Title from "This is the Night" by The Weird Sisters (though I'm much more fond of the Frog Choir version)

This probably makes more sense if you've read Wizard Love first, but you do you!

A wee oneshot I wrote for Willex Week 2021 (AU Day)

1.

It's not that Alex doesn't notice the beautiful guy on his first shift. Because he does. How could he not? But at the time, he's a bit more focused on trying not to break the entire Wizarding World theme park with his sheer incompetence. (And the scale of that worry does feel completely reasonable, thank you very much, Luke.) So Alex doesn't really notice Beautiful Guy until the BIB incident.

It's his seventh shift, which feels way too early in his food service career for a lead to snap, "Go fix the bibs right now!" and refuse to offer any further explanation. As if "fix the bibs" is a sentence that makes obvious sense and anyone who doesn't understand it is embarrassing themselves. But that's Caleb during a lunch rush. Snappy and unhelpful.

From context, Alex figures that "bib" probably has something to do with Butterbeer, and he has vague, unhelpful memories of Mrs. Harrison showing them the drinks room during training. So he finds his way down to the lower level of the kitchen and over to the room tucked away in a back corner. But he's not really prepared for what it feels like to be in that room without the comforting presence of other, equally nervous new employees beside him.

The shelves that line the walls are stuffed with small cardboard boxes, with each box on the top shelf hooked into tubes that disappear into the walls, presumably leading off to the Butterbeer carts and the restaurant upstairs. The whole room vibrates with a loud hum, like the machines are screaming as they desperately try to transfer the beverages fast enough to keep pace with the insatiable thirst of the guests.

Staring around at all the tubes, Alex can't contain the shiver down his spine. Something about the complexity of the wiring system in the relatively small room makes him feel like he's been trapped in some sort of genetically engineered monster from a science fiction novel. Or like he's being eaten by Aragog or swallowed by the Devil's Snare or…

Fuck, Luke is rubbing off on him. He's making dorky references again.

Averting his eyes from the inexplicably creepy tubes, Alex makes his way along the row of drinks, reading the different drink names as he searches for the cold and frozen Butterbeer. Halfway down the line, he comes across a cold Butterbeer box housing an empty silver bag. Okay, so this is probably one of the "bibs" that needs replacing. But… how the fuck is he supposed to do that? The tube hooks into the box with a… fancy round thingy that's attached to a flat thingy, and there's no obvious way to detach this whole… connector thingy from the box. He tries to pull at the connector, but the box holds onto the tube with a very determined grip. He yanks it again, and the box almost jumps off the shelf.

Alex flinches back with a yelp. He has a sudden flash of the tube breaking and the drinks room rapidly filling with frothy cold Butterbeer and Caleb running in to yell at him for flooding the entire kitchen and Alex getting fired as the entire theme park dissolves in butterscotch and shortbread flavored soda and—

"You okay there?"

Alex leaps away from the Butterbeer box like it's on fire. Beautiful Guy stands in the doorway with a concerned, but cheerful grin.

Crap.

Why now, when Alex is on the precipice of causing a disaster?

"Um…" All he can do is point a finger at the box. "If I break that, am I going to flood the park?"

Beautiful Guy laughs. An easy laugh, not a mocking laugh. The kind that doesn't make Alex feel ridiculous for having asked. "Nah, that BIB's empty. And until the syrup gets up the line to the dispensing valves, it's not really in a flooding form."

"Right, of course." Alex realizes on a delay that he has no idea what any of that meant. One confusing word? He could fake understanding. But four? Maybe he should just embrace being new and having the excuse to ask. "What's a BIB?"

With a beam, Beautiful Guy slides over to him, like he's gliding across the room on a skateboard. As soon as he's close enough, he raps his knuckle on the box that Alex is mauling. "Bag-in-Box. Cause, ya know. It's a box with a bag of syrup in it."

