Chapter Text
It’s him again. The dashing, dazzling, dreamy college professor in that dumb sweater two sizes too big with the sewn on elbow pads and too stretched head hole and pants that don’t cover his cute little ankles. He always has that dumb satchel that looks like it went through World War II and lived and those ridiculously round glasses that look too big for his delicate face. To tie it all together, his hair screams that he’s been thoroughly fucked against a wall five minutes ago. He hopes to dear god that’s not the case. After all those filthy dreams he’s had, it would be a real downer for the subject of his fantasies to have a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. He doesn’t even want to think about that road.
Like clockwork, pretty boy wanders over to the Fiction section, then to Science and Technology, then back over to Fiction again. Erik has seen this cycle play over and over again every single day for the last four months. What’s worse it’s the highlight of his afternoons, watching some hot guy’s ass that didn’t even know him. That’s what he gets for working at a bookstore. If he ever noticed Erik’s stalker-like gaze, he’d probably never come back again. His boss would probably fire him too. Fuck.
Erik goes back to reading (yet another) book about architecture after his eyes glaze over the others inside the store, all five of them. He recognizes all of ‘em, and knows they almost never end up buying a book. He thinks they’re just reading the books in the store, remembering their pages, and leaving before it closes. Of course, Erik never pays enough attention to them to really know for certain. He mostly sticks of ogling the tiny professor.
He gets about five pages in before he loses his concentration and goes back to freely gawking at the little ball of sweetness. He absently wonders how many cheesy names he can stamp on the professor before he gets the real one. His eyes follow along with his sugarplum’s path as he flips through book after book, always placing them back neater than before. It was cute, and made Erik’s work easier. Utter perfection. Like his ass. God he loves that ass. It’s fucking creepy how much time he thinks about that ass.
Oh god, he’s coming over. He knows he guy’s gonna fucking buy a book, but every single time he gets this rush of adrenaline, like he’s about to fight a bear. Or that he’s the bear. And he can’t fuck up his honey. God he needs to go back to college and take a course in English. Any English. This is the shit fifth grade boys come up with.
“Hello, Erik.” He’s glowing. Fucking glowing. Like he ate fifty firecrackers and they went off in his eyes. Fuck. How is he gonna work if he’s blind? The books don’t have braille spines.
“Uh. Oh. Hello.” Wait, how does he know… the name tag. Erik unconsciously reaches up to awkwardly readjust it, like he has to say ‘hey, glad you made it’ to his damn name tag. Normally he never wears the dumb piece of plastic since nobody actually talks in this god forsaken paper deathtrap, but his boss nagged him to ‘be more professional’. Back to the problem at hand. The professor is talking to him. SOS.
“I noticed that you’re wearing a name tag today. Special occasion?” Oh my. He’s trying to start a conversation. He’s not prepared for this. It’s like Pluto being denounced as a planet all over again.
“Oh. No.” God can he sound any dumber. The answer? No. “My Boss was getting on my ass about not wearing it, so. Here it is.”
“I see. Well, now I know you have a lovely name at least. Erik with a K. How charming.” It’s so silent he could hear his own heartbeat. It’s telling him to get his shit together.
“Oh.” Oh my fucking god Erik stop starting with ‘oh’ already! “Thank you. What’s your name?” What is this, kindergarten? Is this the part where he asks if they can be best friends? God he’s a train wreck, except a train wreck still ends with a jacked up train. There’s going to be nothing left of him after this. There won’t even be lumps of him lying around.
“Oh! Ah, I haven’t introduced myself, how rude of me. My name is Charles. I’m a professor.” The words rolls out of Charles like he’s a professional sushi cooker. Maker. Whatever. God his mind is play-doh right now. The accent doesn’t help.
“I’m Erik.” He already knew that Erik. That’s how this started. “I work… here.” He should’ve let Azazel beat some English language development into him. Should’ve let Frost drill his ass about not talking like a five year old on pot. The regret. At least they aren’t in the back today. There’s some kind of savior after all.
“I’ve noticed. I’m starting to think you’re the only employee here, and the storage is manned by robots.” Charles is trying so hard here. You can’t do this to him Erik, not when he’s trying so hard. You gotta talk. Just do it. Just fucking do it.
“I’m not surprised you think that since your money is single handedly keeping this store open.” That’s not how you have a conversation Erik. Erik no. Please Erik no. “You come in every day and get something while the other five fucks,” Damn you mouth! “Treat this place like a library. The worst part is that I think it actually gets people to come in, having human beings inside. Cute ones. ” Ok, now’s the time to shut up Erik. Actually, that time actually passed like, a year ago, but better than never.
Charles is silent, and looking anywhere but Erik. It’s like he just killed a unicorn. No, five unicorns. And strung together their horns like a horrifying headpiece. But wait.
“Did you just accidentally call me cute?”
Replay on the words referee. And the ref says yea, you dumb fuck, you did say that. Out loud.
“... If I admit I did, would you run away and never come back or agree to erase that part of your memory?” The train is already wrecked Erik, no need to toss another one in.
Wait a minute. Is that… blush? On his face? Cover those precious cheeks of his? Oh my god. Erik, you’re doing something right with your life. Remember to give yourself a gold star after this one, boy.
“I’d be flattered actually. Also, it’s… kinda cute how the words keep coming right out of you.” Erik you’ve accomplished your goal in life. It’s ok to die in peace now. “I always imagined you… differently.” Oh sweet baby Jesus. Did Charles just admit that he thinks about him? Erik needs a chair. Someone, please, get him a chair.
“Oh.”
“Yea.”
Frost is laughing. He doesn’t have to see her to know. She might not even know why she’s doing it.
“Um, anyways, can you ring this up for me?”
“O-oh. Yea. Sure.”
Erik fumbles the book as he scans it in, shivering under Charles’s gaze. This is more stressful than his English Finals in high school.
“Let me get you a bag.”
Before Charles protests, he rushes to the back. C’mon now Erik, this is your chance. Just. Do something. His eyes frantically fly over every object in the room, and he sees it. He goes over to the sticky notes on the desk and snags a pen. His hand is shaking as he scribbles down his phone number, under ‘I promise I’m not actually this awkward. Erik’. He flips open the book to page two and inserts the note. On the way back, he snatches a bag off the counter and shoves the book inside.
“Here.”
“Thank you, Erik.” Charles shows him a smile that could speed up global warming by fifty years. He gives Erik a small wave goodbye as he exits the store, the door falling shut behind him. The bell attached rings twice.
+++
Charles’s mind drifts to Erik on the bus home. His personality was unexpected, but delightful nevertheless. He craves more. He reviews their interaction and thinks about the bag. Why did Erik give it to him? He plucks out his new book and flips to the first page. Nothing out of the ordinary, except there seems to be something on the page after. He turns to page two, and reads over the note. He smiles the entire way home.