This part takes place a few years in the future of the ALVINNN! verse.

"Where's Alvin? How long is he going to make me wait now?"

"Um, he's grounded. Hi, Brittany. You look great." It was one of the few truths about her, the way she always did.

It was like she hadn't even heard him. Or the second part was so constant for her it was meaningless. "What?"

"It just happened. Sorry. Simon, too." Theodore, however, was an even bigger sucker for things appealing to your senses than Alvin, but it wasn't about Brittany being breathtaking or her hair smelling delicious. She smiled at him, real smiles, more than she ever did with most people. She ate his secret cookie recipes and said they were better than Eleanor's. He even managed to hand her tissues and hugs on the couple of occasions her confidence failed.

She deserved a really nice dinner. They both did. In the meantime, Brittany was flushing hot pink at her cheeks and temples, which always looked great on her, but made Theodore want to keep several safe feet away.

"I don't believe this. Does he think I'm going home, just because he had the nerve to get grounded in the last half hour?"

He gathered his courage. "Um, well. We could go out. I mean, I could go out with you?" He wanted to look nice. Not so nice she'd notice. Hoodie traded for a dark green button down and chinos.

"You, Theodore? Me?" Brittany was a vision like always; a fantasy in sparkly pink, something with a matching short skirt and jacket that seemed oddly familiar, somehow.

He wanted so badly to call her his eye candy. He wanted so much to tell her it wasn't rude.

"I know all the really good places to eat..." he hesitated. He knew his strengths.

Brittany looked less than impressed at his insight. She did, too. And limitations. Like a severe lack of cool. But he was going for it.

"I mean, I know a place you probably haven't been that you'd really like."

Brittany's expression went neutral. Not convinced.

"I've got all of Alvin's money!"

She covered her mouth, but Theodore swore he heard a snicker. "Sold."

He rummaged in the closet for his heather green sports coat, conveniently hiding his fist pump and triumphant grin.

"So, where are we eating?" Brittany tried to sound mildly interested. "This is an awfully long walk for—"

"We're here."

"Here?" She glanced at the restaurant sign, then back at Theodore, blue eyes wide. "But this is Le Chanson! I read about it on the tri-county 'Hot New Happenings' page! You'd need a reservation weeks ahead of time; there's no way we could get a table—"

"Yeah, we can."

"I don't believe you."

"I'll go in and get it." Theodore cocked his amber-brown head. "I'll be right back, okay?"

"Yeah…" Brittany stood there on the pavement, blinking as he disappeared inside. She wasn't out with Alvin, she wasn't out with Alvin, and she'd have to remind herself harder if she'd just been surprised like that twice in a row.

Alvin wouldn't have heard, known, or cared about this place, but if he had, he might have pulled his usual bullshit about being able to get a table — and Brittany would have called him on it, and it would have turned into their usual yelling about him being better and her being right.

How was everything with Theodore so much quieter and more sincere?

And when Theodore said he'd be back — like he was asking her permission; like he was sorry to make her wait. Like he really cared where she was.

Nice. Shy and apologetic was nice, Brittany realized, even as Theodore was so casually confident he could get that table. Shy and apologetic was how he always was, but this was like the right outfit in the right setting.

And like spotting any great outfit, Brittany Miller felt the potential for something special — and quietly let her interest shiver to her tail-tip.

The bell rang gently as Theodore propped the door open for her. "Brittany?"

"You got it?" She believed he would, she realized.

There were pink roses on the table. That should have been enough, but there were stone and ivy on the walls and a high wooden ceiling, piles of velvety pillows on their chairs and candles burning in glass holders all around them. They had a real violinist, of course — it was only right with the name of the place.

Brittany was still too busy staring around after they'd been seated to open her menu or shut her mouth. "Wow…" she breathed. "This is a-ma-zing."

"…I thought you'd really like it." For the first time, her gaze landed back on Theodore, elbow on the table and cheek in his hand, and an awful lot of fondness in his face.

