Archive of Our Own

“We should go on a date.”

Oluwande looked up from his phone and squinted at Jim, who lay sprawled across the other end of the sofa, legs taking up the space between them. “… you feelin’ alright there? Could’ve sworn I heard you say we should go on a date.”

Jim scowled and kicked lightly at his side, the scowl only deepening when Oluwande caught their ankle in one hand. “I’m serious.”

“… right. Okay.” Oluwande put the phone down and turned on the couch, facing them properly. He squeezed their ankle, let their foot settle in his lap. The other would probably join soon, and then Jim would give him puppy dog eyes until he gave in and massaged their feet. Just going by previous occurrences, of course. “Why should we go on a date?”

“It’s what normal people do, isn’t it?” They crossed their arms, slouching deeper into the sofa and ducking their head, until all Oluwande could make out beneath the brim of their trucker hat was the thin line of their mouth. “We should – y’know. Do that.”

“Go on dates?”

“No. Well. Yes. But like.” They huffed. “We should try and be normal.”

Oluwande wrinkled his nose. “That sounds fuckin’ awful, mate. Try and be normal? Really?”

Jim’s other foot kicked him in the stomach. He caught that one too, settling it in his lap and rubbing at their ankles when they didn’t draw away.

“Like don’t get me wrong,” he continued, “I’d fucking love to go on a date with you. You’re fucking great.” Jim glanced up at him from beneath the brim of their hat, and he swore he could see a bit of pink dusting their cheeks. “But we don’t have to go on a date because it’s what normal people do. I love our relationship as it is.”

Jim started chewing on a cuticle. “… maybe it would be fun to try. The date thing. Not the - normal thing. Y’know?”

He nodded. He thought he understood. “Yeah. Yeah, alright. Let’s do it.”

They planned the date together. Mainly because when Oluwande suggested that Jim plan it, they got a panicked look on their face and blurted out “I’ve never been on a fucking date before, don’t make me plan this by myself –“

And when Jim suggested that Oluwande plan it, he wrinkled his nose at them. “No offense, but I don’t really want to plan something that you might not be comfy with for a first date.”

So they ended up writing a list – Oluwande’s idea, that, even if it made Jim roll their eyes and snort about how much he loved making lists (so sue him, lists were fucking helpful) – full of potential date ideas, and then crossing most of them out. That place was too expensive, that idea too cheesy. Another three places were crossed off the list because one or both of them – or hell, the whole fucking lot of their friend group – had been banned for ‘rowdy behaviour’. Or knives. Or both.

They wanted someplace easy, affordable, and most of all – low key. Which absolutely did not fucking explain why they ended up agreeing to go to Blackbeard’s Bar and Grill (and Gift Shop) for their first fucking date.

“At least it’ll be cheap,” Jim said, squinting down at the list. All items had been crossed off save for the bar. And really, maybe part of the problem was that they lived in a terrible tourist trap of a town, and there really wasn’t much to do that wasn’t tacky, expensive, or both. And the bar wasn’t that tacky. At least, not in comparison to the rest of their options. “Stede’s employee discount is fucking ridiculous. And if we go on Sunday then Lucius won’t be working.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s an absolute must. God, can you imagine if he realized?” Oluwande shook his head. “He’d be insufferable.”

Jim nodded. “I can check the schedule, make sure there’s no one on who’d make it weird.”

“Thanks, mate.” Oluwande turned the list towards him, fingertips brushing against Jim’s. “Right. So. Dinner – then a walk on the beach, maybe? Since the boardwalk is right there.”

Jim wrinkled their nose and made a deeply disgruntled noise. “Fuck, do we have to? That sounds romantic. Ugh.” 

Oluwande grinned, something warm spreading through his chest. He reached out and tapped the brim of their hat, feeling so ridiculously fond. “And this is why we’ve never gone on a date before.”

Jim scowled and flipped him off. “Fine. We can go for a walk on the fucking beach.” They paused for a moment, cocked their head to the side. “… if we wait until it’s dark we can go skinny dipping.”

“Now that,” Oluwande said, grin growing wider, “is an excellent fucking plan.”

“… should we dress up?”

“Hmm?”

“For the date.” Jim scrubbed harder at the dish in their hand, scowling like the dried on bits of rice had personally insulted them. “People dress fancy for dates, don’t they?”

Oluwande shrugged and put another dish away, dried to a satisfactory albeit not excellent degree. “Sometimes, sure. Depends on the sort of date they want to go on, I suppose.”

Jim’s scowl deepened. So maybe not the rice that was insulting them, then. “… what sort of date do you want it to be?”

“The kind where you and I eat good food and have fun,” he said, keeping his tone cheerful. “Honestly, I couldn’t care less otherwise.” He flicked his towel at them, grinning when they dodged and cursed. “Any date with you will be great.”

Jim ducked their head, but not fast enough to hide their smile. “And if I want it to be a fancy date?”

“Then I’ll put on my fanciest tie. I’ll even wear real pants, just for you.”

“No shorts?” Jim teased, putting a soapy hand to their chest as if in shock. “Such sacrifice!”

“Sacrifices must be made for a fancy date.” He dropped the false solemnity and half-turned towards them, accepting the next clean dish to dry. “Besides, then I’ll get to see you in a tie, and that’s fuckin’ worth any amount of dressin’ up, mate.”

Jim, as they always did when flustered, kicked half-heartedly at him. “Shut up.”

“Oh no, you’re the one that started talkin’ about dressing fancy, I will not be shutting up, thank you very much. You’re handsome as hell, like all the fucking time, and you know how a good tie makes me weak at the knees –“

“Dios, you’re the worst –“ but they looked so pleased, a bashful grin spreading across their face, that he never wanted to stop. “Besides, no one will notice me when I’ve got the most beautiful man in town at my side. And in real pants, no less? They’ll all be looking at you.”

It was his turn to look down, then, warmth flooding his cheeks and chest. “Christ, I take it back.”

Jim cackled. “Two can play that game, hermoso.”  But they slid closer, pressing up against his side. When he turned his head to look at them, they reached up, pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. “You really are very lovely. You know?”

Oluwande smiled, and just knew that it was far too soft. “So you keep telling me.”

Jim lingered for a moment, eyes crinkling at the edges, before they cleared their throat and pulled away. “Fancy date it is, then.”

A date was set, discarded, set again. They chose a Sunday a week and a half out, as discussed, to keep it quiet, and because they both had the following Monday off.

