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Emile was really starting to worry about the hot guy in the sunglasses. He’d been in the coffee shop since before the barista had gotten there 6 hours ago, and he still showed no signs of leaving. Every hour, he got up and ordered a Venti Double shot on ice. The store was about to close now, and they were the only two left, and he was actually vibrating, typing inhumanly fast on his laptop. Emile wasn’t sure he’d blinked once.
And he’d been watching. It was almost like he was a magnet and Emile was a paperclip; no matter what, he couldn't wrench his eyes away. The man’s voice made him forget his own name.
And also to ask for his name. Or to tell him he had to pay for the drinks. Looks like Emile was covering the costs tonight.
Not like the man would’ve listened anyway. When he wasn’t staring at his laptop he was glued to his phone, typing almost faster on the tiny screen than the keyboard. Emile was pretty sure he was only interacting with the outside world on autopilot.
Emile tore his eyes away from the man for a moment to check the time on his phone. 10:54 pm. They had about five minutes until the shop was supposed to close, and he showed absolutely no indications of slowing. Not only that, but he was still working his way through his sixth coffee.
Yeah, Emile was more than a bit worried. With a slight sigh, he began to pack up his things, starting to close up the shop as best he could while working around the other.
The man barely batted an eyelash as he began to put the chairs up onto the table, wiping down counters and putting dishes into the dishwasher.
So it was quite the shock when he shot to his feet and paced over to the counter with remarkable grace, seeing as his eyes stayed firmly on his phone screen.
“Venti Double Shot on the rocks? Thanks.”
Emile gaped at him, adjusting his glasses like his sight might be the problem. “You’re kidding.”
He merely clicked his tongue, not pausing his typing for a moment. “Never been more serious in my life, babe.”
“It’s eleven pm. You need to sleep at some point.”
“You’re sweet for the concern, hon, but not tonight. Don’t have time.”
Huffing, Emile leaned forward to get a better look at him. The sunglasses made him look composed, but his twitchiness ruined the effect. “That much caffeine isn’t healthy. You should take better care of yourself.”
The man just laughed dismissively, finally glancing up. “I should do a lot of things. But I live to disapp-” he cut off abruptly.
His mouth fell open.
His phone slipped out of his hands, skidding across the counter and landing forgotten at Emile’s feet.
“I- hold on- wait, have you been here all day?” he said quickly. Emile raised an eyebrow.
“I mean, not all day, but for while, yeah. Like… six hours?” he mused, trying to do the mental math.
Shaking his head slightly, the man whipped off his sunglasses, revealing two gorgeous hazel eyes rife with confusion and something akin to panic. Emile felt a small blush creep onto his face as the guy studied him.
“Well, why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”
Emile jumped away at the strange question. “Tell you what?”
“If I’d known that my barista was adorable as shit,” he said as if it were obvious, “I wouldn’t have needed so much coffee to stay awake! Jesus Christ, this is what I get for trying to be a responsible student.”
Emile felt his face heat up completely now. “Uh, what?”
But the man just kept rambling, talking at the speed of sound itself. “I told Logan, I told him if you dedicate yourself to work or whatever, you’re gonna miss all the good shit, but nooooooo. He goes ‘oh Remy, your paper is due in three days you should probably start it.’ Bullshit. I almost missed this for a fucking grade? No ma’am, no fucking ma’am.”
Emile was openly gaping at this point. He tried to respond, but before he could form the right words, he once again noticed how badly the man seemed to be shaking. “I- look, sir, I- I’m really flattered, but I think you’ve had way too much coffee. I’m still worried about you. You need to go home before you hurt yourself.”
The other just rolled his eyes. “Oh, honey, no. I cannot leave here without at least your name. This does not happen often enough for me to just leave because of ‘health.’”
“It’s- uh- it’s on my nametag?” he said, gesturing vaguely to his apron, puzzled.
