Chapter Text
Jamison Fawkes, former arsonist, currently on probation after being released from jail. His friend, Mako Rutledge, had suggested that he get a job. It would distract from the urge to burn- or blow things up. Jamison had refused at first, but after some pushing he gave in.
So there he was, behind the bar of a coffee shop. Bored out of his mind and grumpy. His tired eyes scanned the interior of the shop as he waited for any customers to show up.
He had to admit, the shop did look quite nice. Not entirely Jamison’s taste, but nice nonetheless. The walls had a comforting green colour. A perfect contrast with the brown tables and chairs. Very pleasing to the eye. Here and there stood a plant that Jamison would have to water every once in a while. The walls were decorated with pictures of rainforests and animals and the counter had painted leaves on them.
It was clear that the owner was going for a rainforest aesthetic. Definitely not everyone’s taste, not Jamison’s taste either, but nice to look at nonetheless. It gave off some calming vibe he couldn’t fully explain.
Despite the beautiful interior, the shop lay silent most of the time. Not a lot of people stopped by to grab a drink or snack, so most of the time Jamison was left bored and alone, like right now. He didn’t complain, though. At least he didn’t have to work his ass off. All he had to do was keep the place clean and serve any customer that would come in, if anyone came in at all.
Sometimes the blonde would sleep on the job. The boredom and silence would get to him. Pair that with sleep deprivation and the nice warm environment and it was over. He didn’t stand a chance.
Just as he was dozing off the door opened, ringing a bell to signalise that someone entered the shop. It wasn’t loud, but it was enough to scare the barista. He jolted in surprise, standing up from his chair behind the counter and looking at the customer.
Before him stood a beautiful man. He had the most loving brown eyes, dreads that faded from brown to blonde, a cool tattoo on his muscular arm and a smile that lit up the room. Though the smile didn’t seem very sincere and on closer inspection the man looked exhausted. He had eyebags under his eyes and an anxious eye twitch.
Jamison was so busy admiring the man that he forgot to say a greeting. Not that he had any time to speak before the customer spoke up.
“Hello Mr…” The man squinted to look at the name badge on the barista’s shirt. “Fawkes. Could I please get a big coffee, with sugar.”
“Yes. Yes, of course.” Jamison wrote down the order. He didn’t have to, but it was an automatic action and it didn’t harm anyone anyway. “Is that all, sir?”
The man nodded. “That’s all. And call me Lúcio, please. No need for formalities.”
“Alright. Take a seat and I’ll bring your order over when it’s ready.”
“Don’t I have to pay?” Lúcio cocked an eyebrow, already holding his wallet in his hands.
Jamison shrugged. “Ya look like ya could use some caffeine. It’s on the house. I’m waiting for this place to go bankrupt anyway and my boss is an ass. Oh, and call me Jamison. Fawkes sounds so stupid.”
That made the Brazilian chuckle a bit. He put his wallet away and looked at Jamison. “Thank you, Jamison. This means a lot to me.” A soft, genuine smile appeared on his face as he skated over to a table and sat down. He started scrolling on his phone, waiting for his coffee.
Jamison could swear he was melting by just looking at this man. His heart was racing as if he was anxious, but without the anxious feeling in his stomach. It rather felt ticklish in a way. Bugs in his stomach and brain.
Shivering, the blonde shook off the strange feeling. He quickly moved to the back and started preparing Lúcio’s drink. He felt confused with what had just happened and wasn’t really paying attention to the coffee he was making until it overflowed.
“Yer fucking kidding, mate.” He groaned in frustration, grabbing a towel to clean up the mess. It wasn’t a huge mistake. He could easily fix it, but it was annoying nonetheless. With a sigh he poured a bit of the coffee down the sink, so the cup wouldn’t be filled to the very brim with hot coffee and possibly burn the customer.
He dried off the cup from remaining coffee stains and scooped in some sugar, carefully stirring before putting on a lid. Without any hesitation he grabbed a cake pop to add to the order. The cake pops were getting old anyway and no one bought them, so he had started giving them away for free. Would be a waste to allow them to go bad.
Finally done with the order, Jamison made his way back to the handsome customer. He set the drink down on the table and handed over the cake pop. “Mind if I join ya?”
Lúcio looked up from his phone. “No, no, I don’t mind at all. Sit down, some company will be nice. It’s strange how lonely it can feel to be surrounded by fans. Strangers who know you scarily well.” He grabbed his coffee and took a sip, then chuckled. “Eh, what am I whining about?”
“Fans?” Jamison asked. “Yer famous or somethin’?”
The man hummed, nodding affirmatively. “I’m Lúcio Correia dos Santos, world famous DJ who tries to bring peace and strength with his music.”
“Sorry, mate, I don’t often listen to music. No idea who you are, but I’ll take your word for it.” The other man shrugged. He had no reason to not believe the Brazilian. “Why are you on skates? Is it to look taller, or just to look cool?”
