They went out to their local tapas place. Both acting as casual as they could, so casual that they were definitely being strange. Oliver was wearing a nice white shirt with multicoloured birds on it and a nice pair of jeans. Definitely could be considered a date outfit but could be passed off as a casual outfit to wear for some nice casual friendly dinner. 

He was thinking the word casual too much. He was afraid that when he opened his mouth it would be the first nonsensical word he said. Casual. He was being casual. Wasn’t he? He tripped on his way in the door, casual.

Chris turned as Oliver’s feet slipped out from under him. He grabbed him trying not to think about how soft his shirt felt and how good their bodies felt pressed together. Chris quickly realised he was just..holding Oliver. He hasn’t fallen at all, he had merely tripped over the door frame. Chris let go of Oliver so quickly he staggered slightly. Time for dinner. Not a date he reminded himself, just a dinner. “Okay love?” He asked Oliver trying to force the blush back down. 

“Yeah-I-yeah I’m fine” Oliver murmured back. 

They were shown to their table by a lovely man who had decidedly ignored their strange, grapple/hug that had happened at the door. As they sat he lit a candle and pushed it towards the centre of the table. It looked beautiful. Flowers, a candle, glasses waiting for wine, and beautiful leather bound menus. The not-date was a go. 

They chatted easily and for once neither felt like they had to hold back. They laughed and ate things they wouldn’t remember as they discussed regular salon clients, the other queens, who was working the stage and who needed the extra time. 

Chris was just in the middle of a story about a client who was very openly having an affair with her tennis instructor and got her hair set every Wednesday, “it’s just such a cliche!” He laughed. “Who even has a tennis instructor anymore, her husband has to know!” 

When his phone buzzed. It was a dating app. He had gotten a match. Oliver pretended not notice even when he felt the tapas he had eaten was going to make another appearance. 

Chris pretended he hadn’t noticed either and turned his phone over on the table to hide the screen. This was the wrong move. 

“Why don’t you check it. You might have just been matched with the love of your life” Oliver joked emptily. “You could bring him here” 

“Oliver you and I are here tonight, I don’t need to check my phone unless it’s an emergency which I don’t see happening. We’re having a lovely night aren’t we?” Oliver laughed again, casual, casual, “but this isn’t real, it’s just dinner. It’s not important” 

Chris recoiled slightly, he hasn’t said anything, not even in his own heart but he had hoped tonight would open some paths not lead them to this. 

“Not important?” He knew he sounded cold. “I thought dinner in a nice restaurant with your best friend was important. But maybe you’re right.” 

Chris checked his phone, it was some picture-less profile, looking for a hookup. Chris wasn’t interested but he made a big show of making his blocking look like texting. “I’ll leave so. Since this isn’t important, I’m gonna go meet this guy okay? Don’t wait up”. He threw money on the table, grabbed his jacket and very stupidly walked out. 

Oliver sat dumbfounded. This isn’t what he had wanted at all. He knew he shouldn’t have mentioned the notification but something cold and sad in his gut had made him say it. He had wanted to sound jokey and lighthearted but Chris was now gone. And he had sounded upset too. Was he going to just go meet some stranger just because Oliver had opened his big fat mouth? 

Well he supposed this is what he had wanted, he wanted Chris to find a real man instead of someone like him. He had wanted Chris to be happy but really he had wanted Chris to be happy with him. What had he done? 

The not a date had become anything but casual, it had ended tense and angrily. Chris talking in that clipped way of his that he only pulled out when he was upset or a customer was trying to get through to the stage. 

Now what. He couldn’t go home, if it was empty he’d stay up all night until Chris got home and it would be torture. But what was he meant to do? Sit in the romantic restaurant alone and let those tears that were threatening to fall, out? He paid blindly, not taking any note of how much it cost, slammed down a tip and half staggered to the door. 

He’d find a small pub to sit in and try not to cry too much over his latest mistake. He knew he’d ruin it. And he had.