[newtypeshadow] The Lucky Chair
Title: The Lucky Chair
Author: newtypeshadow
Rating: PG
Fandom: Original
Pairing: Jake/Paul
Wordcount: 1221
Warnings: schmoop?
Notes: from PockyPuck (yGallery) title prompt "That Is One Lucky Chair," with rating specification PG or under. Also, Joe's Cafe is a real place in Seattle. Not entirely sure if the Lucky Chair exists (I can't remember), but the balcony is there and the cafe is good times.
It was just an old chair from the corner of Joe's Cafe on the indoor balcony. There was nothing really special about it-and Paul told his friend as much even as he let Jake shove him up the rickety stairs no one liked to go up just to reach a dim balcony where there was no sugar if you needed it, or any napkins for when you inevitably stumbled with your drink on the stairs.
But still Jake insisted, “It's a lucky chair!” as he crossed the small balcony in three strides and plopped down on the plain wooden thing. He put his hands in his lap-no armrests-and looked expectantly at Paul.
Paul rolled his eyes and pulled up a chair from one of the two empty tables. “So...how will you know when it works?” he asked, sitting sideways on the ratty cushioned seat and resting an arm on the top of the chair.
Jake closed his eyes and leaned back. “I'll know,” he said with certainty.
Paul sighed and pulled out his phone. He might as well text his mom and tell her he'd be home late-Jake was being his usual crazy self, and that meant Paul was duty-bound to keep him from doing anything that would cause irreparable damage. His and Jake's moms had been close since he and Jake declared each other Best Friends in first grade, so she knew how Jake could get.
Be home late. Jake's fault. Love you.
He hit “send” and glanced up at Jake. His friend's eyes were still closed. Straw-colored hair feathered across his forehead, and his normally-smiling lips were puckered in a frown. Paul sighed. It was gonna be a long time. He might as well get some coffee.
When Paul came back upstairs, mug of coffee in hand, Jake's eyes were open and he was smiling his “I got it!” smile. “Paul, I figured it out!” he said, patting the so-called “lucky” chair as Paul sat down at the table and carefully set his mug down.
“Did you have to figure whatever-it-is out right after I bought a drink? I could've saved the money if I knew you'd be ready to go so soon.”
Jake rolled his eyes and leaned forward in his chair. “Well, we do still have to talk, now that I know you have a crush on me.”
Paul froze. “Excuse me?”
“Well,” Jake said, going into Deduction Method Mode, “it started when I heard Mary tell Adam that you turned her down because you wanted to go with someone else to prom-”
“Yeah-my friends.”
Jake held up a finger. “No, at that point, I was the only person you knew for sure was going. You hadn't asked the rest of the guys yet.”
Paul glared at Jake. “I was planning to. And I did.”
“Of course. You didn't want it to look suspicious, especially since you're still worried about your grandma finding out you're gay and being upset-”
“I'm not gay.”
Jake gave Paul a skeptical look. “Bi then,” he said at last. “Anyway-”
“Wait-what-how did this even start?”
“With Mary,” Jake said slowly. “I told you that already. But I think it really started when you asked me to marry you in first grade.”
Paul's jaw dropped. “Are you serious? This is because of first grade?”
“And Mary. And prom. And you liking me but being afraid I'd tell you off and stop being your friend.”
“You wouldn't do-wait, would you do that?”
Jake kicked vaguely at Paul's shin. “Of course not! Idiot.”
Paul sipped his coffee, his rigid back betraying his nerves. “Right. So, uh...”
“So you want to take me to prom, but you're afraid to take me as a date. That's why you wanted to go stag this year.”
Paul sighed and set his coffee back on the table. “You're right. You're completely right. How did I ever think I could hide it from you?”
This time Jake's kick landed. “Nice try, but you still have to ask me.”
“If you know so much, why do I have to do anything?”
“Because I like when you acknowledge I'm right.”
Paul glared at Jake. “You're not gay.”
Jake grinned coaxingly at Paul. “You don't have to be scared to ask me. I just want to hear it from your mouth.”
“You're a jerk.”
“Not those words. The ones asking me to prom.”
Paul's glare intensified. “You realize you now have to say 'yes' since you brought it up.”
Jake shrugged.
Paul kicked him. “Come to prom with me.”
