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Exhausting your topics of conversation fifteen minutes into a date is never a good idea.
They've ordered their food, but the server's come back twice to apologize for the kitchen being backed up, and Seth realizes that they're going to be here for a while, and starts casting around mentally for something, anything to talk about. His date- Dean, that's the guy's name- looks bored, using his finger to plug the end of his straw, lifting it up out of his glass of iced tea before moving his finger and letting the liquid patter back into the glass.
He also looks familiar; it's been niggling at Seth since Dean walked in the door. Seth knows he's seen him before, somewhere, and he's been trying to figure it out. The silence spins out between them, and Dean starts fidgeting with his napkin, then spins his knife around on the surface of the table. Seth figures that there isn't going to be a second date, even though Dean is cute, because he, Seth, is so fucking boring he can't even think of a subject that isn't the weather, and that only happens in sitcoms.
They've talked about sports; Dean is a Bengals fan, and Seth supports the Bears, so that was a dead-end. They've talked about movies; Dean likes superhero films, Seth likes spy movies, and they've only seen three of the same films. He tried to talk about TV, but Dean admits he doesn't watch many shows. Another dead end.
Dean doesn't like baseball, doesn't do Crossfit, and they can only talk about workouts and diet for so long. Dean doesn't play any of the same video games as Seth. Seth doesn't like hockey. He feels like screaming, or pulling out his phone to demand of their mutual friends why thought this was a good idea when he and Dean seemed to have nothing in common. And then Dean points at the poster on the window they're sitting next to, and says he went to that event last year.
"Oh, the Renaissance Faire? Yeah, me too." Dean doesn't look like a Renaissance Faire kind of guy, and then it clicks. Seth bangs his hand on the table. "That's where I remember you from! Didn't you give me a handjob?"
He realizes he's said that a little too loudly when the middle-aged couple at the table next to them turns to stare, and he reddens. Dean is smirking at him, and Seth feels like sticking his tongue out at him, but resists. He's almost twenty-nine, after all.
"What do you mean, which one? How many guys did you give handjobs to?" Seth demands and Dean shrugs.
"Four, I think? I dunno, I went with a friend who wanted to take his daughter. Ale and wenches, you know how it is. I got bored after the jousting."
"Roman?" Seth asks, but he thinks wenches? What the hell are we doing here, then? But Dean had propositioned him last year, so clearly he wasn't exclusively into wenches. Seth wonders what the term for a male wench is, and decides on menches before he notices Dean is talking to him.
"Yeah." Dean nods. "Captain "Oh Hey, I Know A Guy You Might Like, He Works At The Coffeeshop I Go To And We Play Pool On Thursdays"."
"Right, he's mentioned you before. Like, before he mentioned you, uh… for this." Seth motions between them, feeling like an idiot. Looks like Dean really is bored; he didn't sound very happy with Roman. "Sorry he hooked you up with such a boring guy."
"Nah," Dean says, leaning back. "First dates are always weird, y'know, gotta feel the other person out. Although I guess I already felt you up, so…"
"I don't usually just let dudes rub me off behind the ale tent," Seth defends himself. "My brother has weird ideas of fun." He puts his face into his hand. "That did not come out the way I intended it."
But at least Dean is laughing now, and not just staring at the ice in his glass.
"I got your drift," he tells Seth, who is still blushing, and kicks him under the table. "If it makes you feel better, you're the only dude I actually remembered. Like, specifically. The hair."
Seth touches the blond side and smiles. "Most people seem to remember the hair."
"Mine's not that memorable," Dean says, yanking his fingers through his unruly curls and messing them up even more. "Maybe I should dye it again."
"Blue?" Seth suggests, and Dean barks out a laugh.
"Well, it was pink at one point."
"Why pink?"
"Because I was twenty-two and it seemed like a good idea at the time." Dean makes a face at the memory. "Funky hair dye isn't really my thing, I guess. Looks good on you though."
"Thanks. I don't know what I was thinking either, but I like it, so I kept it." Seth unconsciously touches his hair again, which makes Dean grin.
He's cute when he does that.
"That's how I got my cat," he informs Seth. "He showed up and I liked him, so I kept him."
"I thought cats kept you. That's what the internet leads me to believe."
Dean shrugs. "I let him think so." And he honest-to-God winks at Seth, so maybe there will be a second date.
Seth will settle for another handjob, though.
He remembers the last one well, Dean's hand shoved down the front of Seth's pants, his face buried in Seth's neck, panting and rutting against him as Seth's fingers scrabble against the canvas of the tent. He remembers trying to keep quiet, praying that no one walks around the corner and sees them like this, and he remembers coming hard enough to see stars, before Dean's hand is withdrawn and he's gone, leaving behind the smell of cologne and leather, and a bite mark on Seth's collarbone that takes over a week to fade.
Dean's foot nudges him back to the present, and Seth meets his eyes. "Sorry, I was thinking."
"About?" Dean's smirking at him, he fucking knows, Seth's sure of it, and Seth nods at the poster. "Ahh. Maybe I am memorable."
"Definitely memorable." Seth taps his fingers on the laminate table top and decides, what the hell, he's gonna go for it. He motions to the poster with his head again. "You wanna go?"
"To the faire?"
"Yeah. I mean, if you're not doin anything else next weekend."
Dean contemplates his fork for a moment. "Is this a date or do you just want another go behind the ale tent?"
"Can I answer "both"? Because it's both. But mostly the first thing."
"Ale and wenches, sure," Dean agrees. He seems oddly disappointed though, and Seth wonders if maybe answering "both" wasn't a great idea.
"Hey, I mean it, about mostly the first thing, you know. Kinda think I want to get to know you better."
"People think that, until they get to know me," Dean mutters, and he seems distracted now. He visibly shakes himself and brings his attention back to Seth. "Sorry. Kind of a moody fucker."
It's not quite an apology. Seth thinks it's more like a warning, actually. "I'm sort of high-maintenance myself," he admits, so Dean doesn't feel so awkward.
It works; Dean smiles at him, and Seth thinks that it's a nice smile, more warm than the grins he's gotten so far. The dimples seem more genuine, somehow, and Seth smiles back. "Cool. It's a date then."
Their food arrives, then, and they fall silent for a few minutes, before Dean looks up at him and says,"Just so you know, that second thing? That'll probably also happen."
Seth chokes on his salad, and Dean has to lean over to pound him on the back, and once Seth can breathe again, his eyes watering, he realizes that they've finally found something they have in common.