Work Text:
“Just go back to the coffee shop,” Rocky signed, sharp and annoyed. They were tucked into the couch of their shared apartment, a nature documentary they’ve both seen at least 5 times playing as Grace graded assignments on the floor in front of the coffee table.
“But when? Should I go back tomorrow? That’s probably too soon, right? What if he thinks I’m a stalker? Or what if he’s not even there?” He knew he was overthinking this. People just go to coffee shops all the time. But he couldn’t stop thinking about Simon. His brain was asking questions he definitely didn’t have the right to ask– Why didn’t he know who James Bond is? Why was he so unaffected by someone literally throwing hot coffee all over him? Were the scars on his face deep enough to affect his nerves, and he was actually burned and just didn’t feel it? Did Grace leave a man in need of medical attention alone because he got distracted by his pretty eyes and was so embarrassed he ran away?
Rocky groans, obviously fed up by this conversation. He reaches out and grabs the remote, pausing the TV. An okapi remains lit up the screen, and if Grace was prone to anthropomorphism, he’d say it looks disappointed in him.
“Why are you so worried about this? It’s just a guy.”
It’s a valid question. It’s, in all honesty, a good question. It’s also one Grace doesn’t really have a good answer to. He could wax poetic about Simon’s eyes, the warm brown that hides a kindness he wants to get to know. He could tell Rocky that when he laughed he wanted to hear the sound for the rest of his days. He could ramble on about the way he could see his biceps clench through his long sleeve shirt as he made Grace’s drink.
He could. But that would be freaking insane, because he had spoken to him for less than ten minutes and didn’t even know the man’s last name.
“This is so embarrassing,” Grace mumbles under his breath, burying his head in his hands.
Rocky laughs, the sound melodic and high-pitched. He hates the way his brain immediately compares it to the sound Simon made, an antithesis to the low rumble that Grace barely heard.
He jerks his head up, glaring at his friend. “This is not funny! I am a grown man! With a doctorate degree! Why am I acting like this?”
Rocky shakes his head, grinning at him. “Grace has a crush! Grace has a crush!” He signs, whistling along the same tune that his eighth graders sing to make fun of each other.
“This is cruel and unusual punishment,” he laments, leaning against the couch and hoping it absorbs him. The chances every single one of his atoms can quantum tunnel through the cushions are low, but theoretically, never zero.
His eyes are closed, but he feels Rocky move off the couch. The weight of his friend plastered against him doesn’t startle him anymore, as it’s a position they’ve assumed many times; when Rocky misses Adrian, when Grace gets another rejection from another scientific journal, when everything just gets a little bit too heavy.
Rocky pokes him in the forehead, clicking his tongue to get his attention. When he opens his eyes, Rocky is draped against his side, feet on the coffee table. “Grace is being dramatic,” they say, hazel eyes bright with mirth.
Grace pouts, leaning his head against his friend’s. “Rocky is being mean,” he says, and he feels Rocky’s laugh as much as he hears it, their shoulders shaking against him.
They sit together, Rocky humming a soft tune as they relax in each other’s presence. He takes a second rejoice that they found each other, a safe space that he didn’t think he’d ever find in another person.
“Go back to the coffee shop tomorrow. It’s not weird to drink coffee everyday,” Rocky says, his movements peaceful and calm. “You need more friends, anyway.”
They stand up, moving towards their bedroom. Grace doesn’t even know what time it is, but it must be later than he should be up if Rocky’s already going to bed.
“You aren’t worried I’ll replace you?” Grace calls, watching his friend claw open his bedroom door.
Rocky flips him off, sticking his tongue out. “You couldn’t even if you tried.”
He had no reason to go to Eden again. It was a Saturday, there wasn’t a school day that he’d had to get up early for. He didn’t need coffee.
And yet, at 4 pm, he was standing outside the small shop, wrapping his cardigan around himself. He’d tried to convince Rocky to join him, but they’d laughed in his face, told him he’s brave (always inspirational, his best friend), then gone back into his room to facetime Adrian.
He patted his hair down, hoping it looked as neat as possible. He’d tried to smooth it out before leaving, but he’d walked here, and he seriously doubted the wind did him any favors. He pushed his glasses up onto his face, taking a deep breath. It was just a coffee shop. Simon was just a guy. A pretty, interesting, handsome guy that Grace wanted to know. Desperately. No biggie.
He pulls the door open, the soft music playing in the shop washing over him. There’s no one behind the counter, so he stands at the register, grabbing a menu. As he holds it, he realizes he never actually read it last time, apparently too caught up with the man behind the counter to be literate. He looks it over, examining the few specialty options with an intensity he doesn’t quite understand seeing as he gets the same thing every time he gets coffee.
“You actually came back?”
“Holy moly!” Grace jumps, banging his knee on the counter in front of him.