"Oh. Feels like I should have guessed that." But then Alex lets himself linger on the name for a moment and shakes his head. "Actually, I think they should feel ashamed of how terrible the name is."

"Yeah, it's a pretty shit acronym." Beautiful Guy flicks his eyes up and down Alex, and the casual intensity of his appreciative gaze makes Alex feel decidedly wriggly. "Alex, right?"

Um. Beautiful Guy knows his name? "How did you know?"

The guy dashes his eyebrows at him. "Nametag." Coming from anyone else, it would sound dismissive or mocking. But the slow way the word comes out and the borderline sultry tone he uses makes it feel like it's not a dig. It's just a straightforward answer to the question.

"Oh" is all Alex can manage. He ticks his eyes to Beautiful Guy's nametag. "Willie."

Willie's face crinkles up into a wink. "Good guess."

Being on the receiving end of that wink is a lot. Alex can feel that he's making that deer in headlights expression that Luke sometimes teases him about, and he tries to quietly funnel air out of his chest to calm himself down.

Luckily, Willie doesn't seem to notice, because he's busy turning back to the BIB. "You done these before?"

"No." Alex tugs on the tube syrup line, jolting the box on the shelf again. "And for some reason, that doesn't seem to be working."

Willie chuckles for a second before he leans over and stage-whispers, like he's sharing the world's most boring secret, "You gotta open the line valve before you can remove it."

"Right." Alex nods, as if he obviously knows what a line valve is because who wouldn't know what a line valve is. But from Willie's twinkling eyes, he doesn't pull it off. "I didn't realize this whole thing was so complicated. Here was me thinking soda machines were just full of soda."

Throwing back his head and laughing, Willie's whole body seems to wriggle with joy. "I know, right? Like, now that I work here, it's obvious that those machines aren't big enough to hold all this." He gestures around the room. "Just never thought about it before."

There are limits to the amount of small talk Alex can make about BIBs, and a brief silence hums between them. Normally, he hates moments of silence because he hates awkwardness in any form. Hates the way it prickles at his skin like angry claws that will start to bury into him if he lets them stay there for too long. But this silence feels strangely comfortable and companionable. He doesn't want to let himself examine the why of that too closely, so instead he cuts off the silence with the first words that come to mind. "From now on, I think I'll feel too guilty to ever order soda from anywhere ever again. Now that I know what goes into it," he gestures at the BIB in front of them, "I don't want to make anyone else do this."

Willie's grin grows, but Alex isn't entirely sure why. Is Alex's inability to not overthink everything charming? But before he can try to decipher the smile, Willie hops forward and slides his fingers over the connector thingy with ease.

"So changing the BIBs is actually pretty easy once you get the hang of it. You gotta pinch the line valve with your thumb and pointer like this. Push down with your thumbs while you pull back with your pointers, see?" Alex bobs his head as if he's actually paying attention to anything other than how close Willie is standing and the welcoming sparkle in his eyes and the faint, confusingly pleasant scent of Butterbeer on his skin. Their eyes meet across the syrup line for a long moment before Willie murmurs, "And keep pushing until it…" The valve pops open with a sharp click, and Alex jumps, breaking their gaze.

Willie laughs, that same easy sound that somehow doesn't make Alex feel self-conscious. Like Willie is just… enjoying him. Which is obviously absurd, because look at his face? How could someone with that face be enjoying Alex?

Pulling the empty BIB loose, Willie chucks the box across the room into a bin in the corner. Then he turns back to Alex with his arms spread wide, like he's ready to take a bow. "Now it's your turn."

"My what now?"

"Put in a new one."

Oh god. Alex eyes the new BIB like it's a Blast-Ended Skrewt. Just because Willie thinks that it's impossible to flood the drinks room doesn't mean it can't be done. He hasn't seen Alex do things. If there is one thing Alex feels very confident about, it's that he can screw anything up.

