[infinite thanks, ike, for giving me a prompt that allows me to 1. scream about gothic literature 2. vent about working in a bookstore 3. write these boys being nerds]
Charles can feel Erik’s already waiting in their usual corner by the time he’s outside the coffee shop, his wheel catching on the doorframe in his haste to get through the door and out of the December cold. He sighs in frustration, pushing heavily against the glass door with one hand while trying to maneuver the wheel out of the way with the other. His fingers are numb from the winter wind which makes the whole process that much more arduous but before he can get too frustrated, the door swings open of its own accord, sticking against the coffee shop wall as if compelled by an invisible force. Charles looks up and meets Erik’s gaze, tossing him a quick smile as he backs up and manages to finally roll over the threshold and into the warm, coffee-scented air.
The door closes automatically behind him as he rolls past the couches at the front of the shop towards the small table in the back. Erik watches his progress over a copy of Northanger Abbey, silent in every way except for his mind, which as always, is a steady thrum of activity, though Charles can’t tell what about, not without peaking.
His smile brightens as he pulls up to the table and sees Erik has already ordered his regular for him – a medium Chai tea and a raspberry muffin, which are resting on his side of the table, complete with a little silverware set and napkin.
“Erik, you shouldn’t have,” Charles says gleefully.
Erik grunts. “No, I really shouldn’t. Not when you’re having me read this tripe.”
“Well, to be fair, you have me reading some other tripe,” Charles sighs. Leave it to Erik to get right into it.