For the first time ever, on a quiet Sunday morning just a week after the group's all-you-can-eat, Raven isn't the first one he sees when he makes his way into the coffee shop. It shouldn't be startling. The odds of her working every single time he comes in are so hilariously slim that he should have marveled more at the way it happened. And yet, it had become so routine that he actually stops dead in his tracks right there in the doorway. Where is she?

The employee's door behind the counter bursts open, and Raven in all her dark energy slinks through it. She pauses when her gaze lifts from something in her hand and catches him standing prone in the doorway like an idiot. Her attention darts behind him, and he realizes someone's about to reach the passage that he's blocking. He hurries out of the way, ambling over in Raven's direction. "Are you leaving?"

She lifts her hand, displaying what he now realizes is an earbud case. "I just came to get this." Without any amount of fanfare, she deposits it into the deep pocket of her hoodie. It's a dark blue, plain aside from some sort of black lettering on the front. It's not in English, though, so he doesn't know what it says. "I forgot it after my shift yesterday," she adds quietly, almost like the words were merely to fill space. Which is funny. That's something he does, not her.

He nods, feeling adrift with her on the same side of the counter as him. "Cool."

Raven doesn't answer that, merely observes him for a couple seconds and then smooths her hair. "I'll see you later, Graham."

Gar's nose scrunches with frustration as he watches her walk away, annoyed with himself and the sad little tug of his heart in her direction. "Can I buy you tea?" he blurts out before she can make it too far, unsure if the pounding sensation he has is from his chest or between his ears.

Tipping her head like she's unsure she heard him right, Raven twists slowly on her heel to face him. "Why?" Her tone is flat, barely recognizable as a question.

Whatever bravado had him pushing the initial offer into the open air between them quickly dissipates, leaving him with an empty feeling in his lungs. His eyes dip to the floor, to his hastily tied sneakers and her pristine leather boots. "Because we're friends and you like tea." He chances a perusal of her expression, but it's as blank as always. "I thought maybe we could hang out."

Raven surprises the heck out of him by ducking her head, lips pressed together. "I'd like that."

A grin tugs at his mouth. "Sweet. Uh, you like longjing this time of year, right?"

With a slow blink, Raven nods. "You remember?"

Perhaps he shouldn't have revealed that. Gar clears his throat and nods back. "I'll just–" he jerks a hand towards the counter, where her coworker is trying not to fall asleep where he leans against the back counter. "I'll go order."

"Oh, you don't have to pay for me," she interjects, taking a small step closer.

"I said I would. You got me a drink during finals, remember?" Granted, she got one for everyone and probably with an excellent discount. "Pick a seat."

She acquiesces, and while he waits for their drinks to be made, he spots her curling into one of the coveted window armchairs. Hazy light from a low hanging sun casts a warm hue across her pale face, and for a few seconds he's stuck staring. She catches his gaze, and he sends her a small smile. Maybe she's tired, because she actually returns it. It makes his smile stretch bigger, and he barely notices when his name is muttered just behind him. His actual name, because instead of standing behind the counter, Raven's actually sitting with him. Like. Voluntarily.

He grabs their order and makes his way over to her, fingers almost brushing when he passes her the tea. They don't actually touch, but his hand tingles all the same. "Thank you," she murmurs, pressing her lips to the lid and gauging the heat.

"No problem." Dropping into the adjacent seat, Gar doesn't bother waiting for his beverage to cool, just lets it burn its way down. "So what kind of music do you listen to?" It's the first topic he lands on to interrupt the slowly growing silence between them, the thought coming from how she came to pick up her earbuds today.

Raven's shoulders shift in a small shrug. "A bit of a variety. Classical, opera, rock, metal. So on."

Though it's a bit of a wide taste, he can see her liking all of them. "Ah, I listen to a lot of genres, too. As long as it has a good groove."

The corner of her mouth tips up, regarding him in a relaxed manner that lulls him into the comfort of the conversation. Usually he feels more on edge when they talk, afraid he'll say or do something stupid. Raven's typically impassive, gaze cynical, daunting to face down. Right now, though, she's sinking into the plush of her chair, chin hidden by the lip of her cup. Placid.

