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Till doesn’t understand why the fuck he agreed to this. Why the fuck his boyfriend, agreed to this. No, scratch that, he knew exactly why he complied with this… atrocity.
“You. Look. So. Adorable!” Ivan practically squeals, immediately bounding to invade Till’s personal space, playing with his flimsy clip-on cat ears whilst simultaneously tugging on his tie-on cat tail. Ivan’s grip gets ever so slightly stronger on Till’s tail, crimson pupils flaring with a particular brand of intensity Till knew all too well.
“Ivan…” Till starts, but Ivan beats him to the caution.
“You know, instead of the ribbon, if we attach a—”
“Down boy,” Till warns, giving his beloved the stink eye.
Ivan drops the tail, raising his hands up in surrender, “Okay! I get it, no sexy banter in the workplace. You don’t suppose Luka would let us take these home, though, would you?”
“Considering the fact that he threatened me over not staining the apron about fifty times by telling me I’d need to pay for his deposit out of pocket, I don’t think he’d be willing to let us take it back home for what will obviously be for not very clean reasons.”
“Obviously,” Ivan echoes, nodding in thought, before sighing, “What a shame. The pink really suits your face when you blush, and that’s all that would happen if we could take it home,”
“You’re so fucking shameless,” Till groans, ignoring the growing flush behind his ears.
Ever since he and Ivan got together a few months ago over a particularly heated session near the booth at the far right corner of Sweet Dream café, Ivan’s filter has slowly but surely deteriorated over many nights spent with Till repeatedly letting him know that it was fine, that he was still going to be there no matter how intense his words could be (and, if he was being honest, he was unfortunately into it).
While Till was proud of his boyfriend for finally being able to be openly affectionate in an albeit freaky fashion, he couldn’t help but hate how embarrassed he managed to make Till feel. If Ivan’s incessantly insane prose hadn’t rattled him before, it certainly had now; it felt like he couldn’t go a day without turning red from head to toe.
Just once, Till would love to return the favour, to see Ivan be on the receiving end of such unabashed flirtation. To see Ivan flush to the brim, stammering. God, it felt almost unfathomable.
“For you? Who wouldn’t be!” Ivan winks. See?! Exactly that, “Anyway, I should probably get ready myself,”
“Wait, huh? Get ready for what? You’re already in uniform,” Till asks, confused.
Ivan nods, “Yeah, Luka just told me that he apparently ordered me a maid outfit too, something like, ‘we need all the clout we can get and you’re the golden ticket’ , so I guess I’m doing that now.”
What.
“You’re crossdressing.”
“Yes,”
“As a maid.”
“Mhm.”
“And you’re okay with this?” Till asks, furrowing his brows. Truth be told, Till was quite used to putting this get-up on every year on April Fools, but Ivan had only just started working at the café a couple of months back. “Iv, if you’re not comfortable with it, you don’t have to. Luka would get it, or I’ll make him get it.”
Ivan laughs gently, “Of course I’m okay with it. Who do you take me for? Besides, I might just knock you off your feet with my get-up, so I’d personally call it ‘maximising my efficiency’,”
“Takes one business class, now he talks like a conglomerate capitalist,” Till bemoans, with a wry smile.
Ivan rolls his eyes fondly before pecking Till’s cheek, waving aggressively as he leaves the room to go and change. Oh, right, Till didn’t ask him what animal he was going to be. A dog, right? That seemed fitting.
He sighs, tightening up his apron’s drawstrings before lamenting over the fact that he didn’t ask Ivan to tie it for him before he left. Till walks over to the edge of their staff room, grabbing his notepad. Just eight hours, it’s just eight hours.
Just. Eight. Hours.
⌗⌗⌗
“Welcome to Sweet Dream Café. What can I get for you two today?” Till asks, reciting his scripture in his usual deadpan. When he first got employed via nepotism due to unfortunately being acquainted with Luka, the assistant manager at the time chastised him for his tone. Luka, however, fired her the very next day.
