#and darren goes from calm and collected to the living embodiment of Gay Panic(TM)

[thereluctantinquisitor]

❝ I’ll pay for your [meal/coffee/groceries/etc] ! ❞ for modern darrus? :))

Okay so I used the prompt for inspiration but didn’t really incorporate the exact quote, so… don’t sue me!

                                                         –

“I, ah… just a second. Hold on.” 

Cyrus could feel his cheeks heating up as he frantically dug through his wallet, checking every card slot for a loose coin. Despite what felt like desperate tunnel-vision on his fumbling hands, he was hyper-aware of the line behind him, other people’s groceries already lined up on the belt, fingers thrumming along the handles of shopping carts. God, this wasn’t happening. This wasn’t fucking happening. He’d find something. He had to have something lying around…

Glancing up at the unimpressed cashier, he swore softly to himself, tossing his wallet on the narrow counter and digging through his pockets. His fingertips brushed paper, and fora second he allowed himself to hope, but he just pulled out an old receipt, crinkled beyond recognition, stained slightly blue from his jeans. He threw that on the counter too, his heart hammering in his chest because he was at the front of the fucking line and he’d been rummaging for over a minute and people were watching.

The cashier cleared his throat. “Sir, do you need to—”

— “No, I don’t.” In truth, Cyrus had no idea what the guy was even planning to suggest. Use his phone to pay? Go to an ATM? Yeah, sorry buddy, neither option was going to make this shit any better. He must have spent the last of his money on gas, and his paycheck wasn’t coming in for another five days.

Fuuuuck.

He glanced at the bag of groceries. It wasn’t even enough that he could pretend he had just got carried away and over-shopped. It was basic shit - water, a couple of cans of spaghetti, alcohol wipes, bread. That sort of thing. Someone coughed behind him in the line and Cyrus felt the last of his resolve waver and crumble to dust.

“Just… forget it,” he muttered, snatching his empty wallet off the counter and shoving it back into his pocket. “I don’t—”

— “Hey, there you are!” 

A loud voice interrupted Cyrus’ living nightmare. He turned to see a tall blond man working his way through the line, smiling sunnily, murmuring ‘excuse me’ and ‘sorry’ as he wove his way towards…

… him.

“Phew, just made it! Thanks for stalling. Forgot which checkout you went to.” He winked at Cyrus and placed a small pack of ibuprofen on the counter. “Don’t you just hate it when you remember something at the last minute?” He seemed to direct the comment to the cashier before turning to commiserate with the person next in line. Apparently the plight was universal, as both laughed quietly and nodded, as though partaking in some kind of inside joke. Still smiling, the blond turned back to the cashier, slipping a bill out of his wallet. “Anyway, really sorry for the hold up. How much?”

The rest of the transaction passed in something of a blur. The stranger paid for… well, everything. All the irritation Cyrus had sensed from the people around him before seemed to give way into a strange kind of exasperated amusement as the blond gave the line a final apologetic wave, scooping up the grocery bag and nodding his head towards the door. “Alright, let’s go.”

“Uh… sure.” In truth, Cyrus had no fucking idea what to do. The guy had his groceries. Well, more like commandeered his groceries. He could just take them, really. They were technically his. As the blond moved towards the automatic doors Cyrus found himself following like a lost puppy, although without the requisite enthusiasm. It was wariness that kept him a few paces behind the man, his attention on the bag swinging absently by his side.

What was he up to?

They paused once they were near the edge of the carpark, near a cafe in the process of recovering from the afternoon rush. The tall man turned, smiled again, then seemed to realise with a start that he was still holding the bag. “Oh! Here - sorry. These are yours.”

Cyrus just stared at the bag, then glanced back up at the blond. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.” He waggled the bag, the paper crackling as it swayed. “But I did, so… you might as well take them.”

Every fiber of Cyrus’ being wanted to tell him to keep them. That he didn’t need them. But the empty pit in his stomach was a constant reminder that he wasn’t in any position to skip another meal. Shit, he’d salivated over canned spaghetti. 

So he took the bag.

“Thanks,” he murmured, then cleared his throat. “Look, I don’t have a lot right now, but I can pay you back. Just… I don’t know. Tell me a place to meet you next week.”

The blond seemed taken aback by the suggestion, paused, then broke into a bright smile. “Hey, I’m more than happy to meet up with you next week, but I don’t want you to pay me back or anything. Just… think of it as a favour.”

Cyrus shook his head. Mostly in disbelief. “A favour?” he repeated. “I don’t even know you.”

