Work Text:
Nothing's ever worth it if it doesn't scare you
You could fall apart
(( yeah ))
I double dog dare you
He’s in the kitchen, skillet on the stovetop when his phone starts vibrating. Loud buzzing as it rattles dangerously close to the edge of the counter, left unanswered. The screen goes dark, missed call showing briefly, lost as the screen lights up once more. The quiet of the flat chased away, obnoxious buzzing echoing about the kitchen and Oscar’s reaching over, catches his phone before it falls. Palm against glass, thumb on the screen, too close to the answer button. Indecisive, and he lets it buzz in his hand, eyes fixed on Arthur’s name splashed across the screen. Blurred and obscured image on display, hidden until he drags his thumb over glass.
Screen lights up, full view of Arthur lying in bed, hood pulled up and over his hair. It’s amusing, smirk tugging at Oscar’s lips, one that he can’t help. If they hadn’t seen each other earlier that day he’d assume they were in different countries, miles and continents between them. Stovetop clicks beside him, pan heating up and really he knows he should pay more attention to it. Brown eyes fixed on the sight before him, on the surprise call and it chases away some of his sour mood.
“Mate, are you seriously in bed?” He can’t help but snicker at it, finds it surreal how Arthur chose to call him now of all times. It’s been a couple of hours since they parted, filming wrapped for the day.
“What? Like you have any room to talk, falling asleep in the weirdest places.” The other man counters, is shifting where he’s lying. Bed creeks, sound bleeding in through the line, distracting and Oscar has to pull his eyes away. Attention shifts back to the skillet, hand held over it to check the temperature. Feels hot enough, splash of oil added in.
“What’s up?” He asks, unsure of what else to say or do. They’d spent the bulk of the day together, filming videos for Prema, trying to get as many done as possible. “Rare of you to call like this.” He’s trying hard to seem casual, to keep the tense line out of his posture. The filming was fun, for the most part, ended on a peculiar note, one that’s been hanging over his head ever since. A constant replay of conversation, of back and forth banter intermixed with truth or the occasional dare that he avoided.
“I call,” Arthur pouts, and when Oscar looks back at his screen he sees the man has sat up a bit more. Propped up against a surplus of pillows, and it’s suspiciously hotel-esque, reminds him that they hardly spend any real time together.
“More like an accidental facetime.” Phone’s laid back on the counter, pointed up at ceiling lights and brunet knows what he’s doing, is purposely avoiding being watched. It’s been mentioned to him before, how obvious he is when he’s in a low mood. He blames it on his inability to control his expressions, to hide when something’s bothering him. A literal heart on his sleeve kind of guy and he hates it.
“Still counts, just accidental when trying to text.”
Oscar lifts the pan, swirls the oil around a bit before setting it back down. He’d picked up a fish filet on the way home, a small treat to himself for having survived bizarre questions and peculiar dares. He wanted to say they were too old to play, wanted to point out how strange it was but he’d kept his mouth shut, the questions and dare’s being relatively harmless.
For the most part.
He still feels cornered from the final truth.
“Are you cooking?” Arthur’s voice is loud in the quiet flat, curious.
“Trying to.” Fish unwrapped, parchment crinkling and there’s purposeful avoidance of his phone, of not being seen.
“Mate I don’t think I can watch this, it’s going to be a disaster.”
Amusement pulls at his lips, eyes turning towards his phone and he can’t help but lean over, into view now. “You’re the one who called during dinner time.” He almost says something about hanging up, wants to see if Arthur was genuinely interested in talking to him or just bored. Cutting the call short would only add to the uncomfortable feeling clinging to him, the lingering thoughts about what was said earlier.
He should have just gone with the flirt, should have taken the dare rather then flipping to a truth that was worse.
“How am I supposed to know you’re cooking, it’s always a terrifying experience.”
“You text first? maybe ask if I’m busy? I could have been busy.” Oscar moves back out of view, pulls his fish out and drops it into the pan. Sizzling fills the space, nearly overshadows Arthur’s voice with how loud it was.
“Mate, what could you possibly be busy with?”
He can see Arthur roll his eyes.
“Cooking, clearly.” Bright sarcasm and he’s pulling back, faucet flicked on, spends an extra moment washing his hands free of fish. Oscar doesn’t move back into view, not until his hands are dry and he’s composed his features. As much as he liked being called up like this, he couldn’t help but feel there was an ulterior motive. Arthur seemed to be checking in on him, seeing how he was after earlier.
After his voice cracked on screen, recorded for the world to see.
“If you’re insisting on cooking at least prop me up so I can watch.”
Oscar leans back into view, phone lifted and the room twists around as he figures out where to place it. He settles with propping his phone up against the wall, beside the oven, gives the other man full view of what he was up. Attention shot, and he fumbles around for a pot, has every intent of boiling some pasta for the side.
“Is that fish?” Arthur asks, is leaning forward like he might move closer.
“Yeah,” Oscar gives a side eye to his phone, feels like he’s on camera again. “I wanted something fancy feeling.” He doesn’t want to admit it’s to make himself feel better, doesn’t want to let the other know why he was feeling off.
“You could have just gone to eat with everyone.”
“You know how bad my Italian is, trying to order is just pointing at menus and butchering words.” Not quite the truth but close enough, is the main excuse he falls back on when asked about going out. Socializing with the rest of the guys in Prema was nice, but mentally draining after filming, even more so with their latest exploits.
“Really? I thought it was because of me.”
Oscar’s head pops up, brown eyes on his screen and he’s forgetting all about what he was trying to do. Box of dried pasta in hand and he’s staring at Arthur like this was all a joke. Nothing else said and brunet presses on, “I uh, what mate?” Brows push together, confusion showing on his face. He feels caught seeing Arthur’s expression, the brightness in his eyes. “I’m not understanding?” Unsure, too wary to give away anything more and he looks down to the pasta he’d pulled out. Right, he should measure out what he wants.
