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. Wade, are you ready? 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. “How are you ready? It’s only-” A pause. His eyes were drawn to the clock on the wall. “Oh. Oh well. Hi.”

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. “You look great, Bruno,” He said, the corner of his mouth tilting when he pulled away, hand dropping from the nape of his neck and to his side. “Thought about what you’re having? I already know. Italian.” Quite shamelessly smirking at him, Wade then turned around, reaching to rub at his neck thoughtfully. “You think we could just skip dinner and stay home?” 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. “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. Penne. Ravioli. Cannelloni. Tortellini. My accent is better than yours.” 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. “No, but I’m serious. What do I wear. I’m helpless, Joey. Helpless!”

What other people called 'annoying,' Joey called endlessly entertaining. That didn't mean he one-hundred-percent let Wade get away with everything; when he walked around attempting an Italian accent Joey made an effort to roll his eyes as much as he could and not laugh (he laughed a lot) and not play along (he tended to very interestedly respond with some other random Italian dish, as if they were having a real conversation). They had to get ready eventually, though, and Joey waited expectantly for Wade to go first since he himself only took around twenty seconds to be public-ready, even for dates. One time he forgot how to tie his tie and hid from Wade's view for a while, but that was the only time he'd surpassed ten minutes, and he ended up just wearing a button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows anyway. Joey was also smart enough not to try and shower when Wade was going to, 'cause the bathroom turned into an American Idol audition. Canadian Idol? Whatever the case, Wade took his entire damn life.

While he was doing God knows what in the water, Joey busied himself with getting into a white button-up, black blazer, and black jeans, lest Wade tease him for being too formal. He stopped in the living room a moment and questioned his reflection, wondering if perhaps he was getting too old, or if his hair was getting too long, whether his eyes were brown or green. Yes, yes, and probably hazel. Joey was for sure not satisfied with these answers and skewed his face to test the wrinkles gradually deepening before deciding it was best to just turn away, his fingers automatically pushing through his hair. He swore he could hear Wade exiting the shower at the same time and stopped to listen, holding his breath, before sighing uncontrollably. "Wade, are you ready?" The ensuing noises sounded like a kid that was woken up for school an hour ago and was now pretending like they'd been up the whole time. Joey struggled not to outright laugh at him, folding his arms in an effort to look stern and leaning to one side.

Wade came out in just his towel and seemed to stare for a few moments. Torn between impatience and adoration for just how ridiculous he was, Joey fixed his mouth in a line, struggling not to smile too dumbly at him. How are you ready? It’s only... Joey waited. Oh. Oh well. Hi. He opened his mouth, preparing to say something smart, but Wade stopped him with a hand coming to rest gently over the back of his neck, lips finding his. Joey swayed a little, embarrassingly enough. You look great, Bruno. Joey lost the rest of his composure. "You too. You know, you could conceivably wear that towel to the restaurant." Thought about what you’re having? I already know. Italian. Joey almost argued that they were going to the same place, of course he was getting Italian, too, then looked extremely annoyed. "Gonna need a big bottle of wine to deal with you, you know." But he was still stepping closer to Wade like the tiny distance was killing him.

You think we could just skip dinner and stay home? "Ye - oh," he mumbled, quickly trying to forget his near agreement when Wade was obviously joking. He met him in another kiss anyway, his fingers lacing easily through Wade's and his lips curling up without giving him a choice. He trusted Wade's lead to the bedroom, a smile apparently permanently plastered on his face. I don’t know what to wear. Would they mind if I just wore a towel? Is that normal in Italian culture? "Of course. What do you think I wore to my sister's wedding?" I’m fully immersed in it, by the way. Penne. Ravioli. Cannelloni. Tortellini. My accent is better than yours. Joey almost told him that that was probably true, considering he was barely halfway fluent in the language and still spoke it like an American anyway, but then he'd ruin his image. Instead he just pretended to be very incredulous. No, but I’m serious. What do I wear. I’m helpless, Joey. Helpless!

Joey looked affronted. "I just stopped being straight. I can't help you with fashion." He was headed to the closet anyway, pushing through hangers and studying all of Wade's wardrobe. After a few moments he stopped, pulling out a whole suit on one hanger, apparently missing a jacket. "A vest, oh my God, wear that. That's a Professor Walcott look." He held it up to Wade's chest, evidently trying to realize his vision.

