Coffee Shop AU Oneshot - I'm Oliver You, Tom Riddle
I'll admit, Tom is a little OOC (out of character) in this, but like, I really wanted to write him with a raging boner for Oliver :/ just suffer through it, I guess,,,
Also I'm on mobile and dont know how to make a "Read More" thing so
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Darkly stained hardwood floors met emerald green counters, topped with clean, if slightly cluttered, darker-stained butcher block countertops; a silver register sat at one end of the counter space, an empty fish bowl filled with various pens of varying degrees of frilliness directly beside it; two-thirds of the counterspace was behind lightly frosted glass, which quite untastefully hid all of the various coffee making and blending apparatuses; round tables of a matching register-silver sat around the space, with cozy chairs of varying shades of green pushed in or hastily shoved aside were small comforts lying around the little caffe. Three of the walls of the caffe, the left, the right, and the entry wall, were the same shade of emerald green as the counters - Tom painted them all at the same time himself, while the back wall was tastefully and painstakingly painted various greys to sort of give more depth to the actual brickwork, but not leave it the natural red brick it was before. Tom still wasnt entirely happy with the paint on the brick, even today, but continually added more and more small touches here and there. A bright pink handprint smacked the top of the bricks, small spatters of pink on the stark white ceiling resulting from it, while a more carefully placed yellow print stood beside it. Anne had helped him paint and stain the caffe before she actually began working there, and had seen it fit to climb on top of the countertops, hand nearly dripping in pink paint, before she jumped - and fell off the countertop soon after as a result of her recklessness - and smacked her hand as high as she could. The yellow one came from him; he stood on the countertop, painted his hand, and pressed it firmly as high as he could.
Tom loved the sight of it. Every morning, he came in, started up a brew, had his morning cuppa - black, no sugar - and then was immediately greeted with his most hated thing: customers.
Usually, however, the early morning crowd wasnt too terribly awful, but there were exceptions to every rule. Especially when it came to, Tom shuddered, youngsters.
But he digressed.
It was drab and dreary that momentous day. Outside, it was raining fairly well, making the air outside pleasantly cool and delightfully scented. The streets had a mist, and Tom wanted nothing more than to go out and just breathe the rainy air in. Rainy weather had to be his most favourite type of weather.
But unfortunately, people enjoyed a hot, freshly made beverage on a rainy day, and that meant that his cafe would be busy. Just as it was now.
Thankfully, he wasnt dealing with the customers today, that was Anne's job on Wednesdays. All he had to do was work behind the counter, make the drinks, and call out the names or whatever the customers insisted on being called.
And, occassionally, when Anne needed a break, interact with the customers. Tom nearly shuddered at the vague thought.
"Tom!" Anne called. "I need 7 hot chocolates, two with two pumps of vanilla, whole milk, one of those with with whipped cream, cinnamon lightly dusted on top, one with 4 pumps of your Hot Unicorn Blood Elixir, coconut milk instead, three made with soy milk, and one with almond."
Anne was a very near and dear working companion of his. She was dark skinned, with very large breasts, a sweet face, and someone who enjoyed wearing clothing that was much too small for her. Even her uniform was too small, which shouldn't be as Tom had given her clothing that had to have been several sizes too large; it was all he had on hand at the moment. Anne must have known a tailor, or had done them herself.
"We should have never offered drink customization, Anne." Tom griped.
He made the hot chocolates, as asked for, and called out, "Ridiculous hot chocolate order for 7."
Six giggling girls came up and grabbed their order, one taking two cups, before returning to their table and awaiting friend.
Business slowed for a moment soon after that, but they werent ever completely devoid of customers in the queue.
And then, it was time for Anne's break.
Oh, how Tom dreaded Anne's break! Now he had to both take orders and make them.
Oh well, he supposed, time to get to work.
Taking the second customers order, the bell above the door rang as someone new entered, or as a customer was leaving. Tom glanced up, saw that it was someone coming in, and greeted him, "Good morning, welcome to the Half-Life Caffe. I'll be with you in just a moment."
