Anthony 'Racetrack' Higgins hated coffee. He absolutely despised it. There was not enough sugar, milk, or cream in the world to make it taste anything other than foul. As such, Race always leaned more towards sweeter drinks like hot chocolate or tea. This added an overwhelming amount of irony when he started working at The Banner. It was an old coffee shop in Brooklyn - supposedly it had been around since the late eighteen hundreds. Either way, he was stuck six days a week making a drink he despised in a desperate attempt to pay his way through evening classes and rent. So far, it was going mostly well. Apart from the occasional shitty customer, the job never felt too terrible.
Though, that was in part due to his coworkers. Most of them were people he had known for years. Hell, even his younger brother - Romeo - had worked there one summer. It was a good environment; a friendly one. Though, there were times they could get on is nerves. Particularly with his manager, Jack's ability to lean towards the more dramatic side of things if the occasion arose.
On this particular day, things had been going great. Each order had been simple and fast too make. Each customer had been tolerable and easy to handle. Then a very hot stranger covered in ink had to come and screw it all up. It was just past noon when he walked in. The first thing that Race noticed was the guy was buff as hell. His eyes instantly fell on the guy's arms and their pure muscle. The second thing he noticed was the guy's array of tattoos closely followed by his t-shirt advertising the newly opened tattoo parlour down the road 'Conlon's'. Race wanted to scream. Work was perhaps the worst place to start having Gay Thoughts and he was having many about this stranger. 310
Very much consumed in a gay panic and staring wide eyed at the man, Race missed him approaching the counter along with his entire order. Shit. Though, he didn't ask him to repeat the order. He was too panicked for that. "Can I...uh...get your name?" He could do this. This would be fine and in no way backfire. "And that'll be $3.65"
"Spot." He supplied, winking at Race as he handed over exact change. He very much felt his heart skip a beat at that. Quickly, he began to rush around to make some sort of drink. He started making an expresso. Spot would like an expresso, right? He looked like an expresso kind of guy. And if not...If not then Race would deal with that when it got then. In a state of mild panic, he barely noticed when he accidentally wrote 'Spit' across the cup instead of 'Spot'.
After what felt like an eternity of screwing up, Race finally finished a drink and moved to hand it over. "H-Here's your order." He cringed internally as he stuttered. What was wrong with him today?! What made him so flustered around this one customer? Apart from the fact he was marginally hot. Okay, so maybe he was a lot more than marginally.
When Spot took the drink, Race waited for his reaction with baited breath. He watched as the man slowly took a sip, waiting for a reaction. A look of brief confusion crossed his face before he simply nodded in somewhat satisfaction. "I'll see you around sometime, blondie."
Spot very much kept to his word after that. His appearances in the Banner became almost daily and almost always when Race was working at the counter - as if he was the very reason that he stopped there in first place. Of course, this didn't go unnoticed by his co-workers. Least of all Jack.
"Ah! Young love!" A grin that could only be described as shit-eating stretched out upon Jack's face. "Always so sweet to watch!" Each word was exaggerated as his grin grew larger. He was very much enjoying teasing Race.
"Lay off it, Jackie. We both know you were way worse when you first met Davey." It was Race's turn to smirk at that. It was hard to forget Jack's puppy-like attitude when he'd pined over his boyfriend. It had been equal parts adorable and hilarious. "Besides, it ain't much more than a crush. Me and Spot...We're just good friends."
The look Race received in response was one that proved Jack didn't even remotely believe him. "Keep telling yourself that, Racer, and maybe one day you can actually convince someone it's true." He made a move to ruffle Race's hair as he spoke which Race tragically was not fast enough to avoid. So he endured it with whine.
Yet Jack's words got him thinking. Was it more than a crush? Was he in love with Spot?
It was always around noon when Spot came into The Banner and it had quickly become Race's favourite time of day. The two always ended up chatting aimlessly whilst Race worked away. Whether it was about Spot's latest tattoo or Race's evening classes, conversation between them both flowed with ease. Even the simpler things such as Race's love of horses grew into larger discussions as the two grew closer as 'friends'. Unfortunately for Race, it simply made him more self-aware of his imposing crush on Spot that only grew as the days went by.
Finally, he came to a decision. He needed to put an end to this. He needed to ask Spot Conlon out so he could just get the humiliation of rejection over already.
That wasn't to say Race's plan was a good one. No, it was honestly a kinda crappy and far too cliche one. He was going to write his number on the back of his receipt and pray Spot noticed it before he tossed it away. At least then the rejection would hopefully be over text and at least somewhat ease the blow. It was a dumb plan but then again, Race had never claimed to be smart.
Far too soon for his liking, the day arrived. Things went fine at first with the two chatting away as Race began to make Spot's order. He tried to be as subtle as he could when writing his number on the receipt as he worked away. Unfortunately, he wasn't subtle enough. As soon as the receipt had passed into Spot's hand, he was holding up as if it were a golden ticket. "And what's this, pretty boy?" Well shit.
"I...uh..." Race's mind turned to mush as he tried to form some coherent response. "I finish at 6 and I was wondering if you wanted to go out for drinks?" Oh god. Here it came. Here came the rejection he was dreading. Here came the -
Spot seemed to genuinely smile at that. "Sure. We don't have that many appointments today so I can probably leave early. The parlour should be safe in Hot Shot and Queenie's hands." He chuckled.
Race froze. He'd agreed. Spot Conlon had agreed to go on a date with him. What the fuck. He hadn't prepared for this! "I...uh...Great! That's great! I'll see you then?" He gave a nervous laugh as he handed over Spot's coffee.
Spot took the opportunity to press a swift kiss to Race's cheek. "Of course." He assured before smirking. "Oh, And Race? I actually ordered a mocha frappe. I'm not a big fan of expressos. You're just real cute when you're flustered."
Race wanted to scream.
