Work Text:
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You have a problem. Ever since he started coming to the café, he’s been your mid-shift daydream material of choice. Sometimes the daydreams are sweet: He slips his phone number into the tip jar. Sometimes they’re romantic: He rushes in and confesses his love to you. Sometimes they’re dirty: He bends you over the counter and fucks you until you scream.
It’s not ideal to have a crush on a customer, but he’s the one who made a habit of showing up during the weird, desolate hours between when the shop should close and when it actually does, and when you’re the only person here. You used to tell the owner it was ridiculous to stay open until 10:00 when you rarely see any business after 8:30, but you’ve stopped bringing it up. Because sometimes, Dennis Whitaker wants a decaf maple latte.
He’s pretty reserved, but you’ve managed to learn a few things about him over the months, thanks to the rare occasions where he felt talkative. #1: He is in medical school and works at the hospital nearby. #2: He recently changed shifts, meaning you see him even less often now. #3: He is from Nebraska. #4: He loves funk music (you let him pick the playlist one shift — fun discovery). #5: He just moved in with a coworker. #6: He is your favorite customer.
As you flip through this Rolodex of facts to counteract your boredom, the brass bell hanging from the door jingles, and a familiar face enters the shop. For a moment, you wonder if you conjured him out of sheer will. Your body moves automatically, and you start making his regular order.
“Long time, no see,” you say as he approaches the counter.
“Hey,” he smiles warmly. “Sorry it’s been a minute. Things have been busy.”
You smile back. “No problem at all.” You run his card while the espresso machine runs. “How’s the new gig, Doctor?”
“Still a student doctor,” he corrects. “It’s…alright. It’s good. I love the getting-to-help-people part, but…” He pauses for a moment. “I don’t know. It can be a lot.”
He’s usually in varying stages of exhaustion when you see him, but his eyes hold a kind of new kind of tiredness now.
“I can only imagine. You said you’re in the ER now, right?”
“Yeah.” He doesn’t offer anything more than that, so you finish making his latte in the comfortable silence.
“You okay?” Your voice softens as you hand him the drink. “Or, assuming you’re not, is there anything I can do?”
“Not really, and not really,” he tries to say lightheartedly, but it comes out sadder and truer than you think he meant it to. He clears his throat and uncharacteristically meets your eyes. “That’s why I came here, actually. I, uh, needed a pick-me-up.” He hands you a 5-dollar bill.
The register drawer opens with a harsh clunk. “One pick-me-up for Pittsburgh’s finest student doctor,” you quip as you hand him his change.
“Oh, I—” he starts, but he lets go of whatever sentence he had planned. Instead, he tips his cup towards you in a mock-toast. “To Pittsburgh’s finest barista.”
You smile, and a beat of silence passes.
“Do you want any of these?” You gesture to the sparse pastry display. “They’re only slightly stale, I promise.”
He laughs. “Sure, I’ll have a raspberry.”
Since you close in half an hour and you haven’t had a customer for the last three, you join him at one of the tables with a totally-not-stale pastry of your own.
“I feel bad,” he admits. “You always ask about me, and I realized earlier that I don’t actually know much about you.”
Interesting. “Oh, you were thinking about me?”
He shifts in his seat. “I guess so,” he says quietly. “I mean, yes. I was. One of our patients today got hurt while she was at work, at a Starbucks nearby. When someone told me that a barista was admitted, I got…worried.”
Your hand moves involuntarily to your heart. “Worried it was me?“ You say, moved. “Dennis, that’s—”
“Sorry, that’s probably weird,” he cuts you off. “I just figured because of how close this place is to the hospital, and—”
You reach out and squeeze his hand. “No, not weird at all. That’s very sweet.”
#7: He would care if you died.
He looks away, suddenly very fascinated with his half-eaten danish, and eventually removes his hand from yours. “Anyway, um, I’ve been wanting to get to know you more anyway, and it made me realize I didn’t want to wait. So that’s really why I came here.”
A laugh jumps out of you. “I’m flattered you assume I’m interesting enough for that, but I’m really not.”
He looks at you quizzically. “I doubt that. You’re interesting to me,” he says. “You interest me.”
“Oh?” You raise your eyebrow, amused and impressed, and a little turned on. His cheeks visibly flush, and he looks away.
“I mean, yeah.” He clears his throat. “So, um, I know you’re in grad school, but what are you studying?”
You lean back in your chair, letting him out of this one. “I’m working on a PhD, researching environmentalism and urban planning. Essentially, I want to figure out the best methods to build or expand cities with minimal impact to their ecosystems.”
