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Barclay had an immediate and virulent dislike for anybody who walked into his shop wearing a suit.
That may have seemed mean, but he had good reason: the only people who wore suits in rural west virginia were assholes from whatever “corporate office” sent to fuck with the people running their stores, or feds. That was it. People around here didn’t even put on suits for funerals.
So Barclay was not impressed by the suit at his coffee shop counter, and he was especially not impressed when- despite the gleaming espresso machine right behind the counter- he asked if they “had cappuccinos.”
“No.”
The man blinked, looked at the machine, looked back at Barclay. Barclay stared him down even more intensely and crossed his arms across his chest, preparing to get yelled at.
To his utter shock, the man laughed.
It wasn’t a dignified laugh, or the tightly controlled sound of someone forcing it. He wheezed a little, giggling, and it was the last sound Barclay was expecting to come out of this man in his black suit and tie, with his severe haircut and the scar across his chin.
It was also very, very cute.
“I suppose I deserved that.” the man managed, and it clicked in Barclay’s head that he was
gaping
and needed to stop.
“You did.” Barclay winced, thinking that had sounded too harsh too, but the man just giggled again.
“Does that mean I’ve lost my cappuccino privileges?” He was grinning, wide and goofy, and Barclay couldn’t help but smile right back.
“Maybe I’ll let you off with a warning this time.”
“I’d be very honored.”
It was Barclay’s turn to snort at the false solemn tone, and he was rewarded with another megawatt grin. (Damn, why was a fed this fucking cute?)
Barclay sighed, ringing up the drink and tapping the menu meaningfully, right next to where it said
cappuccino.
“For next time, since I assume you need to be able to read for that fancy government job.”
He tried to keep that wince internal, realizing that had maybe sounded a bit too bitter, but the agent just rolled his eyes as he stuck his card in the reader.
“You would think, but some of my coworkers don’t seem to have gotten that memo.”
Barclay couldn’t help the look on his face, and the man looked embarrassed, so he let it pass.
“Can I get your name? For the order?”
“Stern. Can I get yours? For....personal reasons?”
Barclay snorted, tapping his nametag.
“Are you
sure
you know how to read?”
Stern stared at the nametag in silence, the only sound the card reader beeping at him to remove his hard. After what felt like an eternity, Stern sighed heavily, and pulled his card out.
“Is it too late for me to say ‘it’s a shame you don’t have cappuccinos’ and leave, never to return? Before I embarrass myself any further.”
“Way too late.” Barclay grinned. “You haven’t even gotten my name yet. Or my number.”
They blinked at each other, since neither one of them had been expecting him to say that, especially not Barclay. Barclay took a step back, grabbing the cup for the cappucino.
“Assuming you’re- uh. Not straight. And interested. Hey, I know this is my shop, but is it too late for me to go wandering off into the night, never to return?”
Stern giggled again, and Barclay felt himself relax.
“Way too late. You haven’t heard me say yes yet.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It took Barclay over a month to ask the fatal question.
The worst part was that it hadn’t even been deliberate. Barclay hadn't been avoiding the painful truth or trying to make the rush last he was just- enjoying himself. He was happy going on dates, and he had hit just about every stupid tourist attraction in town before the evening he was already calling, internally, an hour later, The Evening Where It All Went Wrong.
Actually, there was just one place they hadn’t gone.
And so Barclay thought- since he was thinking about taking Stern back to the lodge meet-the-parents style, that he should probably ask what exactly Stern was doing in the FBI.
It hadn’t actually occured to Barclay that he could be doing anything
dangerous.
Feds came and went, and most of them had stupid-ass jobs and did paperwork.
He was in absolutely no way prepared for the answer “Unexplained Phenomena.”
He was so unprepared that he’d asked
in public,
at a fucking restaurant, on their eighth date (not that Barclay was counting) and had
immediately
dropped his fucking glass.
He’d stammered out an apology, tried to recover, and looked up. Stern had a look in his eyes that Barclay didn’t like.
Well, normally he liked it very much, because it was the look Stern got when he was on the verge of a realization. Most days, that meant positive things. Like exactly what Barclay’s favorite kind of pasta was, or exactly where the sensitive spots were on his neck. Today, given that five seconds ago Barclay had made a very poor segue from his family at the lodge to Stern’s job, that was not good news.
Barclay wasn’t proud of his reaction.
He panicked, stammered out an excuse, and ran.
___
He burst into the lodge like a bat out of hell, and Dani got a look at his facial expression and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him out the back door and toward the springs so they could speak undisturbed.
