Revelry At The Cheesecake Warehouse 1/2
PG (part one)
Disclaimer on profile

Spencer settled on to the stool and stared at the email subject line: You have one message! The sender was . It had been two plus years since he filled out a profile on that website, and it had been two years since he'd received a message from someone.

Two years and he was still single.

He clicked the email open.

Congratulations! Ivegotathing4u has sent you an email! Click on the link below to review this member's profile – and make a connection today!

With a sigh, Spencer clicked the link.

There wasn't a picture attached to the profile/message, but there was a small description of his admirer. Seattle born and raised, Blonde/Blue, 5.0", petite, 18-24 yrs old.

He read on.

Hi! Saw your profile and am very interested. Would love to meet you over dinner or lunch and see if we might be a fit. Drop me a line. ~I~

Spencer pursed his lips for half a second before hitting the reply button. No video? No picture? I'm an artist; visual. I need to know who I'm talking to. He hit send.

Moving around to his other emails, he blinked when less than three minutes later he got a response to his email.

I promise, if you don't like what you see when we meet, you can walk away, no hurt feelings. Whaddya have to lose? ~I~

What did he have to lose? Not much. He was as single as single could get... best case scenario, he found the love of his life, middle case scenario, he found a substitute for his hand for a night. Worst case scenario? He had a meal that he didn't have to make himself.

K. how about the Cheesecake Warehouse on Apple St. and Vine? Tomorrow night? 730? Send.

He was closing down his email a few minutes later when his 'date's' response appeared.

C u then. ~I~

Great. He had a date. With a stranger.

At least there'd be cheesecake.


Seated at his table, third glass of beer in front of him, Spencer glanced at his watch again and finally, irrevocably, realized that he'd been stood up. He'd been waiting for 'ivegotathing4u' to show up for their cheesecake date for fifty minutes. And nothing.

Lifting his hand he waved the waiter over.

"Another beer sir, while you wait?"

Spencer could hear the condescension in the waiter's voice.

"I'm ready to order, I'll have the lasagne fromage, and a gin and tonic."

"Ooooh! I'll have what he's having!"

Spencer blinked and looked at Sam Puckett who was suddenly seated in the chair opposite of his. "Sam?" He looked up at the waiter, "Uhmm, she'll have what I'm having, and a Peppy-Cola."

The waiter ran his eyes over Sam, then nodded his head in agreement before heading away from the table.

"Sam what're you doing here?"

"I could ask the same thing about you."

She reached for a bread stick from the bowl on the middle of the table and raised a brow in his direction.

"I was waiting for – suppose to meet some - hey, no, wait, I asked you first."

"I'm here for the cheesecake."

Spencer raised a brow in her direction.

"What? Momma likes cheesecake."


Three beers, two gin and tonics, and a tequila shot into the night, and Spencer was, well, hammered.

Sam finished off the last of her cheesecake. "Drink something besides liquor Spence, or you're going to have a killer headache in the morning." She pushed her glass of soda in Spencer's direction.

"I-I don't want soda," While his words were only slightly slurred, his motor skills were extremely slurred. He reached to push Sam's glass back in her direction but his push/pull levers were apparently screwed. Instead of pushing the glass back to Sam, he pulled the glass forward, spilling the dark soda all over his shirt and his khakis.

"Ohhh!" Sam bit back on a laugh.

"Crap!" Spencer half sobered as the cold liquid hit his body, "Perfect ending to a perfect night!"

"It wasn't that bad, was it?" Sam stood up and moved to Spencer's side, her small hand hooking around his bicep.

He looked up at her and stood up under her gentle prompting. As he thought back over the night, through alcohol blurred braincells, he realized she was right. It hadn't been a bad night. Not once she arrived. Per usual, once Sam was around, everything was brighter, and more... more... just more. Standing up and towering over her small figure, he offered a contrite, apologetic, "No, it wasn't that bad. The Sam part was good."

The Sam part is always good. He thought.

"The Sam part is always good," she chirped and tugged him through the restaurant with her.

