crush imagines (he/him crush)

double date

C/N was an introvert at heart, but when placed in a social situation, he could charm the pants off of even the most miserable human beings. To his dismay, his social life was booming at all times, and he was bombarded by never ending invites, calls, texts, flirty dms, and 'I'm in town's. 

One evening, he came home from an office party completely drained. I dragged myself out of bed to give him a long hug and make him a quick turkey sandwich and some tea. He waddled out of the bathroom just as the kettle began to whistle, massaging his damp hair with a towel. 

He settled onto the barstool next to mine and immediately dug into his meal. 

"Thanks," he managed to say, smiling between bites. I smoothed down a wet cowlick and stood so that I could nuzzle my chin into the top of his hair. 

"How'd it go?"

He shrugged and raised a hand in exasperation. "I mean, it was an office party." 

I rubbed his shoulder, hoping to heal him with random acts of empathy. He blew on his tea and continued. "Mark invited us to something tomorrow."

My heart dropped. Mark, C/N's best friend from the office, seemed to be a lovely man, but I was breaking out and my favorite dress was getting dry cleaned, and I was in no place to be meeting someone new in such a state. 

"What are we talking?" I asked, wearily sitting back down. He read my worry and immediately smiled reassuringly.

"Nothing special. Just lunch with him and his fiancé. He's heard so much about you, and yet I think he still only half-believes you're real."

I laughed, half relief and half genuine appreciation of C/N's observation. "Dress code?"

"Whatever makes you feel beautiful," he recited, as he always did. I pecked him on the cheek and wiped a bit of mayo from the side of his mouth. 

"Sounds fun!" 

He shrugged. I decided to let him eat and bounded back to our bedroom, already thinking about what to wear and how to introduce myself. 

The café was cozy yet popular, the kind of place that warranted a reservation weeks in advance but didn't charge much for a meal. C/N guided me through the mass of couches and tables, his hand pressed stiffly against the small of my back. I shot him a mischievous look as we neared Mark's table, successfully eliciting a charmed smile from him. 

Mark was just as I'd imagined him—angular, tall, and objectively handsome. I settled onto the couch across from his, scooting to make space for C/N to sit next to me. 

To Mark's left was a woman with alluring big eyes and a waist so small she could probably shimmy it into a dress made for a six year old. She smiled politely at me, yet her beauty was unsettling, and I found myself crossing my hands over my stomach to hide my bloat. 

C/N nonchalantly pulled my hands away from my stomach one by one, distracting Mark and his mystery women by striking up a conversation. 

"Believe me now, Mark?" he asked, holding up one of my arms to show its solidity. 

"How much did he pay you," Mark questioned sarcastically, gaze fixed on mine. I laughed awkwardly, somewhat unsure how to handle that kind of small talk, and slightly annoyed that anyone would doubt C/N's datability. 

"Oh, uh, this is Georgia," he announced, leaning into her as she placed a hand to his shoulder. 

I smiled. They looked right together. When they pulled apart, however, Georgia shot me a look that told me we were on bad terms. 

As lunch progressed, I spoke less and less, focusing on the food and how sexy C/N was when he was talking about work. Every once in a while, he'd check in on me, tapping my thigh twice and glancing at my face. He could sense my discomfort. 

Though Mark was talking to C/N, a lot of the time, he directed questions and jokes at me. His gaze lingered on my chest. His foot met mine under the table. I was completely perplexed by his intentions. How could he want me when he had Georgia?

In between the entrée and dessert, I left to use the restroom. Little did I know, Georgia trailed me. As I relieved myself in my stall, I watched her heels appear in the stall next to it. 

"He's drunk, alright?" Georgia's voice echoed around the room. "He isn't usually like this, He isn't usually—" she takes a moment to think of the word. "desperate." Her words stung so badly that I stopped peeing mid-stream, which was both horribly embarrassing and slightly painful. 

"You're encouraging him," she continued. "Indulging his little jokes and stuff. I understand the impulse, believe me." I heard the sink turn on, the soap dispenser buzz. "Your boyfriend seems too wrapped up in work to notice, thank god. But I notice these things, Y/N. And I don't like it." 

Within moments, she was gone, the door slamming shut behind her. 

I panicked. I cleaned up, but didn't leave the stall, just drew my knees up to my chest and prayed that C/N was holding down the fort. If I returned, it was perfectly plausible that I could offend everyone, leave the café a single woman, and live the rest of my life alone, a spinster. 

After what felt like hours, but must have been mere minutes, the bathroom door creaked open. Men's loafers clacked their way across the tile before stopping at my stall. 

"Y/N," C/N called, voice low and steady. "They're gone." 

I lowered my knees in relief. "Really?"

"Mhm." 

I stood and opened the door, practically throwing myself into his embrace. "I thought you were going to be mad at me," I croaked, my mascara tears soaking his shirt.

He planted a firm kiss to my shoulder. "I know you better than that," he murmured. He synced our breathing, his favorite way to calm me down. We stood there in silence for a little while, until I remembered where we were. 

"C/N!" I giggled, shoving him playfully. "You creep!"

He laughed as he let me push him out of the bathroom.

"Oh, I'm the creep? Not Mr. Kubrick-Stare-My-Colleagues-Girlfriend-To-Death?"

"...You're both creeps," I decided. C/N shrugged in acceptance. 

"I'm glad I'm your creep, then."

I let a smile take over my face as we weaved to the front door. A new sense of security hit me like a wave. I could now fully trust the C/N trusted me.