#and on top of everything it’s just straight up embarrassing to be unemployed and completely directionless about college and living at home

[steviescrystals]

i seriously need to get a new job and start making money again asap bc i cannot keep living at home much longer it’s driving me insane

(wrote an entire essay in the tags without meaning to oops)

[mourntheantagonist]

Happy Valentine’s Day Everyone!! It’s Finally the Day to share my piece for the @harringroveheart-on !! (If you didn’t already see it posted on ao3 yesterday)I went with the prompt: secret admirer!! enjoy some flangst and have a wonderful day whether you celebrate the holiday or not!! ❤️

Fortunately

read on ao3

***

Billy needs a job.

He’s two months fresh out of the hospital but that doesn’t matter. The local pool was closed for the winter and Neil was adamant that he get out and find work as soon as he was able to walk, despite the fact that he could only do so for only short periods at a time.

And he’s forced to take what he can get. January wasn’t the best time of year to be looking for work in Hawkins. He told himself he’d apply at any place with a help wanted sign displayed in their window. And he did. Application after application. Stellar fucking resume. The only problem was that not many people were looking to hire on the guy who looked just minutes away from death each time they saw him. Didn’t want to put the guy with the hideous scars and the sickly frame in front of customers. Though, they’d usually let him off with the same similar speech about how he “just wasn’t what they were looking for.”

Luckily for Billy, there was one place that was just as desperate as he was. Li’s Kitchen. The local Chinese restaurant that had just needed to make several layoffs to keep themselves from closing. They quickly hired him on to wash dishes in the back because he was ready and willing to work for minimum wage. Making just $3.35 an hour, it was enough and at least it got Neil off of his back.

So he’d haul his ass into work every day on the dot. Walking the full half-mile distance through snowy paths to the restaurant since the Camaro was still out of commission. Trudging along, praying he didn’t slip because his ribs were still fragile and just a simple impact of a good fall could break them again. The walk was simply exhausting. By the time he’d enter through those double doors and set off the bell hung above, he’d be completely out of breath and exhausted and his shift hadn’t even started yet. But fortunately it was just washing dishes. How hard could it be?

Apparently. Pretty fucking hard for a guy who could hardly stand up straight. The heat radiating from the hot steam of the water making him lightheaded almost instantaneously. The boiling hot water against his arms and hands sending him back to those days flayed out in the sun as the ultraviolet rays burned through the skin. The liquid dripping from his face that he couldn’t differentiate from steam or sweat taking him back to the sauna. Feeling his insides heat up and burn like fire inside his gut. Trapped in a prison that was his own body. He just wanted to crawl into a bucket of ice.

His only saving grace was that this time it was winter, and he wasn’t actually flayed. Just overheated and weak. He'd take his breaks behind the restaurant digging his feet into deep snow and letting the chill breeze cool him down. Lighting up a cigarette to get his body to an equilibrium of hot and cold. But the good feeling only lasted as long as he stood outside, immediately getting the same sick to his stomach feeling as soon as he walked back in. Hunched over the sink in the kitchen just trying to move fast enough and stay standing.

He figured he was lucky enough to get the job, that he couldn’t afford to disappoint, because then he’d be entirely out of options. Unemployed and still stuck under his father’s roof on Cherry Lane, this time accompanied by a deeper rage. If Billy didn’t have a job to get to, Neil would have no reason to hold back anything. No reason not to leave bruises or cuts. But it was getting harder and harder as the days progressed. Never enough time in the day to rest and recover enough to brave the next one. He was running on borrowed energy and excessive amounts of caffeine.

There came a moment when he nearly passed out into the sink full of porcelain plates. His breathing became shallow as his vision got blurry and dark. His head spun and his balance faltered and he needed a fucking drink of water.

One of the servers caught him just before he was about to go down. A man older than him but not by much. Same build as him before the accident but easily with an additional five inches on him. Billy was probably at least ten pounds lighter now that a bulk of his muscle had wasted away in that hospital bed. Making him easy to catch.

“You look like shit hargrove.” is what the man says, but Billy barely registers it because everything is muffled. The sounds of running water into the metal sink being the loudest noise he can hear. The man tosses one of Billy's arms over his shoulder and hauls him into the break room. Billy’s doing exactly zero of the work. Letting his legs fall limp and his feet drag against the tile floor. He sits him down in one of the metal chairs and hands him a small cup of water from the jug. “Drink you’re dehydrated” he says, tilting the bottom of the cup upwards so that it’s forced into Billy's mouth and down his throat. “The dinner rush is almost out, I’ll take care of the rest of the dishes, you just stay in here and try not to pass out again, sound like a plan?”

Billy nods his head and drinks the rest of the water in the cup before letting his head fall into his hands and his eyes fall shut as he tries to regain his composure. Cool himself down and slow his heart rate.

By the time his coworker — Zachary, he remembers — comes back into the break room he’s better. Not quite ready to get back to the sink and the hot steam cloud that comes with his job, but better.

“When’s the last time you’ve eaten kid?” Kid. Sounds really odd coming from someone who could be no older than thirty.

“I had toast this morning.” Billy hadn’t actually been eating much lately. Not finding the time in the day to sit down to have a meal in between work and recovering from said work. His hours conflicted with family dinner so he was left to fend for himself. Neil made it very clear that what was in the cupboards did not belong to him. So all he had to his name was a single loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter.

“Well guess what. It’s closing time and you’re not leaving here without a meal. So go sit down at one of the tables and pick anything you want from the menu.” Does Billy have pride? Yes. But is his stomach turning and his mouth watering at just the thought of some orange chicken? Also yes. So instead of arguing with him about how he can take care of himself, which is debatable at this point, he just says thank you and finds himself a table in the corner. He doesn’t expect Zachary to follow him all the way there and sit down right across from him.

“Don’t worry about paying. My dad will cook it up for free.”

Oh right. Zachary Li... The owner’s son.

And suddenly things went from awkward to outright uncomfortable for Billy. Because he was sitting here eating dinner with another man who would be footing the bill. Sure, Zachary was just his coworker and in his mind the exchange had absolutely no weight to it, but to billy it was so fucking heavy. The thought of Neil barging in to see the display and not giving two seconds to read the situation before he started throwing punches. Because it didn’t matter if it was a date or just dinner with a coworker. If it looked a certain way, then that’s how it was.

But the other thing was he couldn’t just get up now. Not without an explanation. So he sucked it up and said he’d have the orange chicken, earning a scowl followed by a laugh and a nod because of course he’d order that and none of the authentic chinese food dishes. But then he ordered the same thing because they both have fallen victim to american colonization.

And chef Li made a damn good orange chicken.

