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Jaime is confident.
At least that’s how he appears to others.
Cool and collected when a Scarab latched onto his spine.
When the Reach came for him.
And now, when he asked Bart out.
It was after a boring recon mission, Jaime and Bart were talking about the team’s romance drama. Kon versus M’Gann and La’gaan were the hot topic around the mountain. Jaime made a cute joke that the two of them would make a real power couple. But Bart didn’t make a snarky remark, he just shrugged and scratched the back of his head.
That’s when Jaime understood.
The two of them WOULD make the ultimate power couple.
That and they’ve all but admitted to being into each other for months.
That night was how Jaime found himself in front of his mirror in his bedroom, almost his entire closet splayed out across his bed like he’s Barbie.
Tonight is it.
Jaime and Bart’s first date.
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Bart yawned, sitting in his chair, staring at the computer screen, chicken wizzie packets dotted around the floor, like a vague abstract art exhibit. A hot summer night, Bart stretched, wearing pyjama bottoms and no shirt, his thin body and pale skin accentuating his smaller frame, and his pyjama’s showing off his more childish tendencies. Something he’s gotten better at doing since he revealed to Jaime he wasn’t always the bubbly speedster he pretended to be when he first came back to the past, that being a jokester doesn’t come as easy to Bart as he’s let on.
Bart heard Joan call his name, he pulled out an earphone.
“Huh?”
Joan called out again.
“Your friend is here!”
Bart took out the other earphone and paused his game.
“Which one?”
Joan walked into the bedroom.
“The tall one.”
Bart stood up, stretching his arms above his head lazily.
“Doesn’t clear it up.”
Joan chuckled, a soft smile on her face.
“The one you’d call…handsome.”
Bart’s eyes went wide.
“Jaime’s here!?”
Bart jumped up, using his speed to change quickly into a basic red t-shirt and black shorts.
“Why is Jaime here?”
Joan scolded Bart for his room being a mess again as Bart moved past her to look down the staircase.
Jaime stared up at Bart, giving a small wave, his smile showing off his dimples, wearing a sleek dark blue suit and tie.
“Jaime?”
Bart put his hands on the banisters and lifted his legs off the stairs, sliding down like a little kid would.
“Hey Bart.”
Jaime couldn’t help but laugh at Bart’s childish antics.
Bart cocked his head.
“Why are you wearing that?”
Jaime looked down at himself.
“Don’t like it?”
Bart reached out and poked Jaime’s bicep to feel the fabric.
“Like it? You look amazing!”
Jaime felt his face heat up slightly.
“I wanted to look extra fancy for our date.”
Bart’s grin dropped, his heart rate quickened, he let out a squeaked reply.
“T-that’s tonight?”
Jaime shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
“Yeah…”
Bart froze for half a second, then zoomed back up the stairs in a blur. Joan’s hair fluttered in the sudden breeze as she descended the stairs.
“You look lovely Jaime.”
She said softly as she left the hallway.
“Don’t keep Bart out too late!”
Jaime let out a sharp laugh.
“I-I won’t Mrs. Garrick.”
Bart reappeared at the top of the stairs, now dressed in a dark red suit. The jacket was slightly crooked, the tie was askew, and his hair looked like he’d run a marathon through a wind tunnel. But he was beaming.
“How do I look?”
Bart asked, voice a little higher than usual as he rushed back down the stairs.
Jaime smiled wide.
“You look…”
He hesitated, eyes tracing Bart from head to toe.
“Incredible.”
Jaime offered Bart his arm like an old-fashioned gentleman, Bart rolled his eyes playfully at Jaime trying to be romantic, he looped his own arm through Jaime’s.
“Why thank you, señor.”
Bart spoke in an overly dramatic accent.
“De nada…”
Jaime replied, leading Bart out the front door.
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Bart sat across from Jaime, the dim restaurant lighting reflecting off the polished silverware and folded napkins like tiny spotlights. The place smelled faintly of garlic and butter, and the low murmur of other couples made the room feel… intimate. Too intimate for either boy’s liking.
Bart was trying not to fidget. His hands were clasped on the table like he was in a job interview. The red suit was slightly too tight at the shoulders, and the top button of his collar felt like it was slowly strangling him.
Jaime, meanwhile, looked maddeningly comfortable, sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows, jacket still crisp, the faintest smile on his face as he watched Bart study the menu like it was written in alien code. (Which Jaime actually has experience in)
Bart squinted.
“What’s… ‘reduction’?”
“It’s like sauce,”
“Then why not just call it sauce?”
Jaime chuckled softly.
“Because it sounds fancier.”
“Okay, but then what’s ‘au jus’? Is that like juice?”
“Also sauce.”
Bart blinked.
“So they’ve got, like, a million different words for sauce?”
Jaime tilted his head, amused.
“You want me to order for you?”
Bart looked up from the menu, eyes wide.
“No! I can totally do this! I’m sophisticated. I’m classy.”
At that moment, their waiter appeared, a tall, pale man, with the kind of posture that could slice diamonds.
“Good evening, gentlemen,”
He said, his tone perfectly monotone.
