Chapter Text
So this story was inspired by this tweet.
Had to change the music, but the rest was too good to not write about.
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David unlocked the front door and flipped the sign to "Open." He moved to the front counter and pressed "Play" on his phone, the soft soundscapes filling the air. He paused in the peaceful quiet.
"Mornin', Davey!" Roland bellowed as he barged through the door, overhead bell ringing like Notre Dame. David sighed. It never failed that the mayor, or his wife, or the mayor and his wife, would come in nearly every morning, minutes after opening. Why two people of a certain age needed that much lube was beyond him.
"Hi, Roland," he muttered in reply. "No new flavors since you were here on Tuesday."
"Oh, that's fine! Don't worry about me! Besides, I'm here to pick up a little birthday gift for the Misses." He sauntered over and leaned across the counter, causing David to lean away. "Or not so little, if you know what I mean." He slapped the table and laughed out loud.
"So what is it I can help you with?"
"Do you stock those 'Clone-A-Willy' things?" He asked. "You know, where you make a replica of your--"
"Yes, yes." Please God stop talking. "Body casting kits are on the far wall over there by the DIY vibrator supplies."
After ringing up his purchases, upselling a new massage oil, and wrapping everything in an opaque black bag, he sent Roland on his way. It's not that David minded running the only adult store in Elm County-- the exact opposite, actually. He loved providing an open, accepting, sex-positive experience for people to visit and learn about themselves, their partners, their preferences. He had a colorful past with a lot of different partners and situations, and felt that all of his knowledge and expertise was going to a good cause. And obviously it was a much needed niche market, as he'd exceeded his projected profits every quarter since he opened last year. The only downside, if there even was one, was getting an intimate look into the sex lives of the residents of his small town.
The morning moved by quickly with a slow, steady stream of customers. A shipment of organic unisex pheromone cologne came in around lunch time, and after closing the store for an hour break, David started to unload the box onto one of the front tables. A couple came in, late twenties, he'd guess, and casually wandered around the store. The shorter of the two men, dark skin under a tight polo and short-cropped black hair, looked curious and determined, whereas the taller one, pale with strong shoulders covered by a button-up tucked into basic jeans, looked uncomfortable and completely out of his element. Interesting. He was about to offer his assistance when the shorter man spoke.
"Oh, over here, Bunny Bear!" He pointed towards the table of artfully displayed anal toys. He grabbed his partner's hand and dragged him over. David turned back to his work, keeping an ear out for any sounds that they may need help. Enya started to vocalize over the sound system.
"I don't think I'd like that," came a deeper voice.
"Of course you will!" Exclaimed the first man. "Everyone loves it."
"Well I don't know if I really want to try it right now."
"Are you serious, Bunny Bear?"
"If you want to buy it for yourself, go for it," the second man told him sternly. "But I don't want it."
"I can't believe you're acting like this!"
"Acting like what? All I said is that I don't want to use that. "
"You're acting like a prude! You come to me, a sheltered little baby gay, and I'm trying to help you learn about stuff!"
"Then you should let me learn, Ken. Instead of insisting I shove everything I see up my ass!"
David snorted. Shit. He glanced over to see both men looking at him. The taller, handsome man looked mortified, while shorter man, Ken, was glaring at him through his thick-framed glasses.
"You know what?" Ken shouted, breaking the tension. "I'm done. You just stay a scared little virgin. I'm going to find someone who wants to be with me."
"Ken--" the man started, but Ken held up his hand and stormed out of the store, letting the door slam behind him.
There was a long, awkward pause. David looked over and saw the man wipe his eye and turn to face away from him. He walked over, feeling drawn to protect someone who was clearly being mistreated.
"Um, so I couldn't help but overhear some things," he said quietly, "but let me just say: fuck that guy."
The man smiled and looked down at his shoes. "Didn't you hear? I didn't. That's the problem."
"No, that's his problem," David snapped. "No one is entitled to anyone else’s body. Ever." He kept his eyes on the man until he looked up, so he would see that he was serious.
"Oh, uh, yeah. Thanks." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I guess he isn't a very good boyfriend. Well, wasn't. I guess that's over."
"Good riddance. I've had more than my fair share of shitty partners, so I pretty much know them when I see them."
"Well, I should get going," he mumbled. "Uh, thanks. For being nice."
"Not often that I get called nice," David scoffed. "But wait, I can't in good conscience let you just walk out of here empty handed after a public breakup." The guy gave him an awkward look. "I'll give you the Lover's Quarrel discount."
"I wouldn't even know what…" he gestured to the whole of the store.
"Okay, we'll figure it out. But first, hi. I'm David Rose." He stuck out his hand.
"Hi, David," he reached out and grabbed on, his hand strong. "I'm Patrick Brewer."