And this one did not disappoint. But it’s not like he really had the chance to taste it since he was too busy inhaling it. Finishing his entire plate before Zachary had even made a dent. And Billy was slightly embarrassed by it. But zachary said nothing. Just continued with his own meal without acknowledging that Billy had scarfed his own down in no time at all. Making other dry conversation with Billy and constantly refilling his water glass with the pitcher every time it got below half full.

When he’s just about finished is when chef Li brings out a small plate with fortune cookies sitting on top, one for each of them. They each take their own and crack them open.

“What’s it say? I got an inch of time is an inch of gold for the thousandth time. I swear elizabeth is getting lazy with these”

Billy looks down at his, and can’t help but laugh.

“A beautiful, smart, and loving person will be coming into your life.”

Hahaha. Hilarious.

“Well then we better hope that these things come true. Though I have a lot of time and have not seen any gold fall into my lap yet.” he laughs and pops the cookie into his mouth, Billy does the same. “Hey dad, you gonna open one?”

“Sure.” he says. Pulling one from the container in the back and breaking it open quite aggressively. “Allow compassion to guide your decisions. Boring.”

They both just laugh. But then Zachary gets this weird look in his eyes. “Hey dad? What if Billy made the fortune cookies instead?”

“Who would wash the dishes?”

Zachary just shot him a look. Yeah, Billy's medical condition and clear exhaustion didn’t go unnoticed by the staff. That must have been what that look meant.

“Read that fortune again, Dad.”

He looks down at the slip of the paper in his hand and almost instantly tosses it to the floor.

“You’re a pain in my ass Zach. alright then Billy, you available in the mornings? I can have Elizabeth show you the ropes tomorrow and if you’re any good you won’t have to wash dishes anymore. That will be my ungrateful son's job.”

“Hey-“

“No ‘hey’ nothing. Have compassion, remember?” he swats Zach with the towel that hung over his shoulder.

Billy just stayed silent for the whole exchange. Only nodding his head when asked if he was free in the mornings. He wanted to tell them to fuck off. To tell them he could do his job perfectly fine. A bold faced lie, but still. However, he also recognized that he couldn’t continue the way he was going. He was three shifts away from an ambulance ride to the emergency room, and that would just piss off Neil further.

So instead of speaking up, he silently agreed, and suddenly found himself walking the same distance he did every day, this time at seven in the morning when the rest of his house was still asleep. Another bonus. Less he had to see Neil, the better. And he’d be home in time for family dinner, the only meal he was welcome to join. And as much as he hated sitting across the table from his Dad, Susan's cooking served as a pleasant enough distraction.

Liz gladly showed him how to make the cookies. Constantly expressing how much she hated making them and is happily giving up the job to billy. That didn’t make him feel too great about it.

But then it really wasn’t bad. Just tedious. Slightly boring and mindless. Made his hands ache after a couple hours of folding the fortunes and squeezing out the batter, but it was ten times less painful than doing the dishes. He got to make them while sitting down at a table before the place even opened. No crowded kitchen or hot running water. The only heat he experienced came from opening and closing the oven, and that only happened for seconds at a time.

And the best part.

He got to make the fortunes.

Typing out several sheets of sample fortunes on a typewriter, cutting them into slips using the paper guillotine. It was definitely strange they never bothered to check his work. They had way too much trust in a guy like Billy to write fortunes. Free will to throw anything in there.

Did he ever veer away from the script posted to the wall? No. But the fact that he could was so funny to him.

He never once considered he would actually want to throw something else into those fortune cookies, until that first tuesday in the middle of his shift right as they opened for lunch and he saw a familiar figure enter through the glass doors into the restaurant. Bell chiming behind him. Craning his head upwards so he could get a closer look he recognizes Steve, picking up a to-go order still wearing the dark green family video vest. Steve didn’t even notice him. Just grabbed his white paper bag, dropped the bill on the counter, and walked out the door. Flashing a smile at Liz who was up running the counter.

But Billy, he saw Steve. He stared at Steve for the duration of his time in the store because he was totally and completely whipped. Totally entranced for long enough that the cookies he was folding had already hardened, and Zach was giving him a weird look when Billy visibly shook at the sound of the bell chiming for the second time, pulling him from the trance.

“So harrington, huh? He’s your fortune?”

Billy got all wide eyed and jerked his head to the right to look at him. Completely zoned out and unprepared to defend himself, instead just stuttering out a string of nonsensical “I”s and “no”s and “it’s not”s. Failing miserably to get the lies past his tongue.

“Relax dude. I don’t really give a shit. Elizabeth, however, might. Girl doesn’t stop talking my ear off about you.”

But that just goes in one ear and out the other. Billy still continues to stutter out as best of a denial he can but his heart is racing, his stomach is churning, his palms are sweating, and the cookies are burning!

“Shit.” it’s the first full sentence he’s been able to get out. Rushing over to the oven and pulling out the hot pan of nearly completely blackened circles.

And Zach is just standing there laughing. Waving the smoke out of his face as Billy tries to blow out the miniature fire he caused on one of the cookies.

“Still gonna try and deny it?” he says.

“Fuck off. Seriously.”

Zach just backs away. Hands in the air. “Okay, okay. I’ll mind my own business. Lover boy.”

Billy promptly tosses one of the finished cookies at his face. “Whatever you think you saw. Keep it to your fucking self, alright?”

“Got it. Loud and clear.” But he’s still fucking giggling and Billy is currently contemplating murder. Eyes darting to the array of knives in close reach. Shakes the feeling. Killing the boss's son probably wouldn’t look good on evaluation.

Did he tell anyone? No. Did he tease billy relentlessly about it every fucking day. Of course he fucking did. Especially on days Steve walked into the restaurant for a to-go order. Nudging him in the arm with a little “Guess who’s here?” in a sing-songy voice.

And to think Billy thought having someone know and not crucify him would be a good thing. He'd rather he just hate crime him behind the restaurant instead of the constant, and I mean constant, ribbing.

Eventually moving on from teasing behind the wall of the kitchen to suggesting he go out and take the payment to actually pushing him out the swinging doors to do it. “Talk him up Hargrove. Put on the moves.”

There were no moves. But there was a conversation. A good one. A nice one. They just talked about themselves and caught up. Not really seeing much of each other once he was out of the hospital. Only having seen Steve in passing on days he’d bring max by for visiting hours. But they never actually talked much during that time. He’d come up to the room with her saying “Thought it’d be nice to see another familiar face.”

And it was.

Billy was not paying much attention to this conversation. Answering Steve's questions and asking his own, but he was definitely distracted by how close their hands were to each other, both rested on the counter, supporting themselves. If you asked Billy after the conversation what they talked about, he could only recall two things. One; he works at family video, not really substantial. And two; he said he looked good.

“You look good Billy.”

Yup, Billy was completely gone.

So maybe the constant teasing wasn’t completely terrible. Especially now that he’s given him such a stupid stupid stupid idea that he’s one hundred percent going to go through with because it’s about fucking time he wrote some fortunes of his own. He had several typed out and ready to be placed into a cookie whenever they received another call for an order for ‘Harrington.’ The first one was innocent enough. Pulled straight off the list of sample fortunes.

