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He's running late for work when he ducks into the bakery - it's sheer desperation at this point; the coffee maker at home broke a week ago and if he tries the swill Vandren calls coffee one more time Fjord's taste buds may never recover.
The Traveler's Treats is new but quickly making a name for itself, Fjord shouldn't be surprised that the line is much longer than the few other occasions he been hungry enough to dart inside, but it feels like a betrayal anyway when he steps in and there are five people already waiting in the line.
The worker manning the line is new; human, male, red-headed. A passing glance tells Fjord he is cute, but Fjord is really more concerned about watching the hands of his watch and getting out the door as soon as possible.
It takes until he's the third in line for Fjord to realize just how funny the barista is. He says all the right words at all the right times, in a thick accent Fjord is struggling to place, but his smiles are the bare minimum and there is a distant look in his eye - like he's just barely putting up with the customer's presence and could change his mind on that fact at any point in time.
It's a little arrogant. It's kind of hot.
At least until the elven woman in front of him takes a step too far back right onto Fjord's foot, twist around and snarls at him for taking up too much space. Before he can even open his mouth to defend himself, the woman has turned face-forward with a sneer and barely mumbled comments about orcs under her breathe.
Her casual racism steals the air from his lungs and while he's a grown ass adult, light years away from the tormented child he had once been, he freezes in place as the line moves once more and she steps up to place her order. Fjord strains to keep his shoulders back and straight, he is not going to try and make himself smaller for anyone - not anymore.
His cell phone case creaks in his clenched fist, one more order and he can get his coffee and leave this place and not punch the ignorant bitch standing in front of him. Grinding his teeth provides a small relief against the anger threatening to spew from his mouth.
"I'm so sorry but we are out of that," Penetrates his mind fog, just in time to hear the frustrated grumble from the woman at the register.
"That is ridiculous, what about the mocha with skim milk and a bearclaw?" This time the barista made a poor show out of looking at their stock before returning to the register.
"I'm so sorry, but we are out of that too." Fjord couldn't keep his lips from curling into a smile as their eyes meet over the irate woman's shoulder, amusement shiny in the baristas' eyes, as they both made an effort to not look towards the display case that was clearly full of the bakery's specialty bearclaws.
He loses time then, too caught up in maintaining their connection to focus on the increasing fit the other customer throws as his avenging champion curtails her ordering efforts at every point. The red-head's eyes were a gorgeous blue, a reminder of the ocean that had so often been Fjord's safe space, and sharply focused on Fjord no matter what insult or threat the other woman threw out.
He doesn't know what parting shot she throws out as she storms away, but based on the amused smirk on the barista's face it doesn't hit as intended. Instead Fjord has to focus on moving closer to the counter and trying not to flub giving his order, completely enamored in the genuine smiles Fjord is receiving now that there is no one between them.
They don't speak beyond the traditional customer/employee interaction and it isn't until Fjord is standing right outside - fifteen minutes late for work, coffee & bearclaw in hand, that he realizes that he should have said something - initiated anything to show his gratitude.
The line inside is still going strong but despite the bustle the barista's eyes meet Fjord's through the large windows covering the exterior of the bakery and he spares one precious moment to toss a wink Fjord's way.
Somehow Fjord makes it to work without running into anyone or anything, head in the clouds as he thinks of the attractive barista.
It takes a week for Fjord to talk himself in to going back to see the barista again. Fjord's done customer service before, he knows how easily customers fall into the trap of thinking politeness equals actual interest but the red-head had clearly treated him different from the others in the line - and that wink.
He's lonely enough (and horny enough if he's being honest) to risk it.
A few tugs on his shirt to rid it of imaginary wrinkles, Fjord walks in the door - a note with his phone number tucked into his pocket. He'll see the barista and if he still feels like there is chemistry then Fjord will slip him his number right before booking it out of the bakery - so the other man in no way feels obliged to respond to Fjord's advances while he's on the clock.
It's the perfect plan.
Of course, he's been so focused on imagining the interaction that he stops short when he enters the bakery only to find Cali, the normal barista, back behind the cash register.
She's clearly confused by his sudden stop, smiling tentatively from behind a curtain of her own hair, lifting her hand to lightly wave him forward. It's only the door opening behind him, another customer stepping up to his back, that gets Fjord moving once again.