Jake sighed. “That was the most unromantic thing ever.”
“If you wanted romantic, you should have asked me.”
“Fine.” Jake took Paul's hand, and didn't let go when Paul tried to twist out of his grip. “Paul,” he said sweetly, “ten years ago you asked me to marry you, and I, foolish child that I was, said boys couldn't marry boys-they could only be friends.”
Paul's jaw clenched. He looked at the floor.
“Today, I would like to tell you definitively that boys can marry boys-and that while I think your proposal was rather premature,” he grinned and squeezed Paul's hand, “I finally have one for you: will you go to prom with me?”
Paul's eyes narrowed and his hand stilled in Jake's. When he looked up, he seemed uncertain.
“Please,” Jake said, face twisting into a ridiculous smile that Paul could never help snorting at.
“Fine. Yes, I'll go to prom with you,” Paul said, trying to hide his smile behind his other hand.
“Good.” Jake patted the chair he sat in, then took one at Paul's table without letting go of his hand. “I'm glad we've got that straightened out. Can I have a sip?”
Paul rolled his eyes and slid his coffee a few inches closer to Jake. “So romantic,” he muttered.
Jake preened. “It was, wasn't it?” He smiled as he sipped Paul's coffee, and Paul gave him a dark look. “So.” He put the coffee down. “I'm going to assume we're dating now. That makes this a first date after a long courtship. Do you kiss on first dates?”
“I...uh...”
Jake grinned and took another sip of coffee. “Keep in mind that we have known each other since we both ate dirt and dug up worms, so it's not like you'll be kissing just anybody.”
“You-”
“I'm leaning toward yes.”
Paul sat back in his chair and shook his head. “This is going to be interesting, isn't it?” he said to the table.
“Ask the lucky chair,” Jake said, tugging him over to the lucky chair, then plopping into his lap after he'd grudgingly sat down. Jake leaned against Paul's chest, coffee still in hand, and hummed contentedly.
After a moment, Paul wrapped his arms around Jake's waist and relaxed. Maybe it was a lucky chair, like Jake said... But right now, Paul was thoroughly convinced that the luckiest one on the balcony was himself.
...Even if his boyfriend was crazy.
Author: newtypeshadow
Rating: PG
Fandom: Original
Pairing: Jake/Paul
Wordcount: 1221
Warnings: schmoop?
Notes: from PockyPuck (yGallery) title prompt "That Is One Lucky Chair," with rating specification PG or under. Also, Joe's Cafe is a real place in Seattle. Not entirely sure if the Lucky Chair exists (I can't remember), but the balcony is there and the cafe is good times.
It was just an old chair from the corner of Joe's Cafe on the indoor balcony. There was nothing really special about it-and Paul told his friend as much even as he let Jake shove him up the rickety stairs no one liked to go up just to reach a dim balcony where there was no sugar if you needed it, or any napkins for when you inevitably stumbled with your drink on the stairs.
But still Jake insisted, “It's a lucky chair!” as he crossed the small balcony in three strides and plopped down on the plain wooden thing. He put his hands in his lap-no armrests-and looked expectantly at Paul.
Paul rolled his eyes and pulled up a chair from one of the two empty tables. “So...how will you know when it works?” he asked, sitting sideways on the ratty cushioned seat and resting an arm on the top of the chair.
Jake closed his eyes and leaned back. “I'll know,” he said with certainty.
Paul sighed and pulled out his phone. He might as well text his mom and tell her he'd be home late-Jake was being his usual crazy self, and that meant Paul was duty-bound to keep him from doing anything that would cause irreparable damage. His and Jake's moms had been close since he and Jake declared each other Best Friends in first grade, so she knew how Jake could get.
Be home late. Jake's fault. Love you.
He hit “send” and glanced up at Jake. His friend's eyes were still closed. Straw-colored hair feathered across his forehead, and his normally-smiling lips were puckered in a frown. Paul sighed. It was gonna be a long time. He might as well get some coffee.
When Paul came back upstairs, mug of coffee in hand, Jake's eyes were open and he was smiling his “I got it!” smile. “Paul, I figured it out!” he said, patting the so-called “lucky” chair as Paul sat down at the table and carefully set his mug down.
“Did you have to figure whatever-it-is out right after I bought a drink? I could've saved the money if I knew you'd be ready to go so soon.”
