Work Text:
“So... I heard you like bad boys.”
Joe practiced the line in front of a mirror without conviction, feeling silly. It didn't feel quite right. He stared at his reflection wondering how he let Andy, Quỳnh and Nile convince him this would work. Asking someone out was stressful enough and now he had to do it while wearing —ridiculously tight— torn jeans, a shirt that might as well be painted on him, heavy biker boots, and a leather jacket. He sighed.
He didn’t remember feeling anything like this before. Sure, he’d seen attractive men before, he’d dated them but he, the guy that had just started coming to the coffee shop across from Joe’s studio, he was nothing short of breathtaking. He was the reason for all this turmoil. Joe ran a hand through his curls and recalled seeing him for the first time.
It had been a hot afternoon two weeks ago. Joe went to the coffee shop more to clear his head than because he really wanted coffee. Nile was talking to him, at least Joe thinks she was, but the minute he had spotted the man sitting by himself, reading, Joe’s brain had shut out everything else. He thought he’d been discrete but Nile had noticed. She was quick to tell Andy and Quỳnh and they’d taken turns going to the coffee shop with Joe to try and find the gorgeous stranger again.
The day the man actually looked up from his book, no doubt feeling observed, and smiled at Joe well, Joe thanked his luck he hadn’t embarrassed himself though he did leave the coffee shop in a hurry, dragging Quỳnh along. Joe didn’t even try to deny how he felt, it was pointless what with him sketching the man’s profile and writing poems about his eyes.
“You need to get yourself some of that, Joe,” Quỳnh had declared. “And by the looks of it, he needs it, too.” She pinched his cheek playfully. “I bet he likes bad boys.”
Where she’d got that idea was anyone’s guess but Andy and Nile supported the theory and now here he was, feeling like he was about to put on a show. Well, he would catch his eye for sure. Joe could only hope it was for the right reasons. He took one last look in the mirror, grabbed his sunglasses, pocketed his phone, wallet, keys, and a slightly crumpled paper and headed out.
When he got to the coffee shop, Joe made a beeline for the man’s usual table. There he was, reading as usual. He looked up at Joe. Likely, because his boots made too much noise or because he was casting a shadow over his book. If either of those things bothered him, the stranger didn’t show it, he smiled at Joe warmly.
“Hi,” the stranger said.
Joe’s resolve faltered, he was supposed to talk first. He went for it. “So… I heard you like bad boys.”
The stranger smirked and shook his head. “Not really, no.”
“Oh, thank goodness!” Joe smiled, starting to feel more like himself. “Can I sit down? I’m Joe, by the way.”
“Please.” Nicky closed his book and gestured to the chair in front of him. “I’m Nicky.”
Joe sat down, grateful that he could drop the act. “I swear I don’t dress like this every day, I just…”
“I know,” Nicky interrupted him. “I’ve seen you every day, I wondered if I should just try to talk to you but you’re always here with a friend, I didn’t want to intrude.”
Joe rolled his eyes. “I wish I’d known that, I wouldn’t have done… this.” Joe stared down at his clothes, making a mental note to never listen to Quỳnh, Andy or Nile again. “I hope this is not weird but I wrote you a poem. Do you want to hear it?”
Nicky smiled the most radiant smile Joe had seen. “I’d love to.”
After that they talked for hours, until the owner all but kicked them out. They walked together to Joe’s studio.
“Well, Joe, I like your brand of bad boy.” Nicky pulled him into a kiss, tugging on Joe’s jacket. “I wouldn’t mind if you wore this any other day, I might even help you take it off.”
Joe laughed. “I’ll hold you to that.”
“Oh, you can hold me anytime.”