There's warm weather in Denver, which is a rarity. Kyle wishes that he could be out basking in it, soaking up the sun. Instead, he's sitting inside a café, with his binder open in front of him, tapping his pen on the scribbled rough draft of his essay in his spiral notebook, sighing as he looks boredly out of the window with his head in his hand.
At least the café is cosy, and not very busy either. Other than Kyle, there's just an old man reading a newspaper in an armchair in the far corner and a couple of girls giggling in stools at the counter. He's thankful for that. More customers would have meant more noise. The occasional cough from the old man and the hushed gush of gossip from the girls is tolerable noise – there, but not as loud as the sounds of his dorm-mates, and none too distracting. Not that Kyle's focusing much anyway.
Kyle doesn't regret going to college, but it isn't a walk in the park. There's so much work to do, and his latest assignment isn't going too well. This essay just doesn't seem to want to be written. To make matters worse, when he turns his attention back to his work and tries to tear his disaster of a draft out of his notebook, he accidentally knocks his mug over with his elbow. Suddenly, there's coffee all over the table, staining his sleeve and dripping off of the edge, onto his jeans.
"Oh, shoot!" he says, righting the mug as he hurriedly pushes his chair out from under the table, away from the scalding liquid. Alas, he's too late. Those jeans were a fresh pair too. "Great," he grumbles, furrowing his brow as he begins to wipe at the damp, dark stains with the cuff of his sleeve. "Just great."
He can't see how things could get any worse, until he is distracted from his clean-up by the sound of laughter. Looking up, he is devastated to find that his accident was witnessed by a big, brunet barista, tidying some chairs at a table across the way.
"Good going!" the barista cheers, obviously thoroughly amused by Kyle's coffee calamity if his irritating smirk is anything to go by.
Humiliated and frustrated, Kyle shoots him a glare, which sadly doesn't do much to stifle his snickering, before ducking his head, going back to his stain removal. Not much is being removed though. If anything, the stains are just being transferred from his jeans to the cuff of the sleeve he wipes them with. They're being moved more than removed.
"Here," the barista says, suddenly right beside him. Kyle looks up again, his glare at the ready, but shortly it falls off of his face, and he blinks in bewilderment at the sight of a wad of napkins being held out to him.
The barista is still smirking in that way which Kyle feels compelled to punch, but he doesn't look like such a bad guy anymore. Actually, he looks somewhat angelic all dressed in white – white dress shirt, white waist apron, white toothy grin – and the offering of much-needed napkins further convinces Kyle that he's a blessing from the heavens. Kyle takes them gratefully, smiling sheepishly up at the barista, whose nametag he notices says Eric.
"Thanks," he says, going to work at the stains with his new napkin artillery.
"Happens all the time," Eric chuckles, pulling a dishcloth out of his apron pocket. He starts mopping up the mess Kyle made on the table, soaking up the steamy spill. "Sup? Got butter on your fingers?"
"Maybe," Kyle sighs. "Sorry. I was just a little… distracted, I guess."
"Got a lot on your mind?" Eric asks. Kyle nods with a weighty sigh. Does he ever. He's a college student, after all. There's always something on his mind. Eric nods in acknowledgement. "I guess you'll be wanting another coffee? Or has this experience put you off coffee for good?"
"No," Kyle shakes his head. "Another would be good, thanks. And could I have a mug with a weightier bottom?" he jokes. "That way I can't knock it over so easily."
Eric laughs, "Now that'd be something. 'Fraid all the mugs are the same weight. You'll just have to be more careful."
Once he has cleaned up the spill, Eric takes Kyle's mug from him and disappears with it behind the counter across the way. Kyle keeps his eyes on Eric, watching as he busies himself making another coffee. When he's not laughing at others, he actually looks quite cute, with his round ears and chubby cheeks and squashed nose and chocolatey eyes…
Whilst Eric's not looking, Kyle quickly and quietly tries to flatten his hair down, ease the rumples out of his jumper, and wipe his mouth to rid it of any crumbs that could be camping out in the corners. He nervously hopes that he's looking at least half-decent by the time Eric has finished the coffee and is coming back to him.
