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It seemed that Stede would forever be known as the guy who went on hundreds of dates, only for them to never stick. He didn’t know if it was a personality problem, or even the way he dressed (he quickly dismissed that last thought since his wardrobe was probably the more glamorous thing about him), but somehow he kept leaving the date with lighter pockets and a dejected sigh.
Lucius, his neighbor who was far too nosy for his own good, had been the one to suggest his most recent date for the night, but Stede had set low expectations for himself. Lucius was also the same person who suggested Stede keep a tally of how many failed dates he went on to one day submit to a Hall of Fame of some kind, so his credibility was a bit skewed.
Stede stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling length mirror in his bedroom, turning this way and that to examine his latest outfit concoction. He was experimenting with more pastel shades, but no less frilly or over the top. He wanted to leave a lasting impression on his dates—and it was a good conversation starter if things went stale.
“Do you think it’s too much?” Stede asked Lucius, who was sitting in his favorite spot by the window that had just the right amount of natural light during the day. There was also a steadily growing collection of succulents circling the apartment since it was Stede’s way of coping with his aforementioned lack of a love life. He had his coping mechanisms, and buying an excessive number of plants was one of them.
“I think it’s just enough,” Lucius called out, draping himself over the beige chair with too many colorful pillows thrown onto it. “Can I steal this chair for my own place?”
“No, it’s a one-of-a-kind item,” Stede replied, worrying over a crease in his jacket.
“Stede, you look fine. Go out with Nigel and buy another succulent afterward. I think I saw an open spot near the mantle.”
“You’re already saying that the date will go badly?”
Lucius shot him a look. “I’m just being realistic. You do have kind of a notorious track record.”
“Sounds kind of mean,” Stede grumbled to himself. “How did you meet this Badminton guy anyway?”
“Oh, I didn’t. He’s a co-worker of Pete’s, and the guy needed an out from this other thing his brother was having tonight. I kind of spaced out during all of the specifics. It’s difficult to listen to things I don’t care about.”
“Thanks, I’m glad you’re so supportive of me,” Stede said dryly.
Lucius stood from his spot and stretched like a cat in the air, popping his back and neck in one go. “You’re welcome. Now leave so I can steal your bourbon ice cream.”
“I don’t have any—“
“Don’t try and deny it, you’re a shit liar.”
Stede was going to try and argue, but gave up and grabbed whatever else he needed for the date and left. He knew when to give up against Lucius—and he also knew that he should’ve bought two pints of bourbon ice cream instead of one.
Stede was about fifteen minutes early for his date and settled at his usual spot at the bar as he waited. He sank into the bar stool and tried not to wilt onto the counter like a flower that had gone too long without adequate sunlight.
“Oh, no, who's the guy you’re stuck with tonight?” Ed, the head bartender at Blackbeard’s Bar & Grill, asked.
Stede lifted his head to see Ed already making his favorite drink: a simple, very overpriced glass of white wine. “I’m trying to remain positive tonight, Edward. Fortieth time’s the charm, as they say.”
Ed’s brows rose. “Fortieth?”
“I lost count a long time ago. That’s just a guess, I’m probably underestimating.”
“Hey, man, if this guy talks too much shit, I’ll be here to kick his ass out. Haven’t done that in a while, so I’m ready to go. Got my good boots on and everything.”
Stede laughed, habitually spinning his wine glass on the counter by the stem. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary, but I will certainly keep that in mind.”
It wasn’t too much longer before Nigel showed up, dressed more formally than Stede would have thought he would be, given the description Lucius provided earlier. He seemed to have a permanent scowl on his lips and was having a heated back and forth with the host, Izzy. Knowing Izzy, though, it could be his fault. The guy was prickly.
“Is that him?” Ed jerked a chin in the guy’s general direction.
Stede downed the rest of his glass for liquid courage. “Afraid so.”
“Good luck,” Ed scoffed. “I’ll be here if you need me.”
