Had A Tea (Prompt 3 - Mark Cohen)

[dragonessasmith.livejournal.com]

Title: Had A Tea
Author: dragonessasmith
Rating: T
fic_variations Prompt/Claim: Work // Mark Cohen
Spoilers: La Vie Boheme
Warnings: Minor Characters
Words:
Count: 3/5
Author's Notes: I blame this one on the actor who played the waiter from the Life Café the last time I went and saw RENT. During the line '…faggots, lezzies, dykes, crossdressers too…' he grinned and shrugged his shoulders in a very…coy way. That's all I need sometimes...



"You again?"

I looked up, barely bothering to act annoyed as the kid with the glasses slid through the doors as quickly as possible, brushing snow from his hair.

"Yes, I know. Some people have steady jobs. Weird, isn't it?"

"Don't take that tone with me."

"You may be Jewish, but you're about twenty years and a sex change away from using that line and getting away with it."

"Fine, fine." Glasses grinned. "How about a cup of tea? I need something warm."

"Coming right up." I turned around, grabbing one of the bags of green tea he always orders. "How's your friend doing? Haven't seen him in a while."

"Five and a half months, to be exact."

"What's he doing up there, composing symphonies?"

"Kinda." Glasses wasn't exactly smiling anymore, and I decided to change subjects.

"How's the girlfriend?"

Wrong way. Glasses wasn't smiling at all anymore.

"Film anything interesting lately?"

"Well, kinda…"

Just like that, he was off again, babbling about some script he's been working on about his friend who moved to Massachusetts to teach. I serve his tea up and lean against the counter, listening to him go on and on. It's cute, almost, I think to myself, the way he gets so wrapped up in what he's talking about when he talks about his work.

Janelle thinks I have a crush on this guy, and she's right, I guess. Who wouldn't? He's completely adorable, the quintessential 'starving artist', and it doesn't hurt that his glasses magnify his eyes so you can't help staring at them, and-

"Can you?"

"What?" I cringed slightly, realizing he'd asked me a question.

He's holding out his empty cup towards me. "Can you just add a bit more hot water? Please? I really need to warm up a bit.”

“Sure.” I turned around, heading for the sink. “I thought you looked a bit pale when you walked in, but I figured it was just the cold.”

“Oh, no, that was probably just the ‘not eating anything’ thing and…what?” He frowned slightly as I half-turned and glared at him over my shoulder.

“What have you had?”

“What?”

"What have you had today? To eat."

"I had cereal this morning."

"It's five in the afternoon. What are you having for dinner? What’s your friend having for dinner?"

"We have...more cereal at home."

"You're also gonna have two cups of miso soup in a minute." I muttered, turning towards the stove.

"What? No, don't-you'll get in trouble, won't you?"

"Unless I give you guys gallons of the stuff every day, no. It's impossible to inventory the soup."

"I really can't-"

"You can't sleep on an empty stomach, and I can't sleep knowing you two are freezing and starving up there."

His shoulders fell in a defeated posture. "Thanks."

"You guys have spoons?"

"We're not completely hopeless."

"Good."

"There are people starving all over the city, you know." He added absently, staring at the Styrofoam cups as I filled them almost to the brim.

"Trickle down economics in progress. You care about them, you share your soup with them."

He quirked an eyebrow. "You only share soup with people you care about?"

"Yeah. I've formed an attachment to you and your bi-weekly seventy cent cups of tea."

His face fell suddenly.

"You don't have seventy cents, do you?"

"I'm so sorry-"

"Get it next time." I sighed, gesturing towards the door. "Get it next time. Feed your friend now."

“Thank you. So much.” Glasses grinned, slipping off the stool and outside. “I will totally get it next time, and these if I can, just…thanks again!”

I watched him head down the block, mentally shaking myself for being such a chicken.

"We don't inventory soup?" Janelle hissed in my ear, making me jump. She grinned as I glared at her. "Come on, Jake. I've heard better lines in a crack house."

"It wasn't a line.” I muttered defensively. “I make the soup, I count the soup at the end of the day."

"You can't give away food to every guy you crush on, you know."

"I know."

She tapped a pen against the counter, looking over at me again. "Did you at least get his name finally?"

"Next time. Next time I'm gonna get his name."

“You’ve said that since the first time you saw him walk through those doors.” She smiled at me. “You're hopeless."

"You're mean."

"Next time, Jacob. Next time."