Angus was on his best behaviour. He had arrived slightly early instead of fashionably late and he had dressed in a manner that he knew would not be too ostentatious for Dawin's taste. His cufflinks were small and silver, his coat was black and plain, though well-tailored. Even his clothing was modeled on more classic designs than Angus usually had time for.

He wondered why he wasn't more nervous. He didn't usually date younger men, let alone ones who were as skittish as Dawin seemed to be, now that he knew that Angus was interested in him. Angus knew that there was the potential for this dinner to go very badly.

He just wasn't a very good pessimist. He wholeheartedly believed that if he just walked into it with confidence, dinner would go well. Angus believed in the power of positive thinking. Admittedly, he'd also believed in a magical lady who collected his teeth and gave him a coin for them until he was nine.

He knew Dawin didn't have as much experience with courtship as Angus did, so he had a list of things not to do so as not to embarass him. Number one was too many displays of affection. Number two was gifts, unless they looked like he had just found them in passing. Number three, the one that gave him most difficulty, was touching him, unless he knew it was coming and no one was watching. That was usually on the list of things to do, and to do quite a lot but Angus' intuition indicated this might possibly, maybe, be a bit of a bad idea.

Still, the night air was cool and the rain had softened to a shower. All would be well, at least he thought it would be.

Dawin was an excellent pessimist. Perhaps this was due to his lack of success in past social situations, due to his upbringing, due to his terror that he was more like his father than he knew. This last bit was, perhaps, not an unreasonable fear, but worrying about it certainly didn't help.

He wished, the day before, that he had more friends. In particular, friends who knew about fashion, and who'd been on enough dates to know what was expected of them. He'd investigated the library, a handful of etiquette books, but very few of them addressed what a man was supposed to do on a date with another man. Maybe men didn't worry about this stuff so much. Maybe, again, he was just the odd one out.

In any case, he was late. Under-estimated how long it would take him to get ready, in his best [somewhat worn] clothing, the clothing he wore on special holidays like the Cartographer's Convention, or to fancy dinners with his mother's friends, and the much-nicer coat that Angus had bought him. He looked flushed, bright-eyes, breathless and nervous, hands buried deep into his pockets, and a bag over his shoulder.

He'd brought David with him. Just in case.

(( My apologies for how late this is, it's been a bit hectic. ))

Hearts skip their beats all the time. Most often this is due to a scare or an unpleasant surprise, wondering if you locked your keys inside your room or almost falling down the stairs. Having a professor walk in on you while your hand is up a shirt that doesn't belong you, touching skin that isn't yours while you wonder, was it worth it?

And sometimes the answer is a simple, "no, it bloody wasn't."

It was good that Angus' heart did not skip a beat. That essential muscle simply kept on beating, only a little faster. Perhaps its rhythm changed to something you could dance to.

"Hello." Angus said, falling into a lop-sided grin like a drunk into a gutter.

Dawin didn't need to know he wasn't the only nervous one. Angus wasn't bloody stupid enough to tell him that he looked beautiful but he was. With his dark cheeks and big eyes and the coat that Angus had bought for him. He even liked the clothes beneath, as much as he would have preferred taking Dawin to a tailor. Not tonight, though. He looked good.

"Shall we?" Angus asked, offering his arm.

Well, he'd work on the no touching rule.

"Hello." Dawin smiled back at him, reflexively, mostly because Angus's grin was so infectious, charming. He ducked his head just a little, eying the offered arm out of the corner of one eye and looking back, briefly, over his shoulder. There was a pause - brief, but it probably seemed muchlonger on Angus's side - before he reached out to settle fingers against his arm, sliding awkwardly into the bend of his elbow, settling there like a nervous butterfly.

Well, it was something, at least.

"You just, um." Wiggle wiggle, fingertips brushing against Angus's arm. "I mean, you know where you're going. I'll just follow."

Success.

Angus said little more, shifting through idle prattle about the weather and classes. He kept his tone light. Inside he was beaming and pleased with himself. This was fun, having someone on his arm and going out for dinner. He wanted to muss Dawin's hair just to see how it would look on him.

He did not, of course.

(He imagined it instead.)

Fifteen minutes and they were in front of a bright and welcoming restaurant. Five more and they were seated, wine had been ordered and Angus was smiling, smiling because their time together was going well. The light was bright enough to see by but dark enough that Dawin hopefully wouldn't feel exposed. It was warm inside, not damp at all and the short entrance into the restaurant kept the breeze from blowing in after them and chilling them with every new arrival.

"So, how do you like it?" Angus asked.