Chapter Text
“Some day you’re gonna have to ask him for his name, you know,” Hunk teased.
Shiro looked resolutely down at the bags of herbs in his hands and ignored the warmth in his cheeks. If they’d had this conversation once, they’d had it a dozen times, and it never got any less embarrassing than the first.
“Shiro, come on, man,” Hunk cajoled. “He comes in every week . You’re totally gone on the guy, you might as well make a move.”
“Hunk,” Shiro groaned, knocking his forehead on the shelf in front of him. “I don’t know a thing about him, and making advances on someone while I’m working is so inap--”
“Hasn’t stopped Lance,” Hunk laughed. “And you still keep him around.”
“Yeah, well, we all make mistakes,” Shiro said wryly.
“And yours consist of falling head over heels for a regular and never doing anything about it,” Hunk said.
He would have come across as wise had he not punctuated the statement by leaning on the cash register and accidentally unlocking it so that the box jabbed him in the stomach as it opened. He yelped and rubbed the offended area, pouting at the register as if it was the one at fault.
“Look man, all I’m saying is that you should at least give it a try,” Hunk said at last. “Worst case scenario? He’s not interested, you go about your separate ways, but at least then you know . Isn’t that better than sorting through shelves and driving yourself nuts thinking about him?”
Shiro sighed and carefully placed the remaining bags in their proper places before turning to face Hunk. His friend leaned against the counter, his broad build shadowing most of the display behind him and his thick arms folded on the glass surface. To an outsider he might have looked intimidating. However, his dark eyes were kind and Shiro knew better than most--though not so well as Lance--that there wasn’t a mean bone in his body. Whatever he said or did, he always meant well.
“Hunk, it’s really not that important,” Shiro said, running a hand over his hair. “He’s just--he’s just a customer, don’t look so much into it.”
Hunk raised a thick eyebrow at him, clearly unimpressed, but he didn’t say anything more on the subject. Relieved, Shiro began scanning the other shelves for low stock or misplaced items. It happened a lot. His supply store was fairly small and focused on herbs and spices and the like, though there was a limited flower section in one corner, and customers often mistook one herb for another. At least, Shiro liked to think it was a simple mistake, rather than the lot of them being too lazy to put a jar or packet back in its proper place.
“Oh, hey, look at the time,” Hunk said, breaking Shiro from his mental stock-taking. “I’ve gotta bounce, I, uh, have a date at...seven!”
Shiro frowned and glanced down at his watch. The digital read 15:57.
“Hunk, that’s not for another three hours. We’re closing in thirty--”
“It takes time to get all this presentable!” Hunk said, posing like Captain Morgan.
Shiro’s frown deepened as Hunk scrambled into the back room and emerged seconds later without his apron and holding his backpack. Despite his confusion, Shiro didn’t attempt to pull Hunk back.
“Hope you don’t mind taking care of this last customer for me!” Hunk said as he dashed out the front. “See you later!”
A sense of foreboding washed over Shiro and he was not surprised in the slightest when the door wasn’t given a chance to swing shut behind Hunk. A young man entered just as Shiro’s employee bolted, and Shiro felt his stomach lurch. The man was about average height, with a slender build and sharp features. His skin was the color of honey, his hair dark and cut unevenly so that it was shorter around his face and longer in the back, like a shaggy mullet, and his eyes were dark and almond-shaped.
Today he wore a burgundy short-sleeved t-shirt that stretched a little across his broad shoulders and his hands slid into the pockets of dark jeans tucked into ox blood combat boots. Usually he wore a jacket, but with the weather warming up Shiro supposed it made sense for him to forego it. His bare arms were well-muscled but lean rather than thick.
“Welcome,” Shiro greeted, hurrying behind the counter.
The man looked around at him and his full lips turned up in a small smile.
“Hey,” he greeted in a soft, rough voice.
He started his usual perusal of the shelves, picking something up on occasion and then setting it back--where it belonged, Shiro noted--before moving on. Sometimes he kept the jar or pouch as he browsed, slowly building his newest purchase.
“Big Man sure was in a hurry,” the man said after a moment. Shiro jumped.
“Who, Hunk?” he said, forcing a chuckle. “Said he had a date.”
“Figures,” the customer snorted. “He almost ran me over to get out of here. I thought you might’ve fired him.”
“I’d never fire Hunk,” Shiro denied at once. “He’s a great guy and a hard worker.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” the other man said.
