#tulsa king

‘Had he known you were coming, he would’ve had the breakfast platter ready.’ ; 

“Well, well,” Mitch drawled, his face immediately lighting up with a hint of surprise upon seeing you come in. He hadn’t expected much at the chime of the bell above the door, not as much expectation as he had for the past few days. After all, you did say your last day in Tulsa was yesterday, “Ain’t you a surprisin’ sight for sore eyes?”

His posture righted, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes a tad more prominent as he grinned, and he even briefly thanked his lucky stars that the diner was slow at his hour, with lunch rush ending just minutes ago.

You mirrored his joy, maybe a little more timid, considering how happy he looked as soon as you walked in. Almost happier than he usually was whenever you dropped by since you arrived in the city, but that could’ve been just you.

Right?

“You up for the usual?” He suggested, his crossed arms on the bar counter as you sat before him.

What a gentleman. He always was.

Man, had he known you were coming, he would’ve had the breakfast platter ready. Not too hot, not too cold, he just had a sixth sense when you’d stop by and serve you your usual, sometimes toasts, sometimes pancakes, and your proteins seasoned and greased up just right. 

“You won’t mind?” You asked back in a jest, feeling the corners of your lips quirk at him, even playing into it by placing a hand on his chest.

“Mind? You underestimatin’ me?” He narrowed his eyes, despite the smile he was trying to hide.

“No, sir.” You replied cheekily.

“That’s what I thought,” He nodded, content and, in all honesty, satisfied by your reply. 

Sir? 

He liked that.

Mitch turned to the kitchen window, “Ty! Platter number two, extra butter on those pancakes!”

“On it!” Tyson called back from the kitchen, already hearing the clanks of a spatula against the griddle.

“How did you know I wanted pancakes?” Mitch heard you ask, staring up at him with those pretty eyes, amazed, despite him having done so more than once.

He shrugged, despite patting himself on the back for guessing your specifics right yet again, “‘Been in the business for a while’, remember? And, well, you came in lookin’ like there’s a little celebration I should be lookin’ forward to.”

At his knowing look, almost hopeful, you dropped your gaze with a chuckle, “Celebration? I don’t… It’s nothing, really.”

“C’mon,” He insisted, steam rising as he poured your favourite hot beverage in a mug before placing it in front of you, “Ain’t gonna tell me why my favourite stranger’s still gracin’ me with her presence? ‘Cause I feel like I should be bracin’ myself for some really good news.”

Were you… Considering?

“First time, eh?” He recalled in a conversation with you during your first visit just days ago, coming over to have breakfast for a late lunch, “Ain’t no Universal Studios or Central Park or whatever touristy things in Tulsa, but I can definitely tell ya’ a thing or two on what to do ‘round here, pretty stranger. Get you a good experience in this lil’ town I call home. Next time you stop by, you let me know. You missin’ out on the city if you haven’t had the best chicken fried steak ‘round.”

Mitch, not wanting the moment—the anticipation to be interrupted, quickly retrieved your plate shortly after Tyson tapped on the kitchen bell. 

The breakfast platter, as you had always hoped for, was a sight to behold. 

And the company made it all the way better.

“It’s not that of a good news, you know, just news,” You shrugged, fiddling with the warm mug, your nails tapping at the ceramic at a certain rhythm, and after a moment, you continued, “About that… Chicken fried steak place you were talking about…”

Oh, Mitch didn’t bother to hide his excitement at that.

“Yeah?” He leaned in but also kept a safe distance from you, “You stayin’ ‘round for a little bit?”

“A little bit,” You nodded with a little smile, “If you’re free, of course. I know I said I was heading back today.”

Because how else were you supposed to expect that this simple visit to your relative’s home could become anything more with a charming diner owner?

“You doubtin’ me, sweetheart. If, God forbid, I give you a terrible experience at all, let alone leave you high and dry, you are most welcome to call the cops on me and get my diner closed down.” He tutted, shaking his head to enjoy your little laugh, “Tell ya’ what, I get off in an hour, and as soon as my partner takes over, I’ll take you out on a little drive first. Ain’t nothing wrong with a lil’ sightseein’ after a good ol’ meal. How ‘bout it?”

With the shared looks and smiles as he waited for your response, it was as if you both knew, somehow, you knew even for a little bit, that something good—really good—would come out of this.

But for now, there was absolutely no harm in taking it slow.

“I’d like that.”

He’d like that, too.

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