Wade didn’t take so long to get ready because he was indecisive, or because he particularly cared about looking nice- he was just a more leisurely person, a procrastinator, who did things at his own, slow, impractical for other people pace. If he was less generally lazy, he’d probably take about as much time as Joey- twenty minutes to shower and get dressed and do his hair (Not that Wade did anything with his anyway)- but he wasn’t, and he wasn’t about to change his whole two-hour average routine (and that was on good days). They had to leave pretty soon and he had only just finished showering, very clean and very wet but also running very short on time. He didn’t have to look at a clock, or his phone; he just had to listen out for Joey’s inevitable, loud sigh, followed by Joey asking him whether he was ready, followed by Joey complaining that it always took him forever to get ready. He was fully prepared for this textbook interrogation until he actually saw Joey and then his smart-ass comments melted away. Wade, are you ready?

Very intelligently, Wade shook his head, and attempted to think of something clever to say before mentally shrugging and moving forwards to catch Joey in a kiss, suddenly very inclined to just stay home and reschedule dinner for another night. They could just have Mexican takeout- Wade’s go-to dinner anyway, and a lot less hassle than going out for Italian. Plus he could eat it in his underwear, and unfortunately doing that was frowned upon in public. He pulled back with an affectionate smile. You too. You know, you could conceivably wear that towel to the restaurant. If only. Wade wasn’t really listening, though, and he was busy thinking about how different this evening could go if they conveniently forgot all about their reservations and Joey was a more spontaneous person. It was fun to fantasise, but all he had at his disposal now was an obvious, ridiclous joke, that Joey didn’t catch on to until a few heartbeats afterwards.

Gonna need a big bottle of wine to deal with you, you know. ”Wow.” Wade pulled back, shaking his head and frowning with all seriousness he could muster. Unfortunately for Wade, joking like this was frequent, but at least he got used to it- he no longer took it as seriously, just retaliated with something else. ”While you drink that, I can grow a few tumours. Productivity.” He grinned, appreciating Joey moving a little closer and reaching out to hold onto both of his sides. Ye- oh. Rude. ”I was kidding, Joseph! I thought you liked Italian, anyway?” He tilted his head questioningly then cracked another smile as he leaned forwards for another kiss, lacing their fingers together as Joey smiled against his lips. Wade kissed his cheekbone and then drew back. "Kiss me like you miss me, Joey.” Not even a heartbeat later he leaned back in, kissing him as if making up for the whole hour or so they’d been apart (and it was Wade’s fault anyway for being oblivious to the rising state of the water bill).

Of course. What do you think I wore to my sister’s wedding? ”Damn, why wasn’t I there? Was it when you were-" He made the air-quote gesture with his hands- ”Straight?” He grinned, then launched into some fluent Italian (bad pronunciations of different shapes of pasta). ”No but seriously, which sister? I think I met a few in Ilvermorny days. Oh yeah, one of them definitely had a crush on me.” That was weird. Wade shook his head, then finally turned his attention to what was important- his wardrobe and what the hell he was going to wear. I just stopped being straight. I can’t help you with fashion. Yet, there he was, rooting through Wade’s wardrobe and trying to find something that made him look even a little bit more presentable.

”You know, maybe I should ask Bren.” He mused suddenly, taking the hanger from Joey and considering the ensemble. A vest, oh my God, wear that. That’s a Professor Walcott look. “Ugh, I’m not sixty. Anyway, yeah, I’m gonna call Brendon, like- ‘What should I wear if I want to sleep with your dad tonight?” Wade sounded dead serious, as he usually did when saying rather inappropriate things. He considered the clothes on the hanger in his hand. ”I guess it doesn’t really matter, they’ll be coming off anyway. Towel it is.”

So Joey was a sucker for tasteless jokes, but Wade started it with the Italian teasing. Which, P.S., was constant, not just for tonight. Joey wondered how he hadn't yet kicked Wade out permanently - though he'd probably just apparate right back. Wow. Joey half-smiled, clearly amused and knowing full well that Wade wasn't actually affected by all of that, so no remorse was owed. Plus, he always tended to come back with something of his own... While you drink that, I can grow a few tumours. Productivity. Joey rolled his eyes, but still sank closer when Wade held him by the sides, a tiny smirk on his face betraying his spiel of annoyance. "You know, collectively, we're kind of awful. Maybe we shouldn't be going out into public." A hint of laughter played on his voice and he tilted his chin up, trying to level with Wade.