“If we’re doing this, we’d damn well better be able to drink at it,” Jim had grumbled, right before they pitched their voice into something hard and low and called in a reservation under the name James. When Oluwande stared at them, face feeling a little too warm, they’d scowled, then snapped at him as soon as the phone call was done. “What? You know I said we couldn’t make the reservation under our names –“

“Um.” Oluwande swallowed. “You voice. That was incredibly fucking hot. Like it's always incredibly hot but -”

The scowl turned into a slow smirk, Jim’s eyes going liquid warm. “Oh yeah?” They stood and stalked across the room, leaning over him, voice dropping into that hard tone again. “You like this, eh guapo?”

“Jesus christ yes –“

They didn’t get more planning done that night.

Days passed, quick, then slow, then quick again. And suddenly date night was there.

They spent the morning like any other. Lazy in bed, then splitting off to do their own things. Jim headed for their gym, the cheapest one in town that still had free weights, while Oluwande baked muffins that would act as breakfast for the rest of the week. He tried not to focus too hard on the date that evening, tried not to let the anticipation settle into nervousness. Even so, he couldn’t ignore the fact that both of them had chosen classic activities that they knew would settle them. He baked, Jim lifted weights and ran, until neither of them felt the thrum of anxiety.

“You’re being stupid,” he muttered to himself, poking a blueberry muffin to tell see if it was done. “It’s just a date with Jim. Jim, who you’ve been best friends with for like, ages, and who you’ve been dating for like, eight months.”

The pep talk only helped a little bit. The baking helped more. And, if he was being honest, he didn’t mind the nerves so much, even if they felt silly. It was the good sort of nerves, the sort that felt like the start of a new adventure.

And when Jim came home, sweaty and far more relaxed than they’d been when they left – something settled in him.

“Love you,” he murmured, passing them a fresh muffin and pressing a kiss to their forehead. “Gross, you’re all sweaty.”

Jim snorted. “And yet you still chose to kiss me.” They took a bite of the muffin, then pressed up to smudge a crumb-covered kiss to his mouth. “Love you too.”

Two hours later and they were getting ready. Well, they were trying, anyway.

"You can't see me before the date!" Oluwande shouted through the bathroom door, dabbing cologne on his throat. "It's tradition!"

"For fuck's sake, this is not a goddamn wedding," Jim shouted back. "I know you’d make the prettiest bride in the whole goddamn world, but it’s just a fucking date!” They banged on the door. “And I have anxiety bladder, so let me the fuck in!"

Oluwande looked down at the sink, a smile spreading across his face. God, they were such a flatterer. “Can’t you wait like, two minutes?”

“Olu –“

“Fine, fine –“

Rolling his eyes, Oluwande obediently opened the door, fully expecting Jim to barge in. But instead they got one step through the door, then froze. They stared at him, gaze sweeping slowly down his body before settling back on his face.

“Um.” Oluwande fought not to fidget. “Everything alright?”

“Holy fuck, Olu. You look –“ Jim swallowed and flailed a hand towards him. “Dios. You’re so fucking handsome.”

“Oh.” He looked down at himself, the smile creeping back. It was silly how much he liked hearing that from them, how much it made his heart swell. He didn’t think he was wearing anything all that special – just a new button up shirt, and a dark grey vest he’d had forever. Jeans completed the ensemble, the nicest pair he owned. “You like it?”

Jim nodded, eyes still wide and staring. “Yeah. I like it a lot. That’s – it’s a new shirt, isn’t it.” They reached out a hand, then wrapped it around their own wrist instead. “And it’s – you’re wearing teal.”

He grinned. “It’s your favourite colour, innit?”

They all but flew across the last foot of space between them, dragging him down into a furious kiss. Oluwande laughed and kissed them back, caught up in their fire like he always was.

“If I didn’t have to pee so bad I’d fuck you right here and now,” Jim muttered against his mouth. They deepened the kiss, then drew back, mouth red, eyes blown. “Christ. You’re so hot.”

“Thanks.” Oluwande couldn’t stop grinning. “You too, mate.” He looked down at them, barely resisting the urge to take them up on the offer. All they were wearing was their boxers and binder, and a fully open black button up, a look that he definitely thought they should recreate at a later date. “Think the restaurant might have a problem with you not wearin’ pants there, though.”

“I can’t find the jeans I wanna wear.” Jim kissed him again, just as hard. “We can skip it, right? We can just stay here –“

Oluwande pulled their hands gently off his face. “Jim. We’ve been planning this for like, weeks. You can jump my bones later, yeah?” When they grumbled he pushed them towards the toilet. “Besides, you have to pee, and it’s not fucking fair if you get to see me in a shirt and vest but I don’t get to see you in a tie.”

“Fine. Fine!” Jim threw up their hands. “We’ll do the fancy fucking date.”

Oluwande grinned, then turned around. “You pee, I’ll go find your jeans.”

“Thank you,” Jim yelled after him. “The dark blue ones without any rips. They’re not under the bed, I already looked.”

“Yeah, I know the ones!”

He found their jeans in the dresser. Because of course he did.

“I still can’t believe they were in the dresser,” Jim muttered, shifting their truck into gear. “Who puts jeans in the dresser?”

They were on their way to the restaurant, all decked out in their somewhat fancy clothes. Jim had finally finished dressing, and looked truly devastating in their black button down and jeans, and the dark orange tie that he’d bought them last year. They’d let him fawn over them for exactly thirty seconds before shoving him towards the door and saying that if they didn’t go now, they’d be late, mainly because they’d be too busy fucking to go. 

“I do. At least that pair.” He grinned at the look Jim gave him. “That’s why they’re your nice pair. You like, never wear them, because I put them in the dresser. Which you don’t use, because apparently the floor of the closet is better.”

“It is. I never have any trouble finding things when they go there, do I?”

“You lost your favourite binder in there like, two days ago –“

“That was one time –“

Oluwande laughed. “Mate, you’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jim slipped their hand off the gear shift, reaching over to twine their fingers together. It wouldn’t last – it couldn’t, since their old piece of shit truck was standard, and shifting gear while holding hands was generally more inconvenient than it was worth – but it was still nice. “Besides. What do I need to use the dresser for, when you’re there to help me look?”

Sentiments like that from Jim always made something warm and precious curl up in his chest. He wanted to be there to help them find their trousers for years and years and years to come.

He squeezed their hand, let his voice dip into a teasing tone rather than the sappy sincerity he wanted to adopt. Now, with pre-date anxiety so high, might not be the time for it. “Oh, now I get it. You’re just keeping me around for my ability to find your pants.”

“And your ability to help me lose them,” Jim sniped back, waggling their eyebrows suggestively. The grin they gave at his laughter was – wonderful. Just truly lovely.

