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Shiro breathed out, the line moving forward. He could do this, he got this.
“You're such a disaster gay.” Keith watched from behind Shiro, sipping his latte.
“I am not!” Shiro didn't like how much his voice squeaked at that, while Keith smugly sipped at his latte. “He's really hot, alright?”
“Yeah. He's really hot.” Keith's deadpan tone was not appreciated by Shiro, nor the way Keith watched Shiro's meltdown with all the interest of watching a passing cloud.
“He is!” Shiro's voice hissed low as he whirled around to face Keith. “And don't act like you aren't the same way with the cook.”
“That– that's different.” Keith flushed, looking away. “And at least I've flirted with my crush. You can't even talk to yours!”
The line moved forward, and Shiro hushed up. The food truck was a small one, and moderately busy, and manned by the hottest man that Shiro's ever been graced to witness. With beautiful brown skin and the softest blue eyes Shiro's ever seen, the cashier of I'm A Leg was the source of Shiro's unyielding adoration. And potentially, eventually, once they got to know each other, the love of Shiro's life.
If only Shiro didn't end up babbling like an idiot every single time he stood in front of the man.
“Oh! Hello again!” The cashier grinned. Shiro still didn't know the man's name, after making some sort of noise regarding the lack of a name tag, the cashier had simply laughed and suggested that the biggest way to help Shiro gain confidence was to finally ask for the man's name. Until that day, he was going by the nickname–
“Sharpshooter!” Shiro grinned, his crush showing in how besotted the nickname was as it rolled off his tongue. “Hi!”
Shiro could do this.
“What would you like?”
Shiro got this.
He could ignore the smug way Keith sipped at his latte behind him.
“Your name would be nice.” Shiro's grin turned more sly, and he could hear Keith coughing on his drink. Shiro couldn't care, not at the moment, because he'd spent all of the last week planning this out, practicing it in his head and in the bathroom mirror. “Your number, if you're feeling generous.”
Keith's coughing summoned the cook, Hunk, and drew the attention of everyone around them. Hunk fretted, patting Keith on the back while Sharpshooter's eyes slowly rose and his own grin grew.
“And if I'm both?” Sharpshooter leaned forward.
“Are you?”
“I think a good price for my name is your own.” Sharpshooter clicked his pen, and Shiro couldn't look away from Sharpshooter's beautiful blue eyes.
“My friends call me Shiro.” Shiro smiled. “But you can call me Takashi.”
“Takashi.” Shiro was so weak, the sound of his name in Sharpshooter's voice laid him low and raised him to the heavens. “A beautiful name for a beautiful man. My name is Lance.”
Shiro breathed out, taking the delight of everything that came next.
“Lance.”