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Scott waited outside for whoever was supposed to be his date. He, perhaps heavily influenced by his own boredom, had set himself up an online dating profile. Cliche, sure, he knew, but it was really more a last resort than anything. What was worse, or arguably better depending on one’s standpoint, was he got a message almost immediately; or, more so, a reply to his own message.
He looked interesting enough, nice profile photo (depending on one’s preferences, anyway.) He seemed confident to show off a wide grin that could perhaps be described as smug, or even far enough as what’s known as nothing less than “shit eating.” And to match his smile, he wore his hair long, most likely not often brushed. Dyed an unnatural color, but Scott couldn’t tell which due to the photo’s lighting. Blue, maybe? Purple? It was odd, sure, but it suited him well.
And so he sent the other a message. A short, plain “hello.” And he went all out. The guy, whose name was Clyde, replied with a heavily pronounced flirtatious nature. Something along the lines of “Hey babe~” Simple enough, he supposed, maybe a bit overbearing. It was, though, a dating site after all. What was he to expect? He continued to reply, getting to know the guy. He was nice enough. Definitely not shy, but that may not necessarily be a good thing. The line between confidence and being conceited was a bit too fine on this one, so Scott was cautious. He decided he wouldn’t be too quick to label him “fuckboy” and ignore him entirely. He hoped that wasn’t a mistake.
Clyde eventually invited him to meet up, a simple date. He suggested dinner, somewhere casual like a pizza joint, or perhaps even as low as a McDonald’s lobby. Not the most formal of dates he’d been on, but the charm was endearing. He agreed; he decided this would be something new, and change is good. Right? He hoped desperately so. They agreed to meet at the little city based pizzeria on the corner, better known as “The place adults go while their kids run screaming at the Freddy Fazbear’s across the street.” Freddy’s. It left a familiar taste in his mouth. His brother loved the place, he’d just recently applied for a job there. Funnily enough, when he suggested this to Clyde, he reacted as if it was humorous. “Eheh, that place is an absolute hellhole.” It wasn’t that hard to believe, kids could be a pain, but it was almost.. suspicious? No, no, he quickly shrugged that thought off. Clyde has probably previously worked the job, perhaps works it currently, and doesn’t like it. Understandable.
The conversation ended when Clyde decided he wanted to start readying himself for the date, maybe fix his hair or something of the like. Scott smiled to himself as he shut down his computer, coming to the decision that he would do the same. Upon pondering what to wear, he stopped himself mid thought. It’s a pizza joint, he told himself, just wear what you are now. A faded grey tee shirt and jeans. Casual, plain, boring. He threw on a flannel jacket, somewhat for the purpose to add variety to the outfit, mostly with in mind that it was cold out. And, just for the purpose of being hypocritical of himself, he stepped into flip-flop style sandals that weren't weather appropriate in the slightest. And with that, cell phone in his pocket, he was out the door.
Which brings it back to now, him leaning on the wall waiting on Clyde’s arrival. How long had passed while he was reviewing the events leading up to this? Five minutes? Ten? More? He’d hoped not, he was actually a bit excited to see what this Clyde was like. He certainly seemed half decent online. But, in all honesty, he wouldn’t be surprised if the date disappointed him.
The air smelled of the expected pizzeria scents: bread and cheese and poorly prepared meals. There were a few outside scents as well, he noticed. Like wet grass after it rains. Mixed with- oh what was that? Cigarette smoke, perhaps? Oh no, he thought darkly, who the hell has the nerve to smoke just out here? He pulled the collar of his shirt up over the lower portion of his face, peering about in hopes to see just who’d lit the cigarette. He caught sight of someone, just getting out of their car, clouded puffs rising from their lips and- oh, would you look at that. Big purple hair. Way to make a first impression.
“Oh, hey! Scott, right?” the larger haired man said, as if nothing was wrong. “Hey, hey. Yeah, that’s me- Would you mind, uh, putting that out? I have asthma, I can’t handle cigarettes.”
Clyde’s expression immediately dropped, becoming more serious, with a hint of nervousness. “Oh! Right, of course. Sorry babe.” He then proceeded to drop the cigarette, stomping it into the pavement. “Got it, no smoking with you. Funny story, how I started, but let’s save that for around the table, shall we?”
