Order 73 ~DNF~

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Y'all ✨sometimes ✨ I can be funny, and this is one of those times. istg I almost shat myself writing this 😭

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𝒟𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂 𝒫𝒪𝒱

Fine dining isn't something I do often. Usually I only go out when business partners invite me, or I have to flatter potential clients. My first experience was with Techno, surprisingly. We had talked for hours about my growing company and he decided to take me out with him and Phil to celebrate a multi-million dollar deal they had landed.

Safe to say, I was embarrassed out of my mind. I had no idea what to do, I pretty much broke every rule in the place and I almost left. They both took pity on me and taught me the basics. Techno was definitely going to do the same to George now that he's working for them. Might as well save him from the humiliation.

It wasn't all self-less though. Anything was worth it to keep him in that suit for a little longer.

"If you start taking tomatoes off shit, I'll kick you out myself." I mumble, pulling my keys out of the ignition. He taps his foot nervously, looking out the window at the fancy establishment. "Although, if you don't wanna do this, say the word and we'll go back home and order some pizza."

"Tempting. But if we go home, you'll take that off." He hums, gesturing to the suit he picked out for me. "So I suppose I'll suffer through a formal dinner with you."

He opens his car door and shuts it with me still inside, rapping the window with his knuckles to get me to hurry the hell up. I don't even attempt to hide the harsh blush on my cheeks as I step out of the car, sighing when I spot a few cars pulling up next to us.

George reaches for my hand and I pull away slightly. "George, I'd love to hold your hand, but there are people watching us." I murmur into his ear, putting some distance between us. He scans the area and sighs, smiling up at me like it was no big deal.

We hurry over to the doors and I watch a few people struggle with their cameras as they watch us. We manage to get inside before they get to us, exhaling with relief. I reach for his hand, as we're seated at our table, reciting all the pretentious steps in my head to make sure I don't forget anything.

George stares at the wide array of silverware laid out meticulously in front of him, chewing his bottom lip. He looks around at the decadently dressed individuals around him. He looks back at me. I'm doomed, he eyes me silently.

I chuckle, watching the waiter approach our table. Huh, this one is new. I've been here quite a few times, and I've never seen him before. He whirls around us with practiced ease, filling up our glasses with champagne, assuring us that our food will be served shortly.

George looked too afraid to touch anything, keeping his hands in his lap at all times. I watch him in amusement, tilting my head as he makes panicked eye contact. "Dream, how do I say I need to pee without sounding like I'm homeless?"

I clear my throat."Excuse me good sir, may I request an interval to urinate inside this fine establishment's porcelain throne?" Goddamn, my British accent is coming along nicely.

He glares at me as I try not to die of laughter, choked sounds coming out of my throat as we get glances from the table next to us. I know George is five seconds away from flipping them off. He stands up heatedly, placing his napkin on his chair and scooching out.

Low and behold, his salad fork decided to fuck with him and falls down onto the spotless marble floor. The clatter echoes through the room, and any conversation that was going on, quiets as everyone tries to find the idiot who interrupted their meal.