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Yet another Lizard Tales fic! Context

Race had only gone to the pet shop to pick up food for his sister’s hamster. There had been a trade: she was going to do his share of the washing up if he went out and got the food for Hamschen. He was about 60% sure he was going to get back and find her still sat in front of the television with no inclination to move, but the 40% chance that said otherwise seemed worth the risk. So he’d walked a couple of blocks and found the nearest pet store, asking the guy behind the counter where the hamster food was and following him down an aisle. When he’d pointed out the food he gave Race a smile and headed back around the corner to the register.

“Damn, he’s cute,” Race whispered, staring after him.

A movement to his left caught his eye and he turned to find a tank of lizards opposite the hamster food. There was one bearded dragon sat on top of a large rock, poking his tongue out at him. Now, Race didn’t speak lizard but he was entirely sure that it was telling him to give the guy his number. “I’m not asking him out,” he hissed, aware that the boy in question was just around the corner.

But the lizard either didn’t understand or just plain didn’t care because it just stuck its tongue out again, looking wholly apathetic.

“No.” The lizard did it again. “No.” And again. “No.”

Suddenly the lizard wasn’t a problem anymore because the employee – his name badge had read ‘Spot’ next to where whatever his real name was had been scribbled out with Sharpie -was leaning against the stack of cat carriers at the top of the aisle, barely holding back a mocking smirk. “What are you doing, dude?” Spot asked, amused.

Race tried to find a way to talk himself out of this but nothing came to mind, so he resigned himself to looking crazy in front of the attractive boy and shrugged like there was nothing weird about the situation he found himself in. “Arguing with a lizard,” he said bluntly, folding his arms and meeting Spot’s eyes. “Bonnie or Clyde?” Spot asked.

That threw Race for a second. He hadn’t been aware of the conversation shifting to criminals in the Great Depression. “What?” “The lizards,” Spot explained slowly. “They’re called Bonnie and Clyde. Which one are you arguing with?” “Oh,” Race managed, blinking. Quite how Spot still managed to look cute when acting superior was beyond him, but he wasn’t exactly complaining. “I don’t know. The one who keeps sticking his tongue out at me.”

That was officially the best thing Race could have said because it made Spot laugh and suddenly Race wasn’t sure what he’d been living for before that. Spot lit up, surprised by the answer and Race had no idea how to make him that happy on a regular basis but he wanted to be the one to do it. “Clyde. He’s a bit of an ass,” Spot grinned.

Race was very speechless and he’d run out of clever answers. Stammering his way through “s-s-sure,” he turned his back on Spot to pick up the hamster food that he’d been given specific instructions to choose carefully. He tried to postpone his trip to the cash register but there was only so long he could pretend to be interested in plants for fish tanks and eventually he had to trek his way up to Spot, trying hard not to blush.

Spot seemed well aware of what was going on, smirking through the entire transaction and barely taking his eyes off of Race. It was as if he liked watching him squirm. Just as he was about to hand over the receipt, he pulled it back to make Race wait.

“Clyde’s right,” he said, nonchalantly.

“What?” Race asked, confused. Were they still talking about the lizard?

Spot grinned. “You should ask me out.”

The way Race’s cheeks slowly turned red was truly something to behold and he really wished he had a camera, hating the ‘no phones on the shop floor’ rule more than ever. It wasn’t every day that he heard a cute Italian boy say he was attractive and he’d be stupid not to take the opportunity when he did.

“You heard that?!” Race spluttered, considering running out of the store and never looking back.

“Maybe,” Spot shrugged, the smirk returning. “And yes.”

Race thought he knew what Spot was implying but he had to be sure, before he made an even bigger fool of himself. “Yes what?” he prompted.

“Yes I’ll go out with you.”

Ah, right, so it was what he thought. This was very clearly a fight for the higher ground in the conversation and Race knew he wasn’t winning.

“I didn’t ask,” he said, sounding far more relaxed than he really felt.

“Let’s pretend you did. Here’s my number; call me,” Spot ordered, writing the digits on the bottom of the receipt before finally handing it over.

Their fingers brushed when Race took the piece of paper and suddenly every witty reply he had was gone.

“O-okay,” he forced, flinching at how pathetic he sounded in his own ears.

Turning and fleeing, hamster food in hand, Race was already trying to work out exactly what to say in a text to Spot. As he walked past the lizard cage, Clyde stuck out his tongue.

“Shut up,” Race grumbled, but he couldn’t keep the smile from his face.

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