“You always bring others happiness.”

Just something simple. He just saw it on the list and it made him smile. Thought it would be nice to see Steve smile too.

The next few were similar to that one. Pulled straight off of the list but tailored specifically toward Steve.

“You are working hard.”

“Have a beautiful day.”

“You look pretty.”

But that last one was different. Because on the back of the last one he wrote in ballpoint pen.

- The cookie maker ♡

And that’s when it became a thing that they were both aware of. Now it was a romantic gesture and not just an act of kindness or a series of coincidental fortunes. Now steve was on the lookout for who made the fortunes at Li’s kitchen, but at the same time trying to keep the mystery alive so that the fortunes would keep coming.

Billy started writing out his own.

“I like your hair.”

“You have a terrific ass.”

“Somebody’s got a crush on you.”

Zach wrote that last one.

Then they got deeper.

“You make me happy when I don’t think that’s possible.”

“You make the pain go away.”

Steve never failed to blush at each and every fortune with the signature heart on the back.

But it was dragging on. And Steve was getting impatient. Started to ask around, eventually learning that robin had seen Elizabeth Li making them one time.

Elizabeth Li is sixteen. Absolutely not.

And now he feels bad for letting it drag on this long. Taking himself to the restaurant to let her down gently. When he walks through, Billy is standing behind the counter. Confused because he didn’t usually order on Wednesdays, and especially not this late in the day.

Was that a weird thing to know?

“Do you have an order to pick up?” Billy asks.

“No. Not today. I was actually hoping I could talk to Elizabeth, is she around?”

And Billy's heart just sinks to the floor. The slight smile that was on his face now completely gone and shattered to pieces.

“Yeah. I’ll go get her.” he says, with a heavy heart, disappointment clear in his voice.

He sends her out to the front and lingers in the back, ear pressed to the door trying to listen in like some creep.

“Look, elizabeth. I’m really flattered and I appreciate the fortune cookies, but you’re way too young for me. I’m sorry.”

Shit.

Is Billy supposed to be worried or relieved?

He can’t even see her face but he knows she’d be giving him her death stare right about now.

He can hear her say it through clenched teeth and he shouldn’t find it so funny but it is.

“Yeah. Okay, sorry about that. I’ll definitely stop doing that. Have a good day Steve.” And she just walks away from the counter and Billy barely jumps backwards in time to not get a door slammed in his face.

“You better fucking fix this Hargrove. I am not going to go down for this for you.”

Zach had just walked into the kitchen from the break room. Chef Li and the rest of the staff are just minding their own business.

“What did I miss?”

Elizabeth is all up in Billy’s personal space. Inches away from his chest looking up at him from her height of just five feet and three inches.

“Steve fucking Harrington thinks I’m his little secret admirer.”

Her face is red in anger but Zach’s is red from laughing so hard.

“Now that’s fucking funny.”

“If you don’t tell Steve, I will. I covered for you out of the kindness of my heart, but I’m not that kind.”

“Isn’t that the truth.”

“Shut up Zach!”

Zach was laughing. Billy however, was suddenly not. Head now bowed, sighing heavily.

“I can’t do that.” It was a quiet and sudden change of tone that altered the mood of the situation entirely. The only people who could hear were just the three of them because the sound couldn’t overpower the noises of chopping vegetables and the clanking of pots and pans and the sizzle of cooking meat.

“Why not?”

“Fuck you. You know why.”

“Well what was your plan Romeo?! Were you just never going to tell him?” she threw her hands in the air like he was being ridiculous. The only thing that was ridiculous was that he ever went through with it in the first place.

“I don’t know. Okay? I don’t fucking know.”

Zach came up from behind him and offered a reassuring hand to his shoulder. “Look dude, my little sister is a bitch but she’s right. You have to tell him. I’ll have your back when you do.”

“Tomorrow.”

“What?” Billy jerks his head back down to look at Liz.

“Tell him. Tomorrow.” Her arms were crossed and she clearly wasn’t taking a no for an answer.

“Fuck the both of you. My shift is over.” Billy pushed past her and out of the restaurant. Leaving his jacket behind and walking home through the cold weather. His converse getting wet from the slushy snow, soaking through to his socks making him even colder all over. He’s internally freaking out and his heart would be beating out of his chest if his nervous system wasn’t operating at a decreased rate due to potential hypothermia.

He can’t even think. Just kicking his feet against the wet pavement letting the breeze take him over. If he dies, he doesn’t have to tell him.

Headlights pass him by as he slowly walks the distance home, nobody caring about the guy who cheated death just months ago inching closer back to that point instead of further away. Nobody stops to offer him a ride or even check to see if he’s okay, and he’s not even sure if he even wants to make it home. It would be preferable to just fall asleep in one of the bushes outside than having to make his day even worse by introducing Neil into it. Sitting at a dinner table, making nice and pretending like everything that was going well for him won’t come to an end twenty four hours from now. All the joy of making those little fortune cookies and just imagining the look on Steve’s face every time. The look he knew for sure was one of happiness despite never seeing it because it wasn’t a coincidence Steve’s lunch orders became more and more frequent.

But in his peripheral a set of headlights did seem to slow. That was either a sign he was meeting his savior, or potentially his kidnapper. Honestly at this point they are the same thing.

“Billy?”

You have got to be kidding me.

“Hey Harrington.” His teeth are chattering and his voice is shaky as he says it. Is it the cold? Or are his nerves finally beginning to work at the worst time possible?

“What the hell are you doing out here?”

“Walking home.”

“You’ll die out here.”

“If only.” He says it under his breath but Steve still hears it. Letting the car come to a complete stop rather than the slow pacing he was doing before.

“Get in. I’ll take you home.”

Billy just waves him off. “I’ll be fine on my own.” And he continues walking at his slow pace.

“I wasn’t fucking asking. Get the hell in Hargrove. Before I drag you in here.”

Billy stops and sighs. Kicking more slush into the air. “Fine.”

He walks around to the passenger side and lowers himself into the seat. Groaning as his body aches from the motion. Steve doesn’t acknowledge it. Just puts the car back into drive and heads towards Cherry Lane. Silence in the car as Billy breathes into his hands trying to warm them up. He’s pale. Looks like he’s never seen the sun before. His face is flushed. Even in the state like this Steve carries the same sentiment from that first conversation at the restaurant.

“You look good, Billy.”

He doesn’t say that. But he’s thinking it.

They eventually pull up to the white house with the screened in porch, and Billy grows visibly tense in his seat. He’s not moving. Just darting his eyes from the clock in the car and back to the house with the lights on.

