Yeah, Frank was late, he was totally late no matter how you wanted to see it. And it was by about fifteen minutes, not exactly a train smash by normal standards, but this wasn't normal standards. It was a Tuesday. He cursed under his breath as he glanced at the clock on the dashboard of his car, the mental image of Ryan pacing in the kitchen ran through his mind.
Frank wasn't usually late; he wasn't the most punctual of human beings but he kept himself somewhat in check. Especially Tuesday. Usually, he kept track. Usually, he tried not to get too deeply involved with work so late in the day but he had delved into the latest article, and by the time he looked up from the screen again, everyone had already left for the day. He knew he had literally discarded his work at his desk, not bothering to pack away, barely remembering to take his phone and wallet in his hasty scramble to get out to his car so that he could race home and try and save himself from his boyfriend's disapproving scowl.
It was when Frank had been caught by his fourth red traffic light in a row, slamming on the brakes as he stared at the crimson light, did he begin to think that the universe was really out to get him.
Frank had eventually managed to get home, only after another ten minutes, however, making his total tally even more of a thorn on Ryan's curvy side. He forced his key into the door and pushed it open, surprised that his force didn't snap the key entirely. He waltzed into the house and looked around, breathless and panting, as he held a forming stitch in his side from the jog he had endured- the short distance from car to house had never seemed too far to him before. He pulled his shoulder bag off from across his chest and with a heady breath and tossed it aside onto the sofa. He turned on his heel and put his keys in the bowl. No Ryan in sight. Not good.
He walked into the kitchen and sucked his breath back in sharply when he saw Ryan sitting at the table, arms folded tightly across his chest, dark brown eyes trained and eyebrow cocked up with a deviously-irritated curiosity. Frank could only imagine that Ryan was sitting and waiting for whatever reason he had to scramble for, and Frank could only offer a weak and apologetic smile in return.
After all, it was a Tuesday, it was date night. The one night a week that they had decided to dedicate to each other and themselves. And with Ryan being... Ryan, he was naturally the timekeeper between the two, the organizer, the so-called housewife. And by God, was wifey going to have their date night go as planned. And Frank knew it, too.
Frank looked at Ryan and pointed to the door with his thumb over his shoulder as the latter remained unmoving from his chair, except his eyes. Those eyes, so perceptive and hawk-like when they wanted to be, but so doe-like and so enticing at the same time that you couldn't help but be drawn into the chocolate irises much like Frank was.
"Fuck, babe, I'm so damn sorry." Frank apologized instantly, hitting that dulcet plead in his tone, internally hoping that Ryan wouldn't be mad at him, "I-I got caught up at work. I was reading this article on political outstands in Uganda for my article and-"
Ryan raised a hand, "It's fine," He sighed out, smiling softly, a relieving sight to Frank, "I assumed you were running late anyway."
"The traffic was erroneous, dude. I kept hitting the-"
"Oh, my God. Will you relax?" Ryan cut him off midstream, unfurled his arms from his chest, a graceful action that matched literally everything that he ever did, and tucked a flyaway stray curl back behind his ear, "I don't need the gory details. You're here now so it's fine, sweetheart."
"I'd be mad at me if I were you," Frank muttered as he wandered to the fridge and opened it, stealing a bottle of water.
"Well, I'm me and I'm not mad." Ryan reassured as Frank took a long swig of water, "Let's not ruin the evening."
Frank could definitely not ignore the tone to Ryan's voice, he could tell that Ryan had not hit fury, but he had hit that particular tone of ornery condescension. Frank winced, feeling guilt in his stomach that he had somehow already ruined the evening for them both.
"You look nice," Frank added airily as he shut the fridge, looking at Ryan who was sat at the table, spindly fingers steepled and littered with chunky silver rings. Ryan looked at his watch, plump lips pouting when he clearly caught sight of the time. It would be the same as always. Reservation at Château Rouge, table booked for seven that evening. It had now reached the point where they didn't even need to make a reservation, it was just expected of them to pitch up like always.
And from the furrow in Ryan's brows, Frank could tell that it was probably nearing close to seven already. They weren't going to make it on time and it was making the curly-haired man anxious. Frank was still going to have to get ready. Shower, get changed, potter around as he did. Frank could see Ryan's leg twitching under the table. Ryan despised tardiness as much as he hated people who put on sock, shoe, sock shoe instead of sock, sock, shoe, shoe. Something Frank did when he wanted to piss off his partner.
