A Modern/Non-Carnival/Coffee Shop AU
Jim, clad in a black hoodie and jeans, winked at Will from outside the shop; it was a Friday at 8 in the morning.
Will beamed behind the counter at the sight of the tall fellow. He was wearing his uniform, a gleaming white apron, almost completely clean of blood.
What a hot tamale, smokey 'only-you-can-prevent-forest-fires' guy, Jim thought as he entered the small coffee shop.
It was local place, filled with mix-matching couches and tables. Unfortunately, the business was going bankrupt since Corporate America kills anything that's unique.
Contrary to the dire status of the establishment, Jim was greeted with warmth and the heavy scent of cookies.
He ordered his usual, a large black coffee with salt, and sat down to spend the next thirty minutes staring "subtly" at the Will, the barista. The pining was so overtly obvious that it would probably either end in marriage or a restraining order.
Jim begrudgingly got up and left. On his way to his job, beekeeping, he pondered over ways to marry and have three kids with Will that didn't involve kidnapping.
Will was almost at the end of his shift, the only thing left is spraying away the excess blood behind the restaurant. He was on his way to the back door when he spot something left on a stool, a black sweatshirt.