“Oh! Right.” The blond immediately held out his hand. “Darren Miller.” 

Feeling like he was constantly on the back foot and racing to catch up, Cyrus shook his hand on instinct. “Uh… Cyrus.”

“Nice to meet you!” His grip was firm. If anything, it lingered a little longer than Cyrus was used to but… not necessarily in a bad way. He wasn’t really sure how to explain it. When Darren did let go, it was with a kind of amused half-smile that did something strange to Cyrus’ chest. “There,” he continued with a satisfied nod. “Now we know each other.”

“Not really…” Letting his hand drop to his side, Cyrus tried to salvage some remnant of his pride. “Listen, I was serious about paying you back. I don’t just take money from people.”

Darren cocked his head, a lock of his blond hair flopping from one side to the other. “You didn’t. I gave it to you.” He shrugged. “Besides, someone paid for mine once. It’s kinda like… ugh, what’s that thing from that movie? With the kid and the assignment…?”

Cyrus quirked a brow at the man. “Pay it forward?”

It was, apparently, the correct answer. Darren’s face lit up and he nodded excitedly. “Yeah! Wow, I haven’t seen that in so long…”

“It was… kind of a downer. From memory.” Cyrus didn’t remember much of it - only that he cried at the end. But he was a kid at the time, which meant there was probably nothing to really cry over.

“Yeah, I cried so hard at the end.” Darren laughed as Cyrus watched him, wondering if the tall man could read his mind somehow. “But then again, I cry in most movies. And some ads. Have you seen that Thai life insurance ad? It’s so…” Something about Cyrus’ expression must have finally registered because Darren trailed off and, for the first time, a pink flush crept up his neck and onto his cheeks. “I’m… rambling, aren’t I?”

Despite himself, Cyrus gave a snort of amusement. “Yeah. A little.” 

Was it weird that a part of him wanted to add ‘but I don’t mind’? 

“Sorry. I do that when I’m nervous. AH, I mean—” For a few seconds, it seemed like Darren was planning to salvage his sentence, but then he just sighed and gave up with a sheepish chuckle. “Just… sorry. I’m not normally this bad.”

Nervous? Why would he be nervous? He’d just sidled through a grocery line like Cyrus’ knight in domestic armour. Shit, Cyrus was going to eat tonight because of him. “No, I… you’re fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Darren favoured him with a grateful look. Then his gaze flicked back down to the small grocery bag and a faint frown creased his brow. “Those… aren’t meant to last you a week, are they?”

Cyrus froze. How did he…?

Right. He said he could pay him back next week. Fuck, why did he even open his big mouth?

“It’s enough,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t need much.”

“Right. Okay then.” Darren was nodding, but there was something about his tone that suggested he didn’t believe the lie. Admittedly, it was a pretty poor one. “Hey, how about instead of meeting up next week, we might up again later tonight?”

Cyrus frowned. “Why?” He already told the guy he wouldn’t have the money until next week. 

Again, Darren’s cheeks reddened, and he reached up, scratching his cheek. “I dunno… might be fun? There’s this bar a few blocks away that does open mic Fridays. You get a mix of things - singers and comedians and stuff. It’s always interesting. If you’re, ah… y’know… interested.”

It took a few solid moments before Cyrus realised what was actually happening. “Are you asking me out?”

Darren chuckled, seeming almost relived that Cyrus had at least understood that much. “Trying to! Although I’m getting the feeling I’m not doing a very good job.” He sighed. “Sorry. I don’t really… do this often. If I’m making you uncomfortable just say the word and I’ll get out of your hair.”

“No, you’re… you’re fine.” In truth, Cyrus wasn’t used to being asked out. Picked up? Sure. He cleared his throat, acutely aware of the bag of groceries in his hand. “Look, I want to go with you, but I don’t exactly have the cash for eating out.”

“That’s okay! My idea, my shout. That’s how it works, right?”

Cyrus supposed that was true. Besides, if all else failed, it was a free meal. One that wasn’t from a can. So, he relaxed, regarding Darren for the first time with something other than skepticism. “You know what? Sure. Why not.”

The grin the blond man shone back at him was dazzling - it was like Cyrus had made his whole year in a few simple words. “Seriously? Great! Here, let me give you my number…”

As Darren rummaged around for his phone, Cyrus couldn’t help but shake his head slightly in disbelief. Of all things he expected to happen today, having his groceries paid for and going on a date was the furthest from likely. 

But hey, maybe sometimes even he got to catch a break.