Bill Hader Oneshots

Argument Pt. 3/3

You weren't sure how he got your number, but he did. The text was curt, just telling you who he was and where to meet him.

You started getting ready two hours before you had to leave. Nerves. This was territory into which you hadn't ventured. You were sure you'd mess it up: say something and make it weird or reveal too much or start another one of our countless arguments. The two of your were still coworkers, after all. You had no practice at interacting without a job and time pressure. How were you supposed to have a conversation with Bill without the sound of the Lonely Island crew laughing in the next room? What would break the silence when Fred wasn't there to stick his head in and ask what we thought of his Swedish accent?

You resisted the urge to fiddle with the hem of my dress as you walked into the restaurant. Outside, the streets were ablaze with neon, alive with sound. Classic New York. Inside, Bill was already there. He waved you over and you sat down together in a small, secluded booth.

"Full disclosure," he said, "I did not know it was this fancy when I made a reservation. I couldn't tell you what all these different forks are for if you put a gun to my head." You laughed, thankful he was articulating your thoughts exactly. Your attention was briefly stolen by a man to your left, dressed exactly like–

"Devin," Bill said, almost in awe. It was as if he had been peeled off the page. The man was dressed in a plaid blue shirt and jeans. He had long, bleached blonde hair parted to one side. Even an untrained eye might be able to spot that he was spitting image of Bill's character in The Californians sketch.

"Hey," the man spoke to a passing waitress, "Like, uh, can you tell me–" That was as far as you heard before both and Hader spilt into laughter. You could recognize the L.A. accent immediately and it was priceless.

"Wow," you said when the two of you managed to calm down. By then, both the man and the waitress were long gone and the two of you had traded his line ("Like, uh, can you tell me–") back and forth in genuine hysterics.

"How much did you pay him to do that?" Bill asked.

"I was about to ask you the same thing."

It made it easier, the laughter, but it didn't completely assuage your fears. That was still work-related, after all, and the Devin-look-alike was a stroke of luck. It wasn't until Bill correctly remembered your hometown that you felt the tension in your shoulders start to seep.

It felt like a dance. You came back to work related things everyone now and then, but slowly the space between mentions of pitch meetings or rewrites grew, and by the time Bill was graciously picking up the check you hadn't mentioned anything related to SNL in nearly an hour.

"I had a good time," you said as he waited for a taxi with you.

"Good, good." There was a pause like a breath and then the both of you spoke at once.

"Did you wanna maybe-" you started as he said "If you want we could-" And then the both of you stopped, laughed, told the other person to go first, no really you go first. Finally, Hader bit the bullet and spoke.

"Same time next week?"

You nodded, surprising a grin. A taxi drove up to the curb.

"This doesn't mean I'm going to stop arguing with you over sketches," you warned as you pulled the yellow door open.

"You better not." He waved goodbye and you were driven off, smiling the whole way home.