not even 30 minutes later, the two of them were in front of the local grocery store, completely clueless as to what they were going to prepare for dinner. Harraël knew takeout wouldn't do, and he couldn't ring a catering service and tell her he'd cooked it himself. Women noticed everything. He had first-hand experience with them; the all-known.

So here he was, with Mr. Finn Fitzgerald, picking out items that he might be able to use. Neither of them knew how to cook, but why the hell would they when they could either order their meals, eat out or let other people do their thing?

Finn picked up a champagne bottle and put it in their basket.

"What are you doing? She can't drink alcohol," Harraël reminded him with raised eyebrows.

"Shit, I forgot." He slapped his forehead as it dawned on him Moira was pregnant. "Is there anything else she can't eat or drink?"

"Caffeine, soft cheeses, raw cookie dough or cake batter, certain kinds of fish, raw or undercooked fish, smoked seafood, raw shellfish, such as oysters and clams, unpasteurized juice or cider, unpasteurized milk, salads made in a store, such as ham salad, chicken salad, and seafood salad, raw or undercooked sprouts, such as alfalfa, clover, mung bean, and radish, hot dogs, luncheon meats, cold cuts, fermented or dry sausage, and other deli-style meat and poultry, homemade ice cream and meat spread or pate."

Finn's mouth dropped wide open, "Jesus, Haz, how the fuck do you know all that."

"I looked it up while I was taking the cab here." Harraël shrugged.

"Why on earth would you do that?"

"Because I want to impress her!" He threw his hands up in the air in emphasis. "I'm not planning on making a fool out of myself, mate. Plus, I wouldn't want to harm the baby ya know. Small detail."

Finn nodded in approval.

As they were walking down the vegetable aisle, Harraël picked out a pumpkin. There wasn't much he could cook, but at least he sort of knew how to make pumpkin soup. Growing up, he'd watch his mum prepare it over, and over again. Besides, it was the perfect entree for a rainy October evening.

For the main course, he'd picked out a pasta dish –she bought tagliatelle at the grocery store when they first met so she must like pasta, right?

And for dessert, Finn had promised to try and bake a carrot cake.

A three course meal was planned, which wasn't all too bad for two amateurs. All that was left to do now was make sure it tastes good.