This was uploaded to AO3 a few weeks ago but I was having some trouble. Don't ask. It's here now. Fucking enjoy, I'm on a roll.

Sort of Café AU, came out more a sundae shop slash bakery AU. Idk

I also can't help it with the business name puns based off Pendragon apparently :D

The bell above the door dinged. Bobby quickly shoved his phone in his pocket and whipped around, plastering a giant smile on his face as he did so.

"Hello! Welcome to- oh." He stopped, the fake grin falling. "It's just you."

Spader dropped his bag on the bar counter and plopped into a seat. "Just me? Wow, I feel so appreciated."

"You know what I mean," Bobby said, laughing. "Thought you were a customer. We've had a pretty slow day today and seriously need the money."

"You guys still going through that then?" Spader asked.

"Yeah, unfortunately." Bobby sighed and pulled out his phone again. "My uncle's getting worried we might have to close up shop soon if we don't get any more customers." He idly flicked through his email as he spoke. "He's thinking there might be another place that opened up nearby that people are going to, that's taking business away from us."

"Or it could just be that Starbucks down the street."

Bobby glared. "Okay first of all, Starbucks is for coffee. We're pretty much a glorified ice cream parlor that just so happens to sell baked good on the side. Second of all, fuck you."

Spader shrugged and stood up. "Whatever, mate. I just stopped by to say hi and use your bathroom. I got to get to work soon or me boss'll drown me in the kiddie pool."

He disappeared around the corner into the back and Bobby sighed again. He slumped against the counter, his head in his arms, watching the trees sway in the breeze outside the window. The air conditioning unit turned on, the quiet hum breaking the silence. His phone buzzed next to his head with an incoming message from his friend, Mark. He swiped the screen to open it, when the bell above the door jingled again.

Bobby's head shot up, the phony smile returning. "Hello!" he said brightly. "Welcome to Solara Scoops. Our special today is mint chocolate chip, and every bowl comes with a free croissant on the side, baked fresh this morning. May I take your order?"

The man standing in front of him, bright blue eyes glued firmly to the iPad in his hand, looked so out of place that Bobby almost stumbled giving his well-rehearsed line. He managed to keep on track, and stood in silence with that awful fake grin plastered on his face as the man idly browsed the menu above his head. Bobby tried not to fidget awkwardly when those intense eyes locked on him.

"I'll have the strawberry shortcake, please," he said. "And a cup of Oolong tea, if you don't mind." He didn't catch Bobby's shocked look, as his eyes were already back on his tablet, where he began to type something out. He turned from the counter and went to sit at a table near the window.

Bobby finally jumped into gear and went about preparing the man's tea, then opened the display case and grabbed a slice of the strawberry shortcake, as per the order. He snagged a fork from the bin on his way. Setting down the treat, he said "Here you go, sir. Your tea will be right up."

"Thank you." The man clicked off his tablet and picked up the fork. He looked up. "What are you still doing here?" he asked irritably.

"Oh, sorry!" Bobby rushed away, back to the counter, where he busied himself with the cup and saucer and stuff. He kept sneaking glances up at the man, who still looked like he belonged in one of the Matrix movies, rather than a cheery little ice cream parlor. His dark suit had no visible markings, and long silver hair cascaded down his back. He was missing the black shades, but fit the part other than that. Bobby wouldn't have been surprised if he picked up a phone and disappeared.

The Keurig beeped and Bobby took the cup, walking slowly over to the man's table so as not to spill anything. He set it down and folded his hands behind his back. "Anything else, sir?"

"That will be all. Thank you."

And he was back to being ignored. Bobby was fine with that. He went back to his post behind the counter and busied himself cleaning up, wiping down already-clean counters as he covertly watched the man eat. He kept typing things out on that iPad of his, long fingers flying across the surface. Then he would take a sip of his tea, or a dainty bite of his pastry, and go back to typing. Whatever he was doing must have been important. Maybe he was the CEO of some big company?

