Work Text:
Olly
I hate the British Railway system. I know I have to use it. It’s a given, but it’s loud and overwhelming and connections always spike my anxiety. I know how to go from my parents’ place in Rochester to London and then to my flat at university, but I really loathe navigating the underground even if the rainbow rail lines are pretty to look at.
My phone pings with a message from David. He’s on his way to the restaurant we’re supposed to meet at. Some bougie French place that makes the best coq au vin or something. He rattled off some other things that made no sense, but I understood ratatouille. He sounded so competent and sexy saying it, though, which makes sense as his dad is French. Oui oui, monsieur.
It’s our first proper dinner date, and I feel so grown up even if I won’t tell him that. I don’t want him to think I’m too young or this is a mistake. Oscar and Bailey were giving me a hard time about it, though, and Bailey’s girlfriend of the week went on about how he’s grooming me, and I told her to fuck right off. I’m not a child. I’m not a prude, and while I’m cool taking it slow, I want his girthy dick. Sue me.
My signal is hit and miss in the tube, but David and I chat as I make my way to him. We’re meeting somewhere near Hyde Park, which I guess is near where he lives, but it’s confusing as fuck. I should be paying more attention to where I’m going, but things have gotten heated.
David 🍆
Verbena is the best part! How can you not like a cheeky housekeeper?
Me
love a cheeky housekeeper but her name is chessy and youre wrong
David 🍆
I’m not saying a word…
Me
i dont believe you 😜
David
I arrive early at le Grosse Bite and check in. They tell me they need to wait until Olly is here to seat us but offer me a spot at the bar. I order a gin and tonic and check my phone. Olly’s been texting me while he takes the train. Service has been spotty, but that’s London. We’ve started flirting more by text, and he’s trying to convince me to get Snapchat and TikTok. I resist. I don’t need more clutter on my phone and in my life, but he’s persistent.
I get a notification and see he’s taken the bait on our ongoing Parent Trap argument. I smile at his reply.
O 🏰🐕
i dont believe you 😜
He completely missed the reference, and I make a note to invite him over to watch the original superior film to close the gap. I’m tempted to finish the line by sending him a gif of Verbena when he lobs another cheeky argument my way.
O 🏰🐕
besides the best part is dennis quaid hes so much more fuckable than brian keith 😈
Okay, I can put up with the missing capital letters and punctuation, but those are fighting words. Yes, Natasha Richardson is beautiful and less matronly than Maureen O’Hara, but Dennis Maga Quaid over Daddy Keith. No. Just no.
Me
If you ask me, old school is always better.
O 🏰🐕
spoken like a true conservative boris did you support brexit too
Me
Exsqueeze me, I did not. It’s bad economic policy.
O 🏰🐕
🤣🤣🤣 you literally said exsqueeze me thats so cringe
Me
Cringe doesn’t even mean anything. I’m surprised, Olly. I thought you had better values than that .
(I’m teasing by the way.)
In case that wasn’t clear.
O 🏰🐕
hey my values are solid!
i value good dick thats solid
Me
Scandalous. You’re lucky I like you a lot lol
Olly replies with a variety of new Parent Trap gifs until they slow down, and I’m left with one of the modern Meredith saying “Being young and beautiful’s not a crime, you know.” I can’t help but smile. He’s right. It’s not a crime, but it might deserve a little punishment later if we both get lucky. And based on his teasing, we might.
Time passes. I finish my gin and tonic and order another, this time sipping it slowly as I wait. I’m sure Olly’s just deep underground and will be here sooner than later. Still, his silence makes me worry. I hope I didn’t offend him with the Parent Trap bashing. It’s all banter, or supposed to be. I still haven’t worked out all of Olly’s nuances, nor has he worked out all of mine.
If Nick told him, he might already know that our parents divorced when I was a tween. He might have an inkling of how that affected both of us. Maybe not. Nick puts on a brave face most of the time and ignores his feelings. I kind of hope Charlie helps him face them.
I guess that’s why Parent Trap hits. It was one of my mum’s favourites, and we often watched it as a family on dvd when we were still a foursome. We’d joke about how crazy that life must be like until it wasn’t funny. When Mum and Papa got divorced, Nick asked if we could try some of their schemes but didn’t get that we’re not identical twins and the custody arrangement is unrealistic.
It didn’t matter. Papa never wanted custody anyway, and it became clear — to me, at least — that Mum was better off without him. We all were. Okay, maybe not better off because the divorce fucked us all over, but I don’t need him, not when I have Brian Keith to imagine as daddy. Aw, fuck it. Now I’m getting sappy and sad, and I don’t want Olly to see me like this.
