Work Text:
“Are you really sure?”
Theon stares up at his sister and hopes that the glare he sends her is enough to shut her up for the moment. “Yes, I’m really sure. Come on, it’s not - I mean, it has chicken in it, okay? I swear, it’s fine.”
Asha looks at him with the face of someone who knows he’s talking bullshit, but at the same time Theon knows she’s not going to order for him, thank fuck, so he figures he might win this one yet.
“Er, should I come back in five minutes?” The waiter obviously felt the tension, poor sod - also he looks like a college student. Young, probably a bit younger than Theon, black hair, grey eyes, sour face - yeah, definitely a student who just wants to make wages. Considering how he rolled his eyes at the joke Theon threw earlier at him, probably not the kind with a decent sense of humor.
“No,” Asha sighs, “we’d be still at the same point. Just get him - what was that?”
“The Caesar salad,” Theon sighs, and stops himself from telling the guy to not dress it. He mentally regrets for the umpteenth time the day he didn’t turn the cold shoulder when Ramsay hit on him at that bar last year and tries to smirk at the waiter.
Asha just shakes her head and orders some kind of cheese selection for a starter, a medium steak with potatoes and a beer, sounding as if she’s not arguing with him just out of self-preservation.
“And can I get you anything to drink?” The waiter asks him.
For a moment Theon is tempted to ask for the beer, too, but then he decides that drinking is not a good idea if he wants this evening to end without metaphorical bloodshed and he shakes his head. “I’ll have a Coke.”
“Er, we just have Pepsi, I think. Is that the same?”
“Heathens. But fine, I’ll take the Pepsi.”
The waiter rolls his eyes and says he’ll be back with their food as soon as it’s ready, and by the way, there’s nothing wrong with Pepsi. Theon just snorts at that - good thing he’s not being nice just for the sake of it, it’s refreshing.
When he’s gone, Asha puts her elbows on the table.
“You know,” she says, “the point of going out was that you wouldn’t eat the same things you have in your fridge at home. Well, not the chicken, I suppose, but you can’t live on salad for the rest of your life. Another three months of not changing your habits and it might get dangerous, or do I have to remind you?”
Sometimes he wishes his sister had more tact when touching the subject, but other times he’s glad she’s that blunt - she’s incapable of being anything else and at least she isn’t treating him any differently than usual. If only it worked the way it was supposed to, since he knows she’s right but his brain still hasn’t caught up with the memo that he can’t let Ramsay Bolton’s life choices rule his own even after he has gotten out of that toxic mess.
“I know,” he shrugs, “but I’m trying, all right? Hell, I haven’t stood you up, have I?”
“Fine, but you’re getting dessert or I’m ordering it for you.”
He tries not to look panicked at the suggestion and swallows down - she does have a point there, he figures. And she’s trying, which - is kind of touching in itself, considering that she’s hardly that kind of person and she’s never been.
But for now he really can’t go much further than this.
--
“What? Caesar salad?”
“Yes, Robb, that’s what he ordered.”
“But - him? I mean -?”
“Yes, Robb, him. Admittedly, his sister seemed of the opinion that he should have gotten something with more substance, but he didn’t budge. So?”
Robb shakes his head, looking at the orders list and then at the two people sitting next to the window. They’re the only clients this evening, it’s a slow day in the first place and it’s in the middle of a vacation week-end - they’re the only open place in the neighborhood, but everyone else seems to be out at least for the day, so at least he doesn’t have to worry about other clients.
And - the thing is, they’re siblings, it takes just one look to notice, but it’s obvious that he hasn’t had a great time lately. She looks pretty healthy and is excellent shape, and she’s a fairly good-looking woman even if she’s not showing off at all - she has no make-up on and she’s wearing torn jeans and a white t-shirt, that’s about it. Him, on the other side - he’s really way too thin, and it’s a pity because he’s also fairly damn handsome. Long-ish dark hair, dark eyes, pale skin, regular traits, he’s wearing a pair of nice jeans and a shirt that was definitely ironed recently and overall, he cuts a pretty striking figure. Except for how he seems to just kind of hunch on himself and how he really shouldn’t be getting just, well, salad, and for how he’s tapping his left hand against the table. But he had seen Jon take the orders and he had been smirking at him before, obviously trying to rile him up, and - listen, Robb always had a thing for tall, dark and slightly rude, okay?
