Chapter Text
Since the death of his wife, Jack Abbot was just trying to survive. He pumped his life full of so many activities that he never got a moment alone with his thoughts. From his day job as a cop, his other job as a hardware store owner, being a dad, and keeping up with the other veterans he knew from group therapy, Jack was a busy man. He liked it that way.
His son was the best thing in his life. Sam was only six years old, but Jack couldn't remember his life before him.
Sam was watching the front counter of the hardware shop, Abbot Hardware (creative, he knew), when a younger blond man walked in. Jack had been trying to let Sam get used to being behind the counter, since the kid insisted on it anyways, so he did his best to stay stocking the shelves instead of running up to help.
The young man gave a little smile to Sam as he walked in. He had curly blond hair, short on the sides and longer on top and in the back. He wore a blue sweater rolled up to his sleeves which complimented his blue eyes and black denim shorts that looked well loved. Additionally, he was very very pretty. Unrelated, Jack suddenly felt like a pervert.
The young man gave Jack a polite smile and slipped past him toward the nails. He seemed like he knew what he was looking for, so Jack left him alone.
Sam decided that simply would not do.
When the blond made his way up to the counter to check out, Sam picked up one of their color fan decks and showed him.
"You could add one of these to your bill for fifty percent off!" He said in his best salesman voice.
The stranger smiled, amusement toying with his pink lips. "Yeah? What would I need one for?"
"In case you wanna paint your walls. My dad mixes all the colors himself with the machine in the back. You can make your favorite color!"
He pretended to think, chuckling to himself. "Hmm, can he make a pretty yellow?"
Sam nodded enthusiastically. "So, think you want it?"
Jack sighed and walked over, picking Sam up before he could up sell any farther. He seemed largely unbothered, though.
"I'm Sam!" He grinned , sticking a hand out.
"Dennis," the man replied, shaking his little hand gingerly.
Jack gently shook the boy in his arms. "Please stop harassing customers."
"You said I could work the counter!"
"Work, not bully at."
Dennis smiled, watching the exchange. He handed Jack the fan deck as he was ringing items up.
"Are you sure?" Jack asked.
He shrugged. "I've been up sold . Quite the salesman you've got."
Jack nodded and sighed. "Yeah, sorry."
Jack finished bagging his things and watched him collect them. Their brown paper sacks always were hard to carry, and Jack always felt bad watching people struggle with them.
"Lotta supplies there," Jack hummed.
Dennis nodded, pressing his lips together. "Yeah, found a hole in my floor this morning. You'll never guess how," he said, holding up a bandaged leg.
"Rough. Do you, uh, need help? Fixing it, I mean," Jack stumbled.
He shook his head and walked to the door. "That's alright, thanks…I didn't catch your name?"
"Oh, uh, Jack."
"Thanks Jack. Thank you, Sam."
He slipped out the door, bell ringing above his head. Jack sat Sam down and messed up his hair.
"He was nice," Sam said, now standing on his dad's feet.
Jack grabbed his hands and walked with him like that. "Yeah? Think he's a tourist, or here to stay?"
"Here to stay!"
Jack chuckled. That was unlikely. This was too sleepy of a town for a boy like him, he'd be packed up and moving in a few weeks. This was probably a summer thing that would be over in two months.
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The "now hiring" sign above the door of the beach side diner had been there for years. Jack kind of figured that they would never get the extra hands they needed. In tiny towns like this one, most people had their own little businesses to run. Every summer, there was an influx of teenagers looking for jobs, but somehow the diner always got missed by applications.
Jack and one of his cop buddies walked down from the station to the diner after a long day of…nothing. There wasn't a lot of crime around town. Just some old ladies who called sometimes when they heard noises outside, noises that usually ended up being stray cats.
They sat in a booth by the window. Jack stared out the window while his friend stared at the menu.
"Look's like they finally got a waiter," his friend hummed, looking across the room.
Jack looked up and saw…Dennis. Dennis who looked between him and his friend before paling and scurrying away. Huh.
A different waitress took their order and went to ring it in. Jack watched her and Dennis whisper behind the counter. She very obviously gestured at Jack's table while Dennis fought her to put her arms down and talk quieter.
"You know him?" Jack's friend asked, sipping the coffee he was brought with a raised eyebrow.
Jack shrugged. "He came into the shop the other day."
"What, did you hit him with a hammer? He looks scared as hell."
"He seemed fine yesterday."
Jack's friend shrugged and went about finishing his coffee. They ate quietly, sharing details of their days and talking about their kids.
Sam was just about all that Jack talked about with anybody.
"Whose turn to pay?" Jack's friend asked.
Jack waved his hand. "I got it this time."
He chuckled. "Don't scare that poor waiter any more."
Jack rolled his eyes and pulled out his card, walking up to the register where Dennis was working.
He gave Jack a shy smile, but his eyes stayed on Jack's uniform as he took the card.
"Hey, again. Didn't know you were so…shy," Jack said, trying to sound friendly.
Dennis's teeth dug into his own bottom lip. "Maybe you just don't know me very well," he hummed, looking at the register instead of Jack.
Jack watched his face carefully. He saw the fidgety nerves he saw in the shoplifting high schoolers he usually got tasked with stopping at the doors of the various stores in town.
"Did I do something to upset you?" Jack asked, leaning down to talk to him.
"No, you didn't."
"Then why-"
Dennis put Jack's card in his hand. "Have a good day."
Jack watched him retreat back to the kitchen. He furrowed his brow, thinking about the young man's vaguely apologetic tone.