Love (?) is in the air
pairing: jonah simms x fem!cloud9!reader words: 1.5k summary: Sandra clearly misreads a situation between (Y/n) and Jonah. Or does she? warnings: one single f-bomb a/n: superstore fic can I get a hell yeah
"You know, when I pictured what I'd be doing at this age, I always hoped it involved a forklift and a six-foot bear with dead eyes," (Y/N) said dryly, hoisting the last of the giant plush monstrosities onto the display shelf before she got down from the forklift.
Jonah adjusted the row of novelty mugs for the third time that hour. “You know,” he said, glancing sideways, “if these mugs were any more passive-aggressive, they’d be my mom.”
(Y/N) snorted, steadying the bear before it could tip over and crush a cardboard standee of Cupid. “This mug literally says, 'I guess you’ll do.' Romance is alive and well.”
The fluorescent lights above them flickered like they, too, were judging the display. Somewhere in the distance, a child shrieked bloody murder— likely over a dented box of candy hearts.
Jonah picked up one of the mugs and turned it in his hand, mock thoughtful. “‘I’m Yours. No Refunds.’ Honestly? Kind of hot.”
(Y/N) arched an eyebrow. “That’s your type?”
He shrugged. “I like a little emotional blackmail in my dishware.”
She nudged his side with her elbow, grinning. “That explains so much.”
He laughed and leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice like he was about to tell a secret. “I mean, if someone gave me this mug and a half-assed note, I’d probably propose on the spot.”
“Oh, so we’re setting the bar that low now?” she teased.
“I work retail, (Y/N). The bar’s in the stockroom buried under a broken price scanner and my will to live.”
She barked out a laugh. “That tracks.”
They were standing too close now— not that either of them minded. It was just the kind of comfortable proximity that happened when two people spent too much time in the same blue vests, in the same aisles, pretending they weren’t already halfway to a workplace romance.
Jonah reached over to fix one of the mugs she’d haphazardly placed. Their fingers brushed.
(Y/N) looked up at him. “Wow. Perfectionist and poetic. Dangerous combo.”
Jonah smiled, a little crooked. “Don’t forget modest.”
Before she could reply, a small gasp echoed from the end of the aisle.
They both turned their heads.
Sandra stood frozen like she’d been caught in the middle of an unspeakable act. Her eyes were wide, darting between Jonah and (Y/N), and she clutched her clipboard to her chest like it might shield her from whatever she thought she was witnessing.
She lifted one shaky finger and pointed at them. Then back to her clipboard. Then at them again.
Her mouth opened. Nothing came out.
Jonah blinked. “Uh… hey, Sandra.”
Sandra said nothing. Just kept pointing. Now with both hands, her clipboard forgotten on the ground with a mild thud. Her lip trembled slightly, as though on the verge of tears, or a nervous breakdown, or both.
(Y/N) took a slow step forward. “Are you okay?”
Sandra squeaked. Literally squeaked. Then turned on her heel and walked away at a brisk, flustered shuffle.
Jonah and (Y/N) stood in silence for a moment.
Finally, (Y/N) said, “So… that felt normal.”
Jonah nodded. “Textbook Cloud 9 interaction.”
“Well, at least that’s the weirdest today has gotten.”
And just as Jonah was about to make another joke about flower arrangements, someone in the toy aisle screamed, “IS THAT A RACCOON?!”
They both turned toward the sound. And sighed.
——————————————————————————————————
The breakroom smelled vaguely like burnt popcorn and cleaning fluid. Glenn stood at the front near the whiteboard, nervously holding a laminated emergency protocol chart with one corner already chewed off— presumably by the raccoon still unaccounted for in the store.
“So,” Glenn began, “in the event that you see the raccoon again, please don’t try to lure it with peanut butter. Or beef jerky. Or Cheyenne’s perfume.”
Cheyenne, from the couch, raised a hand. “Okay, but it really liked my perfume. Like, aggressively.”
Mateo scoffed. “I’m just saying, if it’s still in the building, I vote we name it and train it to do returns.”
“You’re all missing the point,” Glenn said, waving the chart like it held divine authority. “This is a serious—”
“Okay, everyone shut up,” Dina cut in, not even looking up from her protein bar. “Glenn’s talking. Which means you listen and pretend to care.”
The room quieted— well, as much as it ever did. Jonah sat near the vending machine, one foot bouncing lightly. (Y/N) was across the table from him, chin propped on her hand, looking both amused and half-asleep.