“Everything okay?” Steve asks. But Billy’s eyes continue to move back and forth as his breathing quickens slightly more as each second ticks by. Showing no sign that he heard the words that came out of Steve’s mouth. He reaches over the center console and grabs his hand. “Hey.”

Billy looks over like a deer in the headlights. Eyes ever so slightly glossy. Clearing his throat he tries to speak.

“Can you take me somewhere else?” He asks.

He doesn’t want to go home. Can’t begin to even think about seeing his Dad today. He just wants to crawl under his covers and go to sleep. Dream of a reality that isn’t his own. Not this fucked up shit show he’s stupidly gotten himself into.

“Where?”

“I don’t know. Anywhere but here?”

Neither of them realize Steve is still holding his hand. Not until he squeezes it tighter, recognizing the pain in Billy’s voice. Not for what it meant but just that it was there. He didn’t need to nor want to know why Billy didn’t want to go home. Just wanted to make it so he didn’t have to.

“Is my house okay?”

Billy hesitates, but nods.

And they turn the car around.

- : -

Billy wakes up the next morning on Steve’s couch to the sound of a microwave’s hum followed by a loud ‘ding’ that echoes off the walls. He just remembers walking through the door of Steve’s house and immediately laying down on the first soft surface he could find. Remembers Steve saying he’d be upstairs if he needed anything before quickly drifting off into sleep without a care in the world.

He went to sleep without a pillow and a blanket, and woke up with both.

Billy rubs away at his eyes while Steve enters the living room from the kitchen with two plates in his hands.

“I made you a hot pocket if you want one.” He sets the plate onto the coffee table before he takes a seat in the chair beside the couch. Billy sits himself up and takes the plate, cooling it off with a quick blow of his breath before biting into it. “You have work today?”

“Yeah, at eight. What time is it?”

“Only seven fifteen. I have to be in at eight thirty so I can drop you off if you want.”

“You don’t have to.”

“It’s seriously not a problem man, and no offense but you don’t look like you’d make the walk from here to there.”

Billy laughs.

“I thought you said I looked good.”

Shit. It’s weird that he remembers that.

But Steve blushes. “Well yeah, just not ‘two mile hike’ good. But you’ll get there.”

“Thanks.”

“Why are you working anyway? Shouldn’t you still be recovering?”

Billy frowns. “My Dad is making me.”

Oh. That’s why he doesn’t want to go home.

The situation is awkward now. Silent as they finish their breakfasts and drive off in the Beemer. Pulling up outside the restaurant fifteen minutes before his shift starts. Billy suddenly reminded of what he’s supposed to do today as soon as he looks at the sign out front.

“Uh, hey. Listen. Come by the restaurant for to-go. On me y’know, as a thank you.”

“You don’t have to-“

Billy cuts him off.

“Yes. I do.”

- : -

When Billy walks into the kitchen in the same clothes as yesterday nobody says anything. Nothing about his undone hair or his or his early arrival to work. Instead he’s met with apologies exiting the mouths of the two Li children as they corner him in the break room.

“We’re sorry about yesterday. It wasn’t fair for us to do that to you. Elizabeth said she won’t tell Steve.”

They were waiting for him to yell, or at the very least get his anger out some way.

But instead Billy smiled. Barely there with just the slight upturn at the corners of his mouth but it was there, so distinct from his natural grimace. “It’s fine.” He says.

Zachary and Elizabeth are entirely confused. Looking in between each other like ‘did you just see what I just saw?’

“What has you so chipper?”

His smile just grew slightly wider.

“Spent the night at Steve’s last night.”

The two’s eyes grew to the size of saucers.

“You what!?” They both said in unison.

“Jesus! Not like that. I just slept on his couch.”

Billy could see the cogs turning in each of their heads. Trying to figure everything out like it was some complicated math problem. “I think I’m going to tell him. Today.”

“Really?”

Billy nodded, threw on his skull cap, and left the dumbfounded siblings where they stood. He had a fortune to write, and cookies to bake.

He was so meticulous this time. Making sure they were perfectly round circles, folded exactly in half. Throwing nonsense fortunes into each one. Avoiding the one sitting by itself on the table beside him. Too afraid to throw it into a cookie, each time he tossed in another basic off the list fortune was just Billy trying to talk himself out of it.

But he inches closer and closer to reaching the point of no return. First by putting in Steve’s lunch order. Next by finally slipping the fortune into a cookie. Next by slipping the cookie into Steve’s bag, and finally at the strike of noon, handing the bag to Steve, insisting he pay for it while Billy continuously denies him. Telling him to go enjoy his meal and stop arguing with him.

When Steve walked out the door Billy thought he could stop holding his breath. But he couldn’t let it out. Thought the anticipation lied with handing the meal to Steve, now feeling his breath caught even more now that he had. It was the anticipation of not knowing. He had to know.

But Steve left with the cookie still intact.

So he had to wait.

- : -

Steve brought his lunch into Family Video. The same thing he always ordered. Feeling a warm sensation in his chest at the knowledge that Billy knew his order. Fried rice and soup dumplings. Robin was there, waiting to mooch off of his food since she never bothered to bring her own lunch, but would also refuse to let Steve buy her anything.

If he didn’t know any better he’d think she liked him.

But he did know better not even to entertain that idea. She was just the girl who liked to eat Steve’s food because that’s just what she did. She’s standing there with her grabby hands, ready to start digging into his rice. She peruses through the contents of the bag and pulls out the plastic containers and the one fortune cookie that he always got.

“Did you let her down easy?” Robin asks, waving the cookie in his face.

“Yes. She was weird about it. But I guess she took it well.”

“Well that’s good. Can I have this one then?”

“Sure. Go for it. I don’t like them all that much anyway. I just like them for the fortunes.”

“Well then let’s see what Steve Harrington’s fortune is today, shall we?”

Robin cracks it open and gently pulls the slip of paper out from inside. Popping the cookie into her mouth as she pulls it taut so she can read it.

Her eyes squint. She pulls it closer to her face, just inches away like she can’t see what she’s reading. Like she’s confused.

“What’s it say?”

“Umm.” She just shakes her head. Mouth still full with the fortune cookie as she passes it along to Steve.

He takes it from her hesitantly, and a look of confusion washes over his face as he reads the words.

“I’m not Elizabeth Li.”

“What?” He says it mostly to himself, because what the fuck?

He turns it over and is expecting to see the same little signature. The vague ‘the cookie maker’ with the tiny heart.

Well the heart is still there.

But it says something else.

- Billy ♡

“Holy shit.”

- : -

It’s a painstakingly long rest of his shift. Doing the same old boring jobs like cleaning up, manning the front counter, and bussing tables when he’d finished the daily batch of cookies. It usually felt like a long five hours, but today it was excruciating. He could feel Zach and Liz’s eyes on him the whole time. Like they were watching intently so they didn’t miss the moment where he inevitably exploded from all the anxiety in his chest.

