Charlie had insisted that Burn wait for him in the car.
Burn was driving of course because Charlie had 'never technically' gotten his license and so his friends did not want to lend them their car. Burn had no horse in the race on that front but he'd rather drive fifty miles out of his way than let Charlie risk himself like that for his sake. Charlie had offered to get one of his friends to drop him off for their date but Burn had rejected that on the grounds that, though he had not phrased it as such to Charlie, they were not fifteen.
Technically Burn still had Charlie's address on file. He had asked for it again anyway, just to make him feel less awkward about the incredible advantage he had over Charlie when it came to knowing the other.
Burn wasn't sure what precisely Charlie did not want him to see by coming up to meet him at his apartment but he did not think he had ever been in such a seedy part of town so it could really be any number of things. He was entirely out of his element.
In the stories, you could always tell when someone was nervous and excited about a date (was this a date? He had gone back and forth for days and eventually decided he would treat it like it was one and if things went badly he would pretend, despite how flimsy a pretense it might be, that it was just a friendly dinner among friends) because they spent hours agonizing over their clothes and tried on ten outfits, perhaps with a friend around to comment on their sartorial choices. It was visual shorthand and made for fun and interesting montages.
Burn wasn't like that and he could only imagine the reactions his friends would have if he had asked that of them. Some of them would probably do it but they'd be ridiculously unhelpful and just end up heckling him and pestering him for details about his date.
Burn wore a grey tweed suit with a dark blue button-up shirt. He had nice shoes on and his hair was neatly combed. He thought he looked rather nice, actually, but he already owned his outfit and had known almost immediately he would be wearing it. They had decided to meet at Guigino's Italian Restaurant because Burn wanted to go somewhere nice and Charlie said they had to go somewhere classy (as if they had not gone to Subway together mere days ago). As it turned out, Charlie did not have a lot of experience with nice restaurants but he had been to Guigino's on multiple occasions and had enjoyed it.
Burn had arrived at Charlie's place twenty minutes early because he was a little nervous and didn't want to be late and make a bad first impression. Given how long they had known each other before this night and the disastrous circumstances of their first encounters it was a ridiculous worry and yet it was one that Burn was experiencing nonetheless. He never liked arriving places early because it was so awkward to be there on his own when no one else was and so he had an unfortunate tendency to overcorrect and find himself rushing to be on time and not late.
But tonight was important and so tonight he was early. He waited fifteen minutes in the car, listening to a lovely podcast about murder and vaguely wondering if perhaps he ought to listen to something else given the situation, before he texted Charlie to announce that he was there. Just because he was very early didn't mean he wanted Charlie to feel pressured to rush or think that he was weird. Not that he thought Charlie would be at all the type to judge but that worry was more his issue than anything Charlie had done.
It was two minutes past the time Burn had promised to be there when Charlie bounded down the stairs and towards Burn's car. He had on a lovely brown suit, a white button-down shirt, and a large burgundy checkered tie. His hair was brushed neatly back instead of the rather charming tousled mess it usually was.
Charlie tried the handle of the passenger seat and Burn waited until he had let go to unlock it.
"Doc! It's great you kept this locked and all but this is kind of a dangerous neighborhood so it's not really safe to be hanging around in that fancy car," Charlie said by way of greeting. "Or, well, at all but especially with the car."
"I was as safe as I could be," Burn said as he started the car. "But I was picking you up, remember? It could not be avoided. And anyway, if it's not safe for me to come by briefly, how is it safe for you to live here?"
Charlie snorted. "It's not. But it's cheap and I've lived here a long time and Frank's friends with like way worse guys. Besides, I bite."
Burn wasn't sure what to make of that last statement or of the strange shiver that ran through him at the words.
"I'll be careful," he said again. "Charlie, you look very nice tonight."
Charlie grinned at him. "You think so? Thanks. Frank likes to go around pretending to be poor and all but only on his terms. We go to Guigino's for our roommate anniversary and so he got me this outfit so I can look all fancy and stuff."
Charlie wore his best clothes to come out with him tonight.
Burn knew that Guigino's did not have a strict dress code. He'd seen people eating there in jeans or sweatpants and while perhaps they stood out and got a few looks from the staff they were not denied service. Charlie had to have known that. And yet he was wearing his very best suit.
"Well you do," Burn said, swallowing, "look very fancy."
"I do?" Charlie asked, suddenly looking uncertain. "Not like, I don't know, white trash or anything?"
Burn glanced over at him. His fists were gripping his pants tightly. "Charlie..."
"Let me guess. You don't believe in the concept of white trash because it's a derog…a derogi…" Charlie huffed out a frustrated breath. "A mean thing to say about people and you don't want to insult people just because they're poor."
"It is a derogatory term," Burn said, watching Charlie mouth the word to himself. "I know I can't really talk as I'm British and we're no better but America has a real class problem it never acknowledges. Being poor does not mean you are a bad person or stupid or lazy or anything else inherently negative. It's too easy to forget that wealth does not determine value. People use all sorts of horrible slurs every day but 'white trash' is one of the last socially acceptable ones because people are largely aware of issues concerning racism, sexism, and homophobia but do not address classism directly. So no, I do not believe in the concept of 'white trash.'"
