Chapter Text
The day started just like every other day had.
Sun shining in the sky, a deception as winter is near and so a coat is necessary even on the shortest of journeys, and the smell of coffee wafting through the small flat.
Flynn Brown has lived in the space above Tales of Time bookshop for 5 years now.
They’d been offered the place to live by the owner not long after they started working there. He’s an older Scottish man who never really seems to be around, gives them free rein over what happens there, so it’s more like they own the place really.
As the name might suggest, it used to be a shop mainly of historical book, and they still get a lot of customers looking for that reading material and they still sell them of course, but it has expanded so the shop now houses every genre. It was done in hope to also expanded the types of visitors that came, it had sort of worked, maybe more of a work in progress.
The flat is small.
Cosy.
The kitchen is just a fridge, oven and three counters, one of which has a sink, across a single wall with the living room opposite which has a sofa, small coffee table and tv as well as piles of books on the floor due to there being no more room left on the shelves. The walls are fairly bare, the only things hanging up are a poster of their favourite movie and a large cork board filled with postcards, photos, polaroids and little trinkets. Off that space is the door to their bedroom which has the bathroom attached.
It wasn’t much, but to Flynn it’s perfect.
They could easily get themself a bigger place but why would they move when they live above where they work which also happens to be one of their favourite places in the whole city. Besides, it might be small but Flynn only eats and sleeps there, spending most of their time in the shop and their days off usually with friends or at their other favourite spots.
Only being above the shop also has the bonus of not having to go out in the cold on days like this, just taking the stairs which come out in the small office behind the desk and that’s it. Also means there’s no worry about a morning rush because it’s very unlikely that they’ll be a traffic jam on the stairs.
It’s just Flynn working today, Thursday’s aren’t the busiest of days in a shop that’s not always packed anyway, Amy joins them most days but there’s the occasional day where it’s just Flynn. Which is fine, perfect really, because they just use any quiet time to look through the books, check they’re still in the right places or just grab one to read themself.
Amy had started working there a four years ago and the two of them hit it off straight away, both sharing a love, not just for books, but travel.
They shared many a story on that first day of working together of the places they’ve visited and wish to visit. Amy also mentioning her want to write her own book, one she eventually started last year and has now almost finished.
You would think that the two of them have known each other for longer than the four years they actually have, it’s a friendship that Flynn feels lucky to have, Amy feels like the closest thing to a sibling that they got.
Flynn currently sits on the sofa holding their coffee in both hands, feet up on the coffee table, staring at the fluffy blue socks that cover them while they decide which cereal to have this morning.
The cat in their lap softly purrs away, already fallen back to sleep having jumped up to join them after having his breakfast.
They had acquired their feline friend last summer when the door of the shop had been left open due to the heatwave and so he was able to just wonder in, most likely for shelter from the sun.
It was clear straight away he was either a stray or hadn’t been looked after, he was skinny and his fur was matted in places, the way he eyed up the sandwich they had for lunch that day said enough about when the last time he ate probably was. They had taken some of the egg out the sandwich and placed in on the floor and it was gone in a second, after that they decided he needed the sandwich more than them and so broke up the half that remained for him.
He had no collar and, after a visit to the vet, it was found he had no chip too. Flynn did what they felt was right and looked after him, the vet had told them that he was healthy just in need of food and water and of course care, but also to put up a small poster in the shop window in case anyone was searching for him.
After two weeks the poster came down and he officially became theirs.
They called him Egg.
It was partly due to that being the first meal they gave him but also because, as they so lovingly told him, he looked like one. He was white with orange splotches, the name is perfect.
Egg has lived in the cosy flat with them for just over a year now, also has his own spot at the desk downstairs in the shop. He’s definitely well looked after and fed now.
Speaking of food...
They really should be getting something for themself but the heat from the mug and the cat keeps them there.
It’s not like it’s possible for them to be late for work anyways, they could leave everything until 5 minutes before the shop is due to open and would still be fine.
And there’s 20 minutes to go so, more than okay.
