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It’s the kind of cafe Jon wouldn’t step a foot inside were it not owned by his friend/ex and her girlfriend who hated him with a passion, one that Jon hoped supporting her local business would lessen.
Tim had decided to come with him on their lunch break, not that Jon invited him. Tim and Jon, while good friends a majority of the time, really only fought over one thing- Jon’s attitude towards others… especially the customers.
“I get that, Jon. I do. That’s why I typically do the human interaction portion and let you stick to the business side of things, but sometimes I’m too busy to deal with every buyer all the time and on those extremely rare occasions I need you to at the very least treat our customers with some basic human decency.” Tim explained, exasperated, as he entered the cafe with a frustrated Jon.
“Honestly, you act as if I physically fight everyone who walks into my line of sight,” Jon joked, looking over the menu as he stood waiting in line with Tim.
“At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if you did,” Tim said.
“You can’t seriously believe that, Tim. I’m not the horrible man you’re making me out to be!” Jon yelled, arm making a sweeping movement that caused Jon’s hand to firmly smack something soft behind him.
Jon turned to see what he’d accidentally hit, eyes meeting the furrowed gaze of a frankly beautiful barista. Jon had but a moment to take in this stranger’s lovely blonde curls that framed his icy blue eyes and plush lips before he was slapped across the face.
“Don’t fucking touch me- or anyone else without consent! What the hell is wrong with you?” The barista snapped, anger leaving his body the second the words left his mouth. “Shit.”
As quickly as the man entered Jon’s life, he left, teary-eyed and visibly worried as he disappeared behind a door labeled ‘Employees Only’. A brunette woman with glasses, who was previously wiping the counters, sighed and followed him.
“I knew letting Georgie invite you was a mistake.” Came an unfortunately familiar voice to Jon’s left. “Then I leave my office to greet you and what do I see? I see Jonathan fucking Sims slapping the ass of one of my employees on his first day.”
“Look, this is all just an honest misunderstanding-” Tim began, having composed himself relatively well for someone who had just been laughing uproariously at Jon’s expense.
“I don’t give a shit.” Melanie responded, teeth bared. “You’re banned, both of you. Don’t ever step a foot in this cafe again or I’ll do a lot more than raise my voice at you, I’ll tell you that much.”
Luckily, once Tim was able to convince Jon to leave and let him explain the situation to Melanie, she cautiously unbanned Tim, making it extremely clear he was on thin ice. But no matter how much Tim vouched for Jon, Melanie refused to unban him.
Martin discovered this when he went into work the next day to see an eye-catching flyer. The flyer had a picture of the man from yesterday with the words ‘banned for sexual misconduct’ across it in big, bolded font.
“Um, Sasha? What the hell is this?” Martin called, gesturing to the flyers posted on the door, windows, walls, and counter of The King & Barker Cafe.
“Melanie had me print them this morning, couldn’t talk her out of it. But, I did get to print these!’ Sasha said as she proudly showed Martin a flyer with a much more flattering picture of the friend that man had brought into the cafe yesterday, the flyer read, ‘wanted for sexual prowess’ scrawled above it in pink Comic Sans. “His name’s Tim. I managed to get his number after my shift was through… He said his mate, Jon, didn’t mean anything by the bum touch and genuinely didn’t even know anyone was nearby when he was waving his hands around.”
“I figured as much. He looked horrified once I chewed him out but I was too humiliated to even realize it was an accident until after I slapped him.” Martin replied, mournfully.
“That slap was amazing, by the way. Didn’t know you had it in you, Blackwood… Although, with an arse like yours I suppose you’re used to fighting perverts off you with a stick.” Sasha added, her empathetic tone conveying the message that she is all too familiar with having to protect herself from creeps at any cost. “I’ll talk to Melanie about getting the posters taken down. It’s not like signs warning of sexual predator customers is doing much in ways of helping the business- especially considering there’s a daycare just down the road.”
“Thanks, Sasha.” Martin replied, relief evident in the immediate slump of his shoulders. “Oh! And tell Tim to tell Jon that he’s welcome back anytime and that everything is forgiven.”
“So, yeah, boss! Now you can stop worrying all the time- says right here that the bootylicious watier forgives you and that you’re welcome back anytime!” Tim said, positively beaming as he reads Sasha’s texts aloud to Jon.
