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Joey has some trouble concentrating on like, literally anything before his date on Sunday. He gets called on it a lot, chirped fucking mercilessly, especially by Scratch, who knows exactly why he’s being a space cadet — hell, it’s Scratch’s fault for texting Maggie in the first place, but Joey can’t be mad at him right now, considering — and he doesn’t even mind. He thinks it’s freaking the guys out. He hopes it’s freaking them out. They deserve it.
Joey makes an effort with his appearance this time. And he doesn’t mean just in comparison to the first time he met Owen — obviously the false teeth are in his mouth this time — but in comparison to how much effort he ever puts into his appearance. It’s definitely the most effort he’s put into himself before a date, but then, he hasn’t actually gone on a date since college, and those were more of the ‘let’s go for a few drinks then fuck on a mattress on the floor’ variety, so that’s not saying much.
Joey tries on seven shirts before he finally settles on the first one he tried. He only very narrowly resisted calling his sister and asking for advice, and the one thing that stopped him was remembering that she dresses even worse than him.
Joey gets to the restaurant Owen suggested five minutes early, but Owen’s already there. The restaurant’s more casual than Joey expected, and Owen’s just in a t-shirt and jeans, so Joey feels a little awkwardly overdressed next to him, right until Owen compliments his shirt. Then Joey might preen a little. It’s possible.
Owen catches him up on everything that’s happened to him in the nine days since they met — it seems like a whole lot of scholastic stuff and not much else, which makes sense, considering the whole post-grad thing — and Joey does the same, and it’s just. Great. Comfortable. Joey feels awesome.
“It’s really nice to have a friend who’s actually, you know,” Owen says, once they’ve gotten their entrees.
“I — don’t know?” Joey asks when Owen doesn’t continue, feeling dumb.
“Like, I feel like every time I’ve tried to make friends with gay guys lately it turns out they’re just trying to get into my pants,” Owen says, and Joey’s —
Joey’s —
Joey’s misinterpreted this situation so badly. And now he gets to feel simultaneously rejected but also like a predator, because he was totally trying to get into Owen’s pants, so that’s — that’s great.
He manages a scrounge up a weak smile, so media training is actually good for something, he guesses. “Never been a problem for me, but then, I’m missing my front teeth, so.”
“Yeah, but that’s from hockey, isn’t it?” Owen asks. There goes Joey’s faint hope that Owen somehow miraculously didn’t notice Joey’s missing teeth that first date. Not-date. None of these are dates, that has become very clear.
“It’s not a calcium deficiency or anything, no,” Joey says, and Owen throws back his head when he laughs, perfect teeth flashing, and this is all terrible and Joey hates Scratch so fucking much right now. And himself, but especially Scratch.
Joey manages to eat dinner, somehow, even though he feels a little sick — he hasn’t eaten since breakfast, so he kind of needs to — and Owen tells him all these stories about Maggie that Joey manages to laugh at thanks to good ol’ media training. Plus they’re legit funny — Maggie’s a pretty fabulous woman, and Owen’s got a great sense of humor, and fuck, why did Joey assume a dude this amazing would be interested in him anyway?
When the bill comes, Joey takes it, not because it’s a date — it is obviously not a date — but because he remembers just how broke he was in college. And that was with a full athletic scholarship.
“You don’t have to—” Owen says, looking all worried, which like — of course. Because Joey is definitely one of those guys trying to get in his pants. Except not anymore, because Owen’s not interested and Joey’s not a douchebag.
“I was a college student once,” Joey says. “Let me get it.”
“Thanks,” Owen says. “You want to grab a coffee? I’ve got to head to the library after this, so.”
“Sure,” Joey says, even though he’s really not supposed to have caffeine this late, because he is a pathetic man, and even knowing Owen’s not interested, Joey still wants to be around him as long as possible. Which — he is chirping himself for being that sad. But friends. Friends are good to have. Joey needs more friends who don’t strap literal blades to their feet and careen around on the ice for a living.
Owen buys the biggest coffee Joey’s ever seen — Joey didn’t even know they made cups in that size — and Joey mumbles ‘decaf’ at the barista, which is a wasted effort when he just blinks at him and Joey has to repeat it loud enough that Owen hears him. Thanks — Joey glances at his name tag — Joe. Oh great. All the Joes in the world suck.
Owen explains a bit more about what he has to head to the library for, and it’s over Joey’s head because Owen’s smarter than him, and better looking than him, and funnier than him, and Joey’s just — Joey. Being sucky. And pathetic.
“Okay, I’m definitely pushing my luck if I want to leave the library before four in the morning,” Owen says. “Thanks for dinner, that was really nice — you really didn’t have to.”