He really liked her, Brittany thought, touching one of the roses.

Nice, shy, kind, thoroughly Theodore — but a guy who knew he'd definitely made the right call, under that.

Now… they had dinner, she supposed.

"You've been here before." Statement, not question.

He smiled. "Mm-hmm."

"So, is the food as good as the ambience?"

"It should be."

When the first mouthful of soup hit Brittany's tongue, she had to stop herself from moaning, closing her eyes. Opening them, she saw him chuckling, looking shyly confident in that way of his.

Brittany raised a well-groomed brow and summoned the alpha-bitch tones she used like battle armor. "Sorry, Theodore, it turns out that I just don't like this place."

His face fell, and Brittany regretted hurting him even for those seconds. "No, see," she continued, in softer, sincerer words. "I love it."

"You know, right now I could probably be at the food court with Alvin, watching him trying to impress everybody within earshot and ignoring me." Brittany crunched a mouthful of salad, silently betting he could tell her why this was the best dressing she'd ever had. And he would, if she asked.

"Um…" He seemed unsure, and that was fair. She was bringing his brother up.

She got to the point. "I am so glad I came with you."

"Oh." Another one of Theo's shy grins. "I'm glad you came, too."

Brittany raised her sparkling-water glass. "To fairytales for dinner," she said lightly, bright and warm.

"Yup." Theo nibbled his lip, and she caught flashes of something serious behind that wistful smile, but he met her gaze full-on and clinked her glass. "And a good night for dreams."

She was getting dangerously close to a blush, so she focused on her glass. "Let's see, to a night without your brothers — or my sisters. And to your magic skills. And… I'm forgetting something."

"France," Theo helpfully supplied. Those brown-sugar eyes were threatening to caramelize on her. He had longer, darker eyelashes than she did. It wasn't fair.

"Mais oui," Brittany clinked back. "Vive la belle France."

"Do you really want to go to Paris and study?" Brittany looked up as they were digging into their main entrées, trying to pay more attention to Theodore than to the food. "You cook so well already."

"…It's Paris," was all he said, with a soft smile. "And Provence, and the Mediterranean…"

"Yeah," she said. "I know exactly what you mean."

"Petit chocolate soufflé," the waiter said, setting the dishes on their table, "And a rosewater creme brulée."

Brittany looked between Theo and the waiter questioningly. "But we didn't even see a—"

"Chef Marco hopes you enjoy, monsieur, mam'selle." With that, she was left staring at Theodore, expertly twirling his spoon like one of his drumsticks.

"Free dessert," he smiled.

"This looks so good. And smells so good. But how can I eat this on top of the zillion calories we just had for dinner?" She looked at him, pleadingly.

"Well," he said, thoughtfully, using the tip of his spoon to crack the soufflé, "what if you just had a tiny bit?" He extended the half-spoonful of dessert. "I'll hold on for you and make sure."

A smile twisted Brittany's mouth. Why not. She calmly lifted her brows, closed her eyes, and opened her mouth.

She missed biting the spoon, but not grabbing his wrist. Blazing ice-blue eyes met huge, confused brown ones. "It's not fair," she hissed. "It's not fair for something to be that good."

Theodore took a cautious bite, Brittany not even caring that that spoon had just been in her mouth. "You're right," he agreed, bright spark in his face. "That's exceptional."

"And dangerous," Brittany said, too many teeth showing.

"Okay…" Theodore suggested in placating tones, pushing the dish closer to her, "what if we split the rest, and agree never to talk about it again?"

"Done. Watch your fingers, Seville."

It was gone in two minutes, smiles on his part; something close to the edge of tears for Brittany.

"What about the creme brulée?"

"You have it. Fast."

"You sure?"

"Fast."

"Okay…" Theodore took a bite. "Mm. They've really improved this…"

Brittany focused on her pink phone, filtering pictures of the walls so the world would know tomorrow where she had dinner tonight.

