Lacey’s jaw fell baring sharpened teeth, her eyes sparking at the weight of the binding deal. Though, you wasted no time on the burden of the oral contract, nor on what you could claim from it, already passing over your sugar-stained apron. An exchange of forced smiles worsened the knot forming in your stomach.

"He's in the corner booth."

Chest tight, you nodded, whispering, "what-?"

"Goblin."

It wasn't like you were seeing anyone. You hadn't for a while, and the nerves forced a lump to your throat. The only real reason you were against this was a panic beginning to cloud your thoughts. He must have come with a broken heart, and you weren't so sure how much help you would be, rusty as you were.

Lacey's gentle nod was a push out of the kitchen. The sight already overwhelmed you; booths filled mainly with couples, though some sat as more, partners hurt by another in a polyamorous relationship leaving. Today wasn't the first time you had seen someone crying on a volunteer’s shoulder, though admittedly the first time you had seen both a tiefling and harpy cry here.

The goblin in question wasn't visible above the booth until you squeezed by an octomer - one you had seen surprisingly frequently, well-versed in walking on tentacles curled together in an effort to find a mate - before hesitating just before the table to steady yourself.

Lacey was right; he looked miserable, and bitter. From first impression alone, the atmosphere he exuded was one you were reluctant to disturb, and served only to lock your body tighter. Even still, he had made an effort; smart clothes, a black shirt crisp against his dark green skin, trimmed gold at the collar like his thin septum ring. Another two gold rings sat at his thin lips, gnawed at now by sharp teeth.

He might have looked miserable, but when he looked up, the softening of his face softened yours, too, and he looked cute, with his bright eyes rounded and long ears twitching; before he scowled, and turned back to staring at his hands.

"May I?" The goblin tipped his chin, though didn't say a word, so you sat slowly and introduced yourself. In silence, too, waiting for the goblin to say anything.

Only after a minute of silence did he grunt, "Vardelk."

"So," you hummed, and his face fell. Questions raced through your mind, but each seemed too cliché, too date-like too soon. Some came to Huddle Haven for comfort, for a distraction or a date, but if you had to guess, his deadpan stare wasn't one of wanting a date. "Have you been waiting long?"

Vardelk only shrugged one light shoulder, but his eyes narrowed. They ran over you in a way that had you squirming and struggling for words.

"Are you hungry? Their sundaes are good. Cakes, too, but I prefer the brownies. Hot chocolate over coffee," you mumbled, itching to draw a response, anything from the pensive goblin, but nothing worked. With nothing coming to mind - and in a last ditch effort before you began to ramble all the more, you asked, "what brought you here today?"

Vardelk's nails tapped at the faded cloth. "You work here, don't you?"

For such a sudden change in conversation, albeit a one-sided one, you stared at him for a second before your thoughts caught up. In the moment that passed, he scoffed, and his sharp eyes pierced you. They struck you like Lacey’s had, narrowed and biting.

"They had to pay someone to sit with me, huh? Forget it. Fuck this."

Guilt twisted at you when he began to shift out of the booth, but you made no move to stop him, only speaking quietly. "We ran out of volunteers. They didn't anticipate it being so busy. I'm sorry. I usually only work in the kitchens."

His dark eyes rolled and his voice hardened. "You didn't anticipate monsters having their hearts broken? Typical. Never the humans."

The initial shock of him realising that you were, in fact, human, wore off fast. Unhindered pain replaced all guilt and lodged at the back of your throat, but your words held steady and hopefully, hit as hard as his stare. "I first came here like you months ago, not for a job, but because I'd had my heart broken. By a drider, by the way," you added, and Vardelk had the nerve to shrug. "I sat with-" breath rushed from you at the memory of the day warmed in the hug of a volunteer. "He was a minotaur, and he sat with me as I cried. We went out again on a real date. For a while, actually. Until I finally put out, as he so eloquently said, because apparently broken-hearted people make for the best fucks. So no, it isn't only monsters, and our time is up, I think."

The sting blurring your vision wasn't worth the glimmer of regret on the goblin's features. He didn't deserve to know the hell you'd been through, and you were almost from the small booth when a soft touch caught your hand.

Needless to say, you snatched back from his touch, unashamed of the tears now brimming when you finally met his dark stare again. Thick ears you had earlier thought of as cute twitched back when his shoulders hunched over.

"I'm sorry."

It was your turn to don the mask of an empty expression, voice blank. "Thanks."

“We were together a year,” Vardelk whispered. Blunt nails tapped at the cloth as he cleared his throat. “Someone else was in our bed. Goblins can’t be enough for anyone, apparently. That we wouldn’t ever be enough. I’m quoting,” he said then, finally looking up.