Scott simply nodded softly in agreement. Okay, maybe he wasn’t so bad. Considerate enough, actually seemed a bit sweet. He began to feel a bit more comfortable with the whole situation, but feared in the back of his mind that he was allowing himself a false sense of security. Nothing significant, though. He felt this way about nearly everything. Damn anxiety. “Yeah, right. Care to go ahead inside?” he asked, offering his date a small but sweet smile. Clyde grinned back in reply. “I’d like nothing better~”
The two slipped themselves inside, Clyde taking Scott’s hand in his. A blush rose to dust Scott’s cheeks as he looked at the floor. Damn it, why was he getting excited over this? His internet date just took his hand, chill. He settled himself into a booth, skimming down the menu. Pizza, breadsticks- Oh? He jumped, slightly startled when Clyde took a seat next to him rather than opposite him. His date snaked an arm around him, leaving him almost surprised the other hadn’t used the old cheesy yawn trick. “So, babe, what about my online profile caught your eye? I’m not exactly the most romantic of people, didn’t think I looked all that appealing.”
“Eh,” Scott began, “Liked your hair, liked your smile. I’m always a sucker for brightly colored hair, what can I say.” Clyde took a lock of his hair between his fingers, twisting it. “I’ve got some weird stories about my hair. Weird stories about everything else, too. A hectic childhood leaves a guy with a lot to talk about.” He reaches back, digs through his hair a bit, and catches his finger on a knot. “Shit, one sec.” He yanks it out, making Scott cringe at how painful he imagined that was. Clyde then grabbed a few clumped together strands from behind the rest of his hair and pulled them to the front. They were a brighter shade of purple than the rest of it. “Now. My hair story.”
“So when I was a kid, I really wanted to dye my hair purple, right? Brown is boring as shit, and I wanted to be unique from all the other dicks with brown hair. When I proposed this idea to my dad, he told me the obvious: ‘Hell no.’ So, usually, I’d do it behind his back anyway, power through whatever consequence he decided on. But I couldn’t get my hands on any hair dye in the color I wanted. What I could get, though, was a big ol’ bucket of paint, made for like walls and stuff. And you know what I did?”
Scott looked at him as if he had just told him he ate paper; as if he were weird, but he’d heard worse. “What did you do?” he said, uninterested. “No, no, c’mon Scotty, guess what I did!”
“..You poured it on your head?”
“I poured that shit on my head. And yeah- here’s the stuff that could not come out for anything.” He cracked a small smirk, a downplayed version of the grin he’d been wearing all night. “So, uh” Scott cut in, “Were we actually going to eat here? Or was this just a meeting place for us to talk? Because I took a look at the menu, and the pizza here looks amazing. Cheap too- shit, did I even bring any money?” Scott began digging through his pockets, presumably looking for his wallet.
“I mean, we can if you want. I don’t eat much. But y’know, since you do” he poked playfully at Scott’s tummy, earning an angry glare. “Anything for you, babe~” Scott huffed, slumping in his seat and resting his face in his hands with his elbows propped up on the table. “Let’s go ahead and eat. I’m liking the look of this menu, how about.. something plain we can agree on. Cheese pizza?” Clyde was picking at the painted strands in his hair. “Sounds great, love.”
As if on queue, a kind looking waitress approached their table. “You two know what you’re wanting to order?” she asked with positivity in her tone. “Yes, a large cheese pizza, the breadsticks, and a Pepsi and- Clyde, what do you want to drink?” Clyde hummed, as to show acknowledgement to his question. “Ehh.. I’m almost tempted to ask if you guys serve alcohol, but nah. I’ll take what he’s having. Pepsi, right?” The waitress nodded, jotting down their order and then strolling off.
“So, we what were we on.. Oh! Care if I go ahead and tell the one I mentioned earlier? ‘Bout how I started smoking?” Clyde shifted in his seat, comforting himself as if in preparation for a rather long story. Scott, knowing to take the hint, braced himself as well. “Sure, go right ahead.”
“Well see, when I was hmm.. I’m gonna say maybe fourteen, I was kinda curious what the whole smoking thing was all about. ‘Cause, like, there was all this buzz about ‘holy shit you guys smoking is dangerous,’ and stupid teenage me went and thought ‘well if it’s so bad why are people still doing it?’ So I decided to find out for myself, snagged a pack from a little convenience store down the road from where I lived. See, I grew up in a shit little town, you could get away with taking just about anything there. But yeah, took the cigs, went home, and went right ahead and lit one up without a second thought.”