“I figured you didn’t go out with everyone because of me.” Arthur shrugs and it looks casual and easy, confident even, pulls his attention back.
Oscar’s openly watching him now, pout forming, spark of panic at where the conversation is headed. He doesn’t say anything, just shakes his head in response, glances back at the pot he set on the stove. Attention slides right past the fish, almost forgotten at this point, sizzling away.
Lack of real response and Arthur presses on, vibrant and animated as he speaks. “Oh that’s great, I was starting to think I freaked you out.” He’s smiling, a pull of the lips that looks more like a smirk and it’s unsettling.
Warmth pools in Oscar’s gut, pout slowly being replaced with an uncertain smile. He refuses to think of it as shy, refuses to acknowledge that side of himself. Hesitant, not shy, and brown eyes are lingering on Arthur, holding his gaze a moment too long. Body turns, a way of detaching himself from what’s being said, from the attention.
“No, you’re fine, you didn’t do anything. It was all just a bit much.” An emotional roller coaster indeed.
“Ah!” Arthur chimes in, excited like he’s won something at the admission. “So the game did bother you!”
Brows push together, nose wrinkling as Oscar struggles to keep his expression neutral. Water slowly starting to simmer and he should put the pasta in, should check on his forgotten fish. Instead he’s thinking about his choices, on his lack of honestly. Lips press together after a moment, quiet exhale and he’s visibly caving. Shoulders sag and he gives a small shake of the head, wants to rattle his thoughts back into place. Admitting a not quite crush on camera was never good. Brunet’s too obvious with his expressions, had still leaned in for the mimicry of a kiss and he can’t help but replay it over and over again.
Separated by a barrier, a what if prospect.
Stomach flips at the memory, swooping sensation that pushes his thoughts back to the present.
“Yeah - it was... just a bit strange.” Too used to bizarre tasks and challenges and he’d frozen in place when they were told it was a game of Truth or Dare, had thought it was a joke at first. “At least I get to look forward to seeing everyone else answer that.”
“No one got that far - well Robert and Paul did but it wasn’t... as fun?” Arthur adds, is sinking down against the pillows on his bed. He doesn’t miss the way Oscar doesn’t move, watches how he stares off at the stovetop, clearly lost in his own mind. “You sure you’re okay?” He adds in a gentle tone, softer then expected and it seems to startle the Aussi.
Another shake of the head, “Yeah, I’m fine,” contradictory words to actions and he’s still not moving, conversation stalled. Sizzling from the pan fills in the otherwise quiet kitchen, and Arthur openly watches as Oscar struggles to find the right words. Mouth opens and shuts, opens again and he’s looking back over, hesitates under blatant attention. “Is that why you called?”
“Hmm?”
“Mate, seriously - did you call knowing no one else had to answer that?”
“I wanted to see how you were doing? You left really quick and the guys wanted to go for dinner.” Arthur doesn’t bat an eye, doesn’t look away.
Oscar blinks first, eyes adverted almost instantly and it’s telling, avoids the other’s gaze. He zones out in the direction of the fish filet, stomach twisting at the prospect of the truth and dare being directed towards him, and possibly Robert. Brunet knew he wasn’t exactly subtle, half wonders if the team was teasing him.
The scent of something burning pulls him back.
“Oh - shi...t....” Disgruntled noise, skillet being pushed back and he’s flipping the filet over. Skin charred black, long over cooked and he’s reaching up, hand running over his face. “Awe, fuck I burnt it.”
“Did you really?” Arthur asks through the phone, is leaning forward like he might get a better view, like he wasn’t propped up on the counter. “How bad is it?” Genuine concern is back, leaves warmth prickling over the back of Oscar’s neck and he tries to ignore it. Shoulders sag and he pokes at the fish with his spatula, almost amazed with how solid it felt. “God - fuck,” He huffs out, voice dropping, “...shit... I don’t have anything else here.” Muttered more to himself, and it’s a bit of a surprise when Arthur responds.
“I thought you bought groceries when you arrived?”
Heavy sigh, head tilting and Oscar looks up at the ceiling, tries to hide the defeat on his face. Not exactly the best day, too much time spent schooling his features into place, in not having a full on panic on screen. He can still hear his own voice cracking, the high pitched ‘yeah’ ringing in his ears.
“Oscar? Mate, it can’t be that bad.” Arthur prods, is trying to get the other’s attention.
“I didn’t get a lot of groceries, can’t exactly read Italian.” Brown eyes turn back towards his phone, “I gotta clean up, I’m going to go.”
“What?! Wait - hold on!” Arthur almost shouts through the phone, is pushing himself up. “Don’t hang up.” He’s set back on the counter, pointed up to the lights and realization sets in, that it’s Oscar’s way of avoiding attention, of being seen.
He’s openly hiding.
“I’m not going to be doing anything interesting, just cleaning dishes.”
“Watching you cook isn’t interesting either.”
Oscar makes a sound in response, is reaching over to turn the heating elements off on the stove. He dumps the water out into the sink, pot set to the side, works on cleaning up the slight mess he made. Arthur’s insistence at staying on the line sits heavily in his mind, like the man knew how low he was feeling.
“Why... why did you call?” Aussi has to clear his throat to keep his voice level, is poking at the burnt side of his filet. He wasn’t exactly a great cook but he didn’t think he was that bad. At least not until now.
“Hmm?” Quiet hum through the line, vaguely placating, and Oscar misses the way the other is moving, the blur of the background as the phones moved about. “I told you, I called to see how you were doing.” Repetition and without the stovetop on, without anything else happening Oscar’s focusing on what’s being said.
“Why?”
