Tales from the Multiverse

Chat Up - Dan

Your fingers trail over the rack of shirts slowly, ticking past each hangar. You're not really paying any attention to what you're doing: you've gone on autopilot. What you're really focused on is the drop dead gorgeous guy rifling through a stack of skinny jeans on the other side of the shop.

After all, that's really why you took this job. You certainly didn't take it because of your undying passion for retail. Nope, when you applied you figured that if you're going to have to work, you might as well do it surrounded by eye candy.

If the regular clientele is eye candy, this guy is the jumbo chocolate Easter bunny with the creme-filled ears and the marshmallow eyes. He is absolutely stunning.

He shifts so that his back is to you and you practically pole vault over the rack of clothes in order to get a better look at his butt.

Mm girl. Dat ass.

A customer chooses that moment to tap you on the shoulder and be obnoxious. You pretend to listen to whatever problem they had and then refer them to the checkout desk (your go-to escapist routine [plan B is faking a dire need to urinate and exiting the premises at a sprint]). Impatiently, you turn around to continue admiring Mr Sex. Immediately you bump into a very solid chest.

"Oh! Excuse me!" he apologises, grabbing your arm to steady you.

You look up to snap at him and stop with your mouth hanging halfway open.

Would you look at that. It's Mr Sex.

He looks even better close up. You could lick his eyeballs; they just looked that deliciously brown. His face took the hotness meter and absolutely blew it out of the water (although he still wasn't quite as hot as Robert Downey Jr., somehow. Maybe if he was dressed in an iron death suit). You found yourself going glassy-eyed just looking at his fringe.

His eyes flick from side to side and he shifts awkwardly. "Well, um... Anyways..." he mumbles, sidestepping like he intends to move around you.

Quickly, you move into his path and flash him a smile. Better late than never. "Welcome to... The store you're... currently... in," you trail off, confidence wavering.

Mr Sex laughs a tiny bit, exposing his dimples and effectively causing you to come within inches of going into cardiac arrest. "You don't even know what shop you work in?"

You shrug. "Yeah, I'm just here for your pleasure." You feel your eyes go wide as moons as Mr Sex's grin widens and his eyes begin to twinkle. "I mean, I'm here for you. To please you. I mean, I'm just here to please people in general. I mean, I, I please, no, no. I, um, I - " you stammer, floundering in the bottomless depths of those beautiful dimples. You never stood a chance.

After watching you stutter and grow increasingly flustered for a few minutes, Mr Sex chuckles and puts his hands on your shoulders.

"Please, I beg of you. Have mercy. Stop talking," he jokes, winking at you to show he's teasing. Your knees turn into spaghetti at that wink, damn him.

You just facepalm and mutter, "Jesus, it's a good thing that they didn't hire me for the HR department. I would've had this store bankrupt in a matter of hours."

Mr Sex laughs - a real, sincere laugh, not just a pity laugh - and you feel a spark of hope. Confidence rebooting, you give him a lopsided grin and say, "My name is Y/N, by the way. If you have any questions I'll do my best to answer them, but as I have already demonstrated, I am basically the biggest slacker on the entire workforce of this shop, so, y'know. Results may vary."

Another laugh. His laugh is really cute. His voice kind of goes all high and his face scrunches up. Adorable.

"Well, Y/N, I have three questions for you, the first of which is: where's the fitting room?" Mr Sex asks, holding up a pair of jeans.

Okay. Not as exciting as previously anticipated.

You point out the fitting rooms and then turn back to him expectantly.

"Second question, then. How much do you like horrendously cheesy chat up lines?" Mr Sex went on in a seemingly random direction.

You roll with the weird question, though. "I actually happen to nurse a particular fondness for cheesy chat up lines," you inform him, trying really hard to be flirty. You hope fervently that you don't look constipated.

Mr Sex grins widely at that. "Perfect. Third question: if I use one on you - a chat up line, that is - will you go out with me?"

"Depends on how good your line is," you retort, internalising the overjoyed screaming taking place in your head.

Mr Sex leans in close, gives you a sexy smirk, and purrs, "Did you just fart? Because you blew me away."

And that's when you knew Dan Howell was the one for you.