Glancing down, the man’s eyes widened. “Oh my fuck, it is. How did I miss that?” he leaned in closer, so they were hardly an inch apart. “Emile. And that’s such an amazing name, too! God, what the hell? I swear I’m better at this usually; blame Logan for this mess. God, I’m going to kill him.”
Emile sighed. “Sir, I don’t know Logan. But, if it makes you feel better, next time I meet anyone named Logan, I’ll make sure to blame them. If you haven’t killed them yet.” He mumbled the last part. He hoped the man was kidding, but based on the way his eyes were darting around wildly, Emile couldn’t be too sure.
“Ok, no. No. Cut out that ‘sir’ business right now. I do not- I cannot- no. Unless you want me to have a heart attack, just call me Remy. Of course it’d be my luck that you work at the only Starbucks with decent WiFi. Any other day and your number would already be in my phone.” He chuckled meekly, then froze. “Shit. where did my phone go?”
“Well then, Remy. To be honest, by the looks of things, you’re going to have a heart attack either way. And here,” he started, bending over to grab the phone from off the floor. When he handed the phone over, he noticed Remy was sporting a new shade of red. “You dropped it, remember?”
“Shit,” he said. He stood there, frozen, blinky rapidly, for a good minute before repeating, “Shit.”
Emile just raised a confused eyebrow, taking Remy’s shaking hand in his own and pressing the phone into it. He held on for a moment, scared if he let go it would just fall to the floor again. “I- I don’t think I should let you drive home, Remy. It’s almost pitch black outside, and you look like you can barely even stay standing. You’re still shaking.”
Remy looked down at their hands, drawing his one free hand up and examining his trembling fingers like it was the first time he’d seen them. He then placed it over Emile’s and stared at the barista in wonder.
“Who the fuck let you be so cute?” he murmured quietly after a while, more to himself than anything. He sounded genuinely curious.
Emile wanted to bury his head in his hands and hide away from the world in embarrassment, but he wanted more than anything to continue holding Remy’s hands.
“I- I’m not- cute- I’m just honest. You wouldn’t be safe. We have about a minute until the shop closes, I think. Do you, uh, do you want me to drive you home? Or… you know… I could just call you an Uber or something…” he muttered, more flustered than was probably necessary.
“No!” Remy blurted, sounding focused for once before his eyes began to dart around again, from the hands to Emile’s face and back to the hands again. “No, uh, Uber doesn’t like me. Neither does Lyft, or anything else. I can sometimes be, uh, disruptive or whatever. I’ve also had some, uh, bad experiences with homophobic drivers.” His eyes locked on Emile’s and widened even further. “Oh god, are you even gay? Jesus, I did not just flirt with a straight guy. Fuck, I’m out of it.”
Emile giggled, pulling his hands away for a moment to cover his wide smile. This guy might be slightly insane, but he was nothing if not entertaining. “Don’t worry, you didn’t. I would have said something a while ago if I was uncomfortable. You’re sweet for asking, though.”
When Remy didn’t answer for a moment, Emile looked back up to see him red as a tomato, muttering silently to himself and staring at where his hands were still outstretched.
“Alright Rem, let's get you home. My shift is over,” he laughed softly. He slipped out from behind the counter, tentatively taking Remy’s hand in his own once more, scared the man would tip over if he didn’t steady him. Remy smiled, latching on tighter. “My car is this way.”
He led him out of the door, grabbing the laptop and locking up shop on their way out.
Remy was quiet on the way to the car, which was almost scarier than his frantic ramblings. “Are you okay?” Emile asked. He didn’t answer, just slid into the car.
Emile tried again. “Where do you live?”
Nothing.
He sighed. “If you’re not going to answer, I’m going to have to take you back to my place. Is that ok?”
Remy nodded absently, eyes flickering wildly but not uncomfortably around the car. Despite his jittery movements, Emile couldn’t help but marvel at his unwavering sense of calm. He might have been a bit freaked out in the cafe, but even then he had an air to him, something that told you he knew what he was doing.
