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He was sitting in his car, parked outside Edward’s apartment building. Every so often a flash of movement would catch his eye and his gaze would snap to check if it was Edward. But it was always just someone else coming out of the building. Jonathan gripped the steering wheel like his life depended on it, knuckles white from the tension. What was taking so long?

Jonathan wasn’t sure how much time passed before Edward finally appeared at his passenger side door. It felt like centuries, though in reality it had probably only been a few minutes. Edward got into the car, filling the small space with the scent of something warm and woody. It was nice. Certainly nicer than the smell of stale cigarettes that usually perfumed the inside of the vehicle.

It was a short drive, which they spent in relative silence. Jonathan was a little surprised that Edward wasn’t already talking his ear off, but he was perfectly content to focus on the road. He realized he should probably say something eventually, that Edward was likely waiting for his cue, but anything he could think to say just sounded so horribly unnatural that he felt like it was better to keep his mouth shut until they arrived at their destination.

Edward had picked the restaurant, much to Jonathan’s relief. He didn’t know anything about food or the places where people got it from. Whatever he could’ve come up with would surely have been a disappointment. It was better to let Edward choose. Thankfully, it wasn’t somewhere too fancy. Jonathan never felt comfortable in places like that. Not that he felt especially comfortable now, but it was better than being in some high end nightmare where an entree that amounted to three bites of food cost you a hundred and fifty dollars. At least here he could recognize most of the ingredients on the menu.

Jonathan really had no idea what to expect from the night. Of course he had imagined things, but it was hard to tell what was actually probable and what was complete fantasy on his part. He had no context for what Edward would be like on a date, or how he acted around the people he was interested in. He was clearly a flirtatious type, but that seemed to be standard practice for him socially. It was more of an attention seeking behavior than a representation of genuine attraction. Edward had flirted with Jonathan before, so often that he quickly became desensitized to it, but he wasn’t doing that now. He was just… being normal. It was odd.

“So, are we both going to sit here silently the whole time?” Edward asked after a while, scanning the menu. “Because I’m willing to do that if you want, but it’s not what I’d prefer.”

Jonathan cleared his throat, staring intently down at the page in front of him. “Guess I’m just used to listening to you. Not sure what I’m supposed to say now that it’s my turn.”

“You can say whatever you’d like.”

That wasn’t helpful in the slightest. He opened his mouth, only to close it again when nothing came to mind. He felt his face growing hot. What the hell did people say to each other on dates? What did he think Edward would want to hear? “I, um… You… You look… nice.” God, it couldn’t have come out more awkward if he tried. He glanced up at Edward in an attempt to use his expression to gauge how badly he was fucking up.

Edward’s eyes were still on his menu, as if he hadn’t certainly read through every item five times by now. Jonathan could see his cheeks were flushed. “So do you,” he said softly.

Under any other circumstances Jonathan would have argued, but it felt rude given the situation. “Thanks,” he mumbled halfheartedly. “I tried.”

“I can tell.” It wasn’t really clear if that was meant to be a good thing or not. But before he could ask, Edward said, “Tell me about your day.”

He arched an eyebrow. “My day?”

Edward nodded. “What did you do today?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing,” he repeated. “Nothing at all?”

He thought about it. He hadn’t gotten any work done, and he didn’t have hobbies. Mostly he spent the day worrying about the night ahead of him and trying to anticipate the worst possible outcome. “I was… couldn’t really focus on anything,” he said distantly. “What about you?” he asked, deflecting. “I’m sure whatever you get up to is a lot more interesting.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s interesting.” He began to absently rearrange the cutlery on his side of the table. “Just a few errands and then some work and then… Well, I spent a good amount of time trying to mentally prepare for… this.” He looked a bit sheepish. “I haven’t been on a proper date in a while,” he admitted.

“Neither have I,” Jonathan said quietly. “This sort of thing isn’t really in my wheelhouse.”

“No?”

“Don’t act like that’s surprising.”

Edward shrugged. “I don’t know. You’ve got that Southern gentleman thing going for you. And you’re a doctor, people like that. I’m sure you could land a date if you wanted to.”

“I’m hardly a gentleman,” he muttered. “And my medical license was revoked years ago.”

“Still, you’re—“ Before he could finish, their waiter appeared to take their orders. Edward snapped his mouth shut, busying himself with his menu. Even once they were alone again, he wouldn’t look at Jonathan. He just kept his lips pressed together, going back to sorting the silverware.