The rumble of their stomach is their cue and with that Flynn finishes off the last of their coffee and scratches Egg’s ear which gently wakes him up and once he’s moved from their lap they get up, leaving the mug on the side and getting out a bowl and spoon on the way to their bedroom. A reminder for when they come out otherwise they’ll inevitably go down to the shop without having anything and then wonder why they feel so hungry at lunch time.
In no time Flynn’s stripped off the dinosaur print shorts and blue t-shirt they’d worn to bed and is jumping in the shower and then 10 minutes later jumping back out again. They towel dry the ends of their hair that had gotten wet, throw the towel on the end of their bed and then grab out a shirt from their wardrobe which also lands on the bed, the other towel tied around their waist. Flynn can't help, like every morning, but check themself out in the mirror as they pass it.
It’s been just over two years now and yet seeing their body like this never stops giving them a boost of euphoria. They rub the scar cream in, something they still do every morning despite their chest being fully healed before grabbing the shirt from the bed.
There’s no work uniform but they always put in more of an effort in when they're in the shop, if anything for themself.
Flynn leaves the top button of the shirt undone and tucks the front into navy tartan trousers and then, looking in the mirror again, decide to undo another button leaving two open instead and meaning the necklace they put on next rests in the centre of their chest and is just visible. They gather half their almost shoulder length blonde hair into a little bun, leaving the small shaved portion on each side of their head visible, and quickly ties it before heading back into the main part of the flat.
The bowl on the side serves as the reminder they needed and, after checking the time, Flynn decides to do what they usually end up doing and eat downstairs. They quickly make up the bowl of cereal, put everything away and then grabs their boots, slipping them on before collecting the bowl and the keys off the hook by the door, quickly grabbing their glasses that they’d almost forgotten off the side.
They wait a moment as Egg climbs up their back and finds his place on their shoulders, another part of the routine Flynn finds themself doing every morning. With him comfortably secure they head down to open up the shop.
“Mornin’ guys.” Flynn greets the books as per after switching on the lights. “Looking beautiful as ever.”
To anyone it would seem strange but it’s become a habit, after all they were once trees which are sort of a living thing, right?
The soft glow of the lights brings the place to life, the old wooden shelves bring a warmth to the place, it feels homely. It’s clear why those that do visit regularly love it here so much, there’s such a comfort about it. There’s a few who come just to sit and read in the little room they have off the main shop, the mustard yellow sofa and chair a little warn from use but still look incredibly inviting. The dark blue walls adding more colour amongst all the wooden furniture, the words “we’re all stories in the end...” written in script across the beam that separates the shop from what’s been dubbed as the reading cave.
Flynn next heads over to the front door and pulls up all the binds, letting more light in before unlocking it and turning the hanging sign to show ‘open’, the path and cars outside the shop are coved in frost which tells them just how cold it is out there.
Egg has already found his place, jumping off their shoulders and onto the desk, curling up in the little bed there as soon as they walked in.
He usually either stays there most of the day or wanders around, maybe even curls up of the sofa instead.
There’s a sign that up at the window which let’s people know about him in case they have allergies or just aren’t a cat person.
Once everything is sorted Flynn makes themself comfortable on the chair behind the counter, rolls up their sleeves, put their glasses on as they collect the book sitting under the desk, and tucks into their food knowing that it’ll probably be another hour before they actually have a customer. Plenty of time to eat and then check the shelves.
Just as they sit back the door opens.
So much for that hour to themself.
By midday Flynn’s had a total of about 5 customers.
Not bad so far but it does leave them wondering how they keep going, it’s been like this ever since they started working here and yet there’s never been any worry about the place possibly closing.
They’re far from complaining of course, they would hate for anything to happen to this place.
After checking the time, Flynn decides they’ll give it a couple more minutes before they head a few doors down to the diner and get their usual lunch.
Clara’s has been a favourite of Flynn’s for a couple of years now and on work days there’s a guarantee that when they walk through those doors their favourite fried egg sandwich will be with them in seconds. The owner, Clara – obvious by the name, has been a friend since primary school.
They'd been through a lot together, she’d been there for Flynn much more than a friend should.
They were, and still are, very grateful for her.
