Chapter Text
If there’s one thing Felix would change about himself, it’s how susceptible he is to sympathetic embarrassment. When he was a kid, watching other kids getting teased had been enough to make him cry, and he still cringes inside when someone else does something stupid, even if he can at least keep a straight face these days. Most of the time, anyway.
And of course that’s all it is tonight, as the minutes tick by and table fourteen remains a table for one. Just sympathetic embarrassment for a guy who’s clearly been stood up by his date and is too something–-optimistic? naïve? stubborn?–-to admit it. That the guy is cute has nothing to do with anything.
“It doesn’t,” Felix insists in a low voice as he reaches across the bar to take the bottle of wine Table Fourteen has been nursing for the last hour. “It’s just a shitty thing to do to someone, and I feel bad for him.”
“Of course,” Dorian says, too serious to actually be serious. “I’m sure your phone number would make him feel better.”
Felix ignores that the way it deserves and crosses the dining room, trying to make his expression some happy medium between professional and sympathetic. Because he is sympathetic, but he also doesn’t want the guy to think he’s being laughed at. Laughing is definitely not what Felix is doing behind his back.
Drooling, maybe, but not laughing.
“Would you like another glass?” Felix murmurs when he’s standing at the table.
The guy sighs and pokes his phone with a dejected finger. “Sure.”
His tone is so glum that Felix can’t help himself. “I’m sorry,” he says. “It’s really rude of her to stand you up like this.”
“What?” The guy blinks up at him, startled, then flushes and looks away. “It’s fine. Shouldn’t have said yes anyway. Fucking blind dates.” The flush creeps higher across his face. “Ummm, sorry. Pardon my language.”
“I’ve heard the word before,” Felix says with a smile, and he feels a little thrill when it gets an answering smile, however reluctant.
“Yeah, prob'ly.” The guy hooks a finger under the knot of his tie and tugs at it, something he’s done about a hundred times tonight. Felix watches from the corner of his eye and bites his tongue on an offer to help with the tie, and the suit jacket, and the shirt. Something he’s done about a hundred times tonight.
In an effort to redirect his thoughts, Felix hefts the wine bottle a little and asks, “Did you want to finish it off?”
The guy picks up his phone and fiddles with it. “I’m Carver.” He doesn’t look at Felix when he says it, and his tone is nearly belligerent.
It’s pretty aggressive for an introduction, but the last hour would leave anyone in a bad mood, so he just says, “I’m Felix.”
“I know,” Carver says, still toying with his phone. “I remember.”
When Carver says nothing else, Felix tries one last time. “Did you want something else to drink? Or should I just bring the check?”
“Sorry,” Carver mutters, still sounding angry. “I shoulda left, didn’t mean to take up your table.”
“It’s fine,” Felix assures him. Which is only half a lie. Thursday night isn’t exactly busy, and Felix certainly hasn’t minded the scenery.
“No…ummm…” Carver stalls out, his fingers tightening on his phone. “I…ummm…I was going to leave, but…?”
Felix waits expectantly, for a question, or a statement, or a something, but Carver just stares at his phone like it’s personally offended him. Eventually, Felix prompts gently, “But…?”
“Him,” Carver blurts out, almost talking over Felix.
Without thinking, Felix glances around the dining room, trying to figure out who Carver is talking about. “Him who?”
“Him,” Carver repeats more emphatically, but this time he goes on. “You said…you said it was rude of her to stand me up.”
And while Felix is still digesting that, Carver straightens in his chair and finally faces him, looking like a man about to throw himself off a cliff and hope his parachute works. “And I was going to leave thirty minutes ago, except if I did, I couldn’t get your number, could I?”