“Wow, so you’re going to save the planet?” He says jokingly, but not mockingly. “Seriously, that’s really cool.”
You roll your eyes, but you can’t help smiling. “It really is fascinating. Not quite as cool as saving lives, though.”
He immediately throws the ball back in your court. “No, it is.”
You’re honestly not sure what to say, so you just say, “Thank you,” while grabbing his empty plate and standing up to start closing. He starts to get up, too. “Oh, you don’t have to leave.”
He checks his watch. “I probably should. Trinity, the coworker I told you about, wants to go out tonight. Neither of us work tomorrow, and she said something about the planets being aligned in our favor and how it means we need to get plastered.”
You laugh. “Well, I know better than to interfere with the planets. I’ll see you around, Dennis.”
He stands for a moment longer than what feels natural, and then he turns wordlessly and leaves. The same bell jingles on his way out, and it feels quieter than it did before he had walked in.
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“Jess, you know how I feel about bars we can’t walk to,” you plead with your friend as the two of you try to decide where to go. Your favorite bar closed recently, and you’ve been trying to find your new go-to spot. You tried a relatively new bar called “One Man’s Trash” last week, which was awful. In hindsight, the name should have been a clue.
“I know, but I’ve heard good things about this place! Can we pause the search tonight and just go out? They have karaoke,” she adds, knowing it would entice you.
“That’s not fair,” you pout, but you’re already pulling up the Uber app. You punch Lovehound into the search bar and sigh as you book the surge-priced ride. “First round is on you,” you grumble.
When you get to the bar, you do have to hand it to Jess. This is a pretty cool place. It’s just dive-y enough without feeling grimy, and the room is dim but colorful. You find a small booth, and she fishes her wallet out of her purse before dropping it onto the table. As she walks away, you continue to scan the room.
There’s a good amount of people here without it feeling crowded, and the bartenders seem friendly. The sound of someone beautifully butchering Before He Cheats by Carrie Underwood drifts in from what must be the karaoke room off to the side. You settle into people watching like this until Jess returns with your drinks.
“Madam,” Jess says as she hands one of the glasses to you and takes a seat — you’re starting with lemon drop cocktails. “So, how was work?”
You shrug. “Work was work. You’d think we’d be busier in the evenings, but it’s always dead after, like, 5 o’clock. Dennis came by today, though.”
If Jess is annoyed at you bringing him up again, she very kindly doesn’t show it. “Uh-huh. Your med student crushstomer?”
“The one and only,” you sigh. “He has weirder hours now, so he hasn’t been coming in as much. Maybe I can talk his boss into give him half days,” you add with a laugh.
The opening chords to Play That Funky Music float in from the other room, and Jess looks at you with wide eyes. “Holy shit, I forgot about the karaoke!”
You laugh. “Jess, that was your whole selling point!”
“Come on,” she says as she stands and grabs your hand. “Chug the rest. Another round, and we’re doing Shallow.” You grab your things and head to the bar. You opt for a vodka soda this time, and Jess gets a gin and tonic.
Once you have round two in your hands, the two of you head to the karaoke section. As you round the corner, you can hear the crowd egging on the singer. Jess tosses her free hand into the air, but you stop dead in your tracks as your brain processes three pieces of information:
- Dennis Whitaker is singing onstage.
- An entire room of drunk karaoke patrons are singing back at him to play that funky music, white boy.
- He is way into it.
Jess, oblivious to the gears turning inside your head, takes your hand again and pulls you to an empty table. “You’re not chickening out on me again,” she says as you sit down.
You pick your jaw off the floor. “You’re fucking joking.”
“Excuse me?”
“No– Jess. That's Dennis.”
She spins around so quickly that you briefly worry about whiplash. At least there’s a doctor in the room, you think to yourself.
“No way. You’re joking.”
The reality and absurdity of the situation finally catches up to you, and you start giggling. “I am being so serious. Holy shit. He told me he was going out tonight, but he didn’t say where,” you say between breaths.
She starts laughing, too. “God, then you are SO welcome for the suggestion.”
A woman with short dark hair sitting two tables over turns to the two of you. “It’s fucking rude to laugh, by the way,” she says defensively. Oh shit, is this Trinity?
“Oh my god, no, sorry—” You and Jess stumble over each other’s words as the song comes to an end. You scoot over so Maybe-Trinity can hear you better. “I sort of know him,” you finally get out, “but did not know he had that in him.”
“You know Whitaker?” She asks. Dennis gets closer, and she turns to him. “Huckleberry, do you know her?”