His typical order spills from his lips without thought, promptly followed by the one question that has been racing around his head since he entered, "Hey, uh Cali, do you know when the other barista will be on shift again?" It makes him cringe to hear it out loud but he has to try, "The guy with the red hair and accent?"
Cali takes his cash with a confused frown, "I'm sorry, but besides the owner there is only one other barista here and I don't think either of them are who you are looking for?" Fjord isn't the best at knowing when others are lying but Cali is an open book and he knows the moment she says it that she is being honest.
Somehow he manages a soft, "Ah, my mistake." Somehow he gets his order and makes it to work.
Somehow he manages to keep going even though it feels like he was robbed. Of what Fjord isn't certain, but he feels betrayed by his heart when he rips the paper with his number into pieces and tosses them into a nearby dumpster.
The next weekend he's stumbling down the street with Beau, both of them supporting the other as they weave their way down the street - having done his best friend duty of keeping her company drink for drink while she ranted off her anger about the latest letter from her family.
Fjord knows the last couple of shots were horrible ideas, he can feel it in the way the ground keeps swaying beneath his feet, but he has all weekend to sleep off the hangover and Beau was there for him when Sabian tried to get Fjord fired last year.
It becomes a problem though when his eyes pass over the windows of a random tattoo parlor and HE's there behind the counter.
He's not in a uniform this time, hair loose around his face, and light scruff covering his jaw, but when a purple tiefling steps from the back he looks up from his book and for one moment Fjord swears those blue eyes meet his own.
Beau choosing that moment to lean over and vomit is the only reason Fjord doesn't lurch towards the door and then his mind is too filled with taking care of Beau to remember the red-haired man.
By the time he's sober Fjord is convinced that it was just wishful thinking and his mind playing tricks on himself.
He's completely sober the next time he sees him, but in no better situation to approach him.
Vandren's shipping company has grown in leaps and bounds - luckily enough with Fjord's role growing as well, but with a couple men out sick and a tight deadline in place for a picky client has Fjord rushing to get one of the trucks to the docks before their next ship takes off. Any delay will miss the ship and if that happens Fjord knows he can kiss the account goodbye.
Knowing all this still doesn't help ease the ache he feels when he stops at a red light and sees his mysterious barista loading buckets of flowers into a display rack outside of a florist shop.
His face is tinged pink from the sun and his hair pulled up into a bun displaying a long neck that Fjord wants to shove his nose into and just breath in. It's a strange feeling and maybe even stranger to feel it for someone he's barely spent any time with, but Fjord is still reluctant to put his foot on the gas pedal as the light changes to green and a horn sounds out behind him.
He doesn't want to miss his chance this time and goes to The Blooming Grove the very next day, but instead of a skinny human he finds a lean, pink firbolg manning the store. Fjord only fumbles for a second before asking if the young man who helped him yesterday was around today - he'd like to thank him again for help with a bouquet.
He's a good lier but it feels like the firbolg has seen right through him as he calmly explains that with most of the family busy with a wedding they'd had temporary help for just the one day.
Zadash is a big city - it has to mean something that he keeps running into this guy . . . Right?
It means that the universe just wants to fuck with him, that's what it means.
Fjord has caught the plague - well, not actually the plague, but it might as well be given how he feels.
His eyes are red and swollen, nose constantly leaking yellow snot, and his skin has lightened with his illness to a color he likes to consider vomited up peas. There's a cough deep in his chest and every step hurts, so he's feeling thankful the little shop right near his apartment is a small family-run pharmacy.
He'll grab what he needs, shuffle home, and then barricade himself in his bedroom until he feels less like a walking germ.
Initially the plan goes off without a hitch, it hurts but he makes his way aisle through aisle, grabbing whatever he sees might offer relief from his symptoms. It's when he turns to the aisle with cough suppressants that it all goes wrong.
Because stocking shelves on that aisle is the cute red-head he has been crushing on for weeks.
Fjord immediately backs out of the aisle before he can be seen, sets his basket out of the way of main traffic, and leaves the store.
He's not dealing with this bullshit right now and if he whines enough Beau might bring him some medicine.