He’s now officially late, and the host tells me they can’t hold our reservation.
Olly
Fuck fuck fuck fuck. I take the wrong train and only realise it two stops later when the announcement says I’m bound for Paddington and not Victoria Station. I blame David and his distracting texts. It’s his fault I started thinking of hot daddies in the first place. Fuck, I hate trains as much as the necessity of them. I don’t even care where I end up. I just want off.
I get off at the next stop and look at the maps and lines, completely overwhelmed by all the choices and arrows. Do I go back on the same line? Is there a better line to take? Where do I begin?
Even worse, I can’t get reception right now to let David know I’ll be late. He’ll be so mad at me. At least, I think he will.
I follow the mass of people and watch my phone until I get a signal. Once I do, I call the only person I trust to help me. Charlie.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks immediately.
“Why do you always think something’s wrong? Can’t I call my brother randomly?” I reply. I can hear his slow blink on the other end. I word vomit over the phone. “Fine. I’m in London and took the wrong train and I’m lost and don’t know where to go to get to this French restaurant called the big dick or something which I’m supposed to be at… ten minutes ago.”
“Okay, let me make sure I got all that. You’re late for dinner–“
“Yes!”
“You’re using the underground? But you’re not sure where you’re supposed to be in relation to where you are, correct?”
“Exactly. What should I do?”
Charlie sighs, and my nose wrinkles because I can hear his disappointment. I think it’s disappointment, at least. Finally, he says, “What station are you at?”
“Embankment.”
“Oh, god, why are you there?” Charlie mutters like I fucking know.
“Not helpful, Charles.”
“What color lines do you see and what were you on? Or do you know the names?”
“Brown, yellow, and green,” I say confidently, adding with less confidence, “I don’t know the line names by heart, thank you. I was on the yellow.” Charlie makes some muffled sounds on the other end and I hear Nick responding.
“The restaurant, is it le Diktat de de Gaulle maybe? Or le Grosse Bite?” Charlie’s accent is rougher than David’s but I recognize the sounds.
“That one! The second!”
“Okay, hold on.” The muffled conversation resumes. I’d bet money they have the whole route worked out without needing the app or map.
“Alright, so pay close attention,” Charlie begins, and I feel I’ve won my bet. “You need to take the central line — that’s green — towards Richmond or West Ealing. Don’t worry about which. They both work. Do you see that line?”
I check the signs on the wall and find the line but two directions and no destination. “West or east?”
“West. Then take it directly to West Kensington. Nick thinks you should take exit 3 because it will drop you off near the restaurant.”
“How does he know this?”
Charlie grunts. “His brother lives in that area, and he takes that line to get there when they visit.”
Of course... I take a deep breath. I don’t think this tips them off that I’m kind of sort of seeing his brother, but I should have said Nando’s or some other chain. I play it cool, though. “How is David doing?”
“Fine,” Charlie says crisply. “They’re getting along better, so that’s good, but he’s still too bro for me.”
He’ll be a ho for me, I think, suppressing a giggle.
“Bros can be fun… bro.” I can practically hear Charlie’s eyes roll through the fading connection as I reach the fork in the underground. “Okay, I'm at the crossroads. East?”
“West!” They both shout through the phone. I follow their advice and get on the correct platform, confirming I’m on the right track before saying goodbye. Whew.
With my last remaining bars of connection, I message David that I took the wrong train and am getting off at West Kensington in fifteen minutes. I even apologise for fucking up so totally. I just hope it doesn’t ruin the date.
David
Twenty more minutes pass as I remain at the bar, waiting for Olly and trying to come up with a new plan. I’m a little annoyed, but my desire to see him is bigger. I suppose I might have been a bit intense picking a fancy dinner after only one official date, and that so casual, walking around (and snuggling) at a castle. We haven’t even kissed yet, and I really want to. I’d like to ask him for a kiss tonight, but I fear I’ve lost the perfect opening for a romantic mood without this restaurant.
I try calling him a few times, but it goes directly to his voicemail. I’m about to give up when I get a ping. And then a flood of messages come in; I think they’re out of order, but I try to make sense of them.
O 🏰🐕
i got on the wrong train
you live in a bougie neighbourhood
im lost
be 10 minutes late
how much money do you actually make
dont be mad at me
fuck im on the other side of town
on my way W Ken in 15 SORRY
okay brian keith is bangable
where am i
i really tried
My heart almost breaks. All of my annoyance evaporates as I piece together what happened and understand how he feels. He seems utterly overwhelmed, and I remember what it’s like taking the train and how confusing it can be. I slap down enough notes to cover my drinks, leaving half of the second still in the glass, and rush to the station so I can meet him.
