These dates weren’t really a weekly thing, but they were sort of loosely regular in some kind of way- when Wade suddenly felt like going out for something to eat instead of letting Joey pretend he was on masterchef, or Joey had recovered from the effort required to be social enough to leave the apartment once every now and then, they organised something, usually at the same few places. Tonight, Wade had insisted on Italian, and had wandered rather extravagantly around, speaking in a very awful accent and saying the names of different pasta shapes in the hope of sounding at least some what Italian. Joey seemed amused, but not very impressed. Their reservation was eight thirty, but by half six, wade had only just stepped into the shower, and he took twenty minutes minimum. Half an hour later, he stepped out, wrapping a towel around his waist and almost slipping on his way out towards the mirror above the sink. Looking around suspiciously to make sure Joey hadn’t, like, sensed his embarrassment, Wade focused on his reflection and wondered for a moment whether or not he should shave. Hovering, he considered asking Joey, but then decided all of this was too much effort and walked back into the bedroom to fully collapse onto the bed, closing his eyes and folding his arms so he could rest his forehead. What seemed like seconds past- but suddenly, Wade heard Joey’s voice, and wearily raised his head just enough to listen. For a moment, incredulous silence, then a long-suffering sigh loud enough to hear even from the next room, with an undertone if poorly concealed affection. [i]Wade, are you ready?[/i] Oh, shit. Reservations. Pushing himself up with his forearms, he moved to sit up, dragging his hands down his face and then standing up. Maybe it was time to get a move on. He stretched briefly and then stepped through the doorway to the hall, walking down and into the kitchen. Joey was stood there, arms folded, fully dressed- wearing a really nice shirt and looking good enough that Wade forgot what he was going to say for a second and just stared rather dumbly, looking like a lost puppy. Joey raised his eyebrows and Wade finally offered him a grin. [b]“How are you ready? It’s only-”[/b] A pause. His eyes were drawn to the clock on the wall. [b]“Oh. Oh well. Hi.”[/b] Before Joey could say anything else, Wade, still damp and clad in a towel, leaned in carefully to kiss him, moving a hand to rest at the back of his neck, resisting the urge to pull him close and risk protest. [b]“You look great, [i]Bruno[/i],”[/b] He said, the corner of his mouth tilting when he pulled away, hand dropping from the nape of his neck and to his side. [b]“Thought about what you’re having? I already know. [i]Italian[/i].”[/b] Quite shamelessly smirking at him, Wade then turned around, reaching to rub at his neck thoughtfully. [b]“You think we could just skip dinner and stay home?”[/b] Without even waiting for an answer, he turned back around and shrugged as if to say ‘it was worth a try’. Then, he leaned in to kiss Joey again, before grabbing hold of his hand and pulling him back towards the bedroom with purpose. Letting go only after he had shut the door, Wade crossed his arms and turned around. [b]“I don’t know what to wear. Would they mind if I just wore a towel? Is that normal in Italian culture? I’m fully immersed in it, by the way. [i]Penne. Ravioli. Cannelloni. Tortellini. [/i] My accent is better than [i]yours.[/i]”[/b] Of course, this playful taunting had a motive- Wade actually really like Joey’s Italian accent (he was, as a Canadian, rather oblivious to the fact that it was only really semi-accurate), and was always looking for a way to coax it out of him at most times. That, and he’d literally chosen the restaurant so he could make several inappropriate jokes and relish the look on Joey’s face (mortification) when Wade came out with them at the table of a relatively nice place. But those were the things he had to get used to- Wade’s unabashed way of showing affection, his apparent lack of shame, and his naturally confident attitude all made for somebody that a extremely socially awkward person would have something of a nightmare trying to keep in line. [b]“No, but I’m serious. What do I wear. I’m helpless, Joey. Helpless!”[/b]