And currently, most of what he was doing was making Emile’s heart try to leap out of his chest.
Emile sighed. Remy was the kind of guy to flirt on instinct. He couldn’t count on anything that came out of his mouth to be real. Sighing, he turned the key and drove out of the parking lot.
“So- uh- Remy…” Emile started, trying desperately to fill the silence. “What was the paper that you were writing about? It- uh- it must have been… interesting…”
“Who fucking cares about that damn paper, I just realized I don’t think I paid for a single thing in that shop, my wallet is literally still full. I should be bankrupt. Please tell me you just have a free coffee on Fridays policy and I didn’t accidentally rob you?” he begged, looking panicked.
Emile just smiled, looking over at him. “Don’t worry. I- well, I paid. You looked stressed enough as it was, and I didn’t want to add to that.”
Remy groaned loudly. “Well now I’m fucking stressed! Did you actually- Jesus Christ…” he muttered, trailing off.
“I- I’m sorry.”
“Why the fuck are you apologizing for being the sweetest human being I’ve ever met?! Why are you being nice to me?! I’m a bitch! That’s the whole point of me!”
“Remy, please. Just breathe.” Emile said gently.
“And why, pray tell, would I do that?! I’m used to guys either flirting back with me or just walking away, but you literally bought me dinner before I had even noticed you standing there!”
“Rem, it wasn’t dinner, it was just coffee.”
“Bitch, have you not been watching this entire thing? Coffee is my fucking dinner!”
“Remy.” Emile said sternly. The man immediately stiffened, biting his lip to keep from talking. “I wanted to, okay? You don’t have to read so far into it. It was just… the right thing to do. I can turn around and bring you to your house if you’re uncomfortable.”
Remy blanched. “God, no. Do you know how Logan gets when someone’s procrastinating?”
“Like I said, I don’t know Logan-”
“He would literally murder me. And then bring me back to finish my paper and kill me again.”
Emile’s eyes widened. “Okay, yeah. Let’s not do that, then. My house is just up ahead.”
They drove in silence for a few more minutes, Remy looking like his brain was working at a thousand miles a minute. When they arrived, Emile helped Remy out of the car, leading him carefully into the small house and switching on the lights.
“Welcome home. Well, for tonight, at least.”
When Remy didn’t respond, he looked back to see him staring, slack-jawed, at the living room. Emile surveyed the scene himself, trying to imagine what he could possibly be surprised at.
The room was small, but every nook and cranny was bursting with colour and cartoon memorabilia. The walls were a bright blue, covered nearly head to toe with posters, signed and unsigned, ranging from Steven Universe to Gravity Falls to Avatar the Last Airbender. One wall held a bookshelf sporting equal parts psychology textbooks and pop figurines. The television sat atop a cabinet filled with dvds of Disney movies and 90s cartoon compilations. Even the sofa was a pastel pink like something out of Fairly Odd Parents.
“All of this,” Remy said, thoroughly awed, “and you work at a coffee shop?”
Emile blushed. “Only on my off days. I’m also a therapist, but I don’t have all that many patients yet, so I’m helping a friend out. Pat’s having staffing issues, and I need money anyway, so…” he trailed off, taking a step closer to Remy as he continued to gape at the small room. “Are you okay?”
“I seriously need to talk to your manager,” he muttered, cracking a smile for the first time since they left the cafe. “I don’t think it’s legal to be this fucking adorable.”
Emile felt his face heat up further, practically melting on the spot. He hesitated for a few moments, trying to find the right words, but they never came. “A-anyway,” he said finally. “My room is upstairs if you wanna head there. I can just sleep here.” he murmured, gesturing to the couch.
Remy bit his lip. “What’s wrong with your bed?”
Emile started. “Uh, nothing. Just… you’ll be in it.”
“And?”
“And there’s plenty of space on the couch.”
“And?”
Sighing, Emile looked away. Why did he have to be such a good flirt? Why did he have to do this so late at night?