And of course, the customer he was currently helping ordered a ridiculous hot beverage, but this time, it was completely asinine; a soy latte, no soy. They're "allergic to soy", as they have so far claimed, but enjoyed the way a soy-free soy latte tasted.
Tom tried his very best to not roll his eyes or groan at this persons incompetence.
It was the single most difficult thing he had ever done. He deserved a solid gold plaque for his deed. Or at the very least an official day of recognition. Perhaps a national holiday, The Day Tom Marvolo Riddle Didnt Roll His Eyes or Make Any Dissenting Noise at the Customers Stupidity.
It had a very nice ring to it, Tom thought.
And now, it was the new customer's turn to order.
"How can I help you this fine, if wet, morning?" And that's when Tom looked up, and met his gorgeous ocean blue eyes. And the rest of his beautiful face, for that matter.
Tom instantly took back what he had previously thought. Not openly gawking at this simply, perfectly stunning individual was the single most difficult thing he had ever done.
The customer was distinctly male, wild, curly blond hair falling every which way seemingly perfectly, even if it was dripping water onto his clothes, his cheeks and nose tinged a slight pink from the nippy air outside, giving him a perpetual blush. He parted his perfectly kissable lips and flashed a smile, all perfectly straight, white teeth, and oh! Then he spoke!
"Actually, I'm not quite sure what I want quite yet. I've never been here before." The stranger told him. His voice was like the sweetest music Tom had ever heard, lilted and bright and airy.
"May I recommend our unique Unicorn Blood Elixir? I invented it myself, and it's only available while I work." How Tom had managed to say that without stuttering was beyond him.
"Oh, that sounds lovely! I'll have the largest size you have, please! I'm not planning on going anywhere, if that makes a difference?" He smiled once again, and Tom very nearly dropped the tall ceramic mug he had just grabbed.
"Can I get a name for your order?" Tom cleared his throat, grabbing an Expo marker from the flowery fish bowl next to the register, and focused his entire will on writing this persons name.
"Oliver," he giggled.
Tom discreetly wiped his mistake away, and god he felt his cheeks begin to warm, how embarrassing.
"£6.50 please."
Money was exchanged, Oliver waved his farewell, and took a seat in the corner, pulling his phone out of his thigh bag and smiling down at whatever was on the screen.
Tom had a not-so-subtle hope it wasnt his boyfriend.
Or girlfriend, Tom wasnt one to judge, but he didnt look the type to have a girlfriend, if his fluffy, gaudy yellow sweater, sinfully tight black skinny jeans, shiny silver mid calf heeled boots, and dark leather thigh bag was anything to go by.
But, who knew, maybe she dressed him?
Tom returned to work, just as Anne came back in. Tom turned to glance at whoever it was, and sighed in relief when he saw it was just his coworker.
"Anne, get your arse back to work!" Tom called over the loudspeaker.
"Oh piss off!" She called back, already putting her apron back on. "What orders do we have now?"
Tom handed over the two easier orders, and worked on Oliver's Unicorn Blood Elixir.
" "soy latte, absolutely no soy"?" Anne questioned. "Couldnt they have just ordered a regular latte?"
"I tried to convince them, but they're adamant the soy-free soy lattes taste the best."
"Well. Oh well, more money in the drawer for us." She shrugged and began making the orders.
Tom braced his hands against his clean counter, staring down at the mug. He didnt ask if it were hot or cold. Why was he acting like this?
Tom! He scolded himself. Pull yourself together. This isnt you, and quite frankly, it's annoying.
He sucked in as much air as his lungs would let him, let it out slowly, and turned toward the front and called out "Oliver?"
Said boy looked up, a question clear on his face. He stood, leaving heavily charmed cell phone at the table, and approached the counter. "That was fast?" He seemed skeptical.
"Actually no. I just remembered I didnt ask you if you wanted it hot or cold."
"Oh! Yes. Of course, cold please! I just looked them up, over there, at that table, and they look so magical cold!" His eyes shone of a glowing wonder. Tom heartrate increased, and he could nearly swear he was dying because of this ethereal, tacky dressed vision in front of him.
Oliver should go to prison for attempted murder. Or maybe he just got out? Either way, he was, actively or not, trying to kill Tom.