Simon is standing in front of him, looking surprised. Grace grabs at his chest, bracing one hand on the counter. His heart is pounding so loud he almost wonders if the man in front of him can hear it.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare- wait, holy moly?” Simon’s eyebrows are raised, and he looks skeptical. “Did you just say holy moly?”
“I- You startled me!”
Simon smirks, tilting his head. His hair is half pulled back into a bun, but a few stray strands are hanging in his face, over the light grey headband he has on. The sun outside the window lights up his face, highlighting his cheekbones. His eyes are warm and golden in the light, and he’s beautiful. Grace is so, so screwed.
“Do you think I’m that scary?” Simon asks, head tilted down, looking at Grace through his eyelashes. Heat builds in Grace’s cheeks, spreading down his neck into his chest. He hopes his face hasn’t turned too red. He might be frozen.
Simon’s eyes widen, and he takes a step back, biting his lip. Grace’s eyes follow the movement, catching on the scar that cuts into his top lip. He wants to know where it came from. And maybe, some other less innocent things.
“Sorry, that was weird. I shouldn’t have,” he stops, pulling at the skin on his fingers. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, no! It’s okay. It was funny! I just- froze. For some unrelated reason.” It’s a horrible excuse. Worse than some of the lies he’s heard from his eighth graders. He hopes Simon doesn’t call him on it.
“If you’re sure,” Simon says slowly, and Grace nods rapidly.
“I’m sure. So sure!”
Simon smiles again, softly, almost like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. It’s adorable, until Grace wonders if he’s not used to smiling at all, and doesn’t quite know if it’s safe to do it. It’s a sad thought, and he hates that it doesn’t entirely feel wrong.
Simon leans on the counter, the muscles of his arms tensing as he leans. Grace watches the motions, noticing his right arm seems much larger than his left. Curiosity gnaws at him, and questions build up on his tongue. Curse his indescribable need to know everything at all times.
“Did you come back just for coffee, or?” Simon questions, his low voice pulling Grace back into the conversation at hand.
“Yes and no,” He says, running his hand through his hair. He stops halfway through, remembering all the work he put into making sure it was in place. He tries to pat it back into place inconspicuously, probably failing at both- the inconspicuous and the patting back into place.
“I was, uh. I was hoping to talk with you, I guess. Does that sound stupid? It probably does. Rocky is always telling me I speak before I think. I should’ve just said coffee.” He glances back down at the menu, toying with the idea of getting something other than the same thing he always gets.
“What’s your favorite drink here? Or are you just a black coffee guy? You do sort of give off that vibe.”
When he looks up, Simon hasn’t moved, but his eyebrows are raised high, brown eyes wide.
“That was a lot.”
Grace laughs, sheepish. “Yeah, sorry. I have a tendency to ramble anytime I’m not talking to a bunch of thirteen year olds.”
Simon shakes his head, leaning forward. “No, it’s okay. I just gotta catch up to you,” he says simply, as if that isn’t the sweetest thing Grace has ever heard in his life. He’s spent so much of his life feeling like he’s going a different speed than everyone else, always trying to slow down or speed up. The idea that someone wants to meet him where he is… Well. It’s new.
Simon blushes, the tips of his ears turning red. It softens the lines of his face, and Grace wants to reach out and trace the lines of his jaw, just to know what it feels like. He thinks he might be going crazy.
“Actually,” Simon pauses, mumbling under his breath. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this,” he says, and Grace leans closer, wanting to catch every word.
“I hate black coffee. For the longest time I thought coffee was gross, cause we weren’t allowed to use sugar where I’m from.” His eyes grow guarded, darker. Grace’s brain makes a note to find out more about that. In a kind, respectful, way.
“It wasn’t until recently that I tried all the different syrups and sauces, and-” He leans closer, whispering. “I use so much mocha sauce I might as well be drinking hot chocolate.”
His whole face is red now, and Grace smiles, trying not to laugh.
“That might be the cutest thing I’ve ever heard,” He blurts, and then smacks his hand over his mouth.
“Sorry! I don’t know what is wrong with me today, I just cannot behave like a normal person,” he says, as if he ever does. He’s half expecting Simon to punch him, but when he looks up, Simon is smiling, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.
“You’re definitely the only person in the world who’s ever thought that about me,” Simon says, laughing softly.
He doubts that, heavily. But Simon says it with such a finality that he doesn’t think an argument about it would go anywhere. He tucks the thought away, hoping maybe someday he can convince the man in front of him otherwise.
There’s some high-top chairs at the counter, and Grace sets his laptop bag down, tilting his head towards the chair. “Do you mind if I sit here? I don’t want to be like, all up in your business.”
Simon shakes his head, tapping at something on the register in front of him. “Go ahead, I don’t mind.”
