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[soloh]

The company I work for has a fricking Christmas snapchat filter, I can't escape.

[oryu404]

Hopeless Valentine

[Link to AO3] Rogue swore on the name of every God he could think of that this was going to be the last time he’d ever take Yukino’s advice. She meant well, he’d never doubted that, but there were some things he was sure to be better off if he’d figure them out on his own. His love life was at the top of that list.

He supposed he should’ve seen it coming. All of their friends were either married, engaged, or expecting a baby. In short, they were all in serious relationships even though none of them had reached their thirties yet. He and Yukino had been the only ones left and they were fine with that. They even spent most Valentine's days together watching those sappy romance movies, armed with alcohol and snacks, laughing when the plot Rogue had predicted 5 minutes into the movie came true.

Silly, cliché, and totally unrealistic. Romance in real life was nothing like that.

He knew it was all going to change when he hung out with her one day. He could read it off her expression even before she had spoken the words. She had met someone. A young woman, tall, dark and gorgeous, who could perform magic in the kitchen, among other places. It was serious, and he’d been more than happy for her, of course he had, but now he had become that one friend.

The one with the dating history more tragic than the sinking of the Titanic. The only one who always showed up without a plus one, forever alone Rogue, and as he’d already feared his best friend was having none of it.

He tried to assure her that it was fine, joking that he’d just become the male equivalent of the crazy cat lady, but she shushed him and started a speech about how everyone deserved to find true love and that his was out there somewhere. He’d just have to find him, and the look on her face told him she’d made it her mission to make sure that he did.

He had reluctantly taken every single piece of advice from her so far, from letting her give him a makeover, to accompanying her and Minerva to the local gay bar and even getting a tinder profile. And every outcome had been a failure that exceeded the previous one.

After hours of shopping and trying out clothes that he didn’t feel comfortable in, he was finally able to convince her that his so-called “true love” would also accept him in a pair of nerdy glasses and a Star Wars hoodie. The obnoxious, loud pop music, the mixed scents of sweat, alcohol, and an overkill of body spray, and the lack of movement space caused by complete strangers brushing and grinding up against him were an instant reminder why he’d never been a fan of clubbing. And even Yukino had to admit that Tinder was a bad idea when he showed her the messages -and not to mention the pictures- he had received unsolicited.

Still, she had been able to talk him into what she’d sworn would be fun, and if it wasn’t there’d be no strings attached. The only reason he’d agreed on going speed-dating on Valentine’s Day was because she’d promised to get off his case after this. Besides, it wasn’t like he had something better to do anyway. He’d only have to spend about 10 minutes with each candidate, and he could just voice his opinion about them on the scorecard he was given. How bad could it be?

Bad was an understatement.

Out of all the guys that had taken place in the seat across him there hadn’t been a single one that made him lament the moment when the bell rang, signaling the encounter had ended. There’d been a man who must have been more than twice his age, one who was only interested in his cell phone, one who was so full of himself it surprised Rogue he still had room for the breadsticks, one who was actually in a relationship, just looking for “a playmate to spice things up a little,” and one who spent the full ten minutes undressing him with his eyes and wasn’t too subtle about his intentions during their conversation either.

Rogue was more than relieved when he was saved by the bell from that last one. He put on a forced and obviously faked smile when the guy got up and slipped him a piece of paper, winking as he mouthed the words “call me,” and moved on to the next table.

‘Don’t hold your breath.’

With a frown, Rogue turned to his scorecard, reviewing all the ranks he had assigned to his dates until now.

How interested would you be in a second date?

1: I can’t wait!

2: Willing to give it a chance

3: Maybe

4: Not my type

He added a fifth 4 to his list, scratching it into the paper as big and bold as he could without puncturing through it. He wanted to make sure there was no mistaking what his answer to this one was.

It dawned on him that there was only one more possible match left, and that made him both relieved and disappointed. Not that he’d had high expectations for tonight, he just thought it would be nice to have a click with someone again. His last relationship had ended years ago, and although he’d tried it a few times in college, one night stands weren’t really his cup of tea. Was he really that picky? Unlucky, perhaps? Or maybe this whole dating and romance thing just wasn’t meant for him?

“Hey, good evening!”

Rogue snapped out of his thoughts when his last date sat down, the number 8 was written on his tag. He looked…promising? At least he seemed to be well within an age range Rogue would say was acceptable. At first glance, he came off as friendly, and he wasn’t that hard on the eyes either. So far, so good.

“Hey, uhm…nice to meet you, I guess?”

I guess? Very smooth.

“Same! I gotta tell you, I’m not that good at small talk, but-“ the guy held up his finger to excuse himself and sneezed into a napkin, “sorry…”

“Bless you. And no problem.”

“So I’m not that good at small talk and I’m just going to be very unoriginal and ask you how you’d describe the perfect date?”

Very unoriginal indeed, Rogue had to agree, but it lent itself for a much more comfortable conversation than the ones he’d had prior to this. This was already going better than he had dared to hope for at this point.

“You’re going to get an unoriginal answer as well,” he admitted sheepishly, “I don’t really mind where I am or what I’m doing as long as I’m with someone I enjoy spending time with, but if I had to pick something I’d say dinner and a movie. Very basic, I know.”

