Work Text:
I don't know what to wear. What should I wear?
What do we usually wear on dates?
It's not a date.
It feels like a date.
But it's not a date.
We're going for dinner.
That doesn’t make it a date. I can go for dinner with a friend. I've done it hundreds of times.
But not a friend who makes us feel like he does. And we're paying. That's date territory.
I'm paying because I owe him. After the theatre… mix-up. I felt guilty, I had to make it up to him.
He didn't say we owe him. He said it was fine. Grand.
Grand’s meaningless. I saw straight through it.
What we saw was an opportunity to take him on another pseudo date.
Shut up. Get out of my head.
Our head.
Just be quiet. You're not helping.
I'll be quiet when we're five pints deep and you're drowning in those green eyes. Until then, we're in this together.
Then help me choose what to wear.
For our date.
For dinner.
Whatever. Checked shirt?
The blue?
Yeah. It really brings out our eyes
It's a bit casual.
But the way he looks at us when we wear it and he thinks we're not looking…
It's definitely too casual. This is a nice restaurant, I can't wear flannel.
We're going for dinner in a formal restaurant, but it's definitely not a date?
I didn’t say it’s formal, it's not formal , it’s just not… Nando’s. Or a date. Look, will you just work with me.
So a smarter shirt.
Yeah. With jeans. I’m making an effort, but not too much of an effort.
Tie?
No. No tie dresses it down. Because it’s not a date.
Ok. But a jacket dresses it up just enough, tells the restaurant, we do know what we're doing.
Agreed. So which shirt?
The cream shirt. With the little squares.
Yeah, ok. I like that, not too casual but still some interest.
He really likes that shirt.
What?
That’s why we wore it to the theatre.
Wait, you were recreating what I wore to the theatre?
What we wore, yes. Why not? It went well.
The whole night was a disaster!
It got us a second date…
There was no first date, there is no second date. I’m not wearing the cream shirt. He’ll remember, he’ll think I’m rubbing his nose in it.
He’ll have forgotten. No way he’s thought about that night half as much as we’ve thought about that night.
Not the cream.
Then the blue-grey one.
The petrol? Ok, yeah. Yeah, that’s good, that straddles nicely.
And it brings out our eyes.
Shut up.
Stop! Undo that top button. Do you want him to think we’ve learnt nothing?
Oh god, you’re right. This is a mistake. What if we go into town after? What if we bump into the Lads? I should just wear a white shirt, be on the safe side.
Are we dressing for the Lads or are we dressing for him?
I’m dressing for myself. It’s not a—
A date, right, you keep saying. If we’re dressing for ourself, we should just be ourself. Jacket, shirt, jeans. It’s our look.
But the Lads…
And if we meet the Lads, we will present him with a ready made target for some slagging, so he can hit the ground running. We martyr ourself on the altar of laddom, make him look good, he has a great night, we get a third—
Don’t even say the word.
Fine. Are we ready?
Ready. For dinner.
For dinner.
That's definitely not a date.
Definitely not a date.
Right. Here goes nothing.
Yup.
I’m opening the door.
Are we? How are we going to do that without putting our hand on the handle?
Oh, right. Ok. I’m doing it. Actually doing it. No turning back.
Just open the damn door!
“Right! Sorry for the hold-up, couldn’t… It doesn’t matter. Anyway, I’m ready now.”
“Grand.”
“Are you ready?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s what you’re wearing?”
“Uh, yeah? It’s alright is it? I can change?”
“No, it’s fine. It’s great. That’s, uh, a nice shirt, that colour on you is... I rather assumed you only had… I didn’t think you’d… Nevermind.”
Well done. We sounded totally normal there, not at all like someone nervous about a date.
It’s not a date.
“I wasn’t really sure where we’re going, didn’t want to be underdressed. I know these things matter to you. Don’t want to get it wrong again. Not after last time. A t-shirt and a hoodie - two, even - to the theatre, you must have been ready to kill me. Don’t want to show you up again.”
There’s just one thing.
What’s that?
Does Stephen know it's not a date?