“It’s just - can’t you ask him if - no, well, I guess he decided, but -”
“Oh my God,” Sansa says suddenly, “you like him.”
“What?”
“You do,” she says, sounding giddy. Damn, he should have never agreed to let his seventeen year-old sister help him out when he took over from their parents’, but -
“Sansa, come on -”
“You’re as red as your hair. It’s so cute, I can’t even. And what’s the harm? I mean, he is also cute, I guess. Even if he could do with more than Caesar salad.”
“At least someone else sees it,” Robb sighs, looking again at the list. Well, he should try to start, even if -
He looks at the table and sees him stand up and head for the bathroom.
“Jon,” he says, suddenly deciding to do the most unprofessional thing he could have thought of, “go to his sister and ask her if he’s allergic to something or if there’s specific food he doesn’t eat or whether he’s not having drinks because he can’t or because he doesn’t want to, or any other reason someone should respect at all costs.”
“What? Robb -”
“Jon, come on, just do it. Please?”
“You’re lucky I’d do almost anything for you,” Jon sighs, and heads out.
“What are you planning?” Sansa asks.
“Depends on what Jon tells me,” Robb replies truthfully. Jon comes back not long later, looking for all purposes like he’s really done with Robb’s bullshit.
“She said, textual words, he’ll drink, he’s just being an idiot right now. Also he’s not allergic to anything but he hates cheese and doesn’t like fish much. Robb, what are you even -”
“Oh. Good, that’s - I could have done a lot worse.”
“Robb. What are you planning?”
“I might just take over the menu.”
“Robb, if you think I’m going to explain them that you have a crush on him and you’re expressing it through food, you can forget -”
“It’s fine,” Sansa interrupts, “I’ll do it.”
“Really?” Robb kind of really loves his sister right now. “Great. Great, just - say it’s courtesy of the house, okay? I don’t really need the man to freak out, and - just use some discretion.”
“Of course,” she replies, smiling so very amiably, and Robb decides it’s time to work on the damned food for them both. Caesar salad, what a joke. He should scrape it off the menu actually, that thing is fairly bland anyway and he doesn’t have to keep his dad’s old food choices from fifteen years ago if he doesn’t like them.
He smiles to himself and starts planning.
--
Theon does think it’s a bit strange that instead of Dark, Sour and Kind Of Handsome (who only brought over Asha’s soup) another waitress comes with their order a while later. This one is younger, probably still in high school - huge baby blues, neatly braided auburn hair, nice smile - she’ll have men falling at her feet in a couple years probably. Not that Theon minds, of course. What is weird is that she has come with a full tray.
“Rare steak and potatoes for you,” she tells Asha chipperly.
“And for you… well, I hope you don’t mind, but let’s say the chef has decided that Caesar salad was a bit of a waste.”
“Sorry?” A bit of what?
The waitress smiles and presents him a plate of what looks like some overcomplicated recipe including duck, plums, half an apple and baby potatoes, and then pours him a generous dose of red wine while he’s too busy staring at the plate.
“I don’t think - why?” He asks, knowing he sounds completely out of his element. Asha is staring at the whole thing with a fairly nonplussed face, good for her.
The waitress glances in the direction of the kitchen, then smirks conspiratorially and leans down further.
“See, the chef - who happens to be my older brother, this entire business is family-run as you can see - might have seen you two coming in and he might have decided that you’re kind of his type. I mean, knowing him, you’re definitely his type, and he really thought you deserved a nicer dinner than, uh, Caesar salad. So he took that into his hands, I suppose. And before you start assuming what anyone with some sense might, I can totally guarantee that my brother is in fact not a creep. I mean, he told me to just be diplomatic about this and to not tell you about his little crush, but he can be an idiot when he wants to, so. He also happens to be the nicest guy you’ll ever have the pleasure of running into - seriously, I swear to God that when he was in kindergarten everyone was horribly sad when he eventually had to move on to elementary school because he’d get bullies off the back of every other kid who had some. It’s our mom’s favorite Christmas story, really. And I’m sure he really hopes you enjoy your dinner, so I’ll leave you to it.”