I was kidding, Joseph! I thought you liked Italian, anyway? Joey probably wouldn't have forgiven him if a kiss didn't immediately follow that, then another sweetly placed on his cheekbone. Joey pursed his lips briefly, weighing his head to the side consideringly. "All right. You're funny, I guess." He laughed, pressing a chaste kiss against Wade's jawline since it was the most easily accessible, and almost made to escape from his grasp so they could leave already. Kiss me like you miss me, Joey. Joey stopped in his motion, smile dwindling because that was ridiculously charming, and Joey only weakly responded when Wade continued to kiss him. At first, anyway. He remembered the meaning behind Wade's words instead of just how winsome they sounded and tentatively curled his hand around the back of Wade's neck, trying to pull him down somewhat to deepen the kiss.

When they finally separated, Joey had apparently regained the energy to play along to all of Wade's dumb jokes like he usually did. Damn, why wasn’t I there? Was it when you were- Don't. Straight? Joey unceremoniously slapped Wade's air quotes aside while he tried communicating in his made-up Italian, his expression steely. "Zitto," he interrupted fluidly, the quickest 'shut up' he could muster. No but seriously, which sister? I think I met a few in Ilvermorny days. Oh yeah, one of them definitely had a crush on me. "Isabela? Yeah, you missed your chance. She's the one who got married, now you're stuck with me. Sucks to suck, Walcott." He was already turning away whilst speaking, already fully prepared to put together Wade's outfit and maybe sneakily put some of his wardrobe in order while he was at it. Wade wasn't, like, outright messy, but he definitely did not care to keep things from being messy. There was a very indistinct line between those two states of being, though.

You know, maybe I should ask Bren. Joey cracked up, thinking about Wade in leather pants and a leopard print blazer. Wait. Maybe he should call Brendon. Joey looked at him sort of seriously for a second, totally unintentional, then quickly turned as if his mind could be read. Ugh, I’m not sixty. Anyway, yeah, I’m gonna call Brendon, like- ‘What should I wear if I want to sleep with your dad tonight?' "WADE," he said quickly, nearly knocking a coat off its hook in his haste to turn around again. He looked entirely exasperated, but that was pretty typical around here. "Where's your phone? I need to confiscate it. He's traumatized enough without your help." Joey paused, then an eyebrow rose, coming to a belated realization. "You want to sleep with me tonight? Gross. I'm flattered."

Wade looked resigned to his clothing options. I guess it doesn’t really matter, they’ll be coming off anyway. Towel it is. "Ooh, interesting," he humoured him, twisting his voice teasingly. "I can't wait to get kicked out and you're charged for, like, indecent exposure. Hey, how about you wear something of mine? Clearly all you have is..." Joey examined a jersey with just a big red maple leaf logo on it, then sighed long-sufferingly instead of finishing his sentence. Shaking his head, he retrieved another suit of his own, holding it up to Wade and coming to the conclusion that their different heights was maybe something of an obstacle here. "So the sleeves will be a little short. Big deal! It's cute. Hey, wait, see if the jacket looks good with a towel." Because Joey thought he was hilarious, he'd partially given up on the search for something acceptable, handing over the jacket solely to amuse himself with how the ensemble might look.

Wade was, evidently, endlessly amused by the same things- often distasteful things at the expense of himself. Joey was the same (which was fortunate or unfortunate depending on how you looked at it), so they were always having weirdly lighthearted back-and-forths about heavy subjects, trying to one-up eachother with the most awful joke at their self-expense. There were limits, of course, where Wade was on the cusp of telling Joey that was probably enough, or Joey gave Wade a look with just enough conveyed annoyance that he stopped. The limit was pretty high, though, due to the mutual comfort they felt with eachother, and the fact that neither of them had been around for the worst part of their ‘personal tragedy’. They felt as much worry and responsibility for eachother anyhow- they were kind of ridiculous. It was like they had never grown apart (or rather, Joey had never cut him off), how close they were. You know, collectively, we’re kind of awful. Maybe we shouldn’t be going out into public. That was a valid point, and Wade looked nonchalant, shrugging his shoulders back and looking down as Joey tried to extend himself to as close as possible to Wade’s height. It was cute. Wade internally rolled his eyes at himself.

He told himself to stop being so ridiculous, then gave up and leaned down to kiss Joey anyway, surprisingly chastely considering his constant jokes and comments suggesting otherwise. All right. You’re funny, I guess. ”You guess?” Wade noticed Joey trying to break away and held him a little tighter in protest. ”I could be a fucking comedian.” He sounded so sure. Wade then made an effort to stop Joey in his tracks, and it seemed to work, because when he kissed him again, he didn’t complain, like he usually did when they were running late and Wade managed to make them even more late just by talking too much. Wade felt a hand curl around the back of his neck and lit up, complying when he was pulled closer. Why couldn’t they just stay home? He’d already made a joke regarding forgetting their plans, he didn’t want to backtrack and say he was serious now. Besides, he enjoyed their dates. Looking at the time, they’d probably be too late anyway. Maybe Wade could apparate them. That would be fun.

