Chapter Text
Luigi scrutinizes the brick building in front of him. When Peach asked to meet him at a coffee shop to catch up, he hadn’t exactly been expecting… this.
It’s a squat building compared to the others on the street, rising to maybe half the height of the building bracketing either side of it. The exterior is obviously brick, but it has been painted over in a soft, pastel purple. A large, flashing sign hangs in the window, proclaiming, Waluigi's Cafe in a harsh shade of yellow. Sitting in front the bay window is a small scattering of patio tables and chairs.
At one of the tables sits a young blonde woman, nose buried in her phone. Her ponytail hangs over her eyes and blocks most of her face. Luigi doesn’t have to see her face to know that it’s exactly who he came here to see; Peach’s exclusively pink outfits always give up her identity at first glance.
The crossing signal switches to walk, and Luigi is instantly bounding across the road towards his lifelong friend.
Peach raises her eyes to scan her surroundings, and it doesn’t take long for her to spot Luigi among the thin crowd. Her lips stretch into a grin. As soon as Luigi is within an arm’s length, she sweeps him into her arms in greeting.
They pull apart from each other. Still smiling, Peach’s hands begin to move.
“I’ve been waiting here for so long, you jerk!” she signs, but the anger doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
Luigi wills his face to look more apologetic than he actually is (he can’t count how many times Peach had left him waiting before lunch dates and class meetings back in high school, and they both know it). “I’m sorry! I got hung up at work.”
Peach rolls her eyes. “Right. I forgot the noble job of a plumber can be so demanding.”
“I have something to tell you about that, actually,” Luigi signs, sheepish. “Let’s go in. I’ll tell you after we get our coffee.”
Quirking an eyebrow, Peach lets herself be herded into the coffee shop and into their place at the back of the line without protest.
Luigi studies the menu a little too closely to be normal. He knows he’s being obvious; he’s always been awful at keeping secrets from Peach, even if it’s just for a moment. She’s always had a way of getting under his skin and into his mind with a single look.
A few moments later, Peach nudges Luigi with her elbow. He tears his eyes away from the espresso menu to meet her gaze.
“Do you see the cashier?” she signs.
Luigi furrows his brows, shaking his head. “No. Why?”
Peach presses her lips together and shrugs. “No reason.” She glances back at the menu. “Will you order me a hot chocolate with caramel syrup? I’m going to head to the restroom. Thanks!”
Before Luigi has time to stop her, Peach has darted off towards the bathrooms on the complete other side of the shop. Luigi frowns at the empty space she has left beside him and distantly wonders how he ended up with the best friend that he did.
Luigi is only broken from his momentary stupor by the soft sound of someone clearing their throat. He jumps, turning back towards the front of the line. Which has completely depleted since in the few moments it’s been since Peach’s dramatic exit.
Blushing, Luigi steps closer to the counter. His eyes frantically return to the menu board, realizing that he had been staring at it for a few minutes without actually ever deciding on what he wanted to order. “Sorry,” he says. “I zoned out a little there.”
The laugh he receives in return is full, and it makes him take pause. “You’re totally fine,” the cashier says. “Happens to the best of us.”
Luigi lets his eyes drift down from the board to finally take in the cashier. It only takes one look for Luigi to completely lose his ability to function.
The man behind the counter is staggeringly tall; of course, Luigi is a pretty short guy in the first place, but this man would probably be a giant by normal standards, anyway. He’s a bit on the lankier side, with long, gangly limbs and sharp joints to go with them. His shoulders are tight and drawn closer to his jaw than they probably should be. And, speaking of his jaw, jesus christ. Luigi has never seen a more distinct (or more attractive, to be honest) jawline in his life. A thin mustache takes up residence just below the man’s hooked nose. Dark circles fill in the space underneath his eyes.
“Um…” the man says, sheepish.
Luigi wheezes.
(It probably doesn’t help that the shop colors -- dark purple layered underneath a shade closer to lilac -- look so damn good on this man; Luigi has always been a sucker for aesthetically pleasing color schemes, but he’s never quite liked purple as much as he does right now.)
“Do you need help deciding? Or--”
“No!” Luigi finally regains his voice. “No, sorry. It’s… I guess it’s just one of those days.” The sound he makes is more of a cough than the chuckle it is supposed to be. “Anyway, uh, could I just have an americano and… a hot chocolate? With caramel sauce?”
The man’s face relaxes into a smirk. “Of course. Is that all?”
And an inhaler, Luigi thinks as he swallows around the lump in his throat. “Yep. That’ll be it.”
The man punches a few buttons on the cash register and rattles off the total. As Luigi fishes a few bills out of his wallet, he hears the man sputter a laugh.
At Luigi’s curious look, the man’s blush only grows darker. “Sorry, it’s just… your friend, I guess? She’s making some pretty great faces at you.” He takes the money from him, jerking his head towards the back of the cafe.