Well, she was a friend and also ex-girlfriend, but luckily they ended on good terms and their long friendship was still solid, if not the strongest it's ever been.
Clara’s original dream was to be an English teacher but then she developed a passion for baking and cooking and so, with the help of their little friendship group that had grown over the years, her new dream of owning her own café/diner came true and Clara’s has been a favourite for many for a good two years now.
The two of them made a deal that, in exchange for their week of lunch, Clara can take a book of her choosing from the shop. A deal Flynn had to encourage her to take, she was going to let them have the food for free as a thank you for getting her where she is, but Flynn couldn’t let her do that.
After no sign of any customers Flynn gives Egg a scratch behind his ear as they rise from the chair.
“I’ll be 5 minutes. And, yes, I'll make sure Clara gives me your usual too, don’t worry, mate.”
He hardly stirs, just snuggles his head into the soft bed and purrs in acknowledgment.
Just as they get round to the front of the desk the door opens.
A woman who can’t be much younger than Flynn walks in, the tip of her nose and cheeks have a pink tinge from the cold outside, the slight dusting of frost outside a contrast to her dark eyes and hair and if she wasn’t wearing the cream bobble hat you could guarantee her ears would have the same hint of pink too.
“Nice and warm in here.” She says, rubbing her gloved hands together.
Her accent tells Flynn that she’s local and while of course it’s probably impossible for them to know everyone in Sheffield, they feel certain that had they seen this woman before they definitely would’ve remembered.
“Yeah,” Flynn replies and then points at Egg. “He gets grumpy when he’s cold.”
As if he knows they’re talking about him, the cat lets out a grumble.
The stranger laughs and Flynn decides there and then that they will do anything to get her to do that again. Not just because the sound made their heart feel fluttery but because of how gorgeous she looks when she laughs, even more than she already did which seems impossible.
“What’s his name?” She asks.
“Egg.”
“Egg? Seriously?”
“Deadly.”
“Hey, Egg.” She greets him, taking her gloves off to give him some attention, something he always appreciates. “Why Egg? I feel like there’s got to be a story there.”
The warm glow in the shop complements the woman immensely and it takes a second for Flynn’s brain to catch up with what they’ve been asked.
“Oh, erm, yeah.” They shuffle awkwardly, putting one hand in their trouser pocket and the other on the desk to lean on it, almost knocking over the cup of pens. “Shit. Sorry.” Flynn decide to stand properly instead, both hands in their trousers so not to knock anything else. “He was a stray, came in last summer, looked like he hadn’t eaten properly in weeks so I gave him the rest of my lunch, an egg sandwich. When I took him to the vet, he wasn’t chipped or anything, they said he was probably only about a year old and, yeah, no one claimed him so here he is.”
“So... he’s named after an Egg sandwich?” She raises a brow.
“Pretty much. Well, that and he kinda looks like an egg, all white and orange.”
"You work in a bookshop and the best you could come up with is Egg?” The customer shakes her head in amusement. “I won’t lie, I was expecting you to say he’s called Shakespeare or Heathcliff or, I don’t know, Oscar.”
“Why go with the obvious when you can keep people on their toes?” Flynn replies.
“Touché.”
They watch as Egg rolls over slightly, letting his tummy be scratched.
You could hardly say he’s the best to go off when it comes to whether someone is good or not, as long as he’s getting a stroke he’s happy, which may be slightly out of character for most cats but having lived with Flynn for over a year now he’s gotten too used to all the attention.
“Sorry, completely forgot my job for a minute. Are you looking for anything in particular or just browsing?”
“Just thought I'd have a browse, but if you have any suggestions...?” She leaves Egg alone, giving Flynn all her attention instead.
“Sure,” Flynn rubs their bare arm while they think, needing more information to narrow down their thoughts they decide to ask a few questions. “Any specific genre?”
“I’m up for anything.”
“Sci-fi?”
She nods in response.
“Romance?” They ask with a slight grimace.
“Yeah. Why do you look so disgusted by that, you not a romantic?” The question comes out in a laugh.
“Oh, I am, it’s just...” They scrunch their nose. “I find those books and movies unrealistic and corny, that kind of thing would never happen in real life. It’s like that new romcom that’s just come out, my mates keep trying to get me to go see it with them, what’s it called, 28 Days Later? No, that’s a horror.”