Not too much time passed until the man was done. He looked up and caught Bobby's eye - he totally hadn't been staring the whole time - and nodded, signaling he was ready for the check. Bobby brought it over, hands folded politely as the man signed it and dropped some bills onto the counter. He left without a word.

Bobby looked at the name on the receipt. "Saint Dane?" he said. "Huh."

"You've got it bad, mate."

Bobby spun around. He'd forgotten Spader was there. His friend was leaning casually against the door to the back, arms folded and a smirk on his face. "How long have you been standing there?" he asked.

"About ten minutes," Spader replied. "And I wasn't even quiet about it. You've just had your eyes on him the whole time."

Bobby blushed. "Was not!" he complained.

"Was too. Ten minutes at least and you had this dreamy expression on your face the whole time. I'm just surprised he never noticed it."

Now Bobby was horrified. "Oh god, a customer? That's like, so unprofessional. I seriously hope he didn't notice."

Spader laughed. "Yeah, you've got it bad, and you don't even know the guy."

"Well, at least he probably won't be coming back," Bobby said, reassuring himself with that fact. "He's probably some big-shot who just stopped by for a bite to eat on his way to the big city. Who knows."

But he was wrong. Not three days later, the man named Saint Dane was back. Bobby was just scooping some ice cream into a cone for a small, easily-excitable child when the bell above the door jingled. He looked up, standard greeting on his lips, when he was met with those same ice-blue eyes.

"Um, hi," he managed. "Hello. Welcome to Solara Scoops. May I take your order?"

"You are about to drop that."

Bobby caught the ice cream in time, where it had been sliding out of the scoop in his hand. He dropped it in the cone, laughing awkwardly. "One moment, sir."

After serving the table with the ice cream kid, he returned to the counter, where Saint Dane was typing something out on his phone. He slid it into his pocket as Bobby neared.

"Strawberry shortcake, please. And a cup of Darjeeling." The order was out of the man's mouth before Bobby could blink. Saint Dane went to the table at the window - the same one he'd sat in the other day - and sat. This time he didn't have his tablet, so he watched out the window as he waited.

Bobby got the man's order and set it at his table. "Would you like anything else?" he asked politely.

This time, the "No, thank you" was said with a small smile. It dropped off Saint Dane's face right after, but it was a start. Bobby left, feeling something glowing in his chest as he went to serve another customer.

After that, it seemed to become a reoccurring thing. Every few days, Saint Dane would stop by and order the same thing: a slice of strawberry shortcake, and a cup of varying kinds of tea. He almost never spoke to Bobby, apart from the usual polite greetings and thanks as Bobby served him. Sometimes he would stay for a while and take his time sipping his tea, watching out the window as he did so, lost in thought. Sometimes he would be in and back out the door in a matter of minutes, in a hurry for something or another.

Bobby never commented on his choice of dessert, though the thought to do so came up often. In fact, he got close to doing so on multiple occasions. But the question would form, and the man would look up at him with those piercing blue eyes, effectively killing Bobby's vocal chords. He would be forced to retreat to behind the counter for fear of embarrassing himself.

Why did he keep getting so tongue tied? It was just another customer, albeit a regular one. They had regulars all the time here, and Bobby had no trouble talking to them. Was it the fact that Saint Dane still looked out of place amongst the childish ice cream themes and bright colors?

Was it the fact that he was… attractive? Bobby hadn't really looked at older men that way before. Granted, with how perfectly silver Saint Dane's hair was, it was probably dyed. There was no way to tell his real age. Bobby was in his early twenties; he was of age, but it still felt weird that he was - what, crushing on someone? - that was possibly old enough to father him.

Okay, now that things were getting into stranger territories, he decided it was probably time to pay attention to his job.

I can do this. I can talk to him. It's just a simple question asking about what he does for a living. It's not like I'm gonna get down on one knee and ask for his hand, right?

