#verse -> coffeeshop;closed;storyuntrue

[respondedinkind]

The very same way their playful banter and blatant flirting isn't lost on Khan, the sudden change in mood is recognized easily; Even though Tony is still keeping a rather lighthearted atmosphere around himself, his spoken words still sound... serious, all things considered, beginning to steer them into territory that goes further than what they've been doing so far. It's not unwanted, not uncomfortable in any way, it simply surprises Khan a bit, positively so.

Granted, he's suspected his interesting guest to put all this effort into what he's doing for a little more than just a bit of tossing beneath linen sheets in return - as he's thought about before - but to see and listen to the other maneuvering them over into the topic as a whole, talking about a possible significant other that could be connected to Khan... it's almost endearing, in a way, and Khan feels something spark behind the firm of his sternum, as if the sudden buzz of butterfly wings increases there for just a fraction of a second.

...Fuck, he's got it bad already. He barely knows Tony, and yet he's sitting here, watching him dissect a chicken, prepare a whole meal for him, while the brunette inquires about the cute barista's personal life - just so he isn't accidentally overstepping any boundaries and causing more bad than good, in the end.

He wants Khan to be single, and he wants to be sure it's the case. Which means that the older one himself must be without a partner, all things considered; Khan simply does not believe that a man asking about such things would consider to cheat on his own spouse in return.

---That dark doe-like gaze tells as much, almost vulnerable in nature, open and honest.

"You're a lucky one.", is what Khan decides to say after a little while, accompanied by his smirk softening somewhat, but remaining cheeky at the edges. "---I'm all by myself, in each and every way. You decided to... bark up the right tree, so to speak."

And yes, as the other has rightfully recognized himself, Khan very much is into him. If he weren't, this situation would be over already, with Tony been kicked out of this apartment before even managing to get inside. But, well, he's here, and bright blue eyes watch everything he does with a very much profound curiosity hidden within them, accompanied by full lips nursing the edge of his cup, the other arm curled on top of the kitchen island's smooth countertop.

Khan is holding on, somehow, managing to not let it show just how nervous (and excited) he actually is - and how much the sudden change of their banter affects him, the hint at that peculiar, enticing man possibly considering to... turn this whole thing they're having into something serious.

It has been a while. A long while, actually.

"I assume you are as well?", is what he asks in return then, trying to remain nonchalant as he takes another sip of his drink, gaze glued on Tony as he does. "You're been putting a lot of effort into trying to get closer to me, after all..."

“You’re   quite   right   about   that,   we   all   make   dumb   decisions   sometimes.   Doesn’t   mean   those   decisions   don’t   pay   off   in   the   end.   Take   me,   for   example,   and   coming   to   your   place   uninvited.”   Contrary   to   popular   belief,   Tony   was   very   self   aware   of   his   own   shortcomings.   He   was   impulsive   and   oftentimes   inconsiderate.   He   also   had   a   tendency   to   often   misread   situations   to   his   own   advantage.   Which   meant   that   he   had   to   get   some   things   clear,   lift   the   burden   of   doubt   off   his   own   shoulders,   and   make   his   intentions   just   a   touch   clearer.   

Chewing   on   his   bottom   lip,   his   attention   mostly   on   the   work   he’s   doing   —   he’d   rather   avoid   cutting   his   own   finger   off   after   all   —   Tony   gives   a   shrug,   lets   his   words   linger   in   the   air   for   a   second   or   two   before   he   adds   to   them.   “I   definitely   took   a   gamble   coming   here.   I   knew   your   name   and   your   occupation,   and   Alice   didn’t   give   me   much   else.   Only   that   you   seemed   to   be   into   me.”   That’s   how   he   has   operated   all   of   his   life,   and   for   the   most   of   it,   taking   a   chance   and   seeing   where   it   takes   him   has   paid   off   rather   nicely.   He’s   hoping   this   time,   life   doesn’t   screw   him   over.   “For   all   I   knew,   you   could   have   been   otherwise   engaged   with   someone   else,   delicately   put,   when   I   came   over.   And   just   so   I’m   a   hundred   percent   certain   —   you   weren’t,   were   you?”   

As   soon   as   he   gets   that   cleared,   he   can   start   laying   the   flirtations   real   thick   —   nothing   too   crude,   not   until   Khan   gets   better,   but   Tony   can   take   it   up   a   notch   still.   “I   kinda   really   need   to   know   that   I’m   not   barking   up   a   tree   that’s   otherwise   claimed.”   At   this,   he   finally   looks   up,   fixing   his   gaze   on   Khan,   trying   to   read   a   reply   from   his   facial   expressions   before   even   a   verbal   one   could   be   given,   dark   eyes   full   of   tentative   hope,   vulnerability   shown   where   he   otherwise   attempted   to   mask   it.   If   he   wanted   to   have   something   serious   with   Khan,   showing   just   the   outer   shell   of   himself   wouldn’t   be   enough.   And   he   wanted   to   have   more,   pretty   badly,   actually.  

[respondedinkind]

This is very much a playful back and forth between them, a bit of teasing banter to check out the waters, Khan knows; He's not oblivious to all the flirting, the way Tony acts and behaves in certain ways he surely wouldn't show off as much if being alone - or surrounded by people he wasn't feeling attracted to, at least - and Khan basks within it, enjoying this moment of lighthearted poking and prodding, accompanied by daring looks and cheeky smirks.

It's... been a while, really, since he's last been part of a similar situation unfolding. Truth to be told, this has never happened before - no one has ever aggressively flirted with him and found out his address once obtaining the information that Khan is suffering from a cold, just to then show up with a whole arrangement of food and medicine. To Khan it means that his unusual guest's interest must be deeply serious; If he were to see the cute barista (fuck, will Khan ever stop thinking about Tony calling him that?) as just another fling, he wouldn't be where he is right now, right?... Or, if he is that kind of man who puts all of this effort in, only to get a single fuck out of it later... well: Impressive, really. A+ for said effort, and the fuck is well-deserved.

But no, something tells Khan that he's on the right track regarding the brunette's reasons for being around. Even though they don't really know each other, Tony has decided to take matters into his own hands and, well - he knows what he wants, after all, and Khan is on the receiving end.

The thought causes him to swallow briefly, the warmth to the tips of his ears increasing; He hums out a low noise, his bright gaze flicking down to those hands handling the chicken, cutting it up, while the smirk on Khan's lips widens briefly, accompanied by another, amused exhale of air.

"---Never said that I'm incapable of making decisions that aren't of smart nature.", is the answer he gives, nonchalant; A few seconds pass, and Khan reaches for that cup once more with the warmed up medicine inside, taking another sip. Blue irises continue to take in the sight of that animal being processed, lips nursing the edge of the porcelain as he does, and only after another short while passes, Khan looks back up.

"Don't we all do some... questionable things sometimes? Make decisions that, perhaps, aren't as clever in hindsight, and yet we still allowed other parts of ourselves to lead rather than the brain?"

By now, Khan's smirk is definitely reaching his eyes and he tilts his head a little, almost as if he's offering a silent dare in return here, complete with a hint of a cocked brow and another sip of that unknown beverage.

Tony made some decisions himself, after all - and whether those have been smart might be up to debate. Yet Khan is not complaining about his customer's sudden appearance, and neither is Tony himself, right?

"Lucky me indeed, in quite a few ways."

Okay,   yes.   So   Tony   was   not   deluding   himself,   and   the   other   man   was   clearly   reciprocating   his   attraction.   Perfect;   it   means   that   the   chance   of   a   super   hot   model   walking   out   of   the   bedroom   was   getting   slimmer   by   the   minute.   Not   completely   gone,   however   —   there   is   still   too   much   that   Tony   didn’t   know   about   Khan.   

Therefore,   there   was   no   need   to   rush   and   rule   out   the   possibility   of   him   being   a   total   Casanova.   Apparently,   and   by   his   own   claim,   the   man   was   the   opposite   of   that,   and   something   within   Tony   wanted   to   trust   him   blindly.   The   snarky   part   of   his   brain   in   the   moment   had   helpfully   suggested   that   it   was   a   character   flaw   of   this.   He   nearly   snorts   to   himself,   but   reigns   it   in   at   the   last   second.   He   most   definitely   was   too   trusting   for   his   own   good,   and   his   history   had   shown   it   repeatedly.   

