Work Text:
Tom passed by the same cake salesman every day on his way to work.
He was an annoying man, and Tom had heard that his cakes were abysmal, but he was friendly enough to locals, so no one bothered him. He stood at the same corner every morning, outside the same station, wore the same penguin costume and sold the same terrible cakes.
He did the same speech each time Tom passed him, excitedly babbling about vegan-friendly ingredients and no gluten and whatever other witchcraft he included in his recipes, whilst Tom just smiled thinly and nodded, briskly passing as quick as socially acceptable.
Unfortunately for Tom, no matter how hard he tried, this salesman was always open to conversation. Which meant that anyone who walked past was instantly pulled into the hurricane known as social interaction.
In any other case, Tom would simply cross to the other side of the road to avoid any contact, but the salesman’s permanent selling spot was directly outside of the train station. The station Tom needed to enter in order to travel to London, and by extension, his job.
This meant that the cake salesman was a factor in Tom’s life that he could not remove. Like a piece of gum on the bottom of his shoe, the cake man just wouldn’t let him pass without some word of overly enthusiastic conversation.
It was humiliating, to say the least. A man in a large penguin costume, holding a tray of stale-looking baked ‘goods’, talking the ears off of a smart-looking businessman on his way to work. It did not do well for Tom’s reputation, and he found himself dreading going to work each morning purely because of one cake salesman.
But Tom had no choice. So, he awoke the next morning and gathered as much energy as he needed, then rose from his bed and went about his usual routine.
In no time at all, he was at the point where he’d cross the road and be confronted with the man-penguin. He breathed in, trying to muster up some patience, and put his foot forward to cross.
The moment he did, something hit his head.
Confused, Tom looked up, and saw the penguin man standing across from him. The salesman had abandoned his usual selling spot, instead staring at Tom from the other side of the zebra crossing. Tom gave him the usual “what the hell was that” look, and the penguin man didn’t react. Instead of responding, he pulled a cake from within the folds of his costume, and hurled it over the tops of the cars whizzing past them. The cake landed directly on Tom’s jaw, and he let out a sound of surprise as a burst of pain erupted where he’d been hit.
“What the fuck?!” He shouted, but received no response. Cursing under his breath, Tom jogged across the road, apologising to a car that had to screech its brakes to allow him to pass. Once he reached the salesman, he touched his jaw tenderly.
“What was that for?!” He hissed, and the penguin man blinked.
“What was what for?”
“You just hit me with a cake! What the fuck do you put in these, anyway?”
“If you’d like the recipe I’d be more than happy to-”
“I don’t care about the fucking recipe! Why did you throw a cake at me?”
The salesman’s face was blank. “I didn’t.”
“I just watched you! It hit me, see?” He gestured at his jaw, which felt like it was swelling, and the salesman’s eyes widened in alarm.
“Goodness, what happened there? You ought to see a doctor. Have you been in a fight?”
Tom couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “No! You just hit me with a rock!”
“I don’t have any rocks with me, how could I have?”
Tom rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t.”
Just as Tom was about to bite out a reply, a woman approached them with furrowed eyebrows. She looked at the salesman weirdly. “Excuse me, did you just throw a rock at him?”
“Yes!” Tom shouted, at the same time that the salesman said “No.”
The woman looked terribly confused.
“I saw you throw something at him.”
“It was a cake. I’m a street seller.”
The woman looked between them, Tom with his probably-bruised jaw, and the man with his innocent expression and arms full of cakes.
“Whatever.” She said, and walked away.
Tom gaped after her.
“Would you like to buy a cake?” The man asked, and Tom scowled.
“No, I wouldn’t. Assaulting locals isn’t the best way to get customers, you know.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course you don’t,” Tom muttered, adjusting his briefcase. “I need to go to work. If you’ll excuse me…”
And he left.
For the first time ever, the salesman was still outside the station when Tom got back to his town well after 10pm.
He skipped over to Tom unabashedly as soon as he saw him, and Tom’s jaw gave an offended throb at how unbothered the man looked. Tom scowled at him, but the salesman was not deterred.
“Hello!” He said cheerily, and Tom huffed.
“What do you want?”
“Oh, nothing. Would you like a cake?”
“No.”
“They’re very good! Made by my good friend Hagrid, himself. Gluten free, no eggs, minimal sugar-”
“If all that’s been removed, what’s in the cake?”
“Oh, don’t worry about it.” The man smiled, and Tom found himself unwarrantedly unnerved.
“If you insist.” Tom said, and continued walking, though at a slightly faster pace.
The man kept up with him easily. “So you want one?”
“No.”
“Buy one get one free!”
“No.”
“50% off your first buy!”
“No.”
“...For free?”
“Christ, how desperate are you?” Tom muttered, and the salesman shrugged sheepishly. “One cake.”
“Thank you! Here, I carry them on me at all times for self defence.”
“What-”
“Eat up!”
The cake was hard as rock. Tom rubbed his aching jaw, smiling through the pain. “‘S great.” He choked out, and the salesman beamed.
“I’m Harry!” He said enthusiastically, thrusting out a hand for Tom to shake. He took it gingerly, and Harry shook his hand vigorously before dropping it and linking their arms.
Tom, too bewildered and exhausted from a long day at work to argue, let it happen. Without the ridiculous penguin costume, this Harry guy wasn’t too bad to look at, Tom supposed. And the insufferable enthusiasm was easy to tune out after a while.
Tom could get used to it.