“Have you had sufficient time to peruse the menu?”
Bart straightened, suddenly sweating.
“Peruse? Uh… yeah, I totally… perused.”
He nodded earnestly, lips twitching like he was trying not to laugh.
Jaime bit the inside of his cheek to keep from snickering.
Bart leaned forward slightly.
“Can I get two glasses of your finest wine?”
Bart joked, winking at Jaime.
There was a half-second of silence.
Jaime burst out laughing a soft, genuine laugh that made the waiter’s eyebrow twitch.
“Ignore him.”
The waiter eyed the two teenagers, unamused.
“With pleasure.”
He left with the same rigid grace he’d arrived with. Bart exhaled and slumped in his chair.
“I think he hates me.”
Jaime, still smiling, shook his head.
“He doesn’t hate you.”
“He looked like he wanted to throw me out the window.”
“He just takes his job seriously.”
Bart tilted his head, a grin slowly returning.
“Like you, huh?”
Jaime gave him a playful glare.
“You saying I’m uptight?”
“I’m saying if we swapped your armour for his uniform, I wouldn’t notice the difference.”
Jaime laughed again, leaning on his hand.
“Have you ever even had wine?”
Bart shrugged.
“No, Jay and Joan won’t let me. Have you?”
Jaime chuckled softly.
“Once. When I was about nine, I took a sip of my mom’s when she wasn’t looking, she…wasn’t happy with me when I started acting drunk from a sip.”
Bart giggled.
“Oh? Little Jaime was a troublemaker huh? Where’s that boy gone? I think we’d get along great.”
Jaime let out a snorted laugh.
“I am NOT uptight.”
Bart picked up the menu, his eyes only just looking over it at Jaime.
“Sure, but compared to me, you’re the straight man.”
Bart laughed to himself.
“Heh…’straight’...”
Jaime dramatically rolled his eyes.
“Yes Bart, I’m not straight.”
Jaime went to take a sip of water.
Bart winked.
“Oh I know~”
Bart acting cheesy made Jaime laugh out loud, almost choking on his water.
Jaime looked at him fondly, his laughter settling into something quieter, warmer.
“You don’t have to try so hard, cariño.”
Bart blinked. The word hung in the air like a spark.
“I already like you Bart.”
For once, Bart didn’t have a comeback. His face went red, and his fingers toyed with the corner of his napkin.
“…Crash,”
he finally managed, voice barely above a whisper. Then, unable to stop himself, he grinned again.
“Still, I’m ordering the fanciest thing they’ve got. Just to impress you.”
Jaime smirked.
“You mean the dish with a million different kinds of sauce?”
Bart pointed at him.
“Exactly.”
And for the rest of the evening, the tension melted away. Jaime leaned in every time Bart whispered another ridiculous comment about the waiter’s “perfectly judgmental aura,” and Bart beamed every time Jaime laughed.
By the time dessert came, they were both relaxed, knees brushing beneath the table. Bart had no idea what half of what he ate was called, but he knew one thing for sure,
It was the best first date he’d ever had.
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The two teenagers walked out of the restaurant, hand in hand, the arms of their suits brushing against one another. The city lights painted soft streaks across the sidewalk, and the night air carried that faint warmth that only lingered in early summer.
Bart kicked lightly at a pebble on the pavement, his fingers tightening around Jaime’s.
“Hey, uh… sorry again for forgetting about the whole date thing.”
he said, glancing sideways with an embarrassed grin.
“I swear, I didn’t mean to make you show up looking like a supermodel while I was sitting around half-dressed and playing video games.”
Jaime laughed quietly, bumping Bart’s shoulder with his own.
“It’s okay. You still looked cute.”
Bart huffed, face reddening.
“Yeah, but I wanted to, y’know, match your vibe. Be, like, suave and composed and whatever.”
Jaime shook his head, smiling softly as he looked down at Bart.
“Bart… I don’t care if we ever have another fancy date.”
Bart blinked, slowing his steps.
“You don’t?”
“I’d be fine just hanging out in your messy bedroom, eating chicken whizzies, wearing pyjamas,”
Jaime said, winking.
“Or no pyjamas~”
Bart felt his face heat up. No doubt going red at Jaime flirting so…blatantly.
“That’s still a date to me.”
Jaime finished.
For a second, Bart didn’t say anything. His shoulders easing as the tension he’d been carrying all night melted away.
“Careful,”
He said with a smirk.
“You keep saying stuff like that, and I might start thinking you like me.”
Jaime chuckled, leaning in closer.
“Maybe I do.”
Bart’s heart skipped. He stopped walking, tugging gently on Jaime’s hand to make him stop too. Under the streetlight glow, he smiled, a small, shy one this time.
“Good,”
Bart leaned up and kissed Jaime softly, which made Jaime let out a soft squeak.
Bart pulled back, laughing.
“What was THAT noise?”
Jaime shrugged, feeling his face heat up.
“I…I don’t know. Never made that noise before.”
They kept walking, their fingers still intertwined, suits rumpled and ties loosened, laughter echoing down the quiet street.
Jaime is confident.
Except when he’s around Bart.
And he loves it.