“Well,   if   we   were   in   a   relationship,   I’d   say   that’s   an   incredibly   romantic   gesture,   but   seeing   as   how   we’re   not. . .”   Tony   gives   a   shrug,   bites   his   lip   and   leans   away.   “It’d   say   it’s   more   of   a   daring   move   rather   than   a   smart   one.”   It’s   a   challenging   statement,   a   bit   risky,   but   still   playful   in   its   nature.   Yet   still,   the   engineer   was   certain   that   Khan   didn’t   mind   a   light   banter   or   a   silly   battle   of   wits.   That’s   what   Tony   was   bringing   to   the   table,   at   the   end   of   the   day,   and   if   Khan   couldn’t   dish   it   out,   well,   they   might   not   be   suitable   for   one   another   after   all.   

“Lucky   for   you,   however,   I   got   excellent   reviews   from   my   friends   about   my   cooking,   and   this   soup   in   particular.   So   your   faith   in   me   won’t   be   challenged   today   and   you’ll   still   remain   a   pretty   smart   guy.”   Point   made   and   his   words   softened,   Tony   returns   to   his   task   at   cutting   up   the   chicken,   glancing   up   at   Khan   every   now   and   again.   

[respondedinkind]

It feels satisfying, really, but also equally as exciting to watch Tony react to his spoken words; Those dark lashes look pretty against his tanned skin, in combination with that subtle blush, and Khan cannot stop the corners of his mouth to curl up ever so slightly - even while he still recovers from that previous sneeze-attack, clearing his throat after, shifting a bit on his seat before he folds his lower arms on top of the kitchen island in front of him.

---Just so that he can get a bit more comfortable as his bright blue eyes keep taking in the sight of his guest rummaging around, handling the chicken without struggling too much, really... Khan still cannot believe the other truly brought a whole bird to his apartment and is currently getting it situated to cut it up into pieces.

"Well, you seem to have a plan, though - which is quite reassuring, if I may say so.", is the answer he gives after a moment of silence pass between them, with Khan allowing a bit of a breathy chuckle to leave him as his attention flicks back and forth between those fingers and that pair of dark brown doe-eyes that keep enticing him whenever he dares to gaze into them. It's probably a combination of everything that lures Khan in, really - the fact that this Tony-guy is so very persistent, knows what he wants and does what he takes to get it, as he had said himself before, and that he's very much that kind of guy who's pleasing to ice blue irises.

Attractive. Sporting quite a few features that Khan is very much fond of. Facial hair, dark eyes, a wide smile, a little bit of cockyness, self-confidence, something a little endearingly stupid without him really being that; Khan can tell that Tony is clever, certainly quite intelligent, a man who behaves in peculiar ways and yet it's deeply fascinating.

And when that man then leans toward him, speaks out his next words in an attempt to now fluster him in return - payback, perhaps - Khan doesn't even try too hard to keep his ground here, allows his smirk to get a little lopsided as it widens, accompanied by a glint inside his irises before they fall away, in the very same fashion as Tony's own had mere moments ago. Raven lashes meet a much lighter skintone, decorated by a bit of redness at certain spots from where the sickness is taking its toll; Around the eyes, the nose, the lips, the tissue being slightly irritated. Next to that, though, the tips of Khan's ears do take on a bit of a red hue as well ... just a hint - a smidge, even - but the color-change is there, and Khan huffs out an amused exhale as it happens.

"What if I told you that yes, I would indeed suffer through shitty soup just for you. Honoring all the effort of you raiding a whole supermarket, finding out my address, preparing everything from scratch..."

A blink follows, and Khan's bright blue eyes flick back up to meet Tony's once more. Flirty, perhaps.

"---I''m a gentleman, after all."

It   wouldn’t   take   a   genius   to   figure   out   that   Tony’s   pleased   with   Khan’s   attention,   with   the   way   he   spoke.   There’s   a   flush   actually   coloring   his   tan   cheeks,   and   his   gaze   flickering   down,   making   the   long   lashes   flutter   against   the   heated   skin.   Occupying   himself   by   rolling   up   his   sleeves   right   near   to   his   elbows,   with   practiced   movements   unfastening   the   watch   from   his   wrist   and   setting   it   aside   on   another   counter top,   away   from   all   the   produce.   

Another   sneezing   bout   gives   Tony   the   perfect   opportunity   to   pull   himself   together,   using   the   opportunity   to   turn   away   from   Khan   by   making   his   way   to   the   sink   to   wash   his   hands.   “Okay,   now   you’re   just   setting   me   up   for   failure.   You   can’t   already   call   it   spectacular,   I   haven’t   even   started   yet.”   There’s   amusement   to   his   tone   of   voice,   once   again   easy   going   and   smooth   as   he   dries   his   hands.   And   then   he   goes   for   the   chicken.   Taking   it   out   of   the   package,   washing   and   drying   it,   and   eventually   setting   it   on   the   cutting   board   for   dissection.   

Only   once   he   chops   the   chicken   in   half,   does   Tony   look   back   up   at   Khan,   gaze   slowly   sweeping   up   the   bits   and   pieces   of   his   frame   that   he   could   see,   most   of   it   covered   with   a   blanket.   And   yet   still,   there   is   appreciation   in   his   eyes,   even   with   what   little   he   sees,   admiring   the   fine,   albeit   sick,   figure   that   the   taller   man   cut.   “What   if   I’m   a   terrible   cook   and   my   confidence   is   just   letting   me   delude   myself   into   thinking   that   I   can   pull   this   off,   hm?”   

He’s   leaning   in   over   as   much   as   possible,   given   the   divide   the   counter   has   put   in   between   them   ( and   he’s   trying   to   avoid   touching   the   chicken   with   the   cashmere   sweater   he   has   on ),   giving   Khan   his   most   attractive,   most   practiced   smile.   “Will   you   suffer   through   shitty   soup   just   for   me?”   And   this   was   his   confidence   speaking,   all   mixed   in   with   a   flirtatious   taunt.   He   was   sure   that   if   Khan   was   in   his   full   health,   he   would   be   severely   losing   this   battle   of   making   the   other   flustered.   As   it   stands,   it   was   Tony’s   time   to   shine.   

[respondedinkind]

Don't have the key yet.

For some reason, that part of the other's spoken sentence causes even more amusement to bubble up inside his rather sick body; Khan's smile widens, entertained by how very much obvious this man still is, continuing to flirt with almost every syllable that leaves his mouth. Not that Khan is complaining - far from it, actually - it's just...

Well. People have been flirting with him in the past, of course - rather heavily, on top of that, women and men both - but it's been a while that someone has managed to do it in such a casual, yet almost rude way that it causes Khan's chest to feel a little more warm, electric sparks to flutter inside the pit of his stomach. Most of the times he's tired of what others have to say, trying to be either overly creative while attempting to get into his pants, or being so utterly boring and generic that it sends all synapses inside his brain into instant sleep mode.

Somehow, this guy just manages to waltz along that very sweet middle-line, hitting it perfectly with his unique charm and humor; A brow arches when that bottle of water is snatched from his fingers, replaced by a warm cup of... whatever it is, really, and Khan's unusual guest finally has a name on him.

Tony it is. A rather generic name, yet it fits him, Khan thinks. His doe-eyed knight in shining armor certainly looks and behaves like a Tony would, Khan is sure about it, even though he's no idea how to even describe said behavior to explain that feeling that's accumulating inside his chest.

"---Quite the demanding man you are, Tony.", is what's given as a reply by a rather hoarse, yet still smooth voice; Khan hums, a flash of white teeth briefly peeking through slightly parted lips as that smirk turns into a grin, but it's soon replaced by him taking a sip of that warmed up beverage.

Not tea. Not just hot water. ...Something else, and Khan wonders if he's ever tasted this before. He swallows, knitting his brows in thought, but decides to not inquire about what poison he's consuming here and chuckles instead, allowing his bright gaze to roam over Tony's body - boldly so, from head to toe and back up - before he turns, slowly making his way over to the mess of a couch that's sitting in the middle of the room.

However, Khan does not sit or lie down there, no - he takes one of the blankets instead and wraps it around himself, then returns to the kitchen-part of his living room, taking a seat on one of the barstools instead that belong to the kitchen island. He's just very curious about what this man is going to do, and he can observe much better while being close---

"There.", is what he hums right after, lifting his chin with a expectant gaze lingering in blue irises as they focus on Tony once more. "---I am sitting down, just like you want me to. ...Satisfied?"