"Wa-wait. Where are we going?" With his free hand Spencer brushed at his damp shirt and pants.

Sam grinned over her shoulder, "To the bathroom silly; Peppy-cola stains."


When they got to the back hallway containing the lavatories, Sam pulled to a stop, causing Spencer to run full force into her back. They stumbled a few steps before Sam, freakishly strong Sam, stopped their forward progress. She glanced between the mens room door and the womens room door for a few seconds before making her decision and dragging Spencer toward the left.

"Whoa. Whoa!" Spencer grabbed onto the door jamb as Sam headed into the ladies room, dragging him behind her.

Sam turned around, "What?"

"This is the ladies room."

"Uh huh." She pulled again.

Spencer dug his heels in to the carpeted floor. "I know Freddie and I sometimes seem like 'one of the girls' to you and Carly, but I, at least, am a boy. A man! I can't go in," he pointed with his chin in a fearful manner, "there."

"Why not? Are you afraid you're going to get girl cooties?" Sam stopped pulling, but kept her hand on Spencer's arm as she sidled up to him, her chest to his as she looked up and teased him. "Some boys like having girls, and girls' things, all over them."

Spencer gulped as his thoughts went to a completely inappropriate place at the mention of girls' things.

Taking advantage of Spencer's momentary distraction, Sam pulled him over the threshold and into the bathroom.

Spencer's eyes lit around the lounge area of the ladies room. Taking in the muted music, the fancy soap dispensers, the candy machines (okay they were tampon dispensers, but somethings he didn't need to know), the soft cushy chairs... "Holy crap! Is every ladies room this decked out?" He made a slow spin taking the whole room in.

Sam snorted as she reached for a handful of paper towels and turned the hot water on. "Pretty much."

"I wanna be a girl!"

Sam turned around and faced Spencer, a huge grin on her face. "No you don't." She walked up to him, the towels in her hand and started to lament being a woman as she rubbed at Spencer's shirt. "Aunt Flo visiting once a month, bringing cramps, making you pissy, the fact that you're considered the 'weaker' sex, although," she quoted Gilda Radner, "there is one plus about being a woman; you're always going to be the first one saved off of a sinking ship."

She waited for Spencer to chuckle, or make some comment, but all she heard was silence. "Spence?" She looked up at his face as she continued to rub at the soda stain. "Spen –."

Spencer was looking down at her, his dark eyes hooded.

She'd seen that look before. Not on him. But on the boys she'd dated. The men her mom had 'dated'. The look was lust.

She'd been interested in Spencer for – forever. He was the first boy she'd had a crush on. The first boy she'd had sex dreams about. The only guy she'd ever had 'non-sex' dreams about.

She'd hit eighteen this year, and while Carly and Fredwardo had headed off to their respective colleges, Sam had stayed behind. Behind in Seattle, and behind with Spencer. She didn't come by the loft daily, as she use to do when there was a gang of them, but she would stop by at least twice a week. To check on him.

To see if he was still there.

To see if he was still alone... waiting for her.

Oh, logically, she knew he wasn't waiting for her, but every time she stopped by the loft and saw that he was still single, or just ending another short term, tortured relationship, something inside of her whispered that he was 'still single' because he was waiting for her.

Waiting for her to grow up.

Well, as she'd said, she'd turned eighteen this year. And she was pretty certain she was all grown up. Hence her being at the Cheesecake Warehouse tonight. Earlier this week she'd suddenly remembered Spencer's account on and it had occurred to her that maybe if she could get him on a date, she could convince him that she was a grown up; the right kind of grown up woman for him.

The only problem with the plan was that she'd chickened out. She'd paced outside of the CW for over 45 minutes before forcing herself to walk in and pretend that she was just there to taste the cheesecake.

Versus being there to taste Spencer.

And now she found herself being stared at by Spencer in a way she'd only ever imagined he'd look at her.

His hand clamped on to her wrist and he stopped her from her continued, unplanned dabbing and rubbing of his body; her hand now perilously close to... to... well Spencer's 'playland'.