Not because he had Till’s back or anything, oh no, he just believed Till’s delivery ‘gave them an edgy bad boy archetype’ that the previous assistant manager was ‘clearly blind to’ and was therefore not ‘fit for corporate society’. All that is to say, Till’s allowed to sound as tired as he feels, which is definitely a perk. Especially on this day.
The girl’s eyes widen as they try their best not to stare Till up and down as they stammer out their order, with one of them not-so-subtly whispering to the other, “ Don’t look at me like that! I didn’t know this was that kind of café!”
Till walks away the second they finish, beelining his way to the counter before he bumps into someone’s chest, with said someone wrapping an arm around his waist to prevent Till from falling embarrassingly on his behind.
“ Shit – Oh it’s….” Till’s voice promptly dies as he registers Ivan’s everything.
Ivan’s hair was combed down, leaving him with his signature ever-so-slightly-messy bangs, a bonnet, and—
Bunny ears.
Ivan was. Ivan was. He was. He.
“You’re a bunny,” Till manages, breathlessly, his voice barely audible.
Ivan blinks, slightly addled, “An astute observation,”
“You’re a bunny.” Till repeats, as his gaze trails down, beginning to take note of the entire outfit. A full-sleeved black dress with a white collar, which looked to have a petticoat under it, complete with an apron, tie, stockings, heeled boots and gloves. Of fucking course he was gloved.
“You’re a bunny maid,” Till concludes, his brain hopelessly buffering.
“Should I be concerned?” Ivan asks, tilting his head as the corner of his mouth lifts amusedly.
That bastard. He was having too much fun with this. With ruining Till’s life. With the ruins, the functioning of what was supposed to be a freshly developed brain. What was he supposed to do now? He can’t think, he can’t breathe, he—
Oh, no.
“You’re going to wait on customers with this,” Till realises, feeling his heart drop insurmountably.
“Yes, Till, well, that’s sort of the whole point,” Ivan says, before his eyes slightly widen, turning, eugh, manic, “Why? Do you not think you could handle seeing it? Seeing me waiting on other people in such scandalous attire?”
“Shut the fuck up. I’m fine,” Till hisses, despising the instantaneous heat that flashes through his cheeks, “Go do your goddamn job, I don’t give a flying fuck,”
Ivan smirks, “If you say so, darling .”
Why bother using terms of endearment if your significant other says it like it’s supposed to be a term of embarrassment?
Ivan walks off, as Till walks forward to the kitchen, wordlessly handing off his unreadable chicken scratch to the unimpressed and underpaid baker at the back. Gloves.
“How did you pass grade school?” The baker bemoans, “Ivan just left. How am I supposed to translate this?”
“Dunno.” Till says, hollow, his brain unable to catch up to, well, anything really. Bunny ears.
“Yeah, I know you don’t,” scoffs the baker. Issac, he thinks. Actually, he doesn’t think. Not anymore. Not since— Wait.
If Ivan was a bunny. If Till was a cat. If Till wore a cat-tail…
Oh.
Till rushed out through the massive kitchen doors, pushing on them with far too much force, causing him to stumble slightly as he ran towards the booths, towards that fucking bunny.
He slides into a standing position, his shoes giving out below him with a slight squeak as his eyes dart all across the room for Ivan’s back. Finally, it lands on him, talking to two blurred figureheads, Till thinks might be people. And he sees it.
The tail. The scut. The fluffy, pom-pom-like scut.
Okay. Okaaaay. Okay. Sure, yeah, okay. Cool. Okay.
“E-excuse me, we haven’t had anyone get to our table yet,” Till feels someone tapping on his shoulder. He turned behind him with every ounce of sheer willpower he managed to muster. A high-school girl stands there, her face slightly flushed.
“Alright, fine. What do you want?” Till says, curtly. He really doesn’t have the mental space for this.
“A croissant.” The girl murmurs, her eyes drifting towards— oh hell no.
“Just the croissant? A plain, butter one? Unattached? Unfilled? Singular? ” Till snaps, side-stepping to block the girl’s field of vision.
