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It starts with coffee.
Asher doesn't frequent downtown much, and so he'd had to call in a favour with Amanda to get a good recommendation, but the place itself looks decent - Italian, out of the way, authentic but still classy, and nice enough to make a good impression.
At least, he hopes it will. God, he hopes they’d been serious about liking coffee, too. They had seemed happy enough with the suggestion when he'd asked them, not offering any alternatives, but he also knows that that doesn't mean shit when you're asking someone out on a first date.
Maybe they didn't like coffee after all. Maybe they preferred tea and they'd just wanted to be polite. He doesn't think that they serve tea here, only coffee, and shit, what if he's fucked it up already-
Buzz.
His phone vibrates in his pocket, nearly sending him leaping a foot into the air - and he laughs at himself, smoothing his hands down his jeans -sweaty palms, Jesus, he is a mess- before he takes out his phone, checking the screen.
His heart skips a beat. It’s a new message from ‘Elevator Cutie ♥️’.
-Nearly there. Looking forward to coffee. 😊
God, they're so freaking cute. He can't stop the stupid smile that spreads across his cheeks, even as he's sure it makes him look like an idiot. So - they like coffee. This was going to go well. You've got this, Ash.
Taking a deep breath, he checks his reflection in the front window, running his hands through his hair one last time, before he heads inside to claim a table.
–
The date goes well. At least, he thinks it does.
There's a sweet smile on their lips as they join him at the table near the window, and their grey eyes are bright, as arresting as they had been the last time he'd seen them in the harsh fluorescents of the elevator. They look good - fashionable and well put-together, each piece carefully matched with the rest to complete the look, and he’s thankful that he’d let Milo pick out his shirt, a close-fitting button down that complements his eyes. Even if he had made the choice to pair it with jeans.
(That's a mistake he won’t be making again.)
They order a macchiato and a small rolled up pastry filled with cream that they share with him when he asks them about it. It's sweet and delicious, and he makes a fucking mess of it, cream smearing on his cheek, but somehow, they find it endearing, offering him a napkin as they hide their smile behind their drink.
It's been a long time since he's been this worked up about a date. He cares how this goes, he realises; wants to make a good impression, maybe set a date for another. Every minute spent in their company just reinforces that fact, and so when he finishes his coffee - an americano, as the barista had emphasized with mild disdain - he orders another, reluctant to let this date draw to a close.
They're smart, and talented, with an eye for detail that means they never miss a beat, always ready with a quick remark or joke. They get his sense of humour, catching all of his obscure popular culture references - and they get him, in a way he hasn't really found before.
And they're so fucking cute.
After they finish their drinks and the check has been rung up, they collect their things, lingering on the cobblestones outside of the cafe, chatting about anything and everything. He doesn't think he's reading this wrong, but still, he's nervous as he finally builds up the courage to ask the question at the forefront of his mind.
"When can I see you again?"
At their surprised glance, he realises his mistake. Shit. That was - presumptuous. Too much. He backpedals immediately. "I mean- if you want to. Shit. I just - had a really good time, and I'd like to continue getting to know you."
He's usually better at this. It's not as if he hasn't been on dates before, many of them, it's just - this time, he'd felt something. Something more, almost like - a spark, as cliche at that was.
"I'm free tomorrow evening." There's a faint flush on their cheeks as they say it, although their grey eyes on him remain steady. "If you'd like to do dinner."
"Hell yeah." Their lips twitch into a smile, and he smiles back, helpless not to. "Your choice this time? I'm easy with anything."
Their smile grows until their eyes crease with it, as clear as glass in this light, and it's then that he realises how close they've gotten during the course of their conversation. He can feel the heat of them, radiating through their jacket.
"I'll text you the details."
There's a moment when they look back at him, and he holds their gaze, a tension sparking between them. Their grey eyes flicker between his, and they seem to be considering something, before they lean in and press their lips to his cheek, soft and warm, and ever so sweet.
The moment is brief, the sensation of their lips lingering even as they draw back, restoring some of the distance between them.
They offer him another smile, bright and honest, and his heartbeat thrums inside his chest, pounding a mile a minute. He can feel the heat in his cheeks, and he can’t help the grin that spreads across his face, even if it does - as David has told him so many times - make him look like an idiot.
"Thank you for a wonderful time. I’ll see you tomorrow."
“Tomorrow,” he agrees, watching as they turn and start heading down the street towards the subway entrance, their figure cutting a fine silhouette as they navigate the cobblestones. Holy shit.
It takes him at least a minute or so to remember that he also needs to take the subway, although maybe he’ll walk. He’s feeling a little hot under the collar, at the moment.
Besides, he’d had two coffees. David was going to find him insufferable.