Author's Note: I've found another unfinished fic gathering dust amongst my folders, and decided to take this out for a whirl: I'm not yet 100% sure where I'm heading with it (whether it will be 1 part fluff to 2 parts angst, or vice versa), or indeed whether I'll have time to finish it...but we shall see.

This is my reworking of "Stardust Gets In Your Eyes", Episode 4 of Series 3. I thought there was great romantic potential in an evening of dancing and reminiscing at Padraig's, so I've undone the events of "Changing Times": Peter never went on retreat and Assumpta never went off to marry Leo (presumably they just went home after that night at Kilnashee, with even more on their minds). So, here we find a continuation of Series 3 without angsty complications!

I hope someone enjoys what I have thus far. Reviews are always appreciated, if and when you have the time.

The Way You Look Tonight

Peter Clifford needed a coffee. In fact, he was victim of a cruel paradox; he needed a coffee because he had hardly slept a wink the night before, but to get the coffee that might keep him awake today, he would have to see the woman who was the very reason he could not sleep in the first place.

Of course, muttered an accusatory voice in his head, you could make a coffee at home.

The curate had to concede that fact; but it'd never be as satisfying as a real espresso from Fitzgerald's…besides, he couldn't deny that he actually wanted to see Assumpta. This torture was mostly self-imposed. But what was he to do?

He entered Fitzgerald's, to find the usual scene of Assumpta behind the bar while Brendan, Siobhan and Padraig chattered in their corner.
"Father! Come and join us."
Peter grinned, taking a seat alongside Brendan, and smiling to Assumpta, whose expression was one of amusement.

"Padraig's just been telling us," Siobhan explained, "how his garage used to be the local dance hall, a few years back."
"In the Bronze age," Assumpta cut in, with a grin. Padraig shook his head.
"It was called the Starlight Ballroom, Peter. Bit of a wreck now of course, but I found the old glitter ball last week, still intact."
The curate was grinning, fascinated. "I bet there's a fair few memories for the folks of Ballykea in those dusty corners. Especially the older generations."
"Well, it was before my time," smiled Siobhan, with a hint of pride at that fact, "but I bet there's a fair few 'd like to see the place again."

"There's an idea; why don't you hold a party there? Clean the place up a bit, and give an open invitation for an evening of reminiscence. Get out the old records."
"And Fitzgerald's could do the catering," suggested Peter, at which Assumpta suddenly became more interested and less sceptical.
"Ya know, I could even break out some of my old wardrobe, from the 70's," Padraig mused.
"God forbid," muttered Assumpta, but she was smiling.

Assumpta felt unusually light-hearted as she closed up. It had been a good day, with everyone excited about Padraig's party. Just having an event to look forward to seemed to brighten everyone's mood, which in turn brightened hers; the publican sometimes wondered how her temperament might settle if she wasn't subjected to pushy customers all day. And if certain other stresses were removed…

There was a knock at the door, and Assumpta looked up to find Niamh in the doorway, unusually attired in a calf-length dress in floral-print; a dress that belonged in decades gone by. Mrs Egan looked lovely, actually, but her friend laughed all the same.

"Isn't it gorgeous?" Niamh giggled, doing a little twirl. "It was a party dress of my Mammy's. Thought I'd wear it to this do of Padraig's."
"Good idea," grinned Assumpta, tossing the bar towel aside, looking her friend up and down.
"What are you going to wear?"
"Oh, just this," sighed the publican, gesturing to the skirt and cardigan she wore. "No point in me dressing up; I'm just there to see I get paid for the crates of beer consumed. And to see Padraig dolled up in his vintage rags."

Niamh smiled, but persisted. "Ah, come on; put on your party dress, and we can go together, like the old days when we used to go out."
Assumpta couldn't help but smile, and relent. "Just so long as Ambrose doesn't mind me stealing his date."
"And why should he?" the woman scoffed, "He's only my husband!"

To be continued...