#i dont have any patience but also no sense of punctuality | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jemej3m · 4 years

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a really bad (good) blind date

OKAY - there will be other parts to this i promise

Andrew was exhausted.

There were many reasons for that fact: he was halfway through his final year of the police academy, his brother had been broken up with (again) and had moved back in to live with Andrew (again) and Nicky had set him up for an evening out with a man he didn’t know (again).

It was the last time Andrew would put up with these sordid blind date fiascos. Nicky insisted that he didn’t want Andrew to be lonely around the holiday season, and that it’d be perfect timing to have a significant other on Valentine’s Day, and had been extremely resistant to Andrew’s refusals.

This one would be the last. He’d get a good night’s rest over the winter break, ignore Nicky’s pestering and continue on with life as normal when the half-yearly examinations finally ended.

He hadn’t even bothered changing out of the jeans and sweater he’d been ambling around the house in all morning, merely shaving and spritzing on cologne to give a false sense that he’d put effort in.

He wish Nicky had let them meet up in a club. It was much easier to preface a one-night-stand with little talking, dancing and a glass of whisky. He usually wouldn’t even bother taking them home, seeing as he knew the staff access code to the lounge at Eden’s Twilight.

Instead, he shuffled in through the doors of a restaurant, where the lights were just low enough that hopefully this guy wouldn’t see the shadows under his eyes, the sallowness of his skin. Maybe Andrew should just be his usual, sullen self, end the date early and go home and sleep.

The thought of dealing with Nicky’s blatant look of disappointment when he inevitably heard of Andrew’s less than amicable behaviour was worse than the idea of talking to a cute guy (Nicky’s taste wasn’t bad). A worser fate than death would be Betsy’s eventual involvement, if Nicky thought Andrew wasn’t being social enough. His first-therapist-adoptive-mother-saviour-figure had a monopoly on Andrew’s tolerance of others, whether he liked it or not.

He took a table, not seeing anyone with the alleged red hair, blue eyes or leather satchel - Nicky said he never went anywhere without it. That had been odd enough to pique Andrew’s curiosity, but not really in a good way.

He took his place at the table and busied himself with a menu, even though he’d already elected what he’d eat prior to arriving. The few moments to himself allowed him to centre himself, readying for whatever bullshit his cousin had signed him up for this time.

He supposed that no amount of time would have allowed him to anticipate what he was dealt, as the man who he was to have dinner with collapsed into the chair opposite. His hair was wild, auburn curls and a freshly buzzed undercut matching expressive brows and awfully long lashes - of which framed the clearest blues Andrew had ever seen. His freckles were like constellations across his cheeks.

“Sorry I’m late,” he managed, swinging the leather satchel across the back of the chair. His buttons were askew but he hadn’t seemed to notice. It allowed Andrew to see the flush that ran down his neck and the hint of a puckered scar on his collarbone.

A gunshot wound.

Interesting, he thought.

“Should we order?” the man asked.

“I’m Andrew,” he said, pointedly.

“Oh, right,” he ducked his head with a grimace. “I’m - Neil.”

Andrew shrugged. “You can have a few minutes, if you’d like.”

Neil didn’t need time. He must have come prepared, as Andrew had. He took note of a few things as they ordered - he was health-conscious, only having a salmon dish and salad - he didn’t drink, not even the lightest champagne the place had to offer - and that he had the most elegant fingers. For some strange reason, Andrew could envision him spinning Andrew’s knives deftly.

“So,” Neil started, awkward. “What do normal people talk about on dates?”

Andrew arched an eyebrow.

Neil cleared his throat. “That wasn’t a testament of you being - abnormal - I’ve just never done something like this before, a friend put me up to it - I mean, I’m sure you’re interesting -”

“It’s alright,” Andrew cut in, because Neil was truly digging himself a sufficient grave. “You should tell me three things you’ve never told anyone.”

Neil blinked. “Why?”

Andrew shrugged. “Why not? I’ll give you one: I’m afraid of heights.”

“Cockroaches,” Neil echoed, cocking his head to the side. “You’ve never told anyone you’re afraid of heights?”

“What use does that information have?”

“Why can I have it, then?”

