How to Date an Ed
Cloudy blue eyes crack open at the burning light. The pale male grunts softly, shifting on the couch. He groans; his neck is stiff. Obviously from sleeping wrong. The genius' brain catches up to him. Gracious! He slept on the couch! What time is it? Eyes snapping open in alarm, he gasps, looking at the clock. It's seven thirty. He has two hours to do his morning chores, get ready for work, AND get dinner thawing. After hurdling himself off the couch, the blue-eyed man makes a mad dash to the laundry room, rotating the load of Blues from the dryer and the Oranges from the washer. Strange, though, he could have sworn it was a different color in there....
Quickly folding the dried Blues, he plucks out a colbalt blue button down, and nearly sprints to his bedroom. The sockhead carefully places the shirt onto the chair and grabs a pair of black slacks from his closet, almost carelessly tossing that on top of the shirt. He does his best not to wince at the future wrinkles he is causing, and instead throws open his chester drawer for socks and a clean pair of underwear. Nodding absentmindedly, the young genius snatches his bathing supplies, and mentally starts a timer. This shall be his quickest shower-ever.
He lied. The skinny lad couldn't fathom skipping his scrubbing. He would have gone crazy. He now has only forty five minutes. Trying not to panic, he shimmies into his pants, slips on his shirt, and- lord, he dared- goes downstairs with his socks in hand. After placing them with his work shoes, the gap-toothed male heads to the kitchen and nearly tears the refrigerator door off in his haste. Grimacing at what the smell will do to the house, he tosses a large bag of slightly frozen shrimp into his sink to thaw. The steak shall be fine in the fridge, he muses. He grabs an apple and starts walking to the door. Thirty minutes.
The blue-eyed genius bites into the apple while he wriggles his socks and shoes on, tying them tightly. He winces upon realizing he will have no time for him to vaccuum. And unfortunately, it won't be able to wait, since Kevin will be joining him that night. His fists clench at the thought of waiting until tomorrow to vaccuum. But he supposes he has no real choice in the matter, if he wishes to make it to work on time. After squeezing his eyes shut, he grabs his backpack, keys, and heads out the door, apple still in his mouth.
To nearly walk into Kevin, who was apparently waiting for him outside of his abode.
"Hey, watch it, Double D. You're gonna hurt yourself if you keep this up."
Double D blinks once. Then twice. He pulls the red fruit from his mouth. "Kevin? Good morning, but what are you doing here?" Kevin looks at him pointedly. "I'm taking you to school, remember? 'Cuz that's what couples do?" The genius could smack himself. "Oh, I'm sorry, Kevin, I forgot to mention. I have work on Tuesdays and Thursdays in the mornings before school." The redhead blinks. "Oh. Okay. I guess I can take you to work, since I'm already awake and here."
A wave of guilt washes over the sockhead. He didn't mean to make Kevin get up for no particular reason. "I'm sorry, Kevin."
Kevin looks at the dejected figure. "What's there to be sorry for?" Sad blue eyes look up at him with hope. "You're not mad? That you're up to take me someplace?" Kevin just shrugs his shoulders. "Eh, I was gonna be up anyway. Breakfast, ya know?" The smaller man nods sagely, as if Kevin just dropped a word of wisdom. It was kind of funny. "I most certainly do. Well, then, I shall accept your offer of a ride." Chuckling, they both hop in the car and drive off.
"So where do you work at, anyway? Knowing you, Double D, someplace like a library. Or a Museum," Kevin muses. To his surprise, the other male chuckles.
"Sadly, neither of the sort. Just like any other college student, I work in the food business. A high end cafe, I'll admit, but serving all the same." Kevin's eyebrows raise. Huh. Wasn't expecting that. Though, is it just him, or is the dork being... weird? He can't place it, but something is definately off about the genius. Eh, whatever.
"A cafe, huh? What's it called?"
"Oh. It's called The Crowned Royale." Kevin looks at his boyfriend (god, he has a boyfriend,) confused. "What, like the booze?" The sock head does this half shrug. "Sort of. The first owner was a bit obsessed with the drink, then his son took it over, and had apparently fallen in love with an actual royal, and had themed most of the restaurant after her. That man's cousin now owns it, and it's become a bit of a... well, I guess you could say, it's a bit slummy."
