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"Who are you," Jakob said, "and what have you done with my son?"
Oh, Gods, it was too early for this. Dwyer looked up from the half-packed picnic basket on the counter, the droopiness of his eyelids having finally subsided to their normal levels at last. "I'm still your son, Father," he said, and suppressed a snicker as his father sputtered, drawing closer to evaluate Dwyer and his handiwork. It wasn't anything fancy - just ham and cheese sandwiches, some brewed tea in a thermos, sugar cookies that his father's boss, Miss Corrin, had helped him perfect - but he was taking care to pack it all as neatly as he could. Presentation, after all, was everything.
"Nonsense," Jakob said, his tone clipped, "my son, awake before dawn? On a Saturday, no less? Freshly showered, dressed, and preparing for some outing? Clearly, Dwyer, you are posessed."
"I told you I was going out today..." Dwyer did his best to keep from yawning. He really was still quite tired, and the siren's call of his warm bed tempted him as ever, but he wanted to do this. "As hard as it is to believe...I have friends who like to see me." It was a bit of a barbed comeback, but that's just how it was with Dwyer and his father. Jakob knew his son had friends, knew he enjoyed making an effort for them, and definitely had remembered being told in advance of his son's plans to be out all day today. At this point, it was almost ritualistic.
Jakob sighed, shaking his head. "Of course you do. Forgive me from keeping you from them, but I still must inquire as to your particular lengths for such friends today. As rarely as you venture out, the last time I remember you being this prepared was when the whole gaggle of you went to view cherry blossoms."
Had he really packed that much? Dwyer looked back into the basket again. No...no, there was only enough for two people in here. Maybe his father had just seen the basket and assumed he was hanging out with everyone today? "It's not that big a deal. Don't worry about it." He let the conversation lull between them for a moment as he picked up a bundle of napkins, nestling them between two mugs. "And if you're worried about driving me somewhere, don't. I'm taking my bike."
"...Very well." Jakob turned to leave, then stopped, looking over his shoulder. "Mind the traffic while you're out there."
"Yes, sir."
"And be back before sundown, I promised Miss Corrin we would look after her son tonight."
Dwyer resisted the urge to flinch. If he had to be back by sundown, his father was letting him off the hook for helping clean the house, but that meant for sure that he'd have to be the one to mind Kana tonight, and Kana would not let him rest. The kid was too smart and too used to Dwyer's tricks to let him nap. "I will."
"One last thing, son? Do be responsible - I would rather not find out about any dalliances through a trip to the doctor's office for any reason."
He left Dwyer with a smirk on his face as his son turned beet red, choking on a sharp intake of breath. Shit. Shit, he knew. Maybe not with who, since his warning could go either way, but Jakob had quite easily figured it out: Dwyer was going on a date.
~*~
The ride to the park was uneventful, if a bit long due to Dwyer's tendency to bike slowly on the sidewalk and stop for every pedestrian, every wild rabbit or bird that hopped across his path. It kept him from expending too much energy and from jolting the basket, which was a win-win situation in his eyes, and it enabled him to reach the park right on time, just as his date was strolling up to the entrance, hands in the pockets of her worn red hoodie. Velouria was an odd sort of girl, the kind who stuck to the five second rule when food fell on the floor and went rooting through trash on the curbs of houses when people put out their broken furniture for the dump trucks. She was the kind of girl who, in elementary school, brought a dried, dead bat in a shadowbox for show and tell and collected acorns on the playground to store in her desk until they started to smell, who took up scraps of things from the prizes of her father's hunting escapades and considered them her dearest treasures, the kind that LARPed with the other nerds in their pack of a friendgroup as a werewolf and often took to wearing her "tail" in her everyday life and seemed above any teasing or sneers about it. In middle school, when kids were cruel, she had jumped into the dumpster behind the cafeteria to retrieve the tin of cookies Dwyer had made in Home Economics on the condition that she got to eat them. Considering that, even if they were in a tin, no one would have wanted them after that, he'd conceeded. Though the tin had now been washed thoroughly and used many times, and even sat in the picnic basket today, the sight of it never failed to remind him of her smile as Velouria bit into what she proclaimed to be 'the most deliciously fresh dirt cookies that ever were'.
"You didn't have to go through the trouble," was how she said hello today, eyeing the picnic basket with a little frown. Dwyer shrugged.
"It's not any trouble. Don't worry about it."