Why did he have to be so unbearably hot?
“Follow me,” he mumbled, rushing up the stairs before Remy could see just how much he was blushing.
His room looked about the same as the living room, but with more books and action figures and purple walls instead of blue. The bed took up most of the space, covered in pillows and plushies and a soft yellow bedspread. Hastily, Emile scooped up the stuffed animals and set them down on a pink beanbag. Remy watched him with something close to amusement, already having plopped down on the bed.
“What’s wrong? Do you not trust me with your little friends?” he teased, grinning wider when Emile couldn’t quite keep his glare straight. “I’m great with kids, you know.”
Emile finally cracked a smile. “Somehow, I doubt that. But it’s not that; you can’t exactly sleep all that well with so much stuff on the bed.”
"Don't worry about it, babe. It's pretty sweet, honestly. I expected nothing less at this point."
Remy leaned backwards, resting casually against the pillows and looking absent-mindedly around the room. He might’ve even come off as coy if it weren’t for his shaky hands and tapping feet.
“I think I’d better get you a cool down. I’ll be right back, ok?”
“I’ll be here.”
After a moment’s assessment, Emile determined that he’d be fine, at least for a few minutes. Nodding, he backed out of the room and practically sprinted into the kitchen.
He filled the tea kettle and set it to boil, then pulled out two cups and a box of calming jasmine tea. As the kettle slowly got louder, he sat back and immersed himself in thought.
He was, for lack of a better term, freaking out. The past few minutes had been such a blur that he had hardly recognized what was occurring as it did. However, now that he was alone, everything that had happened was starting to sink in.
He swallowed hard. The most attractive guy Emile had ever met was sitting casually on his bed upstairs, and at some point or another, he would have to join him.
Yep, he was done for. There was absolutely no way he could keep himself together. He wasn’t sure if it was the stress talking, or maybe his head was clearer from the lack of leather-jacket wearing distractions around, but in an instant, all of Remy’s flirtatious comments hit him in full force. Emile tried to remind himself of how hyper-caffeinated Remy was, trying to stop his thoughts before they could get any more optimistic than they had to be. Still, there was a voice in the back of his head that seemed hell-bent on getting his hopes up. A voice that told him it didn’t matter how much coffee Remy had consumed, caffeine didn’t just change the way people saw things. Remy had said he was attracted to him. He had called him cute.
Remy had called him cute.
He could tell the man was probably a flirt by nature, but something about the way he flustered himself easily seemed much more real than a casual tease.
Emile shook his head as the kettle dinged behind him, interrupting his spiraling thoughts. He needed to calm down. He was overanalyzing. It was a helpful tactic when dealing with his clients and trying to make them feel better, but in this instance, he knew all it would bring him was heartache.
Remy was stressed and tired from having over-worked himself for too long. Maybe he did think Emile was cute, but that didn’t mean anything. A combination of the overexertion on his paper and the copious amounts of caffeine had probably just made it much harder for the man to put on a filter. He was over exaggerating his feelings.
Tomorrow he would wake up, well rested, and apologize for how he acted, and tell him it meant nothing. That he was just overwhelmed. And Emile would be fine with that, because he had prepared himself. Right?
He sighed softly as he poured the boiling water into the cups, trying to let the smell calm him. At this point, he needed a stress reliever about as much as Remy did.
He grabbed the two cups, walking carefully up the stairs and back into his bedroom. Soon enough, his guest would be asleep, and he could fall asleep to Danny Phantom and forget all about this.
But when he opened his bedroom door, Remy was once again typing fervently on his computer like nothing had changed. When Emile cautiously handed him the steaming cup, he downed it immediately without even flinching. That couldn’t be healthy.
“Oh my god, Remy?” he sighed. “You seriously need sleep. Can you please put the laptop down? I promise it’ll be there in the morning.”
To his mounting frustration, Remy just shook his head. “Look, hon, I’d love to, but I really can’t. No cute guy is worth Logan killing me tomorrow.”
