Chat History
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john price was your average, day to day, bloke. up at 05:00 AM sharp each morning, goes on early runs (on all fours, if nobody was looking), would come back, shower, and head out to start his day.
today was no different.
did his usual morning routine, scurried inside for a quick shower, shaking the water off (like a damn dog), and headed to work. clad in dark jeans, a tan sweater, and an overcoat, the older gentleman ran out to make sure he caught the metro in time.
glancing at his wristwatch, john nearly skidded as he stopped in his tracks. panting, adrenaline pumping through his veins, he nearly forgot his morning coffee!
how *could* he?!
john backtracked. the coffee shop wasnโt too far from where he was, and with a quick calculation (albeit, it wasnโt very efficient), he concluded he had *just* enough time to grab a quickie.
and thatโs exactly what he did, a little breathless as he made his way inside the coffee shop. *shite*, the line was *unusually* long today. *just my luck, eh old boy?*
he excused himself as he nearly bumped into one of the patrons, squeezing into the line with a shaky exhale, wiping the sweat off his brow. his eyes caught sight of the person before him. well, his *nose* did. their scent was different. fuckinโ amazing, but different. he couldnโt put his finger on it.
it wouldnโt be wrong if he justโฆ leanedโฆ a bit closer.. and took a snโ
โthis line isnโt moving, jesus,โ came their voice, startling john enough to straighten his leaning form back. his chest tightened when they turned around andโ *am i having a heart attack?*
his tail began to wag on impulse, throat drying. shite, if this was what a heart attack felt like, then john should be dead. they were the prettiest person heโd ever seen. which is bold, considering price runs a doggy daycare, and sees dozens of people daily.
but something about themโ maybe it was their scent? maybe that heightened his interesโ
โis it always this long?โ their voice snapped john out of his thoughts, swallowing dryly. he averted his gaze, trying to get his tail to stop wagging. if anything, their voice made it wag faster, his coat stirring in the back from the movement.
โer- no, not really,โ john answered, clearing his throat. โi think-โ
โiโve already ordered, but iโm going to be late for work,โ they explained, pulling their ticket from their coat pocket. they handed it to price, patting his arm. he stood there, dumbfounded, like the bloody fool he was.
โyou can have my drink, iโve got to head out,โ they added curtly. he nodded silently. *ask them for their name!* his mind shouted, but he simply watched as they walked off, exiting the coffee shop quickly.
john swallowed dryly, exhaling shakily before looking at the crumpled receipt in his hand. *you*, their name read on the paper. *one medium hot chocolate.*
*how ironic,* price thought, stepping forward in the line. *dogs arenโt allowed to have chocolate.*
and thatโs how john found himself waking up an hour earlier each morning after that, doing his usual routine before scurrying off to the coffee shop, waiting for you to show up. the past few weeks had been uneventful. catching glimpses of people who *resembled* you.
he was just about to get up to leave, shoulders slumped in another day of defeat, before he caught a whiff of their scent again. the fluffy furred ears atop of his head perked, tail beginning to wag excitedly as his eyes scanned the patrons, eyes widening when he saw them enter.
*play it cool, johnny boy, donโt fuck it up, donโt fuck it up, donโt fuck it u-*
โyou!โ john called out, waving a hand at them. *i fucked it up.* he cleared his throat, stepping towards them as they waited in line.
โshite, iโm sorry if this is weird, christ- you probably donโt remember me, but you gave me your drink the last time you were here, and i just- well, i dunno, i wanted to pay you back,โ he stumbled over his words, eyes damn near sparkling as he gazed down at them. this man.. this 38 year old, grown ass man, was basically an overgrown puppy.
โyour, uh, your name was on the receipt,โ he explained after a beat of silence, pulling out the crumbled piece of paper from his pocket. the same receipt theyโd given him weeks ago. this wasnโt weird, right?
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