Tom chuckled, "Yes, they're very blasé warm, I will admit. But still equally delicious, of course. You may return to your seat, I'll have your order ready momentarily." He smiled graciously, waiting until Oliver smiled back and returned to his seat.
Tom grabbed a new cup, a clear, tall glass this time, wrote Oliver's name on it with the Expo marker, and, before he thought better of it, wrote on the opposite side, this time in Sharpie, as if it were supposed to have it and wasnt just an additional, spur of the moment decision:
bewitching (verb):
Enchant or delight (someone)
Time to get to work, then.
He blended a thick pink, vanilla cupcake flavoured concoction in one blender, an equally thick pale green, Earl Grey flavored in another, and started up the lavender purple, lavender flavoured into the last of the blenders. He poured black tapioca pearls into the bottom of the glass and drizzled edible glitter laced caramel down the inside of the glass while he waited for the three blenders to finish their work, and, once they were done, carefully poured each of the blenders contents into reusable piping bags.
Normally, Tom didnt go through this step, but he wanted to make the drink absolutely perfect for the single most beautiful man in the shop. The rest of the customers who would inevitably see it, be damned; they were worth nothing in comparison to pretty Oliver and his heart stopping smile.
He piped in a thick line of pink, then green, and finally purple, filling the glass completely. He took one of the stainless steel stirrers nearby and very gently, very carefully swirled the colours just a bit, so it wasn't a stark pink, green, and purple, but a much softer, less defined array of colour.
Then, he brought out the hand-prepared pale blue whipped cream, swirled it on top, and brought out Anne's favourite decorations: the silver sugar pearls and sugar crystals. He tossed a handful of pearls on the top of the very colourful creation before doing the same with the silver sugar crystals.
Very nearly perfect. Tom grabbed two of the thick, white straws and arranged them just so, one taller than the other, and sighed.
"Anne?" He asked, cringing all the while. "Do we have any more of those pink, edible hearts?"
Anne gasped dramatically. Why does she have to do this? What does she have against him?!
Please dont draw Oliver's attention! He mentally pleaded.
"You dont put hearts on anything! Even if it's one of our Valentines Specials! What is wrong with you!" She was so loud, and Tom could cry, surely the bitch was going to get Oliver's attention, but then she reached up, into one of the cabinets in the back, and grabbed a small container filled with them. "Here you are, go nuts." And returned to her work.
Tom opened the container, grabbed one of the smaller hearts, and gently placed it in front of the straws. He smiled at his handiwork - Oliver's perfect face would light up as soon as he saw this! - and turned around, ready to call out the order, slightly startled to find Oliver already at the counter, looking flustered and a tad embarrassed.
Oh fuck, did he hear her Tom was going to murder her--
"I'm sorry," his eyes flicked down to Tom's nametag, "Tom. I know I said I wouldnt be going anywhere, but I just got a text from my friend, Gwen. I'm going to need my order to go." He looked dejected.
Tom had an instant hatred toward that look.
"That's alright, here's your order." He passed the glass over to him, a small, reassuring smile over his lips. "Dont worry about the glass, just take it." He said, before Oliver could protest on taking one of their more expensive glasses.
Oliver smiled gently, "Thank you, Tom. Though I do still feel bad at taking one of your glass cups."
"How about this;" Anne rudely shoved her way in, "give him your number, make it even."
Oliver, caught off guard, guffawed, setting his drink down on the countertop so he didnt tip it over on accident, and brought his hand up to try and quiet his harmonic laugh. "I'm sorry!" He got out through a laugh. "I'm not laughing at you, I just didnt expect that!"
Anne reached over, made the receipt machine spit out more paper, and grabbed one of her overly frilled, ostensibly girly, click pens, and passed the two of them over to Oliver.
Through his giggles, he managed to write down his phone number, his name just under it, a tiny heart dotting his "i".
"Here you are, Tom!" He slid the slip of paper over to Tom. "Call me sometime? If not, I'll just have to come back with my friends and make a huge dramatic scene. Maybe get the police involved?"