“What do you mean why?”
Faucet turned on, fish tossed into the bin and he’s rinsing the skillet, listens to the water sizzling from it being too hot. Brown eyes flick back towards his phone, laid on the counter behind him, catch sight of movement. “Arthur?” He lets the name fall with ease, likes to use it whenever he can, whenever it felt natural.
“I’m coming over, we can go get food.”
“WHAT?!” Voice cracks, water shut off and he’s scrambling to pick his phone up. Oscar catches sight of the other moving, sees that it’s obviously a hotel room now. He’s propped up against something near the doorway, is given partial view of the man pulling his trainers on, hoodie knocked from his head and replaced with a bright red and grey sweatshirt.
“You said you don’t have food.”
“And your first thought is to come over?” He’s on the verge of squeaking again, high pitched and his shock is clear on his face. “I was going to have some yogurt? I think I still have a bit left.”
“Nope, I haven’t ate either so I’m coming over.” Phone’s picked up, world twisting and Oscar can feel heat settling onto his cheeks, runs over what’s already been said.
“I thought...” He starts, is looking away, tries to force his features back into place. “I thought you went out with everyone else?”
Arthur laughs, a low chuckle that reverberates inside of Oscar’s head, one that he wants to feel under his hands, through the man’s chest. A thought he can’t explain, that’s pushed away to the back of his mind. Lips press together, a slow, deep breath and he’s glad the other’s busy looking for keys and his wallet, likes to think he isn’t being openly watched.
“No, I came home, or well temporary home.”
Brown eyes watch Arthur adjust his hair one last time, eyes fixed on the movements of his hands, miss the way he’s noticed.
“...so what do you want to eat?”
Heat flares, nervous bubble in his chest and Oscar’s pulling away, phone set back on the counter. He’s retreating again, works on wiping the countertop down, on staying out of sight of his screen. Door falls shut in the background, ambient noise of the hotel and Oscar wonders just how long Arthur was going to be in town. He was having a bit of down time himself, rented the flat for a short time, cheaper then a hotel -
“You said you wanted something fancy right?”
Aussi nods, feels stupid suddenly, knows he’s out of sight, that he needs to use his voice. Teeth press into his lower lip, nervousness settling in, and he thinks about what had been said before, casual and effortless. ‘Your mine,’ and it’d been quiet, said almost in passing, followed by Arthur leaning in towards the divider for a kiss. Oscar had moved on instinct, had leaned in only to pull away with a laugh, something too close to a giggle. He felt like a giddy schoolboy.
“It doesn’t have to be fancy, I was...” He starts, voice trailing off because comfort food and fancy were two different things but the same in his mind. Back pressed up against the opposite counter and he stares at his phone, pointed up to the ceiling.
“You were what?” Arthur parrots, is making his way through the hotel and towards the lifts.
“I wanted seafood?” Still not giving in, still holding back but it’s closer to the truth.
“Seafood it is mate, I’ll be there in fifteen?”
“Are you going to drive?”
“Over there yeah, but we can walk to a restaurant depending on the area, unless you want to go for a ride?”
Oscar has to take a deep breath, is leaning back into view, flush spreading out across his nose and cheeks. He doesn’t miss Arthur looking at him, the pause as the lift dings before him. The man smiles and it’s soft, a barely there tug to his lips as he steps past automatic doors.
“It’s not safe to drive and hold your phone.”
“You’ll be in the cup holder, rental doesn’t have a phone holder.”
Oscar laughs, is pulling back out of view, “I’m going to hang up.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“Is this how you have so much screen time?”
Picture freezes, connection lagging briefly before the lift dings once more, doors sliding back open. He watches the lobby drift past in a blur, polished tile and decorative surfaces coming and going just as quickly.
“Probably, but I don’t care.” Arthur looks down at his screen, sees that Oscar is gone once more. He smiles wider, amused. “What are you doing now?”
“Uh...clean...ing...up?” Obvious lie and he looks back at the pan still in his sink, rinsed off but far from clean. “I should hang up.”
“Don’t, I might need directions.”
“I don’t even know how to get here, I still get lost at night.”
“We can be lost together.”
Oscar has to reach up to cover his mouth, is trying to hide another laugh from slipping out. He feels like he’s being too obvious, wonders if this was why the team added in the flirting dare and kiss based truth. Not that he wanted to do either across from a camera. He’d opted for a logical lie, hadn’t expected Arthur to add in his choice.
“You have to drive,” There’s warmth sitting on his skin, prominent across his cheeks and he knows he’s blushing, knows that it shows so easily. “And maybe I want to change?”
“Change for me?” Arthur perks up, and he’s looking into his screen, is in yet another lift. Connection falters, image growing pixelated and it’s a wonder how the call hasn’t been dropped. “Awe I feel so special.”
“What - no I meant...” Oscar looks down at his shirt, at bright red and logo’s splashed across him. “I'm still in teamwear?”
“Ah,” Arthur clicks his tongue, is walking through a dimly lit parking garage. “Go change, I’ll be here in the kitchen when you get back.”
“Oh my god,” He’s trying to not laugh, feels the burning of his face. “I’m going to hang up. Besides you’ll be here soon.”
“If you insist.”
“I am,” Oscar pushes, is peeking into view of his screen. “See you soon?”
“See you soon.”
Hesitation, split second of indecisiveness and he ends the call.
━━
When he opens the door there’s a brief moment of genuine surprise, and Oscar knows it shows in his eyes. He tries to compose himself, school his features back into place, eyes darting away. A step to the side, and he expects Arthur to slide right past him. Instead there’s a pause, brown eyes drifting back at the lack of movement, meet bright blue briefly. They pull down from his face, an obvious scan of his entire body and despite all of the time Oscar’s spent in interviews and on television, he has never felt so seen before.
