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“Are you sure about this?” Minerva asked yet again. Fiddling with her bag and glancing between the door, the clock and then back at him, and Sting rolled his eyes at her before stepping forward and shepherding her towards the door.
“Yes, for the umpteenth time, I am sure,” he ducked as she swatted him for her cheek and ignored her glare. “It’s not the first time I’ve closed up by myself, and I think I can handle these crowds,” he gestured around the glaringly empty coffee shop, and then at the rain that was coming down in droves outside, meaning that it was unlikely to get any busier in the last half hour. “Now go,” he made a shooing gesture, and Minerva hesitated for a moment longer before she nodded and smiled at him.
“I owe you.”
“I know, I’m keeping track,” Sting smirked at her, darting out of reach of any retribution as he headed towards the counter as she slipped out of the door. She had been talking about this date for the last week, and she wasn’t even supposed to be in today, but Kinana had called in sick, and there had been no one else to cover for her. He waved as she peered through the window, and then she was gone, leaving him to his own devices, and he sighed. He liked his job, but not these quiet moments, and he didn’t even have the thought of a date to get him through it he groused, before deciding not to think about his non-existent love life at the moment, or the empty flat waiting for him when he was finished. “Enough moping,” he slapped his cheeks, grinned to himself and went to turn the radio up.
*
Sting was singing under his breath as he cleaned down the counters, the radio on a lot louder than he usually would, and actual music and not the instrumental, mood music that Minerva preferred. He covered all the cakes, and stored them away in the fridge, marking off what they needed on the clipboard that would be left out for the bakery in the morning, his stomach rumbling as he worked. Ignoring it, he finished that and moved to clean the coffee machine as the radio started playing one of his favourite songs, and as the song swept along, his voice rose until he was belting out the lyrics as he worked. “It doesn’t make a difference if we make it or not, we’ve got each other….” At some point he’d grabbed a spoon, holding it as a microphone and he dropped it with a squeak when a voice rang out, clattering as he whirled around.
“Er…Hello?” Sting could feel the blush creeping across his face, even before he took in the startled expression on the man’s face and the clear question of whether he had made a mistake coming here or not.
“Sorry,” Sting said, flustered as he reached to turn down the radio nearly knocking it off in his hurry, the colour in his cheeks increasing as straightened. “I….” He honestly didn’t know what to say and swallowed before trying to salvage the situation. “What can I get you?” Now, that he was paying attention, he realised that it wasn’t one of their regulars – making his performance even more embarrassing, especially as he took in the half-smile on the attractive… wait what? He blinked and looked again, confirming what his mind had already told him, that the man was good looking, and even the fact that his long dark hair was plastered against him from being in the rain didn’t detract from it, and Sting’s mouth went dry.
“A latte to go, please…” The man had a pleasant voice too Sting noticed, and he nodded, not trusting himself to speak right then as he turned away to make the drink. Desperately searching for something witty to say, or even just something that would make it up for the scene the man had walked in on. How to make the worst first impression, he thought, hands moving on automatic as his mind raced, and his heart pounded in his chest. He could always talk to customers. Minerva had once asked him how he did it, always finding that common thread between him and the people coming in for a drink, and he’d said he just liked talking, and yet right now he had nothing. I am so off my game these days…
“So…Bon Jovi?”
Sting jolted, and glanced over his shoulder, trying not to blush again as he realised the man was leaning on the counter, watching him with a half-smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah,” he mumbled, looking down at the mug. “It’s just one of those songs you have to sing along with, and when you get going….”
“It takes on a life of its own?”
“Something like that,” Sting replied, finishing making the coffee and bringing it across. “Cinnamon?”
“Please.” Sting noted the enthusiasm and added a heavier than dusting than usual, knowing that he had got it right when it earned him a warm smile. He put the lid on and pushed it across, accepting the handful of change without checking. “Thank you, and maybe you’ll sing to me again someday,” the man added as he headed for a door, pausing with his hand on the handle. “After all, you have a nice voice…”
Sting was reasonably sure that he managed to stammer something along the lines of ‘thank you’, but there was a roaring sound in his ears as blood rushed to his face once more, drowning out the side of the door opening and closing as he stood there mouth open.