Charlie tilted his head, looking fond. "What does it say about me that I'm starting to get to know you so well that I knew you'd say that?"
"Perhaps it means you pay attention," Burn said, his breathing quickening a little. "I like that."
"I have my moments," Charlie said, smiling. "But answer the question, Doc. You may not like the word but you know what I mean."
"No, Charlie, you don't look like you don't belong," Burn told him.
It seemed that was the right thing to say because Charlie's grin was blinding and it made Burn's heart soar to see it. Perhaps he glanced over a few more times than he ought to have while he was driving but it really couldn't be helped.
When they parked and got out of the car, Charlie had the chance to properly take in Burn's outfit for the first time.
"Wow, dude, you look hot," he said, looking him up and down.
Burn smiled shyly. "You think so?"
"Oh, definitely, dude. This is us. Just two fancy-looking dudes going to dinner at the best restaurant in town. And no really obvious toupees in sight!"
Burn let out a startled laugh. "Oh, no. I'd like to think that when I start losing my hair I will be able to face it gracefully. But please don't even make me think about you losing yours."
Charlie self-consciously touched his hair. "Oh, you like it?"
"I…It's very…" Burn trailed off awkwardly, his ears burning. "Yes. Very much so. It suits you."
"One time Dee told me it was my best feature," Charlie said. "But she was insulting me at the time so I didn't know if I should take it seriously or not."
The restaurant was busy but Burn had made a reservation so they were quickly shown to their seats.
"Nice," Charlie said appreciatively. "We're not by the kitchen!"
"No, we're not," Burn agreed. "But I must admit I've never really understood what's so bad about sitting there."
Charlie frowned. "Huh. I don't know. But Dennis takes it really personally. That and sitting by the bathrooms."
"It just seems like it'd be more convenient if you were sitting by the bathroom," Burn said.
"Well I guess if you're by the bathroom a lot of people would be walking past your table," Charlie said. "I mean, I wouldn't really care but some people might."
Burn nodded. "I guess I could see that. I can't say it would bother me but there are things that bother me that wouldn't bother other people. And I suppose it might be louder in the kitchen and harder to hear your own conversation if you were seated there."
"The good news is that we don't have to find out about either because we have what Dennis would call a great table," Charlie said brightly.
Burn laughed. "Are we so concerned about Dennis' taste in seating?"
Charlie shrugged. "Well he's the only one who has given me an opinion on the matter."
"Hello, welcome to-Why."
Burn turned to see a waiter looking at Charlie in horror.
"Excuse me?" Burn asked, frowning.
"There are other restaurants in this city. Other nice restaurants. Nicer restaurants. Why do you keep coming here?"
"Is there some sort of problem here?" Burn asked stiffly.
Charlie just looked confused. "Dude, I don't know. I've never seen this guy before in my life."
"That's what you said last time!"
"I really don't know what to tell you," Charlie said apologetically.
"Well why don't you tell us how you believe you know Charlie and if it's a problem perhaps we can move to a different server's section," Burn suggested.
"A few years ago he and a couple of his friends all happened to be here and were being ridiculous and one-upping each other and complaining and just generally being difficult all night," the waiter explained. "I'm talking really ridiculous. There was a song and shots for the whole restaurant and everything. But I'm a professional and I work in the food service industry. I can handle that. But then the woman with them tied by shoelaces together at some point, I think because I wouldn't tie her brother's shoelaces together or something, and I ended up falling and spilling hot spaghetti all over myself! They all laugh it up and go to a table together like nothing happened and they stay two hours past closing and leave a terrible tip. Now they won't even do me the decency of remembering me."
Burn looked at Charlie. "Well?"
"I don't know, that just seems like the kind of thing I would remember? And anyway, it sounds like even if your story was true Dee's the one who tied your shoelaces together so is it really that big of a deal if I laughed? It's like…there's this really cool like dark Sesame Street musical, right? And it has a song about it. It's very German. It's all…S-C-H-A-D-E-N-F-R-E-U-D-E," Charlie sang under his breath. He snapped his fingers. "Schadenfreude. It's very normal."
The waiter was looking unimpressed but Burn was fighting a smile. Now really wasn't the time.
"I repeat, is this going to be a problem? We can move tables," Burn offered.
The waiter sighed. "No, it's fine. Last time he was in here he didn't do anything besides completely fail to remember me. But I swear, he does anything to me and I am suing."
"Don't talk about me like I'm not here!" Charlie said indignantly.
"Learn some goddamn object permanence!" the waiter snapped back.
Burn cleared his throat and place his drink order.
After the waiter left, Charlie asked, "What's object permanence?"
"It's when a baby is able to realize that an object continues to exist when they can no longer see it," Burn explained.
Charlie snorted. "That's not impressive. Everyone can do that."