The red head bites back a snort. The dork works at a high-end dive? He's never heard of such a thing. After the sockhead gives him directions, they make it there in record time. Woah. The place looks like an old marble castle, complete with cracks in the pillars and peeling paint. Seems the blue-eyed man was right. He bets this place would look beautiful if some hard work was put to it, though he supposes with Double D working for them, it will be in no time.
"So, when do you get off? I'll come get you and we can hit Taco Bell before you go to class." Double D turns to Kevin, a small blush staining his cheeks. Ah, that almost sounded like a date. Mustn't fantasize, Eddward. "Two. And that sounds lovely, Kevin. I shall see you then, then." After hesitating, he grabs the larger male's hand and squeezes it before getting out of the car and heads towards his work. The sockhead hears the Mustang roar away, how, he doesn't know, for all the blood has rushed to his ears. His face is burning. Oh dear. He shouldn't have done that. That was quite intimate for them only having been a couple for a day and a few hours. After calming down, he heads inside to the back of the kitchen, grabs the server apron and sets to work.
He glances up from cleaning glasses to see Eddy walk through the door. The louder of the two hadn't changed much in appearance. Still shorter than average, and much stockier than most, the only real physical changes include more hair- everywhere, a scar on his chin from the Incident, and a hard look in his navy blue eyes. "Good morning, Eddy." A tired smirk is tossed his way. "Haven't had your coffee yet? That's surprising. I'll make a pot, shall I?" The shorter male gives him a grateful look as he places his cook apron upon himself. Double D smiles as he makes a pot of dark roasted coffee.
It was actually thanks to Eddy that he has this job now. The shorter man had found this place after his attempt to being a financial broker failed, and has made his omlettes famous in a surprisingly short amount of time. The sockhead has even heard about the owner wanting to give Eddy this place. He is happy that Eddy has found his passion at last. Granted, the man is still a bit obsessed with making money, but the stockier male likes making people happy with his cooking more. Needless to say, the skinnier man was impressed with his friend's progression. Starting as a dishwasher, to bustboy, to vegetable cutter, to assistant cook, to head cook in less than seven months would be impressive to anybody.
The coffee maker dings and the sockhead pours the liquid lava into a clean cup. After making sure none spilled, he makes his way back into the kitchen to see Eddy cutting up vegetables. He hands the mug of java to his friend, then asks, "So, what is the specialty for today?" He sees his short friend think for a second, then pulls out a whiteboard from his pocket. He scribbles on it and turns it to him.
Omlette du Fromage Asiago. Garnished with an orange. Or a grape, haven't decided yet.
The young genius looks up from the writing, thinking. "Will there be some sort of meat involved with the omlette?" More scribbling ensues.
Ham, chicken or shrimp. Whatcha thinking, sockhead?
The taller male smiles at the nickname and bad grammar. Some things really don't change. "I'm thinking instead, a pineapple for the ham, a vine of grapes for the chicken, and an orange with the shrimp." The shorter man nods enthusiastically, more scribbling appears on the board.
Brilliant. Thanks, DD.
He smiles at the sentence. "Anytime, Eddy." And with that, the taller male heads to the chalkboard menu, and wipes off yesterday's "specialty" and replaces it with today's. He wipes down the bar tables with haste. They will open in twenty minutes. His eyes soften in sadness as he mentally tries to remember the last time Eddy physically talked. Right after the Incident, really. He mentally slaps himself. Shouldn't think about that, there's work to do. He hums a song he heard from the internet as he sets about to work.
Kevin yawns as he sits on the couch. Bored. He is so bored. The house is clean, Double Dork is at work, all of his friends are in class. All the television shows are reruns, and there's nothing new or interesting on the internet. So, yeah, there's nothing to do. The red head glances at the clock. 10:43. Urgh. Usually he would be asleep right now. His eyes slide to the shiny red textbook, sitting innocently on his coffee table. A ginger eyebrow twitches. He can almost hear the nagging voice of the dork, Kevin, you must do your homework. Blah, blah, blah.
I am proud that you're here...
Kevin sighs, shoulders slumping. Dammit. He knows he has to do that stupid math problem. He knows that he has to pass math to become a mechanic. And, dammit all, he knows it'll be a wasted time if he just wings it. Groaning, he drags the book closer to him, flipping it open to where the dork bookmarked the formula. Whelp, he shouldn't let a dork down, should he?
The redhead exhales sharply, feeling confident. It took him awhile to understand the formula, and he even did a couple of the examples first to make sure he did it right. But, now, the math problem is finished. And he's pretty damn sure it's correct. But, to be sure, he'll have Double Dork look at it. Speaking of... Kevin glances at the clock again and almost blanches. Ten til two. Fuck. Quickly, he grabs his wallet and keys, throws his shoes on, and is out the door.