Billy’s constantly playing out different scenarios in his head. Steve barging into the store and punching him in the face being the one that’s the most prevalent. Occasionally letting himself get slightly hopeful and imagining the opposite.

But there was a third scenario he considered. That Steve just wouldn’t come back at all. Let him down by not even bringing him up. Robbing him of the closure he needs. He’d rather Steve just punch him in the face. That was a kind of rejection he could handle. One that gave him a reason to let go. Not one that left him hanging on by a single thread.

His shift is quickly coming to an end and he’s debating on how desperate he is to wait and linger around the restaurant with his small shred of hope that he comes back. His neck hurts from jerking his head towards the door every time the bell chimed. Hoping to see the boy with the chestnut hair walk through only to be greeted by another local he refused to learn the name of.

He’s losing his goddamn mind and he needs a fucking cigarette.

His shift comes to an end and he clocks out. Escaping to the back of the restaurant behind the dumpsters, lighting up a Marlboro Red and sinking his weight against the brick siding of the building. Feeling himself shiver when the heat of the flame warms the tip of his nose. Breathing in the smoke trying to regain some sense of calm that completely left his body as soon as he handed the bag to Steve. Too many hours on this high alert feeling that he can’t even recall what relaxation feels like anymore. Just accepts the burning in his lungs in the cold outside weather with just the hum of low traffic and the sound dripping gutters as the closest thing he’s going to get to that for the time being.

Finishing his cigarette, he tosses the bud into a puddle. Dragging a hand over his face as he prepares to walk back into the crowded restaurant that would feel completely empty because it was lacking the one fucking person he wanted to see.

He could go see him.

No he couldn’t. The ball already was in Steve’s court.

He opens the door and Zach is standing right there like he was waiting for him.

“What the fuck dude?”

“No. Shut up. Someone is in the break room waiting for you.”

Billy doesn’t get the chance to register his words before he’s being grabbed by the collar of his shirt and dragged and pushed into the room, where Steve is sitting at the table.

Just looking at him. Studying him.

“Look, Steve –“

“Stop.” He cuts him off. Continues to stare before hesitantly reaching into his jacket pocket to pull out what looks to be a ziplock plastic bag. Opening it and dumping the contents of it out on the table all while Billy is left standing there unable to speak, couldn’t even if Steve would let him. The ability to get words out being entirely suppressed by the sight of about ten slips of paper spread out on the table in front of Steve. Steve just looking back down at them and not looking back at Billy. Lost in another trance. He starts moving them around on the table. Moving them away from each other so that none are touching each other and they are all completely exposed. Steve smiles. Gets up from the chair.

Walks over to where Billy stands with his back pressed against the door, holding tightly to the handle for a quick escape. Steve moves so slowly, like he’s forging his plan with each step until their chests are just inches away from each other. Steve’s looking down, away from Billy’s gaze. Taking Billy’s hand in his, causing him to shudder. “You know I rushed over as soon as I could. Thanks for the lunch Billy.” Billy’s just silent and completely still against the door. Steve’s hold on him is loose yet he feels entirely restrained. “I can’t believe it was you.”

“I’m sorry.” Billy practically chokes on the words, prompting Steve to finally turn his eyes up toward him. Seeing how his eyes have grown glossy and his face has turned a pinkish color.

“What for?”

“That it was me.”

Steve squeezes his hand tighter, brings another to Billy’s cheek gently and Billy feels like he’s being suffocated under the touch. Like instead the hand is wrapped around his throat and pushing against his airway. But he leans into it. Steve’s touch is so soft and he lets his eyes fall shut to burn the sensation into his memory.

“Don’t apologize for that.”

His eyes are still closed when Steve moves forward and kisses him. Shooting open as soon as lips make contact and he suddenly stiffens like a board. It’s quick and chaste and he doesn’t get the opportunity to kiss back before it’s over.

“You can’t… you don’t –“

“But I do.”

“This isn’t a joke, Steve.”

“I agree.”

Billy’s left standing there. Rubbing at his lips that were just touching Steve with the pad of his thumb.

“I don’t know what to do.”

Steve smirks, moves back into Billy’s space so his breath is hot against his mouth.

“You could kiss me, asshole.”

Billy doesn’t need to be asked twice.

[thatsbucknasty]

she used to be mine (v) waitress au

summary: Inspired by the broadway musical. Y/N Beck is a pie baking force to be reckoned with. She’s pregnant with her lazy ass husband, Quentin Beck’s baby. As everything around her turns upside down, Doctor James Buchanan Barnes charms his way into her life.

pairing: Y/N x Bucky

I will put some warnings in the tags cause I don’t want to spoil everybody but I feel like there are sensitive topics in this one, so go ahead and check the tags!

chapter 5: you will still be mine

You’d think that having an unplanned pregnancy, an unemployed lazy husband and an exhausting job that underpays would be just enough to realize you’re having a bad year. But now, on top of that, said unemployed lazy husband’s truck broke down and I just can’t afford to fix it right now, he’s asking for money cause he already took it to the shop without consulting with me, and it’s not like I can just give him my savings.

He was out all night yesterday, drinking I assume. I have to tell him I’m pregnant. And also, I have to walk to work and to my doctor’s appointment later today, because I can only afford one bus ride per day and usually it would be the one back home from work cause Quentin would drive me in the morning. Life’s just fine and dandy isn’t it?

I’ve seen those videos where women will make a big deal showing their spouse the little pregnancy test and record their reaction. It usually involves tears and hugs and all things pretty, and I can’t help but feel like I’m never gonna have that kind of life. The one with balloons and cake and glitter for the gender reveal party and the baby shower. And I’ve never even wanted those things, but I’m pretty sure Quentin’s reaction will be the farthest from tears and hugs and all things pretty.

-

“Morning, Y/N, you’re late again. It’s the third time this month”. Sam looks angry at me from the counter, at least he’s back to his grumpy self but I feel bad nonetheless.

“I am so sorry Sam, I swear I’m not doing it on purpose, it’s just that I had to walk and you know 4th street’s closed and-

“Hey, calm down girl. I understand. I know y’all think I’m rude and moody all the time but I just like teasing ya... if you ever need help I can give you a ride in the morning”. Great, now even Sam is pitying me.

“And I know what you’re thinking. ‘He’s pitying me’”, he rolls his eyes at me, “but I care about you girls despite all of our bickering. I’m just offering my help cause we’re pals, aren’t we?” He offers me a cup of coffee and I decline but sit down on the stool.

“Why aren’t you drinking coffee Y/F/N?” Oh shit.

“I uh, I-” Shit, shit, shit.

“Y/N?, tell me what’s going on?”

“Fuck, Sam, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. We are pals, we are! But I didn’t want Nick to know cause I thought he might fire me. I’m pregnant”. I finally sigh and hide my face in my hands, trying hard not to cry in front of him. “God, this is embarrassing”.

