Chapter Text
“Heeeyyyy Siggyyyyy.”
The voice rang out behind him, loud and obnoxiously familiar. Sigma sighed, his shoulders already drooping with dread. He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Nikolai and Fyodor—his most persistent customers—were back in his section.
Why? Why did it always have to be them?
Every time they came in, it was the same thing. Teasing, flirting, and making his shift feel impossibly long. It had started innocently enough. Nikolai had been the first to show up—just another chatty customer in a string of many. Then, one day, he’d brought along Fyodor, quiet and unnervingly composed, and the dynamic had shifted. Now, they came in together, always sitting at the same booth, always ready to make Sigma’s life a living hell.
The worst part wasn’t the teasing. It was how much he secretly liked it.
He didn’t want to admit it, even to himself, but the way Nikolai’s sly grin lingered on him, or how Fyodor’s soft, calculating gaze seemed to pin him in place—it all made his heart race in a way he couldn’t ignore. But he had to. Surely, it was all a game to them. They probably only got a kick out of seeing him squirm, right?
Pulling himself together, Sigma straightened his apron and turned toward their booth. He couldn’t afford to lose his composure now. The diner wasn’t busy yet, which meant there was no escaping their attention.
“Welcome in,” he greeted flatly. “Can I get you two started with some drinks?”
"Aww, that’s no way to greet your favorite customers,” Nikolai teased, placing a hand over his heart in mock offense. “Not even a little smile for us?”
Fyodor sat across from him, calm and unreadable, his violet eyes fixed on Sigma. His lips curved into a smile so sweet it felt disarming.
Sigma forced an obvious smile. “Right. Sorry. Could I get you started on some drinks?”
Fyodor didn’t answer immediately. He just kept looking at Sigma, his gaze steady and unsettling. Sigma felt his cheeks heat up and quickly averted his eyes.
“Maybe we’ll order after you remind us of your cute name,” Nikolai chimed in, his voice dripping with mischief. He leaned forward, his grin widening as he studied Sigma’s face.
Sigma sighed, his patience already wearing thin. “My name is Sigma,” he said shortly. “I’ll be your waiter today. I’ll give you a few minutes to decide.”
Before he could turn to walk away, Fyodor’s smooth voice stopped him.
“We’ll be ready when you get back,” he said, his tone soft yet deliberate. There was something about the way he said it, something that made Sigma’s chest tighten. He walked away, making his way to the kitchen.
After relaying the orders to the chefs, Sigma leaned against the counter, groaning softly. He had to get them out of his head. They were just teasing him, treating him like a toy for their amusement. He couldn’t let himself read into their words—or worse, their smiles.
But he did.
The way Fyodor’s gaze lingered, the way Nikolai’s words always seemed to carry an underlying hint of sincerity—it was maddening. His coworker shot him a sympathetic look from where she was typing in some orders.
“They’re back, huh?” She asked, not needing to look up.
“Of course they are Yosano,” Sigma muttered, running a hand through his hair. “They’re like clockwork. I don’t understand why they keep coming back. All they do is tease me and... flirt.”
Yosano smirked. “Maybe they like you.”
Sigma froze, embarrassed to even talk about it. “What? No, they’re just... annoying. They’re probably dating each other anyway, Nikolai’s… stupidly cute… googoo eyes on Fyodor, ugh!”
“Doesn’t mean they don’t have their eyes on you,” she said with a wink.
Sigma rolled his eyes, but her words stayed with him. Did they like him? No, that was ridiculous. They were just playing with him, right? He shook his head, trying to push the thought away.
——-
When he returned to their booth, they were already waiting, menus set aside.
“We know what we want,” Nikolai said, leaning back against the seat. He watched Sigma in the way a cat’s eyes a cornered mouse. “Unless you had something else in mind…”
Sigma ignored the implication and pulled out his notepad. “Go ahead.”
They placed their orders, and just as Sigma turned to leave, Fyodor’s voice stopped him.
“Why don’t you put that order in and join us for a moment?” he asked, his tone dripping with honey.
“I’ve already taken my break,” Sigma lied, his voice firm but faltering.
“Aww, not even a second to spare?” Nikolai chimed in, chuckling softly. “We’re your favorite customers, aren’t we?”
Sigma bit back a response and walked away, his heart pounding. Why did they always manage to get under his skin?
---
The rest of Sigma’s shift was a blur of clattering dishes and chatter, yet through the mess, he couldn’t focus for alternate reasons. Every time he glanced toward their booth, he caught one of them watching him. Nikolai’s grin never wavered, and Fyodor’s gaze felt like a spotlight, even from across the room.
Then came the customer at the bar.
The man was older, with a leering smile that made Sigma’s skin crawl. He’d mistaken Sigma for a woman, which wasn’t unusual, but his behavior quickly crossed the line.
“Keep your hands to yourself, sir,” Sigma said firmly, stepping back as the man reached out to touch him.
“C’mon, sweetheart,” the man slurred, his grin widening. “Don’t play hard to get.”
Sigma’s stomach churned, after many excuses he got away but not before being called a ‘whore’ and a ‘bitch’, curses muttered under the mans breath in response to the rejection. He fled to the back, finding a separate task to do for a while.
Yet when Sigma returned to the bar, the man was gone, and so were Nikolai and Fyodor. Confused, he cleaned the counter and noticed a folded piece of paper tucked beneath the man’s untouched plate.
Unfolding it, Sigma’s heart skipped. A note written on ripped notebook paper, with messy handwriting it read: “Took care of that snobby customer for you, bunny~”
At the bottom was a phone number, a winking face, and the unmistakable signature: “Nikolai.”
Sigma clutched the note, his cheeks flushing as a small smile tugged at his lips. For the first time, he genuinely wondered—maybe they weren’t just playing with him after all.