Theon is too floored to actually answer, but before he even can do it, his damned sister is smirking and looking at the waitress with a glint in her eyes that he really doesn’t like.
“Why, that was thoughtful I suppose. I imagine the previous waiter is also a relative?”
“He’s our brother, yes.”
“Just out of curiosity, does the chef favor you or him? I guess he might need that information while he figures it out.”
“Oh, of course. Well, Jon - the other waiter - he looks a lot more like our dad. However, both I and Robb look like our mom. I hope you have a nice dinner!”
Then she’s gone and Theon is left staring at his duck without even being able to process it.
Does this guy seriously pulled out this in some half an hour because he likes him? And considering how he looks right now he doubts that he’s a sight for sore eyes, and he should really just send it back, but - it does look inviting, doesn’t it, and at this point he hasn’t had good food in months. It’s just -
“If you don’t eat that before it goes cold, I will,” Asha says without ceremonies as she digs into her steak.
Theon glares at her and cuts off a piece. And damn it but it’s delicious, it really is, and it might sound cheesy but you can just - taste somehow that whoever cooked this put a lot of thought into it. He doesn't even know how he knows that, he just does, but it might have to do with how carefully it was put together, never mind that it really tastes good - there isn't a piece of the whole that's not cooked to perfection. Also it's nothing too heavy, which means that he doesn't feel halfway full after the second bite of meat; by the time he’s halfway through and he’s had some of the wine, he kind of feels completely overwhelmed or about to get there. Meanwhile, Asha is done already and looking at him in a certain smug way, and obviously that’s when the waitress comes back to get her plate.
“Did you enjoy it?” She asks.
“Not half as much as he’s enjoying his, and I thought it was excellent,” Asha replies, smirking without an ounce of shame.
“Oh, good. Robb will be delighted to know. By the way, were you thinking about having dessert?”
“Yes,” Asha replies without even blinking. “But you can bring back the menu after he’s done.”
“I would, but there won’t be the need. It’s totally taken care of.”
“It’s - ah,” Asha says, and what does that even - oh, no, does that mean that the infamous Robb has decided to take that matter into his hands as well?
“I’m sure you will both enjoy what the house has thought of. And please do take your time,” she tells Theon, “you shouldn’t rush when eating good food, right?”
Then she’s gone again and Theon doesn’t even know what the hell he’s doing here.
“Asha, stop laughing,” he hisses when he notices that she’s not exactly trying to keep it in.
“Your face is priceless right now, of course I will,” she replies without even thinking about it. “Also, you’re getting excellent free food out of this, don’t look like that. If the guy actually comes out here and he’s another creep I’ll take care of it, but if he’s anywhere like his sister, I think you’ll be fine.”
“But - I mean, who’d even -”
“Someone who likes you, obviously, and fuck knows if it finally was time for you to have a nice guy hitting on you rather than a creep. Go on, eat, I’m totally fine waiting.”
Theon swallows and goes back to his delicious food, trying to ignore how his stomach is feeling turned upside down for reasons that are entirely unrelated to what he’s eating and have more to do with taking in that someone actually went all that trouble just because they thought he deserved to have a nice dinner, and hopes that she’s right.
--
“You didn’t tell them that,” Robb groans.
“I had to! Otherwise you’d have just stayed holed up in here without having done anything about it and sorry but it would be a complete waste. I mean, you two would be so adorable together!”
“Sansa -”
“Robb, don’t be a complete idiot. You haven’t been with anyone since you broke up with whatshername years ago -”
“Talisa,” Jon adds not-so-helpfully. Robb groans - as if he needs to think about her out of everyone. God, it took him a year to get over that break up and he still doesn’t understand how he managed to waste three years of his life with someone who cheated on him for half of that time, fuck’s sake.