“Hey! There’s nothing to be ashamed of here. I understand, actually a lot of things make sense now. The girls know, don’t they?” I hum my answer, my face still in my palms.

“Have you told Quentin yet?” I shake my head and look down at the orange juice he puts in front of me instead of the usual coffee, huh, he can be nice when he really wants to.

“You’re in a real conundrum, aren’t you?”

“Yes I am. He hasn’t been working for the past three months. He didn’t come home last night and we fight almost every day. I don’t know when I’ll start showing but my uniform barely fits and my feet are swollen from walking here. It’s just a matter of time until he notices. I can barely afford my doctor’s appointments. Oh! And I might have a tiny crush on him”.

“Your doctor? Wasn’t he married?”

“How did you- nevermind. Well, he’s getting a divorce, but I am married so nothing’s gonna happen either way”.

“Jesus, I wish I could do something to help you. My offer on the ride still stands, okay?”

“Thank you, Sammy. You’re very kind but knowing my husband, he would never allow it. He’d rather I walk with my swollen feet everyday and I don’t wanna fight with him. I’m just so tired”.

“Y/N, I know this ain’t my place but, why are you still with him?”

“I honestly don’t know anymore. I keep making up reasons when Nat tells me to ‘leave his ass’ but I can’t think of any more good ones”.

-

The diner was very quiet today, most Tuesdays it is because Al’s Pancake World has a discount. Sam swore he’d keep the secret about my little crush. I just don’t want Nat to have more material for insisting I should leave Quentin right now. And now I’m walking over to the doctor’s office.

The air tonight is so crisp and I appreciate how summer is about to end. Fall has always been my favorite time of the year. I can’t wait for the diner to smell like pumpkin pie every day. Speaking of pie, I brought Bucky some leftovers.

“Good evening, Y/N. Oh gosh, you brought pie?” 

“I said I would, didn’t I?”

“I’m starting to think I should give you something back, you really didn’t have to”.

“Oh don’t worry about it, it’s just some leftover ‘Kick in the pants pie’, I know, the name’s a little too aggressive but I had a bad week, don’t judge”.

“No one’s judging here. But care to explain the name?”

“I just- I had a fight with my husband earlier, and whenever I wish I could do something that’s not very nice, I just make it into a pie, you know… to express my feelings in a non-violent way”.

“So you wish you could kick your husband’s crotch but you made a pie instead, got it”. It’s insane and we both laugh about it for a minute and he leans back into the exam table. This is nice, having a friend who I can openly talk about my issues with. Wait, are we friends?

“Do you and your husband fight a lot?”

“Um… why are you asking me this?”

“Oh, nothing, it’s just- stress is bad for the baby and, I don’t know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay”, I lean into the exam table next to him, close to him, “we do, we fight a lot. He drives me nuts, and I’m a pain in his ass. That’s just us I guess”.

“I get it. I was a pain in Dot’s ass too”, he scoffs out a cynical laugh and looks at me, “guess she couldn’t deal with that anymore”.

“Can I ask what happened?”

“You can, but I wouldn’t know how to answer. She just got up and left one day. Said she got an internship in New York and we weren’t working anymore, so- she didn’t even give me a real reason, nor a chance to work things out”.

“I’m sorry, Bucky”.

“It’s fine. We always wanted different things. I was raised in a small town and when I went to Chicago for college I was miserable. But I met Dot and I thought life in a big city wouldn’t be so hard if I had her by my side. But then she wanted to do even bigger”.

“Like New York?”

“Yeah. I’m not cut out for that. I love this little town of yours, always did”.

“Oh, so you’ve been here before?”

“Yeah, my grandparents lived here and I would come visit for the holidays. You actually remind me of my grandma”.

“Gee, thanks?” He throws his head back laughing.

“No, I mean because she used to bake like, ten different pies for Thanksgiving. She loved baking. And she was also a little-” He eyes me sheepishly and makes a face.

“A little what, huh?” I smack his arm and try not to laugh at his stupid, cute antics.

“Well, a little strong willed?”

“That’s a euphemism for stubborn”.

“Yeah, it is”. He has the audacity to smirk at me and I can’t help but smile because he says it in a way that feels like a compliment.

Bucky finishes the examination and tells me he’d like to see me again in three weeks. He opens the door for me and we do a little dance of who gets out first. We laugh at each other’s clumsiness and I feel like a teenager. He smells nice, like always. I say goodbye and I find myself hoping the next three weeks go by quickly. I glance at my watch and notice the time. Fuck, has it really been two hours? My appointments usually last thirty minutes tops.

-

“Hi, Y/N”. Fuck, he’s here already?

“Jesus, Quentin, you startled me. What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to see the game at Phil’s tonight”.

“Yeah? And I thought you were supposed to come home early, you said no extra shifts on Mondays”.

“I- I was-”

“Now don’t lie to me, cause I found your money! That’s right, I did! Why were you keeping money in the closet, huh? I took the money, paid Carl to fix the damn truck and drove over to Nick’s and you weren’t there. That angry redhead chick said you left early, so where, the fuck, were you?” He grabs an empty bottle of beer and throws it against the wall.

“Quentin. Stop it, you’re scaring me! Calm down!”.

“I won’t calm down until you tell me where you were!” He grabs another bottle and raises it above his head, aiming straight at me, I’m frightened and I don’t know what else to do but-

“I’m pregnant!”

Silence. Complete and utter silence. He lowers his arm along with the crystal bottle he’s holding. Tears cascade down my face silently and I can’t help them. I hate crying in front of Quentin but he truly scared me. He’s never been violent towards me. Sure he yells a lot but he never gets like this, and I’m sure he would’ve thrown that bottle at me if I hadn’t told the truth.

“Please say something”.

“You can’t be pregnant, Y/N, and if you are it isn’t mine”. He whispers and I don’t know if I heard him right. I’m at a loss for words for a few seconds.

“Why would you say such a thing? It is yours!”

“No it isn’t! I don’t want it!” He’s yelling again and his words break my heart. If I had the smallest belief that he actually cared for me, it’s gone.

“Quentin? Do you remember that night I went to the Stark’s party with you and we both got drunk? You were wearing your fancy blue shirt with the grey tie, and I had that red dress that you like. This baby is yours. And if you-”

“No, it isn’t! I said it isn’t, Y/N. I- I can’t do this with you, I can’t and I won’t!

“What are you talking about?!”

“You remember Alice? You met her at that party”.

“Right, mini skirt girl, I remember. What about her?”

“She and I-” He looks down at his feet and then back into my eyes and I see it.

“No”. My blood begins to boil. This bastard!

I feel a huge knot in my throat and I can’t breathe. All this time I’ve been grasping for something, anything. Clinging for this marriage to work. Feeling guilty about baking a stupid pie for my doctor, when he’s been sleeping with some girl who’s probably ten years younger than him?!