The girl blinks, as if suddenly out of a daze, before she looks at Till, an eyebrow slightly raised, “Unattached?”
“You know what I mean,”
“I really don’t.”
“So, do you want anything with the croissant?” Till says, unperturbed.
“I want an almond croissant,” The girl says. Till feels his pen snap.
“Then why didn’t you say you wanted an almond croissant?” Till asks, desperately trying not to seethe. He was failing miserably if the girl’s frightened expression was anything to go by.
“I was distracted,” She admits, shyly, twiddling with strands of her hair.
“Yeah, I’ll bet. Listen, I don’t get paid enough to get yelled at for not abiding by your incorrect order just because of your own ridiculous distractions—”
“I-I wouldn’t yell at you for that—”
“Moreover, I think it’s super insensitive of you to stare at other waiters, I mean, it’s kind of like you’re cheating on your waiter, y’know?” Till says, as he tries his best to coherently write down her order, a fleeting sense of guilt in the back of his mind for poor Issac.
“Cheating on my waiter,” The girl echoes, “I didn’t think of it like that. I’m sorry, mister. You look lovely as well. Uhm, actually, my friend, she just came from here, she said you looked very hot,” she says, with pity. As if Till needs her fucking pity.
“Learn to lie better, it’s an important adult skill.”
“Can you get my order now or–”
“Patience is another one,” Till bites, before he walks back to hand Issac the new order bill. Issac looks at the note, both eyebrows raised in surprise.
“Wow, this one is actually readable. Are you okay, man?” Issac asks, with genuine concern.
“Ivan’s wearing a bunny suit,” Till says, as he believes that the statement was quite self-explanatory.
Issac scratches the back of his head, “Oh. Uh.”
“Issac, how do I close this place down early?” Till asks suddenly, determination cracking amidst teal.
Issac blinks rapidly, “Uh, like legally? Call Luka, I guess.”
“Yeah, that’s not happening. I already owe him an apology deposit for the outfits.”
“Huh? They look clean enough to me…”
Till snaps his fingers, “I got it, thanks Issac, love you.”
“Sure? Love you too, I guess.” Issac shrugs, clearly wanting this conversation to end, as he hands Till the almond croissant on a gold-rimmed plate. Well, Till was about to grant him just that.
⌗⌗⌗
“And so you see, I think getting the carrot soup would make this bunny very hoppy indeed,” Ivan says, smiling , as the customers in front of him laugh a little too hard for it to be real. Ivan probably knew it wasn’t even funny, that dickwad knew exactly what kind effect he was having on people right now. They’d kiss his feet if he asked them to.
“And for dessert?” One of them asks, provocatively.
Not if Till had anything to say about it.
“A dessert? Isn’t it obvious, ladies? Carrot ca—” Ivan’s voice fades almost immediately as Till’s hands wrap around his tie, tugging him towards Till.
“Ivan,” Till says.
The ladies’ eyes widen, though perhaps not as wide as Ivan’s was about now. Ivan doesn’t deign Till with a response, opting to just stare at him instead.
What are you trying to pull? They read, curious.
Till clicks his tongue, his other hand’s fingers trailing upwards towards his left bunny ear, before stroking it softly. The ladies gasp, and Ivan?
His human ears turn bright red.
“What are you—”
“It’s really unfair, Ivan,” Till interrupts, shutting Ivan up, “You know what a customer told me? She couldn’t focus on ordering, couldn’t focus on the waiter, me, waiting on her. Wanna know why?”
“I can guess,” Ivan says, after a few seconds. Except, he lacks his usual bravado. Till thinks he’s starting to feel inebriated.
Till drops the fingers stroking his bunny ears, hooking them under his jaw instead, tilting it towards himself, “I don’t think this outfit’s very good for business. Luka might not be fit for corporate society,” He says, his voice bordering on sultry.
Ivan’s eyes skirt upwards towards Till’s cat ears, “You think so?” He murmurs, his voice slightly strained.
