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

There are Ups, and then there are Downs

A month later, Sebastian had to leave again. This time it was for the promo of Civil War, the fan conventions and stuff like that. You understood, but you didn't look forward to seeing him go away again. Life was nice and soft with him around. It was domestic, and it brought a sense of security and warmness to your otherwise lonely and routine life. You wordlessly agreed to spend most of your time together at your apartment, to avoid the paparazzi as best you could. Though the paparazzi weren't the center of your problem at all, far from it.

Here you sat in your kitchen, fiddling with your fork, counting your peas and letting your food get cold. Two weeks of him gone, and you didn't know what to do about your problem, you wished he was there. Sebastian would place himself behind you and engulf you in a bear hug of his. Then he would lean down and nuzzle his face in the crook of your neck, alternating between placing kisses in your neck and whispering sweet nothings in your ear all the while you told him about your issues and than he'd turn you around and give you a piece of advise before reminding you that he was there no matter what and that you could count on him if your problem didn't go away.

But Sebastian wasn't there, and you were alone to deal with it. You pondered the pros and cons of telling him the next time he called you, but you feared that it might anger him, or worry him more than necessary – the last thing you wanted was for him to leave in the middle of the promo of his upcoming movie to fly back to New York because of you. In two days, it would be your six months anniversary – not that you were one of these girls who kept track or celebrated all the anniversaries, you just noticed when you saw the date and realized you had been with him for half a year now. He must have forgotten, and you didn't care, it simply made you smile nostalgically when you recalled your first date with him.

Unlike Robert, he had showed up directly at your door, looking good and fresh – almost too good to be honest, you didn't expect him to look even better than the night at the bar, but it seemed like in sunlight he was twice as handsome as in a darkly lit room with faux red velvet walls. He looked nervous, which you found hilarious given the circumstances, because you were seconds away from having a stroke. But then he reached out to take your hand, and when you touched, you felt the tension leave your shoulders, and he visibly relaxed too. He didn't come with his car – who even used his care anymore in New York in the middle of the day apart from those going to work?

"I didn't know what you liked so I figured I'd leave today free of any plans," he explained to you. "I considered taking you bowling, or to a museum, or even the movies, but then I realized I didn't even know if you enjoyed these things-" he continued, leading you away from your building, still holding your hand.

It felt rather nice to hold his hand. It was bigger than yours, a little calloused and a lot warmer than you had expected, but it didn't feel out of place at all – you enjoyed this contact. It wasn't like holding hands when you were teenagers, it wasn't shy and awkward, it was light and enjoyable.

"-which made me think that I should get to know you first before taking you to an awkward date where you'd have to pretend to like, I don't know, Art Nouveau paintings?" He laughed heartily, a smile drawing on your face in answer to his joyful personality.

"I love Art Nouveau! Gustav Klimt is one of my favorites," you said, making him smile even bigger.

"See? Now I know something about you – I can take you to the Klimt exhibition that takes place next week," he cheekily told you, casually planning up ahead another date. Not that you minded the least bit – you would have been crazy to pass an opportunity to see this man again.