6. Coffee, Pizza, and Other Disasters
COFFEE, PIZZA, AND OTHER DISASTERS
GREG
The next morning, I wake with a grin that refuses to quit.
My chest still vibrates from last night—the pizza, the quiet, the shoulder brush.
The memory of Sean’s arm nudging mine, deliberate or not, sends a little electric pulse down my spine.
I practically floated to the subway, each step light as air, the city blurring past like I was seeing it through a lens smeared with happiness.
By the time I’d burst into my apartment, I was practically trembling with need from being so close to him.
I stripped down, hopped in the shower, and let my hands do what my mind had been begging for since the moment I left the office.
Stroking myself as I thought only about Sean—the way he laughs, the way he leans in when he talks, the sprinkling of freckles under his eyes, the way he…
God, the shoulder brush. I lost myself in the fantasy until it was almost too much, and once again, I was covered in Sean-fueled-cum.
And then, mercifully, the water hit my skin and cooled me down enough to function like a reasonable being again.
I toweled off, threw on a clean shirt and joggers, and sipped a mug of overly bitter coffee as I settled in at my home desk.
The apartment was quiet, the city stirring outside my window, and for a moment, I let myself linger in the memory of the night—of Sean—before heading to bed to dream of my mate.
By the time I’m back in the server room, logging into the Labyrinth help system the next morning, my apartment feels a million miles away. Work doesn’t care about my fantasies. The thrum of servers, the blinking lights, the inevitable questions from colleagues—all of it demands attention.
So far, so good. No system crashes. No tickets screaming for my attention. Which, of course, is the exact reason I’m suddenly desperate to see Sean. How am I supposed to interact with him if nothing’s broken?
I’m typing out a patch fix when a tap at my door makes my heart skip.
“Come in,” I call, trying to keep my voice calm.
And there he is. Sean, standing in my doorway like some kind of perfect, caffeinated angel, holding two coffees. My heart threatens to explode through my button-down.
“I wasn’t sure how you like it,” he says, a little nervous, “so I just… guessed. You can toss it if it’s terrible.”
I set the keyboard aside and gesture for him to come in. “You didn’t have to do that, but I won’t complain.” I take a sip and smile. It’s got too much cream and just a touch of sweetness. Just how I like it, although I’d drink a mug of mud from him. “Please sit.”
He lowers himself into the chair opposite my desk, holding his cup like it’s a fragile treasure.
I take a moment to really look at him—shirt and khakis, hair falling just right, that familiar curve of his stomach brushing over his belt perfectly.
The fluorescent light hits his blue eyes, and for a second, everything else disappears.
My head feels light. Just seeing him here, this close, makes my pulse spike in ways I don’t bother analyzing.
I have to fight the urge to lean forward, to comment on the little details, the way he’s…
exactly him. Every small gesture feels loaded, and I’m acutely aware of how much I’ve been longing to be close to him again.
I catch sight of the faint freckles across the bridge of his nose and cheeks, and suddenly, it feels like the stars themselves are aligned in his face. It’s another sign. My mind jumps back to last night—the way his laughter had sounded just for me, and I have to remind myself to breathe.
“You know,” I start, trying to sound casual even though my heart thunders under my shirt, “it was really nice last night… the pizza, the quiet. Just the two of us. Felt… regular, in a way.”
He smiles, warm and teasing at once. “Yeah. It was nice.”
Sean shifts slightly, leaning forward on the chair, and my stomach twists into something like knots of static electricity.
“Hey… maybe we could do it again sometime?” His voice is quiet, but there’s confidence there, too.
“You know. Without the looming doom of the system crashing or me panicking about losing the job I desperately need.”
I think I float right out of my chair. “Are… are you asking me out?”
“Maybe,” he says, faintly exasperated by how stunned I must look. “I mean… if you want to. Or in. I figured—well, I’d regret it if I didn’t ask.”
I grin so wide, I’m sure every tooth and both tusks are on full display. “I would never say no to you, Sean. Never.”
He laughs, light and relieved, and it feels like the sun just rose in my office.
I lean back, trying to keep it casual but failing spectacularly. “But, full disclosure, that shoulder brush? Dangerous. Made my entire body light up like a faulty power grid.”
He laughs—a low, throaty sound—and leans back, the confidence in his posture matching his spirited tone. “Guess I’ll have to do it again sometime, then.”
Sean rolls his chair over and, by gods, brushes his shoulder on mine.
There’s a pause, and the quiet fans of the servers fade. I can hear my own heartbeat in my ears, and I notice him glancing at my monitor, pretending to care about the lines of code scrolling past. I can tell he’s watching me just as much as I’m watching him. It’s dizzying.
Finally, I clear my throat. “Actually, I have to stay late again tonight. Monthly server maintenance.” Now, could I do this remotely?
Typically do. But the idea of spending more time with him is too tempting.
“You… you want to stay again?” I ask, trying to keep my voice light.
“Pizza’s on me this time. Unless you wanted something else. Chinese? Thai? Mexican?”
His eyes light up, and I swear I see him almost smile wider than I thought physically possible. His round cheeks look almost pink, and my stomach better stop flipping if I’m going to smash some pizza with him.
“You’re dangerously persuasive,” he teases, but the answer is clear before he even speaks. “And I think pizza might be our thing.”
Our thing. My heart pounds hard enough the pens in my shirt pocket clack together.
After most everyone’s cleared out for the night, he’s back with a tentative smile.
We talk about our days, Sean perched on the edge of the chair, the pizzas I had delivered in hand, sharing stories, laughing at small office misadventures.
The murmur of machines scores every glance, and every little nudge of conversation feels like static just waiting for a spark.
I imagine the rest of the night stretching ahead, hours with Sean here, laughing, talking, sharing small moments like this, and I have to remind myself to blink. To breathe. To act like a competent IT professional instead of a love-struck mess.
When it’s almost eight and the reboot’s finished, Sean slowly stands.
“I should probably head out,” he says, like he’s testing the words.
He drifts toward the door as if he’s about to bolt, but I can’t let that happen. Not yet. The thought of him leaving feels overwhelming.
“Wait,” I say softly, stepping forward. “Stay. I—” I gesture toward the room, unsure what to say to keep him close.
He hesitates then nods, the slightest hint of a smile. “Okay.”
I pull the door closed, the muffled noises of the nighttime custodial staff fading into nothing.
The air feels warmer, smaller, tighter. Sean leans against the wall, and I can’t stop staring.
He may be a lot smaller than me, but his presence fills the room, and every small movement—the brush of his sleeve, the tilt of his head—sends electricity up my spine.
“Better?” I ask, voice low, trying to mask the tremor in my chest.
He grins, eyes sparkling. “Much.”
Before I can think too much, he grabs my shirt, tugs me down, and presses a quick, almost punctuated kiss to my lips.
It only lasts a few seconds, but it’s enough to make my toes curl.
My pulse rockets, and I swear having his lips on mine makes my mouth tingle like I’ve just eaten a zillion Splatters at once.
Pulling back slightly, he grins again, cheeks pink. “Good thinking with the door.”
I can only nod, smiling wide, heart pounding. Tonight, nothing else matters except the quiet, the closeness, and Sean.