He says it casually, but Grace still feels heat rise up on his cheeks. He sits down, pulling some tests that need to be graded and his laptop out of his bag. He gets to work on grading, hoping this is a normal person thing to be doing. He’s just finished the first test when Simon coughs awkwardly, as if he’s trying to get his attention.
He looks up, and is surprised to see a large cold brew (with just the right amount of cream by the looks of it), sitting in front of him, along with a chocolate chip muffin.
“Is-is this for me?”
Simon looks around the empty coffee shop before looking back at him. “I’m not sure who else it would be for.”
“But I didn’t order anything? And I didn’t pay! Let me pay, at least.”
Simon shakes his head earnestly. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Simon, c’mon. This can’t be good for business.”
Simon looks at him, pushes the drink and muffin towards him. “You came back. That’s payment enough.”
Grace is suddenly glad he didn’t take a drink yet, because he’s certain he would’ve choked and died, with how abruptly he inhales. This man might actually be the death of him.
“That’s- Wow. Okay. Of course I did! I said I would.”
The man in front of him shrugs, and Grace notices he’s pulling at the skin of his fingers again. It’s always the fingers on his left hand. He wonders if it has something to do with the size difference in his arms.
“Yeah, well. I don’t really know why you did. I can’t imagine the coffee is that good.”
Grace isn’t necessarily a brave man. If anything, he’s always considered himself to be a bit of a coward. But he wants to be brave, just this once.
“Can I get your number?” He says quickly, before he can talk himself out of it. His heart is beating so fast he thinks it might just stop. He hopes Rocky has something nice to say at his funeral.
Simon is still in front of him, deep brown eyes wide and shocked. He stares at Grace for a second, before he takes a step backwards, looking skeptical.
“Why?”
Out of all the responses he was expecting, “Why?” was not a result he had prepared for. If Simon had laughed at him, yelled at him, kicked him out, he wouldn’t have been surprised. If Simon had kindly turned him down, he would have understood. But why? That he was not ready for.
“I- Why?”
Simon nods, looking around like he’s looking for something to happen. He looks scared, almost. Grace doesn’t understand, but he certainly can’t stand for that.
“Hey. Simon. There’s no pressure. I just think you’re really cool, and I’d love to get to know you more. But really, that’s it. I can leave and never come back, if that’s what you want.” Gosh, he hopes that’s not what he wants.
Simon shakes his head rapidly, and Grace lets out a sigh of relief. “Okay, thank goodness. I was really hoping that wasn’t what you wanted. Not that it wouldn’t have been fine, if that’s what you wanted! Whatever you’re most comfortable with is fine. Better than fine! I just wasn't lying when I said I think you’re really cool, and I’d hate to ruin whatever this could be because I don’t know when to shut up. Not that this has to be anything, of course!”
“Grace.”
“I would never want to force you into anything you don’t want. Obviously. I just don’t have that many friends, and I only really-”
“Grace!”
“-talk to thirteen year olds, so I’m not really sure how to make friends? That sounds sad, doesn’t it? Fudge, I’m really mucking this all up-”
“Ryland!”
He freezes, hands in the air in the middle of whatever dumb gesture he was making. He really likes the way Simon says his name, lingering on the first syllable.
Simon’s smiling again, this time full and bright, showing all his teeth. Grace’s eyes linger on his canines– are they sharper than most peoples? Is he seeing things?
“I’ll give you my number, only if you promise to shut up.”
Grace nods rapidly, miming zipping his lips and throwing away the key. It makes Simon laugh– actually laugh. The sound is loud, slightly clumsy, as if he doesn’t quite feel comfortable doing it. It’s the most amazing sound Grace thinks he’s ever heard.
He opens up his contacts, hands Simon his phone. He watches as the man settles the phone in his left hand, typing in a number with his right. When he hands the phone back, their fingers graze each other, and Grace is surprised to feel his hands are just as warm as yesterday when they shook hands. Maybe he runs warm? It’s a nice thought, as he’s always freezing, wrapped up in as many layers as possible.
“I’ll text you?” Grace asks, smiling when Simon nods.
“Okay, awesome!” He packs up his bag, grabbing the coffee and the muffin. He realizes halfway through that leaving now makes it very obvious he really did only come to talk to Simon, but he’s made a fool of himself so much during this interaction that he figures it really can’t get worse.
He stops when he’s all packed up, looking at Simon. The man is smiling softly; one could almost say fondly, if they were one for wishful thinking.
He goes to speak, but Simon thankfully starts before he does, because he has no clue what he would’ve said. “See you later, Ryland.”
He lets himself nod, rapidly, excitedly. It reminds him of Rocky. “See you, Simon!” He pushes out the door of the shop, a smile glued onto his face. He can’t wait to tell Rocky about how well this went.