They finally pulled back, Wade now satisfied, but still enjoying making regular digs at Joey because his reaction was always funny no matter how many times he made the same joke. Zitto. Wade pulled a face, having heard Joey say that more times then he cared to count, still no closer to actually knowing what it meant. He was too proud to ask. ”Zitto to you too,” He replied defiantly, stepping back. Isabela? Yeah, you missed your chance. He thought back to meeting a few of Joey’s sisters, running through them all til he remembered which one he was talking about. He nodded in recognition. "Hardly.” She's the one who got married, now you're stuck with me. Sucks to suck, Walcott. Scoffing, he folded his arms. He remembered knowing that sister, and knowing that that sister liked him, but he didn’t remember ever feeling the same in return. ”I’d say you’re more stuck with me. And, hey, I just wanna say...” He stepped close for a second, looking serious and taking Joey’s hands. ”I’m glad I rejected your sister, that you didn’t contact me in years, and then I met you again and made you realise you’re not straight.” He made himself laugh. He let go of Joey’s hands, amused.

Anyway, there were more important things to discuss- namely what the hell Wade was going to wear, because as much as he would definitely go out in a towel, Joey probably wouldn’t let him. He watched as Joey looked through his clothes, and his mind wandered- to asking Brendon, mostly so he could make fun of his fashion sense (which ranged from snapbacks and tank tops that made him look like a straight fuckboy, in his opinion, to leopard print and leather). Joey probably wasn’t paying attention anyway- WADE. He cracked up, having to sit down and then lie back because Joey looked so alarmed. Still grinning, he sat up again. ”Your fucking face, oh my god,” Wade raised a hand almost in surrender, still laughing between breaths. Where’s your phone? I need to confiscate it. He’s traumatised enough without your help.

”Hey Siri,” He exclaimed suddenly, ”Send ‘Joey’s bastard son’ a message saying...” Wade started laughing again, unable to finish, and lay back onto the bed again in defeat. He managed to calm down, though, and got to his feet, holding the towel carefully where he felt it was at risk of slipping. You want to sleep with me tonight? Gross. I’m flattered. ”Get your mind out of the gutter,” He retorted, sounding mock-affronted. ”My intentions are completely innocent. By ‘sleep with you’, I mean have a nice 8 hours, asleep. Obviously.” He raised an eyebrow, as if to say yeah, everything I just said is bullshit.

Ooh, Interesting. I can’t wait to get kicked out and you’re charged for, like, indecent exposure. Hey, how about you wear something of mine? Clearly all you have is... Wade tuned out when Joey started talking about clothing again, instead responding to the first comment. ”Never a dull day, you know that, babe.” He smiled and stood obediently still when Joey finally took something out and held it out in front of him. So the sleeves will be a little short. Big deal! It’s cute. Hey, wait, see if the jacket looks good with a towel. Wade took it from the hanger and let go of his towel, which thankfully remained in place, then shrugged it on. ”Vogue.”

You guess? Joey outright frowned at him when his attempts to get away were thwarted. He was dating the most antagonistic person on Earth, probably, except Wade could easily say the same for him, if he wanted. Either way Joey still liked him, annoyingly so. I could be a fucking comedian. "Okay, leave me alone," Joey drawled, exasperated, looking one-hundred percent sick of him until they were kissing again. So, very routine. Routine enough, actually, that they missed pretty much half the dates they weren't just very late for; it was almost pitiful. Thus, Joey was in more haste than usual, putting on a frustrated face in the hopes that it'd motivate Wade, but apparently that was an ineffective approach. He was still determined to break their impunctual streak, though, so Joey kept experimenting with ways to finally get them geared up to leave the apartment.

The Italian jokes always oddly backfired on Wade without him knowing. He could fake the language as much as he wanted, but with his actual half-fluency, Joey was able to make fun of Wade to his ignorance. Zitto to you too. Joey grinned, sort of cracking up behind his smile, but really if he humoured Wade's newfound comedian career path then they'd never get out of here - Joey ignored his easy amusement, moving on to the much more boring topic of his sisters. Hardly. I’d say you’re more stuck with me. Joey made a pained face and nodded, deeply in agreement. And, hey, I just wanna say... Joey nearly tugged his hands back from Wade's defiantly but ended up just looking somewhat apprehensively up at his newly serious face, unsure whether he really wanted to hear (presumably) Wade's opinion on poor Isabela.