“Seriously, I’m a doctor. This isn’t good for any part of you. And I will take away your laptop to get you to sleep.”
“Sweet of you, but I could just use my phone.”
“Then I’ll take your phone too.”
“I think I could have you arrested for kidnapping if you did that.”
Emile huffed. “What’s the worst Logan could do? Not murder, if you’re so concerned about the law.”
Remy finally looked up, just for a second. “Well, that’s different. He can legally kidnap me. And deprive me of coffee. And no offence, but you seem a bit too nice to do either.”
“Legally… kidnap… what is he, your dad?” Something clicked in his brain, and a little bit of hope died inside of him. “Your boyfriend?”
His heart sank into his stomach as he pictured Remy with someone else, hugging them tightly, laughing freely, in love.
He knew it was stupid. He hardly knew the guy, and he felt awful for thinking so selfishly. He should be happy that Remy was happy. He should be glad he had found someone who deserved him.
But deep down, he knew the truth. He wished it were him.
His thoughts were interrupted by a wheeze, which soon turned into chuckles and finally full out cackles. He watched in shock and confusion as Remy doubled over, clutching his laptop to his chest.
“Oh honey,” he laughed, still gasping for breath. “Oh my god, that is the funniest thing- honey, no. Absolutely not. No, he’s just my roommate. Who also occasionally doubles as a very frightening planner. Your concern is very adorable, though. I’m glad you find it so scary to think the guy you brought home might not be single. Clears up a lot.”
Blushing, Emile straightened. “That’s not what I- oh, shut up.”
“Make me.”
Emile startled; that wasn’t at all what he’d expected. But the tea and the sudden shock of his assumption had worked its magic, and he wasn’t sure he could blame Remy’s actions on caffeine anymore. That was as blatant an invitation as one could get.
In fact, it gave him an idea.
He took a step forward, a sly grin slipping onto his face. “Maybe I will.”
Remy’s eyes widened, and he seemingly choked on air. “I’m sorry, what?”
Emile sat down next to him, setting his tea down on the bedside table. “You heard me. And you are so very pretty. It’d be a shame to waste all that charm on a Friday night, wouldn’t it?”
Remy looked stunned to silence, his jaw hanging open in shock. “Where- where did that come from?!”
“Aw, what’s wrong, Rem? You can dish it but you can’t take it?” He laid a light hand on Remy’s upper thigh. “Why so chaste all of the sudden?”
Still slack jawed, Remy muttered, “This feels like a trap.”
Emile smiled. “The only thing trapped here is your heart, babe. Why don’t we go ahead and set it free?”
“I- uh- yeah, okay. For sure, Totally. Lets… yep. Yes sir.” He practically tossed aside his laptop, sliding it behind him.
Emile slid into his lap, cupping Remy’s chin in one hand. “Aren’t you cute when you’re flustered?”
Remy bit his lip, and Emile’s hand traveled to his neck, pulling him closer. Eyes closing, Remy tilted his head.
Emile took his opportunity. He ducked away from the beautiful man’s lips, reaching past him and grabbing the laptop.
Remy made a small noise of protest as Emile slid off of his lap and stood triumphantly next to the bed, holding the laptop as if it were a trophy he had won.
"You little-" Remy started, and Emile cut him off with a giggle.
"Sorry, Remy! I've said it before and I'll say it again. You. Need. To. Sleep. And as much I want to, I do not trust you. I know the second I turned my back on you for even a second, you'd go right back to your work. I have a responsibility."
He scoffed indignantly. “Wow. You are such a tease. You can’t just do that and give me absolutely nothing.”
“If it’s between that and a solid 8 hours of rest, I very much can. Who knows?” He slipped on a seductive smile again. “Maybe if you sleep for long enough, you’ll get something in the morning.”
Remy’s cheeks went hot again. “Ok, that is just cruel. Do you want me to get murdered?”
“If Logan wants to murder you, he’s gonna have to go through me. Now, will you go to sleep?”
