Work Text:
Regret clawed at Joel. Why’d he have to say yes to working with Etho? Now they’re sitting awkwardly at the cafe where Impulse works, waiting for him to be done with his shift. It was a nice cafe, sure, but does anyone really want to sit around waiting for a guy to be done? And Etho was seriously no help. He sat there, one leg arched on the bottom of the chair, looking around like a lost puppy. Like genuinely.
There were tons of other college students at the cafe — no surprise given how close the campus is to it. Joel honestly recognized quite a few faces there, which made it worse he was here. That teal hair sitting by the counter enraged Joel to the point he nearly forgot about the cold that surrounded him. Nearly.
He turned back to face Etho, who he only now realized was wearing no protection from the cold over his pasty arms. Joel’s mouth slipped down into an expression of confusion, surprise, and a bit of disappointment. Etho noticed as he was swiveling his eyes around, to no surprise. He tilted his head to the side like a confused child, only making Joel’s own confusion worse.
“You’re staring.” He remarked.
Thanks captain obvious, Joel had to keep himself from spitting back. “Your arm looks cold. You sure you didn’t bring a jacket or something?”
“Nah. I’m plenty fine. It’s finally comfortable temperatures — I’m just enjoying it.”
“Comfortable?! It’s bloomin’ cold as hell!”
“Yeah, comfortable.” Etho paused. “Oh, snappers! I’m from Canada. Plus, fox. Arctic variety.” A thin finger pointed up from its resting spot toward the ears flicking atop his white hair.
“Oh. I still feel like you should be cold, but, whatever.” Joel shrugged, and went back to observing around the cafe.
Except he went back to Etho. His left arm was covered in scars, the major one at the top mirroring an explosion. They were clearly healed, but they stood out against his pale skin all the same. The same with that beat up red eye. Though they were cool. Joel himself wore quite a good sum of past injuries, and though they were covered up now, he thought they were sick. He thought most scars were sick. Sure, his were from some minor shit, but they were still cool!
Yet he was once again caught. This time, Etho said nothing. Just stared back. Looking up and down Joel as he was doing to him. And so the air filled with the awkwardness of two guys who barely knew each other looking the other up and down. Joel quickly cleared his throat.
“I’ll uh — You want something to drink? Or eat?” He scrambled through his pockets for his wallet before standing upright.
“Hm? A coffee, maybe.”
“What kind?”
“Coffee.”
“What size?”
“Whatever.”
“What kind of coffee do you want?”
“Black.”
“No sugar?”
“Nah.”
“Ok.” Weirdo.. Joel shrugged and made his way to the counter, landing at the end of the line. He pulled his phone from his pocket, scrolling down whatever social media had been opened when he put it down.
The line progressed very slowly. Painfully slow. Like seriously why the hell is the line so slow. It’s so slow, Joel genuinely considered backing out. He said he would time and time again, and of course he didn’t, because by the final time, it was his turn in front of the counter.
He payed no attention to the cashier, just throwing out the order quickly. 16oz black coffee, 24oz very specific mocha order that keeps Joel living that he’s too lazy to remember all the items of, and a blueberry scone. Cash was handed to the cashier about as quickly as the order itself, and he moseyed to wait by the counter where finished orders are called out. He continued as before, scrolling through his phone until he registered the cashier calling his name with the drinks and pastry. He took them with a thankful nod and returned to the table where Etho still sat like a lost child.
“Here’s your straight black coffee.” The fox perked up watching the cup be placed on the table in front of him. He gingerly takes it, drinking it hot like a madman. Joel couldn’t help but watch the spectacle — a guy, with freakishly white hair, no protection from the bitter cold, drinking down a fresh hot cup of black coffee. It took Joel much effort to keep from slinging insults at the guy.
What also took much effort from Joel was to not up and leave the cafe. He ate his scone, he drank his coffee, he scrolled on his phone, he judged Etho, all to no avail. Boredom tore at him with zero pause. So many things he could be not doing but instead he’s sitting here. The urge to just leave and talk to them about the project later was very strong. Strong to the point he somehow located a pen and scribbled down his number on a napkin with a note that simply said ‘bored. make gc if need to talk,’ and he left.
Having to walk home sucked. A lot. Although, he didn’t get far when a certain white haired guy came panting behind him, calling his name through dark gray fabric covering his lower face. “Joel! Hey! Wait up!”
Joel froze in his tracks, turning on his heels around to face Etho. He sighed, a quick relaxer before speaking. “What’s up?”
Etho held up a delicate finger, attempting to catch his breath. The finger moves to the bridge of his nose, slightly pulling down the fabric covering it for better airflow. Joel couldn’t help from watching, but he only managed to sneak peaks at pale skin with some discolored spots, nothing interesting from what he could tell. Still, his eyes followed Etho, eventually craning his neck up as Etho stood up straight. “How come you bolted? You left me there, dude.”
“Did you not read the napkin I left? I got bored. Said to make a group chat if you need to get ahold of me.” He thought those instructions were simple enough.
“You could’ve said something. I feel awful not returning the favor for the coffee..” Etho’s eyes trailed down to the concrete, his hands falling into the deep pockets of his sweatpants.
“You don’t need to return the favor. It was my treat. For having to suffer sitting around for hours. Impulse will text me if he needs something. You don’t have my number so I left it.” He shrugged.
“Still. Let me at least, like.. I don’t know.. do you want a ride? I hate leaving favors one-sided..”
Joel was adamant about Etho just letting it go, although, a ride home sounded pretty nice. He sighed frustratedly. “Where’s your car? Give me that ride. Too cold to be too stubborn about this.”
Etho lifted up with surprise. “Oh uh, it’s over this way! In front of the cafe.” He led the way, white hair and tail flowing in the chill breeze seamlessly. A white car was parked quite unevenly in front of the cafe. Etho stumbled to the passenger side, opening the door with a beckon for Joel.
He pushed himself into the car, stuffing his wings around the seat. The door closed to the side of him, Etho running across to the driver side. He pulled himself in, fumbling around with keys to start the engine. The engine started, and Etho pulled out from the parking spot.
Joel punched in the address to his apartment on the gps, leaning back into the seat. He missed the feeling of Gem’s very modified heated seats, but whatever kept him out of the cold. The radio yapped out some songs, vaguely Christmas-sounding, which ignited some rage in Joel. The scenery flew by, with the occasional stop or turn. The apartment wasn’t too far, so it was quick getting back. As a quick fuck you to Joel though, it started snowing.
“Thanks for the ride.” His hands tucked into his pockets as he pulled himself up out of the car.
Etho nodded, and by the squint of his eyes he smiled. “No problem.”
The apartment was empty — a rare occurrence given Grian and Pearl. No complaints, though. Joel could watch and do whatever he wanted, specifically sit on his phone while some show or YouTube video played on the living room tv without Gem yelling at him to just focus on one.
As he flicked through channels deciding what to throw on, his phone buzzed. He swapped the remote for the phone, where a message from an unknown number had appeared.
hey. you left your number so
who this?
redstone project guy, etho
ok
Joel replaced the contact name in his phone, changing it from the number to ‘weird mask dude’. He placed his phone on the table next to him, sprawling over the chair. This project would be hell, just from one of his partners.