His eyes were misty, too. "You left?"

Vardelk's smile was pained. "The offer of an open relationship didn’t appeal after being cheated on."

"Human?" His small chest puffed out and he sunk back with a weak nod. "I'm sorry, too."

Little could be said beyond your whispered apologies. There was little you wanted to say. Silence in your booth was nothing in the warmth of Huddle Haven, soft laughs echoing among deeper conversations at other tables. This weekend would be the hardest, not only with the rush of heartbroken patrons, but the reminder of your own pain, thanks to your “date.”

"Do you… do you want a brownie?"

"Me?"

Vardelk's smile was small, but it was there. "Hot chocolate, maybe?"

With an equally tentative smile, you said, "your treat for being an ass."

Then to your surprise - and relief, the goblin grinned, small legs tucking beneath him on the cushioned booth when he reached for a menu. Your rambling hadn’t fallen ignored, as Vardelk ordered a salted caramel sundae from Lacey, then, smiling, two hot chocolates and a brownie for you.

"Let me clarify first," you said. Vardelk’s ears drooped with his body shrinking back, and you spoke softer when his hands fell beneath the table to wring in his lap. "This doesn't have to be a date. Do you want to talk about it, or do you want to be distracted?"

With the desserts laid down, Vardelk brightened. "Distract me."

So you did. Obviously, a little unfortunately, Vardelk was aware of where you worked and how you were paid to accompany him. Under your careful shift in conversation, you learned he worked only across the road in a small flower shop, one he loathed more than anything at this time of year; as much as you hated the crowding in your café.

“I’d never been interested in coming here before... before yesterday, but,” Vardelk sipped at the hot chocolate, frowning at it. “People rush here. I see it all the time, coming to buy flowers then crossing the road. I don’t like blind dates. Never have,” he bit out. "They only start in disappointment and end in wasted time."

“I’m not disappointed.”

Vardelk rolled his eyes, but you only laughed, even after inadvertently calling this a date.

Until today, dating, the mere thought of it, sickened you, and with good reason, too. Even this had come at the coercion and bargaining of a fae, which said enough about your aversion to dating.

But something about Vardelk made your cheeks warm. The longer you sat with him, the easier conversation flowed. He was prickly and pessimistic, but you laughed, and his smiles grew until enough time passed for you to return the favour - you had been a little bit of an ass, too - and you shared churros together. Over the second dessert, small mannerisms began to warm you to him, your stomach fluttering with each eye roll. His earrings would clink when his head tilted, or when they trembled and tucked back at his embarrassment, or how when he was listening, really listening, he would draw his lips rings between sharp teeth and hum quietly. It was endearing to see his legs swinging gently beneath the table, too.

Huddle Haven closed at seven. Not late, but it wasn’t a bar, only a café, and any later welcoming the heartbroken would have the café open infinitely. Lacey came when Vardelk was absent from the table with the reminder that you were still on shift, and would be staying behind as usual to clean with everyone; "so don't get any ideas about leaving just yet," she'd said, her feathered eyebrows raised, but with the way she nudged you, there would be more probing for gossip about your forced date than any cleaning.

The goblin stood tucked into the wall beside you, bundled beneath a thick coat and a scarf almost his height. He was the last to leave, and reluctantly so, scuffing his heels and fiddling with the frayed ends of his sleeves, enough that you had to turn to hide your smile when he fumbled buttoning the coat, too.

"I know I was a prick," he began, and there was no avoiding the warmth to his eyes when he looked up. He stood a couple of feet smaller than you, the difference in height more obvious when he looked down again. "But I want it to be a date. To have another date."

The inclination to continue this into the evening shocked you, the want to agree on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t. As much as you longed to, you whispered, "I'm not looking to be a rebound."

Vardelk flinched. He began to deny it, words stuttered and softening into whispers, before biting down on his lip with a sharp nod. This was your first date in a long while, and after a reluctance to pursue any relationship for as long a time. He had been in a year long one, too, and if he only used you to move on once you had grown attached, your heart couldn’t take it.

But...

Beyond the resurfaced pain, the initial spat and his outwardly cruel demeanor, the afternoon together had been pleasant. For the first time in a long time, you wanted to go out again, to spend time with someone knowing you could be more than just friends, and you wanted that to be with him.

And he was cute.

"Come back in a month," you said. Vardelk's teeth caught at his lip ring when he choked, a nod shaking his gold earrings. "I'll say yes in a month."

The goblin came back the next day, a small smile enough for you weaken into accepting the bunch of flowers, and he returned each week with a brighter bunch. Keeping your word was a struggle, and on the second week you may have bowed to kiss him that night, just once, and Vardelk tucked a flower against your ear when you crouched, promising you would be worth the wait.