"Thanks." Ryan sighed quietly, running a hand over his striped shirt and the paisley waistcoat that was opened over it. His fingers lay a gentle grip on the multiple necklaces he had on around his neck. Frank slid a finger into the knot of his tie to loosen it, pulling the lengthy silk completely undone before he tugged it from underneath the collar of his shirt, "Are you going to take long to get ready?"
"Nah," Frank shrugged as he walked towards the stairs, already unbuttoning his shirt, "Quick shower and a clothing change. Ready in no time." Frank caught Ryan staring at him, worry in his brows, "What is it, babe?"
"You gonna wear that shirt again for dinner?" Ryan asked nonchalantly, wondering how he had missed Frank putting it on this morning. It was the same shirt Frank always wore to dinner because it was the shirt Ryan had bought for him as a gift. It wasn't exactly Frank's usual style, mainly because it wasn't black, but rather a dusty periwinkle with lighter swirls over the left side. Ryan loved it so Frank loved it too, it was that simple.
"Probably not, dude." Frank told him as he unbuttoned it completely, putting his hands on his hips, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, "I wore it to work, it's got work-smell on it."
"Work-smell?"
"Ink and paper and sweat." Frank chortled softly as Ryan swallowed.
"Oh okay." Ryan's voice was flat, hiding his disappointment pitifully at Frank's outfit choices, "Don't take too long, please."
"Five minutes, babe," Frank told his boyfriend as he threw a smile over his shoulder before jogging up the stairs, already trying to decide what he wanted to wear. The last thing Frank wanted was to make Ryan even more anxious than he already was.
Twenty minutes later and they were finally out of the front door with Ryan sliding into the car and Frank bustling to lock the door behind him. Ryan sat and chewed on his nails nervously as he sat in the passenger seat, his seatbelt already across his chest. So late.
Frank climbed into the car, slamming the door lightly as he started it, withholding the sigh in his throat as Ryan looked at his watch for the thousandth time, "Please relax."
"What if the table might have been taken because what if they thought that we aren't coming? Of course, we are but what if they just assumed and gave our table to someone else? What if we turn up and would have to sit elsewhere? What if we turn up and there's nowhere for us to sit?" Ryan rambled on, his voice rising in octave as they pulled out of the driveway and out onto the street. Frank remained casual despite the tense hippie beside him that was biting on his bottom lip and staring frantically out of the window.
"Relax..." Frank smiled, reaching a hand over to give Ryan's thigh a squeeze, keeping his hand there for a prolonged second until he had to change gears, "It won't matter if we're a tad late, dude."
"You took so long to get dressed," Ryan grumbled, glancing sideways at Frank with a pointed upturn of his button nose. Ryan wasn't angry and Frank knew it, Frank couldn't help that he was running late at work, but he could have been a little quicker with getting ready for their date, "I've never known a person to take so long getting ready."
"I didn't take that long." Frank rolled his eyes, whining in protest, looking down at his outfit in the dark evening light. He couldn't argue that he had taken longer because he was on the hunt for a very specific black shirt that he wanted to wear with his grey jeans. He didn't want to wear a t-shirt, he didn't want to be so casual when Ryan was the epitome of grace and elegance in his bootcut jeans and paisley, "I took a normal amount of time to get ready."
"I hope they didn't give our table away." Ryan sighed, "We're so late."
"Ry, c'mon, please just relax." Frank smiled, turning the car off of the main street, "We're minutes away. They're not going to give it away."
"You sound so confident."
"Because they know by now. We're there every damn week," Frank smirked as he flicked the indicator light, slowing the car down at a stop sign, "They know who we are, they practically know what we order. Just relax. Let's have a nice evening, okay?"
Ryan pursed his lips as they drove off down the street, his eyes down at his phone as he undoubtedly checked the time again. He took in a deep breath, clearly trying his best to calm himself down to a semblance of the same level that Frank was at, "Alright. I'm calm."
"Good." Frank nodded as they turned into the car park, the same car park that they always drove into every Tuesday. They parked in the same space near the wall and the car came to a stop before completely switching off, "So what if we are late anyway? We're here now so it doesn't matter."
"Okay," Ryan replied, practically out of the car already, his voice apprehensive and dubious despite the fact that Frank knew he had a point. They were finally at the restaurant, the warm glow emanating from the large front windows, "You can explain why we were late."