#8: His nickname is Huckleberry. You really hope you remember to ask follow-up questions later.
“Holy shit,” he says as he can finally see you in the dim light. “What are you doing here?” He quickly course-corrects, but is already flustered. “Sorry, I meant— I thought I didn’t say where we were going out? I was going to, but then—”
You cut him off. “No, total coincidence. One might even say the planets aligned.”
Maybe-Trinity turns to look at you, then him, and raises her eyebrow at him. “You gonna sit down, Dr. Love?”
You decide you like her.
Dennis blinks, realizing he’s still standing. His cheeks flush a moment later, as if he didn’t process what she said until then.
“Sure, yeah.”
You motion for Jess to come over, too. Dennis introduces the woman as Trinity Santos, his friend, coworker, and roommate. You introduce yourself to her, and then Jess to them both. This all happens while someone is bravely attempting to sing Beautiful Things by Benson Boone.
“Do you want to see if that booth is still open?” Jess says to you, and you all get up to relocate.
Sitting back down, your duos end up split. Dennis is next to you, Trinity is across from you, and Jess is on your diagonal. You choose to blame the warmth in your face on the two drinks that have settled into your system, instead of the fact that Dennis’s thigh and upper arm are pressed against your own.
Sensing the energy, Jess asks, “Does anyone want anything else from the bar?”
“Maybe just water?” You ask at the same time that Dennis says, “I’m okay, but thank you.”
Trinity looks back and forth between both of you again. “You know what, I’ll go with you,” she says, standing back up. “In case you need help…carrying anything.” They both leave.
Now that it’s just the two of you, Dennis feels tenser, probably acutely aware of the physical contact but unsure if you’re okay with it. So you ease into it, nudging him a bit.
“Play That Funky Music?” You ask, unable to hold back your amusement.
He groans and buries his face in his hands, but you can hear his smile. “I cannot believe you saw that.”
You laugh. “Hey, you’re the one who said you wanted us to get to know each other better. I’m just doing my part.”
He fake-shyly peeks out from his hands, and then sits upright. “Did you hear Trinity’s Carrie Underwood, too?”
“Oh my god, that was her? Yes. And it was everything. THAT is what karaoke is supposed to be.” You shift your weight and turn slightly to actually face him. “She seems great,” you add.
“She is,” he says, nodding. “People give her shit for being mean, but she really isn’t. They just don’t see it. Like, she invited me to move in with her the same day she met me, just because she found out I needed a place. Who does that?”
“Wow.” You look over to the bar and see that Trinity and Jess are talking. Normally you would get jealous hearing someone you're interested in talk about another person like that, but Trinity’s body language as she talks to Jess tells you that you have nothing to worry about.
After a few minutes, your phone buzzes in your purse, and you know it’s Jess without having to look. “Y’know what, I’m going to run to the restroom,” you say. “Be right back.”
So far, she’s just texted you “dude”, but the rest start pouring in as soon as the door swings closed behind you.
Jess: dude
Jess: u and that nerd are feeling the FUCKKK out of each other
Jess: got the tea from trinity
Jess: the triniTEA if u will
You: omg?? 🎤
Jess: mf is SMITTEN. his coworkers all know and tease him about it
You: WTF
You: no way LOL
Jess sends a picture of Trinity’s phone, which has a photo pulled up of a white board with a grid of sticky notes.
You: LMFAO
You: this is crazy
You: wait she put 20 on me NOT BEING REAL?
Jess: she literally thought he was lying HAHAHA
Jess: okie hang on we’re about to go back
Jess: game plan is I spend the night with the lovely company of trinity at their place
Jess: and u and dennis get ur freaks on at ours
You: omfg ok that works
You: and BITCH I knew I saw you flirting!!
Jess: 😇
Jess: ok COME BACK or it’ll get awk. we’ll leave in like 5
You walk back to the table and see Trinity and Jess physically unable to keep their hands off of each other. You assume they’re playing it up to make a show of leaving, but you can tell they really do want to get to Trinity’s place as soon as possible.
“Okay well, Jess really wants to see that really cool art I have in our apartment, so we’re going now,” Trinity says to you both. “Whitaker, make sure she gets home safe or I’ll disown you,” she adds.
With this, the two of them turn and run briskly walk out the door. “Have fun!” You call out after them.
“So,” Dennis says.
“So,” you repeat. You stare at each other for a moment, both daring the other to be the one to say it. You decide he’s too much of a gentleman to invite himself over. “My place?”
. ܁₊ ⊹ . ܁ ⟡ ܁ . ⊹ ₊ ܁.
