"I'll see you later." (D/7, Mark Two)
AU: In The Heights (2020 movie musical by Lin-Manuel Miranda)
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"You're stuck to this corner like a streetlight."
Tom Paris had said that only this morning, and Joe Carpentiere was afraid his friend was right. He and his cousin Mark had been working at the family general store in the immigrant neighborhood of Delta Heights since they were teenagers. No matter how much Joe worked and saved, his dream of going back to Tuscany, the birthplace he could barely remember, seemed farther away every year. Sometimes he got the feeling that, like the streetlight, he might flicker out entirely if something didn't change soon.
Judging by the sharp staccato of high heels on the linoleum, perhaps he was not the only one who felt this way.
Annika Hansen walked into the store with pent-up energy in every step, holding her phone to one ear, arguing in tightly controlled tones with whoever was on the end of the line. From what Joe could hear, it was something about a security deposit; for the last few days, she'd been in the process of trying to rent an apartment in a safer (and more expensive) part of town. It was a more practical goal than his, but she didn't seem to be making much headway either.
She jabbed the End Call button, cursed in Swedish under her breath, and went over to the wall of refrigerated shelves in the back of the store to let the cold air wash over her flushed face. Normally Joe didn't like it when customers did that - letting in the heat too long made the bottles sweat or even spoil - but he so rarely saw Annika in need of anything, even something as simple as cold air in August. He couldn't bring himself to reprimand her.
"You didn't get the apartment?" he asked instead.
"No." She sighed a cloud of condensation onto the glass door. "Everything was fine until I showed up in person. Then they took one look at me - either my face or my address - and, conveniently, the place was already taken."
Ten years ago, faulty wiring in their cheap apartment complex had set off a devastating fire that had killed several people, including both their parents. Joe had been away at Tom's place that night, but Annika had been caught in the fire too and barely escaped with her life. She now had reduced vision in one eye and burn scars on her face. People tended to overreact at the sight of her; either they were disgusted by the scars, or dazzled by her blond hair and curvy body. Joe had never understood either reaction. When he looked at her, he saw every version of her he'd ever known, from the anxious little girl who used to read her books alone in the schoolyard to the proud, ambitious woman who bought her coffee from him every morning - and she was always, always beautiful to him.
"Come on," he said, drawing a smiley face on the glass between them. "Look at it this way, whoever turned you away was clearly an idiot. You wouldn't want to live with them anyway."
She scoffed.
"You'll find the perfect place, I know you will. You're stubborn enough to search the whole city until you do." Even if it takes you far away from here, he thought, with an irrational pang of sadness given that he was planning to leave Delta Heights himself.
"Well, if that ever happens, don't forget … " Her face twitched into a reluctant smile. "You'll owe me a bottle of prosecco."
It was an old promise between them, mostly a joke by now, but he was touched that she still remembered.
The droplets of water on the fridge glass sparkled in the fluorescent light. For a long moment, neither of them spoke, and Joe realized for the first time how close their faces were. The summer heat and the air conditioning were not the only thing making him feel flushed and shivery. Annika's blue eyes seemed to darken as they flickered from his face to his chest.
"You've got … something … on your shirt," she said awkwardly, closing the door and stepping away.
Joe's blush became red-hot as he scrubbed at the coffee stain on his Emporio Carpentiere shirt. No wonder she was staring at him if he couldn't even stay clean at work.
"Here. Hold still." She pulled a stain remover pen out of her purse, uncapped it, and ran it lightly over the front of his shirt. He held very, very still, eyes fixed on the potato chip section over the top of her head, and told himself sternly not to read anything into this even as his skin prickled from the contact. She was a perfectionist, that was all. She didn't like to see stains anywhere. Touching him had absolutely nothing to do with it.
Naturally, Joe's younger cousin and assistant manager Mark chose this moment to pop out of the storage room, grinning from ear to ear at the scene before him. They didn't look much alike - Mark was skinny and blond while Joe was dark-haired and stocky - but their personalities were just similar enough for them to get on each other's nerves.
"Well, hello there, Annika," said Mark, with exaggerated casualness. "Haven't seen you since this morning. What can we get for you?"
"Oh! Just … just this." She grabbed a soda bottle at random out of the refrigerated shelves, without even looking at the label, and strode over to where Mark had inserted himself behind the counter. He rang it up and gave her the change, eyes glinting with mischief. Joe could already predict that he would never hear the end of this.
"Hey, you see my cousin over there, with a face like a ripe tomato?" Mark asked, smirking. "He wants to know what a lady such as yourself would be doing on Friday night."
Joe was halfway to the counter, ready to drag the little brat away by the ear, but the pressing need to hear Annika's answer stopped him short.
She glanced between the two of them, a glimmer of something in her eyes that might have been amusement.
"Does your cousin dance?"
"After some wine, oh yeah. The only problem's getting him to stop."
"Tell him I'll pick him up at eight. See you later, boys."
In the time it took Joe to process what was happening, she was already out the door, her ponytail swinging behind her as she gave him one last smile over her shoulder.
"D-did you hear that?" he sputtered. "Did Annika Hansen really just ask me on a date?"
"She really did," said Mark smugly. "Because at least one of us knows how to talk to girls. You're welcome."
"You're impossible - but thank you!" Joe ruffled his cousin's hair exuberantly and was shoved away with a laugh.
Even at the height of his giddy excitement over the upcoming Friday night, though, he couldn't help worrying about the future beyond that. I haven't forgotten you, he thought as he touched two fingers to the green, white and red Italian flag pinned to the wall.
If he was set on returning to his childhood home, while Annika was set on leaving hers, what did that mean for them?
Was it even worth starting something when you knew it might not last?