Jim pulled into the parking lot of Blackbeard’s Bar and Grill (and Gift Shop). They parked with as much care as they always did – which is to say, not much – in the back of the lot beside the old jeep that meant Edward was here. That was good, he wouldn’t tease them about this. At least not as much as some of the others.

Well, on second thought, maybe he just wouldn’t even know they were there. That would be best.

Jim turned off their truck. They both sat there, staring at the restaurant. Butterflies gathered in Oluwande’s stomach.

“Well.” Jim cleared their throat, settled their hand back on the steering wheel. “Here we are.”

“Yup.”

Silence. Oluwande looked at Jim. Their hands were white knuckled on the steering wheel, their jaw clenched tight.

“Hey.”

Jim jerked, whipping around to stare at him.

“We don’t have to do this,” he said softly. “We can turn around, yeah? It’s not too late.”

They exhaled. Loosened their grip on the steering wheel, reached for his hand instead.

“No. I want to. I’m just – nervous.” They laughed, dragged a hand through their hair. “Which is stupid. It’s just you.”

“I’m nervous too,” he admitted. He turned towards them. “Look. If it’s terrible and awkward then we get takeout and go eat it on the beach, yeah? Pick up some cheap beer and go skinny dipping.”

Jim laughed. “Fuck, that sounds great. We should’ve planned that as our date in the first place.”

“Next time. Or this time, if it’s horrible.”

They nodded. The smile that they gave him felt – shy, almost. “… I’m sure it’ll be okay.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, butterflies fluttering for an entirely different reason. “Yeah, I hope so.”

“Right.” Jim took a deep breath, then let go of his hand. “Let’s fucking do this.”

The trick to not having their coworkers make a huge deal about Jim and Oluwande having a date was, in Oluwande’s opinion, a matter that could be solved by three key factors.

One, timing. Sunday evening dinner, when Lucius and Pete were both supposed to be off, with a table reserved under a slightly different name at the height of the evening rush. Ideally, everyone who was working would be too busy to pay them any mind. Jim had specifically asked for a little table that was hidden away in the back, and that would help, too.

Two, confidence. Walk in like they owned the place, and like they were used to going on fancy dates with each other. Be cool, and calm, and collected. Oluwande wasn’t sure that either of them were pulling this part off. Oh, Jim was cool, and calm, and collected. But not in the ‘I am at ease’ sort of way. Moreso in the ‘everything about me screams murder’ sort of way. Which he really should have expected, because it was their go-to when they were nervous. As for himself, well. He was both sweating and stuttering just a bit too much to seem cool calm and collected.

Which came to the third point – bribery.

“You’re not supposed to be working tonight,” the Swede said when he saw them. “At least you are not on the schedule?”

Oluwande shook his head and smiled nervously. “Nah. We’re here for dinner. Reservation is under James.”

“Oh?” The Swede looked down at his list, then back up at both of them, eyes growing wider. He leaned over the host’s stand, voice a loud stage whisper. “Oh my. Are you here for a date? You both look very fancy.”

Jim glowered. Oluwande leaned in close, held out a ten dollar bill. “Keep it quiet and we’ve got another twenty bucks for you after we pay the bill.”

The Swede grinned, showing off the gap tooth he still hadn’t gotten fixed, even though Stede kept encouraging him to make use of their good dental plan. “No one will know a thing.”

“See?” Oluwande whispered as they slid into the booth Jim had requested, the one out of sight of the kitchen and most of the restaurant. Only the Swede and their server, whoever it was – hopefully Frenchie, who was a good sort, and who could just as easily be bribed as the Swede – would ever know. “This’ll be great.”

Jim glanced around, then nodded, shoulders relaxing. Their foot pressed against his under the table. “Yeah. You were right.”

And then it all went to shit. 

“Hello, good evening, and welcome to Blackbeard’s Bar and Gri- oh. It’s you two.”

Oluwande stared at their server. Lucius, in all his gossipy glory, stared back, customer service smile dropping into something more genuine.

“What’re you doing here? Come for dinner?”

Jim’s boot nailed Oluwande in the shin. He coughed, tried to smile. “Uh, yeah. Didn’t want to eat at home tonight, y’know?” he laughed awkwardly. “Didn’t think you uh – usually worked Sundays.”

“Oh, yeah, Frenchie got sick, it’s a whole thing.” Lucius waved a hand at the kitchen as though that explained everything. “Got called in.” He looked them over, brows knitting together. Then the smile on his face turned into a shit-eating grin. “Wait. You’re all fancy tonight.” He leaned in closer, eyebrows waggling, and Oluwande was very, very glad that he’d talked Jim out of carrying their knives tonight. “Are you on a date?”

“No,” Jim gritted out, hand creeping towards their cutlery. “We’re just having dinner, like normal ass people -”

“You are!” Lucius laughed delightedly. “Oh my god, you came here on a date? Ed’s going to fucking love this –“

Oluwande reached across the table and grabbed Jim’s hand before they could grab their butter knife and make do with it.

“We’re trying to keep it quiet,” he said, giving Lucius his most pointed smile. “And we would really, really appreciate if you didn’t tell Ed.”

“Right. Sure, yeah, no.” Lucius laughed again. “Definitely won’t tell Stede either. Fuck, he’s going to love this even more than Ed will.”

Oluwande groaned. “Fuck, they’re both here? Doesn’t Stede have his kids today?”

“Nope,” Lucius said, popping the word. “They’re on a family camping trip.”

Oluwande shot Jim a desperate look, then gave Lucius his best puppy dog eyes. “Look, mate, if you don’t tell them we’ll tip really well –“

“Not a chance in hell.” Lucius laid two menus on the table, even though neither Oluwande nor Jim needed them, grin vicious as a shark sensing blood in the water. “You know how long its been since we’ve had something fun happen here? Everyone deserves to see you two looking handsome as hell.”

“I have a better offer,” Jim said, voice threatening, “don’t tell them and I won’t gut you like a fish, hombrecito.”

Lucius leaned one hand on the table and batted his eyelashes. “So flirtatious when Oluwande is right there, Jim –“

“Motherfucker –“

Jim moved. Oluwande moved too, just managing to grab their wrist before they scooped up their butterknife.

“Right, Lucius, time for you to go get us some drinks!” he laughed awkwardly, grimacing apologetically at Jim. “Jim – whiskey?”

They growled, baring their teeth at Lucius, half-heartedly trying to twist their wrist out of Oluwande’s grip. If they really wanted to, they would have, but they didn’t, which was a good sign. He hoped.

“Sí. On the rocks.”