He paused, leading Scott to believe he was done. “Stupid kid indeed. That’s a hard habit to carry, especially at such a young age-” “Hold on just a minute, love, story’s not over yet.”
“So, I get home, I smoke, and then guess who catches me?”
Scott sighed deeply. “Who?”
“My dad. And oh, oh ho was he pissed. See, he’s got this real funny method of punishment, right? He makes you do the thing again, but like. Way worse. So what he does is he sits me down, takes a seat next to me, and tells me to smoke the whole damn pack in one sitting.”
“That’s awful. Did you do it?”
“Hell yeah, I did it. Smoked the whole pack in about an hour or so. Threw up afterwards, but it was almost kind of fun in its own fucked over kind of way.” Scott grimaced. Poor guy, wasn’t entirely his fault he got forced into a bad habit. He was always one to be careful when offering sympathy, but the pity was definitely present. His train of thought was derailed just as it began to form a new word when his date spoke out “Hey, Scotty babe, food’s here.”
A different waitress- this one pale as snow and yet having the nerve to wear her dirty blonde hair in a matted array of what she would have called dreadlocks if asked- haphazardly laid their meal out on the table. “Your food.” she said, dully. Clyde raised a brow at her. “Thanks.” he said lowly, then turned his attention away from her with intent to bring his mood back up.
He looked at Scott, who had already began with the pizza. “You seem to be enjoying yourself,” Clyde chimed. Scott simply nodded. “So, uh.. what do you think about maybe going back to my place after we eat? Well, you eat. I’m really not hungry.” Scott, having already finished a slice and then some of a second, put the unfinished one down and cleared his throat. “I don’t think so, from what I know of you as of now, I know it’s not much. And because of which there’s no way you’ll be taking me home tonight.”
Clyde looked at him with fake and dramatic surprise. “Are you suggesting you think I’m going to be trying to get in your pants? On the first date? Why, I would-” he dropped the artificial offense. “Yeah, actually, I would. It’s fine if you’re not wanting to go there tonight, I won’t try to change your mind or anything like that.”
Scott gave him a small, barely there crack of a smile. “Thank you, I appreciate the honesty. In fact, you know what, I actually think I will come home with you. Just don’t be too expectant of anything out of that, alright?”
“You have my word, Scotty. Now, let’s take the rest of the pizza to go and get the hell out of here. That waitress is pissing me off.”
Scott nodded in agreement, now noticing that the last waitress had already left them with a bill that he previously neglected. Before he could reach for his wallet, Clyde softly nudged his arm. “Hey, you sure you don’t want me to get it?”
“I got it. Kind offer, though.” He set his wallet on the table, pulled out a somewhat crumpled twenty, and lied that down next to the bill. “Here, you seem eager to help me, could you please get some takeout boxes for the pizza?” Clyde nodded, trailing off to find an employee to offer him a few boxes, or direct him to where he could get some. Scott, meanwhile, was counting out change for a tip. Though he wasn’t all too fond of the waitress, it was only polite, and he did have some change to spare.
Clyde came back with the boxes, loading the pizza into them. “So, what exactly do you wanna do when we get home? We could maybe watch a movie, or just talk.” Scott shrugged, pocketing his wallet. “One of the two, either sounds just fine. Just talking could be interesting. You seem to have a lot of- er.. fun stories. Plus, I didn’t get much chance to talk about myself. Not that I have anything of interest to say, I’m pretty basic.”
“That sounds to me like a white person problem.” Clyde said, chuckling under his breath. Scott gave a soft laugh in return. “Yeah, I guess so. I think we’re ready to go though. You?”
“Yeah, I’d say so. Let’s grab our stuff and get out of here, shall we?”
Scott nodded in agreement, then took one final glance across the table to ensure that he wasn’t forgetting anything. Once he came to the conclusion that he wasn’t, he set off for the door out. Clyde followed after him, carelessly tossing the pizza boxes back and forth from one hand to the other. “You better not drop those,” Scott said dully after a quick glance over his shoulder. “I won’t, babe, chill.”
They exited the restaurant, Clyde finally choosing one hand to rest the boxes in as he approached his car and reached into his pocket for the keys. He jammed them into the door, swung it open and settled himself into the driver's’ seat. Scott shortly followed after him, taking the passenger’s side for himself. “You riding with me? What about your car?”
“What about it? I walked here. I don’t live far, just a few blocks down.”