"Very young babies cannot," Burn said. "It's an important developmental milestone. I think children usually reach it around…six months? But don't quote me on that."
"I don't get it? Why is he saying I need to learn that? I'm obviously not a baby and it's not like I forgot something existed or anything." Charlie blinked. "Oh. Is it because he thinks I keep forgetting him?"
"Probably," Burn agreed. "He says it's fine but I'm really not getting a very good feeling about this. I hope he doesn't continue to yell at us throughout the meal."
Charlie shrugged. "It's fine. You can just stiff him on the tip."
"As a British person, the very concept of tipping still fills me with a vague sort of outrage towards your nation's minimum wage laws and the restaurant industry's refusal to pay its workers a living wage," Burn said. "But a waiter could literally stab me and I still wouldn't tip below fifteen percent."
Charlie just shook his head at that.
"Do you know what you want to eat?" Burn asked.
"Uh…maybe," Charlie said. "I know what I usually get but I'm going to look at the menu again just in case."
Burn beamed at that. Charlie clearly had a decent idea of what the restaurant had to offer and could simply ask him or the waiter about the menu but instead he was going to try his hand at reading it. He loved when Charlie did that.
Charlie grinned back and opened the menu.
Burn looked at the menu himself because it would be nice to remind himself what his options were. Well, that and the only other options were to look at his phone which was rude or stare at the man across the table from him which was creepy. He and a friend made sure to see a movie nearly every week together at one of those dine-in theaters and they both knew the menu by heart but did that stop them from carefully examining it every single time? Of course not. Just because they thought they knew what there was didn't mean he had fully absorbed it until he looked it over.
"Oh, oh, oh!" Charlie exclaimed excitedly, poking a spot on his menu rapidly.
"What?" Burn asked, smiling at his enthusiasm.
Before Charlie could answer, the waiter returned with their drinks. "Are you ready to order? I'm your waiter, by the way, in case you've forgotten in the five minutes I've been gone."
"Why would we have forgotten you?" Charlie asked, puzzled.
The waiter held his fingers so close together they were almost touching. "This close. I am this close."
"Dude, no offence but you are being super weird right now," Charlie said.
The waiter made a sound of wordless frustration.
Really, Burn didn't know if Charlie's friends had been that bad or if this man was just that unstable.
"I believe we are ready to order," Burn said. "Charlie?"
Charlie nodded. He smiled proudly. "Yeah. I'll have the ten-cheese penne pasta."
"I'll, uh, have the salmon," Burn said, handing his menu to the waiter.
"Sorry, did you say ten cheese?" Burn asked once the waiter had left.
"I know, right? Ten cheese. I usually get the fish when I come here, right? Not always like the same fish but usually fish. Dennis likes ordering for everyone and Frank always knows what's good here so he does, too. All this time and I never knew they had ten cheese pasta. That's like the most cheeses I've ever seen all together! Oh man, this is going to be amazing!"
"I must admit I'm quite curious," Burn said. "I've heard of five-cheese but that's the most, I think."
Charlie glanced at him, suddenly shy. "You can have a bite of mine, if you want. You're the reason I even knew about it. And I just bet if I'd asked you'd have read the whole damn menu to me."
"I…well, yes, of course," Burn said. "It wouldn't be fair to deprive you of the opportunity to select the dish you preferred. As for the other thing…thank you. I think I would quite like to try that."
Charlie looked pleased at that. "You know, I'm really glad we did this."
"Me too," Burn said. "And not just because I owe you money."
Charlie laughed. "Dude, come on, you don't owe me money. You didn't say 'hey, I left my wallet at home can you cover this.' I ninjad my way into paying for something because I chose too and you were kind of sulking about it."
"I was not sulking!" Burn insisted, flustered.
Charlie laughed. "Maybe you were a little. But that's okay. It was kind of cute."
Burn cleared his throat. "Was it?"
"Oh, yeah." He paused, clearly thinking something over. "You know, we never actually came out and said it but I don't want this to be one of those awkward times where it's like a sneak date and the other person has no idea until it's over. I've learned the hard way that those do not go over well."
Burn vaguely wondered how someone had a sneak date (one person thought it was and the other did not? Sneak sounded rather more active than a miscommunication) but he was far more preoccupied by the rest of what Charlie had said.
"Date?" He hadn't known his voice could sound that high-pitched.
Charlie looked upset. "Oh, yeah, man did you not know? I mean, can you date someone without them agreeing to it? You did agree to come. Actually, I agreed to come because you suggested it. And it was totally a date to me the whole time! But while I guess you could technically force someone to go on a date with you – not that I'm saying you should! – I just sort of feel both people should really know about it at least? I'm sorry, Doc, this is just-"
"Charlie," Burn interrupted.
Charlie stilled. "Yeah?"
"The night is young but this is turning out to be quite a lovely date so far," Burn said, his voice steadier than he'd expected it to be.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Charlie smiled wider than Burn had ever seen him smile before and it occurred to him that he was quite possibly in trouble.
It occurred to him that he might like it.
