Thank you my beautiful beta THOSEstories for my short noticed request! Love you.

Annnd thisiswhereilivenow and guardian-of-the-knitting, here you go (finally). Love you guys too.

AU of course. In a coffee shop. Because I've read too many band fanfictions. Oh and language warning. And updates every Friday. WOO!

Garrett POV

I was happy. Or so I tried to tell myself. All I had to my name was a coffee shop and a few cheap fucks, but I was happy. If happiness wasn't judged by possessions, love, money or personal worth, but rather by self-fulfilment, then I could be considered happy. I didn't rely on others but had a few good friends for when the need arose, the local bar satisfied my sex drive and the window at the front of my shop provided the perfect opportunity for my favourite hobby; people watching.

Being situated directly across from the local hospital meant that people from all walks of life moved up and down the street. I saw everything; old ladies, pregnant teenagers, businessmen, whores – businessmen with whores – father and sons, cab drivers, sports stars, your next door neighbour, the typical goths, skaters and pretty boys, everything, really. I was sure I had seen it all.

Until the first day I saw him.

My throat became tight the moment he smiled, glancing up at someone who'd accidently knocked into him. They scowled back but it didn't deter him, he still smiled and sat on the step near the road, far more gracefully than I expected. His movements were fluid and I couldn't look away from the boy who cant have been more than twenty. He was gorgeous; everything about him shone so brightly, almost as if he was filled with light. Perfect smile, perfect posture, perfect figure, perfect…he was just perfect. He glanced up at my window suddenly, almost like he felt my eyes on him, but I didn't look away, almost hoping he'd see me. He didn't acknowledge it if he did, just looked down again. The way the sun shone through his hair made it seem lighter than I'm sure it actually was, giving the blond a gold hue as it fell over his face, his elegant fingers trying to push it back again. My golden boy. I wished I knew his name; it would have to be pretty too. As pretty as he was.

I hadn't realised how long I had been staring until the man in front of me cleared his throat and I found myself unusually flustered, burning my fingers several times while I hurriedly poured his drink, shoving his piece of cake at him and wishing him a nice day as quickly as I could just so I could return to watching him.

He smiled again as one of those little brown birds fluttered close to him – pigeons? I didn't know. The common ones – and tossed it a piece of food. As his body shook slightly I imagined him laughing and tried to picture the sound, my entire body longing to hear it. Maybe I could make him laugh. Every innocent thought I'd had about him flew out the window as he slid his finger into his mouth, presumably to sooth a scrape, but all I could think of was what else he could wrap his lips around…what else he might prefer to suck on. Suddenly I found myself hating what I found cute minutes before – long sleeves prevented me from seeing more of the golden boy, depriving me of even the most childish of fantasies, just touching him. It didn't stop me from dreaming though. I would undress him several times before the end of the day, each getting more and more erotic. Maybe this golden boy would also be a perfect kisser, maybe he went to the gym, maybe pulling off his shirt would be easy but the zipper on his pants would stick, requiring me to gently tug it down with my teeth-

"Garrett."

I jumped, the cup in my fingers falling to the ground and smashing against the tiles. "Fuck, Alistair, warn me next time, will you?" I grumbled.

"I've been standing here for five minutes, dickhead," he snickered, pushing me. "Who are we staring at, anyway?" He lent over the counter to peer out the window.

"No one. Fuck off."

He smirked. "I didn't know sparrows amused you so thoroughly, my friend."

So that's what those damn birds were called. "Shut up." Feeling oddly possessive, I pressed my lips against his, trying to distract him from staring at my boy.

He shoved his tongue into my mouth before pulling back. "The cute little medic, huh? Your next Friday night? What if I get there first?"

"The cute little medic is mine," I hissed, kissing his neck anyway.

"Hmm, he's kinda hot. You'd better hurry up, Garrett."

The kiss turned into a bite, electing a yelp from him as he shoved me back into the wall.

"Don't be a fuckhead."

"Don't touch him until I'm done, deal?" The growl came out harsher than I expected, but Alistair didn't flinch.

"Fine. He'll be begging for some decent sex by the time you're done with him, anyway." He grabbed the collar of my shirt and pulled me closer again. "You on lunch break yet?"

"Of course." I flicked the open/closed sign, closing the door and stopping any customers from entering.

"Good." He didn't even wait until we'd made it up stairs into the living area of my building; apparently the staircase was far enough and his hands were already undoing my belt. "You're going to forget all about that cute medic boy after this, trust me," he promised, his tongue against my skin.

"Fuck me…" I hadn't meant it as instructions, but his hand down the back of my pants was enough to make my brain scatter.

"Of course," he laughed anyway, bringing our lips together again. "What did you think I was going to do? Take your temperature?"

Cheeky bustard.

Alistair and I weren't lovers. He was my best friend and there were certain…benefits to our relationship. Spontaneous sex was one of them. A drinking partner on a Friday night was another. It was just that being in a relationship was off the table for both of us, and picking up a girl – or boy for that matter – at a bar wasn't always convenient. At least things with him were exciting; there were no set roles or rules, it was always just whatever we felt like doing. And despite what anyone said, it was never awkward in the morning; Alistair was still Alistair, and I was still me. No big deal.

Except Alistair didn't make me forget about my golden boy. In fact it was quite the opposite. I found myself picturing him instead, pretending that it was him I was showering with, him that I was making coffee as we pretended nothing had happened, him that I was looking out the window with at an empty step…I missed the boy I had never spoken to.