“Well, of course he says that, he is clearly some poor soul who doesn’t want to lose his job or any potential customers and is willing to trade his comfort and safety for a paycheck. Trust me, by not going back, I’m doing him a favour. Besides, you bring me back my drink anyhow, so it’s not like my actions are affecting their business in any way.” Jon reasoned, shoulders so tense that Tim was surprised the man didn’t cramp up from all that strained muscle movement.
“I’ve talked to him multiple times this week, Jon. He knows it was an honest mistake and even told me to tell you that he’s sorry for slapping you and going off like that.” Tim explained.
“Christ, did he really apologize for defending himself when I’m the one who was being inappropriate?” Jon winced, feeling sorry for the low self-esteem of that waiter.
“You accidentally hit his arse with your hand, you didn't grab both cheeks and squeeze, Jon." Tim joked, reveling in the furious blush Jon gave at that image. "Although… if I wasn't already somewhat in love with Sasha, I wonder if Martin would let me-"
"Drop it, Tim. Do not objectify him, even if he's got a- well, a rather spectacular bum…" Jon trailed off, eyes momentarily wandering to the hand that hit Martin, flexing the fingers wonderiously.
"Oh, right! You got to touch it, didn't you, boss? You lucky bastard! Spill, what was it like?" Tim pried curiously.
"Very soft and plump and… I wonder if his hand is that soft… or his hair. He has gorgeous hair, Tim. Did you notice?" Jon rambled, face fond in a way Tim had never seen before.
"Oh. My. God."
"What?"
"You like him!" Tim accused happily.
"No, I do not! I am simply pointing out that Martin's skin is soft and he looks rather handsome! That is a fact and my thoughts on how caring of a partner he would be, should someone be lucky enough to have Martin as a lover, have nothing to do with it!" Jon argued, cheeks flushed.
"And what would you do if you saw that Martin was in a committed relationship with someone who isn't you?" Tim asked with faux nonchalance.
"I'd congratulate him and promptly go back to my flat and cry into my pillow until I pass out… Ah, I see what you did there." Jon said after a moment, tuning out Tim's uproariously laughter. "Well, Timothy… it appears I've got something of a dilemma on my hand."
“Again, I am so sorry for your loss. If you need more time off or a shoulder to cry on, just know me, Georgie, and Sasha are all here for you.” Melanie said, face more solemn then Martin thought was possible for her, given her allergy to emotions like sympathy or sadness (or the allergy Melanie claimed to have towards vulnerability, Georgie assures him that Melanie can be quite the softie once you get to know her).
“Thank you, Melanie. I should be good to go back to work next monday and I have Sasha over, so you don’t need to worry about me being alone during all this.” Martin explained softly, still assuading others worries even as he himself is falling apart.
“That’s good to hear, Martin. Take care.” Melanie replied, leaving Martin alone with the annoyingly constant beeps of the phone signaling that she had hung up.
“Can I sit down next to you?” Sasha asked gently, gesturing to the couch cushion to the left of Martin.
“‘Course.” Martin replied, words having to crawl their way out from Martin’s throat, trying in vain to swallow the massive clump of grief that had lodged in his windpipe since the moment Martin had received the news of his mother’s passing.
“I’m sorry this happened to you.”
“I’m not.” Martin said, followed by a strangled laugh. “How awful of a son am I? My mother’s dead and all I can feel is relief… Even my sadness is selfish. I’m not sad that she’s dead, I’m sad she died without ever having loved me. I always thought that one of these days, maybe on her deathbed, she’d see everything I’d done for her and all I’ve sacrificed and she’d apologize and say she’d always loved me even if she was in too much pain to properly show it. But she didn’t. All she said was ‘Stop crying Martin, not everything has to be about you!’. Although, I suppose I should be happy that she died doing what she loved- berating me, that is. I don’t even know why I'm mourning a woman who's caused me nothing but pain, but I can't stop! Terrible or not, she was the only family I had left. I don't know how I'm going to plan a funeral when I'll be the only person who cares enough about her to attend."