“Not a problem,” Joey says. “Seriously, don’t worry about it.”
“I told the shelter I volunteer at that I’d pop in next Sunday, help walk a few of the dogs,” Owen says. “You wanna come?”
“Sure,” Joey says, before he can stop himself. “Dogs are the best.”
Owen hugs him when his Uber gets there, loose and friendly, and Joey waves weakly as it pulls away before spitting a stream of curses at the pavement that gets an middle aged woman giving him the most appalled look of all time.
“Fuck you too,” Joey mumbles, and calls an Uber for himself.
*
After the Obviously Not a Date, Who Would Want to Date Joey Munroe, Joey goes home, kicks his shoes off, and then faceplants directly in his couch and stays there for — awhile. There is some moaning into the cushions happening. There is a lot of moaning into the cushions happening.
“So the date didn’t go well, I guess,” Scratch says from right behind him, and Joey nearly falls off the couch.
“Have you never been taught to knock, you barbarian?” Joey hisses, glaring at Scratch once he’s balanced himself just enough to avoid a sudden plunge. He shouldn’t even be there. What if Owen came back with him? Which obviously didn’t happen, but Scratch had no way of knowing that. Except maybe he did, because he knows Joey better than basically anyone, which probably means he knows Joey’s undateable.
“I did knock,” Scratch says. “You were clearly too in your feelings to hear it.”
“I’m not in my feelings,” Joey protests weakly.
He is absolutely in his feelings. They’re bad feelings. He hates them.
“Bad date?” Scratch prompts.
“Wasn’t a date at all, apparently,” Joey says. “He told me how nice it was to hang out with a dude who wasn’t just trying to get in his pants, so.”
“Ouch,” Scratch says. “Sucks. At least you found out before you made a move?”
Joey sighs.
“Oh shit, did you make a move?” Scratch asks.
“No,” Joey says. “We just — we’re going to visit the shelter he volunteers at next Sunday.”
“Joey, no,” Scratch says. “Bad.”
“I know,” Joey moans, rolling over to stuff his face in his couch cushions again.
“Don’t waste your time pining after a dude who doesn’t like you that way,” Scratch says. “You’re better than that, Munroe.”
“Yeah, because guys are so willing to get up on this bod,” Joey mumbles. “I have so many other options.”
Scratch smacks his ass, hard.
“Ow,” Joey complains.
“No self-pity,” Scratch says.
“But I’m so good at it,” Joey protests.
“You’re not going on Saturday,” Scratch says. “Do not do that to yourself.”
“But Scratch he’s cute,” Joey says. “And smart. And funny. And he likes dogs. And baking. And—”
“Dude, do not like, stealth date a guy who thinks you’re just buds,” Scratch says. “That’s shitty.”
“I’m not even gonna,” Joey protests. “I just — I like him. I like spending time with him.”
“And you wanna bone him,” Scratch says.
“Well, I have eyes,” Joey says.
Scratch pokes him, hard, in the small of his back. “Ow,” Joey complains again.
“Sit up like a grown up,” Scratch says, and Joey sighs but sits up, tucking his knees up and manfully ignoring the unimpressed face Scratch is aiming his way.
“Joey—” Scratch says.
“I’m just doing it for the puppies,” Joey says, and Scratch looks unconvinced, which —
Fair, honestly.
*
Hanging out with Owen as friends is totally cool. And fine. Cool and fine. Owen’s a great friend to have. It’s cool.
Why the fuck did Joey agree to meet Owen, as friends, with puppies present? Because there’s no level of ‘I’m a fucking catch’ as ‘I was already a fucking catch, but now I’m laughing and letting a dog lick my face’. Unhygienic? For sure. Boyfriend material? Without a fucking doubt.
Scratch was totally right to tell Joey not to do this to himself, but here Joey is, doing this to himself. On the bright side, he gets to play with some dogs. Dogs are awesome. Joey is very much a dog person. Apparently Owen is too. Of course he is: he’s the perfect person.
stop thinking whatever your thinking, Scratch texts him. He knows Joey way too well.
Joey glares at his phone. It’s you’re., he sends, because he can’t exactly deny he was thinking bad things.
okay harvard, Scratch texts back, like you need a college degree to know the difference between your and you’re. It’s frankly ridiculous that’s one of the defacto nicknames for him on the Scouts consdidering the college he went to was kind of shit. Like, a great one for hockey, sure, but not so much the rest. Which was fine, because he wasn’t so great at the rest either. He didn’t even graduate. And yet he’s still getting chirped about daring to go the route of higher education years down the line.
Philistines.
“Hey,” Owen says. “Come meet Bruno. He’s my favorite.”