"We don't need to explain jack squat, babe." Frank chuckled as he climbed out of the car and slammed the door and walked around the front of the car, "We don't owe them anything except our money in about an hour or so."
They walked into the restaurant and Frank stopped at the hostess stand, realizing with a twinge of regret that perhaps they should have phoned ahead for once as Ryan suggested. It wasn't that the restaurant was busy on that random Tuesday evening, there were free tables dotted around the small restaurant, but it was the fact that some of the tables had been moved around to form one long table down one side of the room. Waiters were laying cutlery and glasses as they walked in and Frank noted that their usual table near the window was nowhere to be seen.
"What in the-?" Ryan whispered, sounding appalled as a frown knitted his dark brows, "What's going on?"
"Nothing." Frank answered rapidly despite it being a clear lie, he still wanted to assuage Ryan's panicking but it was no use when there was clearly something going on, "I- I don't know, dude."
Frank had no clue and wished he could tell Ryan to allay his worries, but it was definitely for naught. He felt guilty now, looking at his boyfriend, ready to apologize, and open his mouth when Ryan took a step closer and approached a passing waitress.
"Hi," Ryan smiled at her, "We had a table booked for seven? Sorry... We ran a bit late."
"Oh," The waitress breathed out in surprise, clearly recognizing the two regulars, "We didn't think you guys were going to show."
Ryan shot Frank a pointed look and Frank raised his hands up innocently. He didn't think that they had run late to the point that their table had been given away. Ryan looked at her again, "Can we still eat? Our usual table seems to be... Missing?"
"Like I said, we thought you weren't coming tonight," The waitress explained, pointing towards the long table that was still being set up, "We have a group of twenty coming in so we had to rearrange."
Ryan seemed unhappy at that. Frank could sense that Ryan wasn't okay; he could see the look of sheer panic in his eyes. Frank knew that he was going to have to take control of this so Ryan didn't have a minor meltdown. A table was a table even if it wasn't the exact one needed to have a nice evening.
"Can we still eat?" Frank asked the waitress with a smile, "We made the reservation-"
"We didn't," Ryan muttered under his breath so only Frank could hear.
"Look, we didn't mean to run late, but can we still eat?"
"There is a free table, but it's not your usual one, guys." The waitress waved a hand apologetically, pointing towards a table on the other side of the small restaurant, "We can set you up there. Shall I bring you over some menus?"
"I don't know," Ryan immediately turned to Frank, the latter knew his boyfriend was not liking the idea of sitting somewhere else in the restaurant one bit. It wasn't like he was out of his comfort zone with the other table; and that made him internally squirm at the idea of sitting somewhere else, "Frank, what do you think?"
"I think a table is a table," Frank shrugged, knowing that wherever they sat was going to be just fine, but this was also Ryan with whom he was trying to reason. "Look," Frank backtracked fast, hoping to save the situation, "Just because we don't have our usual table doesn't mean that we won't have a nice time."
"Maybe we should just go home," Ryan suggested, "Get some food on the way..."
"No," Frank protested, realizing that the waitress was still standing by to find out if they wanted the free table or not, "We are here, there is a table, let's just have a nice evening, hmm?" Frank smiled at him before turning back to the waitress, "We'll take the table."
"But it's not our usual one..." Ryan complained again under his breath, walking close to Frank so he could hear while the waitress guided them to the dreaded table.
"Look at it like this, dude," Frank began after the waitress told them that she would bring over some menus, "It could be our table. What if they rearranged the tables to the point that our table that was once over there, is now right here, and we are actually sitting at our usual table."
Ryan looked skeptical at first, but Frank was already taking his seat, hoping that Ryan would follow suit. Which he finally did after an agonizing pause of clear indecision. The tall man pretty much just caved, seemingly liking the idea of the table actually being their table after all. Yes, it wasn't the same, but it could be for one night. Their table had just been moved.
"See," Frank smiled at him from the other side of the table, resting his chin on his fingers, "This is nice."
"I guess." Ryan said, still not feeling quite comfortable but the waitress had come back, handing them both menus before asking them what they wanted to drink, "I'll have a soda water with lemon please."
"Single Jack and ginger, if you please."
"You're driving." Ryan pointed out, hoping and praying that Frank wasn't thinking about getting drunk tonight. Drunk Frank was fun Frank, but there was no way in hell that Ryan would get in the same car as him. Plus he didn't want to fork out a small fortune on a taxi fare home if Frank did decide that he wanted to drink tonight. They had already decided in the car anyway; Frank was driving tonight. Ryan was the one who could have a few drinks.