Velouria hummed in a way that wasn't convinced, but there was nothing she could do about it now. The food was made, and he knew she'd eat it and be grateful. "I can't stay out late today. Daddy wants to take me into the mountains tomorrow for a hike."
"That's alright. Father wants me to babysit Kana tonight."
Her eyes widen a little. "Oh, no. Not Kana."
"Oh yes, it's Kana."
"...You're going to need a nap, Dwyer." She said it with a firm finality and put a hand on the handlebar of his bike, helping him lead it into the park. "Let's eat lunch and then nap for a while. But not too long. I want to show you someplace today."
Dwyer glanced up briefly in thought. "Is it the treasure mountain?" He meant, of course, the dump, but 'treasure mountain' was what Velouria called it
"No. You don't go to the treasure mountain on a first date. That's a special place." She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "You're not ready to go there yet."
When would he be ready, Dwyer wanted to ask, but then thought better of it. "Alright. You are the reigning queen of the mountain. I'll defer to your judgement."
"Good."
They chose a shady spot to spread out the bedsheet Dwyer had packed in the basket and ate, chatting softly between bites. They would have thrown crumbs to the birds, but neither of them could muster the energy to do so. The flicker of familiarity in Velouria's eyes when she pulled out the old tin of cookies made Dwyer feel comfortably warm inside, and when she bit a cookie in two and offered the other half to him, it was humbling and sweet. Velouria wasn't usually one to share.
Thankfully, he had just enough foresight to make sure their leftovers were packed up before the pair dozed off, asleep enough to be restful but also aware enough of their surroundings. If anyone from their friendgroup had walked by, they probably would have tried to wake the two, just to check if they were alright - nosy busybodies in their own ways, the whole lot of them - but no one came, and for that Dwyer was later grateful. They had only just started this dating thing, after all.
As nice and as comfortable as it was to nap with someone you liked, it couldn't last forever. Dwyer woke as Velouria started to press her forehead into his shoulder like an insistent puppy, and for her, he woke up relatively quickly, though it wasn't without a yawn and a stretch. Together they shook out the bedsheet, folded it, and put it away, and walked Dwyer's bike out of the park and into town, to a dingy storefront he hadn't really taken notice of before. Velouria waited for him to lock up his bike and tie up his basket before she ushered him inside, and immediately he was hit with the distinct, musty scent of old things.
"...It's a thrift shop."
"It's a treasure shop," Velouria corrected. Vintage furiture and clothes were displayed haphazardly alongside each other, no flow or rhyme or reason to organization. His father would have a fit in here, and Dwyer couldn't help the tugging urge to push everything out of the store and put it all back in again under some sort of manageable system. Still, that would take an immense amount of work, and Velouria looked so calm and at home here, eagerly picking her way through piles of hats, display cases, jewelry trees, clothes racks...no, he would rather defend her sanctuary than desecrate it. After about fifteen minutes, Velouria approached him again, revitalized by the clutter, and held something tightly in her hands. "I'm buying you a present," she said.
"You don't have to do that."
"You didn't have to make us lunch."
"I wanted to."
She smiled, revealing her slightly-pointy eye teeth. "Well. I want to do this."
He shrugged. "Do as you please."
Dwyer had the sense not to peek as Velouria made her purchase, but she did not nearly have as much patience. They were barely out the door before she reached into her bag and handed him the spoils of her efforts: a silver chain, with what was clearly a ring too large for either of their fingers to wear. He let her drop it in his palm; the ring was silver in color and heavy, with a milky stone just a shade away from his hair color.
"Velouria..."
"It's not expensive. The one I really wanted to get was a lot more." She frowned. "It was one of those old rings where you keep the ashes of loved ones inside. It was pretty interesting."
Dwyer nearly choked. The chain was large enough for him to simply pull it over his head, and so he did, the less-morbid ring a solid weight on his chest. "That's fine. Don't put yourself out just for me, Velouria."
"It's not if it's for you. It's okay." She shoved her hands in her hoodie pocket. "That's how it's always been. Even if we're dating...I don't want that to change."
He hummed at that, and smiled despite himself. "Yeah...no. I don't want it to change, either."
The rest of their day was nothing spectacular, nothing to write home about. Dwyer walked Velouria to her house and they parted with a hug - neither of them were quite ready for goodbye kisses yet - and he took the long way home. Some people might have called a date like today a bust, but it's as the saying goes: one man's trash is another man's treasure.