"What do I owe you?" Kyle asks as Eric sets it down on the table.
Eric winks as he replies, "Just your name."
"Kyle," he says, smiling gratefully, glad not to be charged for his accident. That would have put more of a downer on his day.
"Kyle, ey?" Eric smiles. "Clumsy Kyle. Kyle the Klutz."
"I'm not usually," Kyle huffs, his face falling into a frown.
"Sure, sure," Eric laughs. "So, Klutzy Kyle," he continues, much to Kyle's chagrin, "where are you from? Haven't seen butter-fingers the likes of yours bred around here before."
"I'm from San Francisco," Kyle says, picking absently at a loose,green thread on the cuff of his jumper sleeve.
"San Fran, huh?" Eric muses. "That's where everybody's head is up their ass, ain't it?"
Though there is pomposity where he comes from, Kyle doesn't like his home to be defined by that. He doesn't like to be defined by that, and he shows it by giving Eric an unimpressed look. "Does my head look like it's up my ass to you?"
Eric laughs, "Fair enough. What brings you to Denver?"
"Uh, my best friend," Kyle says. "He used to live in California too. San Fran, with me; then San Diego. But he moved to South Park after his parents split. When I went to visit him there, we'd come out here to Denver sometimes. I liked it here, so I thought it'd be the best environment for my studies."
"Oh, yeah?" Eric pulls out the chair opposite Kyle and settles down in it back-to-front, folding his forearms atop the back of it and leaning forward. "What are you studying?"
"Philosophy," Kyle answers proudly. He may not be a new student anymore, but the novelty of announcing his subject of study hasn't worth off quite yet.
"Why Philosophy?" Eric asks. He seems genuinely interested, and though that's a surprise, it's a pleasant one. Kyle doesn't have many friends in college – he's never really been the making-friends type, preferring to keep himself to himself and be on his own – so it's nice to have a chance to talk to someone for once. Maybe that's why he has no problem opening up to this stranger. He also needs a break from working on his essay, and conversing with Eric is a good enough excuse.
"It's always intrigued me, you know," he says, shrugging. "Existentiality. Why are we here? What is man's great purpose in this world? Is there a purpose?" He chuckles lightly as he recalls the times where he kept Stan up by phoning him in the middle of the night when he was having existential crises. Stan, the poor guy, always stayed up and talked him through them, no matter how tired he was. Actually, Stan is probably pretty relieved that Kyle's being talked down from his crises in his classes now, since it means that he has had to stay up late less and less for those calls.
"Ain't much to it," Eric says, shrugging as well. "You're born, you work, you die. The end."
"Maybe," Kyle says. "Or maybe not. That's why I'm studying it – to find out the truth." He shifts in his seat then, turning more of his body toward Eric, and he asks, "What about you? What do you do?"
Eric smiles amusedly as he silently sweeps his hand through the air, gesturing to the café, and then demonstratively lifts up a corner of his apron.
Kyle laughs, "Yes, okay, I know you work here. But what else?"
"Nothing." Eric throws his arms over the back of the chair again. "This is it."
"What, so your dreams end here? A barista?" Eric shrugs, and Kyle huffs out of dissatisfaction, because there has to be more to Eric than this. "Come on, don't you have any aspirations?"
"Well," Eric drawls, resting his cheek on his knuckle and looking up at the ceiling as he thinks. "I'm an amateur photographer, I guess. If my stuff gets recognised, maybe I can go somewhere with that. It's just a hobby for now though."
"Photographer, huh?" Kyle says, raising his mug to his lips.
"Yup. I've been into photography ever since I was a kid. I like it, y'know. Messing with the lighting and the filters, playing around with perspective. It feels good when you get a good shot."
"I see," is all Kyle can say. He takes a sip of his coffee so that he doesn't have to speak. He hasn't got much to add to that subject. He's never been very artistic or creative, more so leaning toward the logical.
"You should let me take a picture of you sometime," Eric says.