A cheeky question, a bit challenging, perhaps.

“Couldn’t   have   just   let   myself   in,   you   know.   Don’t   have   the   key   yet.”   It’s   a   flirtatious   joke   on   the   surface,   one   that   could   mean   practically   nothing.   Only   that   Tony   has   already   decided   that   he   wants   it   to   be   true.   The   moment   the   realization   dawned   that   he   was   very   much   attracted   to   Khan,   in   more   ways   than   just   physical,   he   also   knew   that   he   wanted   anything   and   everything   that   Khan   would   be   willing   to   offer.   

Though   for   that   to   happen,   he   should   tell   Khan   more   about   himself.   After   all,   the   barista   just   admitted   that   he   didn’t   know   so   much   as   his   name!   And   he   nearly   spills   it   all,   from   his   name   to   his   occupation,   to   what   comes   in   a   package   deal   when   it   comes   to   a   relationship   with   him.   It’s   the   part   where   everything   shifts   though   —   whenever   Stark   reveals   his   true   identity,   he   can   see   the   attraction   towards   him   morph   into   attraction   towards   his   money,   and   he   doesn’t   want   this   to   happen.   So   he'll   offer   just   the   basics   until   he   can   figure   out   whether   Khan   was   truly   into   him.   “Right.   Forgot   that   unlike   you,   I   wasn’t   wearing   my   name   tag.   I’m   Tony.   It’s   a   pleasure   to   finally,   actually,   officially   meet   you.”   

A   second   left   until   the   microwave   could   go   off   with   its   incessant   beeping,   Tony   pries   its   doors      open   and   grabs   the   mug.   Two   steps   and   he’s   standing   right   beside   Khan,   snatching   the   water   bottle   from   his   hand   and   depositing   the   mug   in   its   place.   “Drink   this   first,   water   later.”   Very   well   aware   that   he’s   pushing   it,   but   doing   so   nonetheless   until   Khan   tells   him   to   stop.   It   might   just   be   part   of   their   dynamic;   Khan   got   to   command   the   beverages   Tony   got   served   at   the   shop,   and   Tony   in   turn   mother   henned   the   living   crap   out   of   the   sick   barista.   “And   if   you’re   not   gonna   go   lay   down,   the   least   you   can   do   is   sit   down.   I   don’t   think   I’ll   be   able   to   catch   your   tall   ass   body   should   you   faint   on   me.”   

[respondedinkind]

Part of Khan experiences partial whiplash here, because of the unknown man's reaction; He'd expected the other to be more outwardly... taken-aback, perhaps, by the news he's just received. It doesn't happen, not as violently as Khan had thought it would, with his guest seemingly being much more focused on his health instead, the temperature he's reading off of the thermometer.

It feels... endearing, almost, in a strange way. They don't even know each other, not well at least, and here this guy is, caring about Khan's cold and the state he is in as if they've been friends for a long time. That this man is very much interested in Khan is obvious to him by now... but he simply hadn't expected any of what's happening now to ever... well, happen. Not in a million years.

... Yeah, and Khan still hasn't asked for the man's name, despite him making himself a home inside his apartment, searching - and finding - a mug, filling it with whatever medicine he's gotten after seemingly having raided the local drug store's inventory.

"---Well, I was lying down - until you came around.", is the comment Khan makes, though it's meant in a more playful than serious way, really; He coughs again, watches the medicine being prepared, then listens to the question following soon after...

And the statement regarding homemade soup. ---Of course this stranger, this unknown man, this customer who has been aggressively flirting with Khan, is going to make homemade soup. Sure.

No, Khan is not going to stop him, but he is amused - and still very much surprised, a little overwhelmed - by... everything. Hard to stop those feelings from existing with how very much unusual the whole of this moment is, all things considered.

And that's precisely why the corner of his mouth is getting pulled up there, allowing the barest hint of a smirk to appear on his usually so smooth but now rather dry lips. Khan's head hurts, he feels as if he's going up into flames, his clogged nose is making him go insane and that cough is very much annoying... And yet his guest is managing to make him smile, just like that.

"---No allergies. At least none that would affect the soup you're going to make, or the medicine you're about to force me to take."

And yes, perhaps Khan should go and lie back down on the couch, but... he's intrigued, continues to watch that man, takes in the sight of him.

It's been a while since someone has last cared about him so much...

"But I think it's about time for you to finally introduce yourself; I would rather have a man with a name make my apartment his possession than a stranger, after all."

Taking a breath through his parted lips, Khan swallows before he makes his way over to the fridge; His throat feels so, so dry, he needs a sip of water, and the bottle next to the couch is empty...

The   only   thing   that   initially   crosses   Tony’s   mind   as   Khan   tries   to   provide   an   explanation   is   that   a   grown   ass   man   shouldn’t   look   this   adorable   while   sick.   Then,   of   course,   the   realization   dawns   on   him   that   he’s   really   down   bad   for   the   taller   man.   This   was   only   their   third   meeting   for   crying   out   loud,   and   while   him   finding   the   other   breathtakingly   hot   is   nothing   new   —   Tony   is   very   much   a   visual   creature   first   —   finding   him   adorable   is   something   that   makes   alarms   blare   in   his   mind.   That   is   a   big,   fat   crush   that   he’s   sporting   and   if   he   doesn’t   get   himself   in   order   it   might   just   turn   into   something   bigger   and   much   less   easier   to   ignore.   

He’s   snapping   out   of   it   with   the   sound   of   Khan’s   sneeze,   bringing   him   out   of   his   thoughts   and   back   to   reality.   And   said   reality   is   really   kind   of   nice,   some   things   finally   starting   to   make   sense.   Thank   god   his   brain   is   back   to   full   capability,   so   he   can   fill   in   the   information   that   the   other   man   has   left   between   the   lines.   Some   weight   has   been   lifted   off   his   shoulders;   the   voice   in   the   back   of   his   head   whispering   that   he’s   making   a   fool   of   himself   and   Khan’s   just   too   polite   to   tell   him   to   leave,   finally   getting   silenced.   

“Don’t   apologize,   I   shouldn’t   have   tried   to   play   it   subtle.”   The   thermometer   beeps   to   signal   it’s   done   and   Tony   reaches   out   to   gently   remove   it   from   Khan’s   mouth.   A   low   whistle   sounds   from   his   own   as   he   reads   the   temperature,   eyebrows   shooting   up   towards   the   hairline.   “Buddy,   how   are   you   even   standing   right   now?   You   need   to   go   lay   down   right   now.”

He’ll   bring   up   the   topic   about   his   number   later.   There   was   a   matter   of   a   high   fever   at   hand,   measures   were   needed   to   be   taken   in   order   to   get   it   down   before   they   could   discuss   the   state   their. . .   well   whatever   it   was.   So   Tony’s   a   fluster   of   action   again,   moving   his   way   through   cabinets   until   he   finds   cups   in   one   of   them,   filling   it   with   water   and   a   packet   of   medicine,   setting   it   in   the   microwave   to   warm   up.   “Do   you   have   any   allergies?   I’m   going   to   make   you   some   homemade   soup   —   no   medicine   or   teas   work   as   well   as   soup   —   so   you   gotta   let   me   know   beforehand   if   there’s   anything   that   could   potentially   cause   you   more   harm   than   good.”   

[respondedinkind]

All Khan can do, really, is to keep watching his unannounced guest making his way through the kitchen like he owns it, has been here on many occasions before - as if this isn't his very first time to ever visit the cute barista, as that man is calling Khan.

It's confusing, surprising and very much impressive at the same time, causes a mixture of interesting sensations to pulse through Khan's suffering body; He continues to feel more and more at ease, simply because the man's own casualness is very much bleeding over to him, but then he simply has such a hard time to grasp the whole concept of this situation - still overwhelmed, unsure how to even process the amount of information he's given.

... That really is a whole chicken sitting on the kitchen island there---

Blue eyes, momentarily focused on the meat in question, flick back over to the shorter one when he makes his way back over to him, elaborating on why Khan should have texted him and how it would have been possible for him to even do it; He's very much not pleased, Khan can tell, sounds disappointed about having gone ignored.

And as soon as the tip is mentioned, Khan's stomach drops.

