Chapter Text
John seats himself eagerly in his booth. The old diner on the edge of town seemed pleasant so far. So he orders a milkshake for himself as he's not sure what his date would like. Though he supposes he could just order a plain coffee if he gets approached again before the guy gets here. Coffee is pretty universal. Even if he doesn't care for it, it's still a nice gesture.
He hadn't received any info about what this man would look like, but John had told him he'd be wearing a Ghostbusters shirt and glasses, so hopefully that would be enough.
“I'm sure I'll be able to spot the only person there over the age of twelve wearing a ghostbusters shirt, I'll be fine,” the guy had assured him. Jokes on him, none of the kids here were even wearing ghostbusters on their shirts at all!
John was just considering his caffeinated ‘peace offering’, and the logistics of swapping the sugar and salt labels for a friendly prank to break the ice. That was why they were here after all, and he wanted to make a good impression off the bat. All thoughts are abandoned when the door opens and John's heart leaps at the sight of a man wearing dark, shabby clothes, striding into the diner. John scoops him out tail to tip; scuffed leather boots, tight denim pants with rips and worn patches all over, a thick leather belt with a heavy buckle that he tucked a thumb into--oh! fingerless, leather biking gloves as well--one of those tank tops with arm holes open all the way down to the waist, and a bizarre pair of shades with tall pointy tips that obscure any proper glimpse of this man's face. And finally, dirty blonde hair, spiked and styled to defy gravity. He looks like a tough but very strange, stony-faced asshole.
John's immediate thought is, God I hope that's him .
The guy shows no indication of seeing or recognising John, or of having any purpose at all, as he passes the rows of booths. John holds his breath as he nears. He doesn't slow down or pause as he approaches John's booth, and it's not until he smoothly glides onto the seat across that John beams with victory.
"Hi! You're Die Stri , yeah?"
"Call me Dirk." The guy drawls, offering a leather-clad hand which John shakes enthusiastically. He desperately wants to know if this look is part of the plan, or if he genuinely dresses like this. He can't believe anyone dresses like this. But then, it's not like John gets out much.
"Why? Is that your name?" John blurts out "I'm John! But you already knew that."
"It's not my full name but yes, Dirk is what I go by. I know you probably want to make sure I'm not a murderer or something, but I'm really not comfortable sharing personal details with strangers myself, so--"
"That's fine!" John waves away the thought, abruptly. "You wanna order? I was gonna get you a coffee or something while I waited--Oh! Also I was going to swap the salt and sugar but didn't get the chance, so you're safe. For now!"
"Coffee sounds good. What are you having?"
"Milkshake! Um... It's one of their combo flavours. I got the Killer Queen. "
"Cool. Do I wait here or go over?"
"They should come over--uh--I said I was expecting someone so..."
"Alright."
They sit for a moment in an awkward silence, John realising that without the sugar/salt bit, he isn't sure how to start a conversation with a stranger he's just met off craigslist.
"Are you gonna take off your shades?" He blurts out.
"Nope. Shades don't come off." Dirk says, curtly.
The more weird this guy seems, the more John knows that this is definitely the guy he wants to bring home to meet his dad.
"So..." Dirk starts, taking the initiative, "what's your plan exactly."
John takes a slurp of his milkshake.
"Well, it's like I said. I need a date for Thanksgiving.”
"Yeah, but fill me in. What's the context here?"
John takes a good, deep breath, and lays his hands on the table to prepare himself for showcasing his situation.
"Well you see, my dad is kind of a master at pranking, and--"
At that moment they're interrupted by the cheery server, who offers them menus.
"Just a coffee, thanks. Black."
"Oh, could I get a slice of that pie just over there? But yeah, apart from that I'm good," the server says they'll be right back and John turns back to Dirk, "So yeah, my dad is like, this master prankster. Most of my life he's kind of involved me in it, playing some minor jokes on me in good fun, but I think he took it pretty easy on me. Mostly, he was teaching me, training me, and since I've left home he hasn't really tried to prank me. Sure, he's sent me exploding letters and parcels filled with shaving cream, but it's all the same mild stuff when I know what he's really capable of. And honestly? I think he's testing me. He's waiting for me to get one over on him. To pull out the stops and come at him with some epic escapade to really put his face in it! You know?"
Dirk stares incredulously at John, a slight break in his straight face seeming baffled by the question.
"I have absolutely no fucking idea what you're talking about. That might be the strangest backstory I've ever heard from a real life person. But please continue, I'm intrigued as fuck." John nods.
"So anyway, I moved out when I went to college and--"
The server returns with Dirk's coffee and John's pie, which he's happy to find is fruit based and not cream. He points this out to Dirk.
"Yeah that would have been some poetic fuckery," Dirk muses, "Now, John. Am I going to go to use the sugar and find you really have swapped it?"
"No! I told you, I--"
"I dunno, could have been a double bluff. But jokes on you, John."
Dirk reaches over the shakers and grabs a few satchels of artificial sweetener, depositing them into his cup.