“3 Weeks Later?” The dark-haired woman suggests.
“That’s the one! Can already tell it’s gonna be so overdramatised, incredibly heterosexual and annoyingly predictable. I mean, they’re all the same! A woman who feels stuck in life or claims she isn’t looking for love ends up meeting a man, they fall for each other and it’s all a big bowl of cheese, there's a bit of angst in there, but you know in the end they end up together and all happy.”
Flynn’s rant has clearly amused her from the chuckle that leaves her lips.
“Yeah, you have a point there.”
“I know! They keep telling me to give it a chance, something about the lead actress being cute, I don’t know. Probably won’t though.” Flynn finishes their rant and gets back to business. “So, up for anything then?”
It hits Flynn how they just worded that question.
“Book wise. I mean book wise, obviously.”
“Obviously.” She responds with a smirk. “And yeah, as long as it’s good, I’m not too fussed.”
Lunch now completely forgotten, Flynn helps the customer find something she’ll enjoy.
They suggest all sorts, from books complied of fun short stories, to ones written by local authors – which is where they take the opportunity to plug the book Amy is currently writing. There are a few romantic novels that get pointed out, some of the more acceptable ones that others seem to have also enjoyed. Flynn shows clear enthusiasm when they reach the sci-fi books, an obvious favourite of theirs, showing her more options from there than any other but if the other woman noticed she didn’t point it out just watched them as they gave a better explanation of the book than the blurb ever could.
They just finished looking at the easy reads and small graphic novel section, some had been suggested if she was looking for something fun and short, that didn’t require too much focus but could still take you away somewhere.
"So, anything catch your eye?”
“Yeah, a few for sure.” She says, her eyes drift a little before meeting their hazel eyes again.
“I’ll let you have a look on your own, if you want any more help I'll just be at the desk.” Flynn points to the large wooden object where Egg still lays with their thumb, needing to sit down or do something that won’t be embarrassing themself in front of a beautiful stranger they are sure might have just checked them out.
“Okay. Thanks.”
It’s about ten minutes later when she arrives at the desk with three books. One being a sci-fi story about time travel that Flynn had gushed about, telling her how it was a favourite of theirs. The other two being a collection of short stories by a local author and a romance novel.
“Thought I'd risk a romance.”
“I’ll let it pass as you’ve also picked this one.” Flynn holds up the book with the time machine on the front. “An excellent choice.”
“Well, it was highly recommended.” She says with a wink.
A wink that has Flynn losing their grip on the book as they go to scan it, the small thud as it hits the desk causes the cats head to shoot up.
“Sorry, Egg.” They apologise, then turning to the customer to awkwardly do the same. “Sorry, lost my grip”
Flynn checks the book over in case it got damaged in the short fall, thankfully it didn’t, and continues to scan the others.
Once they’re done, they place them in a dark blue bag with the shops name on that they collect from the shelf under the desk, and then slides the bag over while the goods are paid for.
“All done.” They say as the card machine bleeps in approval. “I hope you enjoy them.”
“Maybe I'll pop in again and let you know.”
“Well, I'm here pretty much every day so, I look forward to hearing your review.” They surprise themself at how smooth that came out, especially after the mishap due to the wink.
The thought of seeing the woman in front of them again was something they hoped would happen, they want to see her again, really want to.
Egg receives a scratch and a goodbye and it’s only when the door is about to be opened that Flynn rounds the desk, realising they has no idea what the woman’s name is and that they had introduced the cat but not themself in the whole hour that she’d been there.
“I’m Flynn, by the way.”
With that she turns and brown eyes meet hazel for the last time that day.
“I’m Yaz. It was nice to meet you.” And before a response can be given the door closes and Yaz is gone.
“You too.” Flynn says to no one but themself. “Really nice.”
It’s well past their usual lunch time when they finally walk into Clara’s.
The small brunette instantly greeting them with a worried look and questioning as to why they’re so late, commenting that if they hadn’t been so busy she was going to send Rose over to make sure they hadn’t had a book shelf fall on them... again.