The thermometer is held out toward him, together with the guy - fuck, Khan doesn't even know his name! - glancing at him in a mixture of something sheepish and expectant, perhaps... and the sheepish-part looks so foreign on him that this gaze alone causes a breath to get stuck inside a throat for a second, with Khan opening and closing his lips a few times like a fish out of water, unsure where to even begin with what he has to say.

"---Okay... ---Okay, wait a second."

Blinking again, clearing his throat - then briefly turning his head to the side, away from his guest, to cough a few times and stop a sneeze from coming over him, features distorting as he sniffles, then looks back at that man-without-a-name - Khan takes a breath, moves his hand to take that thermometer out of the shorter one's grasp, being careful but persistent, before lowering it. Keeping his stare focused on his previous customer, fever not as important right now, because he has to clear up a misunderstanding here.

"I think we have to talk about something here - because I can tell that you're hurt by... what you think has happened."

There it is, the sneeze; Khan just barely manages to turn away, lifting his arm in front of his nose before it breaks free of him, violently so, causing the whole of his body to shake for a second with the intensity of it. He coughs, swallows, taking another breath before mumbling a quiet "My apologies.", then turns back to face that guy for the millionth time today.

"---Let me explain: I never handle the tip jar. I never open it, and I never take out the tips. It's one of the many shop policies existing; I simply take the jar to the back at the end of the day, and my superior - the owner of the establishment, to be precise - handles it in the morning. Once done, I receive the empty jar and place it back out for the customers to fill as they please."

And that is precisely why Khan did not get that number, and had no idea about anything. He does not say it out loud, but he hopes that his slightly tilted head and the barest lift of his brow does tell about the obvious fact that he also never sees a penny of those tips, that all of them are going straight to his superior's wallet where they'll live a comfortable life.

He allows a second to pass between them, followed by an almost apologetic expression that crosses his tired - and sweaty - features, before he finally brings that thermometer up to his mouth and puts it between his lips, under his tongue, to let it do its work.

...It soon shows that Khan is, indeed, quite sick - said temperature seems to be at a not-so-comfortable 102,2 degrees fahrenheit. At least that's what the thermometer says after a few seconds of time have passed.

All of this sucks, he thinks; That man has, apparently, written his number on a piece of paper, and Marcus must have found it.... but chose to throw it away, never tell anyone about it. Of course that's what happened, and that's why his guest feels the way he does... probably thought of Khan being a huge asshole who didn't even think of texting him, despite them having had rather interesting conversations back at the café...

"---I'm sorry.", is what Khan mumbles, muffled due to the thermometer still being stuck between his lips. "It was not my intention to make you feel the way you did."

Tony   is   a   fluster   of   action   in   the   flat,   marching   back   a   few   steps   to   snatch   a   thermometer   he   bought   from   the   kitchen   island.   He   had   a   wonderful   gift,   that   Rhodey   would   say   is   more   of   an   annoying   lack   of   self-awareness,   to   feel   at   home   in   any   and   every   place   he   went   to.   There   was   no   exception   in   Khan’s   apartment   either,   he   was   going   about   as   though   he   owned   the   place   himself.   So   far,   the   taller   man   didn’t   seem   to   mind,   but   then   again,   he   was   probably   a)   too   shocked   to   say   anything   about   it,   b)   too   sick   to   understand   what’s   going   on   or   c)   all of the above.   Or   maybe   none   at   all,   maybe   he   just   didn’t   care   that   Tony   seemed   to   disregard   all   social   norms.   

“No,   we   haven’t   exchanged   numbers.”   He’s   taking   the   thermometer   out   of   the   box   and   setting   it   aside,   only   to   grab   a   pack   of   alcohol   wipes   out   of   another   box,   tearing   the   packaging   open   and   slipping   a   singular   wipe   out,   gently   cleaning   off   the   device.   “But   I   have   left   you   my   phone   number   with   the   tip   and   I   was   pretty   patiently   waiting   until   you   would   text   me.   That   didn’t   happen   and   my   patience   ran   out   and   while   I   get   that   I   have   taken   pretty   extreme   measures   to   reach   out   to   you   again,   I   think   on   our   first   meeting   you   should’ve   known   that   I   am   pretty   intense   when   it   comes   to   the   things   I   do   or   like   so. . .   Here   I   am.”   

At   the   end   of   his   rant,   Tony’s   biting   into   his   lower   lip   and   the   look   he   presents   is   probably   the   first   time   he   seemed   even   a   little   bit   sheepish,   gazing   up   at   Khan   over   his   lashes.   Gently   shaking   the   oral   thermometer   to   get   the   alcohol   to   dry   out   quicker,   that   moment   of   his   vulnerability   is   gone   the   second   it   seemed   like   Khan   processed   at   least   half   of   what   he   had   said,   the   engineer   makes   his   way   back   to   him,   holding   up   the   device.   “Now   open   up,   I   need   to   see   just   how   high   your   fever   is.”   

[respondedinkind]

This man sure as hell is special, in more than just one way; Had he caused Khan to be completely overwhelmed with his arrival, the way he'd entered the apartment and being so utterly casual about it that it's almost funny, really, he now adds on top of all that confusion by unpacking his two, very much to the top filled bags. Blue eyes blink as they take in the sight of the man putting everything onto the kitchen island - an assortment of what appears to be medicine to treat almost anything a man could suffer from, followed by... food?

Is that a whole chicken?!

Once again, Khan blinks - taken aback by the sheer volume and variety of everything his unknown visitor has brought over. It's almost too much to take, the fact that this man is being here, providing Khan with a whole drug store as well as at least half of a grocery store... and judged by how he moves, part of Khan wonders if he's going to cook something here...?

... What does feel rather relieving, Khan has to admit, is the fact that the man is still continuing to be nonchalant - as if the state of Khan's apartment, nor the state he himself is in are truly bothering that guy. Perhaps that's the case; Maybe he's seen worse in his life...?

Information after information hits his tired, boiling brain, one after another (so, Alice, huh?), and all Khan can do is to part his lips in a gasp - momentarily too stunned to even give a verbal reply - as his guest makes his way back to him, then brings a blissfully cool hand up to the burning skin of his forehead. Khan almost leans into the touch, almost allows himself to seek more of it, but manages to catch himself before it happens; It is then that a very fine detail suddenly pops in, causing his reddened eyes to widen before dark brows knit into another, very much confused, expression.

Wait, what does the unknown one mean by... that? Texting him? How should Khan have---

"...I---.", he starts, finally managing to find his voice, swallowing before clearing his throat as it sounds much more like a croak than actual syllables. "---Tea, yes." Ah, what a wonderful answer to give. But he's only got half a braincell working to proide that bit of information, and it takes him an additional quiet second to force his headache to allow him to focus back to the other topic---

"...Excuse me.", he says, lifting a hand as if to ask for a short break. Perhaps it's directed at the customer, perhaps it's directed at Khan himself - maybe a mixture of both? Eyes close for a second, accompanied by an inhale of air through a very much stuffed nose before Khan's gaze rests upon the other once more.

"Did you just say... that I never texted you?"

Did Khan get that right? He just wants to confirm his fever isn't causing him to make a fool out of himself - funny, though, because if that unknown man hasn't said anything of the matter, this is very much making Khan appear like said fool already, no? Well, anyways...

"...In case I did hear right: How am I supposed to... ---Well, as far as I know, we never exchanged numbers?"

Did Khan miss something? Did he forget about an entire day at work? Is he suffering from amnesia? Is he more sick than he thinks he is...?!

He   probably   should   have   first   asked   whether   it’s   okay   to   come   in.   For   all   that   Tony   knew   there   could’ve   been   someone   already   taking   care   of   Khan.   After   all,   he   never   did   find   out   whether   the   man   was   single   or   not.   For   all   that   he   knew,   there   could   be   a   chance   that   his   current   boyfriend   or   girlfriend   were   in   the   bedroom   or   bathroom   at   that   very   moment,   soon   to   resurface   in   all   their   supermodel   glory.   And   with   a   man   like   Khan   at   their   arm,   they   would   have   to   be   drop   dead   gorgeous.   

So   Tony,   parading   about,   making   his   way   to   the   kitchen   island   to   unload   the   two   full   bags   of   groceries   and   medicine   could   be   seen   as   a   very   obnoxious   side   piece.   Even   though   he   wasn’t   even   that.   He   was   basically   a   stranger   to   whom   Khan   didn’t   even   bother   sending   a   text.   Damn.   Maybe   Tony   shouldn’t   let   his   impulsiveness   get   the   best   of   him   like   that.   

