As Dennis mulled over which of Bret’s statements to attend to first, Bret watched as he brought his hand up to uncomfortably fiddle with his fringe, only to let his hand drop awkwardly when he realised it wasn’t in it’s usual place. To any other onlooker, the aborted action might have looked slightly awkward, with no real meaning behind it, but shame burned deep within Bret when he realised he watched Dennis enough to know of all his nervous little tics. That’s if they could even be considered nervous tics. Dennis didn’t seem like the kind of man who got nervous, although he did play with his fringe a lot. Bret’s heart jumped nervously in his chest, apparently just thinking about Dennis brushing his hair out of his eyes was enough to elicit a reaction in Bret. He needed to, as Alice would say, get a grip.
“Oh, alright.” Bret responded, trying to inject a sense of cheerfulness into his otherwise strangled tone. Bret didn’t really feel like sitting in a restaurant consisting of other awkward couples thrown together by the auction, which was, unfortunately, the only way he could imagine his night going. As much as Bret liked to put a positive spin on matters, believing in an optimistic ending to this date seemed out of reach, even for sunny, positive Bret Dreschler. He suspected there’d be an hour or so of forced conversation, as well as Bret nervously biting his tongue so he didn’t question just why Dennis had bid for him. He really wasn’t sure he could handle a repeat of their famous back and forth, that usually consisted of one or both men admitting they had feelings for the other, kissing, and Dennis decidedly ignoring him for the next couple of weeks, or even months. It was a pattern that was starting to get Bret down a little.
As Dennis took off at full speed down the path, Bret fell into step a little ways behind him, not sure whether he ought to jog to catch up or not. Surely, when someone was walking that fast and not looking behind them to check whether or not their companion was following, they wanted to walk alone. But that seemed silly given that they were walking somewhere together? Silently cursing Dennis Archer for being absolutely impossible to read, Bret jogged a couple of steps until he fell into stride with Dennis, trying to catch his eye to shoot him a smile. He silently cursed Dennis a second time for not only being impossible, but for making him compromise his naturally sunny disposition and making him dread something that ought to be fun. He’d wanted to go out with Dennis forever, but certainly not like this.
“I do? Thank you, Dennis.” Bret replied, sounding unsure of himself. Dennis’ first name sounded odd and too familiar in his mouth, and Bret nervously regretted deviating from his usual ‘Dennis Archer’. Somehow that seemed less formal and less intimate than referring to him solely by his name.
Bret ducked through the door before it had the chance to swing back and hit him, silently following Dennis following their waitress through a dim and crowded restaurant. The German man wondered when it was alright to speak, or even to lift his head, staring nervously at Dennis’ shoes to guide him through the maze of tables. He was contemplating taking out his phone and texting Alice for help, who would surely be the friend most attuned to the Dennis situation, and also the friend who would be able to get him out without making him feel guilty, saving he and Dennis from a night of forced small talk, when he ran straight into a stranger.
Bret jumped back as though he’d been shocked, an exclamation of surprise slipping out in his familiar German. The man in front of him narrowed his eyes as though he’d uttered something rude and defamatory under his breath, which Bret actually got a lot when he spoke German. He’d been told by vocal and rude passersby that it wasn’t a nice language, that it constantly sounded like he was angry no matter how soft spoken he was. It didn’t seem to matter that in English, his words had translated to something akin to ‘Oh bother’, people shifted nervously when he chatted amicably to his sister in their shared language, people were cruel and judgemental.
“Sorry.” Bret corrected himself, eyes moving upwards to look at the man. Bret wasn’t a particularly small man. He had a great height to him, and filled out from the time he spent swimming, surfing and even drumming. His mild mannered personality and sweet smile often counterbalanced the fact he was physically quite threatening, but to this man, Bret must have seemed tiny. He swallowed nervously, casting a glance at Dennis to see if he’d noticed Bret was no longer following.
“Watch it.” the man spat, Bret catching the stink of alcohol on his breath. He managed a meek smile, slipping past the stranger to catch up with Dennis and the waitress, who’d paled considerably watching the interaction between the two. Bret shot her a good natured smile, and was pleased to see the corners of her mouth turn up as she handed him a menu, gesturing to his seat. She left her name with the two men before scurrying off, assuring them she’d be back in a couple of minutes to take their order, and letting them know that if they wanted drinks, they’d have to make their way to the bar.