At that, Remy finally cracked a smile. “You know I’m just gonna fake sleep and wait til you pass out, right?”
“And you did hear me when I said I’m a psychologist? I know how people sleep. Also, that tea is powerful enough to make a bull drowsy. You’re not gonna win this one, Rem. Just accept defeat so we can both get some rest, please? For me?”
Remy glared at him, already stifling a yawn. “You are so lucky you’re cute. Fine! But it won’t do you any good to just stand there. Come on.”
Emile raised an eyebrow, turning away quickly as Remy threw off his jacket and began to take off his shirt. “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me,” he called, a playful lilt in his voice. “Cuddle with me, babe.”
Emile’s eyes widened. “What?”
Remy sighed. “Turn around, for god’s sake. I’m not trying to ruin your adorable innocence. We both know you’re sleeping in here, and this is a small bed. All I’m saying. Besides, I know I’ll sleep a lot better with you next to me.”
Stiffening, Emile glanced back, grateful to see Remy in a tank top and boxers. Out of all of the ways he’d pictured this night going, this wasn’t one of them. Remy looked genuinely earnest, like he wanted nothing more than to be in Emile’s arms again. And honestly, Emile couldn’t even try to convince himself he didn’t want exactly the same.
“I mean,” he murmured, feeling his face heat up, “if it’ll help you sleep.”
Remy beamed. “It will. It really will.”
Emile smiled, sliding off his shirt and replacing it with a tank top of his own. When he turned back around, he found Remy already under the covers, smiling warmly at him. He made his way to the other side of the bed and pulled the covers nearly completely over his head. Remy sighed contentedly, reaching over and turning off the lamp that illuminated the room. Then, he closed the gap between them. Not in a kiss. Not even romantically. Remy curled up against him like a cat, and Emile draped a hesitant arm over his torso. He was warm, and so was Remy, and it was a strange sort of comfortable Emile hadn’t felt in a while.
It wasn’t long before Remy’s breath slowed, his chest rising and falling against Emile’s arm, and he knew he was asleep. Remy’s peacefulness was uncanny and blissful. Emile wanted nothing more than to stay here forever.
It wasn’t long before he himself started to drift off, falling asleep to the dual sounds of their matched breathing.
When Remy woke up, he was alone.
That in itself wasn’t all that surprising. Though he loved to flatter, he wasn’t in the habit of sleeping around. He woke up alone most every Saturday, given that Logan had no reason to shake him awake early on the weekends.
What was surprising was that this bed wasn’t his. And he certainly hadn’t gone out drinking last night. He had a term paper due Monday.
Was Logan fucking with him? Was this some sort of weird brain experiment of his designed to confuse him into writing his paper?
But the bed was cozy and warm, and the room was a sweet little place, far beyond Logan’s abilities or tastes for design, and far out of his budget.
His eyes landed on a beanbag that could’ve come right from Logan’s boyfriend’s flat. It was a fuzzy pastel pink and fit in nice with the purples and yellows of the rest of the room, and it was piled up with the most stuffed animals Remy had ever seen, everything from Stitch to Winnie the Pooh and tons that he couldn’t even name.
He shot upright, nearly falling out of the bed.
Emile’s bed.
Emile’s room, Emile’s beanbag, Emile’s adorable stuffed animal collection, Emile’s pinks and purples and yellows. Emile’s left over warmth next to him.
Emile, who wasn’t there.
Remy took a deep breath in, trying to steady his racing heart. This was clearly Emile’s house, so it's not like he could have gone far, right?
Grabbing his phone, he checked the time. It was nearly noon. No wonder Emile had already woken up. Usually, Remy would’ve woken hours ago or never gone to sleep at all. Maybe it was the tea, maybe the mental exhaustion from writing all day. Or maybe it was Emile’s soft arms around him, soothing him into unconsciousness. Maybe it was all three.
Whatever the reason, it was the best night of sleep he’d gotten in years.