“Right, Talisa,” Sansa keeps on. “And it’s been long enough. You can’t berate yourself over her forever, and Dark, Tall and Handsome sitting over there totally needs someone nice in their life, so you’re not going to miss your chance and I’m not going to apologize.”
Robb shrugs - well, he had kind of planned to hijack the dessert order anyway if the need occurred, so - so he might as well go all in, even if he’s fairly sure that he’s going to make a fool of himself anyway.
Well then, at least he’ll make sure that he puts all the effort he can in it.
--
Theon doesn’t know what he had been expecting.
Not for the red haired waitress to come back with an entire bloody cart.
“And what do we have here?”
“My brother couldn’t decide, so he figured that he might as well not choose in the first place. Of course, you’re welcome to it as well,” she tells Asha, and then uncovers the plates on the cart.
Christ. It’s two small tastings of all the desserts listed on the menu, if he recalls right from the quick glance he gave it. It’s not as if he had let himself think about dessert. He looks at the plates - yeah, right. He can definitely see Sachertorte, montblanc, limoncello cake, apple pie, strawberry shortcake, portions of cinnamon roll, treacle tart, millefeuille and angel cake. That’s about - he’s fairly sure he hasn’t seen this much sugar put together in two years.
“That’s - that’s too much, I -”
“Nonsense. Enjoy your dessert!” She retreats, looking so very chipper. Theon swallows and looks down at the plates - damn, he doesn’t even know where he should start from.
“You can have the angel cake,” he tells Asha.
“Oh, good, I knew you hated it,” she says gleefully, and reaches for both pieces. He swallows and nibbles on the cinnamon roll first, and damn but it’s good, and then moves on to the millefeuille - he ends up tasting all of them and forbidding Asha to even touch the montblanc. Damn, that was the best, even if the limoncello cake came close. And the thing is - not only he doesn’t feel like vomiting, and he doesn’t even feel full - shit, well, he had skipped lunch knowing that he’d have dinner out, so - but… he isn’t even feeling guilty the way he used to when he’d even look at cupcakes while passing a bakery lately. Fuck Ramsay, he definitely would not have before - before, but now he just feels like he could eat some more and go home and go to bed without it feeling like lead on his stomach.
“Well damn it,” Asha says as she polishes off her share of limoncello cake, “I’m definitely coming back here soon. And I’ll have to talk to that chef anyway.”
“What?”
“Hey, you ate all of that without looking as if you hated yourself for it, I should thank him just for -”
“Uhm, sorry to interrupt?”
Theon turns to his right - this is definitely not either the sour waiter or his sister, and -
Well, shit. Did she say that the infamous Robb looked like her? Because the guy standing next to their table does indeed share her looks - they could be twins if only he wasn’t obviously older. And - damn. Damn, but he’s really fucking attractive. Auburn hair of that same shade, blue eyes maybe slightly bigger than hers but with the same hue, tall, muscled but not overtly so, with stubble that manages to look unkempt in a fairly charming way, not in a I forgot to shave this morning way, and wait a fucking moment, this guy is apparently into him?
Theon’s head is this close to start spinning.
“I imagine that you must be Robb,” Asha says, bless her lack of inhibitions.
“You imagine right,” Robb says, glancing at Theon and then back at her. “And - well, obviously if you’re both full you don’t have to accept, and it’s all on the house, of course, but if you’d like a full portion of whatever you liked best -”
“There’s no need -” Theon starts.
“Absolutely,” Asha pretty much overrides him before he can finish. “It’ll be the limoncello cake for me. My brother, though, I’m sure he’d rather tell you himself.”
Theon hates his sister sometimes. Now the guy is looking at him and wait, is he getting flustered? He’s getting flustered looking at him? God, okay, this is starting to become surreal.
“Uh, everything was delicious,” he stammers. “That montblanc, though - well. It was - something else.”
“What a coincidence,” Robb says, and it’s fairly obvious that he’s not lying, “it happens to be my favorite, too. Well then, I’ll be back shortly.”
Robb leaves and Theon takes a deep breath - shit, he feels flustered himself, as much as Robb looked.
“Theon,” Asha says, “if you like him, go for it.”