Jonathan wanted to ask what he was going to say, but it seemed that the moment had passed. Instead, he said, “If anyone should be able to land a date it’s you. So what’s your excuse?”

Edward sighed. His hands stilled. “Dating pool gets a lot smaller once you become a costumed criminal.”

“I feel like you could make it work.”

“I guess we’ll find out if that’s the case.”

Jonathan drummed his fingers against his thigh. There were so many questions on the tip of his tongue, so many things he didn’t understand about Edward. But what ended up coming out was, “Why me?”

Edward looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” He gestured vaguely between them. “Since when is this a thing?”

He frowned. “I’ve always liked you,” he said. “You know that.”

The words rang in his ears. He felt his breath catch in his throat. “No, I didn’t know that.”

That made his eyebrows raise. “Jesus, really?” When met with Jonathan’s blank stare, he added, “I thought I was laying it on pretty thick.”

His heart was racing. He tried to think back to his interactions with Edward, all the banter, the flirting, the touching. It did seem sort of obvious in hindsight. “But you’re like that with everyone,” he said weakly. “I didn’t think it meant anything to you.”

Edward’s face fell. “Oh,” was all he said in response.

Instantly, Jonathan knew that had been the wrong thing to say. “I mean—I wouldn’t have expected—You’re just so—“ He was floundering, he could feel it. “This shit hardly ever happens to me,” he said finally. “And when it does, it’s not serious. So I just figured it made more sense that you were kidding than… the alternative.”

“Oh,” Edward said again. “I see.”

Christ, this was a disaster. The food hadn’t even come yet. “I’m sorry,” he blurted. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“I’m not offended.”

“But you’re unhappy.”

“I’m…” He exhaled softly. “I just don’t like that you think of me that way,” he murmured. “I’m not that kind of person. I wouldn’t string you along.”

Jonathan didn’t know if he really believed him. That seemed like exactly the sort of thing Edward would do. Get him all wound up just for fun, or because he liked the chase, or the attention. But at the same time, he seemed genuinely hurt that Jonathan would assume that was the case. “I guess I wasn’t sure what to think about you,” he said.

The meal was uncomfortable. Edward’s mood had clearly soured, which Jonathan responded to by retreating inward and cursing himself for ever opening his stupid mouth. Of course he had ruined everything. That was what he always did. It had been foolish of him to think he could handle going on a date. A date with Edward, no less. He pushed his food around the plate, having lost his appetite.

After a while, Edward spoke. “You know, a lot of people told me not to waste my time on you.”

That didn’t really surprise him. He wasn’t exactly known for being approachable or emotionally available or even remotely pleasant to be around. That being said, he didn’t know why Edward felt the need to bring it up. “Then why are you?” he asked flatly.

“I don’t like being told what to do.”

Jonathan huffed out a breath that was almost a laugh. “So you’re just being a contrarian.”

“No,” he said, visibly irritated. “But I’m not going to let other people’s opinions stop me from doing what I want. If I decide you’re worth my time, then you are.”

Jonathan couldn’t fathom being worth anything to anyone. It didn’t seem like he ever had been before, so why should he expect it now? But Edward was here, in front of him, taking the time to try and coax him out of his tightly sealed shell. He had even been willing to sit in total silence if that was all Jonathan had been able to manage. Jonathan couldn’t imagine that was the kind of thing he would do for just anyone.

“My point,” Edward continued, “is that I don’t see you the way everyone else does. I think there’s more to you than people give you credit for.”

His cheeks warmed. He wasn’t used to compliments, didn’t know how to respond to them. “Maybe you’re giving me too much credit,” he muttered.

Edward sat back in his chair, regarding him. “Rough and gray as rock, plain as plain can be. But hidden deep inside there’s great beauty within me.”

Jonathan shot him a look. “Are you saying I’m an oyster?” he asked incredulously.

A grin spread across his face. “I think it’s fitting, don’t you?”

He supposed there were probably less apt comparisons that could be made. And more derogatory ones. “Just for the sake of my own clarity, you’re telling me that you don’t see me the way other people do and that‘s because you see me… as an oyster?”

“You’re being overly literal, my dear.” He was still smiling. “It’s a metaphor. I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept.”

Jonathan rolled his eyes. “And what are you going to do when you discover that this particular oyster isn’t the kind with a pearl inside?”

He cocked his head to the side, a gleam in his emerald eyes. “Even without a pearl,” he said, “there’s always the meat.”

“…Is that supposed to be a dick joke?”

Process as usual c: