summary: Matthew takes reader out for a fancy dinner, and the two make the most of their evening together.
pairing: Fem!Reader/Matthew
content warnings: none! short but sweet.
I swipe the glossy red shade over my lower lip, touching up my makeup before we head out tonight. despite the fact that we've been dating for a few months now, the idea of Matthew taking me out to eat– really taking me out– is making me positively giddy.
capping the tube and doing a quick once-over in the mirror, I admire the dress I'm wearing. it's new, something I may or may not have splurged on after work today. it's a creamy, inky shade, the color of pitch with an open back that I would normally never deign to wear. but something about it, the way the fabric sits against my shoulder blades, makes me confident.
after fluffing up my hair a little, I move into the living room to join my boyfriend. he's fixing one of his monogrammed cuff links, and he looks up at the sound of my footsteps.
his eyes run over me, the bloom of my mouth and the dress, and he smiles dreamily, not saying anything. my stomach is overflowing with butterflies as I look at him in his suit, so well-dressed. we stare at each other for a moment.
"so?" I grin, walking over to him and running my hands up his chest. "how do I look?"
"you..." his gaze flickers to my pout, then my form. "you're an angel."
I reach up and am about to kiss his cheek when I remember that I've got lipstick on. "I'll kiss you later."
"that's fine," he sighs, then takes my hand and spins me around in front of him. "I'm still in shock from how beautiful you are!" he says the last few words in his stupid monster voice, reaching out and tickling my sides while he pulls me into him.
"Matthew!" I squeal, trying to breathe through the laughter. he knows I'm especially ticklish. once he finally relents, I look up at him with a huge smile on my face. sometimes I feel like I'm dreaming with him.
"we're gonna be late, baby." he tugs on my earlobe playfully before taking my hand again and leading me into the entryway so we can put our coats on. winter is just starting, dusting the sidewalks with fluffy snow and blowing wind in our faces as we start walking to the car. he holds the door open, as usual, and before long, we're off to the restaurant.
even though Matthew is a bit of a reckless driver, I trust him. I've never told him this, but I love the way he places his hand on the back of my seat and turns around to assess the road behind him before he pulls out. something about it makes my blood warm up. he catches me looking, smiles and asks if I'm okay.
I'm fucking fabulous.
the restaurant is way fancier than I even imagined: cavernous ceilings that drip with chandeliers and walls covered in expensive-looking art. velvet curtains cover the windows, creating a wine-red ambiance of jazz and gentle conversation.
I must look dumb just staring at everything, but Matthew goes to the maitre d' and gets our reservation ready. we never go on dates this fancy; most of the time, we stay in and binge watch old movies or play board games or just talk. he said he wanted to treat me, though, so I'm more than happy to go along with it.
part of me feels slightly out-of-place as the host leads us to a secluded table, walking past rich-looking couples or groups of people who appear to be socialites. as much as I wish I could blend in with this crowd, I keep worrying that I'm going to trip or somehow break something. elegant situations tend to make me especially clumsy.
once we're seated and handed our menus, the host leaves us to talk.
"wow." my eyebrows raise as I check out the options. Matthew looks up.
"what?"
"this place is fancy." the corners of my mouth tug upwards. some of the items are in French, which makes the process even harder to untangle.
"too much?" he's a bit wary as he asks, like he's afraid I don't like it.
"no, no." I laugh. "I'm just impressed."
"you wanna get a bottle of wine?" he asks softly, grabbing the wine menu. I nod.
"sounds good." I think for a second. "do you happen to speak French?"
"dónde está el baño?" he jokes. before I can stop myself, I reach over the table and hit his arm, both of us laughing. it must be a bit too loud, because a couple people around us turn their heads. I settle back in my seat.
"that wasn't funny." I'm giggling.
"I wish I knew French." he muses, still perusing the wine selection. I sigh.
"honestly, me, too. very sophisticated."
"are we supposed to pair our wine with our food?" he whispers over the table.
"you think I know the protocol for this kind of place?" I hiss back.
"you know, what? who cares?" he sets down the menu and gives me a resigned smile. Matthew has always been uninhibited, and him deciding to just go with the flow gives me a warm feeling in my tummy. it's one of the most attractive things about him, in my opinion.
when the waiter comes to take our orders, Matthew and I just get a merlot and filet mignon, both of us starving. in the meantime, we talk about his day and my day and he tells a funny story about his friend. somehow, he and I always have the best conversations, even if they're about nothing at all.
literally you could ask us to discuss paint drying and we'd find a way to laugh about it.
"I was thinking... I'm gonna have a vacation soon," he trails off, the antique ring on his pinky finger clinking against his wine glass. "maybe we could go somewhere?"
"somewhere like...?" I gesture for him to keep talking. he grins.
"you can decide. as long as it's fun."
"what? no, you can't put that pressure on me, Matthew." I laugh. there are so many places I want to see, and places that I know he wants to see, that I don't wanna pick the wrong place.
"why not?"
