"I swear I'm fucking quitting."
"You say that every day, babe. I'm starting to think you don't mean it." Omega smiles gently and reaches over to straighten Alpha's visor. "It's just another few months. It was your idea to take a gap year road trip."
Alpha huffs and digs a rag out from under the counter, looking for something to wipe down for the thousandth time. "And I'm an idiot for turning down my moms when they offered to pay for the trip. No, I wanted to be independent, get a job. Now I'm stuck slinging coffee in a corporate prison. This music is making me want to commit a fucking murder."
Omega turns from where he's been stacking paper cups, glancing sneakily around the cafe before leaning in to press a quick peck to Alpha's frowning lips. "At least we're here together."
Before he can get too far, Alpha tugs him closer and kisses him again, smiling now. "Fuck yeah, dude. You're the only thing making this shit bearable."
Omega felt the same, but honestly? He's always felt like that. Alpha had been the only one he could always count on. He would have never made it through high school without Alpha by his side. And when Omega had came out two years ago, everything had changed for the better. Omega still couldn't believe that he was the one Alpha had chosen. A sweet, smart, handsome, funny, amazing person like him could have had his pick of partners. And he'd picked Omega. Fuck, he's so lucky.
Omega's dad and Alpha's moms all seemed to know this was coming, so no one is surprised at the shift in the relationship. After they get back from their trip, they're probably going to get their own place, that is if they don't end up living on the university campus when they start school. Omega hasn't decided on a major yet, still not sure what he wants his future to look like. But that's Future Omega's problem. All Present Omega has to do is get through this shift, and it's almost over.
Omega is clearing some cups off a table by the door, balancing them on a tray. He distantly registers the sound of the bell above the cafe's door jingling merrily as someone enters the shop, but he's too focused on his tray of dishes to pay much attention to where he's going.
He only makes it a few steps before he trips over the leg of a chair and bumps into a table, pitching forward. "Woah there, turbo," says a smooth, deep voice, as two strong hands catch him seemingly out of nowhere. Disaster narrowly avoided, Omega straightens up, beet red and falling back into his familiar slouch, tray of dishes rattling quietly as he makes sure his grip on them is secure.
Glancing up at his savior, Omega just flushes a deeper red. Of course, he'd have to be rescued from his own clumsiness by the literal embodiment of 'business chic'. The guy is a bit shorter than him, (Omega was also wearing platform converse, so that may have added to it), wavy dark hair layered artfully in a short haircut Omega is sure cost as much as he makes in a week. Dark eyes, his left eye containing a smudge of light blue, almost white, in the iris. A straight nose, a wide, generous mouth--this dude looks like Keanu Reeves fifteen years ago, all fresh faced and lean, handsome enough to warrant a second, longer look. He's wearing a suit, such a dark navy blue it's almost black. No tie, which is a surprise for how clean-cut the rest of him is. Instead, his shirt is open at the collar, a few buttons popped to show a tantalizing hint of chest.
"You do know you've been staring at me silently for two solid minutes, right?" Full lips tilt in a smirk, somewhere between teasing and mocking. Mystery man leans in, making a show of checking Omega's name tag. Omega can hear the soft inhale, and Omega returns the gesture before he thinks the better of it, a wave of cool and clean scent making him tingle. Omega hasn't noticed anyone like this since he and Alpha became an item, but something about this man is oddly compelling.
"Is there something I can help you with, Omega?" Not-Keanu's voice has gone a little rougher, as if he liked what he got from Omega. Like he might want to tuck his face into Omega's throat and breathe him in.
"Omeg-ah?" Omega replies stupidly, realizing what he said a second later. "Oh god. I have to...be with the cups now." He hurries past the dude, into the kitchen in the back of the cafe where customers aren't allowed. He's not sure why he reacted like that, tripping over his own tongue like he's back in senior year and just came out, following his nose and his dick wherever they lead.
It doesn't matter. He'll put the dishes in the washer and when he's done, the guy will have his drink and be long gone. A guy like that definitely has better places to be than sitting in some coffee shop sipping chai and reading the paper. Omega zones out for a bit, loading up the dishwasher with mugs and cups, and after a while, he's forgotten all about the weirdly-hot stranger who kept him from breaking an entire tray of dishes.
Omega comes out in a much better mood, nodding at Alpha, who is chatting with one of their regulars. He scans the shop to see if anything needs his immediate attention, and stops short. Not-Keanu is still there, sitting at the very same table Omega tripped into, drinking a tall iced coffee. He stands up gracefully when he sees Omega, taking a moment to straighten his suit jacket.
Crossing the cafe in long strides, the guy pauses at the counter and holds something out to Omega. Another whiff of that cold, fresh scent teases Omega's nose, his nostrils flaring to get a deeper draw of the addictive smell. "My card," the man explains, flashing Omega a charming smile. "I think I could really help you, Omega."
"Help me?" Omega takes the card, looking down at it like he's never seen a business card before. Well, he's definitely never been given one before, he's 19, what the fuck is networking?
Terzo
Consultant
The bold black lettering on the white card is minimalist, but modern, the kind of card someone would use if they knew they didn't have to worry about using the card to make an impression. The kind of card someone would use if they knew they, themselves, were charismatic and memorable enough to stick in anyone's mind. On the back of the card is a phone number.
"Help me with what?" Omega asks.
"Whatever you need, Omega. Call me."
"Wait, I don't know your name, who do I ask for?"
The guy turns back and tips his head at the paper Omega is still holding. "It's on the card, Omega, and I'm almost certain you can read it. My name is Terzo."
The guy--Terzo, apparently, grabs his coffee off the table, and he's out the door before Omega can think of a single thing to say.
"What was that about?" Alpha asks, putting an arm around Omega's shoulder.
Looking down at the card like more information is going to suddenly appear on it, Omega just shakes his head. "I can honestly say I have no fucking clue."
