This was easily the worst date in the history of dates.

You and Conan were friends by proxy, and somehow you had managed to somehow accidentally through friendliness that was interpreted as awkward flirting get him to go out to dinner with you.

Instead of cups, the weird hippie restaurant you were at served sparkling water in jars. Not a bad concept, right? Wrong. Unwieldy bastards, too wide around to be held easily, a design flaw from someone who obviously didn't pass geometry or algebra or wherever you're expected to learn about dimensions. Long story short, drinks were spilled and fumbled all night, the waiter wouldn't stop flirting with him, and there were a lot of awkward silences.

But somehow it had led to a second date. And a third. And now you were on your fourth date with this walking, talking train wreck.

Chick-fil-A was a lot more convenient than actually going in anywhere when neither one of you were socially adept enough to deal with awkward situations or people.

You were now keeping him off your fries as he pulled into the parking lot of some quiet park.

"What do you even think you're doing?" He scoffed with false anger, swatting your hand away from the food.

"Don't even try to give me the fries you've eaten out of, that's cheating."