“What?” He asks, voice jumping and he’s instantly reminded of his ‘yeah’ from earlier. High pitched and bright, a genuine manifestation of his panic.
“Mate, I thought you said you wanted to go somewhere fancy?” Arthur grins, eyes pulling back up, hands casually tucked into the pockets of black denim.
“What?” Oscar repeats, confusion washing over his features and he looks down at what he’s wearing. Plain white shirt and black joggers, trainers that have seen better days, casual attire and it’s one of the few things he has that isn’t team branded. Going out wasn’t exactly on his agenda, wasn’t something he’d packed for.
“I thought you said you were going to change,” Arthur’s amused, a smile tugging at lips, too close to a smirk “All you did was change your shirt.” He gestures vaguely in Oscar’s direction, still standing in the doorway. Brunet all but freezes, hand still on the door knob and his mouth opens and shuts. He doesn’t know how to handle such blatant attention, details picked out that he assumed would be over looked.
“I did change?” Partial lie and he’s tilting his head to the side, pleased that Arthur is finally walking past him, into the small flat. Door nudged shut and the sudden quiet of the space feels heavy, a pressing weight against his shoulders. “Should I change again?” Brown eyes turn down, small frown forming and he’s trying hard to not fidget, to draw anymore attention to his attire. Oscar looks up when he’s not given a response, sees Arthur in the kitchen, leaning against the counter beside the oven. He gives him another once over, a curious drag of the eyes.
“Do you want super fancy food?”
“I uh...” He’s looking away, shrugs, “I guess it doesn’t really matter? Food is food at this point.” Arms come up and cross over his chest, closed off body language.
Arthur makes a sound, rolls his eyes and it’s only now that he realizes there’s still dishes in the sink. A clear indication that Oscar really hadn’t cleaned up the kitchen, “Mate I thought you said you were cleaning,” A teasing note to his voice and it’s a sudden shift in tone.
“I did!” Defensive and the brunet hates the sudden flare of embarrassment hitting him. “It was much worse.” He can’t help but add, hates the smile starting to pull at his lips.
“If you say so,” Arthur muses, gaze still holding on Oscar, unwavering. “So...change or no?” Wide curious eyes and there’s something so open and genuine about his expression that hits the Aussi hard. He fidgets where he stands, shrugs - again - knows that the color on his face is spreading.
“Where...did you think we should go?” Indecisive nature and he still has his arms crossed over himself, feels a flutter in his chest that he’s desperately trying to ignore.
“You said fancy so there was this one place that I saw on the way over.” Arthur pulls his phone out, “It looked fancy, but there were other places too... let me find...” He trails off, seeing a text sent his way from Robert.
‘Have you heard from Oscar? He’s ignoring me DX ‘
“I didn’t mean it had to be something extravagant,” Oscar starts, is beginning to regret what he said earlier about going for fancy. He wanted something nice as a consolation prize, vaguely gourmet food to sooth the uneasy ache lingering in his chest. Comfort food for being made to answer questions too close to what he wanted to say. White lies given, and Oscar can’t help but think about the entire ordeal as a catastrophe on his part.
Arthur looks up, screen locked and phone tucked away. Hands press against the countertop, and he’s close to where Oscar had placed his phone not even an hour ago. “What is it that you want?” He asks, less playful sounding and it has the brunet’s skin prickling.
“Food?” He says, knows that it’s far from helpful, is avoiding looking at the other man all over again.
“But fancy? Special occasion kind or?” Arthur prods.
“What - no, it’s not like that, it’s just nice? Like a treat?”
“Oh!”
Oscar can see it, a light going off above the other man’s head, blue eyes brightening. Realization and he’s pushing away from the counter, easy stride back towards the door. “I understand, we can go, I know which place would be best.”
“So...should I change?” Brunet asks and he still feels self conscious, knows it’s redundant at this point but he can’t help how it weighs on his mind.
Arthur looks at him, lips pulling back in a wide smile, gives a small laugh. “I think you look nice, stop worrying so much.”
An infectious smile and Oscar hates how easily he reciprocates it.
━━
"Are you sure you know where we’re going?” Brunet can’t help but ask, hands stuffed into pockets, is regretting his choice in not bringing a hoodie or something. Late summer night, sun setting and there’s pockets of cool air, a chill in the shade.
“Yeah, yeah, It’s...” Arthur stares down at his phone, at the map he’s pulled up. “I swear it’s around here, I saw it when I was driving.”
Oscar lets out a small snort, takes one step to the side and almost leans up against a building. He feels out of place, obviously not a native, and the longer Arthur fiddles with his phone the more his own nerves spike. He’d seen another text pop up on the man’s screen, had seen Robert’s name and it’s caused a lump to form in his gut. General sense of unease, of this being planned out by his friends and it’s had him going a bit quiet. Closed off conversation and Oscar’s looking at the various cafes around them, doesn’t understand why it needs to be that specific one.
“Why not pick one of these places?” Hand pulled from his pocket and he’s gesturing towards the two across the street, tables sprawled out on the sidewalk. Wrought iron enclosure, decorative, and it only adds to the overall look of the place. Aesthetic and quaint, something he’d expect to see on the other’s instagram.
Arthurs head comes up in time for exterior lights to flick on, for the area to slowly shift to a warm yellow glow. He makes a sound in response, looks at the restaurant at the the corner and then back down at his phone. Screen locked and it’s tucked back into his pocket, an action that somehow eases Oscar’s mind.
“And you’ve never been here?”
“I’m not big on walking a half hour to eat by myself.” There’s sarcasm and a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice. “No I haven’t.” Added in haste and brunet knows that he should reel in his discomfort, knows that his sour mood is slowly creeping back in. He looks away, arms crossing and it’s less about blocking Arthur and more about trying to warm himself up.
