Warriors
Title: Warriors
Pairing:Jack/Alex
Rating:PG-13
Summary: Jack is a soldier. Alex works in a cafe.
A/N: hi so this could be a standalone but idk i quite liked writing this so depending on interest i could write more ok
We met in a café. I was a waiter, you were a soldier, dressed in green camouflage, you looked tired and you were dragging a suitcase. It wasn’t that I had never seen a soldier; it was pretty common in a big city like Baltimore. You sat down in the back corner, and I watched as another waiter took your order, you didn’t smile, didn’t say anything to anyone, you were quiet. As soon as you finished your coffee, you placed a bill on the table, and thanked the waiter quietly as he told you that it would be on the house. You gave a ghost of a smile, collected your things and walked onto the sidewalk. It wasn’t raining, it wasn’t dramatic or special, you just turned around to look at the café again, and ended up looking directly at me. You still didn’t smile, just looked for a moment before turning and walking down the street.
I saw you again a few weeks later in the café; you came alone, but a woman, probably your girlfriend, came in, after I had taken your order, and sat down across from you. You didn’t wear your uniform this time, but the black jacket you were wearing looked too big for you. The woman kept smiling at you, but you remained stoic. You just sipped your black coffee, never smiling, never doing anything except occasionally saying something that made her frown. She left before you, tears streaming down her face. You didn’t seem affected, just continued to sip your coffee. I occasionally refilled your cup, and you would murmur a soft “thank you”.
After a few more days, you came back, sat in the back corner, sipped black coffee, sometimes you read a book, and plugged in some headphones. The titles differed, but most were old classics like “As I Lay Dying”, and “The Catcher in the Rye”. I walked over to refill your cup when I saw that you were finished.
“Have you read any of these?” You asked suddenly. I jumped a bit, almost dropping the coffee pot. You didn’t say anything.
“Oh, um, I read As I Lay Dying in high school. And the Catcher in the Rye is my favorite book, so yeah…” I said, standing over you awkwardly.
“Okay. Thank you for the coffee.” You went back to your book, and put your headphones back in your ears. I just nodded and went to return the coffee pot.
You became a regular in the café; you came in everyday, read your books, sipped your coffee, and left with a quiet thank you. I eventually learned your name, not that I asked, or you said, you just handed me a credit card. I read the words out to myself, “Jack Barakat.” It took me a minute to get your last name, but I got it. I smiled as I ran it through the machine. I handed you back the card, and smiled at you as you got up. You smiled back, just a small tug at the corners of your mouth, but it was there. It was nice, warm, and kind.
A few weeks later, you asked for my name. I was pouring you a fresh cup of coffee when you asked, “Hey, I feel like an ass, but um, what’s your name?”
I smiled, and said, “Alex,” and even though I already knew I asked, “What about you?”
You didn’t smile; just took a sip from your cup and said, “Jack.” And that was the end of our conversation for the day.
You started talking to me more often after that, asking me what my favorite drink on the menu was (Vanilla Latte), why I worked at the café (to pay rent on my shitty apartment while in school), and if I liked school (does anyone?). You laughed at the last one, it sounded unused. Like there were gears with cobwebs suddenly being moved again after so long. It was a nice sound.
For the next few days, you continued to talk to me, sometimes I got you to laugh at my jokes, but most of the time, you just asked me questions.
“How old are you?” You asked, sipping from your cup.
“I’m 19…how old are you?” I asked, biting on my thumb.
You frowned and didn’t say anything for a second, “I’m uh, I’m 20.” You said, looking down.
Neither of us said anything for a while, after a few seconds of awkward silence I excused myself to help at the counter. You just nodded. I didn’t quite understand why, but the fact that you were twenty really bothered me. Maybe it was the idea that you were in the army, stationed in Iraq as you told me, and had done so much. But you were only twenty. Just a year older than me. And you had probably done so much more than I would ever do.
The next day, I apologized for what happened. You assured me that it was just fine, but only on one condition; that I would agree to go on a date with you. I was taken aback to say the least, but I agreed almost immediately. We promised to meet, that night at 7 pm, at the park down the street. I entered my phone number into your phone, and smiled as you walked quietly out of the cafe again.
