Truthfully, it was the perfect job for Adam.
The man rarely had to talk to anyone, he could perform the simply tasks with ease, and it allowed him to catch up on his own readings of space and stars and galaxies. He enjoyed his job, and he enjoyed the predictability that came along with it. Working at such an upscale store offered a certain level of monotony, but it was soothing in it’s own sense. He saw the same customers usually at the same time, ordering the same drinks and asking about the same classic novels over and over. Perfect routine.
That is, until one Thursday morning at 9:17, just after they’d opened. A rough looking man in khakis and a shirt with wiener dogs stumbled into the dimly lit store, and immediately sighed in relief. He looked around for a few moments, and Adam simply stared at him in a small state of shock.
“It’s too fucking bright outside,” the man murmured, accent thick as he stumbled his way over to the counter, glaring at Adam from behind his sunglasses. “Black coffee. Now,” he muttered, and Adam was snapped out of his trance as he started to make the cup.
“Are you drunk?,” Adam asked him as he slid the cup across the counter, nervously chewing on his bottom lip.
The foreign man let out a laugh, wincing at the noise in his head. “Yeah, I’m still kind of fucking drunk. Mostly hungover, gorgeous,” he purred, sitting at a table in the corner that was right next to the entrance behind the coffee bar. “Is this some snooty fucking bookstore for fucking rich pricks?,” he asked, sipping at the coffee with a content sigh.
“No–Yes–,” Adam stammered out, cheeks turning pink as he tried not to focus on how attractive he found the man before him. He looked dangerous. He probably shouldn’t even speaking to him. But he had spoken to him first, wasn’t the polite thing to speak back?
“No need to get all frazzled, darling,” he smirked, reaching out a hand. “Nigel,” he said softly. “What’s your name, gorgeous?”.
“Adam,” he replied quietly, liking the way Nigel’s rough hands felt in his soft, smaller ones. “Nigel is an interesting name. Your accent is interesting,” he murmured, and that caused Nigel’s grin to widen.
“You’re not so bad yourself, sweetheart,” he murmured, sipping at his coffee once again. He found himself intrigued by the man before him, wondering what had him acting so strange. Not that Nigel minded. He was genuinely curious. “You know, I’m new to New York. I’d love for someone to show me around,” he smirked, removing his glasses to see Adam better, not caring that it caused his headache to worsen.
“I–,” Adam started, audibly gasping when Nigel removed his glasses and he felt his chest tighten. “I’ve lived here a long time. I can show you what you need to see. Well, the things that are necessary, because I have to be back at work tomorrow and the next day, and I can’t have you doing anything illegal or upsetting because I barely know you and what if you–”
“Calm the fuck down, darling,” Nigel grinned, leaning over the table until he grabbed Adam’s hand. “I’ll come back tomorrow. We can talk more then.”
And Nigel always keeps his word.