Andrew wanted to hear more of this petulant, argumentative tone that Neil had gradually developed. “Must everything have a reason?”

“Of course not,” Neil tapped a lithe finger on the rim of his glass. “But most things - or people - do. That’s what they tell themselves, at least.”

“Profound,” Andrew acknowledged, tipping their glasses together.

Neil wasn’t uninteresting. There was something underneath those ocean eyes.

Neil liked maths - he’d gone out of state to study for a few years, in Virginia - and cats and took the strawberry from Andrew’s dessert because he hated sweets but would eat fruit any day. He’d also clipped the lip of a waiter who’d expressed irritation that they asked for a split bill, finding the other waiter who’d served them to give the nicer girl a fiver tip.

It was an odd balance, Andrew observed, between real facets of ‘Neil’ escaping and a formulated restraint, clearly years in the making. Andrew couldn’t believe how late it’d gotten by the time they’d left. Even the way Neil smoked was baffling, holding the light by his chin and looking out into the dimly lit street that stretched out before them.

“How’d you get roped into this, anyway?” Neil inquired.

Andrew shrugged. “My cousin likes to mess with my life. How does Nicky know your friend, anyway?”

“I think they might’ve had an economics class together in college, and decided they shared a passion for exuberance and high-heels,” Neil chuckled, taking a slow drag. “Allison always said Nicky Nights were the most fun she’d ever had.”

“Allison,” Andrew considered. He wasn’t really familiar with the name.

“I should probably be heading off,” Neil said, idly checking a watch. He wore a watch. It didn’t look cheap, either. “Have to deal with - family mess.” The way he said family mess had Andrew practically in stitches with intrigue. There was simply nothing simple about Neil, nothing Andrew could put together without time and patience. He simply nodded, watching cars drive past as Neil leant off the wall.

He’d already written his number on the receipt: fingers hooked into Neil’s sleeve, he spun the young man around, just before he could waltz off to his nice car and drive on home.

“Here,” he said offhandedly, ignoring the way his heart skipped and leaped.

Neil took the number slowly, tucking it into his pocket.

“I’m going to be a bit touch-and-go for a little while,” he said. “Family’s back in town and all. But I’ll text you,” he rolled his lips into his mouth as his cheeks went red. “I will text you.”

Andrew waved him off. “I don’t care what you do.”

Neil’s lips twitched into a small smile. “Okay. I’ll see you later, Andrew.”

Andrew watched as Neil walked away, arriving at a sleek black car that ought to be keyed in a city like Baltimore. Before he set off, he leaned into the passenger seat, rummaging for something.

Just as Andrew was thinking I didn’t even get his last name, he noticed an odd glinting of something from within Neil’s car. Something reflecting the streetlight, almost into his eyes.

In the compartment of the door was a knife-handle, a cleaver blade attached. It was so carelessly thrown into the door shelf that it seemed to (still?) have a few mild specks of something red across its spine.

Andrew let his cigarette fall to the ground, shoving his hands into his pockets as Neil glanced over his shoulder to give Andrew another one of his little smiles, something Andrew wanted to hold and cherish in spite of the probable weapon left in the passenger seat’s door. As the car skidded away, Andrew remained utterly still, the amalgamation of emotions swirling within his usually void-like chest cavity.

how was the date???????????? Nicky texted.

bad, Andrew responded. Because - in spite of everything, the awkwardness, the lack of punctuality, the gunshot scar, the probably bloodied knife in his car - Andrew wanted to see him again. In spite of everything, it had been a good evening.

oh well! Nicky sent back, with a cheerful smiley face and a bunch of needless xoxo’s. Andrew’s phone buzzed twice as another text came through - this time from an unknown number.

hi this is neil’s number - figured i would text at the traffic light before i lost this receipt :D

Fuck it, Andrew thought.

hi neil. this is andrew.

tadaaaa

blind date!! also, neil, dont leave bloody cleavers in the passenger seat door, you dumbass

#andreil #mobster/cop au #cop!andrew #butcher!neil #first meeting #andrew minyard #neil josten #aftg #all for the game #yeehaw i love this but its so stupid lol #jem writes

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