Original Fic - Tips, 1/1
Summary: Bridget offers Collin a little teasing.
Pairing: Collin/Eric
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: Written for the Sept. 20 prompt on Love for Every Holiday (Women's Friendship Day). Modern Magic verse. Takes place during First Meetings, Second Chances, but can stand as a one-shot.
Tips
"Well, sucks for you."
Collin scowled down at the money on the counter. He tried not to let himself rely too much on having regulars who tipped well -- too many of their regulars weren't in a position to guarantee their income month-to-month, anyway -- but he'd spent the past two weeks slowly coming to expect that the one guy who should have been driven off would show up for dinner despite his waiter's blatant insults. And that Eric'd tip.
Just when he'd started to think the wolf was worth having around, too.
"Whatever. Least I don't have to deal with the place smelling like wolf."
Bridget snapped her gum instead of laughing, which did not bode well for the conversation. He began to hastily gather his cash.
"A person might wonder why you aren't in a better mood, then."
"I'm -- I'm in a perfectly good mood! I'm just..." He flailed. "I'm just ticked off that table four stiffed me!"
"Yeah, like they do every week. It's the job, get over it," she snickered. He glared. Maybe someday he could sneak into the salon when she was getting her hair done and get them to dye her green and yellow. "A person might also wonder if you doth protest too much. Or whatever."
Maybe he'd just dump crazy glue in her conditioner.
"A person?"
"A person," she continued dangerously, "might think that as someone who's done first-year philosophy -- twice -- you'd have decided that the logic that says all werewolves are assholes because all the werewolves you've ever met were assholes was faulty, not that any werewolf you meet in future is guaranteed to be an asshole even if he doesn't act like it all the time."
"When did this get to be about werewolves?" he asked plaintively. She raised an eyebrow at him.
"When you brought up the place smelling like wolf."
"I didn't..."
"You did. Ahem. A person might even think you miss wolfboy."
He glared at her. He might miss the tip, but he wasn't going to admit he missed the deliciously built brunette who always sat in his section and was pretty polite about watching his ass, even when he put a little extra swish into it.
"I don't..."
She returned his glare. He wavered.
"He's probably not coming back, anyway."
"Well, with the way you treat him..."
He rolled his eyes, considerately not bringing up the way she'd tried to ban Eric from the restaurant in the first place.
"Plus, he was probably straight. Or an ass in bed. You know how alphas are."
She... paused. He re-ran that last sentence in his head, realized just how much of his past she now had the ability to decipher, and swore under his breath. He waited as she piled her own small haul of cash into a purse that looked like someone had gone a bit wild with origami, tucked it thoughtfully into her backpack, and seemed to come to some kind of decision.
"On the possibility that he's not, some people would tell you to give him another chance. I'm not telling you I'd say that, but..."
"Some people," he repeated, and glanced reflectively over at Eric's usual table. "Yeah. Some people would."
She was almost out the door when she interrupted his ruminating to toss back,
"Not many can put up with you, and he's been paying for the privilege."
He glared. She grinned, and continued on her way.