Theodore's hand pushed the dessert dish back into her line of vision. "I saved you a bit."

"Can I take a picture of you? I should have one of my host." She realized she hadn't done it all evening. "I won't put it up if you don't want me to."

"Uh, yeah. Sure."

"Smile."

"Give me your other hand."

"Why?"

"Because then I'll smile." She handed it over as easily as the rest of his suggestions. And he did smile, that brightness and sweetness in Brittany's flash. "What about your dessert?"

She snatched her perfect manicure back. "I can't."

"What about… if someone feeds it to you?"

"I…" Theodore dangled the custard-filled spoon under her nose. Brittany cringed. "People say I'm heartless and manipulative."

"There's… four bites left. You'll like it."

"I know!" Brittany closed her eyes, opened her mouth, and devoutly hoped she wouldn't make any more embarrassing noises. Four bites. She could live through four bites. She was in the hands of an expert, after all…

She secured the pink rose in her hair, outside in the evening breeze. Manners were all fine and well and good in their place, and pictures were one thing, but she'd still wanted to take one. Souvenir. French for "to remember".

"Oh, that was so good." She could still taste rosewater and burnt sugar, her tongue more delighted proof. "That was all so good."

"Yeah." Theodore ran a hand through his already ruffled hair. "I like to think I know when a restaurant and a person go together. And you do. And you did."

"Okay, do I want to know how you did that?"

"Did what?"

"Got them to treat us like royalty? Alvin didn't give you that much, did he?"

"Um, no."

At this point, her curiosity wouldn't let her sleep if she didn't get it out of him. "You won't even tell me how you got us in, Theodore! Is there blackmail involved? Is this like one of those 'the fewer people who know, the better' things?" She'd grabbed his arm and clutched it to her chest in excitement, and that was probably why he looked so red in the face, but like she was letting him go without a straight answer.

"It isn't a big deal, Brittany. I, I just went in and told them who I was—"

"Liar."

He sighed. "If you're not even going to believe me, why ask?"

"Theo." She leaned in another searching half-inch. "I've known all three of you long enough to know you all damn well know how to lie. Can't you be honest with me?"

"I'm trying."

"Oh." She propped her chin on his shoulder. "Well, I am a very good liar and you are a very bad one, so I guess I have to trust most of what comes out of you. Even if I only usually believe Jeanette. And anonymous runway blogs. …And sometimes Ellie."

"So, once they knew I was who I said I was, that was it. Then I came and got you."

"Thee-oh-dore," Brittany groaned, squeezing his arm as if it would force the answer out of him. "Why—did—that—work?"

"Oh. Because of the blog."

"'The blog'?"

"Mm-hm. I reviewed them just after they opened. It… wasn't a very good review. Apparently they tried harder to get the food to be as good as the surroundings, and you see it worked, but they've been trying to get me back ever since just to show me."

"Oh…em…gee," Brittany snickered softly. "You must be the most influential date I've ever had, Teddy Seville."

"'Date'?" he said, tracing the sidewalk with his shoe.

Brittany unwrapped herself from his arm and casually adjusted her already perfect ponytail. "You know I hate admitting when I'm wrong. So, either I say 'I meant "dinner"," or we both agree to agree that this was always a date." She snuck her fingers in-between his. "Sound fair?"

He squeezed back. There was something getting to be disturbingly cute about a guy who only looked at you partway. And smiled all the way. "I can live with that, Britannia."

Maybe dating guys who remembered your fifth-grade, power-tripping, one-month nicknames was a bad idea.

Maybe he was just cute.

She'd insisted on a very long and slow walk home, telling herself it was all about the calories. They'd gone through the park. Theo had fed the ducks and the birds with stolen rolls from his pocket. Brittany had laughed, and tossed the pieces he handed her. He took bread; she took roses. They were a good team, right? They'd always been a good team.

At last, however, they'd finally made it back to her tree. Out on the wide green lawn and quiet. Possibly where no siblings were spying on them. He almost blended in, except for the night-lit contrast of pale skin and dark eyes. "Goodnight, Brittany. And… thanks."