I…he…was he flirting?
When he eventually pulled himself together enough to put the money in the till he blinked as he found a card lying next to it. Lifting it, he realised that it was for the florists a few streets over. He’d never been in although he’d passed it a dozen times, and he vaguely remembered Laxus saying something about it after he’d had a falling out with Freed, but he’d never given it much thought. He flipped it over and started at the messy writing on the other side, his mind taking a moment to realise that it was a phone number and a name, and his brain short-circuited.
0xxxxxxxx Call me, Rogue
****
The weekend had passed, and Sting still didn’t know what to do. He hadn’t told Minerva about the man, or the card burning a hole in his pocket. Her date had been a success with another planned, and she was on cloud nine, which also meant her attention had switched to him, and trying to set him up on a date. In the past, he had gone along with it if nothing else she had impeccable taste and he always had a good night out of it, but he couldn’t forget the man…Rogue…or the number in his pocket, so he just grunted and nodded when she chatted at him, and kept his eyes on the door, half hoping that Rogue would come back and take the decision out of his hands.
“Are you even listening to me?” Minerva demanded as she set a tray down in front of him with a crash, startling him out of a daydream, and he blinked at her, ignoring Kinana giggling in the background.
“No…” He offered, and immediately ducked her swat. “Minerva!”
“I could be about to set you up with the ONE, and you’re ignoring me.”
“I’ve already met him…” Sting hadn’t meant to think it, let alone say it aloud and he honestly wasn’t sure which of them was more surprised. Shit, I didn’t mean to say that. I… As panicked and caught off guard as he was, he couldn’t bring himself to take it back even in his own mind, and he just stared at her, bright red and his heart pounding in his chest. “I…don’t suppose you’d forget I said that?” He asked eventually when she continued to stare at him, silently stepping out of the way as Kinana moved to serve the poor soul who had just walked into the middle of this. Sting shifted uneasily, waiting for the other shoe to drop, yet still caught off guard when Minerva reached out and grabbed him by the arm and hauled him away into the back with a look that told him this wasn’t up for negotiation.
“Who is he?” She demanded as soon as they were in relative privacy, continuing before he even had a chance to formulate a reply. “Where did you meet? When? And when were you going to tell me?”
“Okay, okay,” Sting pulled himself free, and held up his hands in surrender, realising that he wasn’t going to get out of this without telling her something. “He’s a customer, not a regular,” he added quickly, as she immediately tried to peer out front. “He came in the other night when I was closing alone…and caught me singing….”
“Again?”
“You like my singing,” Sting retorted, hesitating for a moment before reaching into his pocket where he had stashed the card at the start of his shift. “Apparently so did he, because he left me this…” He held it out, not sure what he was hoping for – an order to call Rogue? Advice? An excuse to chicken out? Minerva took the card, a smile that only promised trouble for him appearing as she read the number and note, eyebrows rising at the end before she flicked it over.
“I know him…” She said after a moment, and her expression was positively wicked when she looked up at him. “He works with Yukino.” Sting blinked and then blinked again.
“He works…”
“Yes,” Minerva nodded and held the card up between two fingers. “Have you called him?”
“N-no…”
“Were you going to?”
“Maybe…”
“Sting!” Minerva thrust the card into his chest, leaning forward so that there was no escape. “You’re going to call him right now; otherwise, I am going to tell Yukino that you’ve found your ‘ONE’.” He opened his mouth to protest, before promptly snapping it shut. It wasn’t an idle threat. The last time he’d been dithering about a date, she had set it up herself while he watched on red-faced and unable to speak, and there was a fire in her eyes that he hadn’t seen before. “Now,” she repeated, and weighing his options, Sting did the only thing he could and took the card back before heading for his locker.
“Are you going to stand there and watch me?” He asked, when he pulled out his phone and turned around to find her standing behind him, arms folded.
“Yes, just in case you chicken out again.”
“I hate you,” he muttered, both knowing he didn’t mean a word of it. He slowly punched in the number, eyes darting between the phone and her, but her gaze didn’t waver and grumbling under his breath, he hit dial and pressed the phone to his ear, pulling a face at her as it rang and rang and…
“Hello?”