crush imagines (he/him crush)

easy (request, kind of)

* In this story, you and C/N aren't dating yet, just friends *

When C/N smiled, the left side of his mouth quirked up a little higher than the right. He genuinely liked relish more than any other condiment. He used his pointer and middle finger like chopsticks.  Those were the things that made him C/N. Those were the things I loved about him.

At 4:15 on Sunday afternoon, we were sitting in his car, splitting a large order of fries from McDonalds. He picked up a fry with his chopstick fingers and flicked it at me. "Nothing's better than this."

I saved the fry from my lap and popped it into my mouth. "Then what?"

The winter sun was low in the sky now, threatening to disappear sometime soon. Squinting, C/N reached over me to flip the sun visor down. "Eating fries," he said, flipping his down too. "At sunset. With a friend."

I tried to hide my disappointment with a smile. "Yeah. Yeah, this is great." 

He looked at me apprehensively. I widened my eyes as wide as they could go, and he laughed. If there was thing I could do, it was lighten the mood.

"Okay," he said, dusting salt from his hands. "Never have I ever..."

This was the purpose of our trip—to play Never Have I Ever. That was all we ever did together, stupid stuff like that, little games and acts of trust. It was the world's way of making sure I knew every little thing about him, yet just couldn't have him. I knew which tooth he'd lost first, but I didn't know the feeling of his breath on my neck. And that fucking sucked. 

"Never have I ever painted my nails neon yellow," he challenged, raising a brow.

I rolled my eyes and looked at my heinous fingernails. "Okay, first of all, it was a dare."

He smiled, eyes shining. Just smiled at me, no laughing, no teasing.  

"And, um..." I swallowed, and he finally broke his gaze. With that, I regained my footing. "Second of all, you're a cheeky bastard." 

"That I am," he sighed, fountaining a fry. "And that's why you love me."

I practically writhed in my seat. He was such a fucking idiot. 

"Your turn," he announced, completely oblivious. "C'mon, get me back."

I gazed up at the roof of the car. Hell, anywhere but at him. 

"Y/N?" he began. But a blessed, heavenly, divine, sound rang out from my phone, shutting down anymore of his innocent friend bullshit. An alarm. At 4:20? I fumbled for my phone and squinted at my Home Screen. 

"Oh, shit." I scrambled to unbuckle myself. "Shit, shit, shit."

C/N unbuckled too, turning towards me. "What is it?" 

I struggled with the door. "I have to be somewhere right now." It finally gave, and I stumbled out into the parking lot. The cold air cleared my spirits. I breathed. 

Behind me, C/N closed the front door and walked around to my side of the car. "Y/N," he called, breath swirling around his mouth like smoke. "Talk to me." 

He placed his hands on my shoulders and tried to turn me towards him, but I stepped away. Backed up. Checked the time. C/N looked defeated, confused. He unraveled in front of me. Served him right. 

"I have a thing with Peter," I huffed, checking my reflection in my front camera. "We're supposed to have dinner and work on a Model UN thing." 

C/N paused, frustration clouding his face. I'd triggered him. I knew that. But there was nothing I could do about his stupid little locker-room feud. Not when there was imaginary foreign policy work to be done.