To a Tea 3
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Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: A demanding customer grows increasingly needy.
Character: Raymond Smith
The title is a pun, don’t @ me.
Please comment and reblog if it’s not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved.
Six days in a row and you’re ready to keel over. Amid your busy schedule, you hadn’t a chance to fill your quickly dwindling cupboards and fridge. So, after a ten-hour shift on your feet, running all around the tables and between tea rooms, you expend the last of your strength on a quick trip to the shop.
It isn’t too far out of your way. It’s just a half-block away from your stop. You could wait until tomorrow, your day off, but you’re dying for a strawberry shortcake mochi before you tuck into bed. The rest of your night isn’t too unusual; you’ll be happy to fall asleep to an episode of the same old sitcom that you know by rote.
You yawn over the bask hooked over your elbow. You have your mochi and a few other staples to get you through; eggs, oat milk, and your favourite brand of granola. You rub your forehead as a stitch threatens to imprint itself permanently. Tomorrow you’ll do a proper shop.
You stop just before the cashier and peruse the discount shelf. Those chocolate-covered gummy worms are deadly. You shouldn’t.
You reach for the package, eyeing it up, blinking away another yawn. Those will only have you waking up with a sore tummy.
“You’d be better off with the dark chocolate, or even the peanuts,” someone says. The timbre is dulcet but firm, and strangely familiar.
You look over at the figure standing around the side of the shelves. You fear you might be hallucinating as you stare at Raymond. He has a square of protein chocolate in hand but sets it back where he got it, making certain it and every other bar is straight.
“Oh, hi?” You stammer.
The tea shop is busy and you’re certain you’ve probably crossed paths with at least one customer outside store hours, but never like this. If anything, you both look the other way and carry on. Instead, he’s intent on you, shifting to face you fully as he sets his shoulders, clutching his hands before him.
“Though I do suppose you’ve already got the ice cream, it hardly matters what else you add to your lot,” he muses.
You look in your basket then at him. Is he judging you? Mr. Black Tea, plain. You hang the bag back on the hook. As you do, he steps forward and you shuffle back on your heels. He pulls the bag in line with others, rescinding his hand with a flutter of fingers.
“If you’re in the mind for something sweet, there’s a place near here, it has a sticky toffee pudding more worth the expense,” he suggests.
You don’t know what to say. You haven’t seen him since he muttered about your apron strings. In the two weeks after, you assumed he might not come back. As particular as he is, you thought you’d gone egregiously over the line. And yet, you’d forgotten about him for all the other bodies passing through the door.
“Thanks, I’ll look into that,” you say.
“Mm,” he hums and his eyes flit up and down behind his lenses, “you sound different.”
“Do I?” You reach to scratch your neck.
“You look different too.”
You tilt your head and give a confused grimace, “well, I...” you glance down, “suppose I'm not wearing my apron.”
“Must be it,” he agrees, “you sound tired.”
“I guess... yeah,” you take a breath and let it out slowly.
It’s strange. He’s not a customer here, there is no need to please and yet you feel you must. You poke the tip of your tongue out then hide it behind your lips.
“Not in a bad way,” he assures you.
“Right, thanks,” you say in a fracture, “that’s nice, but uh, I... I’m just on my way home.”
“I know,” he says.
“...so then I’ll just be--” you point towards the checkout and falter, “what did you say?”
“Yes, down Trafalgar. I know. It’s late,” he peers over towards the transparent walls along the front of the shop, “these parts aren’t too safe this time of day.”
“Trafal--“ you begin but can’t finish, “Raymond.”
He blinks, his expression scarily placid.
“Details,” he says evenly, “it is best to keep note of them. It is dangerous not to mind them.” He raises a finger, “one might not notice the shadow that walks behind theirs or the window they left open in the kitchen.”
Your lip trembles as your heart sinks, “have you... have you been following me?”
“Following... that sounds sinister,” he gives a crooked expression, “no, no, I would consider it... I keep you safe.”
“Safe. From what, exactly?”
He narrows his eyes and his lips straighten thoughtfully.
“Well, from men like me.”
His words turn your blood to ice. Men like him. What does he mean?
“I...” you take a step back and he moves with you. You put your hand up to stop him as you still, “Raymond, do not come any closer.”
“You don’t understand, I wouldn’t hurt you,” he says, “that’s what makes me different. Not like those other men.”
“I mean it,” you warn him. “If you come any closer, I will make a scene.”
Your adrenaline courses through you. You’re awake now. The yawns have dissipated and your eyes are wide.
“Ah, and that’s where I am like the other men,” he shrugs, “it doesn’t matter if I come closer to you right now. Hardly matters. Because I can wait. I have waited. And when I...” he steps towards you and you put the basket between you, his stomach pressing against it, “come closer, you will not even see me coming.”
You stare at him, horrified. His blue eyes gleam and he reaches to straighten his glasses. He smirks and his brows draw up coyly. He leans in and you lean away. Then suddenly, he backs off and tugs his cuffs straight, then fixes his tie.
“Don’t forget to close your window,” he says as he spins on his heel, “wouldn’t want some nocturnal creature creeping in.”
You gape after him as he saunters off. You can’t quiet move as disbelief has you stuck to the spot. It’s all so sudden. So unexpected. How could you ever predict something like this? The uptight man from the tea shop, a stranger really, a face who disappeared for a whole fortnight, and he’s just shaken your entire world into disarray.
Men like him? You don’t even know who he is. Only his name and how he likes his tea.
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