“Is it enough to be a treat?”
Not the response he was expecting, is enough to make his world spin and Oscar fights down the urge to chew on his lip. He knows how it looks, has been scolded about nervous fidgeting in the past, trained to be calm on camera, open but not too much. He settles with nodding his head, eyes pointed off towards a distant building. Looking at Arthur feels like too much, has him thinking about what was said earlier, even if it had been in passing.
“...So, yes?”
Smile pulls at his lips and brown eyes pull back, a half second on his friend before sliding away once more. “Yes,” Oscar starts and oh god he knows that pitch is back, a vaguely airy note to his voice.
He clears his throat, hates the warmth on his face, is expecting the other to move but he doesn’t. They stand there for a moment, beside a building in fading light and brunet is all to aware of his phone buzzing in his pocket. A slew of unread texts, messages that he can’t bring himself to respond to. At least not until he could compose himself appropriately.
Brown eyes slide up, uneasy smile tugging at his lips, “What?” He asks, forces himself to hold Arthur’s gaze.
“Why a treat?”
Expression twists, arms tightening around himself, “For making it through the day?” He turns and doesn’t wait for a response, wants to end the conversation there. Oscar starts walking, towards the place on the corner without looking back. He can hear Arthur behind him, two steps back with his phone out, texting.
‘Are you sure?’
Message sent and Arthur doesn’t expect an response, is starting to feel like he’s stepped in between something.
━━
They get seated outside on the terrace, underneath a wide umbrella and twinkling yellow lights. It’s a table that makes it easy to people watch, to see the night sky, streaked purple and deep blue, traces of the sun still lingering. Oscar has his back to the building, arms still wrapped around himself as he stares down at the small menu. He can’t read any of it, is trying to pick out words that he recognizes, is trying hard to not look at Arthur to his left. The man’s leaning back, picture of calm and relaxed, phone in one hand and the the menu in his other.
A woman stops by to set water on the table, says something that goes right over the Aussi’s head before leaving. He tries to straighten himself up, ignore the tension in his back as he reaches for his drink. Glass bottle brought up to his lips as Arthur leans back in, “Okay, I think I got it.” He sounds almost proud of himself, eager and it’s hard for Oscar to ignore. Scrape of metal on pavement, chair scooted over and it’s almost too loud, verges on obnoxious. Brunet can’t help but quietly laugh, is setting his drink back down.
“You’ll want this one.” Arthur points at an item, confident in his words. “It’s got the shrimp you like.” He’s grinning when Oscar looks at him, curious eyes running over his features.
Mouth open and he lets out a quiet, “Yeah?” in response, doesn’t know what to make of it. Brunet didn’t think the other paid him much attention, had always given off the feeling that he was just there and not necessarily involved with any of the other guys. An understandable trait as everyone to an extent was still an opponent, if not now but eventually. He looks back down at the menu, phone on the table beside him and the screen lights up. Incoming text, another to the unread pile and Oscar flips his phone over just as quickly.
“Not going to answer it?” Arthur prods, and he’d seen the name.
A shake of the head and brunet’s placing his elbows on the table, arms crossed. Ambient air dropping and he’s too used to warmer climates, doesn’t know if he’s trying to keep warm or close the other off. He thinks it’s a bit of both, knows better then to lie to himself, “I will later.” He looks off, across the street like he’s interested in what others where doing, like he wasn’t pointedly avoiding his friend’s gaze.
“Why not now?” Arthur’s got his own phone in his hand, screen up from double checking words on the menu. “Are you fighting?” Near teasing tone, one that he’ll drop if Oscar shows any indication of discomfort. Instead big brown eyes turn back, genuine surprise showing through and it does nothing but confuse him even more.
“What? No - it’s nothing like that.” Shoulders come up, back curved and there’s discomfort showing through, easy to read expressions. He’s looking down, at the menu and then at the wrought iron enclosing the terrace, at anything and everything that isn’t Arthur beside him. Heat flares, intermixed with discomfort and nerves, something that he knows will peak and then ebb away.
“No?” Arthur’s not entirely oblivious, is leaning back to try and create space, isn’t going to push for anything more. Attention shifts down to his phone and the menu, fully intending to figure something else out for himself. Nonchalant and vague indifference and he’s pulling open his text from earlier, sends another to Robert.
‘I think you’re right but why?’
Message sent and before he can even fully understand another menu item past the first four words there’s a response -
“It just feels rude? To reply when you’re here?” Oscar’s reaching for his water again, color on his face and Arthur hums in response. “It’s probably because I got scolded about my phone at the dinner table a lot as a kid?” Not quite the truth but he’s going with it, small white lie to avoid the repercussions of what he’s intending.
“I don’t mind,” Arthur adds, attention shifting to the menu and then his phone. He leans back in his seat, sagging and terrible posture and he doesn’t miss the half smile tugging at the corner of Oscar’s lips, how he seems a bit more relaxed.
‘Because those stupid questions only we got.’
‘Paul said it’s because he obviously has a crush.’
‘I’m worried he took it personally when the team was messing around.’
There’s a pause, general silence between them and Arthur doesn’t care about trying to read any more of the menu. A shift of focus and he thinks he understands why Oscar had been in such a strange mood, why he bolted from Prema and declined a dinner invite with the rest of the group. They were rarely all together like this, usually went out afterwards just because, but something had been different and Arthur wasn’t blind to it.
“You should respond to him.”
Brown eyes flick over, general surprise showing before being pushed away, before Oscar is looking down at the table. “It’s fine, I will later.”
“He’s worried you’re upset.” Arthur pushes himself up, fixes his posture and before anything else can be said the waitress is back. Ordering is mostly pointing at the menu and butchered words on Oscar’s part, amusement showing on her face as she nods along with them before disappearing once more. She leaves and the atmosphere is just as tense as when she arrived.
