Again, shout-out to @wheeloffortune-design, @allalrightagain, and @randomoranges for helping me with the French. On that note, warnings: terrible, terrible French.
Check, Please belongs to Ngozi. I’m playing in her sandbox with my own words and ideas.
Bitty is in Annie’s, bent over his textbooks and wondering, not for the first time, why he decided to take French as a language (oh yes, it’s because so many old recipes are written in French, he’s going abroad there to study food history, can’t wait for the summer; half of fall and then winter semester until he goes, but that doesn’t help him now does it) , when he hears someone clear their throat.
“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”
Eric doesn’t even bother lifting up his head. “Sorry, not a girl and not interested.” He’s been on hormones for over a year now, but he’s been cursed with a baby face that’ll probably never change even with the fat distribution. It’s… a good thing in certain circumstances, this is, sadly, not even close to the first time a guy has used a line on him. Sometimes they apologize which in itself sucks (Sorry dude! No homo, right?), but usually they get… upset.
At least they’re in a public place. The most the guy can do is curse him out and then leave.
There is a moment of silence and then, “I uh, I didn’t think you were? It’s just that everywhere else is full.”
Now Eric does look up; he’d come to Annie’s hours ago, and it does indeed look like it’s filled up. He looks at the stranger and immediately has to clamp down on the fluttering in his heart, because tall, tall and broad and handsome and dark-haired and blue-eyed and
“Um!” Bitty squeaks. And even with his deepened voice, it comes out high. “I, y-yeah, you can sit.”
tangentwithtanner
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romaincrisis
theartofmadeline
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