“What -”
“Seriously. You looked like a twelve year-old schoolgirl just now, and he looked like a fourteen year-old one. And you’d be an idiot to refuse someone who can bake like that just because you think you’re damaged goods.”
“I don’t -”
“Deny that.”
He opens his mouth to do just that and then he realizes that - she’s right. He was about to let the guy down on principle, and he’d have made sure to tell him that it was Theon’s problem one hundred per cent, but - but maybe she’s right, and it’s been long enough. He could at least give it a try, considering that he wouldn’t even be settling. At least, Robb looks really nice, and maybe -
“Here we go,” Robb says from his right again, and a moment later there’s a plate with a full portion of montblanc on it in front of him. He barely pays attention to the full portion of limoncello cake placed in front of his sister because he’s just - staring up at Robb now, and Robb really does look flustered all over again, and -
“Thanks,” he manages. “You didn’t have to go through all that trouble -”
“Sorry but I happen to disagree,” Robb interrupts. “I quite enjoyed it. Going through that trouble, I mean.”
“You - you did?”
“Sure. I happened to think you deserved a nice dinner,” Robb goes on, and god but he’s so nowhere near smooth, and - he really looks like he’s into Theon. And damn but he wants to flirt back. Really, really badly.
“It was delicious, truth to be told,” Theon replies slowly, keeping eye contact.
Robb clears his throat, and then -
“If you want to ask for his number just go for it, he’s going to say yes,” Asha says, while she’s still munching on her damned cake, fuck but this is embarrassing.
“... Would you?” Robb asks a moment later.
“Actually - actually yes, I fucking would, if my sister stops meddling.”
“Oh. Oh, great. Well then - I guess, look under the plate.”
Theon does and - there’s a business card with the restaurant’s name and address on it, and there’s a number written on the back. He smirks and pockets the card. “I’ll call you,” he says, and fuck but - he knows he means it.
“I’ll be waiting then. And I’ll just - leave you to your food then. Have a good evening.” Robb grins at him and then dashes out of the room, his cheeks still tinged almost as red as his hair, and there’s no bitter aftertaste in Theon’s mouth when he looks down at the number and puts the card in his pocket.
Then he moves to eating the damn montblanc, which is every bit as delicious as the smaller portion was, and he ignores the way Asha is openly smirking at him. So she is. Fine. Let her smirk. Maybe she was right all along, he can admit it once in a while.
“We definitely need to come here more often, especially if it means we eat this much for half the price,” she says after the bill is brought over.
“Sorry, what?”
“We only were charged for one portion of dessert each, and your food is billed as a Caesar salad.”
“I doubt it’d happen again -”
“Well, if it means you can actually eat at the chef’s place…”
Theon groans in embarrassment as Asha hands the waitress her credit card and winks back at her when said waitress winks first. Damn it.
Fact is, though, when later they’re walking back home, he doesn’t feel as if what he ate just turned into bile in his own stomach, which is what happened the two times he ate somewhat sweet food in the last few months. He doesn’t even feel residual guilt for the indecent quantity of sugar he has ingested, and so maybe he’s not thinking straight when, just after Asha leaves him on his doorstep, he grabs his phone and sends Robb a text.
It’s telling that he gets a reply within a minute. He doesn’t even know how he agrees to go to Robb’s place tomorrow evening but he’s also smiling to himself as he texts back that yes, he can do dinner.
--
So maybe Robb overdid things a bit.
It’s just - maybe he did punch the air when he got that positive answer last evening, and he really wanted to make a good impression, which is why he’s probably going to bring his mother a lot of leftovers tomorrow. Hell, scratch the maybe, he really did go overboard with this whole dinner thing, he thinks looking at the indecent quantity of food scattered across the kitchen. Well, if they don’t finish it his brothers will be more than happy to, so he’ll just set the table and get on with everything else.
Fine, he also has broken out his grandmother’s nice cutlery that his mom dumped on him when he moved out, and which he never bothers to use normally because washing it is a pain. But something tells him Theon doesn’t treat himself or gets treated that often, which is a complete joke if you ask him, which is why at least now he’s determined to go all the way with this.