"It's only one," Frank reassured him after the waitress had said that she would be back in a moment with their drinks, "Relax. I'm not getting drunk."
"Okay, good." Ryan nodded, picking up his menu before opening it and looking at it.
"Don't know why you even bother to look, babe," Frank smirked playfully, knowing that Ryan was going to order the same thing that he ordered every week.
"I like to look," Ryan told him with a playful scowl, looking at Frank over the top of his menu, "I might want something different."
"Really?" Frank asked, genuinely curious because he was now looking at the menu, because he always mixed it up and ordered something different. Or at least rotated what he had when they came here to eat. Ryan always had the steak, medium rare, with a baked potato and side of vegetables. When his food came he always ordered himself a white wine spritzer. Same thing every week. He was a creature of habit. So very unlike his significant other who relished change and new things.
"So are you going to order something different?" Frank asked casually before thanking the waitress for bringing over their drinks, practically knowing that Ryan wasn't going to change his mind, but he was just curious to see if Ryan was going to push the boat out and add some variety to their date night for once.
"Nah," Ryan decided instantly after seeing what he always ordered on the menu. He closed it, setting the menu down before he smiled, "I know what I like, I'll stick to it. You know what you're having?"
"I don't know..." Frank said slowly, eyes scanning over all the choices that were laid out in front of him, "The eggplant steaks sound nice..."
"What did you have last week?"
"God, I dunno," Frank sighed, unable to remember because it had been a whole week since they had last been here, "Something veggie."
"Well, you better hurry up and decide," Ryan spoke quickly, noticing that the waitress was watching them, "Think she's coming over."
"What can I get you guys?" The waitress smiled after walking back over and rejoining the pair, standing by their table while holding her pen poised against a pad of paper, "You having what you always have?"
Frank looked up, he knew that the waitress was talking to Ryan, who was known for never really changing his order when they came to eat. He smiled, wondering if Ryan was going to have a last-minute change of heart, but he didn't when he picked up his menu and handed it to her.
"Yeah." Ryan told her, "My usual."
"Medium rare steak, baked potato and a side of veg," The waitress said out loud as she wrote down his dinner order, "Still having a spritzer with your meal?"
"Yeah."
"Riesling?"
"As always." Ryan smiled at her, feeling quite proud of the fact that he could make the minimum effort on his order because the staff here knew. It was so much easier just to stick to the same thing and Ryan liked that.
"And you?" The waitress turned to look at Frank, waiting for him to say what he wanted, but he had no idea. He ran his thumb over his chin like it was going to help him figure it out. He ended up remembering what he had had the week before. Risotto.
"I'll have..." Frank spoke slowly, having one final scan of the menu, seeing Ryan looking at him pointedly, "Dude, I don't know..."
Ryan groaned audibly then, rolling his eyes.
"You want me to give you another minute?" The waitress asked nicely, still smiling her pink lipstick smile.
"We don't need another minute." Ryan reassured her politely, "Frank, you know yet?"
"I'll have the roasted asparagus and tomato pasta, please." Frank finally answered, closing his menu before handing it to the waitress.
"Anything else?"
"We're good for now," Frank told her, smiling at her, watching her when she said that their food would be with them soon before she disappeared off into the kitchen.
'Comfortable' was the main word when it came to Ryan, in Frank's opinion. Even though Frank knew that Ryan wished that they were sat in their usual place on the other side of the restaurant. Their usual spot was now being taken up by the growing group of people who were at the long setup table. He still knew that they were going to have a nice time; the few hours of catch-up and reconnecting.
They had been together since high school; sweethearts that stuck hip-to-hip after leaving school, scraping together enough money to get their own place. It was perfect for Ryan because he knew, from an early age, what he wanted to do with his life. Something that he really knew once he had figured out his sexuality and got himself a boyfriend that he loved so much.
"You okay over there?" Frank asked, frowning when he noted the small twinkle in Ryan's eye as he fiddled with one of his silver rings.
"I'm good," Ryan spoke, hand over his mouth as he stifled a hiccup, "Would rather be sat over there, though." He pointed towards their usual place across the restaurant, already getting a little too noisy for Ryan's liking.
"Well, we are making the best of a bad situation." Frank shrugged, smiling warmly.
"One that you created," Ryan noted, wiping the smile from Frank's lips, drinking more of his drink before he piped up, "You never did tell me why you ran late."
