erwin x f!reader. cw: alcohol. modern au - reader is late 20s/early 30s and he’s late 30s/early 40s. he is a history professor.
“I didn’t expect you to be…”
The way Erwin, the man you were set up on a blind date with, trails off should make you feel self conscious but with everything you have learned about him over the past hour, you simply smile and raise a brow in his direction, sipping from your old fashioned to hide your grin. He watches every move you make, eyes as blue and deep as the ocean sparkling with curiosity, and he finds himself engrossed in everything from the subtle smack of your lips to the elegant way you hold your glass.
“What? So charming? Beautiful? Intelligent?”
One hour in and Professor Erwin Smith smitten by you, something he’d be apprehensive to admit if asked, yet it’s evident on his face and the way he chuckles at your easy jokes.
“I was struggling to pick just one.”
Another grin the lip of your glass can’t hide blooms on your face and you shrug nonchalantly.
“Then why not all of them?”
You are magnetic and he’d be a fool to keep you from feeding him lines and sly smiles from behind the safe barrier of your whiskey and ice filled glass, liquid courage clearly encouraging whatever is happening currently, but frankly - he doesn’t mind. It has been too long since his last date and he needs to send his fellow history department employee Annie a note in thanks for her suggestion of meeting up with you.
It has been more than he anticipated but he isn’t mad about it, watching you finally place your glass on the table in front of you rather than hiding behind it. He’s certain what he’s getting now is you but he’s eager to see more now that you seem more accessible, shifting in his seat slightly.
The older man feels so at ease with you he almost forgets this isn’t a regular occurrence, this is a first date and he must impress even if it means taking the focus from you. He’s almost resistant to the idea of you as anything but the star of this simple dinner shared by two strangers hoping to be more but he clears his throat and smiles, lower lip a little wobbly which belies the touch of anxiety he’s currently feeling.
“Annie told me that you love to read.”
Smiling at the mention of your friend, you shrug humbly and he can’t help but laugh that this is the moment you’ve picked to be coy. Perhaps he’s truly digging beneath the surface, pulling you apart from petal to root, and he leans back in his chair and sips from his own whiskey neat watching you formulate an answer.
Erwin Smith, above all, is a charmer and you’re witnessing it first hand. It’s humbling as the charmer to be the one swept off your feet but he’s handsome enough you let it slide, delicately tracing circles with your index finger around the rim of your glass while contemplating just how much of yourself to give away.
What could it hurt to give at least a little? You don’t sip from your glass this time, peering up through your lashes to be met with the heavily lidded gaze of the man across from you.
Gosh, it’s hard to tell who is charming who anymore.
“I can show you my collection better than I can explain it.”
Erwin chuckles and your face warms. Is it alcohol or pure lust causing all the blood in your body to rush to your face?
“That’s the most creative way I’ve ever been asked to go home with someone, I’ll give you that.”
You gasp, feigning shock and his face falls until you laugh, raising your brow with a half smile.
“I’m only inviting you for a private reading, Professor Smith. Don’t take it too seriously.”
The use of his formal title from your pretty lips is heady and he hums, the sound low in his throat and making your head spin. It’s hard to tell exactly what he makes of you but you believe he likes what he’s figured out so far if how quickly he searches around the room for your waiter is any indication.
Your brow still raised when his eyes fall upon you and he chuckles, reaching across the table and capturing it in his own. He rubs his thumb over your knuckles and lifts it toward his face, kissing the back of your hand as if he has done it a thousand times. You’ve been rendered speechless and your mouth moves dumbly, searching for words to secure your victory but they simply do not come.
“What kind of man says no to a beautiful woman?”
Your face blazes and your eyes dart from his. It’s safe to say you won’t be winning this round but you hardly mind when you feel his gaze on you, skin prickling with awareness. It isn’t often that you let someone else get the last word but you’ve been given no choice, his thumb still pressed against your palm while gently setting your arm back down on the table in front of you.
“I’m hardly the type to kiss on the first date but I couldn’t help myself.”
Again, you find yourself searching for words and coming up short, grinning and tilting your head. He watches you reach for your glass again. Throat bobbing as you sip, the delicate column contracting, he wonders how his lips would feel against it but is drawn out of the lewd line of thought by your voice, blonde brow raised and mirroring the angle of your own.
“I suppose you’ll just have to find out if I’m the opposite type or not.”
His cheeks turn pink at their high points and you take a satisfied sip from your drink, leaps and bounds ahead of him without trying very hard once again. Despite the current standing, though, you find yourself deeply concerned that he’s matching you quip for quip and you almost veer down the oh so dangerous path of wondering where this man has been your entire life.
You know once you ask that there’s no going back so you simply sit smugly knowing one fact he isn’t privy to quite yet - he may not kiss on the first date but you definitely do and the night is still oh so young.
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