Chapter Text
Narinder blinked groggily at the menu on the chalkboard. He squinted when the words started to blur.
“Uh, sir?”
Narinder hummed, head moving slowly toward the sound. The young cashier behind the counter looked as tired as he felt.
He grunted and fumbled with his wallet. The inside of the coffee shop was illuminated solely by lights dangling from the ceiling. They casted a soft glow in the some-what dark cafe.
Narinder rubbed a hand over his eyes and pulled out a ten and a twenty, much more than was probably needed for what he wanted but he figured the kid would appreciate a tip early in the morning. Hell knows he would.
“I’ll have a black coffee, largest size you have with… uh, ten sugars.”
“Fucking ten?”
Narinder startled at the incredulous voice behind him. Eyes narrowed, he turned to see who had spoken, only to come face to face with Lambert.
He felt considerably more awake now.
“Lambert?”
They looked almost as surprised to be seeing him as he was them. Unlike him however, they smiled softly, welcoming eyes squinting with joy.
He wanted to smatter their cheeks with kisses, make those pretty eyes flutter shut so he could press his lips to smooth gray eyelids.
It’s a good thing his fur is black or they would’ve seen him turn bright red.
“Sir,” the cashier’s voice came out, annoyed and insistent.
“Oh, uh, yeah.” He turned and slid the ten across the counter and waited quietly to be rung up.
“Name?” The teen muttered, tone bored and bordering on rude. Narinder considered not tipping.
“Narinder.”
“‘Kay, Narminder your drink’ll be ready in ten.”
Narinder frowned. “It’s actually—“
“Next!” The cashier spoke without looking up.
Fuck this he’s not tipping them for this attitude. His ears angled back in annoyance and part of him wanted to stay and chew them out.
Then he remembered that he had precisely zero energy to do such a thing anyway.
Before he could move a hand grabbed his elbow.
Right, Lambert. He felt himself relax at their hand on his elbow.
“Do you maybe want to sit together once we both have our drinks?” they offer, a small, hopeful smile on their face.
Narinder had to look away for a moment in order to not immediately melt on the spot.
He cleared his throat and turned back to them.
“Yeah, yeah that sounds nice.”
“Cool. Sweet. Awesome even.” Lambert rocked back and forth on their heels, cheeks stretched wide in a grin.
Gods they are so cute. He bats the thought away like it’s an irritating fly. Despite this, warmth still curls in his chest.
“So… fucking ten? ” Narinder inquires with a grin, feeling a bit more sociable and relaxed with a bit of caffeine in his body.
Lambert groans, leaning back in their chair, and clearly embarrassed by their previous actions.
“Shit, sorry I don’t know why the hell I said that, if anything my drink probably has more sugar in it than yours, that wasn’t like to shame you into not having as much sugar. Sorry if that’s how it sounded but I promise that wasn’t how it was intended, just because I’m a dentist doesn’t mean I don’t think everyone should have unfettered access to as much sugar as they want without shame.”
Lambert paused.
“Unless you’re diabetic, then you should maybe check with a doctor before indulging.”
Narinder couldn’t help it, he laughed.
When Lambert tilted their head in confusion he smiled.
“Sorry, you’re just really cute.”
They both went silent.
On the outside Narinder knew his face looked still and calm, however, on the inside, he was dead.
When suddenly, and by some fucking miracle, Lambert didn’t call him a creep or start screaming or running away, but blushed and looked down bashfully, their teeth digging into their bottom lip.
“And I— uh, I didn’t think you meant it in a mean way.” He hurried to add, silence becoming increasingly awkward.
After that the two didn’t really know what to say. After all, what exactly should you talk about with your kid’s dentist? Other than oral hygiene that is.
Oh, yeah, kids. He had kids. He could talk about his kids all day.
Narinder straightened in his chair and opened his mouth, surprised to find himself excited to talk about the two. Although, considering he didn’t have any friends to talk to (unless his neighbors count) it shouldn’t be all that surprising.
The lamb beats him to it.
“So what’s got you up so early?”
Though he is slightly disappointed to not get to talk about Aym and Baal, he takes to the topic gratefully.
“I’m looking over a new case for one of my clients.”
The sheep’s eyes widened the slightest bit, Narinder hoped that wasn’t a bad indicator.
“You’re a lawyer?”
He nodded, trying not to fidget too much. Part of him expected them to then ask if he had ever worked on a murder case or any kind of serious crime. That was the reaction that most people had to learning he was a lawyer. They weren’t his favorite questions to answer and the thought of Lambert asking something along those lines made his mouth sour.
They must have sensed his hesitancy because they skillfully directed the conversation in a different way.
“I’m studying psychology.” The smile gently as they talk, it makes Narinder relax. A trade, information for information.
He tilts his head. “For fun or for work purposes?” He wasn’t really sure how psychology would help in a dentist's office but he supposed one may as well have all tools possible at their disposal.
The lamb bleats out a laugh, leans back and takes a sip of their bright orange drink.
“A little bit of both, I’m mostly focusing on child development and support.” One of their hands comes up to fiddle with a strand of wool. The fidget is oddly charming.
“I think you’d be good at that— I mean, well, you are. Probably, like you work with kids all the time right? So you’d probably have to be good with kids,” he finishes lamely.
Gods, when has he become such a fucking wreck? Narinder’s ears angle back slightly, embarrassment weighing heavily in his chest. He’s never been like this, a weak, flustered mess. Shame joins the weight of embarrassment. Only when the weight becomes almost overwhelming does he look up.