He sets the table, decides that he’s not putting out the appetizers for now lest they go cold, and instead starts rummaging through his alcohol cabinet - surely he does have some decent wine, not just the kind he uses to cook. Possibly red, and possibly Italian since he ended up with an Italian menu. For which he bought overpriced ingredients at one shop he knows imports directly from there. Christ, he really is over in his head, but he’s fairly sure he’s never wanted to impress someone as much as he wants to impress Theon now. Then again, after yesterday’s stunt he can’t make himself look any more ridiculous, can he? He finds a bottle of Lambrusco he had been saving for an appropriate occasion for a couple of years, decides that this is indeed an appropriate occasion and puts it on the table. Right. Dinner is ready, the wine is ready, the table is set, the only thing left to do is that he should just dress already because he’s still wearing a pair of ripped, comfortable old jeans and an old Avengers t-shirt stained with ragu sauce and now that’d really be inappropriate, wouldn’t it -
And that’s when the doorbell rings.
Robb looks at the time, and - well, fuck it, they said seven thirty PM and it’s seven thirty sharp. He should have checked earlier, damn.
Ah, well, again, it’s not as if he can get any more ridiculous - he’ll just let Theon in and excuse himself a moment so he can change. Sounds doable, right? He runs a hand through his hair, yells coming before at least washing his face, and tries to see whether he can hide the stained parts of his t-shirt. A look in the mirror confirms that he can’t - there’s one right in the middle of Captain America’s face in the center of the shirt, no folding can hide it.
He sighs and just goes to the door, the last thing he should do is leaving the poor guy waiting outside. He opens the door -
And fuck his life, he wants to disappear under the ground somewhere because Theon actually dressed up. Robb doesn’t know if he’s more flattered that the guy would have taken more than ten minutes of his time to get ready or whether he’s more turned on. Can you blame him when Theon’s wearing charcoal dress pants and matching jacket - not quite a proper suit but the closest you can get if you want a casual look with that kind of clothing -, a properly ironed pale cream-ish shirt and fuck, he has a half-loosened gray tie that’s not helping any here. Robb’s only thought isn’t ‘wow he’s scorching hot’ just because he’s also thinking shit he’s here on time and dressed so nicely and he put on cologne for fuck’s sake and I’m looking like I just came out of the kitchen, which isn’t even false because I did just come out of the damned kitchen. And wait, has he brought wine over? Robb feels so embarrassed, if his face isn’t redder than his hair he’s going to be surprised.
“Christ,” Robb finally says before the silence can become awkward, “this teaches me to actually look at the time once in a while. I might have completely forgotten, I wasn’t planning to open the door looking like this - and ah, shit, I haven’t even let you in already, just do before I end up embarrassing myself to death?”
For a moment they just stare at each other and then -
Then Theon stops trying to hold on some laughter he was obviously trying not to let loose out of pity - perfectly justifiable - and comes in smiling wide enough that Robb can see his teeth while shaking his head and fine, if Robb wasn’t a goner last evening he is now because the guy’s a sight, all right? He’s way over in his head and he figured there’s no point in trying to hide it.
“It’s fine,” Theon finally answers, “it happens. But wait, does that mean -”
“Uh, yeah, I might have been in the kitchen until you knocked, but - never mind, I should have timed it better.”
“Don’t even make a problem out of it. And, er, with my luck I managed to pick the wrong wine, didn’t I?”
Robb takes the bottle from him and looks at the label - well, damn it, if he wasn’t already gone before he is now, because Theon has definitely not gone to the supermarket and bought the first thing that looked presentable. It’s some Italian brand of rose wine that he’s never heard of before, but he’s cooked with wine enough to recognize an above average quality from the label and this one looks fairly good.
“Well,” Robb says slowly, “the one I had picked probably fits the menu better, but if you think we should do this another time I’d be more than happy to cook you something that goes with this.”
“Wait, if I think we should do this again? What if you decide that we shouldn’t?” Theon is sounding as if he’s testing the waters, and Robb isn’t going to press - he’ll share if he wants to.
“I really don’t think I’m going to have second thoughts. And - crap, I really should go change, I wouldn’t wear this to my little brother’s sleepovers, for -”
“Humor me a moment, what it is that you lost track of time for?”