Sure enough, there Peach is, waggling the hell out of her eyebrows and throwing a few ludicrous winks towards the two of them. Luigi feels his face heat up.
“I am so sorry,” he huffs, his voice tinted with laughter. “I really can’t take her anywhere.”
The man shrugs, handing over his change. “It’s fine. I have a best friend, too; I completely understand.”
Luigi smiles.
“Well, have a nice day,” the man says. Luigi nods, stuffing his change in the tip jar without a second thought.
“You too.”
Luigi wastes no time scurrying to where Peach has nestled into a booth, still making an ass of herself. He swats at her. “Are you serious?”
Peach doesn’t even respond, really; she just spends a completely too-long stretch of time laughing her ass off and wiping tears away from the corners of her eyes. Luigi doesn’t even try to talk to her until both of their drinks have been called.
Even then, she’s just laughing into her mug of hot chocolate.
“Will you quit that?” Luigi signs, his frustration turning from joking serious. Americanos don’t taste quite as good when the hot cashier guy keeps glancing over at you because of your best friends excessive snorting.
Peach frowns, still biting back giggles. “Whatever, lover boy.”
“What is that supposed to mean? I just ordered a coffee from the guy; I didn’t propose to him.” Luigi sees the man not-so-secretly staring at them from behind the counter and bites his tongue to distract himself.
“Right,” Peach signs, smirking. “Because you guys didn’t have huge boners for each other --”
“Oh my god!” falls from Luigi’s mouth before he even realizes it. He scans the area around them, but the only person he catches watching them is the man behind the counter again. He blushes, returning to wiping down the counter and resolutely not looking at the duo. Luigi rights himself and signs, “Peach, what the hell? You can’t just say that kind of stuff. We’re in public.”
Peach rolls her eyes. “Because you were both so discreet when you were talking to each other.” She levels him with a strong glare. “I couldn’t hear a thing you were saying, and I could tell that you were making a dick of yourself.”
Luigi did not come here to be called out like this.
He signs as much to Peach, who scoffs and slaps her hands together. “Whatever. Didn’t you say you had something to tell me?”
Oh, right, Luigi thinks. He did have something to tell her. He wonders for a moment if obsessing over him blubbering at Attractive Coffee Guy would be less stressful than what he wanted to talk about.
“Right,” Luigi signs. “I. Well. It’s not a big deal.”
Peach lifts one perfectly shaped eyebrow, challenging. “Sure. Not a big deal.” Her fingers practically drip with sarcasm.
“It isn’t,” he swears. “It’s a big change, but it’s not a big deal.”
He sucks in a steadying breath, still under Peach’s watchful (and kind of judgemental) eye.
“I was late this morning because…” He pauses until Peach prods him with a single pastel fingernail. “I quit my job.”
Peach’s eyes grow. “Are you serious?”
At Luigi’s hesitant nod, she clambers to her feet and crawls directly onto him, wrapping her arms around his head and squishing it into her shoulder. He laughs against her shirt and lets himself be coddled for a moment before she drags his head back to smack a wet kiss onto his forehead.
“Beautiful!” she signs, hands moving rapidly. “Perfect! Wonderful! I’m so proud!”
He pushes her off of his lap, biting his lip to keep his giddy laughter at bay. “Yeah, yeah.”
“Really! I can’t believe you actually did it!”
Luigi shrugs. “I was just sick of it,” he signs. “I couldn’t take it anymore. I was bored.”
“As you should have been”. Peach shoves at his shoulder. “Do you know how awful it was to see you suffering in that stupid plumber job when you have so much talent and passion for literally everything that isn’t plumbing?”
“Oh, shut up.”
“I’m serious! You’re going to pursue art, right? You didn’t quit to become a lawyer or something, right?”
Luigi nods. “Yeah. I mean, I’m probably going to have to pick up some kind of part time job to pay bills and stuff, but I’m going to try to focus on art.”
Peach’s grin is probably taking up half of her face at this point. She smacks another kiss to his hairline, but this time it’s mostly just her pressing her smile to his skin. “I’m so happy for you,” she signs. “You’re going to be such a great artist.”
“If I don’t end up homeless and starving,” he signs.
“Oh, shut up. You’ll be living in my spare bedroom before you’re on the streets, dumbass.”
Luigi bites his lip. He feels a lot of ecstatic energy building up in his chest and threatening to spill over; he had been pretty sure that Peach would support his life change, but it was never a sure thing with her. She was logical most of the time, but her idealistic side had a tendency to shine through when it came to passions. (Of course it did. Peach, herself, had dreams of opening her own beauty shop one day. With as many times as her own teachers and parents had warned her of the less rewarding possible outcomes of that particular profession, she was bound to build up a kind of spiteful idealism.)
He reaches out and shoves her shoulder. “You jerk.”
“Yeah, whatever. I love you, too.”