The fuck do I do now?

I just can't stop thinking about a 27-year-old Adam working some shit corp. job during his first year in NYC - he hates it, it sucks. His boss is a dick-riding bitch, the hours are wack (7am?! who's even a person then?? He's gotta get up at fucking 5 to make it in on time.), and top it off, his favorite house plant is dying because his apartment doesn't have windows. Shit sucks. Late 20's suck. He stops in a bodega before work, tired, didn't sleep - couldn't sleep - staring hard at the cigarettes half out of his mind, debating on starting the bad habit up again.

"You gonna buy something or you just doing inventory too?" Adam's head snaps to a guy behind the counter. He has a clipboard in his hand, pulling out scratch-off tickets enough to see something and write some shit down. The guy had a half-amused, half-annoyed look on his face as he pretended to put all his focus on the clipboard and not on Adam watching him..

"Sorry," because he can't help himself. He has never been good at confrontation, and the sharp, amused look the worker gives him makes Adam uncomfortable, so he looks anywhere else but at him, an awkward blush already starting on his face. "I don't-I don't actually smoke. Anymore, I guess."

"When you get over your crisis, let me know. I grab some for you." The slanted name tag read NICK in letters that look like it was handwritten by someone having a stroke. Adam stares at the Marlboros, but his eyes wander back to the guy every time he hears the pull of the lotto ticket roll. He‘s his age, or close to it, hollowed out cheeks, dark circles under his wire aviators, and a cigarette behind his ear. He wore a sweatshirt, but had his sleeves rolled up and Adam was really starting to hate how much he was gawking at the man.

“I’ll get 27s. Screw it.”

“Great choice,” He said flatly. Bitter. Sarcastic as he grabs the white and gold box that’s been in Adam’s dreams. “That it?” Adam mumbles out a ‘hmm huh,’ pissed that he is spending the last bit of his change on smokes he didn’t need instead of caffeine. Maybe he should have gotten a single, maybe Jeff from accounting has gotten the coffee pot going at work, maybe Adam should drop everything and move back home. Maybe he shouldn’t have fumbled with his wallet, because quarters fell out onto the linoleum with a clink. Nick didn’t move, just watching Adam with exhausted patience. “Smooth,” he said, putting down his clipboard to reach for the crumbled bills in Adam’s hand. Red dusts his cheeks as he tries to avoid Nick’s amused look. “You’re corporate, aren’t you?” He asks counting back his change.

“How’d you-”

“You look like you’re made for a cubicle.” Well, fuck. That sorta stung and Nick seems proud of it. Adam’s ears were pink when Nick hands him some ones and his smokes. “Have a nice day.” Nick chimes at him as he leaves. Adam doesn’t know him, but he has a feeling Nick meant it bitterly. The smokes feel heavy in his pocket as he walks towards the subway, towards his job, towards that seven am meeting he has with his boss who calls him “buddy” because the man didn’t care enough to remember Adam’s name. Shit. Fucking. Sucks.

But he goes into that bodega every day to grab a coffee with the money he doesn’t have. Even though there’s one closer to work with a better brew (but definitely not a better view amirite.) He realizes quickly the guy behind the counter is rude, and quick witted but sorta cute and Adam kinda likes all of it. He says he goes because it’s on his way to work, but he wakes up 20 minutes earlier just so he can talk to Nick.

It was one day Nick taking his time making Adam’s bacon, egg and cheese (it’s literally three ingredients why would it take more than a couple of minutes? but Adam didn’t care because he sorta likes the way his hands move.) when he asks “So,” the crumple of tin foil took Adam out of his trance. Adam’s elbows rest on the counter, hunched over - trying to look chill, trying to look at Nick more, trying maybe to be something Nick would look twice at. “You gotta girlfriend, bug?” (He started calling him that because Adam “might as well move in the bodega with the cockroaches” because of how often he shows up there. It’s annoying, but Adam again- kinda likes it.)

“What? I-why?” Nick grins at him as he slid his sandwich over to him because of course he does. Nick loves to make Adam uncomfortable and blush and look all stupid. There’s no way he doesn’t. Nick mimics his stance, but on the other side of the counter. Their elbows almost touching- Adam could smell his cheap soap he uses and cigarette breath and it’s about to fucking kill him.

“Just wondering if I should tell your girlfriend how much time you spend here.” It was stupid how easy he made Adam blush. Really stupid. All from what? A cocky grin? A sly look and backhanded comment? Fuck him. Adam refuses to meet his eyes.

“No girlfriend. No boyfriend either before you ask.”

“I wasn’t,” did Nick just get closer? Fuckfuckfuck. “Boyfriend, huh?”

“I’m just- I’m not-“ Adam thinks Nick’s evil for laughing at him. “Fuck.” Adam thinks a lot about his new favorite bodega worker. It’s honestly starting to become a problem.

You sold me at coke and got me forever with the compliments. I'm a simple guy. I'm fucking rolling over the crack/inner city comment fuck I wasn't ready.

Anon. I've been thinking about this for ages. That photo of Nick and Stav kissing (and how Nick finally gets a fucking twinkle in his eye and Stav's little fat hand on his throat?!) lives rent-free in my head.

Word Count: 736

Rating: T

~*~

The most “Nick” I’ve ever seen him.