“Alright, cool then. One less thing for me to worry about.” Clyde said, shrugging and preparing to pull out of the parking space. He backed up, then turned himself out onto the road. "So, we're all agreeing on doing a movie tonight, yeah? You got one in mind?"
Scott took a minute to consider his options. Movies.. "Eh, I'm not sure you want me picking, my taste in movies is pretty childish. I like the Disneys and such." Clyde chuckled, nodding reassuringly. "May not be entirely aimed at your age group, but Disney's got good money, and for a damn good reason. Just because they're kid friendly doesn't mean they're poorly written. I personally like horror movies packed up with ridiculous amounts of gore, but I can appreciate the cutesy animated films on occasion. So you know what, take your pick. Any Disney, except Frozen because fuck that."
"Perfect, I'm fed up with Frozen. Here, how about we just pick one at random off Netflix or whatever movies you have at home"
"Are you proposing that we 'Netflix and chill'"?
"Sure, I don't see why not."
"You know, babe, they say that always leads to sex."
"We've already established that we're not having sex tonight, now quit it." He huffed, rolling his eyes. In all honesty, by this point he wasn't entirely opposed to sex, but he was by no means allowing Clyde to get his hopes up.
It wasn’t long before they pulled up into the driveway, Clyde getting out and slamming the door. Scott wasn’t too far behind him, carrying the pizza boxes in and having to maneuver a bit oddly to open the door with his hands full. He got out and shut the door, leaning on it until it closed.
“Oh, by the way,” Clyde began, “When you get in, watch where you step. I have a cat, and she’s- uh.. not entirely litter trained.”
“I’m well since used to that, I have a pretty big dog at home. And she makes.. pretty big messes.” He chuckled softly to himself, running a bit ahead of the other to open the door, holding it open for him before he went inside himself. “Wait, why the hell is your door unlocked?”
“I’m a forgetful fucker, not much else to say.” Clyde slipped inside, kicking off his shoes and heading off to the kitchen to put the pizzas away. Scott came in not far behind him, taking a seat on the couch and leaning his head back into the cushions. Clyde fit himself in next to him, wrapping one arm around him in a position not unlike the one they sat in at their previous location. “Anyway, before we do start up our Netflix and chill or whatever other excuse for sex you’re intent on using, I think I’d like to maybe skim through what’s already on TV to see if I can wiggle my way around starting up my computer or whatever other device I might have Netflix available on”
Scott, who was angrily stammering something along the lines of how many times must I tell you we’re not fucking tonight, slumped himself over and clenched his teeth whilst his volume trailed lower until it rippled into nothing. Clyde snatched the TV remote off the coffee table conveniently placed right in front of the couch, then stretched himself to kick his feet to rest upon that very same table as he flicked his thumb across the remote’s buttons and applied an ever so slight pressure to ‘power’.
The TV flashed on, revealing the last channel having been watched to be the monotonously droning news channel. Clyde shrugged in a kind of don’t ask way when Scott gave him a why was the news on look. It was kind of odd how the two could communicate in a way in which the message they were trying to get across was eerily precise, and they did it using only body language.
He who held the remote- who was Clyde, in the case that you, reader, have a painfully short term memory- flicked through channels in search of something interesting enough to be considered date material. He wasn’t planning to go as far as to search for romantic material, for he knew from previous experience that that would prove far too difficult. So he settled for channel 50, which was, as usual, running a Harry Potter marathon. He himself wasn’t too into the fantasy genre, but he felt that Scott looked the type to be, and hoped he was.
Having turned it on mid-movie it took Scott a moment or two to process the characters’ current events and at which point in the timeline this took place. Clyde, meanwhile, who was not at all familiar with the tale of Harry Potter nor that of any of it’s lore, was in a state of a strangely odd confusion for good first hour or so. Transfixed, if you will. He glanced down at his wrist for the time only to find that he wasn’t wearing a watch, and came to the point of pondering whether it was to early into the night for him to fall asleep, or if Scott would be offended if he did. Keeping his thought centered upon this question only added increasingly more factors to his borderline exhaustion. So he concluded to mentally dropping the subject entirely and simply trying to avert his attention to the movie.
Not long had passed before it dawned on him that Scott too was facing the issue of being more than a little sleepy. The aforementioned was dozing off with his head leaning onto Clyde’s shoulder. Cute.
He then decided, fuck it, and allowed himself to rest his own head atop Scott’s.
And the two slept.