small town family ice cream shop rivals- scott barringer x reader
warnings: pure fluff, pwp, some vulgar banter and innuendos, mentions of sex, allusions to finding the other person sexually attractive
"mint chocolate chip with sprinkles on a cone!" you hold your arm to hand out the final cone of the day to a tween with peculiar taste for her age, you thought. but working at your family ice cream shop has taught you people have strange preferences when it comes to flavors, no matter what the age.
it was no secret that your family had the best ice cream in your small town, even in the winter months, people would line up in jackets and parkas to get pints to take home to eat in the comfort of the heat or fireplace. you had fifty flavors consistently, and seasonal flavors that would rotate, which you especially liked the fall ones. pumpkin marshmallow had become a favorite for you and you made your father bring it back every year.
you worked there when you came home from college or when you arrived back for holidays, always eager to try the new creations your parents had whipped up in the back. this summer, they had a rotation of apricot watermelon sorbet, berry shortcake, and mango coconut.
throughout these years, there really had been no competition with your shop, sure a baskin robbins, or some chain would come in, but it never compared to the creativity and quality your family put out.
until the barringer family moved in and built theirs. your father wasn't concerned at first, said it would just be another try and fail. but as time went on, the conversations as you came home seemed a little more tense when it came to business. you heard it when you were working the stand last year, during a fall holiday, as you handed out a banana cream pie in a cup to a regular.
"you know, it seems like folks are really taking a liking to that barringer shop." you felt your eyes widen. he continued poking around his ice cream, paying no mind to you. "i don't think it's all that, they don't do fun flavors like y'all. i think it's just the appeal of the soft serve."
and that was that. your father was never a fan of putting a soft serve machine in the shop, you asked him why, specifically after that.
"they can't think we're stooping to their level, to try and compete. what we had always worked. i'm not investing more. soft serve will eventually lose it's touch." he said firmly, his eyes never leaving his newspaper that morning, dismissing you- or the conversation. you weren't sure which, but most likely both.
this summer, you were getting fed up. it's not as if you didn't have customers, but you could see the change in business. so what if you went there yourself, saw what all this shit was about? a hot saturday, soft serve didn't sound that bad, so you threw on a tank top and shorts, and biked down to their store.
your eyes scanned the building. it was cute, you had to give them that. pastels, cute calligraphy that spelled out "barringer ice cream", basic but your family wasn't more creative either. you threw your bike into a rack, walking to the sliding window.
a blonde boy leans his head out, to start to ask you, what you assume is what you wanted, before narrowing his eyes.
"aren't you the girl from the other shop?"
you fold your arms over your chest. "well, what a hello. i hope you don't greet all your customers like this, or i'd be real confused why you have such positive reviews."
"i can assume you would piece two and two together and figure out that's not the case, since we took half your customer base."
you bite your tongue, because this wasn't what you came here for. you can feel your cheeks getting red with irritation, he was truly spiking your blood levels.
"god forbid i wanted some soft serve on my day off. can you accomplish that before a line starts forming behind me and they need to be rerouted to my store? wouldn't want you to lose precious business."
he glares at you. "what flavor. chocolate, vanilla, or swirl?" he points to the machine, to what you can assume is the flavors.
"oh gee, can i get a taste of the chocolate?" you feel a smirk creeping on to your face.
"you know what fucking chocolate tastes like."
"but it's soft serve..." you trail off, realizing you don't know his name yet. "mr. barringer? i just realized i don't have your formal name. boy, how rude. i never introduced myself either." you offer a hand, throwing your name, watching as he clearly debated his options.
"scott." he snips at you.
"oh good. well, scott, i've never had chocolate soft serve. i would love to try." a lie. you had. plenty of times. you cast a look behind you, only a few people were lingering, so you weren't too concerned.
he huffs a breath, before handing you a wooden spoon with a dab of chocolate ice cream. you place it into your mouth, wrapping your lips fully around the spoon, making a big show of sucking every last drop of it off.
"wow, that's incredible. let me get a taste of the vanilla scotty." you grin.