"You look like you're about to propose to someone, you're so nervous."

"Jesus, Spader!" Bobby shrieked, heart jumping into his throat. "Don't do that!"

Spader laughed. "I'm just being myself, mate. You're the exposed wire."

"Fuck off."

Spader laughed again and went to sit at the bar.

"What are you doing?" Bobby asked.

"Sitting back to watch the show," he replied, smirking. "You're gonna talk to him, aren't ya?"

Bobby groaned. Was he really that transparent? "Yeah, sure, I am. You caught me," he said. "Don't say a thing, and don't laugh if I fuck up."

"Gotcha."

Bobby picked up the plate of strawberry shortcake and started towards Saint Dane's table, then stopped. "Bail me out if I start to fuck it up too badly?"

Spader shrugged. "If it stops being funny and starts being pitiful, sure."

Bobby glared, but sighed and turned back. That's as good as he'd get.

The distance to the table seemed to loom in front of him, miles of floorspace to trip or stumble or fall on. He tried not to seem to eager, but still managed to cover the space in record time, and without tripping- a fact he was rather proud of. He carefully sat the plate down in front of Saint Dane. The man clicked off his iPad, where he'd been typing something out, and picked up his fork.

"Thank you."

That was Bobby's usual dismissal. He fought the urge to retreat and stayed put. When Saint Dane looked up at him, brow raised and clearly asking for an explanation for his continued presence, Bobby opened his mouth to speak.

And found words had escaped him. Again. He swallowed past the lump in his throat and managed to squeak out "H-Hi."

The man's expression remained unchanged, unimpressed. Bobby tried again.

"Hello. I, uh, was wondering if I could ask you something…?"

"You just did."

Okay, clearly the man had some sort of sense of humor. Dry. "I mean, something else. I-uh, I was wondering, wheredoyouwork?" The last part came out rushed, and Bobby almost smacked himself. Nice way to screw up your first real conversation with the guy, Pendragon.

It seemed to amuse Saint Dane, who gave a small, condescending smile, and replied "I work with the company Ravinia Enterprises. No, I'm not wearing a uniform, in case you were wondering."

Bobby was about to ask about his all-black suit, but was cut off with the answer before he could get the words out. Man, this guy was good. "Oh, that's cool," he said instead. "I mean, there's nothing wrong with wearing all black, I was just curious. Because, you know, with how you dress and how you act, it's just kinda weird that you always come here and order strawberry shortcake." He laughed awkwardly, face heating up as Saint Dane's eyebrow raised higher. "I-I mean, there's nothing wrong with liking strawberry shortcake! It's a really delicious treat, a-and it seems to be your favorite, so, uh, g-good for you!" Smacking of face was imminent. Spader please hurry up and SAVE ME.

But now Saint Dane was chuckling. Chuckling. Like some cheesy Bond villain. Except way more attractive. "Are you quite alright?" he asked.

Bobby gave in and slumped in the chair across from the man, banging his head on the table. "No," he murmured. "I don't know what I'm doing. I'm sorry."

Saint Dane chuckled again. "How about we start over?" He held out his hand. "Hello. My name is Saint Dane. And you are?"

Bobby blushed and averted his gaze, but took the man's hand anyways. "I'm Bobby. Bobby Pendragon."

Saint Dane's hand was cold. Or maybe that was just the flush on Bobby's cheeks heating the rest of his body. The man's grip was firm, though as Bobby went to pull away, he felt his hand being drawn closer.

Saint Dane raised Bobby's fingers to his lips. "A pleasure to meet you," he said, cold lips ghosting across the back of his hand. Bobby's face was probably glowing at this point, with how red it was, but Saint Dane gave no indication he noticed. Instead he flashed a dazzling smile.

At that moment, looking into the man's intense, brilliant blue eyes, Spader's words from some weeks ago echoed in Bobby's mind, and he knew now more than ever that they were true.

He had it bad.