“Just text him back.”
Oscar makes a sound, is leaning back form the table, arms still crossed over himself. He opens his mouth and then shuts it, picking words with care and Arthur can see it, watches a handful of emotions flicker across his features before settling on one.
“I’d rather not with you here?” It comes off as too much of a question, causes brows to push together, confusion on why he’s questioning it himself.
“I’ll tell him you’re fine then.” Arthur does it with a quick picture, his phone still held up from trying to translate a specific phrase. He takes a silent snap and doesn’t think twice about the color spread out across Oscar’s face, a prominent hue in the soft lighting. It’s only after he’s hit send that he realizes it might be a bit much, can see the dots of Robert typing appear and disappear multiple times.
“Why does he think you’re upset?” Curiosity killed the cat and Arthur has a general idea of why, had caught glimpses of Oscar’s mood. He’d called for the same reason Robert was texting, had known something was off. “I know it has something to do with the game.” Elbow on the table and Arthur is resting his chin against his hand, undivided attention given. He places his phone face down in a mimicry of how Oscar has his, figures whatever the other might text won’t change things. “Is it because of the last dare? Or was it the truth?”
Oscar sags in his own chair, sinks down and he’s physically making himself smaller, actively trying to disappear from sight. Small frown forming, a pout and it’s hard to miss, only adds to the amused grin threatening to spread out across Arthur’s face. He sees it, feels like he’s being called out, knows he should have expected something like this. “I just don’t understand why, cruel joke or not, it wasn’t appropriate.”
“So you lied?”
Mouth open and eyes widening, genuine shock and there’s more color to his face. Pinky red hue blossoming, spreading across his nose and Arthur wiggles his eyebrows in response. Oscar can’t help but stare, can feel the heat of embarrassment spreading out, a jittery wash of nerves and he suddenly regrets everything.
“I didn’t lie.”
“No?” Arthur blatantly teases, “So you really would prefer a kiss with - ”
“Nope, no, not doing this.” Brunet pulls himself up, corrects his posture and wills himself to calm down, hates the warmth sitting high on his cheeks.
“You lied.”
Brown eyes turn back, pout in full view and Oscar is incredibly warm, the chill from earlier being chased away.
“Mate, oh my god you lied.” Arthur laughs and it’s bright and amused, hands dropping as he fights the urge to pick his phone up. He wants to see if there’s a response finally, wants to say something to Robert, see if he already knew.
“Wouldn’t you?!” Voice jumping an octave and that pitch is back, airy and verging on panicked, has Oscar vividly remembering his ‘yeah,’ from before. He looks away instantly, arms tightly wrapped around himself. Beneath the table Arthur nudges his leg, is all but forcing attention back onto himself.
“I get it, I’d want to kiss the sound engineer too.”
“What, my god - no, that’s not...” Genuine disbelief and Arthur is trying hard to not laugh, an infectious snickering that hits Oscar hard. He laughs himself, despite the panic in him, despite the heat on his face and it’s easier than trying to explain why it’s not the sound engineer.
“Then truth now, it won’t affect your season anymore.” Playful words and they’re both laughing, a panicked noise intermixed, bright and vibrant as it’s pulled from Oscar. He’s leaning away from Arthur now, face flushed and expression scrunched from giggles, from the general absurdity of it all. There’s so much heat swirling over him that he’s genuinely worried he might start sweating, knows that his ears might even be flushed red. He gives a shake of the head in response, fights back down another fit of panicked laughter with the overwhelming need to compose himself.
“No more of this game, it’s ridiculous mate!” Oscar tries, voice still airy and pitched, head spinning and it’s all too much too soon.
“Why not? I was honest.” Arthur pouts, genuine and it sends a rush through the Aussi, has his thoughts stalling. Shift of the world and he let’s out a rush of air, suddenly dizzy. He wants to blame it on a lack of food, wants to say it’s because they walked half an hour to reach the restaurants, wants to pretend it doesn’t affect him. He tries to say something, wants to push the conversation in another direction. The lack of a camera recording, the lack of anyone else around has his mind going blank, PR training shot and thrown out the window.
“Not like you had many options,” Oscar huffs, is reaching for his drink as a way of doing something other then looking at Arthur. It’d been a joke, playful and meant for the screen, was far from real or honest.
He misses the roll of the eyes, is given a nudge under the table.
“Okay then truth or dare,” Elbows on the table and Arthur is leaning forward, undivided attention given.
Oscar nearly chokes on his water, is setting the glass back down. He wants his food now, wants something to occupy himself with, knows that if he picks his phone up it’ll be obvious avoidance. “I... It’s stupid,” He starts, knows how meek he sounds, is trying hard to ignore the burning sensation on the back of his neck or the way his palms feel clammy. He can hear Arthur tsk beside him, doesn’t have the nerve to look, knows how bad he is at showing his emotions on his face.
“Then ask me,” Genuine sincerity and Oscar feels like he’s saved by the waitress returning. She places their plates on the table, says something that the brunet misses. Beside him Arthur grins, wide and bright, blue eyes twinkling and it’s impish.
“Grazie, possiamo avere ciascuno un bicchiere di vino dolce?”
The woman laughs, amused and says something that sounds agreeable before leaving.
Oscar glares at Arthur, full blown pout in place.
“What?”
“Truth or dare,” It comes out in a slight hiss, annoyed and the brunet is leaning over.
Arthur grins, wide and amused. “Truth!” He chirps.
“You know Italian and you didn’t say shit?!”