I'm glad I rejected your sister- Rejected her? Wait. Joey hadn't gotten the full story on that. He opened his mouth to interrogate Wade on whether he'd disrespected his sister or not, but couldn't get a word in edgewise anyway. -that you didn’t contact me in years- "Um," Joey cut in argumentatively, leaning away from Wade somewhat to look at him like he was crazy. That was totally in the past. Not fair. He might be correct in calling out Joey on his ghosting habits, but hey. No relevance, and now this was a courtroom session, apparently. -and then I met you again and made you realise you’re not straight. "First of all, how dare you. Second of all, I'm realising I am straight after all right now. It was nice experimenting, buuut..." Joey sucked his teeth as if to say that's too bad and actually did take his hands back, shrugging remorsefully.

No matter what he said, he couldn't deter Wade from messing with him, though, so Joey had to endure the pure slander of his 'son.' Well. Maybe it wasn't slander if shit wasn't actively being talked, but anything Wade did that potentially could have a negative effect on Brendon magically became that in Joey's mind. He scolded Wade for it only to be received with laughter so extreme that Wade had to sit down. Joey gaped at him, throwing a hand out towards him in disbelief. Your fucking face, oh my god. "Jesus, who raised you? You know how in, like, 2013, everyone said JB was the shame of Canada? That's actually you. Die." He threw a random shirt at Wade, ignoring his surrendering hand. Clearly he wasn't actually bothered anyway, because Joey grinned at him the whole way through, enamoured even when they were both being endlessly annoying.

He was desperate in his efforts to stop the Brendon abuse, though, to no avail. Hey Siri. Send ‘Joey’s bastard son’ a message saying... Joey watched him dissolve into laughter again, dropping his arms at his sides defeatedly. "Is that really his name in your phone? Siri, is that really his name in you? Wow." Deciding he was really losing sight of his initial goal to leave as soon as possible, Joey occupied himself while Wade settled down, turning in to face the wardrobe mirror and readjust his disheveled tie. Only minutes with this man and he already looked like he'd been doing jumping jacks in his suit, everything was so skewed. Honestly. Get your mind out of the gutter. My intentions are completely innocent. Joey eyed Wade from the corner of his vision, muttering a thoughtful and slightly judgmental 'hm' while he pushed his hair back into place. By ‘sleep with you’, I mean have a nice 8 hours, asleep. Obviously. "Hm, okay, well, that's not what I'm referring to. Are we, como se dice, bisecting the triangle? Doing the Devil's dance? Going to the grocery store? Honestly, Wade. I need to prepare." Somehow, he managed to keep a straight face, staring somewhat blankly at his own reflection while he spoke in search of imperfections.

Never a dull day, you know that, babe. Joey looked at him again, finally, bewildered. "What? How often - you know what, that's none of my bus-iness," he sang, clearly exemplifying his need to spend less time with his influential 'son,' and handed over his only 2% serious suggestion. Realizing Wade had taken the hanger with formerly occupied hands he looked down expectantly, raising his eyebrow as Wade's towel successfully remained tucked over his hips. Vogue. He looked up to examine the fit, kind of laughing while he tugged the fabric down, smoothed his hand over it to get rid of imaginary wrinkles. "You know, four inches' difference really becomes extra obvious when you trade clothes. You look like one of those guys in school who has a mysterious growth spurt in a day and suddenly nothing fits anymore." To amuse himself further Joey tried to pull it closed and button it, which worked and therefore wasn't as fun. He sighed sadly, suddenly very weight-conscious. "Well. I support it. You can put your maple syrup jersey under it and be even more high fashion." Joey waved a hand dismissively, faux-apologetic. "Sorry, I meant, uh, the Canadian hockey jersey."

Okay, leave me alone. Wade smiled affectionately. If he had, like, a dollar for everytime Joey told him to go away or get lost or leave me alone, he’d probably have enough money to buy himself some new clothes that actually fit and didn’t look like the closet of a ridiculously patriotic Canadian that pretended to care more about hockey than they did so they could wear a Canadian flag sweater without getting funny looks from Canadians and non-Canadians alike. Well. That wasn’t far off, anyway- so he didn’t voice any of this aloud, aware Joey would immediately call him out for it. Luckily, he didn’t even get chance to slip up and say it anyway, because predictably, they were kissing, Wade hindered by a rush of affection as he moved a hand to curl his fingers almost tightly into Joey’s hair. He pulled back reluctantly, grinning and looking down at him, seriously considering just cancelling the reservation because they couldn’t do this over dinner without getting strange looks. He could tell joey was intent on getting there, which was cute, but probably more for the sake of clearing a laughable record than actually caring terribly about the date and dinner itself. They could have just as much fun at home, watching a movie, really, but it was tradition now to be tragically late for dates at actual places.

When Wade became faux-serious, he noticed Joey’s exasperation and suspicion, and when he moved quickly past the subject of Joey’s sister, he also noticed the presence of sudden questions that crossed Joey’s mind, evident in his expression. He halted for a second to give a watered-down explanation to save himself interrogation. ”She asked me out. I said no.” He moved swiftly onwards, to call out joey for his less than admirable ghosting habits, which earned him a feeble protest. Wade moved a hand to jokingly cover his mouth for half a beat, then he smiled and dropped it so he was holding Joey’s hands again. First of all, how dare you. Second of all, I'm realising I am straight after all right now. It was nice experimenting, buuut... Affronted, Wade dropped Joey’s hands and folded his arms. ”Just ‘nice’? Nice?” Wade, in a way that was so typical of him, shook his head and put on a show of being mournful, but also arrogant. ”I think I speak for both of us when I say... Our ‘experimenting’ has been much better than any other-“ He searched for a word that wouldn’t make Joey hit him. ”Antics? That’s a dumb fucking word but you’re like, weirdly pg-13 sometimes.”

Wade shrugged his shoulders. ”If you’re straight, I’m italian.” He said matter-of-factly, then suddenly his next target was Joey’s melodramatic son, and Joey apparently didn’t appreciate the joke that had Wade reeling. Jesus, who raised you? You know how in, like, 2013, everyone said JB was the shame of Canada? That's actually you. Die. That was low, even for Joey. ”Vaffanculo, Joseph. Bieber wishes he were me.” Yes, Wade had picked up a little Italian from Joey’s relatively frequent usage- but only the curse words. He caught the shirt that was hurled at him and squinted at Joey, sitting up once he had caught his breath. Apparently not done, he tried calling in vain once more to annoy Joey, and easily succeeded. Is that really his name in your phone? Siri, is that really his name in you? Wow. ”Sure is. Wake me up when you’ve disowned him, yeah?”

Wade watched as Joey turned around to fix his tie and straighten out his dishevelled appearance, standing up and wandering over to wrap his arms around his waist for just a second so he could land a few kisses, starting at his neck, then his jaw, then his cheekbone in quick succession. Stepping back before Joey could complain, he idly examined his wardrobe from over the other man’s shoulder. Hm, okay, well, that’s not what I’m referring to. Wade immediately grinned. Are we, como se dice, bisecting the triangle? ”No, but I’m sure you’d fucking love that.” Doing the devil’s dance? Going to the grocery store? Honestly, Wade. I need to prepare. At the last comment, Wade practically spluttered, but then started laughing, rolling one shoulder back in an undecided shrug. "Guess we’ll find out. You call the shots.”

What? How often- you know what,that’s none of my bus-unless. Wade looked genuinely disgusted, staring at Joey for a few silent seconds before holding his hands up and forming a cross with his fingers and holding it in Joey’s direction. ”Begone, you fucking demon.” He shook his head and didn’t elaborate (hoping Joseph got the picture), instead just took the hanger and the jacket and obediently put it on. He easily caught that glance down, and raised a questioning eyebrow. ”My eyes are up here, you know. But also I will take it off if you want me too.” The trouble with Wade was that... It was impossible to tell if he was serious. Be it his manner or his tone, he always sounded dead serious, but- he couldn’t be, right? Not some things. Nobody actually knew, apart from maybe Joey, who questioned him further on the odd occasion. You know, four inches' difference really becomes extra obvious when you trade clothes. You look like one of those guys in school who has a mysterious growth spurt in a day and suddenly nothing fits anymore. ”I stopped listening at ‘four inches difference’ because I was worried.”

Wade stood still as Joey buttoned it up. Well. I support it. You can put your maple syrup jersey under it and be even more high fashion. How insensitive. Wade narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to retaliate, but Joey was a step ahead of him. Sorry, I meant, uh, the Canadian hockey jersey. "Sure as hell you fuckin’ did.”

