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Marc took a break from wiping down tables to adjust their sleeves, which were rolled up, as well as their black apron, on which a white dusting of flour stood out in stark contrast. While doing so, they looked up just in time to accidentally meet a pair of turquoise eyes that were too intriguing a sight for eyes that belonged to someone they’d never talked to beyond taking orders and accepting thanks. He was one of the shop’s regulars, a redhead with shaggy hair, and he was returning Marc’s smile from where he was bent over his drawing tablet.
Next to him was a pink-haired girl who occasionally accompanied him, and she’d seemed to be berating him for something, pausing her rant and sighing when her friend smiled at Marc. she said something too quiet for them to hear, and her friend’s face became panicked. She twisted around in her chair, making direct eye contact with Marc, who froze, knowing they’d been staring for too long.
“Hey,” she called over. “It’s not something that’s part of your job description exactly, but I was wondering if you could help us out with something…”
“I’m not busy,” Marc said, a bit too quickly, eyes darting to the redhead. “I use they/them pronouns, by the way.”
“I know,” he said, then winced as his friend elbowed him. “I mean! I come, um, here. A lot. So I remembered.”
He sank down in his seat.
“Moving along,” his friend said. “You gotta tell Nathaniel that his art is awesome.”
“Alix!” Nathaniel hissed. “You can’t bias them before they’ve even looked at it! If you’re going to make me go through the ordeal of being judged, at least let it be authentic.”
“I’m sure it’s amazing,” Marc said earnestly.
“Um,” Nathaniel brushed his bangs out of his eyes, “Yeah, so, I’m in this tattooing course, and I wouldn’t mind some feedback on my sketches, if that’s alright?”
“Of course,” they said.
“Thanks, Marc,” he said, not even needing to look at their name tag.
He flipped his drawing tablet around so that the screen faced them, and their eyes widened.
“Woah,” they said, awed.
In front of them, a spread of Wonderland-themed sketches sprawled across a white background in crimson and robin egg blue. A white rose dripped red paint from its petals, a cheshire smile stretched beneath the words ‘we’re all mad here’, a bloody ax buried into a tree stump, and the outline of a rabbit wrapped around a pocket watch that it had clutched between its front paws.
“This is amazing!” Marc said. “You’re really talented!”
Nathaniel’s face turned bright red.
“Ha!” Alix slammed the table. “I told you.”
“Do you take commissions?” Marc blurted out without thinking.
“You want a tattoo?” he asked.
“N-no,” they stammered. “I just- forget it, it’s dumb.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” he said.
“Even if it is, we’re hardly going to judge you,” Alix tacked on.
“Thanks, Alix,” Nathaniel muttered. “Super helpful.”
“What?” she said. “I’m acknowledging that it might be stupid. We can all be dumb sometimes, it’s allowed!”
“Um, I just have this small project I’m working on,” Marc interjected before the friends could escalate into bickering. “A book of sorts. I’ve been thinking about getting an illustrator, but I figured that it’s a bit early in the writing process for that.”
“Oh, Nath is great at drawing OCs,” Alix said with a glint in her eye. “He’s got plenty of experience.”
“Alix! You can’t just-”
Marc snickered, and Nathaniel stopped mid-protest to drop his head onto the table with a thunk.
- - - - - - -
Marc stared at their laptop, frustrated and exhausted, the coffee they’d ordered cold in its mug.
“I’m not getting anything done,” they said.
“Hm?” Nathaniel, seated across the small table for two, paused his sketching.
“I think I need a break,” they admitted.
“That’s totally valid,” he said. “It’s been hours.”
Nathaniel started packing up his stuff.
“What..?” Marc said, confused.
“Let’s take a walk,” he said. “I think the barista is close to kicking us out anyway.”
“I didn’t want to interrupt your work,” they said.
“Don’t worry about it,” he waved them off. “My hand’s starting to cramp, and we might as well not overstay our welcome here. I think some movement and fresh air will do us some good.”
“Okay,” Marc smiled softly.
The two exited the cafe, electronics safely stowed in their bags, and Marc took a deep breath, inhaling the chilly autumn air.
“Where to?” they asked. “I don’t know this area very well.”
“Wherever,” Nathaniel shrugged, setting off in a random direction. “Let’s wander.”
“Ooh, exploring,” Marc said. “Not usually my thing, but it sounds fun.”
“Why not?” he asked curiously.
“Anxiety, mostly,” they said.
“Mood,” Nathaniel said. “But we don’t have to do this if you’re uncomfortable.”
“Nah, it’s fine,” Marc said. “I’m fine in new places as long as I’m with someone I trust.”
“Oh,” Nathaniel said, a grin spreading across his face.
Marc’s cheeks flushed from more than the cold.
- - - - - - -
Marc looked out of the window worriedly as rain thundered down, as though another glance would change the reality of the weather. The tray of blueberry muffins they’d set on the floor to cool steamed gently in the heated interior of the apartment, awaiting the guest they were baked for (not that Marc would admit it).
If he wasn’t going to cancel.
The streets were slick with rainwater, the temperature kept dropping, and maybe it was weird, if not presumptuous of Marc, to invite Nathaniel over to a disorganized apartment when all prior meetings had been held in public spaces.
