#(Miguel i luv you.... and I luv my glittery thot of a son dkjf gnkd gndfg )

[ducktales-wco-oo]

Miguel likes being a lifeguard. The ability to help people, the tall chair, the beach, the uniform being just little swim shorts and a shirt that he can leave open. What can he say? He knows he looks good, and he's in his favourite place in the world. The beach, with people talking to him even if they don't know him, and people looking at him even if they don't dare talk to him. It'd be hard not to feel confident.

But when his shift ends and he switches out the speedo and open shirt for pants, a polo, and the stupid little apron every barista has to wear? The confidence becomes less genuine and casual. By the tail end of this shift, he's tired and frustrated.

So of course some asshole has to come in as if he owns the place and order something ridiculously complex.

Not that Miguel can't handle the order. It's just annoying, and he's so close to clocking out, and the whipped cream keeps coming out all uneven today and getting on his hands. But it's fine. Everything's fine. He'll just push this damn coffee across the counter and give whomever ordered it just a little trouble.

Miguel's about to say something snarky when he looks up and catches his breath. That's not just some asshole who ordered an elaborate coffee. That's a damn cute asshole. Cute enough that his hundred pumps of syrup suddenly don't seem so frustrating, even if they did get Miguel's hands sticky. This guy could get Miguel's hands sticky any time he wanted.

"...Hi."

Great job, M. That's exactly the smooth start you wanted.

"I mean, hey, I'm Miguel, my shift ends in 10 if you need someone to carry you around after the sugar crash this is gonna give you."

- ✩ { @calvinsocs } ✩

{ ☆ } Marquel knows that his order is complicated. Some might even say needlessly-so… but it’s what he likes. With all the shit he goes through on a daily basis, he figures he’s owed at least a coffee that’s exactly to his liking. Something tasty and perfect that he doesn’t have to put in the trouble of making himself. Why would he? That’s what THIS guy is for. Marquel isn’t about to compromise one of his favorite pick-me-ups in life just so someone doesn’t have to do their job. Besides, it’s not like he’s an ass about it… Unless they get it wrong. But even then he’s not causing a scene and demanding to see managers.

Only that they make it again.

Thankfully for this guy, the sugar-bomb of a drink is made to near-perfection, Marquel giving it a quick glance when it’s slid over, gaze finally raising from the phone it had been glued to even when ordering the damn thing. Fingers still expertly tap against the screen, a status update to the masses about some mundane thing he knows the people will eat up just like they always do. Helps him seem ‘relatable’, stay an integral part of their lives like the news or a cup of coffee with their donut, even without them fully realizing it. Hell, he quickly snaps a pic of his aesthetically-pleasing drink before he bothers to look at the man who made it… and that’s only because the guy bothered to talk to him first.

Brow quirks slightly as the stranger greets him, the only show of interest from an otherwise bored-looking face, gaze half-lidded and beak puckered into a small, contemplative pout as baby blue hues— a clear color that borders the line between wondering if it’s natural or not, which it isn’t —flit up and down the others body in a VERY open study. Seemingly content with what he sees as well as the line spewed from the stranger’s hot mouth, pout curls into a smirk, an impressed hum lightly hinting the air. Not that this guy is the first to ever hit on him before, not by a long shot. But no matter how many times it happens, it never stops being amusing… and he’s gotta give the barista credit for just GOING for it with that line. It’s tasteful, compared to what most people jokingly offer straight away. Although with Marquel’s reputation and merely his manner of carrying himself, that’s to be expected.

❝  Thanks for the concern, baby~  ❞  Marquel responds without missing a beat, a slim digit snagging a bit of whipped cream from the top of his drink as he playfully continues,  ❝  But it takes a li’l more than just some sugar to take me out.  ❞  Licking he cream from his finger a bit slower than necessary, Marquel shamelessly keeps eye contact through the smirked gesture, lashes fluttering as he adds,  ❝  Buuuuuut... I do like being carried. And you—  ❞  Cue his gaze flitting up and down once more as he chuckles,  ❝  —look like you could handle the job.  ❞  

He doesn’t actually expect to be carried around— although that’d be funny as Hell —but Marquel can’t NOT bring attention to the differences in their stature. A big guy like that and a lithe parrot... Definitely on opposite spectrums of body types.

❝  Yeah. I guess I could chill here until you’re free to hang. Could be fun~  ❞   Marquel ends with a casual shrug, as if he couldn’t care either way.  ❝  Unless you were just spewing an empty line?  ❞  { ☆ }