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The gentle blare of a saxophone graces the lounge and wraps its visitors in a velvet vice grip. The sound encompasses everyone at their tables. Silk tabletops shine under candle lights, and their flames sway to the smooth melodies in the air. At the table sit two young gentlemen, itching in their fine cotton suits. Whether it’s the heat of their 3 piece ensembles or each others’ company is hard to tell.
Glances are exchanged over wine glasses they’re too young to drink from, and fingertips creep across the tabletop.
“It’s nicer than I expected,” Tubbo remarks.
“Yeah, well, I said I was going to take you somewhere nice didn’t I?” Ranboo says with a smirk. Tubbo had always been able to hear it in his voice, but he thinks that seeing it in person is the most charming thing.
“You said that, but I didn’t think it would be… I dunno’,” he falters, reaching for the words. Reaching for his hand. He tests the feeling of their fingers laced together and decides he likes the way his own narrow fingers slot between his. Ranboo’s fingers are cold, and the chill of them on the back of Tubbo’s hand race up his arm and back down his spine.
“It’s… I just didn’t think it would be this nice!”
Ranboo stifles a small laugh. The corner of his eyes scrunch up before his gaze falls upon Tubbo. Tubbo matches his stare. He distantly remembers a comment he made to Ranboo some months ago, that he had been lost in his eyes. Gray and warm, he had said. The photo didn’t do it justice. The warmth of this look intently focused on him is burning hot, or at least it feels that way as the blush rises up his neck. His eyes are a bit darker in the dim restaurant. They remind him of smoke.
Tubbo recognizes Ranboo’s expression. The hand he doesn’t hold is used to prop up his chin as he leans forward, and his head tilts ever so slightly to the side. It’s the look that he gets when he listens, really listens to him. He understands this as his cue to continue speaking.
“I-I’m not complaining or anything, god no. The faucets in the bathroom were all gold-plated and shit, and well, you know I’m all about that kind of stuff. In fact, you’re usually the one who tries to stop me from getting that! From buying it all, making me spend my money all reasonably and crap. I think I’m just, I’m just trying to figure out why you chose this place? It’s so… Mmm...”
“It’s so?...”
With a hum, Tubbo tries to understand why this place makes his chest heavy and warm.
The evening has since turned into night through the window to their side. Other than the candle light that caresses their faces, the only light comes from lanterns that hang around and above them. Their gentle glow casts them and the rest of the patrons in a soft orange. Vaguely, he notices a pattern among his fellow guests. There’s no extended family tables that stretch from one end of the room to another. Everyone seems perfectly paired up, and the tables are… Small. Practically meant to be leaned over, the way Ranboo is.
It’s just him and Ranboo here, huh?
Their request to stream inside had been declined, and Ranboo said something along the lines of “I already paid for it,” leading to this private outing between the two. They have no audience, just the two of them. Eyeing the other tables, everyone is absorbed in their partners. Oh god, it’s all just couples, isn’t it? Husbands, wives, spouses. There’s a blanket of chatter and the occasional break of laughter, but the restaurant is mostly quiet.
These small tables are built for intimacy. You’re meant to lean over them, just like you’re meant to slide your hands over the silk. The lanterns are hung just so, in order to cast only the most flattering shadows over your partner. He wants to make a remark about how lovely Ranboo looks right now, but he’s always been gorgeous.
Tubbo huffs.
And now, all he can do is stare and wonder if this is the right time. Because right now, he reckons, is really their moment. They’ve got the lighting, the mood, the wine. He’s probably not going to dress this nice for another few years. Tubbo feels loose. The music is low and slow. That old saxophone singing to him has faded out, and now he floats over the thrum of the bass and ivory keys.
His heartbeat doesn’t race, and his palms don’t feel sweaty. There’s nothing special in the air other than the feeling of being here. It’s so simple: it’s a date, and Ranboo knows it. Ranboo hasn’t looked away from him since he started staring, and his hand in his has since warmed up with their touch. He feels like he should be nervous, but he is possessed by the strange and all consuming feeling of attention . Ranboo is locked in. Tubbo may damn well be the center of Ranboo’s world. The thought buzzes pleasantly in his mind.
That’s it, Tubbo decides. Although his cheeks are still flushed, he is certain. While he rides the strange confidence this three Michelin star restaurant has brought him, he thinks that now must be the right moment.
He also thinks it would be funny to spring his feelings on Ranboo right now. Who does he think he is, staring at him with such longing?
“It’s romantic, I think,” he finally announces. His eyes, now full of glee, narrow in faux suspicion.
“You think so?”
“Mmm… Yeah, I do.”
“And…?” Ranboo presses, drawing out the ‘A’ before continuing, “And if it was?”
He’s trying to keep his cool, Tubbo realizes. It’s the smallest moment, but Tubbo notices Ranboo’s concentrated stare drift away when he says “romantic”. At the same time, Ranboo’s hand tenses for a fraction of a second.
So, Tubbo leans forward, same as Ranboo, with his chin in the palm of his hand.
“I’d say it’s alright. I think I’m in love with you, after all,” he admits with a sigh, and watches Ranboo short circuit. Ranboo nearly pulls his hand out of Tubbo’s, and he would’ve if not for the tightening of his grip. Tubbo smiles fondly as he snaps to attention, his eyes wide, shining, and perhaps a little bit afraid.
“...You are? Or, well, you said you think you are? Like… You think you’re in love with me?”
Tubbo only rolls his eyes. “Oh, come on. That’s not how this is supposed to work, bossman. I tell you I’m in love with you, and you’re supposed to like. I don’t know. Get all sappy and kiss me or something. Don’t question it.”
At this, Ranboo seems to relax a bit. “What? I, no, no no no, don’t worry, I… I am too, Tubbo. I’m… I’m in love with you too.”
And so, the pair shares a grin over the table. The night is young with promise and potential. Stars twinkle beyond crystal clear windows, and Tubbo finds himself in an unparalleled moment of peace. They stare unashamed at the other with open faces and full, beating hearts that soar towards a horizon of new feelings to explore.
After a beat, a server arrives with their entrée and a mumbled pleasantry. Tubbo and Ranboo briefly flick their eyes at the waiter with a nod before losing themselves to each other again.
“We’ll save the kissing for later, yeah?” Tubbo suggests, and Ranboo nods in agreement.