“No!” I grab the nearest object and throw it at him. And of course it’s a fucking pillow- “Get out! Out, I said! And don’t ever come back!” He’s backing down, opening the door and I yell at the top of my lungs, I don’t care if the neighbors hear me- 

“That money you stole from me was for the doctor’s appointments and the hospital bills, I saved up all of that for this baby, your baby, alone!  And you’re gonna pay me back! I kept a roof over your fucking head, paid for your fucking beers and you cheated on me? If you ever come near me or this baby I will kill you, you hear me?”

I grab his keys and put them on my apron’s pocket.

“And I’m keeping the stupid truck!”

He leaves, on foot, and just like that I’m a single mother. 

“AH!”

What is this? The most terrifying pain strucks my pelvis and I feel a discharge in my underwear. No, no. Baby don’t do this. We are gonna be fine, you and I. I promise. Please. Don’t.

-

chapter 6: a soft place to land

a/n: pls reblog if you liked it c: and don’t kill me, I promise fluff is coming!

[spidcr-man]

set it up: one ↬ t.h

summary: y/n and tom are two overworked and underpaid assistants, aspiring to be something more. what happens when the two meet and come up with a plan to get their bosses off their backs by setting them up with each other?    pairing: Tom Holland x Female!Reader notes: chapter one is finally here! i hope i didn’t completely fuck this up because it’s a little short yikes. it’s also a little slow to get going, but i feel like i’ll have a ton more inspiration with the next chapter. anyways, i had a really fun time writing this, so i hope you guys enjoy it!  word count: 2657 warnings: cursing date published: 062318

Shuffling out of bed, your bare feet hit the cold tile that covered the entire floor of your shoebox apartment. The only form of light was the clock to your right, reading 5:30 am in bright red block letters.  Letting out a small groan, you and trudged two steps into your kitchen, lazily removing various packets from your cabinets to make your morning coffee. Ever since your boss’s divorce last summer, she made all her employees start coming in an hour earlier. It was some bullshit about wanting to have team meetings before work, but they usually ended up in her ranting about her own downs in life.

Leaving your coffee maker to its job, you went back into your room to find a suitable outfit. Just as you were about to reach down for a pair of leggings a sudden ‘POP’ comes from the kitchen, followed by the shrill sound of the smoke alarm. If you weren't awake before, you sure were now. Practically tripping over your leggings, you ran into the kitchen to see that your coffee maker had decided to completely give up―much like you wanted to. A light trail of smoke waved above the machine while coffee trickled from beneath it. Carefully unplugging the cord from the wall, you let out an audible sigh of pure exhaustion.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you huffed, standing in front of the mess, unable to properly register the situation due to a lack of sleep. Regaining your composure, you slid an Ikea brand chair out from under its matching table and climbed on top of it, tasked to stop the agonizing noise. After prying open the smoke detector cover, you forced the battery out and chucked it onto the coffee stained counter. Still standing on the chair, you averted your eyes towards the flashing microwave clock.

“Shit!” you exclaimed, hopping down from the chair and rushing into your bedroom to finish getting dressed, not bothering to put the cover back on the smoke detector or clean up the coffee coated counter. You had to be at the office by 6:30 am with a large half-caff, nonfat, soy latte, no foam on your boss’s pristine desk, and it was approximately 6:10. The walk to the coffee shop took at least 5 minutes and then another 10  or so minutes to get to the office. These measurements didn't even take into account how the busy the coffee shop would be. If you didn’t leave now you’d surely be late, which was never favorable in the eyes of someone you wanted a promotion from.

Frantically throwing your hair up into a loose ponytail and sliding on a thinner jacket, you stuffed your phone into your back pocket and ran out the door of your small apartment. The walk to the coffee shop was anything but peaceful. Normally, you had an extra five minutes or so to collect yourself before the rough day ahead, but that was not the case this morning. The speed of your walking only increased with every step you took along the surprisingly busy sidewalk. Finally arriving at the coffee shop, you kindly placed your order, requesting they put it on rush so it would come faster―it didn't. Your leg bounced up and down as your anxiously awaited your name to be called, praying that a miracle takes place. A wave of relief washed over you at the sound of your name signaling for you to come collect your coffee. Once acquiring the warm drink, you quickly turned on your heels to leave but instead, fell into someone. Not even knowing how to react, you simply looked down at the hot coffee that was once securely in your hand but was now covering your sweater and the once clean floor.

Your eyes immediately met a pair of soft, tired brown ones, “I―I 'm so sorry, “ the man spoke, trying his best to read your neutral expression. Were you going to scream? Cry? Worse yet, scream at him? No. None of that. You simply glanced down, noticing two perfectly untouched coffees wrapped in heat protectors in his hands. At this point, you were going to be late anyway, but whether you showed up with or without coffee was the question. Then without even thinking you grabbed the cup from his left hand and darted out of the door. The sound of a distant yell, fading as you made your way across the street.

Walking down the paved sidewalk, you buried your free hand into your pocket, the brisk air feeling like repeated smacks in the face with each step. Though the coffee you stole from the man just moments before warmed your hand, it offered no aid in warming up the rest of your body. Just a few more blocks and the distant outline of your office building came into view. As expected, you were late. It was only by a few minutes, but still not something your boss would easily brush over. Your feet carried you all the way to the glass building before stopping at its front, allowing you to take in your disaster of a morning. As soon as you entered the bustling building, you reached for your phone in your back pocket and sent your co-worker, Charlie an incoherent message.

Y/N: elevator with new sweater.

Once the text was sent, you swiftly made your way to the elevators, pressing the floor number in which you needed to go. The soft noise of the elevator in progress filled your ears as you patiently awaited your destination. Your thoughts only growing louder and louder with every stop that wasn’t yours. The number of your floor flashed in orange above the metal sliding door causing you to shuffle your way to the front in order to exit.

“You’re late, Y/N,” Charlie piped out, already waiting for you upon your entrance.

“Don’t remind me,” you replied as she handed you a grandma-esque sweater. 

One good thing about working for a fashion company was that there were plenty of spare clothes in the dressing department, however, the inexpensive ones tended to lack the certain modernity that many these days strived for. You gave her a look that read, are you joking? only to receive a sympathetic one in return.

Glancing down the hall to your boss’s glass office windows, you could see the annoyed expression that always seemed to be plastered onto her face. She was doing her least favorite thing, paperwork. Tucking the clean sweater under your arm, you made your way past the sea of cubicles to deliver her the coffee.

Politely knocking on her door, she immediately yelled for you to come in.

“Good morning, Ms. Willem,” you greeted with a bright, fake smile that had replaced a frown from moments ago.

Her expression was anything but pleased. Ms. Willem had never been the most friendly or even kind woman but she definitely had a knack for what she did. It was one of the main reasons why you applied to be her assistant in the first place. Who better to take notes from than one of the most successful businesswomen in the workforce?