As he reached for something on a higher shelf, Shiro caught sight of a line of black on his forearm. Narrowing his eyes, he made out the impression of an arrow before the man retracted his arm and he lost sight of it.
“Is that a tattoo on your arm?” he asked.
The man jerked around toward him, almost losing his grip on the items in his hand, then looked down at his forearm. A ‘v’ appeared between his eyebrows and Shiro wondered if it was weird for him to comment on it, but just as quickly as it came the troubled look fell from the man’s features.
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “I figured you would’ve seen it before, but I guess I’m usually wearing a jacket.”
“Can I see?” Shiro asked, pointing.
The man hesitated, his dark eyes scrutinizing Shiro’s face. Apparently finding nothing distasteful, he approached the counter and sat his things on it. Then he held his arm out in front of him for Shiro to see, brushing away a few stray bits of leaf or twig.
“A compass?” Shiro questioned.
It was, though perhaps it was a bit more fancy than your average nautical equipment. The letters for each direction were done in intricate, flowing script and the compass itself, while maintaining the cardinal and ordinal directions, had a great many more ticks on it than eight. Surrounding it seemed to be the phases of the moon, with the full moon sitting at north and the new moon sitting at south.
“Yep,” the man answered, pulling his arm back.
“Were your parents sailors?” Shiro asked.
He’d known a few people with parents in the navy or else were marine biologists who had gotten similar tattoos before. The moon phases were new, but then the moon was often connected to the ocean.
“I wouldn’t know,” his client said with a shrug. “Never knew them.”
Shiro blinked. Then the apologies began.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean--”
“Relax, it’s not a big deal,” said the man with a roll of his eyes.
“But I--”
“I told you, it’s fine,” the man said firmly. “Now are you gonna let me check out without apologizing my ears off or am I gonna have to come back when Big Man is working?”
Neck and ears burning, Shiro nodded mutely and began ringing up the man’s purchases, subconsciously making note of each item. Sage, eucalyptus, cedar chips, rosemary, as per usual; cloves, not as common for the man but not unfamiliar; violets, also uncommon. Once Shiro had asked him what he did with so many herbs every week, but he’d only shrugged his shoulders and mumbled something that sounded like “stuff.” So Shiro hadn’t asked again.
As he handed the bag of herbs to the man in exchange for a twenty and a ten, Hunk’s words came back to Shiro.
You’re totally gone on the guy, you might as well make a move.
Shiro grit his teeth, handed his customer the change, and took a deep breath.
“Hey, I was thinking,” he started, mouth dry, but the man cut him off with a yelp of shock. His wide eyes were fixed on the watch on his unmarked wrist.
“Damn, I’m gonna be late to work!” he cried, hurriedly stuffing his change into his pockets and racing for the door. “Sorry, thanks again!”
“No problem…” Shiro sighed at the door as it swung shut.
He glanced down at his watch, noted that it was only ten minutes away from closing, and opted to shut down a little early.
“Man, if this guy doesn’t get how awesome you are, he’s clearly not worth the trouble.”
“Lance…” Shiro sighed from his friend’s chair.
After his somewhat disappointing evening, Shiro had decided to pay his friend a visit and had gone to his house. Lance had been all too happy to invite him inside and offer to grab him a beer or some whiskey, but he’d politely settled for water. Now he sat in the armchair in Lance’s living room while the latter sprawled over the entirety of his own couch, long legs hanging over the end and one arm resting on the floor. Somehow he still managed to make it look comfortable, a feat Shiro wouldn’t have imagined possibly with his tall and lanky ass, but everyone had their talents.
“Come on, Shiro,” Lance said. “You’re not exactly the most subtle when you like someone, so either he’s the most oblivious asshole in the universe or he’s--”
“Not interested,” Shiro finished calmly. “It might interest you to know, but the majority of the population is, in fact, still straight Lance.”
At that his friend scoffed and waved away his words.
“Oh please, numbers and statistics,” he said airily. “No one in their right mind would find you unattractive.”
The fact that he was looking at Shiro upside-down took some of the solemnity from his words.
“You know, I feel like you’re trying to make me feel better, but it’s not really helping,” Shiro said with a slight smirk. Lance held his hands up in surrender.
“Hey man, I’m trying my best,” he said. Some of the mischief faded from his expression. “Seriously though, Shiro. You’re really hung up on this guy, and you don’t even know if he knows you exist. You’ve gotta do something .”
“I know, I know,” Shiro said wearily, running a hand over his tired face. “I just don’t know what . He’s always so--I don’t know, Lance, I really don’t know.”
