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Brent walks back from the showers to the dressing room, left hand on his right shoulder as he rolls it backward to work out a kink. It's been a tough practice session; he's tired and sore. He gets dressed in a bit of a hurry, looking forward to heading home and having a nice, long nap.
He reaches for the jacket that's hanging on a hook in his stall when all of a sudden...
"Hey Seabs, wanna have dinner at my place later?"
Brent's head turns reflexively in Duncan's direction and, frowning, he asks, "Tonight?"
"Unless you had other plans?"
"No, no," says Brent in mild confusion. It's not exactly uncommon for Duncs to invite him to dinner, in fact sometimes Brent just shows up without having been invited at all—it's not that at all... Only today is February 14th. Valentine's Day. And even if Duncs knows perfectly well that Brent is completely, pathetically single, it still doesn't make a whole lot of sense for Duncs to extend a dinner invitation for tonight. See, normally, when you invite someone to dinner on Valentine's Day it's because...
Wait. Unless...? Is it possible that Duncs has finally, finally gotten a clue?
Brent is still halfway lost in his thoughts when Duncan cheerfully exclaims, "Great, then I'll see you around seven!" as he exits the room.
There's a stupid grin on Brent's face as he stands there watching Duncs leave. It is, quite possibly, the stupidest grin in the history of, well...grins. Brent doesn't register the fact that everyone in the dressing room is snickering, but even if he did, he really wouldn't care, because it's like Christmas right now—only, on Valentine's Day—and for once he's not the loser without a date.
~~~
It's twenty to seven when Brent shows up at Duncs' door. He stands there for a few minutes, nervously adjusting the collar of his shirt, and in the process almost drops the bottle of wine he's holding. He forces himself to take a few deep breaths before finally ringing the doorbell. He's a little bit early, but so what?
Moments later, when Duncan opens the door, the first words out of his mouth are a surprised, "You brought wine?" as though it's the very last thing he expected.
"Well...yeah," Brent replies, sheepishly handing him the bottle before walking inside. He's suddenly happy that wine is the only thing he's brought. He had almost picked up a box of chocolates before reminding himself that this is Duncs he's having dinner with, and chocolates would be much too cheesy. And weird. Obviously weird.
"Are you all right?" Duncan asks, frowning, looking Brent over from head to toe.
"Me?" asks Brent in a nervous chuckle. "Of course, why?"
An eyebrow raised in disbelief, Duncan replies, "Well, let's see... You're early, you're kind of jittery, you brought wine, you're wearing one of your nice dress shirts and—" he sniffs the air quickly "—and cologne?" He chuckles a bit and adds, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you look like a guy on a first date."
A little stunned, Brent suddenly notices that Duncs is wearing jeans and that same old plain white t-shirt he always wears—the one with a tear on the right shoulder that's been mended a few times. He's not wearing shoes, or any socks, for that matter.
Right. Well, clearly this isn't what Brent had assumed it was. And it's a wonder, really, that he'd ever assumed this was going to be something like that in the first place, but... it had made so much sense at the time!
Except it isn't that, and now he's kind of looking like a moron. An overdressed moron. Not to mention he spent the afternoon agonizing over this thing that isn't a thing—but that he badly wanted to be a thing—when he should have been napping instead.
"I might have gotten the wrong idea about this," he finally mumbles, looking down at the carpet and wishing he could disappear under it somehow.
Duncan looks at him, his expression halfway between confusion and astonishment. "Wait— Did you—? Did you think this was a date? As in—"
"Like I said, I might have gotten the wrong idea," Brent tells him, cheeks turning a bright shade of red. "I'll just, uh, let myself out now, and we can pretend this never happened, all right?" He turns and reaches for the doorknob.
"Seabs, hang on," says Duncan, grabbing him by the arm to stop him from leaving. "Does this mean—" he cocks his head to the side, frowning "—that you had actually considered, you know...? Dating me?"
"Yeah, well," Brent sighs, "If you hadn't figured that out just yet, then maybe you need your eyes examined." He shrugs, defeated. "Look, I'm just going to go now, and I'll see you tomorrow at practice. Or, better yet, I'll stay out of your way completely. Yeah, that's probably a better plan." He manages to get the door open, but Duncan pushes it closed before Brent has any chance to escape.
"It's no wonder you're still single, if you run out on your dates like that."
"I'm not runni—" Brent protests before his brain has a chance to catch up. "This isn't even a date!"
"Not if you leave, it won't be," says Duncan, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.
Brent stares at him, his expression slowly turning into a frown as he tries to make sense of what he's just heard. "Are you—" he starts, then clears his throat before nervously going on, "Are you suggesting it could be? Or are you just trying to make fun of me? Because, if you are, I swear—"
"No, no," Duncan cuts in before Brent gets really worked up about it. A little hesitantly, he adds, "I'm saying that if I'd realized this was why you were still single, I might have asked you out a long time ago, is what I'm saying. Guess I do need my eyes examined, after all, eh?"
A slow smile spreads on Brent's lips. "I think your eyes look just fine..." he says, then reaches for the door again, pulling it open slightly.
Duncan frowns. "Wait, why are you leaving? I thought—?"
"Oh, no, I'm not leaving," says Brent, a goofy expression on his face. "Well, not exactly leaving. I'm just going to step out for a second, ring the doorbell, come back inside, and then we can, you know...? Start over, like this conversation didn't happen?"
"What? Why would you want that?"
"Because," Brent insists, "this way it can be like we both already knew this was a date, and then it can start like a date is supposed to. You know? Starting over without me looking like an idiot and stuff?"
"You don't look like an idiot," Duncan says softly.
"Well, maybe not anymore, but..." Brent shrugs. "Okay," he adds, turning to make his exit, "so I'm just going to go out, and—"
"No, wait, don't leave," Duncan says, gently pulling him away from the door. "I like the idea of starting over, but if we're going to do that, could we start a little more like this instead?" He leans in a little, tentatively brushing his lips against Brent's.
"Oh, I like that," Brent mumbles, turning Duncan's timid attempt into an honest-to-goodness kiss. "Good plan."
When they pull apart a moment later, there's a goofy smile on Brent's face. "You know, I'm not sure that went exactly right," he says, "I think we should start over."
"As often as you like," says Duncan in a chuckle as he pulls Brent in for another kiss.
~The End.