The other man gives a casual shrug, elbows off the table and everything about him is suave and cool. It’s starting to weigh on Oscar’s mind, has him questioning everything that’s been said or done the whole evening. He pulls himself back, tries to ignore the amused air hanging around Arthur, focuses in on the food set before him. Polenta and shrimp with another meat below them, a fancy drizzle of a red looking sauce. “Can’t believe you didn’t say anything.” Half pouting, and he’s picking his cutlery up, focuses on finally having something to eat.
“You didn’t ask, besides I’m not as fluent as my brother.”
There’s pasta and chicken on the other’s plate, something simple and traditional and Oscar can’t help but focus on it. Brown eyes flick up, settle on the other man’s face and there’s words forming, catching on his tongue as the woman reappears with two glasses of wine.
“Truth or dare,” Arthur chimes, wide and amused grin pulling at lips.
Oscar knows what the truth is, panics, “Dare?” He squeaks, eyes focused on the deep red drink placed before him.
“I dare you to finish the wine before we leave.”
Mouth open and shut, confusion flickering past before a shake of the head. It’s not the worst, isn’t exactly embarrassing by any stretch. “Okay, deal.” Oscar takes a bite of his food only to be lightly kicked under the table. He looks back at Arthur, annoyance in his eyes.
“Well? Go on, try it.”
“You said before we leave, I’m going to eat first.” He pointedly takes a bite, is slow to chew, takes his time swallowing. There’s a sense of pride swelling in his chest, excitement at the attention even if it’s only because he’s eating. “Why the wine though?” He asks, attention split between the drink and the way Arthur is already sipping his own.
“Ah, that’s not how you play the game.”
Oscar stalls, is half way to taking a bite of shrimp. He looks at the other man, at the amusement still shining in his eyes and caves almost instantly. Shrimp chewed thoroughly, swallowed down and the flavor is nicer then expected, seasoned in a way that’s genuinely surprising. Tongue chases after it, over his lower lip and he reaches for the wine, holds the glass.
“Fine, truth or dare.” They’re both ridiculous, the whole day has been a fever dream and he isn’t waiting for a response, takes a sip of the wine.
It’s sweet, surprisingly, far from dry and it’s the second time he’s ever had it. Prosecco and champagne were different, a bubbly fizzy drink he didn’t care for unless it came from winning.
“Truth,” Arthur hums, is slowly making his way through his meal. Bright blue eyes peer up, linger on Oscar’s face as he sets the drink back down, can easily see that he likes it.
“Why the wine?” Brunet repeats, looks over and he doesn’t know what to do with the fact that he’s being openly watched.
“You wanted a treat.” Smile pulls at lips, is lost a moment later as Arthur takes another bite of his dinner. “Truth or dare?”
Brown eyes pull away, move down at his plate and he eats for a good minute, stalling. Another sip of wine, another bite of shrimp, a bit of polenta on the fork and the other man is waiting patiently. Oscar knows he can’t avoid the truth option forever but he’s going to try it, wants to delay the inevitable for as long as possible. “Dare,” He says after he finishes chewing, feels a prickling on his skin, a twist of the gut.
Arthur hums, is reaching over and flipping Oscar’s phone over. Face up and staring at him, “I dare you to respond to him.”
“What?” Unexpected and there’s hesitation, brief. “Why?”
“I didn’t pick yet, now - go on.”
Phone picked up and brunet unlocks the screen, sees a slew of unread messages, general questions on if he’s okay, if he’s mad, a couple what happened and finally, in all caps.
YOU WENT OUT
ARE YOU ON A DATE?’
Confusion hits him, eyes turning towards Arthur, find the man staring. He looks smug, like he’s done something nice, like this was what he was going for. “Did you tell him we were together?” Oscar asks, can feel his heart hammering in his chest, spark of nerves. He was pointedly refusing to think of this as a date, didn’t want to have his hopes up only to be dashed an hour later.
“Something like that.”
He watches him take a sip of his own drink, red liquid being licked away from his lower lip. Brown eyes pull back, too much all at once and he’s finally opening up a reply, is quickly typing out his response and hitting send.
‘He called when I brunt my dinner?’
Vague and giving away nothing, confusion swirling through him.
He takes another bite of his dinner, falls silent for a good minute, tries to pull in the reins of his mind. PR mask smoothing out features before looking back at Arthur. “Truth or dare?” Loaded question and he knows he’ll get his answer either way.
“Truth,” Arthur picks, still self assured, smug.
“What did you send him?” Fork pointed at the man’s phone, face down on the table still. “I want to see.”
“Depends, are you going to pick another dare?”
Oscar can see the impish sparkle in blue, hates how it makes his stomach flip.
“Truth.” He says, tries to ignore how breathless he sounds.
“Did you lie about who you wanted to kiss?” Arthur asks, accent heavier then usual.
“Of course I did, who wouldn’t?” Fork pointed at the man’s phone again and he’s feeling hot and cold all at once, almost terrified at what’s been said. “Show me?” Oscar expects push back, expects to be asked another question in return except there is none. Screen unlocked and Arthur is pulling up the picture he took of him. Soft lighting, ambient atmosphere and prominent flush to his face. God, no wonder Robert thought it was a date.
Brunet pulls back a moment later, falls silent as he eats, another bite of the other meat and it’s some variation of a sausage. He chews to avoid talking, head spinning and the world seems to be a mess around him, a nice haze of warm yellow lights, a dark sky above. More wine and he’s not used to drinking, can feel it on his skin, a hot cold chill settling in.
“Truth or dare,” He says, and it seems to surprise Arthur, has blue eyes pulling up. Piece of chicken pulled off the fork, quickly chewed and swallowed down. A sip of wine, another delay and he’s picking with care.
“Truth.”
Oscar half expected a dare, hadn’t figured out what he’d say regardless.
“Why did you send that to Robert?”
In the corner of his eye he can see the other stall, can see the fork half way to his mouth before being lowered. Chatter in the distance, behind them in the restaurant, conversation that he doesn’t understand, that he’s focusing in on regardless.
