it was one of your off days. it was one of those days when you'd try to distract britt from doing her work (when you'd go, "what exactly is it you do again, britt?" because, really, nobody actually knew what britt did-- aside from disappear for days on end and worry the shit out of you), one of those days when you'd avoid fin altogether. which, in all honesty, was no herculean task. he kept to the kitchen, with actual tangible work to do, and you only popped in and out of the bakery every hour or so. avoiding fin was easy; avoiding ash, not so much.
"oliver," she says, cornering you into a booth seat. she looks you right in the eye, bright blue eyes full of purpose-- eyes just like fin's-- and a smirk on her lips like she knows exactly what you're thinking. you break eye contact to look at her arms-- her tattoos are all business: all geometric shapes, thick lines all in grayscale. "oliver," she says again, softly. "you seem a little jumpy."
you say, "no, i'm okay," but your big gulp gives you away. and it's not just that ash scares you, which she definitely does, it's that she can tell you feel... not right. well, either she can tell or britt told her (and when you think about it, you've been telling britt a lot about how much you miss the way fin holds your hand sometimes even though he totally doesn't seem like the type to, or the the way you sometimes just lounge together on his futon or your bed and he's reading something and you're playing flappy bird).
ash sighs in a way that's more of a production than it should be, sighs out a gust of wind and lets her shoulders visibly rise and fall. "obviously." if you hadn't known better, you'd hardly be able to tell that was sarcasm. ash, after all, said everything in that powdered-sugar-on-strawberries voice. "fin's really torn up, by the way."
the smirk comes back. "can't you tell? his omelettes are too salty lately." you hold back a grimace, but ash notices. "this whole thing," she says, gesturing to you then to the general direction of the kitchen, "is kind of a bummer, don't you think?"
"yeah," you tell her. "kind of."
the next day is one of your off days that you so desperately wish would become an on day. maybe it's what aislinn said about fin being upset. maybe it's what britt texted you this morning ("anyone with a working pair of eyes can tell you're into him. if this is some no homo bullshit, i swear to god, oliver"). maybe it's just the fact that you've had an insatiable urge to kiss him since you called it quits. it's just one of those days when you wake up with your bones shaking and a tingle in your palms, which your dad had always told you was how he felt when he knew he was in love with your mom.
you show up at the bakery, and britt says, "you look like shit," in the most affectionate way anyone could possibly say something like that. she lets you distract her from work, gets silvia to bring you a cup of coffee without any biting remarks, and she sits with you in the same booth ash trapped you in the day before. for a while, britt doesn't say anything, doesn't really have to. you finish your coffee and lay your head on the table mopily for a while, and then finally: "okay, you're done stalling, oliver. get up."
you walk into the kitchen and say, even with odette and tate and omena and ash standing right there, "fin, i'm an idiot. i fucked up. i'm sorry. i hate that it's not you it's me shit but, damn, it's true right now-- you're fucking awesome, and i just got too caught up in my own bullshit to handle it. like i seriously doubt i've ever dated someone as great as you, and i didn't even know i was gay, and i don't even know i'm gay now, but i like you, okay? i like you a lot. and i regret breaking up with you. that was pretty much the dumbest thing i've ever done, and i've done a lot of dumb shit, seriously just ask britt. and i really miss you lying in my bed, and the way you laugh at my jokes, which is awesome because i don't think anyone else has ever seen you laugh--"
you don't notice fin's come closer while you were babbling, not until he does that thing where his eyes go soft and he's not all mr. tall dark and ripping your throat out, and he whispers, "oliver. shut up," and kisses you (even with odette and tate and omena and ash standing right there).