He slipped off of his seat and briefly patted Ed’s hand on the countertop reassuringly. “Thank you, Ed. Keep the drinks coming if you don’t mind.”
“Always,” he promised.
Stede took a deep breath and waved Nigel over to his usual table. It was nearest to the window and had a view of the boardwalk and the adjacent shoreline, which was sparkling with every cresting wave.
“I thought we would be going somewhere—nicer,” Nigel said as he sat down in the booth opposite Stede. “This place looks like where I would take my kid for his twelfth birthday party. If I had a kid, that is.”
“Would you like children one day?” Stede asked, trying not to keep a mental checklist of everything wrong about the guy.
“No, definitely not. They get snot and tears everywhere, and they're a bad investment.”
Stede was trying not to resemble a fish out of water with how his jaw dropped, but it was impossible. “A bad investment?”
“Think about it: the kids gotta eat and have all the newest clothes and electronics and all that junk. Don't get me started on college tuition, because that's a shit ton of money you'll never see again.“
“I see.” Stede glanced down at his menu, even though he always ordered the same thing and had the thing practically memorized.
Thankfully, one of the waiters, Oluwande, swung by their table and abruptly ended their discussion. “Stede, welcome back. Getting the usual I presume?”
“You’d be presuming correctly.” Stede beamed, folding his menu back up.
“Jim’s on the grill tonight, so I’ll make sure to ask if they can add in an extra order of fries for you. But you didn't hear that from me.” Oluwande winked.
“Of course, of course,” Stede chuckled. “Is Roach in as well?”
“Oh, no, he’s taking a ‘mini-vacation’ as he’s calling it. Apparently he’s—“
Nigel very loudly cleared his throat. “Aren’t you going to ask for my order or are you going to stand around and chit chat all night?”
Oluwande blinked once at him, then twice. His face then slipped into his best customer service smile as he asked, “What can I get you?”
“A number seven, but no lettuce, pickles, tomatoes—any toppings.”
“You just want the meat and the bun?”
“I just said that, didn’t I?”
Oluwande scribbled down his order in his notepad, although a bit more aggressive than usual. “Anything to drink?”
“Another white wine,” Stede said.
“A water is fine with me. Don’t restaurants always give out water? Did you forget or—“ Nigel started, lips curled like an animal rearing to attack.
“I’ll be right back with your drinks,”
Oluwande responded instead, his eyes subtly wishing Stede good luck as he made a quick escape back to the kitchen.
“The service around here is lousy, that’s for sure,” Nigel scowled, fretting over the folded cloth napkin in front of him. “Why did you even choose this place?”
“It’s one of my favorites,” Stede replied defensively. “It has an excellent view of the water and I happen to like the staff here. They all seem to treat me well enough.”
“That host is just—“
“That’s just how he is,” Stede replied, waving a dismissive hand.
“Not the best way to greet the customers if you ask me.”
“He’s not that bad of a guy, really.”
“He threatened to skin me as soon as I walked through the door,” Nigel hissed.
“He does that to everyone.”
“Again, terrible business plan.”
“I’m sorry, are you a restaurant critic? I don’t remember Lucius bringing that up.”
Oluwande returned with their drinks before he could answer, always a saving grace, and whispered to Stede about how Ed was about to break his second fork of the night. He was keeping an eye on them as promised, and although Stede’s booth was decently far from the bar, he could almost make out Ed’s left eye twitching.
“I’m fine,” Stede assured Oluwande. “Try to confiscate anything sharp from him, would you?”
“What are you two whispering about? Don’t you know that’s rude to do on a date?” Nigel interrupted.
“Yes, of course, I’m sorry. I believe we were talking about careers?”
Nigel stared into his water glass as if it were poisoned, even bringing it up to his nose to take an incredulous sniff. “I work in politics, mostly.”
“Oh.” Stede was beginning to regret asking. “How interesting.”
“I used to be in the military, but I was discharged for some reason or the other. Never figured that one out.”
“I could,” Stede muttered.
“What was that?”