I don’t know which door he’d exit from, so I use my pass to get to the main area where all the lines meet. I scan the crowd, going onto my toes to see over heads, when I feel a crashing against my back and two arms wrapping around my front. I’m immediately tense.
“Oh, thank god!” Olly cries, and I relax, knowing it’s him and not a mugger. He doesn’t let go, but I try to turn myself around in his arms so I can look at him. Once he sees my face, his own bursts into crimson. “I’m so sorry. Don’t hate me.”
I’m not sure if he’s dramatically exaggerating how he thinks I feel or if he’s serious, but I want to comfort him. I gently cup his cheeks, warm against my palms, and make sure to gaze into his eyes so he can perceive and accept all the patience and fondness I’m feeling right now.
“It’s alright, Olly. I’m not mad. We all get lost from time to time.”
“You say that, but you don’t know how often I mess up the trains,” he cautiously replies. He blinks slowly down at me, rich brown pools brimming with earnest remorse. His eyelashes are insanely long. His hands are nervous, lightly clutching at my waist now. His hesitance is charming, but I also don’t want him to ever be afraid to be himself around me.
“Then I’ll have to be with you on these adventures to learn, won’t I?”
I hope it sounds cute and flirty and not condescending. I’m not about to admit it, but I would love to spend more time together. A lot more time.
“Is that an invitation for another date?” Olly’s shoulders release, and he stands taller. I note he’s dressed smartly in chinos and a button up. It doesn’t feel like him, but I gather he dressed for the restaurant. We can still salvage the evening. I step back, our arms falling to our sides, and tilt my head towards the correct exit.
“Come on, I know a place where we can get something easy, like some starters. I feel like some chicken satay. I bet you’re as hungry as I am.”
“Yeah, but I don’t eat meat,” Olly informs me as he falls into step at my side. I remembered, and the place I have in mind has some wonderful veg options. Before I can share that, though, Olly adds with a cheeky wink, “Well, not that kind.”
“Oh, that’s good to know because I have a special meat in mind for you,” I reply, winking back. “Eventually.”
Olly’s mouth drops open for a moment before it bends into a shy smile. “Mum always said the best things in life are worth the wait.”
“Then you must be the best,” I say with a defiant lift of my chin and a playful scrunch of my nose. Okay, it’s a little cringe and maybe, I realise after the quip escapes me, a little passive aggressive, but he seems to like it anyway.
“Oh, you have no idea.” His sass has reemerged in full force, his body all loose swagger again.
I think I do have an idea, actually. He was worth waiting for tonight, and I like that we’re waiting for each other, waiting for each part of this journey to find its place in the sequence. It takes as long as it takes. Wrong trains and all.
I really want to kiss him, but it feels too public, too inappropriate here. Well, that and all the people pushing past us. It’d be too rough, and I want our first kiss to be slow and sweet. For now, I take his hand to guide him out from the underground.
We get about a quarter of the way down the street when he catches me glancing at him one too many times, I guess, because he giggles and pulls me into a small space between two shops. I frown up at him, confused, and he shakes his head slightly.
“Nothing bad. I just think we’re both hungry for a little something before your starters and satay.” He’s staring at my lips.
Oh!
We sway in place, chests almost grazing. I lift one hand towards his face, tentative, and he hums softly, nodding and shuffling his feet closer. Settling my fingertips lightly on the hinge of his jaw, I run the pad of my thumb over his mouth, and he turns his head quickly to kiss it. We reset and I rest it in the center of his bottom lip. It’s plump and smooth.
This is still public, but we’re out of the way of the foot traffic and it’s dark and nobody cares. I find it doesn’t matter to me as much as I thought it did. We can be slow and sweet right here. The world shrinks down to just us, just this moment. Just the hot air swirling in the scant inches remaining between us as he leans down, moving like treacle.
I meet him in the middle, a firm press of our bodies — lips, then torso, then one hip and part of a thigh as we sink into each other. My hand has slid around to the side of his neck, his arms have come up around me, I find my other hand has grasped his belt. I lose track of it once more, tasting him.
He’s opening up to me now, but it’s still leisurely. He’s rich like honey, with a hint of chemical fruitiness. We gradually shift so our tilting is perfectly complementary, falling into alignment like we’ve done this a dozen times already. I’m lost in the feel of him, in the way we fit. Both of us content to explore just this, just lips and wet warmth.
Finally, we break apart and I try to catch my breath whilst simultaneously checking in with him. He’s grinning at me, and I’m sure my face must match almost immediately. But then he squints and wiggles his chin like a very satisfied cartoon kitten.
“Mmmm,” he murmurs, “I think I love the British Railway system.”