Work Text:
Toque Guy was staring at them again. Expression wavering between determination, nervousness, and something that they wanted to label as desire. Maybe that last one was just because he was so fucking hot, though. Seeing what they wanted to see.
He'd been coming here for the last three weeks. And every damn time, he'd order a tea and a scone, and alternate between watching them and reading a book. Or at least pretending to read. They saw the way he doodled in the margins sometimes.
But the way he watched them was almost like he recognized them. Which was batshit. They'd never seen him before he wandered in here that first time three weeks ago.
Jim glanced around the coffee shop. It was nearly empty, save for the two old men making eyes at each other in the corner. No one came here at two o’clock in the afternoon. Too late for lunch, too early for school to be out. No one except for Toque Guy, apparently.
Fuck it. Their shift was almost over anyways.
Jim poured a fresh travel cup of tea, dumped three packets of salt into it, then slipped out from behind the counter. Toque Guy very pointedly did not watch them emerge. They grit their teeth and stomped over to him, then slammed the cup down in front of him. The lid cracked off, sending hot tea splashing over the table. Oops.
Toque Guy stared at them. Jim glared back.
“Um. I didn’t order this.”
Jim crossed their arms and bared their teeth in what they always told Lucius was a smile, but knew looked more like they were about to bite, and not in the fun way. “It’s on the house. Now you’re gonna tell me what the fuck your problem is, or you’re gonna take it and get the fuck out of my shop.”
Toque Guy looked nervous. “Um. What? I don’t have a problem!”
“Then why do you keep staring at me!” they hissed, waving a hand around. “I see you watching me!”
“Oh. Um. Shit.” Toque Guy took a breath and squared his shoulders. Determination, then. “Okay. Look. This is gonna sound like – really stupid. Really, really stupid.”
Jim settled on the edge of the comfy chair opposite him and leaned forward, forearms resting on their legs. “Stupider than the way you’ve been watching me for three weeks?”
Toque Guy grimaced. “Yeah, fair point.” He dug out an iphone in a battered rainbow case. Jim waited impatiently as he clicked through an app, then held out a picture.
Oh. Shit.
“Sorry if it’s like, super fucking weird,” Toque Guy blurted out, “but is this a picture of your chest with Scooter from Baby Muppets on it?”
It surely fucking was. The nude didn’t show their face. But it did show their tits, with the aforementioned tattoo of Baby Muppet Scooter on full display. It was a damn good photo, if they said so themself.
“Because if it is,” Toque Guy continued, “then I think you might be the love of my life. Like, seriously. Holy shit, dude.”
Jim’s face grew warm. “You think I’m the love of your life because of my tits?”
“No!” he protested. “I mean, well, sort of. They’re like, really nice tits.” He turned the phone back to himself and fiddled with the screen. “There’s like, two reasons. Look, when you airdropped your uh – your tits – into my phone first I was like, wow, damn, nice tits –“
“Not really selling me on the whole ‘I don’t think you’re the love of my life because you have nice tits’ story there, muchacho,” Jim said drily.
Toque Guy shot them an exasperated look. “You’re the one that airdropped them to me!”
Jim threw their hands up in the air. “Yeah, well I wasn’t exactly expecting a Casanova to come find me and tell me how much they like my chest!”
That got them another grimace. “Yeah, no, fair, that’s on me.” He turned his phone back to them. The photo was zoomed in – but not on their tits. No, it was zoomed in on Dog.
Dog was their cat. She was a big fluffy monstrosity, weighing just over twenty pounds the last time they’d had her in at the vet. She wasn’t overweight, she was just unreasonably large. She was sweet, affectionate, and dumb as a box of bricks.
“Did you mean to airdrop a nude with your cat licking its asshole in the background?” Toque Guy was grinning now, and clearly trying not to laugh. “I kind of died laughing when I noticed.”
Their cheeks were definitely hot now. “Is it better or worse if it was kind of sort of on purpose?”
“Better,” he says with a laugh, “definitely better.”
A smile tugged at their lips. “I thought that maybe if whoever got the photo didn’t like tits, they’d at least like to see Dog.”
Toque Guy raised an eyebrow. “Dog?”
“My cat,” they clarified. “Her name is Dog.”
He shook his head and smiled, tucking his phone back in his pocket. He had laugh lines around his mouth, and wrinkles around his eyes that pulled when he smiled. Gorgeous. “That’s hilarious.”
“I thought so.”