Although,   now   that   he’s   here,   he   might   as   well   get   on   with   his   self-appointed   nurse   duties.   That   is,   until   he’s   kicked   out   of   the   apartment   by   Khan’s   hot   supermodel   significant   other.   “Yes,   hello.   I   think   I’ve   said   that   to   you   already,   but   you’re   sick   and   pretty   cute,   so   it’s   okay.”   Pushing   his   sunglasses   into   his   hair,   Tony   gives   the   other   man   yet   another   quick   smile   while   he   sets   a   whole   stack   of   carton   boxes   on   the   counter top.   Cough   syrups,   medicines   for   headache,   fever,   clogged   sinuses,   for   sore   throat   —   everything   that   he   could   find   in   any   flavor.   Couldn’t   risk   buying   something   that   Khan   refused   to   take   because   he   couldn’t   stomach   grape   or   citrus   taste.   

“I   got   your   address   from. . .   Alice,   was   it?   Your   colleague.”   Tony   answers   the   unfinished   question   after   a   bout   of   sneezing   and   coughing   has   passed,   moving   onto   the   grocery   back   and   putting   down   everything   on   the   remaining   space   of   the   kitchen   island.   There’s   more   ingredients   than   just   for   the   chicken   noodle   soup,   and   really,   he   could’ve   just   gotten   a   bowl   of   it   from   a   restaurant,   but   nothing   works   as   well   as   homemade.   Lacks   the   heart,   as   his   mother   would   say.   

A   shrug   and   a   dismissive   wave   of   his   hand   follows   Khan’s   words,   Tony   snatches   a   thermometer   he   bought   at   the   store,   taking   it   out   of   its   package.   “Well,   I   would   have   let   you   know   that   I’m   coming   over,   but   I   couldn’t   really,   since   you   never   did   text   me.”   His   words   are   as   teasing   as   they   are   a   way   for   him   to   gather   information   about   what   happened   to   the   note   he   left   with   the   tips,   rounding   back   to   Khan   over   the   kitchen   island   so   he   could   touch   the   back   of   his   hand   to   the   taller   man’s   forehead.   A   small   grimace   at   the   heat   he   finds   there,   his   knuckles   gently   brushing   over   Khan’s   cheek   before   he   lets   his   arm   drop   completely.   

“Have   you   taken   anything   besides   what   I   assume   is   a   crapload   of   tea?”   Throwing   a   look   at   the   numerous   cups   scattered   across   the   coffee   table   in   the   living   room   space.   

[respondedinkind]

Khan has to admit that he enjoys it, to watch the unknown man's features change with the many emotions he goes through during that one moment that happens between them; It amuses him, deeply so, tugs on the corners of Khan's mouth as he continues to take in the sight with his rather expectant gaze. His customer finally speaks after another second passes and it's not surprising to hear him being his teasing self, to which Khan hums out a low, contemplating noise in return.

"---That certainly does make sense, I have to agree.", is what he says then, his slender fingers now reaching for another, dry towel, which Khan starts to wipe the counter with; he wants to be finished at some point after all, his shift ends in about twenty minutes and there is no other customer in sight...

"Especially since you tipped this shop rather well, all things considered." There's a reason Khan phrases it like that, but he does not elaborate on it; His gaze falls away instead as he continues to wipe the smooth surface between them, then puts the towel away before continuing to rummage around - he refills some of the coffee machine's trays with coffee beans of various kinds, puts them where they belong, then walks over to the sink a bit further to the side to continue washing up some more of the used cups.

He does look up to meet the other's gaze, though - causing bright blues to connect with an incredibly deep shade of brown - and the hint of that smirk returns to full lips then, as Khan washes the dishes, puts the dripping ceramic on a tray next to himself.

"I can assure you, though, that the generous tip - as well as you being a paying customer - is not the reason for me to keep listening to you." Another hint, another offering coming from the 'cute barista', as that guy had called Khan before. It is accompanied by the smirk widening into something more obvious, just for a second, as well as a cheeky glance that soon trails away and focuses back on his task at hand: Cleaning cups and plates. The dishwasher broke a few days ago and no, his manager did not care about buying a new one just yet...

"---That tea is a special, house-made blend. Let me know what you think of it; Be careful, though - don't burn your tongue..."

Tony’s   lips   purse   and   he’s   just   about   to   plead   his   case   as   to   why   guessing   was   not   something   he   could   pull   off   at   that   very   moment.   Even   he   can   tell   that   he’s   not   entirely   lucid   at   the   current   state,   most   definitely   not   at   his   sharpest   wit.   He   can   be   blunt,   sure,   and   he   can   flirt,   but   he   cannot   tell   if   someone   is   flirting   back   with   him   or   not.   It   feels   quite   a   bit   like   feeling   drunk,   if   he   was   honest   with   himself,   and   he   knew   that   he   really,   really   needed   to   drag   his   ass   to   bed.   Preferably   before   he   could   do   something   to   harm   himself.   

However,   before   he   could,   Khan’s   hint,   as   he   so   wittily   dubbed   it,   had   provided   him   with   quite   a   blunt   answer,   which   caused   a   low   chuckle   to   rumble   in   Tony’s   throat.   “Maybe   you’re   just   picking   your   battles.   You’ve   already   ignored   my   order   and   have   been   quite   argumentative   with   me.   Maybe   also   telling   me   to   fuck   off   would   mean   losing   a   potential   new   client   at   best   and   a   bad   review   on   Yelp   at   worst   and   you   just   don’t   wanna risk it.”   He’s   being   cheeky,   as   much   as   he   can   be   with   his   mind   feeling   as   foggy.   He’ll   have   to   return   to   the   shop   one   more   time,   Tony   has   decided,   purely   so   he   can   show   off   just   how   quick   and   charming   he   can   be   when   he’s   actually   well   rested.   

Aware   enough   in   his   state   still   that   he   will   burn   his   mouth   if   he   attempts   to   get   the   taste   of   the   tea   without   letting   it   cool   off   for   a   little   bit,   Tony   chooses   instead   to   pick   the   cup   up   and   take   in   a   deep   breath.   The   aroma   filling   up   his   lungs   feels   incredible,   and   that’s   saying   a   lot,   because   he   never   was   much   of   a   tea   guy.   “Oh,   I   can   already   tell   this   is   gonna   be   divine,   and   perfect   for   what   I   need.   Thank   you.”   

[respondedinkind]

When Khan receives the confirmation regarding his erratic customer's true reason for coming around, he can barely hide the smirk that tugs on the corner of his mouth; In fact, he can't, so said corner is tugged upward briefly as slender fingers continue to rub the moist cloth along the exterior of the coffee machine, removing fingerprints and hints of coffee that sticks to the sleek metal.

Clear eyes flick over to the man in question for a second once more, taking in the sight of him - trailing along the form of that guy, his face and his shoulders, chest, hips, then back up to the irises that could very well belong to a deer rather than a human being. Isn't it illegal, in some way, to sport those eyes and carry them around openly for everyone to gaze at?

The smirk is only fueled by another burst of amusement that bubbles inside Khan's chest; He hums out a low, contemplating noise, attention back on his task at hand before the cloth is neatly folded, then set to the side. As he turns, his back toward the unknown man, said smirk widens while Khan takes a cannekin as well as a bag filled with loose, green tea - it's a calming blend, one that's meant to be soothing and relaxing for both the body and the soul; He supposes his customer will appreciate it.

If he does not - well, it's his own loss. This tea is incredible, high quality, one of Khan's favorites... and he wants to see what that man thinks of it.

"---How about I'll let you make an educated guess."

A sufficient amount of crushed leaves and herbs are placed into the cannekin before Khan returns to the coffee machine from before; Not only does it serve coffee, but also simple hot water - the temperature perfect for brewing an enjoyable cup of aromatic tea. The motion causes him to turn back around, allows blue eyes to be in view once more, as Khan fills said cannekin with the hot water.

"You seem to be quite clever, no? You're working on your doctorate thesis, after all, so... what do you think? Do I swing that way... or am I not?"

A slow blink, bright gaze flicking up; Khan's smirk returns, a little cheeky, definitely challenging and expectant as he pours the tea from the cannekin into the cup, being careful so as to keep the leaves and herbs within the cannekin. Once done, he puts it to the side, then gets one of those small sugar packs and places it next to the mug; The drink is finished, pushed toward the other, and Khan stands straight once more.