Theon sounds like he’d honestly want to know, and so - well, he’s seen the conditions of his shirt, it’s not as if the conditions of his kitchen should throw him off too much.
“Sure. But lose the jacket, I shut everything down a short while ago and it’s hot as hell in there.”
Theon does, and Robb tries not to stare as he folds it on the back of his sofa, and then shows him into the kitchen.
He really needs to clean the stove, he thinks, but maybe it’s not a problem now - after all Theon isn’t staring at the mess all over it. He’s staring at the counter, which is covered in flour still - right, because he made the pasta himself -, and at the oven where he had left the starters to keep warm (he made enough gnocco fritto for at least five people). He also left the tagliatelle with duck ragu sauce in the pot so they wouldn’t go cold but you can definitely guess his choices from the smell. Also, since he needed some sausage for the pasta anyway he cooked the rest for a second course, and that’s also visible in the oven.
“You made all that in one afternoon? You didn’t have to waste so much time -”
Robb can’t help it - he scratches his neck just to do something with his hands.
“Er, I might have made montblanc from scratch this morning, and that took me all of it pretty much, but not counting dessert - yes? But I mean, it wasn’t a hardship or anything. I wanted to, don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you can’t begin to guess why I didn’t order from the Chinese next door. I have standards.”
There’s a moment in which they just stare at each other again and Theon is swallowing sort of visibly, and then -
“You know what, you don’t have to change.”
“What? No, seriously, I wouldn’t even let my mom look at me with this crap on. And it’s also dirty, I’m feeling way underdressed here -”
“Robb, you really don’t need to. Actually, I’d rather you didn’t. That outfit has a certain charm to it.”
“I doubt that, but if you insist.” Robb shrugs, figuring that it saves him the time it’d take to find some clothes since he hadn’t, well, gotten them ready before. Obviously. He goes to put the rose wine in the fridge and takes out his Lambrusco.
“So,” he says, “I can get the starters out or we can just have some wine now and eat later? I’m told my sofa is cozy enough.”
“The sofa sounds good,” Theon says, and he sounds strangled but not in a bad way. Robb leads him to the living room - and Theon does notice that he had set everything already -, taking two glasses with from the table as he walks, before they both sit in front of the fireplace that was already in here (the house is old and Robb is renting, but he never bothered trying to turn it on when he has perfectly serviceable heating). Robb fills up their glasses a quarter, they probably shouldn’t finish the wine before starting to eat, and he tries not to look at his stained shirt.
“I really feel underdressed, though,” he says after the first sip, figuring someone in between needs to break the silence.
“You shouldn’t,” Theon says, and it seems like he does like what he’s drinking - good. “I mean, why would you?”
“Because you look like some fashion ad and I’m wearing a stained shirt I bought for ten quid back when I was in high school?”
“It’s not - wait, I look like a fashion ad?”
Robb doesn’t know how does Theon sound surprised at that. He doesn’t answer have you looked in a mirror lately because he has a feeling it’d be a fairly horrid idea - instead he takes another drink and puts his glass on the ground. “It was meant to be a compliment,” he says instead.
Theon huffs and half-smirks again and shit, Robb needs to find a way to tell him he should do that more often.
“Guess so,” he says, and then he finishes his wine in one go. When he turns back towards Robb his cheeks are flushed. “Let’s say that you might not look like a fashion ad, but if I see you in your current outfit I’m reminded that you actually spent all that time cooking me dinner and - let’s just say the last person I had the disgrace to be in a relationship with wouldn’t have even brewed me some cheap tea, let alone - that. I guess.”
Robb tries not to choke on his drink.
“Can I say something - I mean, if I’m inappropriate we can just drop it.”
“Sure.”
“If that person has anything to do with the fact that you obviously didn’t want Caesar salad yesterday or the reason you think I would be wasting time with you, it’s a really good thing they aren’t here right now because I’m quenching some fairly homicidal instincts.”