The cheeky shit! "Well, we cant have that, now can we? I'll call you when I'm off work later this evening, then. Dont make any plans to ruin my life or business just yet, darling." He winked.
. . . .1. . . .
. . . . . . . .2. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . .3. . . . . . . . . . . .
His face burst into actual flames, "I'm so sorry, please ignore that last word." Can I die now? Please and thank you! He thought as he buried his face in his hands.
Both Anne and Oliver laughed at him, but Oliver reached his hand over the countertop and gently pulled Tom's hand away from his burning face, and looked imploringly at him. "I'll never forget it, dear." And then, when Tom looked up at him, Oliver pulled Tom's hand to his face, and, to Tom's horrified delight, pressed a kiss to his knuckles. "Anne, was it?" He turned his focus to her, "Could you make sure he calls me?"
She grinned, looking very much like a shark in that one Pixar movie. "I'll make sure he at least sends you a text. And if not him, I know I will~" she winked flirtingly at him.
Oliver giggled his perfect laugh, winked back, took his drink in hand, and left, waving goodbye just outside the window.
"Your face is still red." Anne so helpfully pointed out. "And seriously, you had better call him! He seems nice, and it would do you good to actually get in the game!"
"I will, Anne. He said he'd make a scene with his friends, maybe get the police involved, if I didn't." Tom sighed. "And hes the most wonderful person I've ever seen, can you imagine his disappointed face? Go ahead, Anne. Imagine that perfect face, disappointed. It breaks your heart!"
He paused. "Well, not mine. But I'm sure you get my point."
"I do, and I'm glad we're on the same page." She reached out and touched his shoulder gently, smiling a bit as she said it, before clapping her hands. "Time to get back to work!"
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Tom sat there, on his couch, cell phone in one hand, and Oliver's phone number in the other, and he was nervous.
After Oliver left, they got so busy that Tom had completely forgotten about Oliver's phone number, which had previously been a burning weight in his pocket.
And now, hes on his couch at home, completely nervous.
He may have already stated that, but to his current state of mind, it didnt matter.
He needed to call Oliver. And to do that, he needed to put the numbers in his phone, and then press the green "call" button. One step at a time, Tom.
To put the numbers in.
Now.
Right now.
07
There! The first 2 digits!
00769 7659
And there are the rest! Now, to make the call.
(A/N, I dont know english phone numbers, so idk if that's even correct in the slightest. I know mobile numbers start with 07 and are 11 numbers long, but idk about the rest)
(A/N: Also, DONT CALL IT. It might actually be someones number idk but like srsly dont call it) (I mean it)
He took several deep, calming breaths, or at least he tried to. He ended up hyperventilating for a few minutes. Once he calmed down enough, he turned his phone screen back on, and unlocked it with his password, "v0ld3m0rt".
Before he had any second to think about his actions, once more that day, he pressed the "call" button.
Then, he panicked, nearly dropping the device.
For 3 entire rings, he was frozen in place, staring in horror at his phones screen, nearly silently hoping Oliver wouldnt pick up-
But then he did!
"Hello?" Even from this distance he sounded beautiful ♡
And like he had just woken up.
He quickly brought the phone up to his ear, "Yes, Oliver? This is Tom. From-from the Half-Life Caffe?"
"Oh! Tom! Hi, hello! It's good to finally hear from you!" Despite his obvious giddiness, his voice still sounded rough. "I was just saying to Gwen a few hours ago that we were going to have to start a riot." He laughed, but it came across as more of a few breathy chuckles than anything. "Why are you calling so late though? Its half passed midnight." There was a rustling on the other side of the phone, like maybe Oliver was shifting in his. Bed, Tom figured, or perhaps he was rubbing his eyes, to get the sleep from them.
"Is it really?" He pulled his phone from his ear and checked the time; 12:34. "Oh, I suppose it is. My apologies, it must have taken more time to build up the courage to call you than I thought."
"Wait, 'build up the courage'?" He giggled softly. "Were you afraid of calling me?" Tom could hear the smile in his voice.
"Not afraid, necessarily, just. Nervous."
"Dont be nervous, Tom. It's just me." There was more rustling, and a series of pop-ing noises, before Oliver was back on the line. "Sorry, i was stretching."