Lucius still hadn’t moved back form the table, the overconfident idiot. He just grinned and nodded, scribbling on his pad of paper. “Whiskey, right. Beer for you, Olu?”

“Please. Whatever the IPA on tap is.”

“We’ve got that mango one you like? Just came in Friday.”

“Perfect. And water for both of us.”

Lucius tapped the table and winked. “Of course, loves. Back in a jiff.”

As soon as he was safely out of view Oluwande loosened his grip on Jim’s wrist. They glowered, but let him take rub his thumb lightly over their pulsepoint, relaxing gradually at the touch.

“I told you that you should have let me kill him ages ago,” they muttered, pulling out of his grip only to slip their hand into his palm. “El entrometido hijo de puta.”

“We like Lucius,” Oluwande reminded them. He frowned. “At least. Most of the time. Maybe not tonight.”

Jim gave him big puppy dog eyes. “It would be just a little stabbing, Olu. I could even leave him alive if you really want.”

Oluwande grinned, squeezing their hand. “Think Pete and Stede might have a problem with it.”

“Fine, fine.”

“However…”

One of Jim’s eyebrow’s raised.

“I definitely, absolutely won’t say no to planning a prank. Y’know. As payback.”

Jim laughed. And really, that was all he wanted. To make them happy with this whole date thing.

“I like the way you think, Mister Boodhari.” They leaned back, still keeping their hands entwined. “Got any ideas?”

“Well…”

At first, it seemed like maybe it would be fine. Lucius returned shortly with drinks and took their order, promising that he wouldn’t let Stede add anything ‘new and fun’ to their food. For nearly ten glorious minutes, they had privacy. And it was nice. Really nice. Good drinks, and Jim grinning widely when he laughed at one of their jokes –

Then Jim’s face soured at something over Oluwande’s shoulder. “Mierda, Stede’s coming.” They slouched into their seat, half-hiding behind one hand. “Oh my fucking god he has candles.”

“You’re not serious –“ Oluwande glanced over his shoulder, staring in horror at Stede, who was striding toward their table with two lit candles. Not nice, plain, white candles. No, fucking gold candles, on gleaming stands.

“Hi all!” Stede beamed at both of them, attempting a wave before aborting it when the candle in his hand threatened to tip over. “Whoops, better set these down before I set the place on fire, eh?”

“Uh, hi Stede,” Oluwande said, giving him a weak smile, and trying not to stare too hard at the way Stede’s sleeve nearly dipped into the open flame of the candle after he set it down. “Wow, uh, those candles sure are something.”

Stede nodded eagerly. “Aren’t they? We were all out of red ones, so the gold will have to do.”

“Well, if there aren’t red ones, then maybe we should just not have candles at all,” Jim said, voice deadpan. “Gold is too fancy for the likes of us.”

“Nonsense!” Stede cried. “You lovebirds deserve nice candles on your date!”

Oluwande could feel Jim’s cringe from across the table. Probably because he was cringing too.

“Right,” he said, trying to laugh. “They’re – real nice. Thanks Stede.”

Stede beamed even harder. “Oh, my pleasure.” He leaned in over the table, voice dropping conspiratorially. “And I must say, the two of you look very dashing. Quite the handsome couple!”

Oluwande wondered if it was possible to hear Jim’s teeth gnash over the music. He reached across the table and took their hand before they could grab the table knife again. And then regretted it, when Stede made an odd sort of cooing sound. Fucking hell.

“Wore our finest for the nicest date place in town! Ha. Ha.”

If Stede noticed the fakeness of Oluwande’s laugh he didn’t comment. He just nodded, then clapped Oluwande on the shoulder. Wise, not going for Jim. They’d have taken his hand off at the wrist.

“Well, I’ll just leave you two to your romance!”

“I can kill him,” Jim said, watching Stede swirl back through the room. “Right? It’d be fine. Ed’s a better boss anyway.”

“Not without Stede he isn’t,” Oluwande muttered, letting go of their hand and draining half his beer. “Remember that time they broke up for like two days? Absolutely miserable.”

Jim groaned. “Fuck, why are you always right.”

“It’s a curse,” Oluwande said miserably. “A terrible, horrible curse.”

“Could kill them both,” Jim suggested, eyes lighting up. “No Stede, and no miserable Ed.”

“Unfortunately, we do need rent money.”

Jim screwed up their face in thought. “So, we get Stede to put you in his will first, and then we kill him.”

“What! Why me?”

“It has to be you, you’re way nicer.”

“Ed likes you better than me,” Oluwande said, grinning. “Calls you his friend and everything. Bet you could get on his will before I could get on Stede’s.”

Neither of them bothered to acknowledge that Stede and Edward most likely had a joint will. It was beside the point.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Dios, all you’d need to do is give Stede puppy dog eyes and tell him you’ve always seen him as a father figure and he’d cave.”

“Yeaaah. You’re probably right.” Oluwande picked up the candles and moved them further down the table, where they were less likely to be tipped over if Jim lunged for a knife. “Maybe we shouldn’t kill our friends, though? Just maybe.”

“Ugh.” Jim flopped back in their seat and took another sip of whiskey. “Friendship was a mistake.”

Five minutes later Lucius returned, carrying appetizers they hadn’t ordered.

“Roach made them special for you. And they’re on the house,” he said with a salacious wink, before floating away.

Jim and Oluwande stared at the plate of deep fried mac and cheese bites sitting between them. The heart shaped mac and cheese bites, to be precise, which were nested on a beautiful pink napkin, with a small bowl of ketchup sitting beside it.

“What the fuck,” Jim said flatly. They picked up one of the bites, glaring at the heart-shaped piece of deep fried cheesy goodness. “Fucking hearts?”

“The ketchup is red for loooove,” Lucius called, from somewhere in the distance. Oluwande gave him the finger over his shoulder, not even bothering to turn around.

“Ketchup is always red,” he muttered. “It’s not like they fucking dye it special for Valentines day.”

Jim bit savagely into one of the mac and cheese bites. “Fuck it. Free food is free food.”

“… Roach is now on your hit list too, isn’t he.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

And then it was as if the floodgates had opened. The liquor they’d ordered got consumed quickly, and when they asked for another round of beer, what got delivered instead were pink and red fruity cocktails, complete with cherry garnish and pink salt around the rim.

“Wee John sends his love,” Lucius said gleefully when he dropped them off. “Also he wants to know what you think of them, he’s practicing for Valentine’s.”

“Valentine’s day isn’t for another six fucking months,” Jim hollered after him. “Jodidamente ridículos, sois todos unos jodidos pendejos.”

