#exult writes petrichor's crypt

[chaosdetector]

First Steps of Many

(Redacted Audio) Asher x Black Reader Imagine ~ 1.75k words

!!Disclaimers!!: This is not beta read, there is angst, some foul language, occasional violent imagery, brief & light hints of sexual attraction btwn 2 adults, and bc it hasn’t been peer-reviewed (also bc I couldn’t decide if I wanted to write it like a [Name] fic, or use the listener’s nickname throughout), this fic could expose you to unhealthy amounts of CRINGE!!!

If any of this isn’t your cup of tea, feel free to scroll away and find something that does (I won’t take it personally ;D)

If none of that turns you away, then here’s a seat and a snack! I hope you enjoy the potential pt. 1 of this series! <333

This is a narration of the beginning of the end. Baabe would hold down the fort as per usual, taking orders from five people before getting to her favorite customer. They would both like to talk more about daily troubles, Asher sucking his teeth to keep his angst about his bitter family in a vacuum, and Baabe pivoting themselves from anything too personal by stringing out their consonants on a stuttered inhale.

The welcoming bell of the family owned joint interrupts itself to ring thrice for a happy horde of hungry habeshas, and Asher quickly two-steps from the counter and to his table. Baabe welcomes them all warmly, but raises a couple eyebrows with their hastened pace in servicing them all. Asher sees Baabes’ struggle to serve and record all of their orders as something he indirectly caused, flinching when he sees you nearly drop someone’s chai and three plates of food.

He walks up to you when you make it behind the counter, with about eight tickets still on the line, and four more plates to bring to their tables, he told you how he thought it would be best for him to come back later, and apologized for rushing you with his promise of staying to sit down and talk in the way he knows you’ve wanted to.

You stare at him with your eyes squinted, as if stressing your eyes would help you hear him better. You get the bright idea to glance down at his lips just as he utters the fact of him leaving, then practically lunge over the counter to clap his hands between your own. Loud crashing and clattering of tea and coffee sets against plates and cutlery quieted the entire kitchen, and ignited another kind of clamoring and clattering.

“I can handle this. I know it looks like a lot, but I deal with worse at my day job.”

The shouting from the kitchen approaches and intensifies after coming into contact with someone else’s spilled masterpiece.  Baabe looks back for a moment, then flicks their face, beaten soft with yearning (and the incoming blow to her paycheck for one and a half tea sets), towards Asher. His blonde hair brushing against your face as you lean in close to his ear. Your minty breath closes the gap between you both as you say–

—“Wait for me. “Please.” He turns his head and nods, something that could’ve read as him nuzzling into your neck—something he’s stayed awake thinking about doing since he met you.

Something about your intoxicating scent, your hickory toned skin—something about all of you never fails to make him swoon. What happens next is almost automatic; you see in the midst of his adoration of you he reclaims his clarity, next he makes the decision he wanted to from the start (sit and wait for you to sit with him over a delicious meal that someone else will bring out for the both of you), then he wrestles with the characatures of his pack members his mind made to taunt him, wins against them all because, “Fuck ‘em. What are they going to do about it? Bitch and moan? I can take that. Fight me? They can fuck themselves over and try.”

The idea of David and Milo pop up in his mind. He looks up to see two teas he hadn’t ordered sat in front of him, and your apron slung across the chair parallel to him.

“I’d get my ass handed to me every day if it meant being here.”

“Well,” You chuckle.  “…let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, yes?”

His eyebrows shoot up, breaking his morbid composure.  He lets out a laugh, awkward in it’s intensity and tone.

“Well, anything for the world’s best siga fir fir.” He looks to your eyes, then glances down to the tea you generously paid for. He thanks you for his drink and for starting the meal in the same nod he dips down to drink his tea in.

“And of course, I couldn’t miss out on the best waiter in the world.” You snort mid sip, coughing down the remainder of your hot tea to make room for your laughter. You had to settle yourself down from your laughing fit.

