Big Book Of Smornby One Shots

Meet Me At The Coffee Shop (N)

TW: None (yet) Chapter 2 is NSFW

~Chapter One: I Didn't Quite Catch Your Name

Ever since he was a little kid, Alex Smith had dreamt about being a baker. He liked the idea of serving people his own recipes, cooked and prepared by himself for others to enjoy.

Of course, people move away from their dreams; those who wanted to become athletes stop going to the gym, those wanting to be rich accepting brutal reality.

He'd owned his bakery for two years, eleven months, three hundred and sixty three days so far. Everyday feels just as wonderful as the last, but obviously the job wasn't everything he had expected it to be.

His customers were normally quiet folk considering his cafe was on the outskirts of the bustling town.

He has many regulars, chirpy old ladies with breathy laughs who liked to sit by the window and watch the world pass by.

For a moment, he wonders where the rest of his school friends have ended up.

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Hm?" Smith hums in return, momentarily forgetting his place behind the counter.

"I would like to buy some of your pastries."

"Oh! Yes, apologies, I was in a world of my own for a moment there," Smith chuckles, finally smiling at the customer.

He was tall, only about an inch or so smaller than Smith himself, with ice blue eyes and short black hair. He was a muscled, well kept man and Smith couldn't help but notice that the man had heavy eye make up on. Nothing wrong with it of course, but it seemed to have been applied professionally.

"So you actually did go on to make your shitty pastries," the man says, leaning on the counter and gazing around the room, "You were adamant that you could set up your own business ever since primary school."

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch your name," Smith murmurs, shifting away from the cash register to the open kitchenette area.

"Ross, y'know, Ross Hornby? We went to school together," Ross says, Smith noticing he seems slightly down heartened. "We were good friends until I moved into the city for my apprenticeship."

"Oh yeah! Remember that time we bunked P.E. and hid in the computer class to play those cheesey computer games?" Smith smiles, dusting the work surface with flour. "So what do you do now then, mate?"

"I'm a professional burlesque dancer," Ross says, smirking at Smith's confused stare, "I did work further up north, moving from place to place because people just offered more and more money if I worked with them, then I moved out here. The big club in the town centre offered me a paycheck with five zeros."

"Doing well then," Smith quips, kneading the dough and avoiding Ross' gaze. "Didn't think you'd sell your body like that though."

"I didn't think you'd sell your shitty pastries and here we both are," Ross replies, grinning wildly at the baker. "I remember when there was a fire drill because you burnt some chocolate in the microwave."

"My cooking foolery days are over, I would have had this business running for three years in two days time," Smith laughs, shaping the dough and putting it in the small oven.

Ross smiles at him from his place over the counter, watching Smith walk around the tiled area and clean up any mess he had left behind. Smith winds up his egg timer and sets it beside the cash register, chuckling weakly and looking back at Ross.