“Every day is Valentine’s day when you’re in love!” Lucius called, before turning to the family waving him down. “Oh, yes, of course I can get you more water – well, the pink drinks are off-menu specials for our resident lovebirds, but yes, I can definitely ask our bartender to make you something –“

Jim seethed. “I’m going to kill –“

“All of them,” Oluwande finished. “They deserve it, frankly.” He picked up the pink monstrosity and took a sip. “… okay, wow, that’s strong.”

“Oh thank Christ.” Jim grabbed theirs, finishing half of it in one long swallow. “Think if we get plastered this’ll go faster?”

Oluwande raised his drink in a toast, clinking it gently against Jim’s. “Only one way to find out.”

It felt like barely five minutes had passed before Lucius was back, carrying a platter with their food. And right behind him, a shit-eating grin on his face, was Edward.  

“Not you too,” Oluwande groaned. “C’mon, haven’t we suffered enough?”

“Nonsense, mate,” Edward said cheerfully, holding out yet another set of candles, this time in a gleaming white. “Got to celebrate your love, don’t we?”

“You make it sound like we’re fucking engaged,” Jim muttered, bristling in a way that made Oluwande worry that this had tipped into ‘no longer fun’ territory.’ “And we’ve already got fucking candles.”

Edward frowned at the gold monstrosities on the table. “Shit, did Stede bring those out? Told him I wanted to do candles!”

Lucius slid plates of food in front of them. True to form, there were little hearts drawn in sauce on Oluwande’s plate beside his tilapia, and a little flag with something that looked like a quote from The Princess Bride scribbled on it, declaring the virtues of ‘twu wuv.’ There was also a mini pride flag, which, okay, that was sort of cute. Jim’s face contorted, and he was sure their plate bore similar embellishments.

“Isn’t too many candles a fire hazard?” Oluwande asked. “Maybe you could, y’know, just take them back?”

“Bullshit,” Edward said. The grin returned. “You’ll just be twice as bright, my brilliant young employees.”

“I hate you,” Jim told him, “you know that, right?”

Edward patted them on the shoulder. “This is just payback for April Fool’s, mate.”

Jim gave him a vicious grin that was more teeth than smile. “You think freezing your knives in a block of ice is the worst I can do? Fucking try me.”

“You’re on –“

“Right,” Lucius said brightly, “the threats can wait until after Jim and Oluwande are done their nice fancy date, yeah?” He started shooing Edward away from their table. “Back to the kitchen, boss!”

“I’m so glad we can celebrate your love!” Edward called, walking backwards and nearly tripping over a chair, only for Lucius to shove him around to walk properly. “Love is love, babes! Lucius, where did we put the extra pride flags -”

Jim waved the finger at his back, then abruptly stopped and slunk deeper into their seat, as if they were trying to hide in the booth. The hair on the back of Oluwande’s neck raised, and he glanced around. It was as if every person in the whole place was looking at them. An older couple across the way was smiling, and a little kid was staring at Jim in awe. The corner of the restaurant they were in was small, but suddenly it felt stifling.

Oluwande gave an awkward half smile at the other diners, then turned pointedly back around in his seat. “Right. Thank you, Ed, for making us the centre of fucking attention.”

Jim thunked their head against the back of the booth and groaned. “This fish and chips better be fucking worth it.”

“Still can’t believe you ordered that,” Oluwande said, with a soft laugh. He slid his foot towards them under the table, searching until he could press his sneaker against their boot. Jim gave him a look, but their shoulders eased. “You could get fish and chips every day you work if you wanted.”

“Yeah, but they’re never as hot as I want them when I eat them on shift,” Jim said, their boot tapping his shoe back, then resting there. They leaned forward, grabbed the salt and vinegar. “And Ed does make the best fish and chips in town.” They smirked. “Besides, you said I could get whatever I wanted on date night!”

“And you can,” he agreed. He was determined to ignore the rest of the restaurant, to just dwell in this moment with them. Maybe now the others would fuck off and let them eat in peace. “Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna tease you about it, though.”

Jim just flipped him off, grinning the whole while.

He knew the exact moment it turned from something annoying but humorous into something frustrating and overwhelming. He supposed, thinking about it later, that it had been building towards overwhelming for longer than he maybe wanted to admit. He just wanted this to be nice, and fun, and for them to have at the very least a funny story about how their first date was ridiculous. Weren’t first dates supposed to be a little bit weird, anyway?

They were only half-way through their meals when the next visitor stopped by.

“Um, Oluwande, Jim?” The Swede hovered by their table. “I have something for you?”

“If it’s more candles I’m going to burn this whole place to the ground,” Jim said, eyes gleaming in a way that was maybe a little concerning. “I much prefer knives, but I’m happy to commit a little arson if necessary.”

“Oh, no,” the Swede laughed, then held out two little pieces of paper. “Some people left these for you? I said I would bring them.” He leaned in and dropped his voice to a whisper. “I read them to make sure people were not being mean, and both are very nice.”

Jim and Oluwande stared at each other. Oluwande reached slowly for the notes, giving the Swede a smile.

“Uh, thanks man. Much appreciated.”

The Swede beamed at them, toothy grin on full display. “You are welcome! I hope your dinner has been nice.”

Mercifully, he left them then, not lingering like the others had tried to.

Oluwande looked from the notes up to Jim. “You want to open them?”

“Fuck no. You do it.”

He sighed, but opened one obediently. Scanned the cramped handwriting, then opened the next.

Any other time, they would have been sweet. Both were notes about how they were a lovely couple, and how nice it was to see them out and enjoying their love so openly. One wished them a happy anniversary, the other a happy engagement. They were a bit condescending – they didn’t need anybody ‘celebrating their love’ - but sweet. And any other time, he’d probably have enjoyed them a whole lot more. But tonight, when all they’d wanted was a dinner out where they could be ignored and enjoy each other’s company, it was annoying as all hell.

Still. Oluwande took out his wallet and tucked them away, so that they could pull them out later, if they wanted to. Or burn them. Whichever.

“That bad?”

“Nah.” He gave Jim a small smile. “Just don’t think you’ll want to read them right now.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Their face flattened. “Fuck, don’t look, we’ve got more company.”

“Ah, shit –“

He schooled his face into a pleasant smile just as a middle aged man and woman stepped up to their table.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” the woman said, smiling a little too brightly, “but I just had to come over and say congratulations to you two. We’ve got a niece who’s a lesbian, and it’s just so nice to see people like you –“

Jim shoved themself roughly out of their seat and stalked towards the front of the restaurant. “Excuse me.”

The woman stared after Jim, while the man beside her frowned. “Oh, are they alright?”