He had four new messages from Logan.
Teach (1:37 AM): Where are you?
Teach (1:45 AM): Starbucks isn’t open this late. Why aren’t you responding?
Teach (1:55 AM): Remy, I was exaggerating when I said you weren’t to come home until you’d finished. You’re making me nervous.
Teach (2:01 AM): I at least hope that, wherever you are, you’re getting an adequate amount of rest. In this case, mental health is more important than your work.
Remy stared at that last text for longer than was probably necessary. Logan was telling him this now?
Still, his concern was sweet. Or maybe he was too well rested to be properly annoyed. Sighing, he shot a quick text back.
Bitch™ (11:47 AM): I’m fine nerd. ye I slept. can u pick me up?
Remy waited for a minute, staring at his phone, but a response was nowhere to be found. Slightly annoyed, he set his phone on the bed next to him, standing up and stretching.
Tentatively, he opened the bedroom door, looking around.
He heard Emile before he saw him.
“If I could begin to do
Something that does right by you
I would do about anything
I could even learn how to love like you.”
Emile’s voice was somehow even sweeter than Remy remembered it being, and he sounded so utterly happy singing along to whatever he was listening to, that he couldn’t help but smile.
He followed the beautiful melody to the kitchen, and his jaw dropped.
There was Emile, standing in front of the stove in a powder blue apron, looking absolutely gorgeous with his unkempt hair and crooked glasses that were nearly falling off the bridge of his nose. He hadn’t noticed Remy in the doorway yet, and he was still singing along with the song, wearing a smile brighter than the sun. In the brighter light of the morning, Remy could see a few streaks of pink in his hair. Because he wasn’t already cute enough. Because Remy wasn’t already close to fainting from the sheer wholesomeness of this scene.
As the song came to an end, Emile flipped a pancake and twirled around to toss it onto a plate already towering with them. He caught Remy’s eye and beamed, bending over to pause his music. “Morning, Remy! How are you feeling?”
Remy hesitated. He had expected Emile to be at least a little bit caught off guard by being interrupted, but instead, he somehow looked twice as happy as before.
“I- I’m a lot better now. Thanks for everything you did yesterday. I’m, uh, sorry I was so…. you know,” he said, not really sure if he knew.
But Emile just waved him off, pouring more batter onto the pan. “Don’t worry about it! Nothing a little tea can’t fix. And it was pretty fun.”
Remy furrowed his brow, taking a step forward and watching Emile sprinkle blueberries into the pancake. “Fun?”
“Well, yeah! You’re fun to talk to, especially when you were super hyper like that. I’m glad you’re better now, though.”
“Uh, y-yeah. Me too.” He cleared his throat, feeling suddenly shy. “I, uh, texted my friend. He’s gonna come pick me up, I guess.”
Emile laughed. “Logan? Is he done trying to kill you yet?”
Remy finally cracked a smile. Emile’s euphoria was contagious. “I’m honestly not sure. He sounded kinda pissed that I didn’t come home.”
“Naturally. Well, will you stay for breakfast at least? I’d hate for you to die on an empty stomach.”
Laughing, Remy brought the plate of pancakes over to him so he could flip another one on top of the stack. “I can’t exactly say no to that, now, can I?”
Emile seemed almost surprised to find him trying to help, and the slight crinkling of his forehead was enough for his glasses to slip off of his nose. Jumping, Remy reached up and pushed them back into place. Emile blushed, mumbling off a small thank you before spinning back around to the stove.
Remy raised an eyebrow. It was such a strange contrast to last night, which honestly made him wonder which one was real.
“Hey, Em?”
“Mhm?”
“About last night… you were kidding, right? About the whole… flirting thing?”
Emile stiffened, and Remy immediately backed up, all too aware of the millions of lines he’d just crossed. “I mean, not that it matters, obviously. I’m just curious. Was it- was it a joke, or-”
“Do you want it to be?”
Remy froze. “What?”