They were silent for a few moments, and just when Tom started to feel like an awkward mess, Oliver spoke quietly, "I'm glad you called me, Tom. I really was worried you'd never call."
"Of course I'd call you, Oliver." Tom spoke equally quietly. This was a space in time all their own, and he hated to break the serene moment. He leaned back on the sofa, resting his slightly aching back. "Though, if I'm quite honest, I dont know what to say."
"I think I do. I was cleaning my glass from earlier, and I must say, what an amazing drink, when I noticed a little something on the side."
"Could it have been... your name?" Tom smiled.
"No, you shit!" Oliver laughed. Tom soaked in the feeling it brought him. "The other thing. Does the word "bewitching" ring any bells?"
"Oh, yes, of course. That. A different word and definition is written on all of our glasses, you see-"
"Mmm no, I dont think so." He said in a silly, sing-song voice. "Robert, another of my friends, tried my amazing beverage and wanted one of his own. So I told him where to get it, and to take it there, and he did. But oddly enough, there was no word on it, besides his name."
Oh, well. Maybe it just rubbed off. It's just sharpie on glass, it doesnt last forever."
"Mm-hmm. I thought youd say that. My best friend Andrea was there, too, while I was there. You, however, know her as Anne."
Tom made a terrible noise in the back of his throat.
Oliver must have heard because he giggled, "And she said that you put bewitching on my glass because, and I quote her exact words, I am the "most wonderful person with the most perfect face", and then she prattled on about how red your face was, among other things, and-"
Tom made another noise, and rushed out "I'm so sorry Oliver, I know it was bold of me--"
"Oliver?" A female voice asked. She sounded far away, and quite young, at that, Tom couldnt help but wonder who she was.
A girlfriend? A female friend? His mother?
"Who are you talking to?" She sounded much nearer now. "Its 1 o'clock in the morning, my love."
Tom deduced she was either a very affectionate mother or his girlfriend. No fenale friend called their male friend "my love" for no reason.
Tom felt a cold stab of jealous shame low in his belly. Anne had gotten his hopes up, the incredible bitch. "I'm sorry, Oliver. I'll text you later, I've kept you up for long enough. You should get back to your girlfriend, and get back to sleep while you're at it." Tom couldnt believe he was rambling; Oliver brought out the worst in him, that was for sure.
"What? My what? Tom--" Oliver asked.
- Click -
Oh.
Tom hung up.
Well. There went that. Oliver had a girlfriend.
So why did Tom feel so crushed?
Oh, yes. That's right. He had a crush, so of course his little infatuation would crush him. It was in the name.
Tom's phone lit up, and the song Different as Can Be, his ringtone that Anne had set up for him, started playing. Without even glancing at the devices screen, he denied the call and shut the phone completely off. Oliver wouldnt, or rather, shouldnt, have anything more to say to him. Tom knew he didnt have anything to say to the other boy, so why should he bother answering a phone call?
Tom was exhausted. And he had to get up early the next morning to open up shop.
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...10am the next morning...
Holy fuck Tom was l a t e
His phone was his alarm, and like a complete fucking dumbarse, Tom had shut his phone off the night before and didnt bother to turn the fucker back on.
He could have simply blocked Oliver's phone number, and yet.
Tom could well and truly throttle himself at his absolute stupidity, and he may or may not have tied his tie a tiny but tighter this morning as a result.
But, onward and upward. He had a business to run, no use fretting over more sleep. Anne had the key to the caffe, and today was Thursday, so she was, in fact, working this morning. Time to get to work.
Tom dressed, brushed his teeth, rinsed with mouthwash, and flossed evenly for good measure, before he brushed his hair out. He didnt have time to shower that morning, so styling his hair had to be a must that morning. After it was perfectly styled, he deemed himself ready for the day. Time to grab his wallet, his car keys, and--
Mreow
Oh, right. His cat, Professor Quirrell.
"I'm sorry, sweet boy. I nearly forgot all about you, didnt I?" Tom apologized to his cat. "Its just I'm late for work."