“Uh, yeah,” Oluwande said, giving her a strained smile. “Thank you, very kind of you. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve just – got to check on them –“

He slipped from the table, and booked it after Jim.

He found them around the corner of the restaurant, back pressed to the rough bricks of the building, cigarette in their mouth. They barely glanced at him when he settled beside them, but offered over the cigarette.

“Thanks.” He took a long drag, staring up at the clear blue sky. Inhaled, exhaled. Let the smoke settle in his lungs.

He handed the cigarette back. “You alright?”

They were quiet for a long minute. “I don’t want to be congratulated on being queer and having dinner with my partner.”

“Yeah,” he said softly, “yeah, I know.”

“All I wanted was a nice, stupid date with my nice, smart boyfriend – but no.” They blew smoke towards the sky. “Puta gente heterosexual.”

There was another long moment of quiet.

“Is it always gonna be like this?” Jim asked quietly. “People making a big fucking deal about us just like, existing.”

He shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. Maybe. Sometimes, at least.” He hesitated. “But it’s not always like this, yeah? Hell, we go tons of places and hold hands and people never fucking pay us any mind. Think it’s bigger tonight because the crew made such a big deal out of our date.”

“… true. I still hate it, though.”

“I know. I do, too.” Oluwande shifted to face them fully. “Look, I know this whole thing is weird. We can just go. Get boxes, take the rest to the beach like we’d said. Bet we could convince Wee John to put beer in some of those weird take-out cups with the straws we never use.”

Jim looked down at their feet. They seemed to hunch in on themself, becoming smaller. He hated seeing them that way. “I don’t want to ruin our date.”

“You won’t be ruining anything. I fucking promise, Jim. I’m more than happy to leave.” When they didn’t say anything he nudged their foot with his. “How about this. You finish your smoke and think about it, I’ll go in and get some boxes from Luc. If you decide you want to go, then we go.”

They glanced at him, assessing for a minute before nodding slowly. They reached over, slid their hand into his, long fingers squeezing lightly. “… okay.”

He smiled, squeezed their hand back. “Take your time, yeah? I can handle the straights so you don’t have to.”

Jim huffed a laugh. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Yeah,” he said, grinning over his shoulder as he headed back inside, “you absolutely fucking do.”

The couple was gone when he settled back into their booth, something that Oluwande was more than a little grateful for. He pulled out his phone and looked up the time for sunset for the day, picking away at his food. If he was right – and he usually was – Lucius would come and check in while he was alone. And sure enough, barely a minute later he slid into view.  

"Sooo, how are things going?"

Oluwande gave him an overly polite smile. "Think we're going to pack in early. Could we get some boxes?”

"Nice try." Lucius laughed. When Oluwande just looked at him, the smile dropped into a frown. "What, you're serious?"

Oluwande scrubbed a hand over his face. "Yeah. Sorry."

Lucius hesitated. "Is everything... Okay? I thought you and Jim were like, good. Really good." His eyes widened. "Shit, you didn't come here to break up, did you? Did they leave?"

"No! God, no. They’re just out having a smoke." Oluwande looked towards the door. No Jim. Good. He didn’t want them walking in while he was talking about them. "This has just been… a lot. For Jim, especially."

"Oh. I'm sorry. The date, or -" Lucius waved a hand at their table, which was still covered in candles and pride flags and rose petals. He wasn’t even sure when those had arrived.

"Ehhhh, kind of all of it? Jim’s never been on a date before, we were both pretty nervous beforehand,” he admitted. “We just... wanted to try, see if they liked it, and thought tonight would be quiet enough that it wouldn't be a big deal.” He grimaced. “Think this has been a bit much, though. We’re probably gonna take our food to the beach, finish up there.”

Lucius stared at him. "Wait. Are you telling me that this is your first date?”

"Uh. Yeah? We just kind of - fell together, you know? Not really date type people."

"Oh my god. You’ve been together for like, months.”

“I know,” Oluwande said miserably. “It just hasn’t happened until now.”

“Shit. Wait – you said that Jim’s never been on a date. Oh my fucking god, is this Jim's first date ever? Like ever ever?" Lucius looked mildly horrified when Oluwande nodded. "Why the hell did you come here?"

Oluwande shrugged. He wasn’t sure any of their reasons were good enough, now. Maybe picking up takeout would have been better. "It's cheap for us. The food’s good. And - Jim knows it, y'know? I think they feel safe here. Or. Safer, at least." He ran a hand over his beard. “And it’s not all you lot. A couple came up and told us how nice it was to see ‘people like us’ celebrating, think that kind of tipped it over.”

“Oh, christ.”

“Yeah. Got a couple of congratulatory notes, too. People seem to think we’re like, engaged, or celebrating an anniversary.”

"Shit." Lucius bit his lip, looking toward the door. "Fuck, I didn’t know it was their first date ever.”

“Yeah.” Oluwande sighed. “It’s fine. Kind of our own fault anyway, for coming here.” 

Lucius’ mouth set. “Nope. Definitely not your fault. Look – we thought we were just having fun, but if it’s making you miserable, then we’re doing a shite job. I can be gracious” – he scowled at Oluwande’s incredulous look –“I can be gracious and admit that we maybe, probably, fucked up a little.”

“Yeaah, maybe just a tad.”

“Right. So.” He glanced around the room, a calculating look filling his eyes. “Okay. So. There’s only three tables back here still with people, and two of them are waiting on their bills. I can tell everyone else to fuck off and leave you alone, and I’ll get the Swede to leave the tables empty so it stays quiet back here. I’ll even fuck off myself. Would that – work? Maybe?”

Oluwande stared at him. "Really?"

"Really,” he said firmly. “I'll tell Stede you need privacy, you know he'll eat that shit right up. Text me if you need service, otherwise it'll be a ghost town back here." He hesitated. "I can still get you the boxes. If you want. But we can try and give Jim a better first date experience than all this.”

He wanted to say no. Cut their losses, box up their food, and try and salvage what was left of the night.

But for all that Lucius was a bit of a shit, Oluwande still trusted him. And if he thought he could keep the rest of the gang away, then maybe, maybe, they could start to salvage it here.

“Alright,” he said, nodding. “Get rid of the candles and bring Jim another whiskey, without any of the floofy bullshit and food dye this time, and we’ll give it a try.”

Lucius sighed in relief. “Definitely. Be back soon.”

By the time Jim slipped back into the booth across from him, their part of the restaurant was blissfully quiet. True to Lucius’ word, the candles had been removed, along with the rose petals. There was a fresh tumbler of whiskey sitting beside Jim’s plate, and boxes piled neatly at the other end of the table, just in case.