Glenn cleared his throat. “Now. In case of wild animal invasion, the protocol is to calmly evacuate the aisle and alert management—”
“Like that ever happens,” Amy muttered.
“And not to scream and throw a clearance Nerf gun at it,” Glenn added, giving Marcus a meaningful look.
Marcus just shrugged. “Instinct.”
The conversation derailed instantly, as usual. Someone brought up whether or not they should build a raccoon-proof panic room. Mateo started a pitch for his “Emergency Escape Fashion Capsule.” Cheyenne offered to draw raccoon warning signs for every aisle.
And then, without warning, Sandra stood up.
She’d been uncharacteristically quiet, sitting stiffly in the corner, eyes fixed on the floor like she was building up courage for something big. Which, in Sandra’s case, meant something dramatic and deeply misguided.
“I just think,” she said suddenly, “that we should take a moment to appreciate that love can blossom anywhere. Even in a hostile workplace environment.”
Silence.
Everyone turned.
Garrett, eyebrows raised, leaned back in his wheelchair. “Okay… continue.”
Sandra swallowed, visibly shaking. “I mean— Jonah and (Y/N). It’s just so beautiful to see two people finally realize what they’ve been denying for so long.”
More silence, but this time of the awkward and stunned kind.
(Y/N) blinked. “Wait, what?”
Jonah looked around like maybe someone else was being referenced. “I’m sorry, us?”
"Sandra, genuinely, what the fuck?"
Sandra clutched the edge of the table like she’d just made a profound announcement. “I saw you. This morning. In Seasonal.”
Jonah frowned. “With the… mugs?”
Sandra nodded solemnly, like this explained everything. “And the bear.”
Cheyenne gasped. “Wait, you guys?”
Garrett leaned forward, looking far too entertained. “Hold on. You’re saying Jonah and (Y/N) are a thing now?”
Jonah opened his mouth. “No, absolutely—”
“Thank you,” Mateo cut in, nodding solemnly. “Because finally, someone else noticed.”
Jonah threw his hands up. “There’s nothing to notice!”
“Oh please,” Cheyenne said. “You were standing like, this close.” She held two fingers about a breath apart. “And Jonah was doing his soft eyes thing.”
“I don’t do a soft eyes thing,” Jonah said.
“You one hundred percent do a soft eyes thing,” Garrett said. “You do it every time (Y/N) says something even remotely sarcastic.”
“Jesus Christ,” Jonah muttered.
(Y/N) looked around the table. “Can we get back to the part where there’s a raccoon loose in the store? Or is that less important than whatever hallucination Sandra had?”
Sandra, quietly, “It wasn’t a hallucination.”
Mateo sipped his drink. “She’s doubling down. Bold.”
Glenn clasped his hands. “I always hoped love would bloom here. Even in the presence of pest infestations and frequent cart theft.”
(Y/N) looked around the room, expression blank. “I am begging you all to get hobbies.”
“That’s what people say when they’re caught,” Mateo said.
“Caught doing what?” Jonah asked, voice rising slightly.
“Being all soft and couple-y,” Amy replied, like it was a felony, clearly enjoying this more than she should.
Glenn sniffled. “It’s just... nice, you know? Love in a hopeless place.”
Dina stood up, clearly done. “Alright. Break’s over. Glenn, your meeting has gone off the rails. You are spineless and a downright disgrace. As fun as this was, there is a raccoon loose in the store that we need to tend to. If I find that before you do, I’m keeping it.”
Everyone stood and filed out of the breakroom, still murmuring and exchanging knowing looks.
Jonah and (Y/N) stayed behind for a second. He gave her a look, somewhere between exasperated and amused.
“You think if we start actively being mean to each other, they’ll drop it?”
(Y/N) stood, grabbing her half-empty coffee. “Probably not. We’ll just end up on a different kind of list.”
He nodded. “Yeah. I mean, next time I’ll just high-five you from across the aisle to avoid scandal.”
(Y/N) smirked. “I feel like that it will actively make it worse.”
Jonah opened his mouth, stopped, sighed. “Cool. Awesome.”
She paused at the door. “For the record? You do do the soft eyes thing.”
Jonah blinked. “What’s the—?”
She gave him a deadpan look as she leaned against the doorframe, then rolled her eyes and walked away, smiling. Jonah instinctively felt his entire demeanour change, soften, in fact.
Oh.