It is very stupid to be jealous of a dog, so Joey refuses to be.
Bruno isn’t even the most handsome dog. He’s a boring dog. Screw Bruno.
Bruno licks Joey’s fingers.
Joey is so sorry for every bad thought he had about Bruno, and he loves him.
*
After adorable puppies, and Owen being adorable at puppies, and a dinner at a casual restaurant that involved Owen being adorable at Joey, and just…all that Owen, Joey is fucking wiped by the time he gets home. So of course Joey walks in to find Scratch playing video games on his couch. That is emphatically not what the spare key is for, not that Scratch seems to care.
“Yo,” Scratch says.
“Owen could have come back with me, you know,” Joey says.
“I thought he wasn’t interested,” Scratch says, cruelly rubbing salt in the wound.
“As friends,” Joey says. “Friends can come over. Or never fucking leave.”
“You’d have just had to explain to him that hockey players have zero boundaries,” Scratch says, then promptly puts his feet on Joey’s coffee table in support of that statement.
“Feet off the fucking table, Scratch,” Joey says, only to be ignored.
“Did you adopt a dog?” Scratch asks.
“Of course not,” Joey says, like he wasn’t very, very close to adopting Bruno before he left. The only thing that stopped him was the idea of how unfair his schedule is to a dog. If he had a roomie, maybe, but without one, the schedule’s shit for a dog, even if he hired a dogsitter.
“Did you tell Owen you want to have his babies?” Scratch asks.
“Why do you care so much about this?” Joey asks. “What is this, ‘haha, let’s drop in and laugh at Joey, he’s so sad and lonely’.”
“Well, you are sad and lonely,” Scratch says.
“Not sure how I can be lonely when you’re always around,” Joey says. “Also, fucking rude.”
“I’m not chirping you, I’m legit checking in,” Scratch says. He looks very serious. Joey doesn’t like it. It’s wrong on his face.
It’s not that Scratch is never serious — dude’s got a terrifying game face — or never checks in on Joey — when Joey got outed Scratch didn’t leave Joey’s apartment for three days except for games and practices, which was the only time Joey was leaving his apartment too. But that’s hockey and the worst few days of Joey’s life, not talking about a not-date with a dude not-into-Joey. This is not them.
“You don’t need to check in,” Joey says.
“No?” Scratch says. “You’ve got shit taste in guys, so excuse me for being a little worried about my buddy when he starts crushing on someone.”
“Who says I’ve got shit taste in guys?” Joey says. “You’ve never even met anyone I liked.”
“The only boyfriend you’ve ever had outed you on Deadspin,” Scratch says flatly. “With nudes.”
That’s a compelling argument.
“Owen’s not like that,” Joey says.
“I’m not saying he is,” Scratch says. “But I doubt you thought Zach was like that.”
Joey totally knew Zach was an asshole from the get-go. Unfortunately he was kind of into it. College-aged Joey was an idiot. Not that he’s not an idiot now, because he is, but at least he doesn’t find assholishness attractive anymore. Zach very much cured him of that particular idiocy. Not that he can tell Scratch that.
Well, honestly he can tell Scratch anything and Scratch probably wouldn’t think any less of him — this is a dude who got stuck in a jungle gym slide because he was channeling being five years old while also being six four and two hundred and twenty-five pounds and then made Joey call the fire department so they could help free him. He hadn’t even been drinking. There is nothing that would change their relationship. But still, it’s not the kind of thing Joey wants to admit to anyone, that the whole reason he was into Zach in the first place was that Zach kind of treated him like shit. Honestly something he wishes he wasn’t aware of himself.
At least Owen really isn’t like that. He may not be interested in Joey, which fucking bites, but he’s the kind of guy who would have let him down easy if Joey had made the mistake of making a move before Owen had made it clear he wanted to be friends.
“You telling me to stay away from the bad man, Scratch?” Joey asks.
“No, I mean, it’s probably good for you to have a friend that gets it,” Scratch says. “I mean, the gay thing, not the whole asshole ex leaking dick pics to your fans, that one’s a pretty unique experience.”
“Definitely got me points on the unique experience bingo card,” Joey says. “Hashtag blessed.”
“I just don’t want you to get hurt again,” Scratch says, back to weirdly serious.
“And I appreciate that, Nick, I do,” Joey says, because serious face deserves serious names.
Scratch wrinkles his nose, back to normal looking, plus a little offended Joey dare acknowledge he has a real name, and Joey feels better. His phone buzzes with a text, one from Owen that says, That was fun, we should do it again. The dogs loved you.
“Buddy,” Scratch says with a sigh, probably at whatever Joey’s face is doing when he texts back, For sure.