Lambert doesn’t look confused or disturbed or worried by his ramblings, their eyes are attentive and their smile is genuine and appreciative.
“Thank you,” they voice softly, abyss-like eyes still on him as they take a sip of their drink.
Narinder’s mouth feels dry so he copies the motion and takes a gulp of his drink. Perhaps a little too fast by the way he almost chokes.
A nod is all he feels he can manage at the moment after their words so he does just that.
The two sit in companionable silence for a while, enjoying their respective caffeinated drinks.
The whole time Narinder does his best to observe the lamb in front of him without being obvious in his observation.
They’re wearing scrubs again, he notes, likely going to work soon after this. This time the fabric is patterned with a myriad of seahorses in varying sizes and colors. They have a lilac fleece unzipped over the shirt. He’d be worried about their temperature if not for their thick wool. A flash of reflected light on the table has him pausing.
He looks up to their face and his gaze catches on their ear. A small golden ring curls around their ear, digging into delicate, velvet flesh. Hit by direct sunlight of the first minutes of dawn, the little earring seems to glow. Narinder wants to bite it.
The thought shocks him out of his reprieve and shames him into looking down at the table in front of him determinedly.
“How are Aym and Baal?”
The question should have been easy to answer, after all it was what he had planned on talking about before Lambert had beat him to the chase. Instead he finds himself not wanting to continue the conversation, finds himself anxious to get away.
“Fine,” he says curtly, cringing at the sound of his own voice.
He can imagine what their face would look like, Lambert is perceptive, that much is easy to tell, and the confusion painted with a splash of hurt at his sudden change of tone that comes so vividly to his mind makes him want to shrink away.
“I think I have to go,” he says quietly, pushing himself up from his chair.
A hand flashes out to latch onto his suit’s coat sleeve.
“Wait—”
Narinder jerks, surprised at the contact. His eyes instinctively go to Lambert's face.
The concern in their eyes is crystal clear, in that clarity Narinder can’t find an ounce of hurt.
Their voice is what almost makes him cave.
“Narinder? Are you okay?”
He wants to collapse into their arms, pin the both of them to the ground and curl up together so tightly that the two could never be separated, so that it’d be impossible to tell where each body started and ended.
Which is what concerns him. Lambert is still practically a stranger, he shouldn’t be feeling these things, shouldn’t be thinking them either.
So, with a smile that probably looks incredibly forced and not at all natural, he reassures them.
“I’m fine, I just have to get to my firm, my shift starts soon.”
Lambert frowns but their hand hesitantly drops from his sleeve, only to grab his hand and pull it closer.
Their hand is warm in Narinder’s and he can’t breathe. Their other hand smoothes out the wrinkled fabric of his coat’s sleeve. The contact is light, almost clinical in effectiveness, something about it calms his nerves, despite the hand still trapping his own. But it’s not truly trapped, he could move any moment he wished.
“Okay,” they murmur softly, the smile back on their face. It has an edge of worry, but there’s trust too. Trust that he can handle himself, that he’ll be okay.
It would probably be bad if he fainted.
They finish smoothing out the wrinkles in his coat and then release his hand. It hovers for a moment before slowly dropping down to his side.
“There we go.” Lambert grins, clearly pleased with themselves. The words feel like praise. Narinder isn’t surprised that he’s thinking about kissing them again.
He clears his throat to attempt to displace some of his own awkwardness. It doesn’t really work but his throat feels less like crap.
“I really should—”
“Mhm yeah—”
“Yep, yep, so I’m just—”
“Hey,” Lambert tries to halt him again.
And he does, because what else is he supposed to do?
They don’t touch him again. He’s grateful for it, even though part of him aches at the loss.
“It was good to see you.” They’re kind, too kind. He wouldn’t be good for them, he knows. Not with everything he’s got going on, with the kids, his ongoing war with his siblings, and a million legal issues he’s still working on. Not with their sunny smile and patterned scrubs, with their sugary drinks and dedication to children’s health.
He knows it of course but his brain doesn’t want to acknowledge it.
“You too.” His voice comes out surprisingly normal, it even has a tinge of warmth in it.
Though it’s not nearly the same gentle and sweet tone Lambert has showered him with, it still makes them smile.
He turns to leave, and they let him. Narinder walks away to the front door of the cafe.
Just before he opens the door however, his traitorous mind supplies a truly ridiculous idea. One he is definitely too sober to act on. However the thought of the lamb’s reaction is more than enough to make him feel tipsy.
Turning around before he can chicken out, he calls out across the space.
“Lambert!” As soon as the words are out of his mouth he regrets it, but the surprised look it garners from the sheep fills him with courage.
He smiles, and is surprised to find it comes easy in that moment, that it is perhaps one of the most genuine expressions he’s made to anyone outside of the walls of his home.
The next thing he does is definitely something he’ll never be able to let himself forget for the rest of time but screw it, he’s high as a kite on the bewildered smile adorning Lambert’s face.
He winks, and internally thanks his sister for the (embarrassing) afternoon of her teaching him how to properly flirt with people.
“I’ll see you later!”
The lamb’s jaw drops in surprise, Narinder lingers for a second longer to savor the expression, then ducks out of the building as his anxiety rises to critical levels.
He gets to his car so fast for a second he’s convinced he teleported there.
He rests his head in his hands and groans, embarrassed but strangely adrenalized. There’s anxiety of course, but there’s something new, something he can’t really name.
Narinder takes a deep breath, he really should start driving to his firm.
His hands stay where they are.
Oh well, he reasons. A few more minutes agonizing about possibly the most embarrassing and juvenile thing he’s ever done can’t hurt, right?