Calender Dates [Muke]

"Let's be honest, your coffees taste like crap." 

"That's insulting." 

"Good. Now listen to me, he always comes on your shifts, and he looks at you a lot-" 

"We really should be working." As Michael turns back towards the coffee machines, where he had been previously cleaning the nozzles from earlier during the day, Cotton says one more thing. 

"He's been staring at your ass." 

"What?!" He exclaims, whirling around, which was a dangerous thing to do with height like his.  

"It's true." 

"Oi-!"  

"You do have a pretty hot ass." She was looking rather thoughtful. 

"It's very adorable." Anastasia giggles as she slumps across the counter, being mindful of the register and pamphlets scrawled across the surface. "You have a cute patoot." 

He was sure his face had never been so red, nor had be been quite this mortified. "Stop that!" 

"What, don't you appreciate attention from two beautiful girls?" Cotton bats her eyes at him, forcing a pout. 

Michael felt a shiver run down his spine. "N-not from you guys..." He would regret saying that, he was sure, but it just slipped out. "I-I mean! Like, I like it, I am a guy, and you girls are cute an all, but-" 

"Eh?" Anastasia looks at him through somewhat narrowed eyes. "What a perv." 

She was joking, but Michael still gave her a look. 

"You should do something about him." Anastasia says, absently twirling a strand of her hair around her finger.  

"Don't tell me you believe this midget as well." Michael deadpans, reaching up a hand to rub at the back of his neck. "It's ridiculous." 

Anastasia merely shrugged. 

"And I'm not gay." 

"Tell yourself that all you want, princess." Cotton shrugged. "Go ask him out already." 

"Not happening." Michael was sure he was flushing red again, goddammit. He most certainly was not gay - he definitely liked boobs. Definitely. 

Right? 

Right. 

"Stop thinking about boobs." Cotton says. "I know you are." 

Michael jumps, glancing down at her, startled. 

"Oh, you are a pervert after all." Anastasia chuckles. "I knew it." 

Michael sighs gruffly. "You both are too much. I'm not gay, that guy isn't gay, stop with the fantasies. You'll do my head in, one day." 

"Or he will." Cotton mutters under her breathe, making Anastasia giggle. "You're definitely into the D..." 

He rolls his eyes. 

"Well," Cotton lifts her head and squares her shoulders, staring at him unwaveringly. "I'm not serving their table. Are you, Ana?" 

She shakes her head, hiding a flirty smile behind her hands. "Nope." 

"Really." It was exasperated, Michael knew that, but he couldn't help but slump at their antics. "You're really playing this game? What are we, five?" 

Cotton shrugs, before moving around form behind the counter. "Whatever age we may be, the tables still have to be served and I have inventory to sort through, so off you trot."