Restaurant Dates Are The Worst! (Sebastian Stan x Reader)

Restaurant Dates Are The Worst!

You looked around you, scrutinizing your surroundings, letting your eyes wander on the walls, the chandeliers, the dark-red faux velvet chairs next to the bar section of the restaurant – you looked anywhere but at the man sitting across from you, ungracefully shoving his spaghetti into his mouth all the while talking to you.

The reason why you hated dates just came rushing back to you but it was too late to back down now, you said yes – God knows why – and you showed up to this restaurant where your date told you to come. Although it has been a while since the last time you actually went out with a man romantically interested in you, you were pretty sure that if he didn't even make the effort to pick you up, the least he could do was to arrive on time. After three glasses of water, a couple bread sticks and a glass of whiskey, the waitress started to feel sorry for you and you stopped her whispering something to her co-worker while giving you a sympathetic glance. That's it, you were going to leave. But of course that's when he finally decided to show up, apologizing profusely and explaining that he came with the metro and he missed the station and had to walk two blocks before arriving here. Great, so now you knew that he wasn't going to drive you back home either.

His name was Robert - "call me Bob," he said, but there was no way, it was already difficult enough for you to process that you agreed to go on a date with a guy names Robert. Probably about ten years older than you – how would you know? - his hair was gray in some places, his forehead had a beginning of wrinkle and he seemed like the annoyingly flirty type of man whose smiles you couldn't trust. He was a gym teacher in the school you worked for a couple days a week – you were a nurse – and he was all over you since day one. Although he seemed pretty insistent, you had seen him hit on other women so you didn't think that he was really interested in you, more like aroused by the whole 'nurse' thing.

So why did you say yes? Well, you were kinda bored, you figured that maybe you had misjudged him and would spend a nice evening, and if not, maybe he's finally give up on trying to get in yours pants. To say that you were beginning to regret your decision was the understatement of the year. So far he talked about work, his mom, football and his ex. If he intended on seducing her, he needed to take a course on how to seduce women because that clearly wasn't going to work. It itched you to throw your drink to his face but it was good wive and you didn't think he was worth a fine Chardonnay.

"I'll go out for a minute, want to come?" He asked, making you blink a couple times and focus back on him. He was giving you a questioning look and held a cigarette between his fingers. To dismiss himself like that without even asking you if you minded smoke made you reconsider throwing your glass his way, but you figured that you couldn't exactly expect more given how this date started.

"I think I'll stay here, have another drink," you said, quickly gulping down the last of your wine. He was so boring you actually had the time to smell and taste the wine until you had figured out all the components.

He shrugged and stood up, not saying another word as he walked away from you and out the front door. Suddenly your brain started functioning again and you could almost hear the gearing creak from the lack of use these past two hours. You had reached dessert, the torture would end soon enough, right? Was it worth throwing some money on the table and escaping through the back door? Should you wait for him to come back and pretend you received an urgent phone call and had to leave immediately? Should you suck it up and stay anyway? Honestly, you would have ran away if you weren't going to see him again at work – but that would make your meetings too awkward for you to bear.

You decided to stay, but if you were going to endure this whole evening, there was no way you'd do it sober. You headed to the bar, sitting on one of the leather stools and gesturing the barman to come over when he's have finished serving the men at the far end of the counter.