Work Text:
“You totally have a crush on him.” Willow declared, slamming down a mug with a loud
clank
.
Wilson squinted at his coworker and continued to mix the coffee that a customer had recently ordered.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He denied, sprinkling a light cinnamon dust over the top of the drink.
Willow pointed at a man sitting in a windowed corner with a stirring straw. He was a pale and raven haired, donned in a baggy striped sweatshirt. Dark sunglasses hung from the shirt’s neckline, barely visible under a woven scarf. A steaming beverage sat in front of him, a large book before the drink. Across the table from the man was a young girl with unruly pigtails, scribbling away with fluorescent crayons. Every now and then she would pause to sip from a juicebox before continuing her frantic coloring.
“I still don’t see what you’re talking about.” Wilson sniffed, however was attempting to conceal his disbelief in his own words.
“Suuuuuuuure.”
She turned to a heating coffee pot, grabbed it and shoved it in Wilson’s direction.
“Go talk to him you hopeless romantic.”
“I am
not
a hopeless romantic!”
Willow scoffed and pushed him out into the cafe. Rolling his eyes, Wilson detoured around the cafe floor, trying to get to every table that was away from the man he was so strangely nervous about.
“What are you acting so nervous about?” An older woman inquired, setting down a rather old looking book. Her white hair was pulled into a tight bun and thin wired glasses resting on her nose. “About going up to that sweet boy?”
“Were you listening to our conversation?”
“Just because I’m old doesn’t mean I can’t hear son!”
Wilson looked down at his shoes and pretended that he wasn’t being attacked by so many emotions right at that moment.
“There’s nothing scary about him at all.” She said pointedly. Wilson sighed.
“Alright fine.”
The woman grinned and held out her cup.
“I would like some coffee before you go.”
After Wilson poured the elderly woman another coffee, he made his way over to the man. He could swear that his confidence was ebbing away, but also knew he would be ridiculed but Willow, and possibly his boss Maxwell, and he couldn’t have that.
The little girl noticed him first.
“Hi!’ she greeted happily, glancing up from her drawing. This caught the man’s attention, who looked at Wilson and back at Wendy. He reached to a clear section of the table and tapped a rhythm consisting of many short and long taps.
“Wes would like another cup of coffee please.” The girl translated.
Wilson complied, picking up Wes’ mug and refilled it.
He saw him tap out another rhythm.
“He asks what your name is mister.”
“Oh, uh, Wilson Higgsbury. “
The girl smiles. “I’m Wendy, and this is Wes. Wes can’t talk, so he ‘speaks’ in morse code.”
“Interesting.”
Wilson could swear he saw a small smile perk at Wes’ features. He tapped another message.
“He says you seem nice.”
Wilson felt his cheeks heat up. “Well, the same about you both!”
“Wilson! Stop flirting with the customers and get back to work!” a voice boomed. Seeing who it was, Wilson could see the tall form of Maxwell with his arms crossed and Willow stifling a mess of laughs.
“Sorry, that’s my boss. I’ll see you later?”
Wes smiled and nodded, Wendy giving him a thumbs up and returning to her art piece.
Wilson retreated to the kitchen area of the the cafe and Willow was hardly keeping it together.
“What are giggling about?” He defended.
“You! You
actually
went and talked to the guy you’ve been fawning over for
weeks!
”
Wilson huffed. “I still don’t have any idea what you’re saying.”
But deep down, he knew Willow was right.
On his break, Wilson was disappointed to find that Wes and Wendy were no longer at the table, but was more than excited to find a slip of paper with spindly script listing a set of numbers and a messy signature reading
Wes
.