"Tim works at a local funeral home, says it's relatively cheap too, if you want me to set up a consultation for you." Sasha provides helpfully, texting Tim about the current situation before Martin has a chance to respond. "Does Friday work for you? He says it should only take an hour or so to walk you through the process before you can schedule a proper appointment to hash out the details."
"Yes, I'm free Friday, but Sasha, you don't have to do this for-" Martin began.
"You're my friend, Martin. Let me help you." Sasha said caringly. "You don't have to do everything on your own, you know?"
"I know. Thanks Sasha."
"Anytime."
It was ten minutes before Tim was meant to come into work when Jon received a text, saying “Tim’s sick, he has a doctor's appt later today so he probs won’t be back for a few days or so lol- Danny”. Jon knew Tim wasn’t the kind of man who called in sick without a good reason, given the amount of times Tim has come into work hungover or sleep deprived, and yet Jon still felt a pang of frustration over Tim’s (albeit reasonable) absence.
With Tim out sick, Jon would have to perform Tim’s duties as well as his own, meaning he’d have to actually interact with people and run the risk of losing their business should Jon snap at them. Luckily, Tim only had one client consultation scheduled for the day, while the majority of Tim’s other interpersonal communication being short conversations over the phone. And as much as Jon wanted to call Tim’s client, a Mr. Blackwood, and explain that Tim was out sick and to reschedule- Jon remembered the argument he had with Tim in the cafe and realized just how dependent he was on Tim to do all the client interaction, leaving him utterly unprepared for when situations like this come up.
Jon had made up his mind. He would attend this client consultation and manage not to piss off or frighten Mr. Blackwood, he’d be considerate and professional and Tim wouldn’t have to worry about losing clients as he recovers from his unfortunate illness.
Martin was in hell. That is the only logical explanation for why he is now being ushered into the office of a man whose face he’d slapped.
“I thought… I could’ve sworn I booked a consultation with Tim. Is he busy or..?” Martin asked shyly, struggling to meet the eye of the horrified funeral home employee.
“You did. He called in sick this morning.” Jon explained, taking in Martin’s soft blue jumper and black jeans with bedazzled cuffs.
“Oh shit, I put on the wrong pair of jeans!” Martin exclaimed once he realized why Jon had been staring at his ankles. “I swear I typically dress nicer than this, I just… it’s been a really tough week.”
“Of course, no worries, Mr. Blackwood. I completely understand.”
“You can call me Martin. I mean, Christ, you’ve already gotten farther with me than my last few boyfriends.” Martin said, plopping down in the plush desk chair situated in front of Jon’s desk as the man’s face turned red.
“I find that hard to believe.” Jon muttered under his breath.
“Are you calling me easy, Mr. Sims?” Martin asked, expression flickering between genuine hurt and amusement.
“No! God, no, I just find it hard to believe that if- Good Lord, I’m going to sound like such a bloody creep, but I promise I’m not.”
“I have a pretty high bar for what counts as creepy, Jon. I even had a customer slap my arse not too long ago.” Martin joked.
“What? Who?” Jon asked, looking furious and ready to fling all 150 pounds of nerd towards Martin’s mentioned assailant, blushing in embarrassment once again as he realized Martin was referring to him. “Ah. I know Tim has likely said this a thousand times, but I truly am sorry for any distress I may have inadvertently caused.”
“It was an accident, Jon. Continue with what you were saying earlier.”
“Right. I suppose hoping you’d forget about our previous conversation was too much to ask for.” Jon sighed, carrying on with his previous train of thought. “If I- or, um, any man, really. I don’t know why I specifically referenced myself, but… If some man, not me specifically, but not not me, if that makes any sense, were to be in a relationship with you, I’d imagine they’d want to appreciate certain assets of yours, sexually or otherwise.”
“Assets?” Martin repeated, looking confused. “Unless there’s some cameras you’ve installed in my apartment and not told me about, I don’t think you’ve ever seen my ‘assets’.” Martin continued, gesturing vaguely at his crotch.
“I haven’t! I just meant that you- Lord help me, you have a rather nice bum.” Jon finished lamely, staring intensely at the blank paper in front of him.
“So you did do it on purpose!” Martin cried out triumphantly. “I knew your hand lingered too long to be accidental!”
“What? No, it was still very much an accident, Martin! Accidents can be pleasant as well!” Jon countered, shoulders hunched defensively.