"don't call me that. i'm not giving you a sample of the vanilla."
"well shit, why not? i have to make sure it's better than the chocolate."
he reluctantly hands you a new spoon, as you lean over the counter, repeating the same motions as before. "wow, that's truly amazing. i can't imagine what that would be like... swirled." you hold back a laugh, seeing his face twist into an even deeper glare than you thought was humanly possible.
"get out of here before i call the cops."
"someone doesn't like having fun. i'll be sure to recommend you to my favorite customers. see you soon scotty!" you throw a spoon into the window at him, hopping onto your bike back home.
at the end of june, your father happily announced the stand was asked to have a setup at the towns fourth of july fair that year, thrilled about how much business it would bring. he was busy taking inventory and your mother began making a list of the most popular flavors the week before, to figure out what to bring while you worked the shop. you looked down, putting cash into the drawer, when you heard a strangely familiar voice.
"gee, i would love to try a seasonal flavor. what do you recommend?" your head snaps up, meeting the blue eyes of scott barringer. you cock your head at him.
"is that what truly brings you here? let me know if you're allergic to coconut. i definitely won't give you the mango coconut."
"partly. also wanted to spread the joy that both our families are working this fourth of july fair, and just how excited i am." it was his turn to give you that devilish grin.
"and what, you're gonna bring that huge ass soft serve machine?" you lean over the window, staring down at him.
"we just might. now, i'm not allergic to coconut, so get me two scoops of that on a cone. waffle."
you roll your eyes, moving towards the tin to scoop him the flavor. this was going to be a long fucking summer.
especially when you got a text the day before the fair, one you immediately identified as scott based on the tone of the text.
"hope you're ready to get your ass ate tomorrow."
you made a face, because he definitely could've worded that better. or added something to make it not sound the way it did. it was actually so bad, you couldn't even move past it to banter back.
"can you rephrase that please? i'm not into ass eating."
you scrunch your nose, because of course he doesn't rephrase it, just makes a dirty comment. and of course it makes you think of him actually eating your ass, which has you shaking your head to get the thought out as soon as possible.
your parents are an organized mess the next morning, checking and double checking things that have already been confirmed to be there, because they're so stressed about this imaginary competition they've set up in their heads against the barringer family. you can't really imagine that scotts' family cares that much, but your father built his reputation on this store, so you shrug it off.
the heat is intense as you help them set up, sweat trickling down your forehead, soaking your white tank top, making your shorts stick to your legs. your parents mutter something to you about going to get more dry ice from the store, and to make sure everything in the stand sets up okay. you sigh, fixing the cart the ice cream is situated in. you dig around in the bag to find a spoon, before digging into double chocolate brownie and taking a scoop for yourself.
"can't even wait 'till business starts?"
scott appears in front of you, eyeing you eating the ice cream. he's wearing a light t shirt, one that has similarly been soaked from sweat, and athletic shorts. you don't miss how his eyes scan you, lingering on your breasts, making you aware your bra is visible.
"i'm hungry. it's probably not a good look that a barringer keeps showing up to the opposing business, gonna make everyone think you don't like your own product."
"don't think they would assume that if i walk away with nothing."
you inhale deeply, regulating your next string of words. "what do you want scott."
"oh nothing. just walking the setups, happened to see you. wanted to see how it was going. i'll be working today if you want to come by. you know, see how much better we're doing."
"you gonna give me samples this time, or you gonna be a dipshit about it?" you bite back, crossing your arms. his eyes flicker back down to your breasts, puffed up due to your posture. you open your mouth to acknowledge it, but shut it. you hated how much you actually liked seeing him look at you, a different kind of heat flushed your cheeks. you thanked the heat for already reddening your face so he couldn't tell.
"i might give you samples. if you're being good." he meets your eyes, you resisting the urge to ask him what that means, even though you know it's an innuendo.
"looks like you can forget it then." you look back down to your setup, avoiding his eyes.