"Didn't I?" Frank frowned, trying to tiptoe around the reason because he knew why he had run late was the makings of a dull conversation that really wasn't appropriate for date night, "It doesn't matter. We are here now, so that's all that matters."
"But it matters to me," Ryan pouted slightly, "Tell me, I wanna know."
So Frank began what seemed to sound like the long and arduous explanation as to why he had made them late for their reservation. It really wasn't worth the conversation, they easily could have talked about something more interesting, like what they were going to be doing at the weekend, but no. Frank knew that Ryan wouldn't leave it be until he knew exactly why; he liked to be in the loop. After ten minutes of explaining how he had run late because he had lost track of time on some work, even Frank swore that he was getting bored of the sound of his own voice.
"Sorry," Frank apologized quickly when he caught Ryan looking at him with bored and tired eyes, propping his face up with his hand, elbow resting on the table, "This must be boring."
"It's not," Ryan reassured him with a smile, "I'm not finding it boring. I'm just glad that work is going well."
Work was the one thing that Frank about which he knew he couldn't complain; he worked for a local newspaper. He had scored the job not long after he and Ryan had moved in together. Ryan's parents ran the newspaper itself, taking it from Ryan's grandfather when he passed on. Frank had been offered the job because he and their son had been dating for so long now that he was practically a part of the family. Frank enjoyed his job, but even when the workload got hard, he knew he couldn't complain to Ryan because one way or another, his complaint would make it back to his boss; his unofficial father-in-law.
"So, my dude, how was your day?" Frank asked, running through the obvious choice of conversation starters because it was easier and even talking to Ryan- which should have been the easiest thing to do- became hard because they were in each other's space all the time. He found it hard because they had gotten to a point where Frank honestly didn't know what to say to Ryan.
Ryan went on about his day at work. The kind of talking and explaining what had happened to him which went into great detail. The epic tale of an accountant. Frank felt himself zoning out at one point because, as much as he was listening, he still felt his brain going into autopilot mode. Frank didn't feel bad about it, to be honest. He used to feel guilty for losing focus on Ryan's grandiosely dull stories, but with how long they had been together and how they had already become an old married couple at twenty-two, Frank sometimes felt himself wandering in his own head. Ryan went on smiling and laughing when he told the story about some joke which wasn't actually that funny to Frank.
Accountants have a really poor sense of humor, Frank thought to himself. He still laughed though. The dry, weak laugh that sounded kind of fake, but because Ryan was in mid-flow talking about his day, he didn't pick up on it. Neither did he pick up on how Frank was holding his drink, thumb running over the rim of the glass, looking into it before he gazed over at a nearby table.
They were here yet again on yet another repetitive date night and two people were sat not far from them a couple of tables over. A man and a woman who made Frank smile. They looked happy; he assumed that they were together. The man was reaching out, holding onto the woman's hand while he watched her intently. He looked genuinely interested in what she was saying and he laughed when she laughed at something funny. Plus the way they talked and he leaned closer to her. The way they just seemed to have this amazing vibe coming from them like a warm aura of love and affection.
Frank loved Ryan, he did. He had loved him from the moment they had said the words back in high school, but something was now missing. Frank could sense the spark from the couple a few tables over from them, but it made him wonder where his and Ryan's spark had gone. Was it still there? Was it just buried underneath everything else? All the nine-to-five routines and far too comfortable nights in and the goodnight kisses at bedtime with no possibility of sex to come from it?
"Are you listening to me?" Ryan asked, noticing how Frank staring off into space instead of putting his full attention onto what was being said.
"I'm listening." Frank snapped his head back around, looking right at Ryan with complete honesty plastered over his face, even though he hadn't really been paying attention, "You were talking about Spencer and the near office-lovers tiff that he had had with Scott."
Frank had been listening and Ryan just sat in his chair, looking at Frank, smirking at him, "What?" Frank raised an eyebrow.
"I thought I'd lost you for a second," Ryan said with an offish shrug, slowly sipping on his drink. Frank would never admit that he had been looking at the other couple across from them, jealous because even from just a quick glance and a quick assumption, their relationship was much more exciting and romantic than what Frank had with Ryan.
"With you the whole time." Frank smiled at his partner, putting Ryan's mind at ease. Ryan continued, talking more about work, talking about his day in general, talking about his journey home from work. Deep down, sometimes all he wanted to do was to tell Ryan to shut the fuck up. Hell, even find something more interesting to talk about so Frank could actually engage in the same conversation. He sighed, finding himself glancing back over to the table that had caught his attention in the first place.