“Nothing!” Stede took a much-needed sip of wine. “I’m an English teacher at the high school not too far from here. I’ve always adored reading as a kid—still do now, my library is one of my biggest accomplishments—and I always knew that I wanted to pursue teaching so here I am.”
“High school kids are the worst,” Nigel mimicked a gag.
“They’re not too terrible,” Stede disagreed. “The other day one of my kids—“
“When’s the food going to get here?”
Stede’s grip tightened on his glass. “It’ll be ready when it’s ready. They have other customers, you know.”
“I’m just saying, if their customer service is bad, they should at least make it up by having their food delivered quickly. Personally—“
And that was how Stede spent the next half hour listening to a nonsensical rant while trying to resist the urge to gouge out his eyes with his fork.
Nigel ended up leaving because of a ‘very important phone call’ and did not pay his portion of the meal, simply leaving without saying if he would return. Stede didn’t mind it as much as he should have, since he was just glad he could get the date over with and begin planning his next succulent purchase with another glass of white wine.
“Good thing that guy left or I would’ve had to kick him out,” Ed announced as soon as Stede stumbled back to the bar.
“I heard you broke two forks.”
“Three, actually.”
“And?”
Ed hesitated. “And one spoon.”
Stede smiled. “It’s like the great seafood debacle all over again.”
“Hey, there has only ever been one food fight in here and it wasn’t even that bad,” Ed argued.
“I would still call having to clean salmon from off of the ceiling a great debacle, Edward.”
“Psh, a little ceiling salmon never killed anyone.”
“Uh-uh, I’m sure,” Stede snorted behind a hand.
Ed resumed his task of serving up a few more lingering customers at the bar before sidling back up to Stede with a confident grin. Stede was going to ask why when he got his answer. “How about you go on a date with me? Right here, right now.”
Stede froze, his wine glass halfway tipped up to his lips. “Your shift isn’t over yet.”
“I know.”
“Wouldn’t the owner, Blackbeard, get mad if you cut work?”
“What? Oh, no, I’m Blackbeard.”
That made Stede’s head internally explode, as well as making him choke on air. “You’re Blackbeard?”
“Who did you think it was?“
“I don’t know, some mysterious stranger with a long beard and an eyepatch and probably walks around with a cane—“
Ed gestured to himself. “I’ve got a long beard and a bad knee if that counts. Don’t have the eye patch yet, but I’m sure if your date stayed a little longer then I would’ve needed one.”
Stede was still a little bit awestruck when he said, “I’ve been coming here for nearly six years and you never thought of bringing that up?”
“I thought you knew.”
“Really?”
“It’s obvious.”
“No, it’s—“
“It’s obvious!” Oluwande called out on his way back to the kitchen, slipping behind the swinging doors.
“Wow.” Stede sank back into his seat. “I’m an idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot.”
“Yes, I am.”
“A cute one, then.” Ed leaned over the counter. “So, still up for that date or what?”
Stede couldn’t resist another smile as his face steadily heated up. “What did you have in mind?”
“Succulent shopping?” Ed suggested.
“I don’t think I’ll be needing to get another one after this.” Stede delighted in the way Ed was now the one who was flustered and blushing, and it was a sight to see.
Stede woke up to a call from Lucius, and promptly rolled himself out from under Ed’s arm around his waist. “Hello?”
“How did the date go? What kind of succulent did you get?”
Stede gazed down at the man sleeping beside him, heavily tattooed and very, very warm. “I think the guy I’ve been looking for has been here all along.”
“Don’t tell me you slept with Nigel.”
“Definitely not.”
Ed murmured something in his half-asleep state, holding his out again for Stede to slip under.
“Sorry, Lucius, I have to go.”
“You finally got with that bartender, didn't you? Does he mind an obsessive amount of succulents? Does he have a good di—“
Stede hung up the phone and cuddled back up to his guy, watching as the rising sun spilled through his bedroom windows, illuminating every potted plant on the sills. It was definitely worth the wait.