"I'll give you a hint: I haven't asked you stop just yet." He tilts his head the faintest bit, arching a brow.

"Enjoy your drink."

The   only   response   to   Khan’s   counterargument   that   Tony   gave   out   was   a   look   which   was   meant   to   state   good   luck   trying   to   find   a   police   officer   competent   enough.   He   doesn’t   argue   further   on   the   point;   considers   it   well   in   the   past.   He   knows   the   barista   just   meant   well,   and   Tony   will   be   the   first   to   point   out   that   he   looked   like   a   walking   corpse   that   day,   probably   still   does   at   that   moment   too,   only   one   dressed   in   clean   clothing.   And   attempting   to   get   into   detail   how   everyone   seemed   to   know   what’s   best   for   Tony   without   even   asking   him   would   take   too   much   time.   Frankly,   he’s   probably   got   another   two   hours   in   him   before   he   passes   out   cold   right   on   his   feet.   

There   is   a   smile   that   passes   over   his   mouth,   a   more   secretive   one.   Tony   hasn’t   completely   lost   his   mind   to   brag   about   the   true   nature   of   his   riches.   Learned   that   lesson   the   hard   way:   as   soon   as   anyone   finds   out   about   the   balance   of   his   bank   account,   their   interests   shift.   No   longer   attracted   to   him   but   to   his   money.   So,   he’d   rather   enjoy   Khan’s   attention   on   him   purely   because   of   himself   for   as   long   as   he   can.   

“Why?   I’ve   been   hitting   on   you   quite   blatantly.   And   yes,   I   realize   that   it’s   not   a   very   good   thing   for   me   to   do,   cause   I’ve   no   idea   if   you   even   swing   that   way,”   Tony   shrugs,   looking   Khan   up   and   down   with   a   smirk.   Moment   of   truth,   he   either   tells   Tony   to   fuck   off   or   confirms   his   suspicions   that   the   barista   was   quite   into   the   flirting.   Or   he   could   do   nothing,   but   that   would   still   not   be   a   blatant   no,   and   the   engineer   can   work   with   that.   “So   it’s   not   too   hard   to   believe   that   I   came   here   just   to . . .   chat   you   up,   as   you   so   put   it.”   

Though,   he   can’t   quite   stop   himself   from   adding:   “And   a   cup   of   tea would be nice.   Something   to   help   me   actually   fall   asleep   after   the   amount   of   caffeine   I’ve   ingested.”   

[respondedinkind]

That man certainly has a unique kind of charm sticking to him, despite sporting those dark circles - that only seem to get worse with each second that passes - and what are the remains of an untrimmed goatee grown into an almost full beard by now. His brilliant, white-toothed smile might be one of the reasons why Khan notices said charm; Perhaps it's also the way the other speaks, his voiced syllables suave but also very much polite while being incredibly cheeky at the same time.

At least he doesn't seem to be too angered about the espresso-situation - the RedBulls might have saved Khan's behind here... and his job, for the matter. Because if that unknown one had decided to ask for the manager, complained while mentioning the tip of two hundred dollars, demanding those back, Khan sure as hell wouldn't be around for his next shift anymore.

Clear irises take in the sight of his customer elaborating, flick down to take in the sight of that can being placed between them, then trail back up to meet the impossibly dark doe-eyes once more, drinking in the depth of those pupils. While Khan's exterior remains perfectly collected - and appears almost unfazed, for the matter - he is very much appreciating the captiveness of those irises he's met with, without allowing himself to go too far.

Watching from a distance, so to speak.

"...Our to-go cups are decorated with the name of this shop, quite boldly so.", is the comment he makes then, speaks it as a dry matter of fact, accompanied by a slow blink. "And I am usually the one to handle the day-shift. ...Chances are actually quite high for a competent police officer to figure stuff out, you know."

Even though he sounds serious, it is meant as a bit of banter that's thrown back and forth between them; Khan hums out a low noise as he turns to the side, his gaze resting on that erratic man for a bit longer before it also flicks away, focusing on the coffee machine next to him instead as slender fingers start to use the wet towel he's been holding onto to wipe it down.

The compliment he receives - a series of those, actually - is noted, however, and it causes the corner of his mouth to twitch up into a half-smirk for a second while nostrils flare, an inhale of breath being taken through slightly parted, full lips. Still feels good to receive those, and there's little Khan can do to stop himself from reacting to it... in one way or another.

"Well, I am glad I was able to prevent your sure death and assist you along your path to become a millionaire, then." No, Khan doesn't think the other is, or is going to be one, but... who knows? "Isn't it fascinating what a single cup of high-quality coffee can make one achieve?" He's purposefully ignoring the RedBull.

... Gorgeous the unknown one has called him, Khan thinks to himself, and it causes the half-smirk to grow for a second before it mellows out, with those blue eyes looking back at that rather interesting man once more as large hands wipe down the handles at the front of the machine, slide up and down, removing fingerprints...

"---In case you want another cup of that coffee I've allowed you to enjoy on your back home two days ago, you should order one now - before I'm done cleaning the machine. For obvious reasons." That bright gaze flicks away again, followed up by a somewhat thoughtful - and amused - hint of a noise. "...Or did you just come around to read my name tag and ... chat me up?"

“I   don’t   think   anyone   would   have   traced   my   death   back   to   you.”   His   voice   is   light   and   airy,   like   discussing   the   weather   or   feeling   out   the   vibes   of   the   conversation   before   he   could   determine   if   he   should   or   shouldn’t   flirt.   There’s   a   smile   still   stuck   on   Tony’s   features   and   he   doesn’t   hide   it   anymore,   cocking   his   hip   to   rest   against   the   counter,   the   near   empty   can   set   atop   the   counter   in   between   the   two   men.   “I   had   the   coffee   finished   and   tossed   the   cup   in   a   trash   can   halfway   home.”   

Suddenly   he   waves   his   hand,   as   though   shooing   something   away.   Tony   didn’t   come   all   the   way   there   instead   of   falling   straight   into   his   bed   just   to   discuss   if   Khan   taking   liberties   with   his   order   was   a   good   or   a   bad   thing   to   do.   No,   he   had   other   motives.   “You’re   right.   The   coffee   was   great,   so   were   the   six-ish   cans   of   energy   drinks   I   had   after   that.   But—”   a   finger   pointed   at   Khan,   his   grin   grows,   from   amused   to   nearly   manic.   “Your   little   stunt,   resisting   my   order,   it   gave   me   an   idea.”   

There   had   been   a   moment,   all   of   two   minutes,   that   he   had   grumbled   about   the   audacity   of   the   handsome   barista.   Even   strangers   seemed   to   be   comfortable   deciding   what   was   good   for   Tony   and   what   wasn’t,   and   it   had   ticked   him   off.   But   that   all   turned   around   when   his   next   project   started   taking   shape   in   his   mind.   “Not   only   was   I   able   to   finish   the   practical   proof   needed   for   my   doctorate thesis,   I   now   have   a   new   idea   that   could   bring   me   millions.   All   thanks   to   a   gorgeous,   stubborn   man   who   served   me   the   wrong   cup   of   coffee. So . . . thank you, Khan.”   

[respondedinkind]

... Khan's very much unique - and a little erratic - customer does not return the next day.

And as much as that does not need to be a bad sign to begin with - not everyone visits a coffee shop on the daily, for the matter, and that unknown guy had only been around once so far - Khan still finds himself thinking about it, wondering if that not-espresso he's given the man instead of his heartattack-in-a-cup is the reason for him to... well, not be here.

...At least he didn't show up to demand his twohundred dollars back. Because those are gone by now - and no, they're not sitting within Khan's pockets, for the matter. They sit inside someone else's, this is just how it's done here.

Even though they don't know each other, even though they haven't even talked much - or at all - Khan keeps wondering in between cleaning counters and preparing hot beverages, serving slices of cake to customers who have taken a seat within this establishment to linger for a little while. He thinks of that guy, thinks of the things he's said, the way he had stared at him with his impossibly big and very much not-legal deep brown eyes...

There's work to be done, however, so Khan keeps himself occupied - and then, once the shop closes, he leaves it without having seen that interesting man at all.