"Er, I'm not very photogenic," Kyle chuckles nervously from behind his mug, thinking of all those past pictures in which he somehow always looks either stoned or bored out of his mind.
"You're pretty cute though," Eric says. His words are most likely insincere – Kyle isn't fond of how he looks, and can't see how anybody else could be – but he feels his face flush regardless. He isn't used to receiving compliments, fake or not, especially from someone so handsome as Eric.
"Uh," he hesitates unsurely, putting his mug down again. "Thanks?"
"So you'll let me take your picture sometime?" Eric leans further forward in his chair. It seems as though he genuinely does want to take his picture. Normally, Kyle would flat-out reject anybody who asked, but he's struggling to say no those big, brown eyes boring hopefully into his, so he just shrugs.
"I don't know. Maybe."
Eric laughs, sitting back again. "I hope so. Y'know, you always come here in the afternoon, and when you sit here by the window, and the sun hits you just right…" Eric holds his hands up to form a rectangle with his forefingers and thumbs, and frames Kyle in the centre of it, much to the redhead's embarrassment. He feels relieved when Eric drops his hands and continues, "Well, it'd make a sweet shot. I've always been meaning to ask you, so it's a good thing you spilt your coffee. Gave me a chance."
Kyle is sure that he resembles a tomato by this point. To think that he's been noticed before – to think that Eric was keeping an eye on him the other times he came here. He's feeling hot, and it's not just because the sun is hitting him just right. He doesn't know what to say, so he picks up his mug once more and gulps more of it down, but he's so flustered that it goes down the wrong hole. He starts choking, adding to his already high level of embarrassment.
"Whoa!" Eric laughs, getting up and going to pat Kyle's back, easing him out of his coughing fit. "You alright?"
"Fine," Kyle wheezes, except that, fuck, no he isn't. He wants the sun to hit him so right that it melts him into a puddle that can be mopped away and never seen again by Eric, who is laughing again, amused by Kyle's blunders.
"So you're not usually a klutz, huh?" Eric grins. "You sure about that?"
"Shut up," Kyle says, though it sounds too weak in his throat to be a threat, and it just makes Eric laugh all the more. He rubs Kyle's back as he does, a subtle comfort.
"Need me to get you some water?" he asks.
Kyle shakes his head. He doesn't need water – what he really needs is for Eric to take his hand off of his back. It's big and warm and gentle and soft and way too damned distracting. Fortunately, he does take his hand off of his back shortly. Unfortunately, it's because the two girls are calling him over, waving their mugs because they want a couple of refills.
"Give me a minute," Eric says, walking away, toward them. "I'll come back to check you're okay. Don't die on me in the meantime, okay?" He laughs like it's a joke, but Kyle does genuinely think that he'll drop dead from humiliation at any minute. And if he doesn't die from that, he entertains the thought of drowning himself in the remainder of his coffee, or stepping outside and standing in the middle of the busy road. That would also give him a good excuse to not hand in his essay.
Discreetly, Kyle keeps an eye on Eric as he serves the girls. It soon becomes apparent that they're attracted to him, playing with their hair and laughing at whatever he says, even if it's not funny. Any other guy might be flattered, but Eric seems quite indifferent to their flirtatious display, just getting on with filling their mugs without accommodating their affections.
Not only that, but in the middle of serving them, he spares a look over at Kyle, who flinches and flushes, cursing himself for getting caught watching. And then Eric smiles at him, and it's so unfair how good he looks, and Kyle can't get a strong enough hold of his nerves to make himself smile back. He just turns to look out of the window, wishing that he could become as transparent as its glass.
"Thanks for not dying on me," Eric says when he returns, taking the seat across from Kyle again. When Kyle turns to face him, he can see the girls jealously pouting at him from behind Eric's back, and it makes him feel a little bit smug. "The press would've been all over my ass," Eric continues. "Breaking News: Cute Redhead Chokes to Death whilst Onlooking Barista Does Nothing."
