Chapter Text
It was cold. Well, as cold as it could get during a winter Texas afternoon when there wasn’t a freeze, the kind of weather Starie waited for every year. It really wasn’t Stopwatch’s kind of thing, they preferred the weather that usually came during Spring and Fall, some of the best times to go outside.
Stopwatch had just parked their car right outside of the local coffee shop, turning off the white vehicle and stuffing their keys into their duffel bag. A new episode had been filmed today, and they had stayed a little later than usual to help Starie take the equipment off the field. Sure, it meant they had to stay out in the cold for longer than they would have hoped to, but they couldn’t leave her to do it all by herself, even if she swore it was her responsibility as host. It was theirs too, they were the co-host!
They gripped the handle of the car door, grabbing their yellow duffel bag and pushing it open before stepping out. They had just intended to just get some coffee, maybe even a cookie, and work on challenge plans for future episodes, their usual post-production routine. As they walked towards the doors, they noticed a certain… red bucket sitting at one of the tables, his gaze fixated on a seemingly new laptop sitting in front of him. Oh.
So Bucket was here. For a second, Stopwatch considered turning back, skipping today entirely, but they decided against it. Them and Bucket were… friends? No, friendly, but they had never interacted outside of the show without the competition in mind… he was cool, sure. And smart. Well, not smart with common sense, but whatever.
They took a deep breath, gripping the door handle. It wasn’t too hard, just… don’t look at him, don’t even glance in his general direction. “You got this. Just go.” They whispered to themself. Yeah, words of encouragement.
The bell chimed as Stopwatch gently opened the door, stepping inside. The first thing they noted was how the shop seemed to be running low on customers today. Huh, that was weird, this was usually a pretty popular spot. Their gaze shifted to Bucket for a split second before they caught themself. When they reached the counter they got their usual order and, due to the lack of customers, was able to wait at the counter. Or maybe that was an excuse to not have to choose where to sit yet.
From the corner of their eye, they could see Bucket’s fingers moving across his keyboard, most likely writing an email or writing a document for work. Boring stuff. When Bucket waved at them they made sure to look very interested in some spec on the granite counter, tapping their foot on the ground impatiently.
cmon… hurry up…
(This will be finished soon I just lwk don’t want the draft to be deleted and really need to post something to prove I didn’t die in a plane crash.)