“That’s fine, basic doesn’t automatically have to mean boring, right?” Mr. 8 waved to one of the waiters who was nearby, asking for two more glasses of wine after he’d noticed Rogue’s empty glass. He sneezed again.

“Right. Well since we’re already on a streak of being unoriginal, What do you like to do in your free time? ”

“Nothing special, just hanging out with friends, watch some movies, play some games. It looks like we’re both really good at being unoriginal,” he laughed, followed by yet another sneeze. He blinked a couple of times and then started rubbing at his eyes.

“Okay, so weird question, but do you happen to have a cat?”

“Yeah, I do,” Rogue nodded. “Would that be a problem?”

“Unfortunately, I’m afraid so. I’m extremely allergic to anything that has fur,” Mr. 8 got up, sneezing once more as he searched through his pockets. “I think I’d better take my allergy pills, be right back!”

He left for the men’s room, leaving Rogue to sigh deeply as he watched his departure.

“Sure,” he mumbled, filling in the final 4 on his scorecard right before the bell rang for the final time.

So that was it. He’d wasted a large part of his Saturday afternoon in a restaurant he’d normally never set foot in. At least the wine was good and drinks had already been included in the signup costs. And since he was now presented with two glasses of it, and doubted that Mr. 8 would be returning he’d resigned himself that he’d be wasting even more of his time here. He had gotten all dressed up anyway.

“Hi, mind if I joined you?”

Rogue was surprised, and more than confused when the seat at the other side of his table was suddenly taken. A spotless white button-up and a badge that had the restaurant’s logo and the name Sting on it told him it was one of the waiters who had been serving them. Dumbstruck, Rogue scanned his scorecard, hoping that it would give him any hint to what was going on, but all the blank spaces had been filled in by him already.

“…Now?” he questioned. He left the card for what it was and focused his attention back to his newly acquired company. “But…isn’t the event over already? And aren’t you supposed to be working?”

“The event is over and so is my shift, but there’s still half a Valentine’s Day left so I thought, since all of your dates have been kind of disastrous, I should make up for it. Something along the lines of…dinner and a movie?”

Rogue was speechless. “ Make up for it,” for him to state that with such conviction, as if he was going to be the redeeming factor of the train wreck that had been Rogue’s first- and decisively last- attempt at speed dating slash Valentine’s Day. Not that he’d even have to bring much to the table to improve the whole situation, as his -for lack of a better term- competition had set the bar pretty damn low, but the out-of-the-blue proposal was more than intriguing. There was a strangely irresistible charm to his cockiness, and good looks weren’t Rogue’s top requirement or anything, but fuck he was seriously cute.

“So… what do you say?”

Oh, right. He might want to answer.

“Uhm… sure?”

“Cool!” Sting chugged the whole glass of wine in front of him in one go, then started to untie the apron around his waist as he got up. “But not here though, my coworkers can be such a pain in the ass. Give me like five minutes to change and get my stuff, I’ll be right back!” he beamed, and just like that he was gone again.

Rogue stared off into space for what must have been a full minute, trying to process what had just happened. He pinched himself, and yes, he definitely felt that, so he hadn’t just made that all up and he was about to go on a real date for the first time in God knows how long. On Valentine’s Day. With someone he had just met minutes ago, without even a proper introduction.

On the one hand, he didn’t have much to lose, and it couldn’t get much worse from here. On the other, he found himself hoping he wouldn’t fuck this up, with no reason to explain this feeling that made any sense.

His wine met the same fate as Sting’s had, tossed back like a tequila shot at a frat party.

As he turned in his number tag and scorecard to the speed-dating event runners, panic and excitement were playing a game of tug-o-war with him, with no clear winner emerging from the battle until Sting came running through the staff door, dressed in plain dark jeans and a Star Wars hoodie.

“I hope you don’t mind that I’m horribly underdressed compared to you? If I’d known I would be going on a date after work I would’ve made a bigger effort.”

Rogue didn’t mind at all. He was thrilled to learn they seemed to have at least one common interest, and with a bright smile he replied what was supposed to be “You look fine, I wish I wasn’t wearing these clothes,” but because of his sudden excitement he tripped over the words and it came out as “It’s fine if you’re not wearing clothes.”

He felt his face heat up like a frying pan. How he’d managed a fuckup of this magnitude after just five fucking minutes was beyond him, but this would go down as one of those moments he’d still feel embarrassed about when it replayed in his head and kept him up at night.

It would be great if the earth could just open up and swallow him whole.

“Wait- NO, I didn’t mean-”

He tried to do some damage control but gave up when Sting burst into laughter, and against all Rogue’s expectations, he wasn’t the least bit deterred.

“Come on, let’s get out of here before the only place we can still get a table will be McDonald’s,” he grinned, linking their arms so he could lead a still rebounding Rogue towards the exit.

As he followed Sting out of the restaurant Rogue couldn’t help but be enthralled by this unforeseen development, and he wondered how Yukino was going to react to it.

Actually, no, that was a lie. He knew exactly how she was going to react to it. She was going to grill him, tease him, and pry as many details out of him as she could, and he had no idea if it was intuition or just wishful thinking, but he hoped he’d have a lot to tell her once he had fumbled himself through tonight.