She then slowly took her reading glasses off, tossing them onto her desk as you sheepishly set the coffee in front of her. You held your breath as she picked up the biodegradable cup, bringing it to her crimson painted lips to take a sip. Her nose scrunched in disgust and she immediately threw the cup into the garbage beside her.

“Y/N, are you aware that you just handed me a pure black coffee?” she questioned, looking at you with pure distaste. 

Biting the inside of your cheek, you stood still, not wanting to say the wrong words in the already sticky situation.

“I know I didn’t give you the job of assistant for you to disappoint. Keep it up and you just might find yourself...well, unemployed, “ she harshly spoke, pushing herself up from her chair.

 “Make sure you get those fabric pieces for Mr. Marsden. His assistant should be coming to pick them up,” she ordered before making her way towards the door. Then before leaving, she turned to you once more, “Clean up before the team meeting. You look like a mess.“

Speechless, you only turned, locking eyes with Charlie through the large glass windows who was standing up in her cubicle, offering you another sympathetic glance. You opened the heavy glass door and walked into the employee bathroom, picking a random stall to change in. The sweater was quite large and had one of the most confusing patterns you had ever seen in your life. You looked like a complete mess. After changing, you headed towards boardroom 3 knowing the rest of the department would be just starting their morning meeting. You kept your head down in embarrassment as you opened the door, scurrying to find a spot in the back so you would go unnoticed. Today’s meeting was short and surprisingly not all about Ms. Willem’s problems, which came as a shock to all.

From the boardroom you went to straight to your desk, wanting to get some work done before your boss requested your presence. Pushing up the sweater’s itchy sleeves over your elbows, you logged onto your computer to read over your boss’s schedule. From there, you’d be in charge of creating your own schedule, which primarily consisted of doing simple errands your boss wouldn't have time to do. You schedule her meetings, her breaks, and everything in between. You sometimes even have to schedule her personal time with her own family. It mainly consisted of whether or not she’d have time to attend her son’s extracurricular activities—she never did.

Today’s schedule was manageable. There were only a few things you needed to get done before having to pick up lunch at 12:30. The first task on your list to complete was replying to the hundreds of emails that were redirected to you. The emails you received consisted of many topics. They were mostly sponsorships, potential clients, business offers and sometimes even job applications. It was by far the most time consuming and boring task of each day.

Without realizing, a couple of hours had passed and you were still replying to emails and elite invitations. By the time you finished, it was only 8:50am and you already wanted to go home. As you were logging off your email your mind wandered, thinking about what you’d later do for dinner. Your thoughts were quickly interrupted by the loud sound of your desk phone ringing. Snapping out of your daze, you picked it up, expecting it to be a client or another assistant confirming meeting dates.

“Hello? Ms. Willem’s assistant speaking,” you answered, waiting to hear from the other side.

The line remained silent for a moment while a pair of voices spoke in the background. You waited a little longer before one of the voices came on, “Ah yes, we have a Mr. Holland here to see you. . . he said something about picking up fabric samples for his boss?”

As soon as you heard the words come from the other line your heart stopped. You had completely forgotten to pick up the swatches Ms. Willem had reminded you about earlier in the morning. Cursing under your breath, you lifted up from your chair still on the line with the front desk.

“Yes! I will come down to get him,” you rushed, throwing the phone back on its platform and heading towards the elevators. Thank God fabric was only two floors down.

Arriving on the fabric floor felt like a weight was being lifted from your shoulders. You walked to their front desk and was instantly met by someone in the department. You offered him a polite smile before telling him why you were there.

“Ms. Willem requested some samples. . .” you trailed, hoping he’d catch on to what you needed. 

A puzzling look crossed his face as he bent down to open a drawer and search for the order. Shaking his head, he looked back up to you.

“I don’t have the order made, but if you give me an hour or so to collect and cut the fabrics, It will be done.”

Great.

“Oh, no uhm, I need them now,” you replied, in the kindest way you could, not wanting to sound rude.

He shook his head and let out a sarcastic laugh, “One hour,” he stated, turning to collect the materials he needed. 

With a timid nod and barely audible ‘thanks’, you made your way back down the hallway and to the elevators that would take you to the main floor.

Just as you rounded the corner from the elevators, you noticed a man patiently sitting in one of the lobby’s artistic yet obscure chairs. He was leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees, scrolling through his cell phone. You made eye contact with the woman at the front desk as she pointed at the same man, confirming that it was him who needed to pick up the samples. Straightening your posture, you cautiously walked over to him. The sound of your shoes softly hitting the tile floor made him glance up from his phone and directly at you. You almost stopped in your tracks as your eyes met a pair of unforgettable soft brown ones—the same soft brown eyes you met this morning. Jesus fucking Christ. Of all people it had to be the person you had stolen a coffee from. Instantly recognizing you, his neutral expression contorted into a more stern one. He got to his feet and looked you dead in the eyes, silently taking note that your sweater was different.

“You owe me a coffee— “ he accused before you interjected.

“And you owe me a sweater,” you barked back.

In all honesty, the man owed you nothing. What had happened this morning was a complete accident, but you wouldn't dare let him know that—not if he was going to act this way.

“Looks like we’re even,”  he stated, his accent smooth, almost calming when he spoke. He ran his fingers through his curly brown hair, shaking his head unbelievingly.

“We’re not even, you almost cost me my job!” you whisper yelled, not wanting to make a scene in the busy lobby.

The man scoffed, “And you almost cost me my sanity! Do you know how important coffee is to me?” he exaggerated, matching your whispered pitch.

“Who orders plain black coffee anyway?” you retorted, throwing your hands up in exasperation.

Were you really arguing with a complete stranger? It seemed to be almost as unbelievable as your entire morning so far.

“My boss,” he replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

With that, you crossed your arms over your chest, “The samples aren't done yet so if you could come back later that would be great.”

He mimicked your new stance and shrugged, “I’m not leaving without those samples—trust me, love, I’ve got time.” 

The way he said ‘love’ made your stomach do backflips in the worst kind of way. There was absolutely no doubt that the man was attractive. It was his personality that seemed to be the exact opposite. 

“Then I guess you’re stuck with me for the next sixty minutes, and I have errands to run,” you retorted, hoping he’d just give up and come back when the samples were ready.

There was no sign of resistance in his expression, “Fine, I guess I am.” 

“I’m Tom by the way,” he introduced, not even offering you a proper hand to shake.

What a gentleman.

“Y/N,” you bitterly spoke, biting the inside of your cheek out of habit and partial nervousness.

You then gestured for him to follow you as you began to make your way back towards the elevators. 

This was going to be one long hour.

tags: @softboyhollands

(if you wish to be tagged in this series or would like to request something, please feel free to message me here!)