Lance gave him a long, searching look, then sighed and pushed himself into a more dignified sitting position. Shiro watched him cautiously.
“Alright, I say you take the day off tomorrow,” Lance said. “Me and Hunk can handle the store. You need some time to decompress and just relax , and you’re not going to do that if you’re in the store where he keeps showing up--and yet somehow I still haven’t met him, by the way, don’t think I haven’t noticed that.”
Shiro’s lips curved and he took a drink of water to hide his grin. It was no accident that Lance was never working when the object of Shiro’s affections turned up. He knew as soon as the two of them met Lance would jump on that man’s case just because of Shiro’s infatuation, finding any excuse to hate the guy simply because Shiro was stressed out over him. So, like any sensible person, he scheduled Lance on days that the man had never come in and had Hunk work Thursdays and most weekends. The other man didn’t seem to mind, and he always let Shiro know well in advance if he wasn’t going to be free so that he had time to plan a day working solo.
“What am I going to do with an entire day off?” Shiro demanded.
He could take a run or go to the gym. That was how he normally spent his free time. However, those only took up a fraction of a full day, and his mind could wander during those, so he’d probably end up thinking about his mysterious not-really-a-stranger anyway.
“I dunno,” Lance said with a shrug. “Go get that tattoo you’ve been wanting! A whole day of nothing is a great time to get jabbed with inky needles.”
Shiro frowned at his explanation of tattoos, but he didn’t argue. Lance saw his hesitation and pounced.
“See? It’s perfect,” Lance said, puffing out his chest. “Hunk and I work tomorrow and you go get that ridiculous thing Allura drew for you.”
“It’s not ridiculous,” Shiro said at once.
“For a first time tattoo? Oh yeah it is,” Lance snorted. “That puppy’s huge .”
“It’s not a puppy,” Shiro said.
“Oh I’m sorry, would you rather I said kitty?” Lance mocked.
Shiro rolled his eyes.
“Whatever you say,” he chuckled. Lance’s eyebrows arched.
“You waving the white flag?” he challenged.
“It doesn’t sound like I have much choice,” Shiro said dryly.
Lance jumped up and punched the air.
“Woo, yeah!” he crowed. “Lance just talked some prime sense into Shiro, today’s a--”
“You talked me into ditching work to get a tattoo,” Shiro interrupted. “I don’t think that’s sensible.”
Lance waved away his concern.
“I’m gonna go call in your appointment right now,” he said, and darted off with phone in hand before Shiro could splutter any sort of complaint.
“I don’t know what I would do if I was trapped in the same place as him for any extended period of time,” he grumbled to himself. “He’s like a twelve-year-old.”
Shaking his head, Shiro clambered to his feet and carried his empty water glass to the kitchen sink. When he returned to the living room Lance was pacing with his cell pressed to his ear.
“It’s a pretty big one,” he said. “The earlier you can get me in, the better, probably.”
Shiro could hear the other person’s voice, but he couldn’t distinguish actual words.
“Do it in parts?” Lance repeated for Shiro’s benefit.
Immediately Shiro shook his head, mouthing ‘no’ and gesturing emphatically with his arms. Lance seemed quite amused by his nonverbal communication, but gave him a thumbs-up and relayed Shiro’s answer.
“Alright, tomorrow at eleven,” Lance said with a grin. “Cool, I’ll be there.”
The person on the other end said something else.
“Oh, the name’s Shirogane,” Lance said.
With that, he hung up the call and crossed his arms over his chest, grinning cheekily.
“ You have an appointment to get inked up tomorrow at--”
“Eleven. I know. I heard,” Shiro chuckled.
Lance’s cheeks darkened a little and he coughed.
“Uh, yeah,” he said. “Well, if I’m gonna work tomorrow, I should probably turn in soon. I trust you can find the front door yourself?”
“Yes, I think so,” Shiro agreed.
“Well then, oh captain my captain,” Lance said, straightening up in a decent salute. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, cadet,” Shiro laughed.
He let himself out, feeling marginally lighter and maybe a little excited for tomorrow. He thought about the drawing Allura had given him, pinned up on the wall in his apartment, and how long he’d been wanting to get it as a tattoo. That was why Allura had originally drawn it for him, but that had been over a month ago, and he’d simply been too busy to make time for something like that.
He was glad he’d come to see Lance. He was a good friend and incredibly helpful when push came to shove, if not in the most conventional of ways.
Shiro strutted to his truck with a new spring in his step.