But Willie's gaze is steady and unflinching, so Alex slides a new cold Butterbeer BIB onto the top shelf. At least the "press with thumb" instruction is clearly labelled. Alex pushes open the front of the box to reveal the bag, then tugs the bag spout out so it rests outside the box, making the BIB look more like its neighbors.

Okay, so far so good.

But then he looks from the bag spout to the line valve and… how on earth is he supposed to connect those two?

Without saying a word, Willie reaches over and peels the plastic cap off of the spout.

"Oh. Right. That was obvious."

Willie grins again and leans his shoulder against the shelf. "Nah."

Stop smiling back at him, be calm, be chill, be cool.

Alex carefully slides the valve around the spout. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Willie nod approvingly. Okay, he's got this, he's got—

He tries to push the valve closed, but it stays firmly open. "It's not, uh…"

"Needs more force. Push with your palm."

Alex presses gently on the valve, trying not to break the plastic and flood the room and get fired and—

"Here." Willie glides his hand over top of Alex's and pushes down. Alex's brain immediately turns off. The soft, warm palm gently presses down on the back of his hand and the valve slides shut, emitting two loud clicks. Emitting a pleased smirk, Willie waggles his eyebrows. "Good job. The Butterbeer's flowing."

And indeed, the syrup line instantly fills with amber liquid, the syrup already traveling up to the carts to be converted into Butterbeer.

On a delay, Willie withdraws his hand and smiles at Alex. Somewhere deep in his chest, Alex feels a fluttering. The kind of delicate, childish, nervous energy he hasn't really experienced since middle school. He tries to swallow the sensation with an awkward bob of his throat, but it stays there, stuck between his ribs, making him far too aware of his extremities.

A work crush? No, thank you. Body, please calm down.

But then Willie nods at Alex's rainbow thread bracelet, which peeks out from under the sleeve of his work shirt. "Nice." The word carries a weight that brings a smile to Alex's lips.

The smile slips as he remembers the long dress code they got during training. "Oh crap. They said you aren't supposed to wear any jewelry when you're doing food service, right?"

"I won't tell anyone," Willie murmurs, shooting Alex a wink that kicks the fluttering in his chest into overdrive. Then the beautiful guy nods around the room. "See? BIBs aren't so bad. Order all the soda you want."

"Cold or frozen?"

… He's barely been here a week. How has he already internalized the script? And why did he not stop himself from saying it aloud like a giant dork?

But Willie laughs and checks over his shoulder before he confesses, "I don't actually like Butterbeer."

"Are you allowed to work here and not like Butterbeer?"

"What can I say? I'm a rebel." Alex grins at the reference and Willie shoves himself off the shelf. "I gotta get to dry storage. You good to check the rest of them?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm really good. … I mean, I'm the normal amount of good. Just… I'm good."

Once again, Willie flicks his eyes over Alex's face, and Alex can only hope that he's not turning pink. "Good." The word slides out of Willie's lips like melted butter and oh god, Alex's cheeks feel warm. He's definitely pink, isn't he? "Stick with me. I'll steer you right."

"I can be steered."

No.

Why.

What on earth just came out of his mouth?

But Willie doesn't seem to mind. Tossing out a final grin, he says, "See you around, Alex." His eyes linger on Alex's nametag for another moment before he waggles his eyebrows and disappears out of the drinks room, leaving a breathless Alex in his wake.

2.

The scheduling office is definitely against joy and love. Everyone who works at Potter agrees. Somehow, someone in the scheduling office knows who everyone likes and dislikes, and schedules them in the worst way possible. Want to work with your friend or crush? Nope. You're going to work every single shift with your arch work nemesis instead.

So Alex doesn't really work with Willie, especially because the beautiful guy seems to work almost exclusively on register in the Three Brooms. Which, by Potter standards, means that he is very competent and hardcore. And now that Alex knows that, he's retrospectively even more embarrassed that Willie had to hold his hand through changing the BIBs.