The next morning comes, it passes, so does lunchtime and the early afternoon. No doe-eyed customer in sight, and Khan is quite sure by now that he won't return - that the not-espresso has definitely not met that man's expectations, not at all. A one time wonder, he supposes, and all that remains of him is that feeling he's given Khan - the feeling of being... well, looked at a certain way. Oh, and yes, the memory of those dark eyes. That one sticks as well.

Only half an hour left, the coffee shop is empty; Khan knows that he can start to put things away, clean up whatever mess has been created during the day. He sighs to himself as he washes a few cups, puts them to the side, grabs a wet towel and starts to wipe the counter---

---But then the doorbell rings and he glances up, met with the sight of him, of all people, making a straight beeline toward said counter, RedBull in hand. There's no greeting coming from him but rather... a complaint of sorts, though it sounds rather lighthearted, all things considered.

That guy looks... a bit better. A bit. But at the same time he looks worse. ...That's quite the thing to achieve, really.

Taking a soft inhale of air, Khan stands straight, his gaze lingering on the man who is in dire need of something healthy, but doesn't seem to care much about it; He allows a second to pass, accompanied by a jaw working briefly, slender fingers folding the towel, subconsciously so.

...At least he calls the coffee he's gotten delicious, that's a start, no?

"You are right about that.", is what Khan finally replies, accompanied by a gentle, almost nonexistent tilt of his head. "I simply didn't want to risk it, to end my day being interrogated; 'Man found dead after consuming lethal dose of caffeeine bought at the local coffee shop'. ---I had plans for the evening. Plans which did not include the visit of a police station."

Khan knows that this is not the right way to treat a returning customer - or to handle said complaint, for the matter - but something tells him that this man can, and wants, to take it. So he just speaks it out like that and hopes he won't get fired over it.

"---You did return, however, and called the beverage you received delicious." A simple observation, accompanied by a somewhat expectant gaze lingering in those clear eyes... or maybe a hint of a challenge? Who knows. Maybe it's nothing - Khan's expression remains calm and collected, neutral, perfectly polite. "...You also seem to have gotten yourself a substitute."

Oh,   that   might   have   also   been   the   wrong   move.   Though   the   other   man   seemed   to   hide   it   pretty   well,   Tony   could   still   tell   that   his   little   stunt   had   managed   to   sweep   the   proverbial   rug   from   under   Khan’s   feet.   Maybe   he   should   have   just   shut   his   mouth   and   left   without   making   a   show   of   it.   Maybe.   He   doesn’t   know.   He   doesn’t   know   anything   anymore   and   that’s   really   not   a   good   sign.   Not   if   he   wanted   to   finish   up   with   his   project   within   the   next   forty   eight   hours.   

Tony   blinks,   his   attention   jumping   from   the   man,   to   the   cookies   and   back   to   man,   eyebrows   going   up   towards   his   hairline.   What   he   needs   is   a   good   rest,   preferably   at   least   twelve   hours   of   sleep,   and   another   hour   or   two   to   re-imagine   this   entire   interaction   in   his   mind.   Find   if   there   is   actually   something   more   to   this   conversation,   or   if   he   was   hallucinating   the   subtle   flirtations   instead   of   the   reality   which   is   forced   politeness   in   order   to   get   the   crazy   man   out   of   the   coffee   shop   faster.   

“Thank   you.   For   the   coffee   and   the   cookies.”   He   says   once   the   silence   becomes   too   prolonged.   Gets   the   paper   cup   from   the   counter   and   gives   the   barista   a   nod.   “If   the   coffee’s   good,   I   will   be   back.”   And   with   a   little   wave,   Tony   sweeps   out   of   the   coffee   shop,   not   wanting   to   overstay   his   welcome   any   longer.   

And   he   doesn’t   stay   away   for   long.   A   day   and   a   half   later,   just   half   an   hour   before   the   coffee   shop   could   close,   Tony’s   sweeping   back   in.   From   the   first   look   he   seems   more   put   together.   An   hour   in   a   shower   left   his   skin   and   hair   clean,   a   fresh   set   of   clothing   prevented   him   from   looking   like   a   homeless   person, again.   Mind,   pairing   sweatpants   with   a   dress   shirt   and   moccasins   was   not   the   wisest   idea,   but   then   again,   his   mind   was   still   running   on   overtime.   A   second   look   at   him   would   show   the   even   darker   circles   under   his   eyes,   his   goatee   gone   into   a   nearly   full   blown   beard,   and   the   quiver   in   his   hands   gave   away   that   he   still   hasn’t   slept.   

So   it   was   not   his   wisest   idea   to   go   back   into   that   coffee   shop   in   search   of   the   cute   barista   while   still   very   much   a   hot   mess,   armed   with   a   can   of   RedBull.   But   excitement   was   spurring   him   on,   and   he   had   to   share   it   before   he could   get   some   rest   and   logic   and   common   sense   would start   making   decisions   for   him.   

“I’m   pretty   sure   I   ordered   a   cup   full   of   espresso   when   I   came   in   here   a   couple   days   ago,”   Tony   says   instead   of   a   greeting,   hiding   his   grin   by   taking   a   sip   of   the   energy   drink.   “Whatever   I   got   was   delicious,   yes,   but   it   was   not   espresso.”   

[respondedinkind]

... So Khan's first assumption regarding the man's previous stare had been correct, then; He was - and still seems to be - intrigued by Khan's mere presence, his visual appearance, the way he exists behind the coffee shop's counter. That actually causes something inside Khan to pulse a bit more quickly, the sensation to appear that one experiences when met with such a reaction - akin to receiving a well-spoken compliment, perhaps.

Who doesn't enjoy it to be... desired, after all? Even though that word might be a bit over the top here to describe the moment as a whole, but...

Well, maybe it's not, judged by the fact that his greasy, overworked and yet very much doe-eyed customer just tipped Khan two-hundred dollars, on top of paying five bucks for his coffee instead of the four dollars and seventy-five cents. That one Khan could have taken with a mere hum, but the tip is what actually makes him blink, causes dark eyebrows to shoot up along the span of his forehead for a moment or two before they sink back down into place.

He wonders if the other now expects Khan to invite him to dinner or something... But Khan is not purchasable... he tells himself. Tells himself again. Tells himself a third time as his gaze flicks to the tip jar, to the two notes lingering inside, and then back to those very dark, very big eyes that look very much happy to have received what they have been asking for.

...Except that the coffee is not going to be an espresso. Khan hopes he won't return and demand his two hundred dollars back because of that...

Features return to something much more neutral then, with Khan clearing his throat briefly as he blinks, then stands a bit more straight - slender fingers coming to a rest on the edge of the counter in front of him, followed by a set of pursed lips - stretched into a half-smirk - and a low hum.

"I appreciate it - thank you. Very generous of you." He almost feels stupid for voicing out his gratitude like that; Alice would probably be much more enthusiastic about it, offer a few almost-tears and ask a thousand times whether their customer is sure about that huge tip... but Khan is, well, Khan.

And he starts to feel a little guilty about the coffee... but then... He's probably saving a life here. That's more important.

"---Please come again.", is what he adds after a while before reaching over to a display case filled with an assortment of pre-packed cookies. He takes one of those packs - it contains three chocolate chip ones - before putting it on top of the cup still sitting on the counter. "...And take these. A snack will surely do you well."

The   lack   of   response   doesn’t   bode   well;   the   cute   barista,   Khan,   if   he   was   wearing   the   correct   name   tag,   turned   to   fulfill   his   order   without   another   word,   which   meant   that   he   most   likely   thought   him   to   be   insane.   Which   is   a   shame,   even   in   this   state,   the   engineer   without   a   doubt   would   like   to   see   more   of   the   handsome   stranger,   not   only   in   the   scenery   of   this   coffee   shop.   And   as   first   impressions   go,   well,   he   fucked   that   up.   

Tony   picks   his   gaze   back   up   from   being   stuck   on   the   ends   of   his   shoes,   raking   over   a   very   obviously   lean   and   toned   body,   hidden   away   only   by   the   brown   apron   and   a   ridiculously   tight   pullover   that   just   pronounced   the   bulging   biceps   all   the   better,   up   until   it   stops   back   on   the   icy   blue   eyes.   A   smile   of   his   own   tugs   on   his   lips,   much   softer   than   the   one   given.   He   blames   heat   he   feels   in   his   cheeks   over   the   exhaustion   he   feels,   not   the   reaction   to   the   Khan   very   obviously   teasing   him.   “Trust   me,   you’re   saving   a   life   over   here,   not   ending   it.”   

