Chapter Text
You took a moment to stand there, blinking dumbly at the man in front of you. He seemed just as startled as you were, wiping desperately at the coffee beginning to seep into his BMU sweater. Your mind suddenly catches up, panic sinking into the pit of your stomach as you hastily stutter out apologies, hands reaching to help but stalling when you’re unsure of exactly how to.
“One second, sorry.” You cringe at the obvious nervousness in your own voice and the warmth sure to be spreading across your face before turning away to retrieve napkins from the shop counter. You scurried back to him, still mumbling apologies as you helped dab away the now cool liquid while he held his damp sweater away from his body. It took a moment, but your mind was pulled away from its embarrassed haze when you realized he was talking, your gaze snapping up to look at the taller man. “I- I’m sorry- I didn’t catch that.” You prepared yourself for whatever insult he would repeat, surely upset over your mishap.
“I said don’t worry bout it, bud. I’m sure it’ll wash out, hell, if it don’t it’ll at least have some character now.” He chuckled to himself, gently taking a napkin from the stack I had brought over, helping to dry his own top now, before continuing. “‘Sides, if this thing was gonna stain from coffee my roomie would’a made it happen by now, you’re all good.”
Relief flooded you, and you let out a sigh as you felt some of the tension in your shoulders relax. He wasn’t yelling, he wasn’t cursing, and he certainly wasn’t starting a fight. You could navigate this, maybe even make up for it. You ran a hand through your hair, letting it rest at the back of your neck for a moment as you look over him now that you weren’t in such a flurry. He was taller than you, jeans hanging over leather boots and his drying sweater clinging to his thin frame, with long blonde hair cut into a mullet and a horseshoe mustache of the same hue. Interesting combo, you noted. His eyes drifted to yours and you froze, realizing you were staring.
You cleared your throat, turning your gaze to the side, and hastily offering your name in hopes of drawing his attention away from your ogling. “Sorry we had to meet like this. I swear I’m not usually this clumsy.” You give him a sheepish grin and let out a dry laugh. “I can get you another sweatshirt from the shop if you’d like.”
His hands immediately shot up, waving you off almost before you could finish the suggestion. “Nonsense, I told ya it was fine. My names Fiddleford, Fiddleford H. McGucket.” You could practically hear the smile in his voice as he held out his hand for you to shake, which you happily did. “Want me to get ya another drink? I feel horrible for knockin into ya and spilling yours.”
“Absolutely not,” your reply came quicker than you meant, coming off a bit harsh, if the small look of shock on his face was anything to go by. You quickly backtracked, holding up your hands in a mirror of how he had earlier. “I mean- I’m the one who ran into you , if anything, I should be gettin you a drink.”
He stared at you for a moment before laughing again, clapping a hand against your shoulder. “I like you,” you found yourself entranced in the way he said your name with such mirth. “How’s about we get each other a drink and call it even?” You couldn’t say no, not when he smiled so brightly, and nodded, following him to the counter to order again.
You chatted for a few moments after getting your drinks; you apologizing again while Fiddleford waved it off, “See? It’s almost completely dry already!” And he offers you a slip of paper before leaving to his next lecture, waving and yelling his goodbye over his shoulder as he hoofed it down the sidewalk. Your eyebrows furrow, turning it over in your hand and smoothing out wrinkles with your thumbs. An email? “Anytime!” he calls, and you look up to see him pointing at the paper in your hands before turning and finally taking off for good.