"your loss ice princess."
as the day went on, you should have predicted that when it was this hot, people would try their luck and get ice cream twice in one day. once at your stand, another at scotts. or vice versa, since some would show up with soft serve, still running down their fingers, only some realizing what they were doing, and trying to finish it before you saw them. you begged your parents to be done by the time the fireworks were about to start, your back was sore, the sweat from the day had dried and soaked into every piece of clothing, every crevice. you felt disgusting.
you leaned back against a tall tree, staring at the sky, waiting for the first launch.
"you've had better days."
you don't even have to turn around. "scott, take your shit somewhere else. otherwise, i'll throw my sweat soaked shirt on you."
"and leave you in a bra? i'd take it. i can see it now," he holds his hands in an arc in front of his eyes. "rivals have heated, passionate sex despite how obnoxious he thinks she is." he smirks at you as you roll your eyes. "wow what a headline. i should work for the news instead, don't you think?"
"stop flirting with me." you grumble.
"why? too irresistible for you? please, tell me. mango coconut ice cream or me."
"you have an ego that doesn't match your looks."
"not what i've been told."
you push up from under the tree, to stand and face scott. you hardly meet his height. he peers down at you, his blue eyes glinting with the fair lights in the distance, his behavior making you feel like you just rode one of those poorly put together rides your mayor insists on having every year.
you don't know if you should speak, or let him, really. you're both awkwardly staring at each other, the irritation fading out of your features as he simply blinks at you, long and slow. his blonde hair is messy from the long day, his t shirt he'd had on earlier was still damp, pressed to his chest.
"i better get going." your voice comes out raw, strangled, like it was forced to leave your mouth, as if you didn't truly mean it. maybe you didn't, you hadn't seen the fireworks yet. but you felt weird, this felt weird. he doesn't stop watching you.
since the fourth of july fair, your run ins with scott had been limited. a passing at the grocery store, one time at the docks. it was approaching the end of july, your return to college nearing in august. it wasn't like you felt yourself dying to see him, but he did leave an agitating hole in your mind, one that screamed 'irritating moron' but something else along with it you didn't really want to name. you refused to put yourself in his line of fire though, to put yourself out there and make yourself seem what one could call, needy. so instead, you chose to recluse yourself in work or home.
"sprinkles please. the chocolate ones." an elderly woman squints at you as you mindlessly scoop her butter pecan ice cream, silently thinking about how disgusting that sounds, but you add the sprinkles nonetheless. you hand it to her, waving her off, and go back to drawing on a napkin with pen.
"you think the peanut butter fudge ice cream is good?"
you raise your head, meeting the blue eyes of scott barringer.
a soft smile graces your features, despite the confusion and lingering irritation he brings along with it. "i'd say it's one of my favorites."
"oh well in that case, two scoops for me. cup please." you oblige, scooping it into a cup and handing it to him. he nods at the benches outside your shop. "wanna join me? i think it would be time for your lunch break right about now, hm? our store needs some more business right now anyways."
running a tongue along your teeth, you hold back a remark and nod, flipping around a closed sign on the window, and heading out the side door. sitting across from him, you stare at him, waiting for him to say what he came here for. you had a feeling it wasn't to try a new flavor from your parents business.
"i've been thinking." he says, bringing a spoonful to his mouth, running his tongue along the sides. you watch, aware of what he's doing, but you can't help yourself. "this whole, rival thing, truly exhausting, isn't it?"
"i didn't know this was a formal rival relationship."
"oh, c'mon." he waves, "you act like we're the jets and the sharks."
you make a face. "you know west side story?"
he ignores you. "we could be romeo and juliet."
you roll your eyes. "this is cheesy."
"let me take you on a date." he folds his arms across the table, cocking his head at you.
you grit your teeth. asshole. "fine."
he claps his hands loudly, making you jump. scott leans in closer, to the point where you could smell his cologne, his breath that now smelled like peanut butter. "y'gonna let me kiss you?"
"i'm getting back to work."
he stands, matching your movements. "i'll take it as a yes. wear a sundress." he winks at you, the suggestion making you blush. "have a good rest of your day... sweetheart."
divider by @/chateaubarnes
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