It was Saturday evening, the kind of night that hummed with anticipation. You had spent the last twenty minutes adjusting your outfit in the mirror, brushing your hair one last time, and checking your reflection from every angle. Your stomach fluttered with nerves—you weren’t sure if it was from excitement or because you knew Rodrick’s idea of a “date” could be… unpredictable.

Then, outside, the familiar vroooom of Rodrick’s van echoed down the street. You peeked through the blinds just in time to see him pull up in the Löded Diper van—band stickers plastered across the back, one of the doors squeaking as it opened. He hopped out, running a hand through his messy hair, the same goofy grin plastered on his face.

Your heart warmed immediately.

A knock followed on the front door. “Hey, Y/N, you ready?!” Rodrick called through, his voice a little too loud.

You opened the door, and there he was—jeans, a faded band tee, and that look in his eyes like you were the only person who mattered. He stuffed his hands in his pockets nervously, rocking on his heels. “Wow,” he said, giving you a once-over, “you look… like, really good.”

You smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Thanks. You clean up okay yourself.”

From the living room, your parent’s voice called out: “Who’s at the door?”

Before you could answer, Rodrick raised his voice awkwardly. “Uh—it’s me, Rodrick! I’m here to… uh… take Y/N out. On a date.”

You cringed, covering your face with your hand. But your parent only chuckled. “Be home before eleven!”

Rodrick grinned, leaning closer to whisper. “Cool. Permission granted.”

You grabbed your bag, shutting the door behind you, and followed him toward the van. He opened the passenger door for you—it squeaked loudly, of course—but he held it steady until you climbed inside.

As he slid into the driver’s seat, Rodrick glanced at you, his grin softening just a little. “So, I was thinking… maybe pizza and arcade? Or, like… roller rink? Or we could just drive around blasting music. Dealer’s choice.”

You tilted your head at him, amused. “Did you actually plan a date, or are you winging it?”

Rodrick laughed, drumming his hands on the steering wheel. “I mean, do I ever plan anything? But don’t worry. Wherever we end up—it’ll be fun. ‘Cause it’s us.”

And with that, he turned the key, the van roaring to life, and pulled out of the driveway with music blasting and you by his side. The night was just beginning.