Within a few minutes Flynn’s sat on their usual stool at the bar with another coffee while Clara plates up their food.
The place is decorated like a proper American diner but has a few details around it that give it a café vibe too.
A true mix of the two.
The wall behind the bar is white and, alongside the menu and kitchen entrance, has a few records and road signs on it, the wall opposite is bare brick with red booths against it, the same style of booths also run across the back wall that’s painted with a mural of iconic American singers and actors, wooden tables between them. A row of smaller tables and red chairs go down the centre of the place.
“It was either that or you’d got your nose stuck in a book and lost track of time, wouldn’t be the first time you’d done that either.” Clara says, placing the egg sandwich in front of them, along with a small tub of something for Egg.
“I had a customer.”
“A customer? Really? Quick, Rose make a note of that.”
“She was the sixth today actually, so jot that down too.” Flynn joins in the jab.
“She? So not a weird old man looking for a history book?”
It had become a running joke, after all a lot of their customers did fit that description, with only a few younger people coming it to break the cycle, some coming in to use the reading cave as a study area.
It can get a bit boring serving the same predicable customers every day. The possibility of someone new coming in, someone different, excites them though, the possibility of being able to share all the worlds that live on those shelves with someone who’s only just diving into reading.
They definitely need to do something to the shop to make it more exciting and inviting.
“That was the first and third who came in. She’d just come in for a browse.”
“And..?”
“And?”
“Did she buy anything? I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me, because you weren’t just 10 minutes late, Flynn.”
“Oh, yeah, three books.”
Clara looks at them expectantly, waiting for more to be given, when Rose walks over having finished serving the customer who had been at the till when Flynn had walked in, free until the next person arrives. They now have both women on their case, waiting to hear more about the person who kept them from their lunch.
Rose squints her eyes.
“Was she hot?” She asks and Clara whacks her with the tea towel that hangs over her shoulder.
“Ow.” Rose rubs her arm as the brunette leans on the bar, closer to Flynn to see any change in their face as she repeats the question.
“Was she though?”
Flynn doesn’t get the chance to say anything, just opens their mouth as they beg for themself to say anything other than “yes”, but something on their face must give it away as they both fall onto each other laughing, a few customers raise their heads in the direction of the noise to see what’s going on before going back to their food.
“Flynnigan’s got a crush.” The nickname as well as the claim that comes out of Clara’s mouth causes them to roll their eyes.
“Fuck off.” They say, throwing a small piece of bread at her.
As if the universe is on Flynn’s side, the door opens and a family walks in meaning they’ll now be free from questioning, Clara gives them a look that tells them that the next time the friends see each other there will for sure be an interrogation.
It comes from a good place.
They haven’t really had a proper relationship since breaking up with Clara almost four years ago, just a few unserious flings that lasted a couple of weeks at most. A couple that were… complicated? Both for different reasons.
This might be the first time they’ve had a genuine interest in someone, but they’re torn on what to do.
The wink they had receive felt flirty, the comment before it had a flirty tone to it too, but could it have also been friendly? They were also still trying to work out if Yaz had checked them out at one point.
Maybe if she does return to the shop Flynn can see what happens, see if anything else is said or done that implies she might have an interest too.
Maybe talking to Clara and Rose will help. They could give them a rundown of what happened and see if they think it’s worth a try to get her number or ask her out of a coffee, just something.
It’s times like this they wish they were better at reading people and situations. It would be so much easier.
Flynn spends most of the rest of the day distracted, head full of deep brown eyes and a laugh that make their chest feel weird every time it replays in their head.
Thankfully only a few more customers come in, some books are nearly dropped and almost as many questions are half answered as they serve them. Not long later they find themself locking up the door, pulling down the blinds and Egg jumping on their shoulders again to go back upstairs as they bid the shop goodnight for the day.
The rest of the evening passes in a blur and when they lay in bed that night, with Egg curled up on the spare pillow next to them, their head is full with thoughts of possibilities, of replays of the interactions that have them full of hope.
Hope that they’ll at the very least see Yaz again.
The day ended unlike every other day had.