Chapter Text
It was a gorgeous summer morning, and you were cleaning tables at the cat cafe that you worked at. A pair of women were sitting in the corner, with one of them lifting her shirt sleeve to show off a tattoo. You noticed that it was an amazing design, a tiger lily that melted into a butterfly.
“That is so beautiful. Did you come up with it?”
“No, I just heard that if you talk to him for a while, he’ll come up with something for you, and it’s always this soul deep, beautiful thing that represents you perfectly.”
“Really? You just… talked?”
“Yeah, he sits you down, gets you some water, and just asks you how your day’s been, how you’re doing, and, I don’t know, I just ended up talking about my hopes and dreams. All the while he’s drawing in some little sketchbook. Twenty minutes later, he shows me this design and asks if it’s good, and I immediately said yes, draw it on me!”
“What, no way. No way anyone is that good.”
“His Instagram account says otherwise.”
You didn’t hear either of them speak for a while as one of them messed with her phone before handing it to the other. Then there were some gasps.
“Holy fuck. Holy FUCK.”
“I know, right? And here’s the kicker: he doesn’t even handle his Instagram account, he says his friend does all that social media stuff for him.”
“Well, whoever it is does a fucking good job at marketing him.”
“Right? Anyway, enough about me. How are you doing?”
The conversation carried on as you moved away from them, taking all the dishes and cups back into the kitchen.
Glancing at Charles, your boss and owner of the cafe, you noticed the smile on his face; it wasn’t a normal smile, more like the smile of someone laughing at an inside joke.
“What's up?” you asked as you walked by.
“I’ll tell you later,” he said.
***
Later that day, you reminded him.
“So what were you going to tell me?”
Charles scrunched his lips together as he tried to remember. “Oh, the two women talking about that tattoo artist? That’s Arthur.”
“Your friend who just joined the studio across the street?”
“Yup. Javier finally convinced him to leave his old studio after putting some hard numbers in front of him. Arthur’s so loyal, it took Javier writing out how much gas and time he was using to commute, and how little he was getting as an apprentice when he could be charging more as a solo artist.”
You had heard bits and pieces about Arthur from Charles and Javier, who was Charles’ business partner for the cafe, and did marketing for him. Javier was a charismatic man, who had actually suggested Charles hire a helper so he could focus on managing the cat lounge part of the cafe, which is why you were brought on board. So in a way, you were grateful to him, as you loved the laid back atmosphere of this job.
And during the slow times, you could play with the cats.
***
You first met Arthur at the crack of dawn on a slow morning.
"Hi, welcome to Crafty Cats!" You greeted the grumpy looking man with one of your gentle smiles; you were naturally quiet and easy-going when in the cafe, and fortunately that matched the general vibe of the lounge. Charles wanted it to be a place where people could relax and maybe consider adopting a cat, which was the other half of the business that he focused on. Your job was to make the cafe a place where people felt welcome, like they were coming back to an old friend.
You observed the man as he walked up to the counter. He was easy on the eyes, but a bit intimidating, a big guy with big arms. His left bicep had a tattoo that went up his arm under the sleeve of his shirt; you couldn't see the rest of it, but it looked like some kind of animal, maybe a deer. His dark blue muscle shirt showed off his body rather magnificently, and his black jeans wrapped his hips lovingly. Good lord, if you didn't have a big man kink, you sure as hell had one now.
"G'mornin'. Is Charles around?"
Oh, his voice was deep, just the way you liked it, with a mix between a Texan and a southern twang to it. You pointed towards the cat lounge. Through the large window in the wall that separated the coffee bar and the cat lounge, you could see Charles in there brushing one of the cats.
"I'll let you in," you said, walking out from around the counter. The man followed silently as you opened the door carefully and went inside. Immediately Natasha, a calico, started hissing at you. You rolled your eyes and ignored her; this was normal.
"Hey, someone's here to see you?" You asked quietly.
Charles looked up and smiled. "Hey Arthur. Have a seat, you can help me brush Natasha."
You winced. She only liked Charles. Whenever anyone else tried to pet her, she'd at best walk away. At worst, she'd hiss and bat at whoever came near.
So you watched in utter disbelief as Arthur held his hand out and she immediately went up to him and nudged his hand, then plopped into his lap and started purring.
"What…"
Charles laughed at your reaction. "Arthur has a way with animals."
Then you heard Arthur croon softly to the cat, and your face heated up; you were suddenly wishing he was saying those things to you in that gravelly voice.
"Good kitty, yer just a little sweetheart, ain'tcha?" he murmured as he took the brush that Charles wordlessly handed him and gently brushed Natasha. She just purred and blinked her eyes slowly.