Till decides to quit with the preamble, tugging on Ivan’s tie harshly so as to smash their lips together. Ivan lets out a muffled yelp in shock as Till immediately deepens it, practically shoving his tongue into Ivan, smack dead in the middle of the café.
“Uh, I think we should uh, go, probably,” One of the patrons at Ivan’s table said, glancing around, “Everyone else seems to,”
“That’s because nobody’s been getting their order,” replies one of the others, as the third one, the flirty one, now sighs dreamily, “I’m fine right here, thanks.”
The second one rolls her eyes, “Fujoshis.”
Till doesn’t really hear the rest, too busy soaking in Ivan’s desperate attempts at keeping any noise contained between the two of them. The second they clear out, Ivan lets out a string of garbled noises as he pushes Till back.
“Fuck, Till. What the fuck?!” Ivan heaves, his eyes shot wide open, taking in gulps of air.
“You should curse more,” Till says, in lieu of an explanation. Ivan looks at him like he’s mad. Looks at Till like he’s mad.
“You never get like this! All hot and bothered in public, what’s up with you?” Ivan stammers, bewildered.
Seriously?
Till begins walking towards Ivan, as Ivan steps backwards, crowding him against the wall, “What’s up with me? You expect to just wear something like, like that, and you ask me, what’s up with me ?!” Till all but hollers. Ivan raises his hands in an attempt to be placating, before Till instantly pins them, relishing in the raven’s wild blush.
“We’re taking these home tonight, by the way,” Till says, before diving into Ivan’s lips once more. Ivan readily accepts it this time around, allowing Till to take the lead as he tries desperately to keep up, which he normally didn’t struggle with. Till thinks it’s adorable.
Till’s tongue slides over Ivan’s bottom lip, over his snaggletooth, causing Ivan to shudder, letting out an undignified moan. He lets go of Ivan’s wrists, yet Ivan keeps them in position, limp, as he lets them roam, fondling with the apron’s waist ties, before slightly squeezing the scut. Ivan lets out a mortified noise that Till doesn’t think he’s ever heard, “Till.”
“Oh, so it’s okay when you do it. It’s okay when you get to render me speechless, when you get to suck lasting bruises into my neck, get to make me feel like I’m worth everything.” Till hisses, frustrated.
“That’s because you are!” Ivan exclaims, glaring right back at Till. Till’s hands drop to his side as he looks at Ivan, his gaze sharp.
Ivan looks away, “These aren’t dirty yet, if we change back into our clothes, we can give these back to Luka without having to pay the deposit,” He says, quietly.
“No,” Till says.
Ivan sighs, tired, “Till—”
“You don’t get to be the only selfish one here, Ivan,” Till says, annoyed.
Ivan hesitates, his gaze dropping to the floor, unwilling to say anything in response to him.
Till closes their distance, except this time, he leaves short, fleeting kisses over every inch of Ivan’s face, the shell of his ear, as Ivan turns pinker with each one.
“This feels like déjà vu,” Ivan whispers, with an airy laugh as Till’s pecks start dipping atop his collarbone.
“Ivan,” Till says, looking back up at Ivan, “You’ve managed to successfully cause me to fully and utterly crash out today. I don’t think I’ve had a singular coherent thought since I saw you in this.”
Ivan flushes, despite his cocky smile, “Is that so?”
“There is nothing I want to do more than to make you feel exactly as brainless as I’ve been today,” Till says, earnestly, as Ivan’s dishelved breath stutters at the implication.
Ivan says nothing for a while, before finally, his eyes droop to Till’s cat-tail, “As long as I get to return the favour, eventually,” He says, looking back at Till meaningfully.
“I think we’ve just arrived at a reasonable compromise,” Till hums, before Ivan’s palms slide, carding his hair, lovingly bridging the gap.
𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃
162525.49 ₩
DETAILS
DATE: 02/04/20XX, 03:00
DESCRIPTION dress deposit (lol sry)
STATEMENT: DOWNLOAD LINK
RECIPIENT
NAME: Luka
ACCOUNT NUMBER: 01041
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