“Crap,” Marc stiffened at a sudden realization, and cast a panicked eye over their messy apartment. “I’m going to embarrass myself so bad.”
“Mm?” Aurore, who was sprawled on the couch, and a third-responsible for the mess, questioned. “What?”
“I told you,” Marc bit their lip, not looking forward to more teasing. “The artist I’m collaborating with is coming over.”
“It’s about time,” Aurore said. “You need me to leave?”
“What?”
“You know,” she smiled mischievously, “so you two can have some of that privacy that you sorely lack in your coffee shop meet cutes.”
“W-wha- no!” Marc spluttered. “It’s not like that! Get your mind out of the gutter.”
“Shame,” Aurore said. “Well, I’ll give you guys the living room. If you change your mind just keep it down.”
She grabbed her pet rabbit and retreated to the room she shared with Mireille.
Marc sighed, cringing internally at the image she’d, well, not painted, but outlined at the very least.
They were fighting a blush when they remembered the state of their apartment.
“Shit!” they frantically kicked at the clutter on the floor in a fruitless attempt to sweep the mess under a couch.
A hesitant knock sounded from the door, and Marc gave themself one moment to despair, then scrambled over to open it.
“Hey,” a soaking wet Nathaniel greeted. “Glad I found the right place.”
“Oh my god,” Marc grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. “You must be freezing.”
“It’s- it’s fine,” he said, shivering slightly.
“Nope,” they said. “You are getting into dry clothes and under a blanket before we do anything else.”
They winced as an imaginary Aurore waggled her eyebrows at them.
“Aye aye, captain,” Nathaniel said, oblivious.
Face burning, they practically sprinted to their room to find spare clothes.
- - - - - - -
Marc had stayed late into the night in Nathaniel’s apartment once or twice, but for the first time they found themself waking up there. Their cheek was squashed into the arm of the couch, and as they sat up a cozy quilt fell from their shoulders to their lap. The smell of batter and coffee filled the air, and Marc craned their head to peek around the corner into the kitchen, where Nathaniel stood at the counter.
“Good morning,” he said cheerfully. “Did you sleep well?”
Hazy memories of Nathaniel convincing a tired Marc to stay returned to them, and their heart warmed, skipping a beat involuntarily.
“Yeah,” they replied a bit too late. “You?”
“Great,” he said. “I hope you like waffles.”
He stepped to the side to reveal the waffle iron on the countertop.
“I love waffles,” Marc said. “Especially when made from scratch instead of frozen.”
Nathaniel’s face broke into a relieved smile.
“There’s coffee in the pot, milk in the fridge, sugar in the corner cabinet, and mugs and spoons you can take from the drainboard,” he said. “Help yourself.”
“Thank you,” they said. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”
“Maybe not,” Nathaniel said. “But I’m happy to.”
Marc just knew that later they’d be lying in bed, kicking their feet and screaming into their pillow.
- - - - - - -
Yellow lighting reflected off wooden flooring and patrons’ dyed hair, and a low buzz of conversation filled the small space alongside the scent of alcoholic beverages.
“You’ve really never been to a gay bar?” Marc asked yet again.
“Unlike you, I didn’t realize I was queer for a while,” Nathaniel defended himself. “Sexuality is confusing.”
“Well, I’m glad I can fix that,” they said, nodding thankfully to the worker setting down their respective drinks in front of them. “You’re missing out on an essential life experience.”
He looked doubtful, and flustered for whatever reason, but shrugged and took a sip of his mixture of lemonade and vodka.
“So how’d you find this place?” Nathaniel asked. “It’s a little out of the way.”
“A friend of mine used to work here,” Marc said. “I came to visit them during a shift once and never looked back.”
“A ‘friend’ or a friend ?” he raised his eyebrows.
“A friend,” they rolled their eyes. “I haven’t been into someone for a while, until recently anyway.”
“Oh?” Nathaniel smirked. “Does Marc have a crush~?”
They turned red and looked at their glass, almost missing what he said next.
“Well, it’s only fair that I tell you that I like someone too,” Nathaniel admitted quietly.
A combination of dread and hope filled Marc.
“Who’s the lucky person?” they asked tentatively.
“I’ll tell if you tell,” Nathaniel said.
“For the sake of honesty and our friendship,” Marc said, “let me preface this with the fact that I’m not expecting anything. And I’m not trying to pressure you or anything, I don’t know how to say this, Jesus. Uh, before I start rambling I’ll just spit it out- I, kinda well, mightlikeyoumaybe -”
They clapped their hands over their eyes in sheer mortification.
“That’s a relief,” Nathaniel said, blushing fiercely. “Because the, um, ‘lucky person’, as you put it, happens to be you.”
“Oh, damn!” Marc blurted out, louder than they meant to be, and they quickly adjusted their volume to be quieter. “For real?”
“For real,” Nathaniel laughed shakily.
“Oh,” Marc said, smiling like an idiot.
“Um, I wasn’t planning on asking quite yet,” Nathaniel said. “And I don’t exactly know what to say, but, um, would you go on a date with me?”
“I’d like that,” Marc said. “I’d really like that, Nath.”