“Anyway. Sorry, I’m not trying to be creepy, but I was in here, and thought she looked like the cat on the pin you have.” He waved at their apron. “And she’s in your employee photo. Kinda got lucky finding you, I guess.”
No one else had ever noticed that their pin was of Dog. It had been a custom commission, and was one of their favourite things. It got transferred between their backpack and their work apron every day.
Jim eyed Toque Guy, considering. He really was extraordinarily handsome. And he didn’t seem quite so fucking weird anymore. Maybe they could be ‘outgoing’ or whatever Lucius was always telling them to be. This wasn’t the worst way to meet someone.
Jim stuck out their hand. “I’m Jim. Pronouns are they/them, or elle/le/e en español.”
His hand was broad and warm, palm soft. They wondered how his hands would feel on their body.
“Oluwande,” he said with a broad smile. “He/him. Sorry for being super weird and watching you for three weeks rather than just talking to you.”
“Está bien.” Jim shrugged. “You’re still way better than some weird customers are.”
“Oh. Good, I guess?”
“Yeah.” Jim nodded towards the counter. “Look, I should get back to work. But you uh – you said there was two things?”
Oluwande looked confused. “Two things?”
“About my photo,” they clarified. “Unless the other thing was just like, how nice my tits are.”
“Oh! No. I mean – maybe it was three things.” Oluwande looked around the store, then back at them. He took a breath. “Look, I’m gonna unbutton my shirt a little, okay? I’m not being weird, I promise.”
“You are being extraordinarily weird,” Jim said with a snort. “But I dig it. Alright dude, flash me.”
Oluwande looked like he’d be blushing if his skin weren’t so beautifully dark. He unbuttoned his shirt quickly, squirming in his seat and looking around. He pulled his shirt to the side, showing off one gorgeous pec –
Jim started laughing. “No fucking way.”
“Yes fucking way.” Oluwande was laughing too. “I wanted to airdrop a photo back but I didn’t have one, and didn’t have the courage to go take one in the restroom.”
Jim dug their phone out of their apron pocket. “Hold the fuck up. Let me take a picture?”
“Only fair,” he agreed.
Jim snapped a photo, then leaned back in their seat and stared at it while Oluwande started buttoning up his shirt.
He had a tattoo on his pec. Kermit, from Muppet Babies, playing a tiny ukulele and singing. There was even a rainbow behind him, with cutesy little clouds.
It was fucking adorable. They still couldn’t fucking believe he even had it. They’d never in their entire life met another person with a Muppet Baby tattoo, but here he was. With a Muppet Baby tattoo on his tit, nonetheless.
Maybe fate really did exist.
“Scooter isn’t my favourite,” they told Oluwande, locking their phone and sliding it back into their pocket. “In like, the sake of honesty. I’m more of an Animal kind of guy.”
“Why Scooter then?” he asked, looking curious.
“My brother dared me.” They couldn’t help but smile at the memory. “Scooter’s his favourite.”
Oluwande smiled too, then bit his lip. “Please don’t tell me that he has one of Animal, or I’ll start wondering if he’s the love of my life.”
Jim barked a laugh. “Nope. I tried, but he refused.” They winked. “Guess you’re stuck with me.”
Oluwande rubbed the back of his head and gave them the shyest, sweetest smile. “I can live with that.”
He reached for the tea Jim had brought him. They shot forward, clamping their hand over the top before he could take it.
“You shoudn’t drink that.” Jim grimaced. “I dumped like, a ton of salt in it, just in case you were a creep or ran off when I tried talking to you.”
Oluwande gaped at them, then started laughing. “Christ. Okay. Thanks for the warning, then. Glad I’ve been deemed ‘not a creep.’”
“Well, maybe a little.” They grinned back, then pulled the cup towards them. They slid the cardboard sleeve off, dug the sharpie out of their pocket, and scribbled their phone number on it. When they handed it over, Oluwande held it like he’d been given a treasure.
“I get off in half an hour,” Jim said. “If you like, want to come meet Dog or whatever. I’ll make you a new tea for the road.”
“One without salt?” he asked with a cheeky grin.
Jim huffed a laugh. “I could be convinced to put sugar in instead.”
He gave them another shy smile. “I’d like that. To meet Dog. And the sugar.”
“Good.” Jim stood and stretched, noticing with satisfaction how his eyes tracked the movement. They winked, then reached out and tapped his chest. “And maybe I can see that tattoo a little closer, eh?”
He rubbed the place they’d touched as they pulled away. His smile was so bright that they wondered how they’d missed it in the three weeks he’d been here. No matter. They saw it now.
“It’s a date.”