The blue eyed male does his best to not pace in front of the cafe. While work wasn't completely stressful, it wasn't able to take away his doubts and fears about the whole charade. What if he and Kevin hate each other after this? What if they simply become friends? What if they become more than friends?! The genius shakes his head at the thought. Curse his hopeless romantic fantasies. No, he fears the worst- that he would fall for Kevin somehow, and the red head would abandon him. He sighs dejectedly; it was going to be a very long fortnight.
He feels the anxiety slide off him when he hears the unmistakable screech of tires turning too sharply. He turns to the road just in time for an acid green Mustang to slide to a stop right in front of him. The young genius sighs quietly in relief. Kevin didn't forget about him. Smiling softly, he heads towards the vehicle, and after waiting for the lock to be released, opens the door, and slides in.
"Greetings, Kevin. Thank you for coming to get me." The taller male smirks at him. Eddward tries to not blush; It would seem that Kevin gains a dimple when he smirks. It's oddly dazzling. "No problem. So, you ready for the Taco Bell experience?" At this, he grins.
"Without a doubt."
"Well, Double D, here we are. And just in time, too. Looks like the lunch rush just ended." Nodding stiffly, the young genius exits the car with trepidation. Kevin had driven to a tiny little building that seems it would barely fit ten people, let alone feed hundreds upon thousands of people daily. Not to mention the paint job was a bit gaudy and peeling in some places, and... well... it just simply looked loud. Maybe a bit filthy. Sighing heavily, he follows the redhead into the establishment. And is pleasantly surprised. For one, it was quiet, despite the loud colors outlining most of the furniture. And second, while not the cleanest, it certainly could have been worse. Only a couple bits of shredded cheese littered the floor and some of the tables adorned in the dining hall. And this is supposed to be after lunch rush! Impressive, to say the least.
He nearly gasps as he is grabbed by the arm and practically dragged to the line by the jock. Who is chuckling. "Jeez, Double D, didn't think the place would intimidate you that much." The blue eyed man feels himself pout slightly, feeling slightly embarrassed. "I'm not intimidated. I'm impressed. There's a difference." Casting him a dubious look, Kevin then gestures to the- LARGE- menu illuminated in front of the counter. "Okay then. Whaddya want?" His eyes widen as he feels his mouth fall open slightly in shock. That is a lot of choices to choose from. What would he want from here?! Well, he knows that burrito Kevin fed him yesterday was the first on the list, but anything else...? He has no clue.
Yep, he's intimidated, Kevin thinks as the younger male fidgets where he stands, not breaking eye contact with the menu at all. Oh. Right. Dork's never been here, so he's not going to know what to get. The red head steps up to the cashier. "Are you two ready to take your order?" asks the girl. Kevin nods, giving the dork a sideways glance. "Yeah. I need two bean burritos with no onions, extra cheese and red sauce. I need two hard tacos and two soft tacos,both with no lettuce and add sour cream. And... one chicken quesadilla. Oh, and two medium drinks." The girl smiles politely.
"Alrighty then. For here or to go?" Kevin motions here as the total comes up to almost twenty bucks. He grabs the cups and change, somehow fenagling the reciept into his pocket. The taller male turns to give the dork his cup, and is startled. It would seem the sockhead is having some sort of meltdown, still staring at the menu. Feeling a slight ping of concern, he blocks the smaller man's line of sight. "Hey, Double D. You with me?" The sockhead shudders almost violently, then looks up at him. "Kevin? Is everything alright?" Kevin frowns slightly. "Uh, everything but you. The hell was that?" Which was apparently the wrong thing to say, since the man's voice raised an octave, his expression one of almost panic.
"What was what?! I-I have no idea what you're talking about!"
Snorting, Kevin rolls his eyes. "Whatever. You don't wanna talk about it. Here." Almost roughly, he hands the dork his cup and he heads to the drink dispenser. Annoyed, he shoves his cup to get the ice. What was that? Some sort of panic attack? He's not sure, but it's definately a secret. Kevin's frown deepens as his eyebrows furrow. Come to think of it, the expression almost looked like the dork wasn't even there. Like, his body was experiencing an anxiety attack, but his mind had left. One thing is for sure- something was wrong with the sockheaded dork.