"Aww. I always forget about the sweet-n-lo," John sighs, snapping his fingers in mock disappointment. He grins at his date. Despite the guy’s closed-off demeanor, John can't help but warm up to him.
"Anyway, every year he asks if I'm seeing someone. Every year. “ if there's someone special in your life Son, you're welcome to bring them here for the holidays ,” and frankly it just feels patronising. Even if I did have someone like that, I kind of don't want to bring them home now! It's like he's desperate for me to be “happy” and “settled”, blegh!"
John can tell that Dirk is definitely looking at him again, but he can't read anything about his emotions through those sunglasses of his, so he doesn't bother trying. He takes a few mouthfuls of the blueberry pie and savours the sweet pastry for a moment before continuing.
"So, seeing your post just made me go... Holy shit. This is brilliant! It's perfect, and it's so obvious but I don't think I would have thought of it otherwise, and I wouldn’t have thought I’d find someone willing to go through with it either! So yeah, if you're cool with it?"
"Sure." Dirk nods, absent-mindedly stirring his coffee. "Glad to help. Just as long as we're clear I'm not actually going to sleep with you or anything."
"Oh, what? No, haha!" John properly laughs, spewing bits of blueberry onto his chin. "No, I'm straight!"
"Hmm. Okay." Dirk responds coolly. "So is that part of the prank? Pretending to be gay? Coz, I dunno. Sounds kinda fucked up to me."
John's face falls and he stares embarrassed at the guy in front of him. Oh god, is he upset? Offended? He realises that Dirk is probably, definitely gay by the sting in his voice. But that's fine. For John, it might make things easier having one of them know how dude relationships work if they're gonna be faking it. But if Dirk isn't OK with that...
"Oh, no, I-- that wasn't the plan at all. I didn't even really think of it like that. And my dad, he's not gonna be all homophobic, I swear! He's a really accepting guy! He's like, too accepting... Like he's so overbearing about every little thing I do. I guess I thought it would be funny, to bring home a guy who’s a mess--No offense! That's just what it said in your ad, right! But it's not coz you're a guy, or because of the gay thing, and I'm sorry if that’s how it--"
John has definitely been rambling, getting more and more anxious at the lack of change in Dirk's face. For a moment, John's convinced he's screwed it up. That he's pissed off this guy, who was cool and brilliant enough to drop the prank of a lifetime into his lap. And, frankly, is wasting his time on a guy like John who just wanted to use him to annoy his dad.
"I mean, I guess it's kind of funny." Dirk says, frankly, casually sipping his drink. His biting tone has disappeared and John stares blankly, wondering if he'd misread him before. "One day your son comes home with this dude like, ‘Hey dad guess who I'm fucking?’ I'm definitely down to piss off some middle class, suburban boomers."
John's heart pounds in his ears as he eyes Dirk, chuckling lightly, face burning with residual embarrassment.
"I'd take the opportunity to dress like a slut but it'll be freezing in fucking Washington . Might pick up some obnoxious sweaters before we go."
"Dude," John leans forward, grinning conspiringly, "We should get matching sweaters."
"Fuck. I love it."
Dirk whips out his phone, announcing that he's searching for gay holiday sweaters immediately. John finishes his pie and the last of the milkshake, feeling the panic in his chest settle. Dirk seems like a cool guy, he thinks. This is gonna go well.
"What about you, why did you advertise yourself to do all this anyway?"
Dirk shrugs, not looking away from the phone as he casually scrolls. John watches the gallery of gaudy sweaters reflected in his shades.
"Got nothing better to do."
"What, for Thanksgiving?"
"Yeah, or in general. Fuck the holidays. But I miss the big dinners, you know? It's kinda depressing, going to a steak house by yourself. Not that I wasn't too proud to do that a few times but I figured-" He lowers his phone in contemplation. "-might be nice. To do the whole thing, and also piss off some random family whilst doing it. Sounds like a good time. Which reminds me," Dirk abandons his phone, and leans in intently, "Tell me about this Thanksgiving meal we're gonna have."
John grimaces, almost reluctant to admit, "As well as a master prankster, my dad is also... a master cook," He huffs an exasperated sigh, "He mostly bakes, and I can't stand it, but he goes full out for the holidays. Like, seriously overboard. There will be so much food, Dirk. It'll be ridiculous."
Dirk’s face breaks into the first obvious display of human emotion John has seen in the twenty minutes they've been talking. His mouth splits open in a gasp of astonishment, moving swiftly into excitement, threatening a smile but not quite reaching it. He squeezes his hands into fists and punches the air triumphantly.
"Holy shit yesssss, I can't wait."
John beams contentedly across the table. If this guy has been alone for so long, then maybe John can help him have a good Thanksgiving this year. There's a hint of uncertainty in John's voice when he asks,
"So, you'll be my fake boyfriend?"
There’s a pause before Dirk holds out a leather-clad hand once again, the whisper of a smirk on his lips, observing John approvingly. John clasps his hand, sealing the deal.
"For a proper fucking Turkey dinner? Absolutely. Now, we should probably share IDs."