Maybe he should have just gone ahead and approached him while he was on death's door? Because it's been weeks and there is no sign of the man. Which is fine, they only had one interaction - it shouldn't be affecting Fjord this much, but . . . He had liked how the possibility had felt. Liked the thought of forging a connection with another person even if it didn't work out like Fjord was hoping.
He's passed The Traveler's Treats multiple times a week, but hasn't been able to make himself go back in - even on days when a blue tiefling with a chief's hat takes over Cali's place. (None of the other locations are anywhere near his typical routes and he fights with himself to not visit them.)
When it finally happens it is a beautiful day, the sun is shining and Fjord is begrudgingly walking his grumpy ass to meet up with Orly for lunch. He knows that he's been in a mood lately, frustration with work, with his crush making him tense and liable to snap - Orly's retired, so a call out of the blue for lunch means the guys have decided enough is enough.
Fjord would just tell them to fuck off, but well, their crew and honestly who else is going to watch his back.
Fate smiles down on him when he turns the corner of The Pillow Trove Hotel & Spa, planning to cut through the small park that had been installed to up the tourist value of the place, and there he is.
The barista/florist/store clerk is right there, seated on a park bench at the playground, hair pulled back once again not in an uniform.
For once he's not doing anything that could be considered working - instead he's just people watching, looking for all the world like he's just enjoying the beautiful scenery.
To the casual observer it may have looked like Fjord took of running, but every time he tells the story he stresses that he was just briskly walking across the street, through that one birthday party, and over the hedge. (Later Caleb will pantomime exaggerated panting every time Fjord tries to make this claim.)
"Hey," It feels lame the moment he says it; his mouth is suddenly dry and Fjord has never been more aware of sweat gathering in his arm pits, but he's still trying to catch his breath and he is absolutely not willing to miss this opportunity.
The human looks up at Fjord, eyes wary as he takes in the mess standing before him, "Hello?"
"Hi, um. . ." It's harder now being his sole focus when Fjord has spent so much of his time chasing after the human. Rubbing a hand along the back of his hand nervously he starts again, "I don't know if you remember me from The Travele-"
"Oh, ja!" The suspicion is gone from the other's eyes as his body posture starts relaxing, "With that horrible woman."
"That's right," Fjord has to clear his throat to keep the soft smile off his face, "I wanted to thank you for that Mr . . .” He trials off leaving an opening for the other man’s name, pouring every ounce of charm into his unspoken request.
The human’s answering smile was shy, real unlike the ones he had been wearing behind the bakery counter, and sent a shot of warmth straight to Fjord's heart, "Caleb, my name is Caleb."
“Well, Caleb,” Fjord leaned against the back of the bench, careful to not loam over the smaller man, “You did a mighty fine thing for me and I was hoping I could take you out for coffee sometime to thank you?” He couldn’t be positive but he swore he could see an answering spark of interest in Caleb’s eyes as the red-head leaned in towards Fjord to answe-
"Kiri! No!" Caleb turns sharply from Fjord to point a finger at a small Kenku standing at the top of the nearby playground equipment. The little bird child considers Caleb's finger for a moment before squawking and backing away from the edge to join a line for the slide. "Sorry, ah - I am babysitting right now, but maybe we could have coffee later?"
It's not a no. It's not a no and Caleb is smiling softly at him and Fjord's going to get his chance. He has a name now and a chance.
He means to suggest exchanging numbers and making plans for the next day, but what comes out of his mouth is, "How about an ice cream date right now then? I'll buy a round for us all."
The soft smile that Fjord was so enamored with becomes a grin as Caleb agrees, eyelashes softly fluttering as the red-head shyly agrees that ice cream sounds like a great idea.
Fjord learns that Caleb is a writer with a pretty relaxed schedule and friends who know that he is available for any emergency - such has lending a hand at work when they are down a person or moments like now when it's overseeing Kenku/Halfing play-dates. He learns about his cat, Frumpkin, the friends that Caleb considered his family, and finally, at the end of the night, Fjord learns how warm and soft Caleb feels in his arms when they kiss.
But those are all things he learns later - First he spends an afternoon watching Caleb toss Luc in the air only to catch him again and again, just how much ice cream can spread when both adults are too distracted with making eyes at each other to catch the cone that tumbles Fjord's font, and that Kiri will decide she likes him only after two attempts to stab Fjord with a stick.