Jake rolled his eyes and leaned forward in his chair. “Well, we do still have to talk, now that I know you have a crush on me.”
Paul froze. “Excuse me?”
“Well,” Jake said, going into Deduction Method Mode, “it started when I heard Mary tell Adam that you turned her down because you wanted to go with someone else to prom-”
“Yeah-my friends.”
Jake held up a finger. “No, at that point, I was the only person you knew for sure was going. You hadn't asked the rest of the guys yet.”
Paul glared at Jake. “I was planning to. And I did.”
“Of course. You didn't want it to look suspicious, especially since you're still worried about your grandma finding out you're gay and being upset-”
“I'm not gay.”
Jake gave Paul a skeptical look. “Bi then,” he said at last. “Anyway-”
“Wait-what-how did this even start?”
“With Mary,” Jake said slowly. “I told you that already. But I think it really started when you asked me to marry you in first grade.”
Paul's jaw dropped. “Are you serious? This is because of first grade?”
“And Mary. And prom. And you liking me but being afraid I'd tell you off and stop being your friend.”
“You wouldn't do-wait, would you do that?”
Jake kicked vaguely at Paul's shin. “Of course not! Idiot.”
Paul sipped his coffee, his rigid back betraying his nerves. “Right. So, uh...”
“So you want to take me to prom, but you're afraid to take me as a date. That's why you wanted to go stag this year.”
Paul sighed and set his coffee back on the table. “You're right. You're completely right. How did I ever think I could hide it from you?”
This time Jake's kick landed. “Nice try, but you still have to ask me.”
“If you know so much, why do I have to do anything?”
“Because I like when you acknowledge I'm right.”
Paul glared at Jake. “You're not gay.”
Jake grinned coaxingly at Paul. “You don't have to be scared to ask me. I just want to hear it from your mouth.”
“You're a jerk.”
“Not those words. The ones asking me to prom.”
Paul's glare intensified. “You realize you now have to say 'yes' since you brought it up.”
Jake shrugged.
Paul kicked him. “Come to prom with me.”
Jake sighed. “That was the most unromantic thing ever.”
“If you wanted romantic, you should have asked me.”
“Fine.” Jake took Paul's hand, and didn't let go when Paul tried to twist out of his grip. “Paul,” he said sweetly, “ten years ago you asked me to marry you, and I, foolish child that I was, said boys couldn't marry boys-they could only be friends.”
Paul's jaw clenched. He looked at the floor.
“Today, I would like to tell you definitively that boys can marry boys-and that while I think your proposal was rather premature,” he grinned and squeezed Paul's hand, “I finally have one for you: will you go to prom with me?”
Paul's eyes narrowed and his hand stilled in Jake's. When he looked up, he seemed uncertain.
“Please,” Jake said, face twisting into a ridiculous smile that Paul could never help snorting at.
“Fine. Yes, I'll go to prom with you,” Paul said, trying to hide his smile behind his other hand.
“Good.” Jake patted the chair he sat in, then took one at Paul's table without letting go of his hand. “I'm glad we've got that straightened out. Can I have a sip?”
Paul rolled his eyes and slid his coffee a few inches closer to Jake. “So romantic,” he muttered.
Jake preened. “It was, wasn't it?” He smiled as he sipped Paul's coffee, and Paul gave him a dark look. “So.” He put the coffee down. “I'm going to assume we're dating now. That makes this a first date after a long courtship. Do you kiss on first dates?”
“I...uh...”
Jake grinned and took another sip of coffee. “Keep in mind that we have known each other since we both ate dirt and dug up worms, so it's not like you'll be kissing just anybody.”
“You-”
“I'm leaning toward yes.”
Paul sat back in his chair and shook his head. “This is going to be interesting, isn't it?” he said to the table.
“Ask the lucky chair,” Jake said, tugging him over to the lucky chair, then plopping into his lap after he'd grudgingly sat down. Jake leaned against Paul's chest, coffee still in hand, and hummed contentedly.
After a moment, Paul wrapped his arms around Jake's waist and relaxed. Maybe it was a lucky chair, like Jake said... But right now, Paul was thoroughly convinced that the luckiest one on the balcony was himself.
...Even if his boyfriend was crazy.