something brewing: part ii
I’ve decided to write shorter chapters for this one going forward, in the hope of more frequent updates. With this in mind, this chapter is from Marcus’ point of view. There’s also part i and the original fic concept as a prelude, for anyone coming in new.
Premise: Oliver is a sports science student who has to maintain his grades in order to retain his scholarship and has a good chance of playing football professionally. Despite that, he’s serious about wanting to do well. His flatmates spend more time drunk than they do sober, so he’s given up trying to work at home and finds a little coffee shop to study in. What he doesn’t expect is to develop a painful, near-instantaneous, utterly inconvenient crush on one of the baristas.
In this chapter: Marcus discovers that weak at the knees isn’t just a figure of speech when it comes to Oliver Wood wearing his football kit.
It was the last Thursday in November, and that meant the one night of the month that Marcus didn’t particularly enjoy taking the late shift: open mic night. It wasn’t that he had any objection to people expressing themselves creatively, no, but it meant that his usual background noise of choice wasn’t available and his concentration levels for studying in between serving were below zero. It was the one night of the month that made his class the next afternoon more difficult than he wanted it to be. Though in every other respect, change and taking risks were things that he actively enjoyed, sought out even, when it came to working at the coffee shop, he liked routine. He hid his scowl behind the coffee machine and didn’t speak to anyone much, and that usually got him through it when he was obliged to work it. Susan, understanding why, left him be for the most part, and he doesn’t know what he did to deserve a co-worker and friend as understanding as her, but he was grateful nonetheless. The gratitude communicated itself in frequently tucking away her favourite pastries of choice when they were running low and making sure she had first choice when new stock came in of which blend to try.
“I guess tall, dark and handsome isn’t coming in tonight either,” Susan commented from her place at the counter, leaning on her elbows and not bothering to hide her wince at the theatre major currently making their foray into bad experimental poetry. “Did you warn him in advance or something?”