From   the   back   pocket   of   his   jeans   Tony   tugs   out   his   wallet,   out   of   it   comes   a   few   bills.   “For   the   coffee,”   the   five   dollars   are   slid   across   the   counter.   A   couple   more   notes,   both   worth   a   hundred   each,   are   pushed   into   the   tip   jar.   “And   that’s   for   the   cute   bartender   who’s   got   nothing   to   worry   about.   I’ll   have   no   complaints   at   all.”   

[respondedinkind]

It doesn't take much social skill for Khan to recognize the state his customer is in; Probably works a lot, most likely has done nothing besides tinkering with whatever left him this greasy and sweaty for days on end, and this might as well be the first time in a long while for him to leave his home and seek out a place to get coffee at.

What does surprise Khan a little, however, is that the man has actually done that - left his workplace, decided to come up to this particular shop to get himself the heartattack-inducing caffeine shot his body seems to crave for. Guys like him oftentimes have a coffee machine at home and they might as well just get their daily dose of beverage through an IV hooked up to their elbow... but no, his customer is here, which means he must be desperate for one reason or another.

Perhaps his coffee machine is broken...?

He explains himself, the unknown one, elaborates on how he knows very well that his request might raise concern within others, but that he really, really needs his drink, emphasizing on the really here, the caffeine having reached the importance of a drug by now, it seems. Khan blinks once, slow and deliberate, does not interrupt the man, lets him speak out all the things before silence stretches between them once more.

...And only once a second or two pass, Khan moves; His slender fingers grab the biggest cup they have - this establishment is old-fashioned, the cup-size is called large here, easy to remember - and then makes his way over to the coffee machine, operates it, which prompts his bright stare to finally slip away from the one who is in clear need.

... In need of sleep, of something to eat, a shower - but no, Khan does not speak any of those things out loud, just does his job and does not judge.

The coffee machine hisses, fills the cup with freshly brewed liquid - and, once it's done, Khan turns away from the counter, cup in hand, and does something to it on the other side, where another row of counters is placed; Once done he puts the lid onto the cup, then turns back around and places it in between himself and the man - gracefully, his fingers nimble in how they treat the drink.

"Four dollars and seventy-five cents.", is what he says then, gaze returning to where they have rested before, on the dark irises underlined by equally as dark circles painted across tired skin. "---Unfotunately, though, we cannot provide financial compensation, should any health-related issues appear after consuming your beverage of choice. Neither me, personally, nor this establishment. I would ask you to sign a paper, but... we don't actually have any, for the matter."

Yes, Khan offers a lopsided smirk here, a hint of it at least, causing the corner of his mouth to twitch briefly as he pushes the coffee forward a bit with the tip of his index-finger, long and slender.

This is, in fact, not a cup filled to the top with espresso. It is, however, a very flavorful and dark-roasted kind of coffee, naturally containing more caffeine than others, with a dash of syrup made out of real vanilla beans from Madagascar. More expensive than a cup of espresso would be, but... his customer doesn't need to know that.

Nor does he need to know what his drink is made of just yet - he will, maybe, find out about that... or not.

For   the   first   time   in   a   long   while   Tony   is   actually   conscious   of   how   he   looks.   And   he   must   look   like   hell.   Bloodshot   eyes   with   dark   circles   right   under,   hair   greasy   and   sticking   out   in   odd   places   from   constantly   running   his   hands   through   it   and   tugging   at   the   roots.   His   usually   neatly   styled   goatee   now   barely   visible   within   the   stubble   that   he   hadn’t   shaved   in   days.   And   the   state   of   his   clothes . . .   He   probably   looks   like   a   crazy,   homeless   person.   Especially   considering   that   he   was   openly   staring   at   an   incredibly   hot   guy,   jaw   slack,   eyes   wide   and   unblinking.   

So   he   snaps   his   mouth   shut   and   clears   his   throat,   free   hand   scratching   sheepishly   at   the   back   of   his   neck.   “Right . . .   yeah,   sorry.   Could   you   uhm . . . ”   Fuck,   he   even   sounds   like   a   crazy   person,   and   what   he’s   about   to   say   won’t   be   making   the   case   for   the   opposite.   “Could   you   get   the   biggest   cup   you   guys   offer   and   fill   it   with   espresso?”   He   offers   a   smile   with   that,   quick   but   warm.   

“And   before   you   say   anything,   like   a   warning   about   using   too   much   caffeine   or   something,”   Tony   is   quick   to   add,   “I   know   it’s   not   good   for   me,   I   know   the   caffeine   will   mess   with   my   heart   something   big.   But   that’s   exactly   what   I   need   right   now.”   Yeah.   Well,   if   he’s   behaving   like   a   loony,   he   might   as   well   go   for   it.   Maybe   the   next   time   he   comes   to   this   place,   after   having   slept   and   fixed   himself   up,   it   will   be   like   day   and   night   and   the   cute   guy   in   front   of   him   won’t   think   to   put   two   and   two   together.   “I   am   on   the   verge   of   a   breakthrough,   I   need   that   caffeine   to   keep   me   up   for   the   next   couple   of   days.”   

[respondedinkind]

Today seems to be a rather quiet day at the coffee shop; It happens sometimes that Khan is doing more cleaning than serving actual coffee, at least around lunch time. Most customers appear in the early morning or later in the afternoon, once they're returning home from wherever they are during the day - it's not quite that late yet, a few minutes past one o'clock, and Khan hums as he wipes down the counter for the third time today.

He's also already washed all the glasses and refilled various kinds of coffee, checked the syrup bottles, rewrote some of the menus on the wall to make them look a bit more decent...

He's not really expecting many people to come around, but also isn't too surprised when a lonely soul seems to find its way into the shop - that's also not too unusual, all things considered. Someone always manages to come in at the odd-times to keep this establishment alive and running.

That man who enters, though, isn't someone Khan has seen before - not a regular, probably someone who either never really frequents coffee shops... or who simply has never checked this one out before. That's good, perhaps Khan can make him come again for another cup of coffee and turn him into one of the regulars... it keeps his job safe, after all.

So, when the unknown one finally looks up from his phone, meets his gaze, Khan's own bright eyes are already lingering on him, accompanied by a hint of a gentle smile - not too much, not too little. He's never been that kind of guy to be overly enthusiastic, but he knows how to be polite and has been risen with manners in mind.

"Hello.", he replies, voice soft, and feels a hint of amusement rise within him as he drinks in the way that man stares at him here; Khan has seen that kind of expression before, but it can mean a variety of things - whoever he is, he is either impressed or... the opposite. Or maybe he's none of that, which is also a possibility.

A pause follows, and Khan realizes that this man is seemingly waiting for him to speak out the first sentence between them; Most just start to order before Khan can even get a single word in, so he's usually allowing a second to pass - just to make sure.

"What can I get for you?"

While   Tony   could   very   well   fix   the   coffee   machine   in   his   workshop,   it   would   take   far   too   long,   and   he   needed   a   cup   as   soon   as   possible.   And   while   he   could   use   the   one   upstairs   too,   it   was . . .   well,   upstairs   and   he   didn’t   want   to   go   there   while   covered   in   grease   and   dirt.   Taking   a   shower   would   also   mean   taking   too   long,   and   a   cup   of   coffee   was   detrimental   for   him   to   get   within   the   next   hour.   

Which   had   him   making   his   way   down   the   street,   on   foot,   nose   stuck   in   his   phone   until   he   found   a   well   reviewed   coffee   shop   within   the   near   vicinity.   Uncaring   of   the   way   he   looked,   hair   disheveled,   bags   under   his   eyes   from   days   of   staying   awake,   working   on   the   latest   project,   grease   stains   on   his   pants,   hoodie   and   skin.   He’ll   just   pop   in,   order   like   ten   shots   of   espresso   and   be   out   in   a   few   minutes.   

What   he   hadn’t   expected,   as   he   pulled   the   door   open   and   found   his   way   to   the   counter,   and   finally, finally   tore   his   eyes   from   his   phone,   was   to   be   hit   with   a   sight   of   a   tall   glass   of   water   waiting   for   his   order.   “I . . .   uh . . .   Hi,”   Tony   breathes   out,   his   mind   short-circuiting   as   he   takes   in   the   clear   eyes   and   sharp   cheekbones   of   the   barista.   

@respondedinkind