“Do you want me to go to the bar?” Bret asked him, eager to seem helpful, hoping to get a fresh start after all the mis-starts to their date.
Dennis’ plan was to make it to their assigned table, sit down, order the cheapest burger on the menu and pray that the chef was feeling generous tonight so his plate would be in front of him in a matter of minutes. He dreaded the idea of being forced to endure awkward small talk with Bret about the weather or the other man’s dog or, God forbid, how he was getting on with Marcus and the band. Although Dennis was currently at the stage where he was well and truly over his romantic feelings for his ex-bandmate, he still wasn’t keen on the idea of discussing him with Bret. Especially when he’d kissed Bret more times than he’d kissed Marcus before, even if his kisses with Bret had been softer and sweeter instead of bruising and rough. His stomach flipped a little when he was reminded of the way he had allowed himself to say fuck it and kiss the other man. He was determined not to slip up like that again tonight although, really, tonight was the result of one big slip up anyway, as Dennis had no idea why, in his right mind, he had thought it would be a good idea to bid for Bret at the auction. When he’d raised his stupid fucking paddle in the air and the gavel had banged on the table, Ashleigh had turned to give him a look which he had come to understand meant you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. She had a point.
The waitress, nervous and skittish ever since Dennis had all but barked at her, continued to weave her way in and out the maze of tables. Dennis had no choice but to follow her, and trusted that Bret was right behind him. He nearly glanced over his shoulder to check, but was too scared that he might accidentally make eye contact with the man who was supposed to be his date tonight.
His firm resolve to not look anywhere near Bret disappeared, however, when he heard a commotion behind him. Frowning, he twisted the upper half of his body so he could take a look behind him.
Bret, it appeared, had accidentally stumbled into a man much beefier and burlier than he was. Dennis watched as Bret apologised immediately, manners that Dennis had never been taught making it easy for him to do so. Figuring that was that, Dennis was about to shrug off the incident, roll his eyes at Bret and maybe attempt to break the ice with a lame jibe directed at Bret’s lack of co-ordination despite being a drummer, when the other guy immediately spat out a warning.
At once, Dennis froze. He took one determined step forward, that leg being the one with his ankle monitor clamped firmly around it. The damn thing reminded him immediately of the trouble he couldn’t get into tonight, but he was seeing red, especially upon seeing the timid smile that Bret passed over to the man before the fucker stormed off. When Bret turned back to him, Dennis whirled around and stalked after the waitress again, acting like he’d never seen the altercation never mind let it have an effect on him and his temper.
Sitting heavily down in the uncomfortable wooden seat and nearly bumping elbows with the guy at the next table over, Dennis closed his eyes and inhaled through his nose in an attempt to calm himself down. He had visions of being elbowed when trying to eat his damn food and then letting his temper get the better of him and upturning the other restaurant patron’s wine over his head. He figured that would get him chucked out at the very least, and he was pretty sure that all but breached the strict terms of his parole.
Pointedly not looking at Bret, he deliberated ignoring the man’s question altogether. Eventually, he looked up though, taking in the wide-eyed expression of the man, noting how unsure he looked sitting there across the table from him. Dennis’ heart twisted in his chest.
“You alright?” he blurted out. His hands gripped the edges of the menu tightly as he stared, unwaveringly, at Bret. He should be forcing himself to look away, but it was just as hard to keep his eyes trained on Bret as it was to avert his gaze.
“That guy,” he clarified. “He was trying to start something.”
His expression turned dark and he eventually tore his eyes away from Bret’s face to search around the room for the guy. But he didn’t find him. Eventually he clenched his jaw, breathing evenly for a few seconds before finally acknowledging Bret’s question.
“I’ll have a beer,” he said then dropped his focus onto the menu in front of him, grateful that he had a coupon because these prizes were really taking the piss.
gummygunk
izzy806
dededos
jbbartram-illu
theartofmadeline
prguitarman
snowghoul