Discovered in the Christmas Tree: Gestures
The sun is shining, reminiscent of warm summer days, but the air is dry and crisp, a reminder that winter is just around the corner. When customers come into the shop, they bring with them aromas of coffee and toast, of bacon and sausages from the café across the road and it makes her mouth water despite the muesli she had for breakfast not two hours previously.
She smiles at her customers and asks if they need any assistance. After a little discussion, they leave the shop happy with their purchase and she places the unwanted items back in the display stand. She gazes out of the window at the rest of the High Street going about its business. It's still early in the day and the pavement is not too cluttered. The restaurant has just put out a 'Morning Coffee' sign and the café next door to it has had different customers sitting outside since she came into work, enjoying the unexpected sunshine.
Two men sitting are sitting at a table, having an animated conversation. One of them with dark, wavy hair is leaning forward with his elbows on the table. The other man, distinguished-looking with silvery-grey streaks running through his untamed shaggy hair, is laughing at something his friend has said. Not a polite smile but a head-thrown-back belly laugh that makes their waitress smile along with him.
The first man sits back and she can see him smiling now. A grin that lights up his face as he smacks his friend on the arm with the back of his hand and makes a gesture that means something to the two of them. They look at each other and fall silent for a while before reaching for their cups and resuming their conversation. They seem comfortable with each other, heads together in discussion, and she wonders if they're old friends recently reacquainted.
She shakes her head, smiling ruefully at herself as she closes and locks the display cabinet. Making up stories about other people - no matter how handsome or intriguing they are - is a pastime for teenage girls, not grown women of--
The bell on the shop door rings and she looks up as the two men from across the road walk in. She hadn't even noticed they'd got up from their table. "Good morning," she greets them with a smile. "Would you like any help at all?"
Up close, they're even more intriguing. Both tall, although not quite up to six foot as the height marker by the shop door indicates. The first man, with the dark hair and broad shoulders, answers, "Yes, we would, thank you," as he pulls off his gloves.
The other man, with the wild hair and crooked cheekbone, pulls off his own gloves. "I'd like to buy a ring," he says and she's surprised by the resonance of his well-spoken voice and by the thrill it sends down her spine. She straightens up, expectantly.
"Two rings," his friend corrects.
They turn to each other as if one and the dark-haired man raises an eyebrow. "What? You did the asking, Ray. Put your money where your mouth is."
"Okay." There's a hint of a smile on the handsome face as he turns back to her. "Apparently, I'm buying two rings."
"Matching rings," the first man insists.
"You don't think that's too... over the top?"
"It's romantic, that's what it is."
She watches the exchange with a little confusion, which is cleared up when the first man - Ray - sighs and, leaning his hip against the counter, says to her, "We've been together over thirty years and now he wants romance."
"Not too much to ask, is it? All these years I've spent looking after you."
The tone is light, and it's obviously meant as a joke, but they exchange a look again and she gets the feeling she's missing something. Ray snorts and his friend grins, rocking back on his heels and keeping his balance perfectly.
"Wouldn't believe he's ex-SAS, would you, love?" the man called Ray tells her confidentially.
She tilts her head at the dark-haired man who beams back, unabashedly.
"I believe the 'ex' part," she whispers, playing along as she chooses a selection of rings for them to peruse.
Whatever their story, it looks as though it has a happy ending.
~End~
Title: Gestures.
Author: Hambel
Slash or Gen: Slash
Archive at ProsLib/Circuit: Yes/Yes
Disclaimer: They’re not mine. No, really, they're not.
Notes: Written for the 2011 Discovered in the Christmas Tree challenge. No warnings needed.