Jim eyed the clean table and their new drink, then looked around at the quiet back of the restaurant. The only other full booth was one with two older women who seemed very content to ignore the two of them. “… okay, what the fuck happened.”

“I told Lucius what happened,” Oluwande admitted. “Sorry. He said he’d keep the others away. But we’ve got boxes if you’d rather just go.”

Something he couldn’t read flickered over their face. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I mean, it was more him than me. I just said that we were done. He offered to fix it.”

“… huh.”

“Guess we can let him live?” Oluwande joked. A small smile tugged at the corners of Jim’s mouth, and he counted it a win. “We don’t have to stay though. Honestly. I’m just as happy to finish up at home or at the beach.”

Jim looked at him, then around at their quiet corner of the restaurant. They slid their hand across the table, curled their fingers around his, out of view from anyone but them. “We can stay. If you want.”

He rubbed his thumb along their knuckles. “Yeah, mate. That sounds nice.”

That same small smile again, flickering across their face before it turned into a scowl. “But if anyone else comes with more fucking Valentine-y bullshit, we’re burning the place down. ¿Sí?”

“Sí,” he agreed. “Absolutamente.”

Jim exhaled. “Okay. Fuck, now my fish and chips are cold.”

“Want me to text Lucius and ask for fresh ones?” They could wait. And he wouldn’t mind paying for a second plate, for them.

“Nah.” Jim speared a piece of fish and stuck it in their mouth, not even chewing or swallowing before they kept talking. Disgusting. He loved them so damn much. “I like them this way, too.”

Oluwande smiled down at his own fish. “If you say so.”

Lucius kept his word, and the rest of their dinner was beautifully peaceful. One could even call it nice. Jim relaxed more and more as time went on, and soon they were grinning again, laughing with the looseness that he knew came from more than a little bit of alcohol. He was more than a little tipsy himself, which probably helped matters overall.

“What do you think?” he asked Jim softly, after Lucius cleared away their plates. “Dessert? Maybe hit the beach?”

Jim yawned. “Maybe just the beach? I ate too much for dessert.”  

“We can always go home if you’d rather.”

They leaned their chin on their palm, elbow resting on the table. “No, I wanna do the beach.” Their nose wrinkled. “Think I drank too much to drive right away anyhow.”

“Yeah, me too. We should be able to catch the sunset. That’d be nice.”

“You would like the sunset,” Jim said, giving him a soppy grin that made him want to kiss them forever.

“Uh, duh.” He tapped their foot under the table, sure that his own grin was just as soppy. “Don’t you try and tell me that you don’t like it just as much.”

Their eyes crinkled at the edges when they smiled. “Happy things. Gross.”

He was just about to reach for their hand again when Jim’s eyes flicked over his shoulder. “Lucius alert.”

Lucius gave them a sheepish smile as he stepped up to the table. There was a small box in his hands.

“Hey you two.” He set the box on the table. “So, dinner is on the house tonight. Stede and Ed asked me to tell you that they’re sorry – well, Stede did, Ed said that he loves you but he’ll never be sorry after what you did to his knives, sorry Jim – and that they hope you’ll come back for dates if you want. Also, dessert! The little donut things you like, Olu.”

“Oh, Luc, please tell them they don’t have to –“

“Nope,” Jim said, reaching over and slapping a hand over Oluwande’s mouth before he could continue. “We accept. Tell Stede thanks, and tell Ed that the donuts are the only reason I’m not replacing his knives with fish sticks.”

Oluwande blew a raspberry against Jim’s palm, grinning when they drew away with a noise of disgust. He grabbed their hand before they could cover his mouth again, then turned to Lucius. “Thank you, Lucius. Seriously. This was – real nice, once the bullshit was done. I owe you one.”

“Mmm, you really don’t,” Lucius said, doing that funny half-grimace half-smile he did. “But that’s alright. I’m going to go before Jim decides they want to stab me after all. You kids have fun on the rest of your date, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“We will!” Jim called after him. They were already standing, tugging Oluwande to his feet and pulling him towards the door, donuts in hand. “C’mon. You wanna see the sunset.”

“Oluwande, wait –“

Oluwande turned before Jim could drag him through the door and looked at the Swede, who ran up to him and thrust out a piece of paper.

“I know that Lucius told us not to let anyone give you any more things,” he said, all in a rush, “but I think you will like this note.”

Oluwande took it with a frown. He flipped it open, scanned it, then clapped the Swede on the back with a smile. “Yeah, mate. You were right. Thanks.”

“You are welcome,” the Swede said, clearly pleased with his response. “Have a good evening!”

“What’s it say?” Jim asked, when they were both outside. They leaned against him, eyeing the little paper curiously.

He opened it in response.

Hello, the note read. I know you’ve probably had more attention than you want tonight, so apologies for adding to it. But we’re two old lesbians out for a date, and felt the need to leave a little note to you, our family. We just wanted to say how happy we are for you. We hope that whatever you were celebrating is something that makes you happy, too.

Love,

Kate and Joan

Jim was quiet while they read it. Oluwande watched as their expression turned soft, a small smile tugging at the corners of their mouth.

“Oh,” they said softly, “old lesbians left us a note.”

“Yeah. A nice one, too.”

Jim hummed. They plucked it from his fingers and carefully folded it, then slipped it into their pocket. “Don’t let me forget it’s here, okay? I wanna save it.”

“Want me to put it in my wallet?”

They brushed their fingers over their pocket and shook their head. “Kinda wanna keep it on me, if that’s okay.”

He wrapped his arm around them. “Of course, love. It’s yours.”

The beach was quiet, most of the families out enjoying the late summer day having long since headed home. Jim led the way down the boardwalk, stopping once they reached the end only long enough to pry the boots and socks off their feet so they could walk barefoot along the cooling sand. Oluwande followed suit, slipping off his sneakers, smiling at the feeling of sand between his toes and the way the wind moved Jim’s hair.  

They were both quiet, letting the sound of the waves and the wind wash over them, soaking in the peace. Side by side, Oluwande’s steps slow, Jim’s quick to match his longer strides. They never needed to catch up to him. It was always the other way around, them rushing into things, him following behind. He would go wherever they led him. Always, always, always.

Jim’s hand slipped into his, twining their fingers together. Their hand was warm, and calloused in a familiar way. They glanced sideways at him, ducking their head to hide a smile when he winked.

“Love you,” he murmured.

Jim squeezed his hand. “Love you too, hermoso.”