The 12-minute Uber ride feels like an hour. Your driver, Peter, has the radio set to a 90s station. His car smells like patchouli. He has mints and mini water bottles. You are noticing all these things to prevent yourself from jumping Dennis’s bones in the backseat. You have a feeling that wouldn’t go over well with Peter.
When you get to your apartment door, Dennis puts his hand on your lower back as you fumble with the multiple locks, and you can feel the heat through your layers of clothes. Your skin melts off your body.
You finally get the door open. Before you even set your bag down, you pull his body into yours and kiss him. He gently presses you against the wall and cradles your face, and your hands fall to his sides. His hands are warm, strong, and steady. You could spend hours doing just this.
“You should take your coat off,” you murmur.
“You should take your coat off,” he echoes, but he doesn’t give you a chance to. Without breaking your kiss, he undoes each button and lets the wool blend fall to the floor. You feel naked despite still being fully clothed. His hands return to your face, and he traces small circles on your jawline with his thumbs as his mouth moves against yours, making your head spin.
You start to undo the buttons on his coat in return, but he hastily removes it himself and drops it on the floor to join yours in a pile of fabric. “Tour later,” you say as you grab his hand and lead him to your bedroom.
Once inside, you sit on the bed, but he stops to look around. You don’t blame him; you’d be doing the same if you were in his room. He looks at the posters on your walls, the books on your shelf, and the mess of papers on the desk. You silently wonder if any of it is met with judgment.
“Wow,” he says to nothing in particular.
“Good wow or bad wow?”
He strides over and places a soft kiss on your lips. “Good wow. It’s exactly what I pictured.”
“Oh, so you pictured this?” You ask, kissing him back. His lips taste like light beer and a hint of something sweet.
He nods. “Mhm.”
You pull away suddenly. “I heard something about a betting board at work,” you say, grabbing the lower hem of his shirt and beginning to lift it above his head. “Did anyone bet on this?”
You toss his shirt to the side. His eyes are wild when you find them again. “I did.”
Without warning, he pushes you down onto the bed, unbuttons your pants, and pulls them off your legs — seemingly all in one motion. He presses his thumb to the wet spot already accumulating on your underwear, and you groan.
“You like that?” He smiles wickedly, and all you can do is whimper as he presses against it harder and moves his thumb in a circular motion. If you were wet before, you’re soaked now.
You shimmy out of your top, and he momentarily stops his circles to appreciate your body. He places gentle kisses on your stomach, your chest, and your neck. Reaching behind your back, he undoes the clasp of your bra with ease. Where the fuck did this Dennis come from?
You must have voiced your surprise out loud, because he answers. “Oh, I’ve thought about this a lot.”
“Me, too,” you pant.
“Look at me,” he says, and you comply.
Every time you had daydreamed about Dennis Whitaker, the sweetness in his face had been an unchangeable feature. As you take in his expression now, you realize you had been wrong. You see nothing but desire in his eyes, and his lips twist into a wry grin. He holds the eye contact while positioning himself between your legs, and he slowly takes your underwear off.
“I’m going to make you feel so good,” he vows as he slides two fingers inside of you. You groan again, and your eyes squeeze shut involuntarily.
He pumps his fingers in and out of you in a steady rhythm. Your eyes are still closed, so you don’t see his head dip down. But suddenly, you feel is his warm tongue on your clit, and every nerve in your body jolts.
“Holy fuck,” you moan. He hums in response, and the subtle vibrations send a wave of pleasure down your spine. You barely notice him add a third finger. “I’m about to cum,” you gasp. Your first orgasm hits you fast and intense, and you grab a fistful of his hair to ride it out. After the currents subside, you pull him up to kiss you.
#9: Dennis Whitaker is extremely good at eating pussy.
“You are the sexiest woman I’ve ever met,” he says, looking at you as if he can't believe you're real.
“That was so hot. No one’s ever gotten me there that fast,” you tell him. He glows hearing this.
Normally, this is the part of the hookup script where the guy asks if you have any condoms because he wants his turn, but Dennis just scoots towards the headboard to position himself behind you. You lean your head back to rest on his shoulder, thinking he wants to cuddle. Right as your body adjusts to the new position, he reaches down and starts rubbing your clit again, causing you to gasp. Still sensitive from the first orgasm, you’re quickly brought to the edge of another.
Your body doesn’t quite know what to do with the sensory overload. It wants the release, but you’re struggling to actually get there. The pleasure is so overwhelming that your back arches involuntarily, and a guttural noise escapes your lips.
“Come on baby, give it to me,” he coos.
