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Evan held the tie up to his chest and checked the mirror. The funky rust color against the blue of his shirt clashed badly enough to hurt the artist in his soul. He dropped the tie down on the bed.
Seriously, he should have known better than to borrow a tie from Peter Grodin. The man was a brilliant scientist, but he had the fashion sense of a gerbil. The way he wore his trousers, hiked up almost to his armpits, should have been Evan's first clue.
He rubbed his hands over his face and, not for the first time, wondered if he was overthinking this entire dinner date thing. Hell, knowing David, Evan could show up in pajamas, and the man would never notice.
Pulling a clean, black tee from the dresser, he spread it out on the bed. Yeah, it was a little shades of Sheppard, but it was hard to go wrong with a classic look. Besides, this was going to be a simple meal out on the balcony. A few candles, some soft music, and, with luck, no interruptions from the Wraith, the Genii, or any of a hundred other crises likely to happen on Atlantis.
Decision made, Evan changed into the T-shirt and his best jeans. The ones that hugged his ass to perfection.
Cadman promised to have the balcony set up and swore she'd make sure their meal arrived hot and on time. At first, Evan thought she seemed a little overeager to have such an enthusiastic hand in his date plans. Then Cadman explained that if she couldn't get Carson to man up and ask her out for Valentine's, then she'd bloody well make sure at least someone had a good night of it.
Somehow, Evan just knew there would be pictures. Pictures so that she could show her sometimes boyfriend just what he was missing.
As tempting as it was to put a bug in the Doc's ear and nudge him into making an assertive move toward Cadman, Evan was having enough trouble with his own relationship.
Once again, he had to thank the Atlantis command staff, because they couldn't care less who got into whose pants. They cared about surviving, decent trade agreements, and a military force ready to stand between this galaxy's threats and the city's civilians.
Speaking of civilians, David was late. While a lesser man might worry that he was being stood up, Evan knew David's tendency toward distraction. Not that it didn't ding a man's ego to find out he'd come in second to the native variety of semperflorens variegata.
Time to round up his man. He stopped first at David's quarters. When there was no answer to the chime, he let himself in. This place looked like a hurricane hit it. Clothes and books—actual hardcover books—coffee cups and hard drives were scattered around the room. Nothing Evan hadn't seen before, so nothing unusual. But where the hell was he?
He headed down the hall to see if he could borrow Dr. McKay's life-sign detector. When the door opened, he didn't expect to see David there. "David?"
"Evan! What are you doing here?" The penny dropped. Wide-eyed and sounding embarrassed, he said, "Oh no. I'm overdue for our date, aren't I?"
Evan looked between McKay and David. David wore a black shirt and black cargo pants. McKay held a hairbrush in one hand and some sort of styling product in the other. It was obvious that he'd been trying to style David's hair.
It made a wacky sort of sense. Everyone, with the exception of Dr. McKay himself, knew he had a thing for Col. Sheppard. The very fact that he'd been trying to turn David into a Sheppard lookalike was proof of that.
Evan began feeling a little queasy about his own choice of black. He sighed. Like it or not, Col. Sheppard made a hell of an impression.
Speak of the devil, Sheppard poked his head through the door. "Rodney, are you done yet?" He tapped his watch while lifting an eyebrow.
"I was just finishing up." He gave David a push towards the door.
Sheppard nodded at Evan. "Heard you two had a date night planned. I'm glad to see Rodney helping out, but I'm going to need him for the rest of the evening."
"Sir. We were just leaving." He grabbed David's arm and hustled him out the door. The last thing he heard as they headed down the hall was Sheppard calling out, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"
Later, as they were finishing their wine by candlelight, David said. "I think the Colonel really likes Rodney."
Holding back a smile, Evan took in David's dark clothes and the attempted spiky hairstyle. "I suspect you're right, babe, and you know what? I suspect it's mutual."
David seemed to chew that idea over. "Do you think we should say something to, oh, I don't know, something to encourage it along?" He reached across the table and took Evan's hand. "It's…you…us…" He blushed. "I've never been happier."
He felt the same way, but Evan struggled to find the right words. David's smile grew smaller and smaller as the seconds ticked away, until Evan blurted, "I do! I…I mean, same. You and me. It makes me happy, too."
David's face lit up. His thousand-watt smile saying more than words could.
They finished their dessert, spending more time looking shyly at each other than actually eating.
"We could go back to my place," Evan suggested.
"I'd like that. I really would. Please don't take this the wrong way, but I need to go back to my place."
Huh? Things had been going so well. At least he'd thought it had. Was he about to get the It's not you, it's me speech?
David must have read his mind, because he started laughing. "It's not you or me, Evan. It's this damn stuff in my hair. It itches like crazy, and I think it's giving me a rash."