Why were you laughing anyways? He didn’t even say anything funny? Maybe it was his face when he said it? The way he’d scrunch his nose before being cheeky was always so endearing, or maybe it was the way this mountain of a man was so gently clasping onto his cup?

“[Asher says something]” That’s it! It was his eyes! It had to be! The way his smile would crease his gaze into crescent moons, and the happy shape of his face was only exaggerated by his thick short boxed beard…and maybe it had a little to do with his choice of dress. Bomber jackets are understandable, but a leopard fur print interior and trim?

Baabe hadn’t noticed the abhorrent pattern until now, but maybe it was because Asher was wearing it? He somehow pulled off even the most criminal looks, so they wouldn’t be surprised.

Baabe stared for a second longer. Had his arms always been that big?

“Do you like my shirt?” “Nah, just your arms.”

Baabes’ eyes flew open, making them appear only a fraction as erratic as they felt. A wave of heat swallowed their neck and face.

‘OH MY GOD WHY DID I SAY THAT?’

“Oh my GOD, I can’t believe you just said that!” Asher guffawed, then laughed from deep down in his gut. Baabe was about to shrink into themselves for good until—.

“You know, it takes a lot of work to look this good!” Asher begins to put on a show. Flexing his arms in poses you could only remember that one hunky guy from the SpongeBob Movie doing. He cracks another laugh out of you. “I’m glad these big guns impress you!”

You take a moment to weigh the risk of what you’re about to say.

“You always impress me Asher.”

Asher froze, something he could’ve concealed better if it weren’t for your sweetened tone. Part of that moment he spent frozen was dedicated to scanning you up and down for any hints of sarcasm or humor, the next was spent reeling himself away from your genuine look of adoration. Because, dear GODS, if he looks at you any longer than how much he already has, he’s bound to do something stupid–and not “poor-man’s-imitation-of-Arnold-Hasslehoff” stupid, he’s talkin’ “Pick-you-up-in-his-arms-and-run-away-with-you-tonight” kind of stupid.

“Ehem, so uh, what did you want to tell me? Or, uh, what did you want to talk about?”

Baaabe rubs their ring finger, gently wringing just above where the knuckle connects to the start of their finger. “I actually wanted to talk about us. Asher, you and I have known each other for a while, and I really like you, but not enough to keep things between us how they are now.”

Asher’s hands went cold. He felt his grip on his teacup tighten.

“I like you too much, Asher. Every moment we spend together is more precious to me than the last, and–I–I’d just like, so, so much, to spend more time with you.” Baaabe looked up from their hands, their nervous glare softening the moment they met Asher’s own stunned expression.

“Do you feel the same?”

A beat passed between the two.

Then another.

A jittery laugh comes from Baabe.

“I may have sprung this on you, it’s alright if–.” “I’D LOVE TO!” “I mean, I agree! I’d love to go out with you [Name].”

Baabe blinks. “Really?” They release a sigh, the kind that is so heavy with emotion you’d have to manually push the last half of it out your chest and up your throat. Asher releases a heavy sigh of his own, then focuses all of his erratic heart to say–.

“Yeah! Yeah, really.”

They giggle in stupid glee for a long while, then Baabe (the glutton for punishment they are) springs another question that gets their heart racing.

“So, when are you free? I know you’re always busy with your security business so…”

“Yeah, no, don’t even worry about that! The guys can handle a couple jobs without me. And if they can’t–” Asher blew a raspberry. “–they’ll figure it out!“  The lovers let out a couple more laughs, riding on highs that, honest to God, they don’t know why are wracking through them this heavily.

The entire restaurant seemed to pause, and in that silence, the energy between them began to burn. A beautiful, private moment between both of them and the thirty other people in the restaurant.

You glazed over the audience with a scornful glare, briefly enough to catch nearly everyone’s eyes before they could be sneakily removed to an uninteresting wall, or an unnaturally compelling wood tile.

Asher coughed, which wound up drawing your mind to more important things.

“Are you free the Friday after next?” He asked, his hushed voice pointed enough for you to make the connections between the consonants and his intended message. “Yeah, yeah I can be free then.”