Blame Taylor Swift and my propensity towards AUs.
For Rachel (Rache14/Structuredcomplexity)
Disclaimer: I don't own a damn thing and I find that to be quite unfortunate because I want my own Larry Fleinhardt
You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter,
You are the best thing that's ever been mine
-Taylor Swift's Mine;
"Meggy," the kitchen manager called from the window as he slammed his hand down on the bell. "Order's up."
"The name is Megan," the nineteen year old growled under her breath as she wiped her brow on the back of her wrist before loading the plates onto a tray and balancing the tray off her bicep. She glanced around the diner before deciding on the easiest course – she dropped the blue plate specials off to the elderly couple in the corner, topped off the coffee for the new mom next to them, and then ended at the far corner where the man was sitting. He'd been there for an hour already and it had taken him forty-five minutes to decide on egg whites, plain white bread, and a glass of milk. She cleared her throat and smiled down at him. "Hey stranger. You ready for your food?"
The blond haired man closed his book and smiled back at her. "I am indeed-" he glanced at her name tag, "Megan."
"So explain to me the monochromatic thing," she asked with a hand on her hip and a bemused grin.
"Super symmetry," he explained as he took a sip of the milk. "There's a longer explanation but I'm mostly just an eccentric."
"All the best ones are," she countered. He was cute in that geeky kind of way that she loathed herself for finding so damned attractive. "What are you reading?"
"Oh!" He lifted the book so she could see the cover. "Carl Sagan."
"The star guy?"
"He's a bit more than that but, yes, I do suppose 'star guy' is adequate." He wiped his upper lip with a napkin to remove his milk mustache. "I'm a graduate student at Cal Sci," he explained. "Astrophysicist and Cosmologist in the making."
"Just like Sagan," Megan nodded.
"Just like Sagan," he echoed.
"Megan," the kitchen manager screeched from across the small lobby. "You don't get paid for standing around yakking!"
Megan closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath – reminding herself that she had made the choice three years ago and she couldn't turn around now just because her boss was a jerk. She offered the cute man an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, I've got to go. It was nice to meet you, sweetheart."
"My name's Larry," he told her as she walked off to refill the coffee pots. She turned her head and offered him a small smile over shoulder and a slight wave.
The rest of her shift passed without much incidence; she spent the last two hours topping coffees, providing the elderly and movie goers with pie and ice cream, and refilling a single glass of milk for the sweet man in the far corner of her section. Her relief came in at eight and she gratefully jumped at the chance to count down her drawer and clock out before letting her hair down and crossing back to the man in the corner. "You like our milk that much?"
"Oh," the man jumped and blushed deeply. "I'm sorry. I got wrapped up in my Sagan and I'm out of milk at home... Plus, I kind of wanted to make sure that man didn't give you anymore trouble."
Megan tried to bite back her laughter but her shoulders shook silently and she smiled deeply. "What were you going to do – brain my boss with your Sagan?"
"Perhaps," he smirked. He gestured to the bench across from his seat. "Join me?"
"Sure." She slid into the booth and crossed her legs. "So, Larry, the astronomer-cosmologist to be, how did you end up all the way over here? This neighborhood is a far cry from Cal Sci's neighborhood."
"Right you are," Larry replied with a nod before crossing his fingers under his chin. "I'm in the market for a car and a local just so happened to have one I was interested in. I came to purchase it today around dinner time and found myself here."
"What kind of car?"
"A thirty-one model a."
"You're kidding." Megan's mouth gaped. "That car is a work of beauty – I mean, it's practically a work of art worthy of the Louvre."
"That might be hyperbole but I don't disagree on any particular point." His smile made her stomach dance and she sunk her teeth into her bottom lip as she watched his eyes grow vibrant with excitement. "You know your classic cars, Megan?"
"My father was a car fanatic," she explained with eyes downcast. She had once shared a great relationship with her father until she figured out that she would never be everything he wanted her to be and he could not stand the disappointment. "He started dragging me to shows before I could even walk and I knew the inner workings of his '69 Mustang like I knew the alphabet by the time I started kindergarten – believe me, I knew the alphabet."
Larry laughed softly. "Would you like to see her?"
