Imagine your friends setting you up on a date with MGG and he decides for your first date that he will take you to Disneyland (it is the happiest place on earth.) At first you think that it's kind of a silly, cheesy place for a date but his infectious joy and love for all things Disney soon change your mind and you end up falling for the adorable dork. Or something along those lines. :)
I can most certainly do this one-shot! Thank you so much for being so patient with me. Here is your one-shot, comin’ ‘atcha!
Staring at the tennis shoes, you sigh heavily as your shoulders slump.
You had no idea what to buy, or what to wear, or even what to do.
Your friends had a genius idea of setting you up on a blind date. Ok. Fine. You could get through that.
But once you found out that your date had decided to take you to Disneyland of all places, you didn’t only become skeptical of his personality, but you became skeptical of your footwear.
All of your Googling came down to two things: 1) have comfortable clothes and 2) have lots of money.
So as you scanned your shoes that morning, trying to prep for your early morning journey to Disneyland the next day, you realize that your shoe selection was a variation of flats and flip flops.
So off you went to the store to look at tennis shoes for walking.
Finally settling on a pair after the “shoe professional” had attempted to talk you in to the most expensive pair, you head across the street to the clothing store where you find a pair of outlandishly colored legging and a lightweight tunic top.
After all, if he was going to get the best impression of you, you might as well just be yourself.
Walking back to your car with your bags in hand, you feel your phone vibrate as you throw your bags in the trunk, shuffling for your phone in your pocket.
Swiping your finger across the screen as an unknown number pops up, you click it open to read the text message.
Hey! Just wanted to make sure we were still on for tomorrow. I’ll pick you up around 7. You like coffee?
Did you like coffee?
You bathed in coffee.
Typing back your response, you smile as you press send, a flush emanating across your cheeks as you climb in to your car and crank the engine.
Sitting on your couch with your back taut, you mindlessly stare at the clock as the minutes count down.
Alright, you can do this. It’s just a date. Nothing more.
Don’t puke. Don’t puke. Don’t puke.
Oh god, I’m gonna puke.
Sighing as you spring up from the couch, your stomach dropping to your toes as you smooth your shirt out against your stomach, you hear your doorbell ring from across the apartment.
Leaping out of your room as you catch yourself, you take in a deep breath before slowly walking over to your door, your hand trembling as you slowly inch it open to reveal a tall, lanky, scruffy-haired man-child holding two cups of coffee with a Mickey sweater on.
“Hi!” he says cheerfully, shoving you a cup of coffee, “Peppermint Mocha with an extra shot, right?”
Nodding as you smile, you bring the beautiful-smelling drink to your lips as you take a sip, your eyes fluttering closed as you take in its beautiful aroma.
Hearing him chuckle lightly, your eyes fly open wide, a grin streaked across his cheeks as he holds his coffee at his chest.
“I guess you do like coffee,” he offers.
“Mmmm, yes,” you say as you swallow, “Very much.”
Surveying your date one more time, you shake your head as you giggle as his sweater.
“Oh, man,” you mutter.
“Oh, don’t judge just yet,” he says as he holds out his hand, “The fun is just beginning.”
And as you take his hand, slowly walking out of your apartment as he grabs behind you to shut your door, he leads you down the steps of your apartment and out to his still-running car, opening your door for you as you climb in to his rustic station-wagon.
What have you gotten yourself in to?
You quickly realized why your date, who you had found out was named Matthew, was wearing a sweater.
Shivering as the wind whipped through the 60 degree weather, you rub your hands up and down your arms to try and quell your puckering skin.
Watching as Matthew hustles out of his sweater, you hold your hand up as he holds it out for you.
“You are going to get sick,” you say, eyeing him kindly as you refuse to take his sweater.
“Please take it,” he says, his eyes heavy with guilt, “I promise I’m not cold.”
“You’re not cold because of the sweater,” you say, pushing it back towards him as he looks around quickly.
“Fine. If you don’t want my sweater, I’ll just have to buy you one of your own.”
Watching him dash off before you can lift your finger in protest, he comes back 10 minutes later with an over-sized Minnie sweater.
“I’m sorry,” he says as you slip it on, “They only had it in an extra large.”
Cuddling in to is as your body starts to warm up, a smile crosses your face as you hold your arms out.
“This thing is so comfortable!” you squeal, holding it close to your face as you take a big sniff.
“I’m glad you like it,” he smiles as he shuffles from foot to foot.
Looking around as you take in the scenery around you, the sun illuminating the bright colors around you, you feel Matthew slowly slip his arm around your waist as you turn back to him, his kind smile warming your face as you feel your cheeks begin to flush.
“So, where you do want to start?” he asks.
“Well, I’m afraid you might be out of luck on the roller coasters,” you say, eyeing one warily in the distance, “The truth is, I’ve never been here, and I get motion sickness easily and didn’t bring anything with me to help.”