Her inky eyes skim down his face, landing on the tapping of his free hand against the armrest. He halts the motion. "What would you do?" The query comes suddenly, a soft burst of words piercing through the silence.

Gar blinks, shifting in his chair. "Do what?"

Raven pinches her lower lip between her teeth, seeming to regret the question. He sits still, hoping she doesn't abandon it. After another moment of hesitation, she catches his stare. "What would you do if I called you by your name?"

Well. He certainly wasn't expecting that. "I…don't know. I haven't really thought about it." Even thinking about it now he has no idea. "Have you?"

Almost imperceptibly, she nods. "Briefly."

After a few seconds of waiting for her to expand upon that, Gar coughs. "And? What do you think I'd do?"

"Get bored." It's a flat statement, one that belies no emotion either which way.

"Oh." Gar will admit freely that part of the allure to Raven, and in turn his frequent trips to the coffee shop, is the misnaming. For one thing, he's curious to know what name she lands on for the day, sometimes amused by it. For another, it feels dangerously close to a thing. Something that binds them, and only them. He knows she doesn't give bogus names to anyone else, and whatever her reason for doing so, even if it's because she hates him, the habit belongs to him.

It shouldn't make him feel special, but it does. More than likely, it did start because she hated him. He doubts that she hates him now. They're friends, and, shockingly, he feels secure in that. Though he wouldn't be surprised to learn that she indulges him at best, despite that. So, wouldn't it make sense for her to cut it short if she figured he'd leave her alone once she started using his name?

His drink doesn't scald anymore, tamed by the halting nature of their conversation. "Why haven't you, then?"

Like him, she stalls by taking a long sip. "I don't want you to." She twists her lips, running her thumb along the soft fabric of the arm of her chair. "Get bored, that is."

"Oh." It's a repetition, and he almost says it again because he can't much force the words tumbling around his brain to settle into a proper sentence. Hope flares in his chest, and maybe stupidly, he decides to take a chance on it. "Then, I guess you won't be too bothered by the fact that it wouldn't have worked."

Her eyes flit between his, guarded as always. He wants to break that barrier, learn why it's there. He wants to discover her every facet, her history, her dreams for the future. He wants it all. Setting his cup on the small table between the arms of their angled chairs, he leans in close. She presses into the back of her chair, the armor falling away.

Gar swallows, heart pounding away in his chest. "How about this Friday? At seven. Dinner and a movie."

Her gaze steadies on his, even as she sets her drink down next to his. Ever so slowly, she leans in until there's but a scant few inches between them. If the proximity isn't startling enough, her next suggestion is. "How about right now?"

He blinks. "Now?"

The corner of her mouth quirks up. Apparently he amuses her. "Let's finish these on the way out," she proposes, settling back and gesturing towards their cups. He stares at them blankly. "There's a nice walking path nearby I like to use–we can, um. Discuss this further."

The falter in her sentence catches his attention, and he studies her for a moment. There's no way she's as nervous as he is right now. Except, he's witness to her steadying inhale, then shaky exhale, the curl of her fingertips into the chair. "This?"

She nods and stands, and he scrambles up after her. "Our date. Our…relationship." She pauses, during which time he manages to convince himself he might actually not be dreaming. "Unless I've misunderstood?"

He shakes his head. Vigorously. "N-no. I want to date you. Like…a lot."

How freaking graceful.

But she smiles. Small, slow, warm. It absolutely melts him. "Good," she asserts, then steps in close. It happens so fast, lasting less than a second, so he almost thinks he's imagining it. He knows he's not, though, only because he's been craving it for so long that the touch of her lips on his sends a shock of shivers through him. Before he can gather his wits, she's leaned over and retrieved her cup, gliding to the door.

He stares, stupefied, until she glances over her shoulder. "Coming, Garfield?"

As much as he likes their little name game, as much as it belongs to them, he finds that he likes the way she says his actual name just as much. Like that belongs to her, too.

The end! Hope it didn't suck. c: