So maybe Brendon hadn’t been dreaming of this since he was fourteen, but still, he had been looking forward to interviewing the recently drafted Ryan Rowe, a right winger (now for the Blackhawks)- he’d naturally been paying attention to what was going on and he knew that Ryan was everyone’s darling right now, top of his game, bound to only get better and more well known after this ‘big break’ of his career, so to speak. Even though he’d already been following him relatively closely, since he’d been informed that he was going to be taking the wheel of an interview with Ryan, he’d done a substantial amount more of research into his background, his play style, his personal records, statistics, everything. Brendon, though seemingly easily distracted and quick to lose focus when something was arduous and boring, was nothing if not dedicated to his job and he wanted to know everything that was public knowledge about Ryan before he got to sit in front of him and find out things that maybe nobody knew yet. He’d even followed Ryan on twitter and Instagram. Even throughout all this research, though, he hadn’t noticed until Ryan had walked in just how goddamn [i]handsome[/i] he was, honey eyes and almost windswept-looking chestnut hair. Tall, and built well, too- naturally.

Unfortunately, Brendon wasn’t the only one in the room; a whole crew was with them and it was lucky that Brendon was such a welcoming and charismatic interviewer because Ryan was like a fucking clam, much more reclusive and shy than he had expected- Brendon had watched videos of brief interviews directly after games, Ryan standing there, chest heaving, still in full gear and sweating like hell, and even then when he was clearly fucking [i]beat[/i] he had an air of confidence- maybe bordering on arrogance, but he never seemed obnoxious. Besides, it seemed to Brendon that he was good enough at what he did (first in the national draft, for God’s sake) to be allowed to be arrogant about it. Sitting in front of him and the crew, though, Brendon was surprised by how different he seemed from any other time he’d been at a game watching him play or studying any other content online. In the place of a cocky, almost devilish player that he’d expected was a low-voiced, almost nervous man of few words. Even so, Brendon thought he was charming and attractive and when he linked this more intimate picture of Ryan back to how he was out during a game, it was both baffling and extremely intruiging. And not. But it would be, y’know, unprofessional to mention that in an interview- and though it wasn’t easy to believe, Brendon was better at holding his tongue than ever nowadays. 

If he had a dollar for every time he’d found an interviewee cute or vice versa, he’d be rich, but if he had a dollar for every time said interviewee asked him out to dinner, he wouldn’t even be able to afford that dinner. It had been a successful interview and they’d wrapped up, shook hands, the crew started filing out to review and cut down the footage, or something. Brendon was busying about with his notes and whatnot and collecting his coat and Ryan hung around, so Brendon paused, and looked up (yes, up, he was 5’6, this guy had five or six inches on him) expectantly. Ryan had then made that interview particularly memorable by anxiously and admittedly adorably asking him on a [i]date.[/i] And yes, it was a date, Brendon had to clarify that, because he had seemed way too flustered to even be interested and Brendon was too absorbed in the interview to notice any flirting if he had even tried. Gut instinct told him to say no, but. Why not? When he looked at him without reservations, now, he really was stunning. Rather tragically, Brendon felt goddamn butterflies at the gentleness of the proposal. So he said yes, they exchanged numbers, and organised a date and time.

Brendon was organised, usually. But he spent a long time standing staring at himself in the mirror trying to figure out what the hell to wear. What if he’d misread the whole thing, and this was just a friendly meal? He jumped between two outfits, red pants and a simple black t-shirt or a printed button-up and black jeans. He settled on the former and sorted out his hair and by the time he had finished trying to tame one wild strand, he glanced at his phone and he was already kind of supposed to be at the restaurant. Great. Luckily, Brendon was used to getting to places fast so he only ended up being under ten minutes later, texting Ryan a light-hearted apology. In response, Ryan said ‘see you soon’ and gave him a rough idea of his location within the restaurant. For the first time when he walked through the doors, he was nervous- he was excited, sure, but hadn’t been anticipating nerves playing up. But again, he was just that pretty. As the door swung shut behind him, he spotted Ryan and smiled immediately as he stood and made his way over. There was a beat before they greeted eachother where they mutually debated handshake v hug- hug it was, this wasn’t a business meeting. He didn’t think. Either way- he smelled fucking good, Brendon lingered a little before pulling back, still smiling.

[i]Hey! Hi. I, uh, I didn’t have anything nice to wear. So.[/i] Brendon hadn’t paid any attention to what he had been wearing, honestly, too lost in his illegally pretty eyes. When he looked down, though, gave him a once-over- [b]”What are you talking about? You look great. Real classy. You’d almost not expect you to be a hockey player, but- the scar.”[/b] On his bottom lip. Not too classy. All in good fun. Brendon followed as Ryan guided them back to the table, where he spotted a glass of red wine that was pretty much almost empty. Brendon was only disappointed that Ryan hadn’t ordered him one. [i]Anyway, it’s good to see you again- please.[/i] What a gentleman, Brendon thought, smiling at him as he pulled his chair out for him, taking a seat when Ryan gestured to do so. [b]”Thank you. You too.”[/b] [i]How are you? Did I end up sounding good in the interview? I may have been a little nervous.[/i] Adopting a reassuring smile quickly, Brendon leaned forward in his chair and shrugged a litttle. [b]”Just a little, but you sounded great. Everyone loves you, now, y’know? You could do no wrong.”[/b] It was true, even rival teams begrudgingly admitted he was an excellent player. [b]”And, I’m great. How are you doing, Ryan?”[/b]