"well, let's do this," I sit up more, resting my elbows on the table. the candle in the middle of the table flickers, casting his features in a pretty glow. "you list some places you'd like to visit, and if there's some overlap, we'll do that."
"okay." he rubs his hands together, then starts to think about it. I wait patiently, sip my wine and start to imagine how many possibilities there are for us. hiking along mountain trails, zip-lining through rainforests. if I'm being honest, I kind of just want to relax.
he breaks my train of thought as soon as he begins to tack off places.
"we could go to Costa Rica, or Croatia, or Mauritius... the Azores..."
"oooh, you know, I've heard the Azores are absolutely gorgeous." my eyes sparkle as I think about the little islands. "and they've got these super nice hot springs, too."
"private hot springs?" he asks me over the rim of his glass. my spine tingles with the implication.
"you wanna fuck in a hot spring?" I almost laugh. he reaches across the table and twines his fingers with mine, thumb rubbing over the back of my hand softly.
"I wanna do it on every continent." he winks, then pulls away as our food arrives. I try to suppress the heat rushing to my cheeks and regain my composure even though my entire nervous system feels like it's short-circuiting at the thought.
I try to put those images out of my mind before we thank the waiter, and then we're staring down at the plates in front of us with surprise. the portions are ridiculously small– mignon usually isn't that big, but it's such a fancy-restaurant-move.
Matthew and I start to giggle to ourselves, picking up our forks and eating. I'm not upset or anything; it's sort of funny. instead, we share asparagus and dig into the meal.
"do you think they'll be mad at us for laughing at the nickel-sized food?" I question. it's really tasty, to be fair, but I have to take small bites so as not to mess up my lipstick.
"for the amount they're charging, they're probably the ones laughing." he replies. I snort, reach up, and he high-fives me.
"that was good." I concede.
"thanks," he smiles, wipes his mouth with a napkin before focusing back on me. "so, back to the topic at hand– are we going to the Azores?"
"only if you want to." I smile.
"I'm the one that suggested it."
"okay, then. I guess it's settled." I shrug. we set our forks down, done with our food already after about twenty minutes. we start to talk logistics and things we want to do there, excitement building in my stomach the whole time. I love spending time with Matthew– having him all to myself for a couple weeks sounds like literal paradise.
he looks so pretty right now, too, with his glasses and fluffy hair and the ever-present smile. everything about him exudes positive energy, and I'll never get over that sensation. I just can't believe how lucky I am.
"I have an urgent question." he tells me suddenly, completely serious. I straighten up and frown at him.
"shoot."
"do you think we can get ice cream? somewhere else?" he asks. I make a face at the way he set me up for suspense, but the relief is overwhelming and my stomach still isn't full from the small filet. I nod quickly.
he gets the waiter's attention, pays, and before I know it, we're walking back to the car.
"thank you." I nudge his shoulder with my own, both of us bundled up in our coats. he leans down to kiss the top of my head before wrapping his arm around me.
"of course, darling."
I like his little pet names, how he says them with the kind of sweetness that nearly rots my teeth. even if Matthew didn't tell me he loved me every day, I would be able to tell just from the way he speaks. like I'm the only girl in the world.
we end up driving to a small ice cream shop by our home, a place that we always visit during the summer if it gets hot and we want sugar. there's almost nobody inside and we look sort of absurd in our fancy attire, but when I get to the counter to order, I let loose.
salted caramel with oreo crumbles in a waffle cone, piled high. he gets chocolate fudge and we lick at our confections while he pays. it's so yummy, hitting the spot in a way that a small slice of steak just couldn't. even though it's winter, ice cream is always good.
"is my lipstick all gone?" I grin, looking up from my cone to ask. we go to sit in the back room of the shop, which is completely empty.
"mostly, but there's a little bit..." he grabs my face across the table and guides me to him, sliding his tongue over my lower lip and pulling away to smirk. "got it."
"uh huh." I chuckle.
"you taste sweet."
"you wanna lick?" I offer my cone and he nods, trying it before offering me his own.
"literally how is ice cream so good?" I ask as we go back to our treats. music from the 50′s is playing over the speakers, delightfully saccharine as we just enjoy each other's presence.
"no idea. but I love the person who invented it." he says dreamily. "also, sorry about tonight. I know it was kind of a bust."
"what?" I stop eating for a second. "Matthew, that wan't a bust!"
"the portions were so small." he can't get over this. I snicker to myself.
"sure, but I had a great time."
"are you sure? I can plan something else special for us." he gives me puppy dog eyes, afraid that I'm disappointed. I could never be disappointed by a date with him.
"don't worry about that. let me do the work next time." I shrug.
"like?"
"like I'll make an itinerary for our trip. that way you don't have to stress about activities."
"you and your itineraries." he shakes his head slowly, but he's laughing.
"have they ever failed?" I ask, then tap my finger to my ear as if daring him to reply. when he just smirks in response, I get smug. "that's what I thought."
"I love you." the words come out of nowhere, a heavy sentiment for a light-hearted conversation. every time he says it, I feel it. that deep, burning adoration in my bones. I admire him for a moment.
"I love you, too."