“I– want to,” you huff out. The feeling in your core grows hotter, and you finally reach the crest again. He keeps his legs wrapped around yours and braces you with his free arm to prevent you from moving too far. You reach behind your head to try and grab his hair, the headboard, anything to steady yourself. Your body contorts as a second, stronger orgasm ripples through you.
Eventually it slows, but his hand doesn’t. He keeps the same pace, with the same pressure, and your clit is on fire. “It’s so sensitive,” you whine.
He laughs quietly at the obvious statement, but he slows slightly and eases the pressure. “Better?”
Oh, so he’s not stopping until you cum again.
He kisses your exposed neck and continues with the gentler circles. The heat builds again in your abdomen, but slower. Softer. This time, it’s like a warm wave instead of a tsunami. You relax into his embrace and let the third orgasm wash over you. Your entire lower body feels like sea foam. If you weren’t looking at your legs with your own eyes, you wouldn’t even be sure they were still there.
“How are you feeling?” He asks, lips pressed against your neck, his curls tickling the side of your face. Sweat glistens on both of your bodies.
You can barely form a sentence. “So good,” you manage.
“Good.”
After a few minutes of letting yourself be held by him, a thought occurs to you. Two, actually. His pants are still on, and you really want to suck his dick.
“Dennis?”
You tilt your head up to look at him, and he peers down at you.
“Hm?”
“Wanna know what I like to think about when I’m all alone in the shop?” You ask slowly, dancing your fingers across his chest and stomach. “Well, besides everything you just did,” you add.
His breath hitches in his throat for a moment, but he plays it off. “What’s that?” His voice sounds like syrup. Maple, you think to yourself.
“I'll tell you my favorite. I start by stroking your cock,” you say, flattening your hand against his stomach. “Very slowly.” You slightly slip your fingers under the waistband of his boxers. “You beg me to go faster, but I make you wait.”
He reaches to unbuckle his belt, but you stop him. “Like I just told you, I make you wait.” A slight groan escapes from him.
You sit up and turn around, and then you position yourself so you’re straddling him. He rests rest on your hips. “Then what?” He asks, clearly impatient.
Despite the fact he’s already given you three orgasms, and even though you are eager to return the favor, you want to drag this out. “
”Then, Dennis,” you say, barely tracing your fingers along his chest and down his arms, “once you’re aching for me and your cock is twitching, I lean in closer,” you pause as you lean into his face and press your lips against his cheek, “and I kiss it.”
He involuntarily squeezes your hips. “Fuck,” he moans. You reposition yourself, scooting down a bit so you can reach his belt. Before you can even put your hands on the metal, he’s removed the belt and tugged off his pants. He leaves his boxers on though, which leads you to think he wants you to keep teasing him.
You reach down and begin to stroke the prominent outline of his boner through the fabric. “I kiss the head,” you say, kissing his forehead. “I kiss the shaft,” and his neck, “and then…” you trail off, but you plant a kiss on each of his pecs before pulling his boxers down.
“Please,” he groans, “please suck my dick.”
You smile, lower yourself to his hips, and do exactly that. You place your lips around the head of his dick and take the full length of it in your mouth, causing him to suck in air through his teeth. “Holy fuck,” he nearly shouts.
He’s pretty big, so you curl your hand around the lower part of his shaft and focus your lips and tongue on the rest. Your other hand is laced with his, at his side. As you bob up and down, you listen to the groans and grunts that you’re eliciting from him. It’s music to your ears.
“Fuck, you’re so good at this. Oh my god,” he says between pants. Then, “I fucking love you.”
#10: Dennis Whitaker fucking loves you.
Momentarily startled, you stop and lift your head up to look at him. He clearly didn’t mean to say that out loud. His eyes are wide and frightened, but yours are unfazed. You already knew this to be true, somehow. He tries to pull his hand out of your interlocked fingers, but you tighten your grip. A coy smile spreads across your lips.
“You promise?” You ask, lowering your mouth back down onto him. You return to the same rhythm, but you also start to pump using the hand still wrapped around the base. Each time your mouth reaches the tip of his cock, you swipe your tongue across the head, which makes him jerk.
His breathing quickens, and you can tell he’s close. He reaches down and cups the back of your head with his hand. “I’m gonna cum, holy shit—”
He bucks his hips and spills into your mouth, salty, sweet, and moaning your name. You can feel his cock twitch with every burst.
Once he’s spent, you move up towards him and kiss his lips gently. Then, you lean in close and whisper,
“I fucking love you, too.”
. ܁₊ ⊹ . ܁ ⟡ ܁ . ⊹ ₊ ܁.