Barclay collapsed next to the springs with a sigh, pulling his shoes off and throwing them in the direction of the door. He stuck his feet in the water and flopped over backwards.
“I fucked up.”
Dani hummed.
“Does this have anything to do with that guy that you’re totally in love with?”
“Yes.” Barclay realized a second too late what he’d said and sat up.
“I mean no. I mean yes, but- I haven’t told him- I mean I’m not-”
Dani gave him a
look.
He sighed.
“Yes and yes.”
“That’s more like it. So what is it?”
Barclay kicked a foot into the water.
“He’s from the FBI’s Unexplained Phenomena division.”
“Oh
no.
”
Barclay opened his mouth to say something else, but he was interrupted by Mama flinging open the back door.
“Barclay,” She hissed. “Why is there a fucking
fed
at my front door asking for you?”
Oh no.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Barclay had invented and dismissed a dozen excuses by the time he got to the front door, but they all flew out of his head when he saw Stern, still wearing his soaking wet suit jacket and making the face he’d made when Barclay had told him the cafe didn’t have cappuccinos, in the split second before he’d started laughing.
Maybe this wasn’t going to end terribly after all.
Still, Barclay stuck his hands in his pockets and hesitated in the doorway for a moment before he made a decision.
“Hey, Stern, do you wanna come in?”
Stern looked up at him, his expression a little scared and a little hopeful. Barclay wondered if it was weird that he’d never brought his boyfriend back to the lodge- Stern had brought him to FBI provided housing once, a week ago, and it occurs to barclay that maybe that’s just as big a declaration of trust as bringing Stern here is.
He can feel Mama glaring at him, but he takes Stern’s hand and tugs him down the hall to his room, and he makes sure the door is shut and locked behind him before he turns around.
His fear eased a little bit more when Stern settles on his bed, kicking off his shoes and smiling easily.
“So I take it you didn’t actually need to....water your laundry.”
Barclay facepalmed.
“Please tell me that isn’t what I said.”
“I can tell you that, if you’d like. It’d be a lie, but I could say it.”
Barclay groaned and, before he could overthink it, flopped dramatically on the bed next to Stern. And- like it was easy, like he hadn’t just had a panic attack in the middle of a restaurant, Stern curled into his side.
“What’s going on, babe?”
Barclay rolled over, wrapping his arms around Stern and pushing his face into his chest. HIs boyfriend stroked his hair, gave him a moment before speaking.
“Alright, I’m gonna make some guesses, and maybe you should just....stop me if i’m off base.”
Barclay nodded.
“Hypothetically, if I was part of a task force that hunted cryptids, in connection with a recently acquired lead that suggested that some could blend in with people-”
Barclay tensed, but Stern just kept stroking his hair.
“-a lead that wasn’t taken terribly seriously, since the only person assigned to investigate it was a gay junior officer the department is trying to set up for failure so they have an excuse to fire him. That officer might understand why his boyfriend would absolutely panic at the mention of what department he works for.”
Stern pressed a kiss to the top of Barclay’s head.
“Does that sound about right?”
Barclay couldn’t quite find it in himself to answer, his head spinning, but Stern seemed to hear the confirmation anyway.
“Of course, given that it was obvious that the lead was a trap, that hypothetical agent probably has a couple of different backup plans.”
Barclay sighed.
“I’m bigfoot.”
Stern hummed.
“Okay, that was a bit more than I was expecting, but I can roll with it. Anything else you need to tell me?”
Barclay was worried for a moment, but Stern’s tone was light, and when he looked up, his boyfriend's eyes were sparkling.
“I love you?”
Stern snorted.
“Okay- two things- I don’t like how that was a question, and actually, I was hoping for a ‘sorry I ditched out of dinner and poured water on you and left you will the bill’ but you know what, i’ll take that.”
Barclay winced.
“In my defense-”
“I know. I love you too.”
Barclay sighed, feeling like he’d been holding his breath since Mama had told him Stern was out front.
“So you’re not......going to tell the FBI about me?”
Stern actually looked offended.
“Absolutely not. Even if we weren’t together- I’m not a
monster.
And that tip was in such bad faith that proving it right would give me a reputation to live up to, which, frankly, seems like a pain.”
Barclay snorted.
“God forbid you be a legend in your department.”
“Sounds like the kind of pain where people start running background checks on the people in my personal life. Which I would, hypothetically, like to avoid.”
Barclay winced, and Stern kissed his forehead.
“Now that that’s settled, did you want to introduce me to your family? Since I’m fairly certain that was your intention with that question.”
Barclay tipped his head up, kissing Stern more firmly.
“Yes.”