The other couple was eating now, both of them were paying attention to the plates in front of them, but they were still talking. The woman had said something, making the man smile before he responded to her. Actual conversation; not just one of them being talked at because the one who was being talked at had just been trying to be polite. Frank watched for a moment, still feeling jealous of how they seemed to connect on such a simple thing like going out for dinner.
Frank didn't want them to come across as an old couple at the ripe old age of twenty-two, but God, Ryan was the kind of guy who could've probably have passed off as over-thirty with his behavior and view on their relationship. He was happy with the quiet dinners out, happy with the bedtime kisses before rolling over and going to sleep, and happy to just go day-in and day-out without any excitement.
Frank missed that, the excitement of it all. He missed going out and cutting loose, getting a little drunk with Ryan before stumbling home and ending up in bed with him, or even in the kitchen with him.
Frank noticed how the guy at the table held out a forkful of food to the woman. He looked like he was trying to encourage her to try his meal, which she did, leaning over and eating right from his fork. Frank couldn't remember the last time that they had even done that. It wasn't that Ryan was apprehensive about sharing food, it was just that it was something that never happened between them. Not at home, or even out at restaurants.
"Frank, did you just hear what I was saying?" Ryan said a little louder, making Frank look back at him, realizing that he hadn't been listening then. He looked wide-eyed at Ryan, trying to think on the spot.
"Yeah," Frank nodded confidently, "I'm sure it'll be good."
Ryan huffed then, sitting back in his chair, "You weren't listening to me."
"I was!" Frank insisted.
"So," Ryan cleared his throat, "If Spencer keeps up with the arguing, you think him getting fired will be good?"
Frank opened his mouth to answer, but Ryan had caught him and he knew there was no way to prove that he had actually heard. Frank didn't care about some guy that he barely knew getting fired. Frank spoke, trying to save himself, "That's not what I meant."
"Oh?" Ryan quirked an eyebrow up at him, watching Frank squirm while he spoke, "Do go on."
Luckily, something happened that had Frank realize that he could save himself at least. He knew how fussy Ryan would get if he had been paying attention to him, but thank God. Frank breathed a sigh of relief, pointing towards the kitchen as their waitress started to bring over their meals, "I thought I saw our food."
"Really...?" Ryan said, not sounding too convinced. He pursed his lips when his plate was set down in front of him, "You got distracted by our food?"
"Dude, you know me when I'm hungry," Frank smiled, thankful as all hell that the waitress had decided to appear at that very moment. She said she would be back with Frank's plate, giving him a window to finally save himself, "Can't concentrate when I'm hungry."
"Uh-huh," Ryan muttered, picking up a carrot from his side and eating it. He didn't want to cause an argument in public but he knew that Frank hadn't been paying attention to him. Ryan just let it go, smiling at the waitress when she brought over Frank's meal and his white wine spritzer, "Whatever you say, sweetheart."
Frank technically hadn't been lying; it had been perfect timing in all honesty. He was the kind of guy who couldn't concentrate when he had an empty stomach. He was also the kind of guy who could happily put up with a few minutes of silence while he started to eat his dinner, realizing just how hungry he actually was. Ryan was the same with his meal. It was like some form of preparation for him. He put his side vegetables onto the plate and he always made sure that everything was separated. Then he would sit there, poised with his knife and fork ready. Frank always watched for a moment, knowing full well that Ryan was taking a moment to decide what he was going to eat first. Did he ever consider changing it up and eating his baked potato before moving onto the steak? Was that what was going through Ryan's head right now? Steak or potato? He went for the steak first as always, starting to cut it up on his plate.
They talked while eating. Frank was sure that the conversation probably wasn't the same kind that the couple over from them were having, but Frank tried to push them out of his mind. He was still trying to enjoy their evening out. It wasn't like one couple could be the people that ended up putting a damper on the evening for Frank. Ryan was having a good time, he said that he was enjoying his food like he always did when the waitress came over to check. Frank nodded at her too, unable to answer with a mouthful of food.
They would have their meal and then maybe, just maybe, at bedtime Ryan would suggest something that would put a smile on Frank's face. That was if he was lucky. It wasn't even his birthday anytime soon.
"So..." Frank piped up, changing the subject halfway through his meal, sipping on his drink before looking at Ryan, "I got given an opportunity at work today."