Part of Alex is sad that they don't work together, because Willie is cute and calming and basically the only person Alex has ever met who hasn't made him feel like his anxiety is an irritation or a burden. But it's also a bit of a relief, because Willie is undeniably cool, in the way that only people who genuinely don't care about being cool can be. And in the very brief interactions that Alex has had with him in the couple of months since the BIB incident, the unabashed coolness of Willie has made Alex fall to pieces in his proximity. Spilling stuff on himself. Forgetting basic things about doing their job. Failing to express coherent thoughts or have any thoughts at all.

So being paired with him on Butterbeer 2 is a dream and a nightmare, even if they're only working together for the brief twenty minutes at the end of Willie's shift after he's cashed out his own register on Butterbeer 1.

A dream because it's Willie and he's pouring for Alex, standing close enough that he can feel the warmth of his shoulder.

A nightmare because Alex is working register next to this register god. Which feels a bit like if he, someone who in no way plays the guitar, stole Eric Clapton's Stratocaster and subjected him to an incompetent private concert.

As much as Willie doesn't seem like someone who is judgmental, Alex has a hard time believing that that's how he actually feels. How could you watch someone be a disaster—especially at something you do well—and not be judgmental? So Alex is hyperfocused on inputting every order into the register perfectly and counting out the perfect change and interacting perfectly with the guests… and he doesn't notice the penny crisis until it's too late.

As he scoops the current guest's change from the drawer, Alex realizes he's just cleared out the last of the pennies from the slot.

Oh god.

Oh no.

What a rookie mistake.

It's Being on Register 101 to keep an eye on how much change is left in the drawer. When any denomination starts to run low, he's meant to flag down a lead and hand them some of the bigger bills so that they can get change from the cash center. Alex is normally so panicked about getting anywhere near low that he's overly cautious—the instant that there are only half as many of the smaller bills or coins than he started with, he gets a lead.

But he's been so focused on impressing Willie that he didn't notice the dwindling store of pennies.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Willie's head snaps over to him, which is when Alex realizes that he's been muttering "fuck" aloud. "What's up?"

"Running low on pennies," is all Alex can grit out before he forces a bright smile and hands the guest their change.

"How low?"

Alex holds up a polite "just a minute" finger to the next guest and turns back to Willie.

Which is a huge mistake, because the full midday sun shining on his face just highlights how beautiful and cool and confident he is, which is a lot to be on the receiving end of. By comparison, Alex feels awkward and weird and incompetent and how on earth did he not track his till better?

He can't bring himself to utter the embarrassing words aloud, so he just gestures at the drawer.

To his credit, Willie's eyebrows only jump up for a brief moment, before they immediately smooth down. "We'll flag Lessa. In the meantime, just say we're only taking card."

Alex skips his eyes down the very long line of guests and trembles. The main thing he's learned while working here is that a surprising number of people still like to pay with cash. Especially tourists who are, very reasonably, trying to avoid overseas card charges. Telling anyone who's been standing in that line that they'll have to go elsewhere is mildly terrifying.

He doesn't want to be yelled at. Not over Butterbeer.

A soft nudge at his forearm brings Alex back to the present. He looks over to find Willie's elbow tapping him, gently trying to tug him out of his mental spiral. "It's gonna be fine. Tell them Voldemort stole all the dubloons from the Gandalf bank or something."

But the nonsense of the sentence doesn't permeate Alex's panic. The cold sweat building up on the back of his neck makes his whole body itch with dampness and nerves and worry as his brain starts to draft the furious comment cards he'll get from angry guests—

"Hey. Alex." Willie's voice cuts through the noise. "I promise it's fine. Happens all the time."

"What if they get mad that they have to—"

"Go to another line and wait five extra minutes for Butterbeer? They're in the happiest place on earth. They'll deal." Willie says it firmly, but Alex knows it's not that simple. Has had interactions with guests that leave him feeling nauseated and small, has been screamed at over company policy he doesn't control, has seen other employees get dressed down by the managers on an angry guest's behalf.

But none of that can be said aloud, especially not with an impatient guest an arm's distance away, so Alex blurts out the first thing that comes to his head. "The happiest place on earth is Disneyland."

Willie shrugs easily. "Okay, the most magical place on earth."

"That's Magic Kingdom."

Oh god, why is he such a dork? But Willie chuckles and nudges Alex's forearm again. "You know your theme park slogans. What's ours?"

"Fuck J.K. Rowling."

It's not clever, and they're definitely not supposed to swear in earshot of the guests, but Willie's smile slides up with a firmer, fiercer edge, like he takes furious pleasure in both Alex's words and the confirmation of Alex's stance. "I like that one."

The combination of Willie's smile and his unwavering approval gives Alex the confidence to exhale a forcibly calming breath, turn to the line, and announce loudly, "Unfortunately, the Ministry is not allowing me to take Muggle cash at this time, so we are only accepting card payments. If you want to pay by cash, please go to the other line, or to the other Butterbeer cart across from the Three Broomsticks. We apologize for the inconvenience."

There are a couple of groans and a handful of disgruntled bodies shifting out of line, but not anywhere near the furious mass exodus/riot that Alex had feared.

He can't help but glance back at Willie, and Alex is startled by the look on his face. Almost like unabashed appreciation, but… directed at Alex? Can't be.

"What?" Alex asks.

"You know your Potter stuff." Willie's voice is warm, like it's a real, genuine compliment instead of something Alex should feel embarrassed about. And for a split second, Alex feels like a register god.

In the face of that, it's hard to care too much about his screw-up. Alex huffs out a bashful grin and then spins back to the next guest.

"Cold or frozen?"

3.

If there's one thing about working at Potter that Alex feels strongly about, it's that he has no business being on register at the Three Brooms. Register is bad enough to work when he's on carts, where Alex has memorized the location of almost all the buttons on the screen. He only gets lost when someone dares to order a non-Butterbeer drink and he actually has to read the screen for a second to find the right button. That's uncomfortable enough—being hyperaware of the scrutiny of the guests' gaze and the obviousness of his own panic. His mind always fills with scenarios, mentally writing the nasty reviews guests will leave. "My day at the park was wonderful, except for that guy who took four seconds to find the pumpkin juice button on the register. Ruined my once-in-lifetime experience!"

And that's when he's working with a limited onscreen menu. A short selection of drinks and a standard order.

But register at Three Brooms? It's for people who have offensively high levels of self-confidence and enjoy extreme sports. The Three Brooms register is an aggressive sea of buttons and subcategories of food that he doesn't understand and as he wanders his fingers aimlessly through the giant onscreen menu, all he can think is that he doesn't know what food is anymore or what words even mean.

And it's a thousand times worse because, not only are the guests watching him with intensely judgmental expressions, but Willie is at the register next to him. With no guest of his own to distract him from witnessing Alex's incompetence.

Alex directs a nervous giggle at the guests. "Sorry, just a moment. The hot dogs are hiding."

He clicks desperately through the menu, searching frantically for the words "hot dog." If only he could just cast Accio at the screen and summon the button.

… wait, magic doesn't exist.

How is he such a disaster?

Willie leans over and stage-whispers, "Actually, I just sold the last hot dog. We're all out."

It's only then, as Alex opens his mouth to tell the guests, that he remembers. They don't sell hot dogs. No part of Potter sells hot dogs. They've never sold hot dogs. What on earth is he doing?

He's not entirely sure how he gets through the sale, but it's only after the guests drift toward their drinks window that he turns to Willie. "I can't believe I forgot the entire menu."

"Happens to the best of us," Willie says easily. Then his eye twinkles. "… hot dog."

Alex doesn't stick his tongue out at Willie, because he's not Luke and he's dignified when he's talking to someone he's trying to flirt with. "I don't like that nickname," he mumbles. "It's still fresh." Willie winks playfully, which gives Alex the courage to ask, "Why didn't you just say we don't sell hot dogs?"

