Chapter Text
It was cold. Well, okay- it was cold for L.A. standards. Like 40 degrees? Freezing. He wasn’t used to the cold temperatures anymore, having left Maine so many years ago. Ethan huddled into the hoodie he was wearing, pulling the sleeves over his hands. Why did he always insist on walking places? Right, gas money. He rubbed the covered hands together, turning the corner and finally seeing his destination.
The ice rink. It had to be indoors, obviously (since it never got below freezing) but it saw a large amount of visitors each year. He had taken a part-time job there, both for a little extra cash in his pocket and getting any leftover hot cocoa for free. Picking up the pace, he was practically jogging to the building.
He got a few stares, but it was cold; and the building temperature was no better, if anything a little worse. Once he was inside, Ethan looked around and found the small booth he would be manning. Someone else stood behind it, probably waiting for him to arrive. The boy stuffed his hands into his pocket, striding over to them. "Hey! 'm Ethan, first day on the job." They nodded, reaching under the booth and taking out a tag with his name on it. "Well, I'm off. If you need any help go to the main desk." They replied, putting their own name tag where his had come from before taking off.
Ethan clipped it onto his hoodie, taking the person’s place and pulling out the chair stuffed under the table. There was a good amount of people there already, but he had taken what was considered the late night shift; and it would probably get more crowded as the night went on.
A few people would stop by, (usually a group) but thankfully there was never a line. The machine was easy enough to handle, and after a few times of almost-failed cups, Ethan managed to get the hang of it. The only con was that his fingers were freezing. The rest of him felt fine, but when they were out of his pocket for extended periods of time they’d start to shake a little. Gloves. He definitely needed to bring gloves tomorrow.
“Hey,” A voice took his thoughts off of his numb fingers, and he looked up from where he was staring off. The man in front of him was wearing a sleek black jacket, and had almost-shoulder length dark hair (and was also very attractive) “Two hot chocolates please?” The more he spoke, the more he realized even his voice sounded like chocolate. Ethan was fucked. “Y-Yeah, hold on.”
He ignored the probably-visible flush on his neck, reaching over and starting up the machine. The boy hoped the shaking of his hands wasn’t obvious. The other took a step back, and Ethan could feel eyes on him as he worked. When the drinks were done, he scooted them over to the other man. “Here,” He mumbled, accepting the money placed into his hands.
“You’re shaking,” The man observed with a frown, and Ethan felt more embarrassed than he had in a long time. “Here,” He hummed, taking his gloves off and adding them onto the money. The other man took the two cups and winked, before adding “Thanks dear,” and walking off.
If Ethan could melt into a flustered puddle, he definitely would’ve already. Had anyone else pulled that stunt, he probably would’ve been confused and annoyed. But something about that man drew him in like a moth to a flame, and dammit he didn’t even get his name. He cursed to himself internally, putting on the gloves; noticing they were just a little too big for his hands.
The thought made him warmer than he already was, and he pressed gloved hands to his face. This was going to be a long night.
And it was.
After he had gotten home and decompressed, Ethan found himself staring at the gloves sitting on the table. He couldn't stop over-analyzing the interaction, and especially not the fact he had been called dear.
"You still thinking about that guy?" Katheryn huffed from the doorway, giving Ethan a perplexed look. "... Only a little." He mumbled, before flopping against the couch and burying his head into a pillow. "I don't understand it Kat, why would he do that?" He talked (mumbled) against the fabric.
"Because he likes you, probably. Look - I can't think of many times someone would approach anyone like that if they didn't at the very least think they were cute." She shrugged. "I'm placing my bets he'll be back tomorrow." Ethan groaned. "I refuse to bet on my lack of a love life," The other laughed, "Fair enough, we'll see tomorrow." And retreated back upstairs, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
Eventually he pulled himself from the couch, giving the gloves one last glance before making sure everything was locked up; and going upstairs.
Ethan was wearing them again. He told himself he would give them back (if he saw the man, anyhow) but he didn't want to. He bit his lip, sliding down onto the familiar chair and putting on his name-tag. It was an easy routine he could get used to, and wasn't too stressful of a job.
He had gotten through the first few orders with more ease than previously, and felt proud of himself for getting used to it so quickly. The boy observed as people mingled around in the commons, couples and families sitting on benches pulling on skates, getting food from other stands, the general mingling. Christmas music quietly played as welcome background noise, and even if there was no snow outside - Ethan could imagine it, if he tried.
"Am I going to catch you off guard every time we meet?" A voice hummed from beside him. He flinched, turning to see the man from yesterday. "M-Maybe, if you keep sneaking up on me like that." He chewed on his lip, looking from the other's eyes to the machine. "Same thing as yesterday?"
The man shook his head. "Nope, one cup instead of two." Ethan raised an eyebrow, "Here alone?" He couldn't fathom why someone like him was alone, but he started making the drink nonetheless. "Yeah, hard to be on a date with someone when you're right there, Ethan." The boy's face flushed beet-red, and his hands stumbled as he finished it off. "H-How'd you know my name?" He pointed to the tag on his hoodie with an amused expression. Right.
"Well, it's only fair since you know mine.. Share yours?" The other's eyes squinted as he smiled, taking the cup from Ethan. "It's Mark. See you tomorrow, cutie." As he turned to walk away, Ethan noticed the gloves still adorning his hands. “Wait- Mark, your gloves!” He called after. The man in question looked back at him, tilting his head a bit and smiling. “Keep them, they look better on you.” The boy watched dumbfounded as he walked away, face burning like it was on fire. Yes, he was well and truly screwed.