“Because... he was worried about you?”
Brown eyes slide over, settle on Arthur, unamused. They both know a PR response when they hear one, know that it’s not genuine or honest. Half truths on camera is what they live by, is something they can pick out on each other.
“Okay, fine, because only you and him got those questions and the team thinks you have a crush on someone.” Probably not something that should be shared, but it’s out in the open and Arthur knows there’s no going back now. He started it after all. “It’s Robert right?”
Oscar abruptly reaches for his wine and downs the rest of the glass in a few quick chugs.
“I’m done whenever you are.”
━━
He’s walking too quickly, arms wrapped tightly around himself as they leave the restaurant, headed back in the direction his flat. Temperature dropping and he feels cold, a chill that’s settled in to his chest, that’ll be there for days on end. Vague panic crawls over him, that has him on the verge of shaking and it’s too much. There’d been instant regret at downing the wine, at the way it sat heavily in his gut. Too little food and too much alcohol has him dizzy, a buzz to end the day with. Arthur’s following him, pace matched and it’s obvious he doesn’t understand, is something that needs talked about.
“Why are you mad?” Arthur says, is forcing Oscar to stop by coming to a halt. Quiet street, and they’re not alone, pedestrians strolling past, the distant sound of cars on the road ahead of them.
Lips press together, brown eyes pointed elsewhere and he knows the look he’s being given. He’s seen it before, the way Arthur looks like a kicked puppy when he’s lost. Physically, mentally or scolded for something stupid didn’t matter, he had the same look each time, and every time Oscar has always seen it as - “It doesn’t matter.” The wine has him feeling light, has his skin prickling, hot and cold. “Can we go?” Half turn and brunet has no intention of loitering out in the open.
“Yes it does,” Arthur reaches up, is rubbing at his eyes, exasperated and confused. “I’m sorry? Did you not want Robert to know anything? He was the one who said you have a crush, if you don’t then - ”
“It’s because I do.” Oscar all but snaps, and it’s startling, the air being sucked from his chest. He turns, trainers scraping as he starts walking again. Loose lips, more words on his tongue and he hates the wine, hates the warmth it gave him, only to be replaced with a swift, panicked chill.
“Wait - Oscar, hold on.” Arthur is practically jogging to catch back up, hand coming out and he grabs the Aussi’s arm. Fingers curl around skin, a light tug and there’s goosebumps there, noticeable and real. It derails his thoughts, single minded focus, “Are you cold?! Mate, seriously?”
Arm pulled back and the brunet is taking a step back, distance created. He can’t imagine how they look, hates the glances they’re getting from the locals, from tourists lost in the area. Back hits the wall of the building and he’s breathing in, chest expanding as he tries to calm himself. Arthur pulls his sweater up and over his head, plain shirt underneath being dragged along with it. Dropped back down and Oscar is averting his gaze, is staring down at his trainers. Peak avoidance and he’d like to think he’s done well to hide his own anxieties, brief bouts of panic only shown behind closed doors, away from any camera.
“Here, put this on at least.” Red, light grey sweatshirt held up, and it’s bright, vivid in color.
Oscar shivers and hates the soft, concerned look he’s being given. Arms securely locked over his chest, closed off body language and he doesn’t know how to move. Tense line of his back, of being cold, of misunderstandings and he feels like banging his head against the wall behind him. Stupid antics and he should have just gone with it, should have openly flirted and laughed about it later.
“Truth or dare,” He breathes, head spinning from the wine and too little food.
Arthur stares at him, sweater still in hand, held between them.
“...truth...?”
Lips press together and Oscar visibly shivers, knows that it’s not from the ambient air. He lets out an exhale, held breath finally escaping him, world spinning and he’s shaking from nerves, from admission bubbling up in his throat.
“Were you honest earlier? When I lied?” Brown eyes focused on the sweater and he doesn’t look up, watch as it’s lowered, held at Arthur’s side.
“I already told you I was?”
Oscar hums, and the words bounce around in his head, adding to the jumbled mess of his mind. He turns, is starting to walk again when he’s caught, an arm around his waist and he’s being physically hauled back. Pulled around the corner, into a pocket of shadows between the buildings and the sweater is pressed against his chest.
“Truth or dare?” Arthur says, clipped tone and he’s annoyed sounding.
Arms uncurl and Oscar is taking the warm material, body heat and faint scent of cologne and his hands are shaking. Too much like prerace jitters and he needs to remind himself that this is nothing, that he’ll take corners at 80 kilometers an hour if not more. Limits constantly being pushed, and yet a conversation is harder then anything else he’s ever done.
“Truth,” Brunet breaths out, hates how even his voice is shaking now. Hands fumble with the sweatshirt, can’t seem to find the armholes before it’s taken from him, held open like he was a child. Brief hesitation and he’s sliding his arms in, wants to melt at the warmth of it, at how comforting it was.
“Who do you want to kiss?”
Sweatshirt pulled up and Oscar is helped into it, brief reprieve in the darkness before it’s pulled over his head. Material tugged down and his heads spinning, knees weak from close proximity. Emotional roller coaster before the first drop, the sense of lingering over the edge and it hits him hard. He feels like falling apart right then, bleeding heart laid out in the open for the world to see.
“T...truth, or-dare?” He stammers out, isn’t answering the question directed at him.
Hands tug at the hem of the sweatshirt, arms lost in the sleeves and Arthur is fitting it to him, hesitates. Fingers push lightly at the sleeves, gentle grip to Oscar’s wrist, to his hand and it’s reassuring, steady.
Fingers lace together.
“Dare.”
Brown eyes pull up, and he thinks his heart might beat right out of his chest.
“I dare you to kiss me.”
And Arthur does without hesitation.