Mrrrow
"I know, being late is no excuse to not feed you. Let's get you breakfast, shall we?" Tom made his way to the kitchen, where his dearly beloved cat was sat at his spot at the kitchenette's small table. "It's going to have to be cheap this morning, dear, I dont have time to cook for you. Or for me, for that matter. But I can at least get something at the shop. You, my poor little man," Tom scooped his small, slightly overweight black cat up in his arms, "would starve all day. And that's just not fair, is it?"
Brrrrw, Professor Quirrell agreed. Tom nodded, gently setting Professor Quirrell back down onto the table, before reaching up into a cabinet to get one of his special breakfast plates, and grabbed a can of wet cat food on a lower shelf. He popped the can open, grabbed a fork from the drawer, and gently divvied up his sweet Professor Quirrell's breakfast.
And, of course, Professor Quirrell, being an asshole, took one smell of it, and proceeded to bury it with invisible dirt, before he moved on to the "empty" dish of kibble. You see, it wasnt really empty, but just had a small empty patch in the middle. Tom fondly shook his head at the little bastard man, grabbed a small scoop of crunchies, and filled the dish back up.
Once Professor Quirrell started eating, Tom gently stroked down his back. "There. Now you wont starve." Tom stood, "I'll see you tonight, stinky boy. Behave."
Tom grabbed his keys and wallet, conveniently left at the door, before he called out, "No wild parties, Professor. You know the rules."
He locked his apartment door behind him and strolled down the stairs, before getting to his car, a yellow, 3-door Vauxhall Astra with a silver grill, parked conveniently at the kerb. Dont worry, there werent any double yellows anywhere in the vicinity, so it's not like he would get a parking ticket from the traffic warden. Tom was an exceptionally safe car owner. :)
(A/N: my british bestie helped me with all of that. Everything you just read in that last paragraph is factually correct and 100% certified true by him, an actual british person. The rest cannot be accounted for)
Arriving to work, however, was a completely different story. Several police cars sat out front, two with lights flashing.
Oh. Shit.
Tom parked hastily just down the block a bit, desperate to see what had happened to his caffe. He stepped inside, expecting a murder spree, blood on everything, only to find seven or so officers of the law sitting at the tables, nursing mugs of drinks, and at least four more queued up to order more beverages, and Anne, grinning evilly behind the register, who all turned toward him as he entered, with nothing else amiss in the shop.
"Er... Hello, officers. Working hard. Or hardly working?"
Oliver suddenly turned a corner from the back of the caffe, assumedly returning from the restrooms, when a tall brunet officer from the front of the caffe turned to him. "This the one, Oliver?"
His beautiful face and gorgeous curls, a perfect vision he was yesterday, wearing the same shiny boots and thigh bag as then, but instead of a yellow sweater and black pants, he was wearing rose print white jeans, yellow suspenders, and a form fitted white button up shirt. Such a lovely sight.
Tom! Control yourself! He has a girlfriend.
"Yes, Robert. This is Tom." Oliver puffed out his cheeks and crossed his arms over his chest, and Tom just felt even deeper infatuation with him.
(It couldnt possibly be love, oh no. Tom didnt do that.)
"That's all I need to hear. You're under arrest, Tom." The officer, Robert, pulled his handcuffs from his belt. "Hands behind your back please."
"What? What for?" Tom asked for the sake of his sanity. Of course, he still turned his back against the officer, hands behind him, but that was more out of courtesy and respect for the law than anything else.
Officer Robert came closer, snapping one cuff against his wrist, and pausing before doing up the other. "Why, for hanging up on sweet Oliver, of course. And then, for not answering any of his 17 phone calls after." And then he snapped the other cuff on.
Oliver had really gotten the police involved, just as he promised. The little tart!
Wait...
"Oh, but that wasnt the agreement." Tom started.
"Oh?" Officer Robert questioned. "Then what was the agreement?" Tom thought he heard a smug grin leaking through his voice.
"The agreement was I would call him, or Oliver would get the police involved. I did call him, so there are no reasons to arrest me, officer. I held up my end of the bargain." Tom smoothly talked.