Theon swallows visibly again. “That person has all to do with that, and - well, take it for what it’s worth but yesterday was about the first time I felt like I could get over them for good, and before you start being too nice for this world again and tell me that if we’re going too fast we can slow down, thanks but no thanks. If I wanted to take it slow I wouldn’t have come to your place, would I?”
Robb can see the reasoning - he moves slightly closer and when he puts a hand on Theon’s arm it doesn’t get shrugged away.
He doesn’t know if he’s ever felt so strongly about not wanting to fuck a date up. Probably not.
“I’m kind of flattered now,” he says. “You mind if I try to prove you right or you’d rather eat first?”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Nothing that would require losing clothes,” he says, and then he realizes that if he moves any closer he’s going to stain Theon’s nice, clean shirt, and -
Well, fuck that.
“At least for one of us,” he adds, and moves back just a bit. He can see Theon’s eyes go wide as Robb takes off his shirt and throws it behind himself, remaining with his bare chest.
“What -”
“Theon, that shirt was freshly ironed and it’s obvious you washed it recently, I wasn’t going to stain it with ragu sauce. I might have spent one day in there but I’ll be damned if you didn’t spend at least half an hour getting ready and I can appreciate that. My last girlfriend only ever dressed up when we had to go out, which wasn’t that often since with the hours I make it had to be negotiated.”
“Can I ask what happened or -”
“Sure you can. Turns out she was cheating on me because I was never available and most times I just had afternoons free. With the hours my job requires and all. Except that it lasted a year and a half, she could have just dumped me first, and she never tried to work it out.”
“Wait a moment, you’re saying someone actually cheated on you?”
“Why, is that so hard to believe?”
Theon almost scoffs. “Listen, it’s not been that long since I met you but I’m fairly sure that if you’re with someone who’s willing to spend one day cooking you dinner, who pulls the stunt you pulled with me yesterday and who’s also definitely not hard on the eyes, if you cheat on them you need to have a few screws loose. Ah, damn, that probably sounded -”
“Theon?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s appreciated,” Robb says, and then he decides that maybe neither of them wants to keep stalling, and so he moves on very slowly, enough that Theon could stop him if he wanted.
Theon stares at him, licks his lips for a moment, and doesn’t stop him.
Robb leans forward and kisses him.
He keeps it nice and slow on purpose - he doesn’t try to go for the tongue, not yet, but he doesn’t even go for full-on chaste. He presses their lips together firmly instead, his hand going slowly to the back of Theon’s head, and damn but yes, he washed his hair before going out, Robb can feel it if he hadn’t been one hundred percent sure before. And then it happens that Theon stays still for a moment, but then he sighs and presses back, kind of arching up against Robb’s palm, and damn but the man can kiss - in the end there is a bit of tongue involved, though not overtly so, and by the time they’re done Robb’s palm has moved to Theon’s cheek, which is warm and slightly flushed under his fingertips, and damn but he wants to do it again as soon as Theon feels likewise.
“Well,” Theon breathes out, “that was something.”
“I shouldn’t take it back, then?”
“I think,” Theon breathes out, fairly slow, and Robb can feel him shivering while he runs his fingertips over Theon’s cheekbones, “that before this goes overboard, maybe we should eat so your effort doesn’t go to waste, and then if there’s more where that came from -”
“There’s a lot where that came from,” Robb says.
“Then you’re more than welcome to show me. And you don’t have to put that shirt on, though maybe during dinner it might be a good idea. Or I’d never finish it and I’d hate to.”
“I think,” Robb says slowly, their mouths still inches from each other, “that I’m entirely down with that plan.” He reaches back, takes his shirt and puts it back on again, stains and all, and then he holds a hand out while he leans back down and presses his lips to Theon’s cheekbone once.
“So, should we?”
Theon smirks at him in a way that makes Robb’s knees go weak.
“Fuck yes, we definitely should,” he says, and then lets Robb drag him upward and towards the table.
And while Robb does their fingers thread together, and damn but Theon doesn’t actually drop his hand until he’s taking a seat and Robb is hurrying to the kitchen to grab the starters.
Well, he thinks to himself, Sansa will gloat for life when he tells her, but it’s only too right if she takes the credit, isn’t it?
End.