There Eric goes with that adjective again. God, Kyle is so sick of blushing this afternoon. It's all Eric's fault too, so Kyle huffs, scrunches up a napkin, and lightly throws it at him, making him laugh as it bounces off of his head onto the floor. "Oh, please! As if! It'd be more like, Breaking News: Barista Kindly Administers Caffeinated Euthanasia to Suffering College Student."
"Yeah, I like that one," Eric chuckles, bending down to pick up the napkin. "Paints me in a better light. But suffering?" he asks, sitting up again and starting to juggle the napkin half-heartedly from hand to hand. "College not going so good?"
"When does college ever go good?" Kyle sighs. "We've been given this big assignment, and I'm trying to write this essay, but I just can't word it right."
"Huh," Eric says, picking Kyle's notebook up off of the table and starting to flick through it. "Shit," he laughs after a while, "there's a lot of words here I don't know."
"Yeah, and I probably don't know them either." Kyle slumps forward onto the table, burying his head in his folded arms.
"Well, that's what you get for taking Philosophy," Eric says, snapping the notebook shut and placing it back on the table. Kyle groans, because Eric saying that really isn't helping. Eric laughs, sitting back in his seat and sliding his hands into his apron pockets. "Eh, you'll be fine. If you made it into college, then you must be a nerd, and nerds are always fine."
Well, that wasn't the most comforting thing Kyle's ever heard. It wasn't the least comforting either though, so he sits up again and smiles at Eric. "I hope you're right."
"I am," Eric says without an inch of insecurity. "I'm always right."
Kyle guffaws, "Oh, are you, now?"
"Sure am." Eric sits up too, and puffs his chest out proudly. "I hate to brag," he says, and Kyle severely doubts that, "but I'm quite smart myself. Not a nerd or nothin' though."
Kyle rolls his eyes. Eric's evident arrogance seems like something that could get tiring over time. "Oh, then your brains must be wasted as a barista."
"Damn right they are!" Eric agrees, probably not catching Kyle's sarcasm. "Y'know, I could've got into college. But my mama so poor, children from Africa send her money."
"That's awful!" Kyle says, but he's laughing as he does. Eric smiles wider, patently pleased to have made Kyle laugh at one of his jokes.
"Sad, but true. Seriously, I would've been great in college. Would've graduated top of the class, top of the year, top of everything. Hell, might've gone to the same college as you, even."
"Maybe," Kyle says, picking up his mug again and taking another sip. He's starting to feel sad, thinking that Eric's words could be true, that Eric could have been given more of a chance, and that he could have had him as a college peer and not been so friendless. "You wouldn't graduate top of anything if you were against me in the same college though," Kyle playfully adds, trying to lighten the mood. "I'm quite the competition."
Eric's smile turns into a grin, and he leans forward to ask, "Oh, really? That so?"
"Mhmm," Kyle hums affirmatively, smirking behind his mug, and okay, maybe he is one of those San Franciscans who are up their own asses, damn it. Eric doesn't seem to mind though. In fact, he's visibly bristling at the concept of competition.
"Well, I think you're underestimating me," he says, and Kyle detects a hint of flirtatiousness in his tone. "I'm a tough opponent."
"Well I'm tougher," Kyle insists. He has a right to think so. He was a scrappy kid, always getting into fights, and winning most of them. He's not one for crying or giving up when the going gets tough either. Still, Eric smirks, none too convinced.
"You're not tough," he says. "You're sweet."
At those words, Kyle blushes, and he doesn't know whether it's out of anger at being undermined, or embarrassment at how damned flirtatious Eric is… Or both… No, it's probably the anger. Eric just laughs, finding Kyle's affronted face thoroughly amusing.
"I like your expressions," he says, making Kyle blush even more, and yeah, that's not out of anger. "They're funny. And cute." He leans forward, placing an elbow on the table top and resting his soft chin on the palm of his hand as he gazes at Kyle. "You're cute."
Kyle furrows his brow, because Eric sounds genuine, but he can't be, not when Kyle knows that he isn't cute at all. At least, he doesn't think he is…
"Don't patronise me," he says, frustration in his tone, because he can't work this Eric guy out, what his deal is, what he wants with him.