"Rat you out to a customer? Never."

"I've definitely seen you do that before." Alex winces as soon as the words come out. Why is he admitting that he pays attention to Willie? Don't be creepy, dude.

But Willie grins. "Just with Caleb and Carrie. Only gonna shame someone in front of a customer if it's good for their personal growth."

"And it's not good for my growth?"

Willie flicks his eyes up and down Alex with that look that makes him feel warm and self-conscious in the softest way. "Nah, you seem perfect as is."

Alex has no idea how to respond to that while retaining his dignity, but "You too" stumbles out of his lips before he can stop himself.

Willie's whole face fills with a grin. Checking that there's no line of incoming guests by the pulse, the beautiful guy leans in closer. "The trick to register in the Three Brooms is… You know when you're doing expo and you get in this completely calm zone of 'whatever happens happens—we can only do it as fast as we can do it?'"

"Yeahhh, no. I'm basically constantly stressed when I'm on expo. I think I get through it because, like, it's either put food on trays or have a panic attack. Like I'm trying to make myself so busy that I can't hyperventilate?"

Oh crap. Was that an embarrassing thing to admit? Oversharing? Weird? But Willie offers him an encouraging smile. "So, like, anxiety is kinda your superpower."

"Um, superpower is a strong word," Alex squeaks out. "It's more like… a lot of my life is built around trying to outrun a panic attack. And sometimes the outrunning isn't healthy, but other times it's…"

"Productive?"

"Yeah." Alex ticks his eyes over Willie's face, searching for the judgement he's sure must be there, but Willie just looks thoughtful.

"Okay, so maybe register is the same for you."

But Alex shakes his head. "There's no guests on expo. Here, I'm terrified of the guests thinking I'm incompetent."

Willie leans in even closer, and it feels like this is probably too close and Caleb is going to appear at any moment yelling about PDA, but… this isn't PDA, right? A cute guy standing too close to Alex isn't actually PDA. "Little tip about the customers. I once had someone ask if there was fish in the fish and chips. Don't bother trying to impress them. Customers are like that Dr Suess thing—the ones who mind don't matter, and the ones who matter don't mind."

"There's probably a Dumbledore quote for that," Alex blurts out, because apparently Luke has turned him into a giant dork.

An expression slides onto Willie's face, one that seems so unaccustomed to being there that it takes Alex a moment to recognize it as bashful. "Don't tell anyone, but I've never even seen the movies."

"They let you work here?"

"I exist in society. I knew enough to pass the Potter quiz during the interview." Alex raises an eyebrow, and Willie tosses up a conciliatory shrug that makes his eyes roll in a mischievous confession. "Okay, I looked stuff up."

"It was a verbal quiz. How did you—?"

Willie nods at his phone, hiding out of sight under the register, and waggles his fingers. "Fastest fingers in Fake Scotland. What about you?"

"My fingers are regular," why on earth did he say that? "but I used to be really into Potter and it turns out that hating… Her doesn't automatically delete the decades' worth of references I have stored in my brain."

"Really annoying how brains do that, isn't it?"

"Remember stuff I hate? Yeah, it's a terrible feature."

Willie laughs and briefly grabs Alex's arm again, holding onto him as he laughs. And Alex knows that that could just be him being friendly, but… the laugh fades off of Willie's face before he removes his hand, and Alex can't stop the kick of excited jitters in his gut at the potential implications.

On instinct, he releases a long, soothing breath to calm his nerves. It's the first time he's been nervous at work for a positive reason, and those jitters just get worse when Willie's face soothes into a softer smile than any he's unleashed before. The kind of smile that feels like it means something a bit more than Friendly Coworker. The kind of smile that's followed up with a sweet "You're gonna do fine, Hot Dog."

And for once, Alex believes him.

+1

After six weeks of dating, Alex is starting to learn his boyfriend's body language. So even though he's never seen Willie nervous before, when Alex clocks the way Willie is rubbing his thumb over his elbow, he recognizes it for the self-soothing gesture it is.

