Scomiche One Shots (R)

deja vu pt.1

"Shame, Scotty boy," he heard the high pitched boy muse.

"Can I at least get a name now?" Scott sassed

"Wishful thinking, maybe next time."

He poked and prodded at the small mark in hopes of it somehow fading before his meeting but only ended up making the skin around it an aggravated red. The shirt he had chosen was of no help in covering it and sweating to death in a turtleneck was slightly less favorable in his mind than it being seen. "Kirst?"

"Yeah?" she called to him. He sauntered out of the room, now fully dressed, but with a slight pout adorning his face.

"Can I borrow your concealer?" Scott whined melodramatically, fingers coming to run along the mark. He got a quiet chuckle in response and moments later, she returned with the small tube in her hands. "Can you do it? You're better at it."

"Was he cute?" Kirstie asked as she began applying the makeup

"Beyond. Gorgeous."

"Tall and blond like you, i'm assuming?" she smirked. So what? He had a type.

"No, actually. Short and brunet," Scott smiled at the memory

"Ooh! Name?"

"He wouldn't tell me"

"A mystery boy!" she nearly squealed, finishing covering his neck. Scott just snickered at her excitement and then rushed to grab his belongings so they wouldn't be late.

They got in the car and began the silent drive, save for the background music playing from the stereo. Scott heard his stomach rumble and quickly realized he hadn't eaten at all today or last night– unless he considered the boy he wanted to gorge himself on. "Can we go to Starbucks?"

"We're gonna be late but I'll let you take the fall for it," Kirstie replied, pulling into the nearest Starbucks, not even one mile up. Oh, Los Angeles.

Scott practically ran in to the shop, not even bothering to wait for Kirstie to get out of the car. He stepped in line and whipped his phone out, sending a quick text to their manager that they would be late and it was his (stomach's) fault. As he did so, his head snapped up when a loud crash echoed through the building. 

Two of the baristas had bumped into each other, sending iced coffee onto the small man's apron. He quickly took it off and turned to go grab a new one when Scott felt his breath hitch. 

It was him; the boy who had felt him up, teased him and then wouldn't tell him his name. 

His heart rate sped up at the sight of the brilliant, mysterious boy and continued to rise as he got closer to the front of the line. The boy returned with a new, dry apron and took his place at the register. "I can take the next customer!" he chimed while fixing the register and Scott stepped forward.

"Hello," the blond simpered and his eyes widened at how quickly the boy's head jerked up.

Scott was met with eyes that quickly darkened in an almost deviant way and a smirk that played on the lean boy's face. "Can I help you?" he asked impishly

"Oh I'm sure you can, but I'll have an iced coffee and Kirstie will have a latte"

"Coming right up," he said throwing a playful wink in Scott's direction and scurrying off.

The two stepped aside to wait for their drinks and Scott could feel his palms actively sweating while he checked his phone. He watched as the boy moved around the counter expertly, mixing their drinks in no time. "Scott and Kirstie! Iced coffee and a latte."

Kirstie grabbed hers and turned with a polite wave while the blond lingered. "Can I get a name now, pretty boy? Your name tag went conveniently missing."

"Hmm, you'll have to wait a little longer," he chided effortlessly and then was gone.

When Scott finally peeled his eyes away, he noticed a small note on his cup that read 'Club Z @ 9pm'. He made his way to the car and slammed the door behind him. "That was him."

"The mystery boy?!" Kirstie jumped

"Yes, the mystery boy. Who else?" he rolled his eyes, now in a bad mood from being denied a name twice.

"You were right, he's gorgeous."

"I know."

––––––

The duo was sat in their meeting, coffee cups in hand and ideas being thrown around with their managers. Scott had been moody since the moment they walked in the door, suddenly much preferring to be alone rather than with the people near him.

"I think we need to start advertising within large scale stores. Y'know, reach a broader market," Jonathan, their manager, suggested. 

"No, are you kidding?" Scott snapped "It completely ruins the point of being a small town band if we're plastering our faces everywhere."

"What's wrong with you, sour-puss?" he countered.

"He's got a crush that won't tell him his name," Kirstie chimed.

"Oh, Scotty's got a crush. I see how it is," Jonathan played.

"No I don't!! I just think he's hot!" he rushed

"So...a crush"

"Maybe." he grumbled

––––––

Their meeting ran later than expected and afterwards Scott had gone to the gym to burn off some pent-up energy. Traffic was being a bitch, per usual, and Scott found himself hitting the horn on the steering wheel more than probably needed. 

That boy did something to him. He couldn't pin down what exactly, though. Withholding his name was definitely frustrating, but Scott found himself more aggravated by the way the boy smirked and popped his eyebrows as if this whole thing was just a game. He didn't miss how the brunets head nearly shot up when Scott spoke, like he had recognized his voice and was waiting to hear it. Maybe he did something to that boy, too. 

The coffee cup with the vague invitation had been crushed after he finished the drink and quickly thrown out– after Scott jotted the time and place into his phone reminders. 

With the time already quickly nearing 9pm, Scott was rushing around his apartment in attempt to find clothes for tonight. He had tried on nearly half his closet, throwing the rejected clothes somewhere behind him and continuing to search for the perfect combo. Finally, he decided on a pair of tan jogger pants and a camel colored jumper, paired with white Converse shoes. He styled his hair into the perfect wave, grabbing his car keys and setting out to the club.

Maybe this time he would finally get the boy's name.