"I'm not," Eric replies, shaking his head. "I mean it. So let me take your picture sometime."
So that's it, Kyle thinks. Eric just wants him as his definite photography model. Well, Kyle supposes that he hasn't got any qualms with that, if Eric's happy enough with a model like him. And he kind of likes Eric anyway, so he kind of wants to help him however he can. It's why he finally caves with a sigh and nods his head.
"Yeah, okay. You can take my picture sometime."
"Sweet," Eric grins triumphantly, leaning back again. "I'll have my camera ready for the next time you come. Make sure you come on a sunny day, 'kay?"
"So the sun can hit me just right," Kyle murmurs, looking down into the remaining dregs of his coffee.
"That's right," Eric says, and then he jerks in surprise, because he's being called again. Looking over his shoulder, Kyle sees that it's not the girls that time, but a guy who looks to be about Eric's age, although he's way skinnier and lankier, like a twig that could easily be snapped in half. He's wearing an apron too, so he must be a colleague at the café, but he's much less presentable, with clothes covered in coffee stains, and dark rings around his green eyes, and a bad case of blond bedhead.
"Dude," he says, his voice high and panicky, "if my dad sees you sitting around like that, he might fire you, man. Take this job, like, seriously, for once."
"'Course, Tweek," Eric scoffs, "'cause it's somehow better to sit at the counter doing nothing than sit at a table doing nothing."
"Just get over here!" Tweek snaps, attempting to be authoritative. "You're watching the front, I'm watching the back! That was the deal, man!"
"Okay!" Eric grumbles, getting up sluggishly like moving is a bother. "Quit your yappin', I'm comin'." As he stands, he shoots an apologetic smile at Kyle. "A guy can't catch a break here. Always got somebody on my ass."
Kyle smiles too, and shakes his head, somewhat fondly. "He's right, you know. You should be doing your job… And, actually, I should be going now," he says, having just looked at the clock and seen that he needs to get back to his dorm, since Stan is meant to be visiting him that afternoon. He stands up from his seat as well, and starts packing his stuff away into his satchel, which makes him oblivious to the obvious disappointment darkening the features of Eric's face.
"Oh… 'Kay."
"I'll be back on a sunny day though," Kyle says.
"Yeah," Eric says, and then he pauses. For a moment, he looks as though he's about to say something else, but decides against it, as he then turns and goes, but not without a last, lingering look at Kyle, who is still packing away, unaware that a couple of girls couldn't catch Eric's eye for so much as a second, but that pair of brown eyes hasn't left him for several.
By the time Kyle is done and has his satchel strap settled on his shoulder, Eric has given both of the girls' another refill, and is ignoring them once more, in favour of keeping his eyes on Kyle. He ushers him over with a wave of his hand, and Kyle goes curiously, and because he is inexplicably drawn to something about Eric.
"Here's some more napkins," Eric says, handing Kyle a couple over the counter. Kyle doubts that he'll be needing them again anytime soon, but plays along with the joke, taking them whilst laughing good-naturedly.
"Thanks. Might come in handy."
It is not until he has walked outside that Kyle notices the phone number penned into the top napkin, and realises just how handy it might be. His heart skips a beat at the sight of it, and he glances over his shoulder, through the café window. Eric is already looking at him, grinning, and when Kyle's eyes meet his, he winks. And Kyle smiles back at him, because his day just got a whole lot better.
Author's Notes:
You know, when I first started writing for South Park, I swore that I would never write a Coffee Shop AU, since those are so overdone. Yet, here we are now. I gave into temptation. I am weak. And what the heck even is this anyway? I don't know, I don't like it, but I've worked too hard on it for too long to not post it, so here you go. Please forgive the bad writing and how out of character they are. Also, writing in present-tense is not my forte.
Thank you for reading this, and I hope you liked doing so as much as I liked writing it.
Disclaimer: South Park does not belong to me, but to its creators, Trey Parker and Matt Stone.