“Well, there are smoother rides if you want to still ride them,” he offers up, “And there are 3D movie theaters that show various things, and there are rides that are walk-through, and we can walk stores or just take in the sights as we stuff our stomachs with lots of expensive food that you can find at any simple diner!”
Chuckling at his enthusiasm, you smile back up at him as the two of you walk along the cobbled street, a barbershop quartet coming within earshot as you whip your head around and begin to watch.
“Oh, I love quartets!” you muse, grabbing his hand and running across the street with him.
As the group starts to sing “You Must Have Been A Beautiful Baby,” you feel Matthew twirl you around, your hand landing softly in his as he starts to stumble, guiding you haphazardly along the sidewalk as he awkwardly sways to the music.
Throwing your head back and laughing as you continue to move with him, his body bobbing and weaving as the quartet continues to sing out, he dips you down low, your hair fluttering backwards, as he slowly brings you up, your bodies shifting close as you catch his gaze.
As the two of you continue to stare at each other, the guys cueing up another song in the background, you clear your throat as your eyes start to dart, taking a step back from him as you smile broadly.
“Do you like tree-houses?” he asks you, shuffling on his feet as you raise your eyes to his.
“Huh?” you ask.
“Well, there’s an attraction here where there’s a life-size Chip ‘N Dale treehouse. You can climb up in it and it has interactive games and videos to watch. Do you wanna…you know…check it out?”
Watching as his hand slowly extends out towards you, you grin as you slip your hand in his, his arm pulling you close as the wind starts to pick up a bit.
“Sounds like fun,” you say, your voice soft as you curl in to his body, his arm wrapping around you in an attempt to shield you from the gust of wind as the two of you take off down the cobbled road towards the ground trolley.
Giggling as the two of you walk up your steps to your apartment, you round the banister and stand by your door, trying to catch your breath as you recant the events of the day.
“I still can’t believe that you twerked with Mickey!” you exclaim, your stomach hurting from laughter as Matthew tries to catch his breath.
“Oh my god,” he breathes, wiping at a tear from the corner of his eye as the two of you attempt to catch your breath, your heaves settling in to light pants as the laughter begins to die down.
As you look at your keys, fiddling with them as you stay turned towards him, you hear him clear his throat as your gaze whips up to his.
“So, I really had a good time today,” he says, his voice low and soft.
“Me, too,” you smile, your cheeks flushing deep as you hear him giggle.
“But this morning, you probably thought I was an over-grown man-child.”
Feeling your eyes widen as you whip your gaze back up to him, he starts to laugh once more as he cups your cheek, his thumb swiping gracefully over your skin.
“It’s alright. I’m wearing a Mickey sweater. It’s a logical assumption,” he smiles.
Letting out the breath you were holding, your body starts to relax as you nod with relief.
“I’m glad you didn’t hold that against me,” you say, your shaking hands dropping your keys on to the floor.
“Here let me-”
Dipping down to pick them up just as he crouches, you both reach for your keys as your fingers brush up against one another’s, the skin on your hand tingling from the sensation as you slowly look up at him, your eyes meeting as he smiles broadly.
“Let me get that,” he muses, barely above a whisper, as the two of you slowly raise up, his hand outstretched to hand you your keys.
“I-…I’m such a clutz,” you snicker, shaking your head as you fumble for your apartment key once more.
Watching as Matthew’s hand slowly encompasses yours, stilling your shaking appendages as you slowly raise your gaze, you find his face slowly descending on to yours as he moves a little to the left, his lips planting a light, sweet, warm kiss on your cold cheek.
Sighing in to it as you press your face in to the warmth, he begins to pepper your cheek with feather-like kisses, his hand coming up to cup the back of your neck as his lips slowly find yours, encapsulating them as his tongue peeks out from between his beautiful lips, ever so lightly swiping over yours before pulling back and laying his forehead on to yours.
“Do you eat breakfast?” he murmurs lowly.
“Not…not usually,” you breathe, your breath shaky as your jaw quivers.
“Would you make an exception for tomorrow, say…around 9?” he asks, his breath hot on your face.
“Y-yeah,” you stammer, swallowing harder than you thought you would as your eyes flutter up to his.
“It’s a date, then,” he smiles, placing a light kiss on your forehead before pulling away.
“It’s a date,” you repeat, smiling at him as you finally turn and stick your apartment key into its lock, swinging your door open and stepping through.
“9 o’clock,” he says, slowly backing away from your door as he thrusts his hands in to his pockets.
“9 o’clock,” you repeat as you watch him slowly back out of view, a smile adorning his face as you slowly start to close your door.
And as you hear the door tick in to place, you lean your back against it, a goofy smile spreading across your cheeks as you bring your fingers to your lips, your eyes closing as you remember the warmth and safety of his lips.