She asked me out. I said no. Despite this presumably being Wade's low effort approach at ridding Joey of his worry, Joey continued to stare at him, barely subdued. "I thought her standards were much higher. You really missed an opportunity there." Wade didn't seem very intent on dwelling on that subject though, so Joey just rolled his shoulders resignedly and moved on with him, shifting his weight to one side so he could look even more impatiently at Wade. Not so easy to look like he didn't actually like Wade when their hands were joined like this, though, and he wasn't really intent on pulling away even though that was sort of a talent of his. Just ‘nice’? Nice? Joey rolled his eyes as exaggeratedly as possible while Wade turned all sad and grievous, his previously grateful hold on Wade's hands turning loose and just hanging from his grip. I think I speak for both of us when I say... Our ‘experimenting’ has been much better than any other- antics? That’s a dumb fucking word but you’re like, weirdly pg-13 sometimes. "I'm a Capricorn," Joey said matter-of-factly, as if it was by any means an explanation for his PG-13 rating. If anything, Wade being a Scorpio was the sole explanation here.

If you’re straight, I’m Italian. "No, fuck off, that's my thing. Get your own." He steeled himself for more Canadian stereotypes flooding from Wade's mouth - but they didn't come. He might've preferred that over the subsequent attack on Brendon, though. Vaffanculo, Joseph. Bieber wishes he were me. Joey stared at him in semi-shock, in disbelief that he'd dangle his own powers over his head. He searched for some kind of Northern slang or a French-Canadian comeback, but nothing came. His last resort was to chuck a shirt at Wade for him to peruse and speed up this whole 'getting ready' process, which didn't seem to help matters. Sure is. Wake me up when you’ve disowned him, yeah? Joey huffed loudly, already sick of this conversation thanks to his evident over-sensitivity to any jokes made at Brendon's expense. Well, not really. He was probably keeping up the charade just to maintain his own fatherly pride - which was less pride in Brendon and more pride in himself for being someone's imagined father figure. Sad, but true.

Joey aggressively wriggled a little when he was vainly turned towards the mirror and Wade welcomed himself to wrapping his arms around Joey, trying to make it clear that his affection wasn't welcome right now, but that was even hard to convince himself of. He gave in and leaned towards Wade when he landed a few kisses along his neck and trailed up higher, succumbing to what might've easily been a tactic to calm him down anyway (not that Joey really needed containing- their petty arguments like this were usually for show, truthfully, to make either or both of them laugh). He swayed a little when Wade stepped away, like his source of balance had been disrupted, and looked strangely back-to-normal once they were separated, hands still moving over his collar carefully. No, but I’m sure you’d fucking love that. Joey thought he'd lost the comedic showdown, but then Wade started laughing, and he let a tiny smirk escape him whilst he looked over his own shoulder in the mirror. Guess we’ll find out. You call the shots. "All right, well, we need to actually get to the date first."

Begone, you fucking demon. Joey shrugged carelessly. So he was a Gen-Z at heart, fuck him. My eyes are up here, you know. But also I will take it off if you want me too. Wade was impossible to read in that specific moment. Joey squinted at him, uncertain, and there was a moment of silence where he couldn't deduce any seriousness or lightheartedness. He decided the former was probably the truth of the matter, but pretending that Wade was joking was much easier to live with... until that implied Wade might actually take his silence as an affirmative. "No, I insist. Keep yourself covered, bud." He pat Wade on the shoulder, all platonic love, like they were still high school pals. I stopped listening at ‘four inches difference’ because I was worried. Joey cracked up a little, totally not meaning to because laughing meant that Wade had got to him, but unfortunately it was too funny to ignore. "I mean... you should be. I'm packing." Joey thought he was hilarious. Then he remembered his 'PG-13' promise from earlier. "Still a Capricorn, though, so you aren't allowed any further comment on that." Joey mirrored Wade's hand cross from moments earlier, only for a second before he was too lazy to keep his hands in the air and they dropped back to his sides.

He got Wade's shirt buttoned up successfully with little to no struggle, and stood back to admire his handiwork. Sure as hell you fuckin’ did. He decided not to grace that with a response, because he was so super nice, and all. "A'ight, usually I don't ask this, but will you put some fucking pants on?" He also didn't usually swear, but that was becoming a far more frequent occurrence in conversation as of late. While Joey wasn't by any means frustrated, he was certainly antsy about them actually missing a reservation rather than being comically late as was the norm. "I'll even accept jeans. Or cargo shorts. Whatever it takes. Your legs will be under the table, anyway. Hopefully." Who knew. He'd chosen a, uh, character for a boyfriend.

/

I thought her standards were much higher. Wade was obviously about to argue. In fact, he had formulated an entire argument in a second flat, covering things Joey would be mad at him for like ‘Isabela looked like shit compared to you’, and things Joey would be exasperated by, like ‘What do you mean, I was even fucking sexier back then’. Which wasn’t even strictly true. If anything, Wade at the age he was looked the best he ever had. Maybe. He’s ask Joey to confirm or deny that for him, but he was biased. Besides, he thought the same about Joey, of course, but then he saw Joseph as literally the most handsome man alive despite never admitting it unless through some kind of sarcastic medium. For a moment, regardless, he entertained the idea of ending up with Joey’s sister instead. It wasn’t as funny as he thought it would be- just very unsettling when he imagined Joey as his brother in law.