Charles got up and gestured for you to follow him. "I'll get you a coffee," he said over his shoulder to Arthur as he exited the lounge area with you.
As soon as the door was shut, Charles looked at you knowingly.
"He's single."
"I didn't ask!"
Charles just smirked at you. "I could tell you wanted to know." He poured a cup of black coffee and handed it to you. "Bring this to him, please."
You just shook your head. Your boss, playing matchmaker. Funny guy. But far too observant.
***
It's been a couple months since then. Almost every morning, Arthur comes in for a coffee and plays with the cats, then goes to his studio. Sometimes he stops by after work to just chill with the cats, and Charles lets him. You wondered about the nepotism of it all, since the cat lounge had an admission price, but you didn’t bring it up.
Turns out, you didn’t need to.
On a busy morning, Arthur, who was waiting in line for his coffee because he didn’t want to be that guy , asked you once he reached the counter, “Don’tchu charge people for hangin’ out in there?”
You nodded as you poured his coffee. “Yeah, $12 an hour.”
Arthur’s eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t say anything else as he accepted the coffee from you.
“But Charles said it’s okay for you,” you quickly added. “He said you’re not allowed to have pets at your place.”
“Charles and his big mouth,” he grumbled, but a soft smile played on his lips as he spoke.
You loved his small smiles, his irreverent humor, his grumpy cheer.
He gave you a twenty.
"What's this for?" you asked, blinking stupidly.
"For the time in there," he replied, pointing a thumb at the cat lounge.
"I said-"
"Tell Charles he can shove his charity." And he walked into the cat lounge, sat down, and was immediately surrounded by three cats.
You smiled at the scene; a big man, rough around the edges, speaking gently to some cats.
And then two women sat next to him and started chatting with him.
You bristled, but you couldn't do anything about it. After all, who the hell were you, when you hadn't scrounged up the courage to talk to him beyond the usual small talk?
***
The twilight right before dawn was your favourite time, because no one would be out in the downtown square near the clock tower at this hour. You put your bag down and pulled out your phone and a small Bluetooth speaker. Switching to your dance playlist, a mix of dubstep, hip hop, and house music, you connected your phone to the speaker and hit play.
As the music flowed through you, you let your body take over, pushing your active mind back as you popped and locked with the beat, undulating your body like it was liquid.
This was your secret passion: street dance. You could do it with a group in public, but on your own? You'd rather dance where few people could see, but your studio apartment was cramped, and the park had too many dog walkers, even at this hour. So when you could, you came here, with your little speaker, and danced your heart out. You shook out the stress of the day to day, and let yourself just be in the moment, feel the rhythm of the song, the beat of life as it thrummed through you.
Today, you were dancing out your frustration of being too meek to approach Arthur, too shy to talk more with him. Definitely too scared to ask him out on a date. You couldn't help but be quiet and polite; it was how you were raised. But inside, you were a storm of passion and emotion, always letting out everything in the form of dance. Your dance today was aggressive, fiery, raw.
Years ago, a friend had suggested you get out your stress through physical exercise, and had dragged you to one of his street dance classes. And you had fallen in love with the feeling of letting the music take over. Now you dance any chance you get, if you could get yourself out of bed early enough.
Your playlist ended as the sun lit up the plaza, and you went to grab your speaker when you heard a familiar voice behind you.
"Didn't know you could dance like that," Arthur said as he came up behind you.
You jumped. "How long have you been watching?"
"Oh…" He checked his watch. "Since 'bout half an hour ago."
That was the length of your playlist. He had been watching the whole time?
"Sorry, didn't mean to gawk, I just…" Arthur trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck and looking nervously away.
"It's fine," you said quickly to assuage his embarrassment. "I'm dancing in a public square, it's not a big deal."
He nodded his head, opened his mouth, then closed it again.
You waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts.
"You, uh, you dance good,” he finally said. Immediately sighing, he spoke again. “I mean, it was fun to watch. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
Your face heated up.
Looking at your wide-eyed reaction and realizing what he said and how it sounded, Arthur cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well, guess I better get goin’.”
Your heart raced as you watched him start to walk to work. It was now or never. You gathered your courage, while the energy of the dance still beat in your blood. “Hey, would you like to get dinner with me tonight?”
He stopped mid-stride. Turning around, the confused look in his eyes made your heart plummet.
“Are… you askin’ me out on a date?” His tone was that of disbelief.
“Um, I mean, if you don’t want to, that’s fine, I just...” You trailed off when you saw the confusion melt away, replaced with a genuine smile.
“I’d love to have dinner with you.” Arthur beamed at you, and it felt like you got a direct hit from the sun.