"Why would you hang up on him, though? Have you ever spoken to him? You wont ever want to hang up." Another officer, presumably from the sitting crowd, asked.
"It was nearing 1am, officer. And I had to get to work early this morning."
"But here you are, at 11am. I don't count that as early, do any of you?" A woman asked. That voice... it wasnt Anne, and it sounded familiar...
"I turned my phone off last night. My phone is my alarm, so of course I didnt wake up at the right time." Tom explained.
"You didn't have to turn your phone off." Oliver said. He sounded grouchy, and Tom desperately wanted to see his Mr. Grouchy Face.
"You're right, I could have just blocked your number."
"You didnt have to do that, either!" There was a small k'thunk, very soon after that. Did Oliver just stomp his foot? How very childish, Tom couldnt help but chuckle at the mere thought.
"Oliver, it was late. I needed to sleep. You needed to sleep, your girlfriend needed to sleep, I dont understand why you're getting so upset with me for being responsible."
"I dont have a girlfriend!" Another k'thunk. "Gwen is a lesbian!"
"Hey, whoa now." The same female voice from earlier spoke up. "Let's not put any labels on anything, shall we? I prefer women, yes, that is true, but I would totally bang him too."
"You're just saying that because hes in handcuffs, Gwen."
"Can I be released now, please?" Tom asked, quite done with the uncomfortable cuffs. "Its obvious this is just a sham arrest."
Officer Robert cleared his throat. "Well, everything seems to check out, at least from what an eyewitness testimony states." Officer Robert quickly pulled the key from its place, "Dont let it happen again, however, young man. Next time, I wont be so lenient." And he unlocked the cuffs.
An entire five minutes and 15 seconds of being handcuffed, all because Oliver was a little pissy. Tom could already see himself dating this dramatic train wreck of a human.
"Thank you."
"Are we done now? I'm sure we ruined this poor man's business forever." Another officer spoke.
"Yeah, and now he knows Oliver can and will get the police involved in the future. I'm sure hes been scared enough for today."
Officers Robert and Gwen turned toward Oliver, as if asking if they were still needed. "Yeah, fine. Go away." Oliver said, suddenly sounding very tired. "Tom and I need to talk about a few things, and I know this is already going to spread around the precinct like fiend fire."
The officers stood, bringing their empty mugs to the counter to be cleaned, and getting to-go paper cups for the road. Anne was a saint for making more carafes.
Speaking of...
Anne, who had been suspiciously silent the entire time, was standing behind the counter, elbows resting against it, grinning madly, looking exactly like the shark from that Pixar movie. Or the Cheshire cat. Maybe a mix of the two.
"Fish are friends, Anne." Tom told her.
"I'm going to give the two of you a moment," she said, still grinning her crazed grin. "I need to say goodbye to Gwen. Oliver, we have security cameras. If you murder him, I cant help you with anything, but I am planning on making some meat pies eventually." She winked, took her apron off and hung it on the hook behind the counter, before she too left the caffe.
Once the last officer left, making the comment about how good the coffee here was, Oliver grabbed Tom's wrist to get his attention. "Tom. I dont have a girlfriend. I'm living with Gwen. The couch is uncomfortable, and we're close enough that we can share the bed without it being weird. Is that really the reason why you hung up on me-why you turned your phone off and ignored me? Or was all this just. Some little mistake?"
"I apologize for making such a bold assumption. You just seem to bring out the worst in my behaviour. I apologize for that as well. Yes, it was because I believed you had a girlfriend. I may have developed a sort of. Infatuation, if you will, with you. And while I know that's not any grounds for anything to become of us, I couldnt help but feel." Tom paused and chewed his lower lip, averting his eyes. "Jealous. I want you to be mine, and just the thought of you being hers, well. It didn't settle well with me." He finished quietly.
Oliver, the sweet boy, giggled. Tom looked up at him. "How about this? I get your work schedule, come in whenever I can, I get a drink, you get a drink, we chat for a while, and see where this gets us? Maybe, possibly, going on some real dates in between?" If Tom had known better, he would know that Oliver was blatantly flirting.
"That sounds wonderful, Oliver. Thank you." Tom truly meant it, too.