A/N: This was sittin' around in my fanfic folder doing nothing. Might as well upload it I guess idk
In the end, what sounds better: rain, thunder and frigid cold winds that refuse to let up whilst you wait for a lift from your brother who you're not sure even got your text asking for him to pick you up, or sitting in a snug booth in your town's best (only) pizzeria with very close proximity between you and your crush. And when you say very close proximity you mean when Jake freaking English decided to sit that flaming close to you a literal shiver ran up your spine.
The place is pretty rundown, shabby and in an extremely seedy part of town but makes a great deep dish pepperoni. Some overplayed song is quiet and crackled on the faulty radio that sits on the counter beside a very blasé looking employee. She coils her unruly black hair around an olive finger, her other hand occupied by her phone as she texts someone, pale eyes flicking up every now and then to keep an eye on her co-worker meandering around tables, gathering menus and glasses left by recently departed customers. She'd nodded and beamed with almost sickly sweet enthusiasm when Jake had lugged you inside out of the rain and asked for a quick order of fries and a small mushroom pizza (you don't like mushroom, but you didn't say anything about it) but when you'd retreated to a booth near the back of the restaurant she'd adopted the most empty, apathetic look you think you've ever seen a girl display.
You, Jake, alter-ego counter lady and her table attending counterpart are the soul inhabitants since that family of four and their annoying screaming baby vacated the premises. Four sullen, rather miserable looking teenagers clinging to whatever warmth they can find as a storm billows away outside and a relatively simple order of fries and a pizza takes a practical eternity.
You take to checking your phone frequently, turning a blind eye to how close Jake's arm is to yours, and how if you inclined just a little his head would be resting against your shoulder. Dave hasn't replied yet and no matter how many times you lock and unlock your phone only to be disappointed and be forced to look back up at the walls the colour of sun-bleached salon posters is beginning to play havoc with your brain. You suspect the storm is interfering with the signal of many people's phones around town, and that you're not the only person suffering this problem, but that begs the question as to why the girl at the counter is busy texting away – unless she's playing a game, but you can't tell, you're no psychic.
"So, you looked pretty darn cold out there you know, Strider." Jake breaks the ever thickening silence with what you think might be a conversation starter, but you're tired, hungry and socially inept, not to mention face to face with your crush who is very conveniently snuggled up against your sweater clad side with not the slightest bit of shame. "You could've caught your death out there; you really ought to be more careful."
You swallow slightly, finger tugging at the corners of your sweater, soaked through so severely that the light grey fibres were a hue almost dark enough to match that of the raging storm outside; you would have taken it off, but you assume that being left in only a button up shirt would do you even worse in this darn cold. You try not to make eye contact with him, not now that you had to take your shades off to prevent Hal from short circuiting in the rain.
"Yeah, I was waiting for someone." If you were at a keyboard you would have typed out at least three cleverly worded, sarcastic quips that really push Jake's buttons by now but, alas, Dirk Strider is only a wordsmith when given time and lack of human contact. Otherwise? Yeah, no, sorry for the disappointment. No one's gettin' no snappy comebacks till you're comfortable with them.
And if one thing was certain, you were nowhere near as comfortable with Jake as you wish you could be.
"Someone?" Jake prods, ever curious and somewhat annoying. "Come on now, surely any old person wouldn't be good enough reason for you to waste your time sitting out in the rain and freezing your butt off."
That elicits a chuckle, if only a little one, but enough to make Jake shift slightly beside you and, if you're not mistaken, just a little closer. His thigh is pressed to yours, his skinny torso turned against your shoulder and head tilted somewhat coyly. He's quite a bit smaller than you, both in height and stature, and if he were to adjust himself just a slight bit more he would fit almost perfectly against your side, possibly with one of your arms slung lazily over his shoulder. You know you're a while off for such an affectionate gesture yet.
"My brother. I texted him a while back to come collect me after fencing, " ,you gesture at your fencing rapier that you'd discarded on the seat next to your soaked through trench coat. "But, uh, I think the storm is meddling with my signal because he hasn't replied yet, also I think the message might still be sending." You shrug a little which you think would equate in Roxy's terms to "idek man" and glance back at Jake. You can't help but notice the affectionate squint he wears, a pair of opulent green eyes gazing at you through the wall of pearly raindrops speckled on the lenses of his glasses. It's almost embarrassing that you can admit to yourself that you've found yourself admiring his eyes before, but in all previous predicaments you did it a lot more discreetly.
You realise you're staring and cough a little, "Besides, you haven't really explained why you were trekking happily through town in the middle of a storm either. You looked like you were about to start performing a number from Singing in the Rain any second."
Right, building confidence, make jokes, be cool = he doesn't end up thinking you're a total loser by the end of all this.
"Simple as grabbing groceries my chum." He grins, "The storm hadn't started when I'd headed out and by the time I had my milk and eggs the sky was quite clouded over." Jake taps at his rather stuffed rucksack on the seat beside him, you assume that's where he shoved his groceries. "I saw you in the rain, shivering and shaking and decided that it would be awfully ungentlemanly of me to leave you out in the cold like that when there's a nice, warm pizzaplace just round the corner where we could grab a bite to eat and bash ears for a bit."
Bash ears, oh my God, he speaks like he's been dragged out of the rip roarin' 20s and you love it.
"Well that was awful nice of you." you reply, nervous fingers trailing up to scratch the back of your neck; a classic manoeuvre in films used when subtly flirting that you literally just utilised subconsciously, what on earth are you doing.
"A man has to keep up his status of being polite, does he not?" Jake simpers back, just the shyest hint of that bucktoothed overbite showing from beneath his top lip. When the corner of his mouth quirks just the slightest bit higher than you think it should something tells you that perhaps he is subtly flirting back.