“Pleasant like my bum?” Martin repeated teasingly.
“Yes, pleasant like your bum! Now can we please focus on your mother’s funeral!”
“Wow, romance truly is dead.” Martin said dryly.
“We can… Um, obviously as a professional I can’t ask out my clients, but! If you happen to be at the bookstore down the street in 5 hours then obviously you wouldn't be my client at that time and we could… talk. If you'd like." Jon rambled nervously.
"I would love that, Jon."
It's months later until Jon finally decides to go back to the cafe he was once so publicly banned from. Patrons who had been there long enough to recognize Jon's face from the posters glared at Jon as he entered the establishment.
"Jon! You finally came!" Tim cheered, momentarily pausing his attempt at switching the salt and sugar containers.
"Well, you've been so persistent about it, I figured there must be something in this cafe worthwhile." Jon said tersely.
"Well, I don't know about you… but I come back to see the drop dead gorgeous barista that Melanie selfishly keeps on the clock rather than on this-"
"Stoker, I will ban you like I banned Jon." Came Melanie's voice from her office.
"I can't believe Melanie banned het relationships." Sasha whispered jokingly to Tim, who snorted good-naturedly.
"Drop dead gorgeous barista, huh?" Jon repeated quietly as his eyes tracked the employee who came bumbling out of the backroom and strided towards a now empty table, presumably to wipe it down, not noticing Jon's presence as he passed him.
Without making too big a deal of it, Jon walked over to the busy young man as he bent over the tabletop to reach a knocked over salt shaker, and very purposefully palmed his ass.
"Jon!" Martin squeaked in embarrassment.
"Yeah, what the fuck, Jon. You can't just-" Tim began angrily, confused as to why Sasha stood there with a soft smile as she watched Martin spin around and place his hand gently on the side of Jon's face and, instead of slapping him like last time, leaned in to give him a kiss that Jon happily returned.
"Ok, what the hell is happening?" Tim asked, confused.
"This is not what I thought you meant when you said you wanted to tell everyone we're dating." Martin said, ignoring Tim's question.
"In my defense, hearing you squeak is still adorably funny." Jon replied, a mischievous look in his eyes that Tim had never seen in all his years of working alongside Jon.
"While this is all very exciting, let me be perfectly clear." Melanie said as she leaned against the doorframe of her office. "If there is any more butt touching of any kind in my cafe, I will make Jon's punishment look like child's play, understand?"
"Yes, ma'am." Tim, Sasha, Martin, and Jon all reply in unison.
"Good. Also, congrats you two. Don't fuck it up, Jon." Melanie called over her shoulder before heading back to finish up her seemingly unending paperwork.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Melanie." Jon mumbled once the door closed behind her.
"So- um, Georgie and then Martin, huh? Think you might have a type, mate." Tim joked.
"Oh my God, he totally does!" Martin exclaimed. "He keeps denying it but like… what're the odds?"
"I do not have a type. Martin and Georgie have nothing in common." Jon said defensively.
"Well, I mean… nothing except for their… you know?" Sasha chimed in, pantomiming what Jon could only assume was supposed to be a rather large butt.
"He likes big butts and he always lies." Tim muttered with a barely restrained smile.
"Is it still a fetish if the person who's into it is asexual?" Martin wondered aloud, knowing that both Sasha and Tim were aware of Jon's biromantic identity and having already discussed with Jon who he was and wasn't comfortable disclosing this to.
"I do not have a fetish for big butts!" Jon yelled, causing the rest of the cafe to fall silent.
"Sounds like something someone with a big butt fetish would say." Sasha added with a giggle.
"Well, love is stored in the ass, Sasha." Tim replied in a pseudo-wise tone.
"Poor Sasha." Jon remarked dryly, pointingly looking unimpressed by Tim's objectively flat ass.
"It’s a normal sized bum, Jon! Just cause you date a man whose cheeks clap every time he breathes-"
"Now, wait a minute-" Martin interjected, playfully offended at Tim's rant.
"-doesn't mean everyone else has to live up to that standard as well." Tim said, arms crossed childishly as Sasha made a half-assed attempt at soothing him.
"Oh, Tim… I love you and your flat arse." Sasha teased.
"IT'S NOT FLAT!"