When Emile finally sighed and turned around, his face was blank. “I said, do you want it to be just a joke?”
For a moment, Remy almost wanted to deny it. He never really liked opening up, especially not so soon after meeting. But Emile was different. Emile was… perfect. And fuck if he was going to let that go just for the sake of an appearance.
“Of course not! Em, you flirting with me was the best thing that’s happened in… well, forever. I just- I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Nothing I said was a joke, either. You’re just… you’re so sweet, and cute, and I didn’t wanna ruin that with being too- well, me, I guess.”
Emile’s expression softened. “Remy-”
“Wait! Just wait just a second before you tell me it actually was a joke and I feel like an idiot, please. I’m not done yet. Because you are the absolute nicest person I’ve ever met and I’m so glad that you work at the only Starbucks with decent WiFi and honestly if Logan murders me the second he sees me I can’t even say I’d regret it because it’s still the reason I met you. I just… I can’t just leave here without saying that. Thanks for not letting me drive home, and for… well, just about every moment after.”
Emile stared at him in shock. Seconds passed, each one feeling like an hour.
“That was it,” Remy mumbled. “You can yell at me now. Or say something. God, please just say something.”
Emile didn’t say something.
Instead, he reached up, and took Remy’s face in his hand, and before Remy knew what was happening, he’d pulled him into a kiss.
It all happened so fast that Remy barely had time to savour the burst of adrenaline, the rush of euphoria, the sudden realisation that this was everything he’d ever wanted, before Emile was pulling away again, looking absolutely horrified.
“I am so sorry, that wasn’t right, I just… the way you were talking, it sounded like you wouldn’t believe me if I didn’t just show you, and god, I don’t regret it. I mean, obviously I regret the not asking part, but…” he trailed off, noticing Remy’s dazed look. “What? What’s wrong? Did I misinterpret something?”
“No! No, you’re… perfect. Really. It was just- unexpected. Not that I’m complaining! Not at all. In fact, it’s the opposite, honestly. Y- yeah. Wait, so does that mean you-”
“I was serious. Absolutely serious. I really like you, Remy. I know it’s sorta silly, because I’ve known you for less than a day, but it’s true. I like you.”
Remy let out a shaky breath. “I… I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear that.”
Emile smiled, reaching up to wrap his arms around Remy’s neck and pulling him down.
Their lips met.
Remy melted into it, not making the same mistake twice, savoring every moment. Emile tasted like pancake batter and blueberries, and his pink hair was softer than he could ever have imagined as he ran his hands through it.
The sound of a phone ringing echoed through the kitchen. Remy groaned as he reluctantly pulled away, taking his phone out of his pocket.
“Sorry, I have to take this. It’s Logan.”
Emile only giggled, taking a step back.
“What do you want, Lo? I’m kinda in the middle of something.”
“Where. Are. You. I have been searching every Starbucks in this city for you, and you are nowhere to be found! I left Patton’s house for this, Remy.”
Remy stifled a laugh as he pictured Logan wandering aimlessly through every coffee shop he could find, completely clueless. “Yeah, uh, I guess I kinda forgot to elaborate on where I was. And about that… yeah, you don’t actually have to come get me. I’m doing great where I am,” Remy said softly, stealing a glance at Emile.
“Are you kidding me!? Remy, I swear, I am going to murder you.”
“Figuratively, right Logan?” Remy teased.
“Not in the slightest.”
Remy faced Emile once more. “Told you so.”
Emile beamed, stepping forward and gently taking the phone out of Remy’s hand. “May I?”
Remy nodded, unable to deny Emile when he looked so utterly happy.
“Hi, Logan! This is Remy’s boyfriend, and I just wanted to let you know that he’s okay here with me! Also, I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t kill him.”
“I- boyfriend? I’ve never heard mention of a boyfriend before, how new is this? Remy, what the hell happened last night?”
Remy shot Emile a doting look. “Well, I certainly didn’t finish my paper.”