Wow, you should not be staring at his mouth.
"Fries and mushroom pizza." The waitress girl murmurs in a thick Asian accent and dumps a basket of soggy fries and wooden dish with a very sad looking pizza on it. Jake thanks her and places a handful of bills into her hand, she lingers just a little too long for your liking and the acrid stench of cigarette smoke still floats in the air as she leaves, messy bun of scruffy black hair bobbing behind her.
Jake takes a quick glance at the poor excuse for a mushroom pizza on the table before him and grimaces slightly, reaching for a slice with hesitant fingers.
"Should've got the pepperoni." You say, grabbing a piece of your own and plucking the mushrooms from it, "It's the only one they can do well at this place."
Jake nods his head in agreement and takes a few bites of the pizza, placing it back down on the dish in preference and reaching for the fries instead. He chews thoughtfully on a handful and tugs nervously at the zip of his windbreaker as his eyes roam over you for a while.
Had it been anyone you would have asked why he was staring so intensely, and kind of creepily, a while ago, but right now you want nothing more than to sit around licking cheese and tomato sauce off of your lips whilst Jake English keeps his eyes very firmly locked on said action.
Suddenly you hope it looks at least somewhat attractive rather than just making you look like you're slobbering all over yourself.
When Jake licks his own lips in turn you're put at ease.
"How're the fries?" you ask through a mouthful of plain pizza that you'd thankfully managed to eradicate of any trace of mushroom. Jake nods a little frantically, almost looking flustered that you'd so blatantly interrupted him whilst he'd stared unashamedly your way.
"Uh, good. Kind of soggy I must say but what is an authentic local diner experience if not served with a closet case dish or two." He giggles a little nervously, smoothing down his coat and t-shirt before turning back to you, some look of anxiousness in those resplendent viridian eyes.
"I wonder, Dirk, if it wouldn't be quite such a botheration to you," he swallows, carefully picking at a loose thread on the hem of his t-shirt. Suddenly, despite every ounce of confidence that you'd somehow managed to muster up over the last half an hour or so, you feel very nervous all over again. At least this time you're not the only one, "Perhaps, whatever this was, I mean … I mean, you and I just, kind of, sitting around and just having a jolly good chat, over … well I suppose you could say over dinner." He pauses, clutching the hem of his t-shirt so tightly you swear his knuckles are turning white, and that's a feat for someone with his skin tone – his, admittedly, very attractive skin tone. "Okay, I hope I'm not cruisin' for a bruisin' here but," Wow, he actually just said that. "I wonder if before I have to, uh, cop a breeze, um, agitate the gravel as it were –"
"Jake, just quit it with the old timey slang and tell me what you're trying to say." You snap, maybe a little too sternly. Jake seems taken aback by your sudden brashness, and you rest a hand on his shoulder as reassurance, giving as small a smile as you'll allow.
"Right, yes, you're quite right mate, I do tend to ramble sometimes don't I?" the faintest hint of a blush is visible on his dark olive cheeks. "It's just that … maybe before I have to go we can arrange to … I don't know. Do this again? Just, grab another pizza or a drink together or something? I don't really mind what it is we do – well, that is if you want to at all! I mean, it's not like I'm requesting more simply suggesting –"
"Yeah." You interject before Jake can continue to rant further. You almost outright grin when his face lights up completely, but can't help but let out a little smirk. "Yeah, sure, it'd be fun. I'd love to."
"So it's uh," Jake flushes again and runs his thumb over the zip of his coat again, "It's a date I guess?"
Your stomach does a back flip and your heart kicks into maximum overdrive and you're pretty sure your brain just switched itself off. You can practically hear Hal laugh electronically at you from where he sits in your trench coat pocket.
"A date." You manage to reply, "A date, yeah, we can call it that."
Jake smiles so sweetly you swear you just got a cavity and hell if you're not going to grin back. He stands up, zips up his coat and grabs his rucksack before saying.
"Well, I've got to leave, Gramma will be wondering where I've got too but, I think Roxy gave me your number a while back so," he runs a hand through his hair, ruffling it further which you didn't even think was possible, "I'll text you. You know, when we go out for uh, our date."
In one swift, perfect moment that you almost can't believe even happened, Jake leans down and kisses you on the cheek, thanks the girl at the counter for the meal and leaves, flashing you one last, crooked smile and calling,
"I think your brother's here by the way."
"Sorry I didn't get here sooner." Dave mutters when you climb in the car beside him. He's checking his reflection in the rear view mirror, fixing his hair and running his hands over the perfectly even mask of blonde stubble around his angular chin. He coughs and flicks his shades onto his forehead before starting the ignition, it's a decided rule in the Strider household that no matter how sick you look you do not where shades whilst driving. Come on man, you're not freaking lunatics. "Your text only came in like ten minutes ago, but I was at the camera parts store down the road so I wasn't too far off." He ducks his head and squints out the window, "Megido's Pizza? Jeez, grotty place man. I know the chick who works there though; Aradia, she's cool, met her at one of my…"
Dave continues to ramble for a while and you refrain to reply as you buckle in your seatbelt, kicking your feet up on the rickety dashboard. Dave taps your shoulder once, gains no reply, and then flicks you behind the ear, chuckles a little bit at your irritated surprise.
"C'mon man you're starin' at that window like it's some of your weird puppet trash, what's got into you?" Dave pulls out of the lay by beside the pizzeria and begins driving noisily down the road which was in dire need of re-pathing. He tugs at his tie a little, still tight because he'd probably only just got out of work when he'd headed down to the camera store. You sigh a little in reply.
"Nothin' much."