“They’re actually prosthetics.” Lúcio said, taking the time to drink some more coffee before continuing. “I lost my legs a few years ago. I’ve always loved roller skates, so my father made me these. I also have normal prosthetics, but I prefer these ones. It’s faster and more efficient to move around on skates if you ask me.”
Jamison bent down to look at the skates up close. They were indeed prosthetics. One was connected just under the knee and the other at the hip it seemed. He then looked down at his own prosthetics. They looked pathetic compared to those of the DJ. Lúcio seemed to notice his self-doubt.
“I think your prosthetics look cool too. I like how unique they look. You don’t need fancy technology to have working artificial limbs. Did you make them yourself?”
“Yep!” Immediately Jamison was filled with pride. He had forgotten that he was the creator of his prosthetics and not some engineer or fancy mechanic. He didn’t need anyone to help him. “I’m sort of a mechanic myself, but I mostly make bombs!”
Lúcio cocked an eyebrow, taking a bite out of his cake pop. It was dry and tasted like clay, but he didn’t want to be rude so he didn’t complain. He listened as Jamison started rambling on about different kinds of explosives and how to make them, what they were used for and what he personally used them for.
Talking about bombs soon turned to mentioning and explaining his crimes. That’s where Jamison cut himself off. He said too much. Now the handsome DJ would probably be disgusted with him and leave. Looking down at his hands, the blonde listened for any signs of Lúcio leaving.
But nothing happened. No movement other than a cup being put down on the table. No sound other than a soft hum and chewing noises. Why was this guy still here? Was he not going to call him crazy or a terrible person? Jamison gathered his courage and looked up.
He was greeted with a patient smile. “‘M sorry. I said too much. Yer allowed to just run away if ya feel like it. I know I’m crazy.”
“Is anyone not ‘crazy’? I don’t mind that you’re a former criminal as long as you’ve learned to never do it again. Even the worst people deserve a second chance.” Lúcio checked his watch and sighed, quickly downing the rest of his coffee. “I have to go now.”
He stopped halfway through standing up and grabbed a pen from his pocket. Without asking he grabbed the barista’s notepad and wrote down his number. “Call me. You seem like a great person.” He didn’t give Jamison a chance to respond, quickly leaving.
With a confused and slightly frustrated huff the blonde looked at the number. He noticed the man had also written something down and made a quick doodle of a frog head with headphones. The text read: “Lúcio. Thank you for the coffee, Jamie,” followed by a heart.
The nickname made his heart flutter. “Jamie.” He said out loud, trying to figure out if he liked it or not. His face became oddly warm all of a sudden and that strange fluttering sensation in his stomach was back.
With an annoyed frown he went back to the counter, putting the note in his pocket after ripping it out of the notepad. He had to figure out what the meaning of this strange feeling was. Maybe Mako would know more.
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That evening, when Jamison came home, he went straight to his bedroom. He didn’t even greet Mako, who was busy cooking dinner in the kitchen. This confused the older man, but he couldn’t just let his food burn to talk to his friend. He would finish cooking first.
Jamison sighed, dropping himself on his bed. He needed a moment to think. The coffee shop had been too distracting to really focus, so he had waited until he could go home so he could hide in his bedroom. His safe space.
Routinely he took off his work clothes, throwing them in a corner. Uncomfortable pieces of cloth they were, but he had to wear them. Company policy or some bullshit. He’d much rather just walk around shirtless in his usual shorts, but obviously that wasn’t allowed.
With ease he slipped into his shorts before once again lying down on his bed, clenching the note in his hand. The strange feeling still hadn’t subsided and all he could think about was Lúcio. He just wanted to cup that beautiful face and place kisses all over.
Huh, that was a strange thought. Isn’t that illegal, guys kissing guys? Whether it is or not, he had to figure out why he was feeling this way. It drove him insane. The blonde sighed again, tightening his grip on the piece of paper as he stared at the ceiling above his head. His mind went blank until the door opening caught his attention.
It was Mako. He motioned for his young friend to sit up, setting down a plate with food on the nightstand before sitting down on the bed. Jamison sat up, pulling his legs up to his chest.
“Hello, big lug, sorry for not greeting ya. I kinda need some time to think.” The younger man hesitated before adding, “Please stay.” He got a grunt in response.
The two sat there in silence for a while, Mako eating his dinner while Jamison tried to uncover what these feelings meant. He was frustrated and tired and it showed in his fidgety behaviour. Finally he decided he needed advice.
“Hey, mate. Can I talk to ya for a moment?”
Mako turned to look at him, so the man continued speaking. “I met this guy today and he gives me a weird feeling. I don’t know what to do about it and I can’t stop thinking of him. What should I do? He gave me his number.”
“What feeling?” Mako asked. “Describe it.”
“Feels like there’s bugs in my brain and stomach. It tickles, but not in a bad way, ya know? And when I think of him it gets worse and my face gets hot and red, but I also can’t stop thinking of him.” Jamison explained. “And my heart starts racing.” He added.
The older man hummed. “Sounds like you’re in love.”
“Great. How do I get rid of it? I don’t want it.”
Mako just laughed.