a firstprince au for @jafffacakess
ryan's been working for supereats for about three weeks now. prior to that it was called doordarter. who knows what they'll change the name to next. the one thing that's always sure to stay the same though is the guy at 5 s 5th st and his go-to order from taco bell.
except today apparently because the receipt says he lives two doors down now. it's probably a mistake but what does she know. she's definitely not paid enough to care.
the other new thing is that supereats wants proof of delivery to include like an actual person, not just a pic of the door.
"hullo?" asks the white guy who answers, eyes big and kind of bambi-like. he definitely doesn't look or sound like an a. claremont-diaz but okay. she's not here to judge, she's just here to deliver.
"hold this," she says, snapping her gum as she snaps the photo. she's accidentally turned the flash on. it makes the guy look even paler and even more deer-like as he holds the food bag like it might explode. ryan thinks that he's not wrong.
"sorry," he says, "but i didn't order anything." he sees the receipt. he blushes for some reason. "i believe he's two doors down actually."
then he smiles at her so entreatingly she feels like she has no choice but to take the food back.
a. claremont-diaz opens his door moments later. he sees her there with the bag and says, "sweet, thanks!" then grins for his photo op.
"who needs this many mexican pizzas?" linus who works the late shift at taco bell asked ryan at one point. she didn't have a good answer for that, though the bogo was really not a bad deal if you thought about it.
now she can tell linus that the guy definitely doesn't look like he eats that many mexican pizzas at 2am two times a week if not more.
he's also half-mexican, which he's confided to ryan with a guilty expression even though she hadn't asked.
"i mean have you had one of these?"
ryan says that no she has not.
"they're neither mexican nor even really pizza and yet the double misdirect works for them somehow. here, take one."
the guy looks so genuinely excited for her to try it that she does.
ryan doesn't tell linus this part but she secretly thinks that people like doja cat and a. claremont-diaz might be onto something actually.
it happens two more times, the wrong apartment number thing. which means two more awkward photos of the white boy with sad eyes saying there must've been a mistake.
finally ryan says, "hey a. claremont-diaz. you know you keep ordering to the wrong unit, right? the one that's two doors down."
"call me alex," says alex, apparently. he sticks out his hand to shake hers. "so…you haven't been trying henry's first, then. i mean, the guy two doors down."
"oh, no, i absolutely have," says ryan. "he keeps refusing every delivery."
"oh," says alex. he seems at a loss for words suddenly. ryan's interacted with him enough times to know that's not a usual thing for him.
he looks almost crestfallen in the photo she takes for the supereats app.
she feels weirdly disappointed when alex starts ordering to his own apartment again.
"this guy really, really likes his mexican pizzas," linus remarks.
"yeah," says ryan. what she doesn't say is, i think he also really, really likes his neighbor henry.
henry opens the door. "sorry, i didn't—"
"i know you didn't," ryan says. "but i think you're the one who's supposed to deliver it, not me."
henry glances furtively down the hall. "you think so?" he asks in a hushed tone, as if she's suggested something very illegal, which he is in fact very tempted to do.
ryan hands him the bag. "trust me."
she's blocks away from the building when she realizes she forgot to take a photo. well, it's just a job anyway.
alex doesn't order for weeks after that. ryan's dying to know what it means by the time he finally does again a month later. she stops at his door first, then checks the receipt. the number there is two doors down.
she hears voices inside as she approaches.
"baby, you're going to love it, i swear."
"oh, i highly doubt that."
"that's what you said the first time."
"the first time," says henry's voice, "is why i still doubt it now."
"yeah but only because it was cold by the time we—"
"mm, yes, and whose fault was that?"
there's a very long period of not speaking that follows. gross, but also, ryan's happy for them.
"honestly"—henry again, a little breathlessly this time—"i can't believe that's the cuisine you used to lure me over. you said you weren't certain what meat they even use, and whether their cheese is perishable or not."
"i think it is," alex says, "probably."
"hm. good thing i chose you for your discerning cheese palate."
"i take offense to that actually."
"please keep talking dirty to me."
ryan knocks. there's the sound of fumbling, of henry laughing, "alex, stop—i said stop it, you absolute menace—" before the door opens and alex is standing there with a grin and his hair in disarray.
"hey ryan!" he says. then, "baby, come here. you gotta be in the photo."
"i really don't," henry says. he's turned as pink as a diced tomato on the mexican pizzas she hands to them now. those tomatoes are never actually red.
they're already smiling. ryan can't resist a "say cheese" anyway.
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