They walked until they found a quiet spot hidden among the dunes, then Jim tugged Oluwande to sit on the sand and watch the waves. The sun was setting, painting brilliant pinks and purples along the horizon. The night was warm, and warmer still with Jim beside him.

“Did you still want to go skinny dipping?” he asked softly. “Should be dark soon.”

Jim sighed and leaned against him, their head tipping onto his shoulder. “Not really. I don’t want to deal with being wet.”

He hummed and curled his arm around their waist, hand settling at their hip. “Should’ve thought to put towels in the truck.”

“Next time.”

If there would be a next time. Even with how nice the end of the date had been, it still felt like a shitshow. Worry crept in.

“Yeah, I guess,” he said with a sigh. “If you want to try another date. I get it if you don’t want to.”

Jim pulled away and peered at his face with a frown. “Why the hell wouldn’t I want to go on another one?”

“Well this one kind of sucked, didn’t it? What with the whole” – he waved his hand –“everything. Us being the center of attention, and the straights, and the romance-y shit. Bit overwhelming, really.”

They chewed on their lip, looked down at their toes, buried in the sand. “You thought it sucked?”

He sensed a mis-step. “No? I dunno, man. I really like this part. And dinner was – nice, once everyone stopped coming ‘round.” He stopped, thought for a moment. “Even before then, it was fun until it wasn’t. I really liked spending time with you. It felt special, going out somewhere. I’m just –“ he exhaled, took a moment to gather his thoughts. “I guess I’m just worried that it sucked for you.”

Jim relaxed back against him, curling into his side. “You worry too much. It didn’t suck for me.”

“No?”

“Nah.” Their hand on his thigh started tracing a pattern only they could follow. “I mean. It was overwhelming. But you were there, so it was alright.”

A smile spread across his face. He rested his cheek on their hair, breathed in the scent of them. “Good. That’s – that’s good.”

“Yeah. Even as annoying as Lucius and Stede are, like, it was kind of funny, in hindsight.” They snorted. “I still can’t believe Stede and Ed brought candles to our table.”

“Oh my god, right?” Oluwande laughed. “What about us says candlelit dinner people?”  

“It was the tie,” Jim said, sounding almost smug. “And your handsome waistcoat.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

They craned their neck back to look up at him. The last of the fading sun sent brilliant gold dancing along their face. “I’m serious though, Olu. This was nice. I wouldn’t want to like, go on fancy dinners all the time, but I liked going on a date with you. I wanna try again.”

Something warm and uncomplicated swelled in his chest. He tilted his head down, pressed a kiss to their mouth. “I liked going on a date with you, too.”

They watched the waves until it was too dark to see, then made their way back to Blackbeard’s and the truck waiting for them in the parking lot. The parking lot was empty, save for Edward’s jeep, and the wash of flickering lamplight over the blacktop made for a quiet sort of nostalgia that Oluwande couldn’t quite name. The simple love of a quiet end to a summer night, with Jim’s hand in his, their tie loose around their neck as they led him across the parking lot.

“Want me to drive?”

Jim tilted their head back and forth, assessing, before nodding and pressing the keys into his hand. “Yeah, you probably should.”

“Lightweight,” he teased, climbing into the seat and adjusting it.

“Some of us were drinking whiskey, not beer –“

His laughter followed them into the night.

The truck was quiet when he turned it off. He turned to Jim, smiling at the sleepy look they gave him. He couldn’t help but reach up, tuck a strand of their hair behind their ear.

“You gonna ask me up for ‘coffee’?”

Oluwande smiled. “Only if you’ll say yes.”

“For you?” They leaned across the gear shift, pressed their lips to his. “Always.”

He followed them upstairs to the little apartment they shared, then into the bedroom. Jim closed the door, then stepped close, looped their arms around his neck. Their kiss was just as wonderful as always, and he closed his eyes, settled his hands on their hips and let them set the pace.

When they drew back from the lazy makeout he let them, sighing in content as they rested their forehead against his.

“This was really nice,” he whispered. “Thanks going on a date with me.”

Jim hummed in agreement. “It was nice.” They gave him another kiss. “Bed?”

“Bed.”

There was little fanfare to undressing. It didn’t feel like the heated undressing he might have expected from a date in his younger years, but instead the well-worn comfort of two partners who lived together and stripping from their all-too-fancy clothes. Like the relief of taking off an uncomfortable suit at the end of a long wedding that wasn’t yours.

Jim was half-way out of their button down, struggling to drag it over their head rather than unbuttoning it, when they cursed. “Oh – shit, hold on. I have a thing -”

Oluwande raised an eyebrow and huffed a laugh. “Need a hand?”

“No – mierda – there –“ they tossed the button down in the direction of the hamper, hair mussed around their head, and booked it from the room, yelling after themself. “Don’t go anywhere!”

“Alright,” he yelled back, grinning. He didn’t know where the sudden burst of energy had come from, but he wasn’t going to complain. “Not sure where I would go anyhow, but I won’t.”

There was a shuffling and banging in the kitchen, Jim’s voice echoing oddly. “Smartass!”

Oluwande grinned and picked up their discarded tie, folding it neatly and setting it on the dresser. “Like you’re one to talk.”

The fridge door slammed shut. Jim could be quiet, real quiet, but right now they sounded like a herd of elephants running across the apartment. They skidded into the room, wild-eyed and wild-haired, grin huge across their face.

And in their hands was a bouquet of flowers.

Oluwande swore his jaw dropped. Jim grinned wider.

“I was gonna give these to you earlier,” they said, in a rush, padding across the room and thrusting the bouquet out to him, “but I snuck them into the fridge and forgot. So. Happy first date?”

He took the flowers, staring down at them in awe. It was a gorgeous bouquet, flowers in seemingly every colour of the rainbow. He gently touched the soft petals of a black eyed susan.

“You got me flowers?”

“Yeah.” Jim scratched their head, which only made the mess of their hair worse. “I know roses are traditional. But these ones reminded me of you. All bright and happy.”

His cheeks hurt from smiling. He pulled Jim into a fierce hug with one arm, pressed a kiss against their cheek.

“God. I love you. Thank you, they’re so fucking pretty.”

Jim laughed. They reached up and pulled him in for a proper kiss, mouth tender against his.

“Pretty flowers for a pretty man.”

His cheeks warmed. “You’ve already got me, mate, no need for the flattery.”

Their hand pressed to his cheek. When they smiled like that, their eyes crinkled at the edges, just a bit. He couldn’t wait to see them age, to see the crinkles turn into crows feet and laugh lines and every lovely sign of a life spent happy. “I do have you, don’t I.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, dipping to kiss them, heart so terribly full, “you do.”