"Are you kidding," she asked. "I'd love to."
He stood and moved to her side of the booth and extended his hand. "Larry Fleinhardt."
"Megan Reeves," she told him as she took his hand and allowed him to pull her from the booth. She had been living mostly on her own for the past three years and had grown hardened to the advances of older men but Larry Fleinhardt seemed to be scaling her walls without any trouble. Her heart was racing and she felt the need to run but that just made her want to hang on tighter. "Show me the car, Mister Fleinhardt."
His hand found the small of her back as he guided her out the heavy glass door and to the small adjacent parking lot. "Not to be untoward but how old are you, Megan?"
"Nineteen," she explained. "And you, old man?"
"Twenty-four," he told her softly. "What are you studying?"
"Nothing," she whispered with just the hint of shame. "I, uh... I left home when I was sixteen and never finished school. I just got my GED last month and I'm starting junior college in the fall. You must think I'm an idiot – I mean, you're a graduate student!"
"Not at all," he countered. "Everyone takes there own path, Megan, and that is nothing to be ashamed of."
"Thanks," she whispered as she playfully knocked her elbow against his. They reached the car at that moment and she felt her jaw slack. "Oh my god, Larry, she's gorgeous." She ran her fingers gently over the hood ornament before curling them gently around her grill. "Can I see under the hood?"
"Normally I'd say no but you obviously have a deep appreciation for her beauty."
"Oh yes," Megan whispered. "Larry, this is in superb condition." He lifted the hood and she breathed deeply as she ran her fingers over the engine. "Beautiful."
"Yes," he agreed as he reached out to tuck an auburn lock behind her ear.
She blushed and turned her head to smile at him. "Future-doctor Fleinhardt, are you hitting on me?"
"No," he gasped and cast his eyes downward. "I would never be so forward as to think that someone like you could find yourself to be compatible with me. You're like the M-57 nebula and I, I... I am merely lucky to be one star of the billions."
"I think you might want to give yourself a little more credit than that," she breathed as she slid up onto the edge of the car. "Drive me home in this beautiful car, Larry Fleinhardt, and you might just get yourself a date for Friday night."
"Won't you have to work?"
She shook her head. "One of the waitresses is a high schooler so she likes to get extra hours in on Friday nights. I'm off by four. I could be ready for our date by six."
"What kind of movies do you like?"
"Don't judge me, okay? Westerns. Blazing Saddles is my all-time favorite movie in the history of ever."
"What is there to judge," he asked with a shrug. "There is a Firefly marathon being played this Friday... Perhaps we could go."
"Sure," she grinned. "What's Firefly?"
He looked at her with jaw slacked. "Only the best space-western to have ever come into existence."
Megan laughed and bowed her head. "Color me intrigued. I would love to go to this Firefly marathon with you."
"Excellent," he whispered and then nodded his head toward the car. "Now lets get you home, sweet one."
She blushed at the pet name but allowed him to help her down and then into the car – never before had a man held the door for her and helped her into a car both in one night. He slid into the driver's seat moments later and she gave him directions to her crappy studio apartment in Mission Hills. She gave him bonus points when he didn't comment on the neighborhood or the fact that most days required three buses for her to get to work. He simply opened the car door for her and walked her up the three flights of stairs to her apartment where she found herself not wanting to say goodbye.
"I wish tomorrow was Friday," she confessed as she dug for her keys in her worn messenger bag.
He smiled. "As do I, Megan."
"Will I see you again before then?" Four days suddenly seemed so long to wait.
"I'm afraid it's highly unlikely due to my TA assignments atop of classwork I have to finish," he told her with a small frown. "Never say never though."
She unlocked her door and then grabbed the order taking pen from her pocket and grabbed his hand. "I know it's terribly cliché but I'm out of paper so unless you want it written on the back of a Chinese food receipt... Call me if you can't get back to the diner before Friday."
He nodded and carefully tucked his now ink stained hand into his pocket before leaning forward to peck her cheek. "I'll see you Friday at six, for sure."
"Friday at six." She waved goodbye and slipped into her apartment, locking the door behind her. She fell back against the scratchy wood and bit her lip before letting out a slight squeal. She could not wait for Friday night at six.