As he crosses the Three Brooms, Alex slows his step for a moment, studying his boyfriend on control. It's the first time he's ever seen Willie look out of place. He normally has this magical ability to just fit in everywhere, like his laidback nature renders him into a pliable putty that instinctively knows what each space needs and adjusts to fill it.

But he's never been on control before.

Willie raises a tentative arm, holding up four fingers and waiting for one of the bussers to notice and come seat the family of four hovering behind him. But the bussers aren't looking at control. As Willie's face twists up into something serious and nervous, his free hand jumps to his raised elbow, rubbing it to self-soothe again. A busser glances his way, but Willie doesn't step forward, make eye contact, demand to be paid attention to. His presence isn't commanding enough.

His wonderfully laidback and chill boyfriend is too laidback and chill to be an effective control. Alex's heart melts in his chest.

With a hopefully soothing grin, he skips forward and quirks his head. "How did you get on control?"

"Caleb's still punishing me for 'being unprofessional,'" Willie sighs loudly, as if his punishment is very unfair.

On principle, Alex doesn't ever want to agree with his least favorite shift lead, but Alex and Willie making out in a closet during the lunch rush a few weeks ago probably was unprofessional. On a personal note, Alex only cares that they were being dicks to their coworkers, but on a technical note, it was also unprofessional.

But the lead has been keeping them apart on shift ever since, and Alex is never going to tell Willie that he agrees with Caleb. "You doing okay?"

Willie glances back at the growing line of guests behind them and winces. "None of the bussers are paying attention."

"You have to make them pay attention."

"How? Scream?"

"This isn't a museum." Alex shoots him an exasperated smile, but then he steps into the restaurant with purpose, holds his hand up high, and uncurls four firm fingers.

Carrie, the nearest busser, immediately looks over, spots Alex's hand, searches for a four-person table, and strides over to them. But before she can address the guests, Alex cuts in. "Can you remind zones 1 to 3 that they need to keep an eye on control?"

She crosses her arms and lifts a defiant chin. "I'm zone 3."

"And you're not keeping an eye on control."

Carrie raises an eyebrow, and if there weren't an entire family right next to them, she would probably bite his head off. But Alex raises a matching eyebrow, and if there's one thing Carrie respects, it's someone serving her bullshit right back to her.

"Fine," she cuts out, with a grudging smile to the corner of her mouth. Then she spins to the guests. "Follow me. I'll seat you."

As the family trots away, Alex turns back to his boyfriend. "You have to be forceful. Make the bussers pay attention to you. Remember, you're the one in—"

"Control?" Willie guesses.

Alex huffs out a shy laugh. "Yeah."

Willie flicks his eyes appreciatively up and down Alex, before he drawls, "This you being a control god?"

"Yeah."

"It's pretty hot."

It's not the first time Willie's said it. When they're not on shift, he lavishes Alex with flirty compliments like it's his job, and Alex has gotten used to it enough that he no longer giggles every time it happens. But it's the first time Willie's said it at work.

Before Alex can think of a response, Caleb's angry voice calls over the din. "Alex! Get back in the servery!"

"Coming!"

He shoots his boyfriend a smile that he hopes conveys a kiss they can't share in the middle of their busy workplace. And Willie shoots him a slow wink that makes Alex feel like his boyfriend has kissed him back without even touching him.

"Thanks for the lesson, Hot Dog."

"Stick with me. I'll steer you right."

Willie runs suggestive eyes over Alex and, in that slow, sultry tone Alex loves, says, "I can be steered."

There's no denying that Willie makes it sound much better than Alex did.

But Alex is okay with that.

They make each other better. That's kind of like their thing.

There will be more fics in this verse coming eventually!

"What can I say? I'm a rebel" is from Emperor's New Groove because I am always on the verge of making an Emperor's New Groove reference.