"I'm just saying, you should check it out! Lots of people are going there. It's the bees' knees." Hank McCoy wiggled his eyebrows at his smaller best friend and picked up the tray of now re-filled salt and pepper shakers, heading over to re-stock the tables.
"Hank the fact that you even refer to anything being 'the bees' knees' is alarming and I'm considering terminating our friendship." Charles smirked at his much taller friend and finished wiping down the counter, mentally storing away their conversation for a later time.
The diner was barely busy, although a 24 hour joint the 3 am shifts were always the slowest. Charles sighed and leaned back against the counter, taking out his phone and messing around with it. Charles and Hank were both students at NYU, both there on scholarships, and both with above a 4.0 GPA. People called them 'The Brain Brothers', mainly because they were never seen without one another and because of the loud debates they would get into about the Mytosis of cells during their lunch breaks in Washington Square Park. They grew up together upstate, applied to school together, and got in together. They lived together, worked together, and studied together. Hank and Charles were bound by a ridiculous tight string of friendship and no one was ever going to change that. Everyone had thought they were a couple until Hank made it perfectly clear that Charles, although incredible handsome and charming, was NOT his type.
Their shift dragged on until 7 am when humanity started to trickle in for their Saturday morning pancakes. By 8:45 the diner was packed and Charles was running around like crazy giving people their food and refilling drinks. At one point he almost impaled himself on a broom handle after a dangerous slip on a pickle but he crisis was quickly averted and he managed to save himself before bleeding out all over the black and white linoleoum flooring. He walked back to the counter and caught Hank staring across the room.
"Hank, stop ogling. You look like a goldfish." Charles smirked and stuffed some more straws into his apron.
"I'm not ogling, but over there keeps looking at you. I...think I'll sit this one out." Hank grinned and gave Charles a nudge toward the blonde customer sitting at the booth across the room. Charles ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair and walked over to the man. "Can I get you something to drink?"
The man smiled slyly, leaning back against the booth, a long stemmed red rose laying on the table next to a hard-cover novel. His blonde hair framed his face perfectly and his tanned skin brought out the grey in his eyes, making him look like some kind of other-worldly creature. As he spoke, the words seems to drip off his tongue in a rich baritone.
"I'll have a cranberry juice. And since you're already here I'll take the house soup as well." He looked at Charles' name tag, "..your name isn't slim."
Charles smirked and picked up the menu from the table. "Your deduction skills are superb, sir." He smiled and turned, walking back to behind the counter where he put in the man's order on the touchscreen computer. Hank literally popped out of nowhere.
"He seems like a briefs kind of guy. I thought boxers at first but now that I'm really looking, I think briefs. Thoughts?"
Charles jumped and then rolled his eyes, smiling. "I was thinking commando, actually. He reeks of over-confidence. Hey, don't you work here? Get the fuck back to work." He gave Hank a shove and laughed.
"Oh, baby I love it when you boss me around." Hank winked and then turned, sauntering off. Charles smiled to himself and worked his way around the room, going back to the kitchen to get mystery man's food and grabbing his drink from the counter. He set everything down in front of him and smiled, resting his hands on his hips. "Anything else I can get for you?"
The man sipped his drink and smiled up at him, looking almost predatory. "You have the most beautiful eyes. They remind me of the ocean in Bermuda. Have you ever been?"
Charles visibly colored. "No...Nope. I haven't. But thank you." He looked over and his eyes rested on the rose, "Who's the rose for?"
The man's smile grew even more, he picked it up and began running his fingers over the petals. He looked at Charles like he was trying to figure something out and then held it out towards him. "You."
Before Charles could respond a deep voice came from the booth behind the man's head, "How much was the bet?"
Rose-Man raised an eyebrow and turned his head to look behind him at the stranger,"Excuse me?"
The stranger turned his head so Charles could see half of an incredibly gorgeous face, the chisled jawline, the accenuated cheekbones and the straight nose of a model, Charles swallowed.
The stranger continued, "How much. was the bet."
Rose-man was now fumbling for his words, visibly put-off by the stranger's accusations, "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"You were in here yesterday, I know because I was sitting behind you then as well, you were with another man and you were betting on how long it would take for you to get into his pants. So tell me. Was it 200 or 500." The stranger was standing now, haven risen to his full height and now was fulling facing Charles, Charles was able to fully take in his appearence. 6'2...brown hair...tapered waist...muscular build...and the bluest eyes he's ever seen. Charles swallowed again, fully aware that everyone in the diner was now watching them. Rose-man stood, not coming up to the strangers full height and got in his face, gritting his teeth he turned at looked at Charles. Charles found his voice and spoke softly. "Which one was it. I'd like to know what I'm worth." The Stranger looked at him with soft eyes before turning back to Rose-man, steeling his expression again. Rose-man smirked and turned, pulling out a 20 dollar bill from his wallet and tossing it on the table. "It was 200." He looked at Charles, looking him up and down before coninuing, "And now I'm thinking it wouldn't have been enough."
Charles' expression crumpled and he looked down at his feet, swallowing. The sound of a struggle made him look up. The stranger was holding the man by his t-shirt, his grip tight and his jaw clenched, he spoke in a low voice, clearly annunciating each word. "Do not. Come back here. Ever." He gave the man one last shove toward the door and then let him go, watching him leave and then turning to Charles, his eyes turning soft again. Charles gave him a small smile. "...Thank you. I'm surprised you said anything at all."
The stranger shrugged lightly and straightened out his leather jacket, running a hand through his hair.
"He needed to be put in his place. No one deserves to be treated like that."
Charles nodded softly and said nothing, glad that the other diner patrons had returned to their own conversations and meals. The two men looked at each other for a few minutes before the stranger nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Have a good one." And with that he turned and walked out of the diner, leaving Charles standing with visible hearts in his eyes and his stomach in knots.