"Did you?" Ryan queried, looking excited for Frank because usually when he got an opportunity, it usually came with a bonus of some sort, "What kind of opportunity?"
"To write an article," Frank explained, smiling, "Basically, I go and interview someone in politics for like, how they got into it. What they plan to do. Usual questions. Unfortunately, I can't ask how fucked up the system is, but I think we all pretty much know the answer to that without even questioning."
"That's fantastic! I'm so proud of you," Ryan beamed, he knew Frank could do it because Frank was pretty clued up on stuff like this unlike himself. He took a sip of his wine, "How long do you have to do it?"
"A week," Frank said, feeling nervous about it because seven days really didn't seem like a long time, especially seeing as he didn't know anyone and he barely had any decent connections. Yes, he knew that he could find people to talk to through work, but actually bagging himself a politician with whom he could talk. Hell, he didn't know many, if at all any that lived in his area.
"That's not bad."
"They know I have an interest in politics so that's why they offered it to me. They know I will do a good job on it because I actually really want to do it." Frank added with a small smug smile, mentally patting himself on the back.
"That's amazing," Ryan continued to gleam over at his shorter partner.
"Yeah." Frank smiled, taking a sip of his drink, in his mind, he knew he was going to do it and do it well because this was his chance to prove himself.
"So do you know who you are going to do the article on?
"I don't know..." Frank deflated with a sigh, pushing his dinner around his plate for a moment, "I don't really have any connections to anyone political. I can probably get through to someone at work, but it's going to be hard to get an interview with only a week."
"I know someone." Ryan smiled, a knowing and cryptical smile that seemed to make his entire face light up in a different warmth. Frank knew that look, that face. Ryan was feeling pretty confident that he could help.
"What?" Frank stopped dead, a fork of food halfway to his mouth before dropping it back down to his plate, "How? Wh- Dude, how have you never told me this?"
"Oh relax," Ryan chuckled, waving a hand at Frank because he honestly looked like he was trying to remember if this was something that he had been told before and he had just forgotten about it, "I have a friend who got a job as an assistant for someone big in the area. They're not the brightest person and I'm pretty sure that they won't last as their assistant."
"Who?" Frank frowned, trying to picture and imagine one of Ryan's friends working for someone in politics.
"Remember Brendon?" Ryan asked, wondering if Frank remembered him from the last time they hung out some months back at some birthday party that Ryan had originally not wanted to go to. He had been glad that he had gone in the end.
Frank thought for a second, trying to remember who this guy was. Eventually, he figured out who Ryan was talking about, "Forehead. Yep, I remember him."
"He is the assistant to someone pretty high up." Ryan explained, hoping that he was going to be helping Frank out in some way. Even if Frank couldn't talk to the person that Brendon worked for, then at least he could try and put him in touch with someone who would be available, "So, maybe I can talk to him and see if he can do something. Do me a favor so you can write your article. Blow my dad out of the water with it."
Frank couldn't believe that Ryan would do that for him. He didn't know what to say for a second, mouth opening and closing a few times before finally he found words that seemed even a semblance worthy, "That would be amazing. Thanks, Ry."
"You're welcome."
Frank felt so happy; the dull cloud that had been hanging over his head seemed to have lifted. All thanks to him piping up about how his day had been at work.
"Your food looks nice..." Frank changed the subject again, looking over to the other table, wondering if Ryan would swap food like the other couple had done.
"It is nice," Ryan agreed with a nod, "One of the reasons why I get it when we come here."
"Can I actually try some of yours?" Frank asked, testing the water to see if Ryan would actually do it. Such a simple thing to do; just put some on a fork and reach across the table. If the couple over from them could do it then why in the world couldn't Ryan? There were probably many reasons why he couldn't and wouldn't do it, but Frank was being optimistic, waiting for Ryan to do it.
"Sure," Ryan told him, pushing the side across the table so it was closer to Frank.
"Oh," Frank uttered flatly, In reality it was nothing but to Frank, it bothered him and knocked the wind out of his sails a little bit. Why couldn't Ryan just be a little more like the guy from across the restaurant? Why couldn't he just be a bit more... Frank didn't even want to finish that thought.
"What?" Ryan questioned, wondering why Frank looked like he had just sucked on a lemon.
"Nothing," Frank muttered, trying not to sound like he was done, but deep down inside of him, there was a small part of him that was more 'done' than an overcooked steak.