You really missed an opportunity there. “Don’t sound too disappointed for her. If I hadn’t have turned her down, she’d be Mrs Isabela Walcott, and you would probably currently be having very unfulfilling sex with whatever girlfriend you’d have. You’re welcome for making sure that isn’t the case!” Wade was grinning. He was anticipating some kind of rebuttal of his confidence there.
Of course, such talk was unappreciated by Joey- who still behaved like a professor around students and scolded Wade when he strayed too far out of PG territory, ignoring the fact that they were two grown men in a committed relationship. He was growing out of this habit, though, steadily, cursing more and unwinding himself gradually, but hadn’t quite unlearned censorship from his teaching days. He didn’t seem to think it was down to that, though; I’m a Capricorn. ”And I’m a Libra. Or am I a Scorpio? Which makes more sense, anyway? Scorpio? I mean- Be honest, Joseph, am I a whore?” He stood before him, eyes wide, arms folded as if waiting for judgement.

No, fuck off, that’s my thing. Wade raised his eyebrows and said in a matter-of-fact, jovial tone: ”Well, Joey, I’m glad you have the bravery to admit that you have a problem.” A pause. ”It’s not even alcohol. It’s thinking that being Italian is a personality trait.” He didn’t even laugh, didn’t have to; they were just at this point now. And Wade new that he’d find it funny. Get your own. ”I have a thing! It’s hating Brandon, or whatever his name is.” Upon intentionally butchering Joey’s surrogate son’s name, his voice increased in pitch, as it often did when he was messing around- which was literally fucking always. It was funny, because Joey could take literally everything on the chin, even actively insulted Wade, giving as good as he got, but when Wade made digs at Brendon, he sulked, because apparently the sun shone out of that kid’s ass.

Probably some kind of bonding-over-a-serious-shared-problem thing, Wade mused- but all of this, even in his head, was in jest. He loved Brendon- just because Joey did, and he’d do anything for that man. Wade screwed up his face. Ew. He tried to steer himself away from that soppiness but then he was turning Joey towards the mirror, manoeuvring him with relative ease because he was taller and a little stronger, and wrapping his arms around his waist, holding on tight enough to be irritating and crowding into his space by kissing his neck, barely, because he was grinning throughout. Then he let go, because they were already running late. As much as Wade would love to just spend the evening rummaging through their wardrobes and dressing up in whatever ridiculous shit they could find.

All right, well, we need to actually get to the date first. Wade stepped back, arms folded across his chest, staring down Joey like this was some homoerotic western. He grinned at his own joke. Yet again. ”I’m not the one stopping us from heading out, Bruno. I’m dressed. I’m ready. Look at me, I’m a god. Carved from marble-“ He spread his arms out by his sides, presenting himself proudly to his boyfriend, who- wasn’t even looking where he was indicating. Instead, he was looking somewhere else. He cleared his throat at the same time as saying, ”Pervert.” After a moment of silence, Joey reverted to damage control. No, I insist. Keep yourself covered, bud. ”Oh, you insist, do you? Fine. I’ll remained covered for the rest of our relationship.”

Then Joey was laughing at Wade’s dick joke. I mean... You should be. I’m packing. Wade kept a straight face successfully, all serious and concerned, eyes wide. ”Or maybe I just have a big mouth.” He’d definitely get some kind of furious protest there, prude that his beloved Joseph was- who immediately brought up being a Capricorn again, which Wade rolled his eyes at, watching Joey with a smile regardless as he buttoned the shirt he’d made Wade wear. He then stood back and Wade ran a hand through his own hair, turning towards the mirror and raising his eyebrows. ”Well, fuck. How does it feel to be with the most attractive Canadian- man- alive?” A'ight, usually I don't ask this, but will you put some fucking pants on? Oh, Joseph, at least you’re honest, Wade thought, but mercifully didn’t respond, just smirked at him as he kept rambling on about Wade wearing pants. In any case, he smoothed down the shirt Joey had given him and then reached into the wardrobe and pulled out the first pair of ironed trousers he could find, examining them for a second before shrugging and carrying them over to the bed, sitting down and then looking up at Joey as he finally lost his towel toga and actually put on some underwear. ”Don’t look at me, I’m shy.”