"Theodore, wait." She stretched out her hand. This time, she caught his green sleeve. Brittany bit her lip. "I'm not going to kiss you."

He nodded, a slight, sad movement. "Right."

"Because I am going out with you again."

All the candles in the restaurant surrounded him suddenly, lit up every inch of him. "Really?"

Brittany squeezed his hand. "Yeah. Let's have dinner in Paris, at least. And maybe before."

He flung his arms around her middle. "I'm so happy!"

Ordinarily, Brittany Miller might have something to say about a guy picking her up, especially without prior warning, but… this was Theodore. Not like it was the first time.

All she could do — especially since she couldn't see his face and he couldn't see hers — was giggle.

"You're not going to let me go, huh?"

"Nope."

"You've gotten really strong, Theodore."

"Mm-hm. Let me show you. I'll walk you to your door."

Before Brittany could protest more than a few syllables, he'd switched his hold and was carrying her movie style, long gowns and chivalry style, all the way up the steps to the treehouse. The stars got closer, the moon got closer, everything seemed like it was in reach.

Gently, he deposited her at the door.

Laughter was still welling up inside her, but it was clear and enjoyable. "You're something special, you know?"

"Nah. Maybe. I don't know." He shrugged. "But… I like trying to be for you."

"Goodnight, Theodore," she said, warmth filling her like a sudden hot spring. "Thanks. …See you soon."

Ordinarily, after a successful date, Brittany Miller would have rushed inside, to savor or gossip at will, but this time, she felt compelled to lean on the balcony, and watch him go home; cheek in her hand, blue eyes fixed on green, and a soft, easy smile like something sweet on her lips.

"Hi, guys. How was pretending to be grounded?" Theodore took in the empty pizza box, the tipped over pile of video games, and Simon reading on the couch, stretched out and studiously facing away from Alvin. "Wow, no blood on the walls. Looks like you two had a romantic evening."

"'Blood on the walls'"? Alvin's cap-topped face turned in his direction. "You're the one who went out with Brittany. I bet you to prove she's impossible. Fork it back over, young brother."

"Judging by the tone of his voice and the fact that he's smiling, Alvin, I'd say his plan was successful. Perhaps you should have aimed for 'romantic evening'. Wait, I'm sorry, you don't know what one is."

"Bite me, Simon." Alvin was hanging over the back of the couch, blue eyes staring at him. "You mean you slayed the dragon?"

"It's 'slew'."

"No, it's 'Shut up, Si.'" Alvin cuffed his unseen head.

"She's not a dragon. She's a princess." Theodore grinned. My princess, he thought. "Here's your money, Alvin," he said, piling it on the floor. I didn't really need it, but she laughed, so maybe you did the trick. I guess I owe you for that. Oh, and she wants to see me again."

"Wait. WAIT. I thought this was your one shot! What have you got left?" Alvin's eyes were even bigger, jaw gone slack.

As he was slowly mounting the stairs, wondering if he'd ever be able to climb another flight without thinking of Brittany in his arms, he heard Alvin wailing. (If he knew his brothers, he'd bet the rest of Alvin's money it was on Simon.)

"What have we done? What did she DO? What is he thinking?"

…That her hair smelled like lemons. And that maybe green was her color, after all.

A/N: Just to clarify, this whole thing was totally a Brothers Seville conspiracy. Theo wanted to go out with Brittany but was way too shy to ask; Alvin was just as happy NOT to go out, couldn't believe anybody was so eager to spend time with her, and, in fact bet Theo that the whole date would fail because of Brittany (and figured it was a safe bet). They all came up with the "fake being grounded" story. It was a "few days prior" plan.

Basically, when Brittany says "you all damn well know how to lie", she's more right than she knows.

Now, will Theo tell her? (Remember, she did, in fact, decide to go out with him of her own free will...)

Of course he will. But that's a story for another date.