That night was really one of the best in my life. We didn’t go to a fancy restaurant or anything like that. We just walked around downtown, stopped to get pretzels at a homemade pretzel shop, and you smiled a lot. You told me stories of when you were little and got lost downtown when your mom made you go shopping. You asked me about school, what my major was (music theory), and if I liked it. We talked for hours, and before we knew it, it was 12 am, and we had ended up outside my apartment.
“Do you want to come upstairs?” I asked, and I didn’t mean it like that. I just liked talking to you, really. And you seemed to know that.
“Yeah, I’d love to.” You smiled, lips tugging up on both sides. We walked quietly up the stairs, making it to my apartment and locking the door behind me.
“Do you want anything to drink?” I asked, mother-taught manners kicking in automatically.
“No, I’m fine.” And you smiled again, a sight I could honestly get used to. We sat on my couch and continued our conversation from before, about growing up in the city. It turns out, you had gone to my rival high school, and knew some of my friends. You were only a year older than me, so it shouldn’t have been that big of a surprise. At some point we had fallen asleep on my couch, your head on resting on my shoulder. I kissed your head, something I never told you.
From then on, we were inseparable. You came into the café every afternoon, sipping from the white ceramic mug, and smiling at me from over your book. We talked for hours about nothing, and you started to laugh more. Like the gears had finally reawakened and everything started running smoothly again. On the weekends, we would go out, taking our relationship slowly, but once we kissed, we couldn’t be stopped.
Things continued like this for two months, for two amazing months, I got to spend almost every day with you. But one day, you got a letter. Not that we weren’t expecting it, you were a solider, on leave only for a couple months. We hadn’t spoken about it seriously, only mentioned it in passing that you would have to go back. But the date was looming now, only three weeks away.
“How long will you be gone?” I asked, handing you your white cup. I sat down in the wooden chair across from you, eyes scanning the letter on the table.
You smiled sadly, “Six months, maybe more.” You said.
I looked down, “Oh.” I said softly. Neither of us said anything. A few moments later, I felt your arm around my shoulder, and I leaned my head into the crook of your neck. We sat like that for a while, neither of us saying anything, just sitting in each other’s company for as long as time would allow.
The day you were leaving, I met you at your house to go to the airport with your mom. You were wearing your uniform, the one you were wearing the first time I saw you, and you had just one duffel bag. We drove to the airport in complete silence, I held your hand tightly and I didn’t want to let go. The ride there was short, and when we got there your mother was kind enough to let us have a moment alone before you had to board your flight.
“I’m gonna miss you like crazy.” I said, hugging you close and tight.
“We can write letters, I gave you the address of my base, and we can video chat twice a week.” You said quietly, only to me. “I’m going to miss you so much.” You planted a kiss on my lips, and we hugged for another moment before you walked over to your mother and hugged her crying form. We waved goodbye as you walked toward your gate.
Pairing:Jack/Alex
Rating:PG-13
Summary: Jack is a soldier. Alex works in a cafe.
A/N: hi so this could be a standalone but idk i quite liked writing this so depending on interest i could write more ok
We met in a café. I was a waiter, you were a soldier, dressed in green camouflage, you looked tired and you were dragging a suitcase. It wasn’t that I had never seen a soldier; it was pretty common in a big city like Baltimore. You sat down in the back corner, and I watched as another waiter took your order, you didn’t smile, didn’t say anything to anyone, you were quiet. As soon as you finished your coffee, you placed a bill on the table, and thanked the waiter quietly as he told you that it would be on the house. You gave a ghost of a smile, collected your things and walked onto the sidewalk. It wasn’t raining, it wasn’t dramatic or special, you just turned around to look at the café again, and ended up looking directly at me. You still didn’t smile, just looked for a moment before turning and walking down the street.
I saw you again a few weeks later in the café; you came alone, but a woman, probably your girlfriend, came in, after I had taken your order, and sat down across from you. You didn’t wear your uniform this time, but the black jacket you were wearing looked too big for you. The woman kept smiling at you, but you remained stoic. You just sipped your black coffee, never smiling, never doing anything except occasionally saying something that made her frown. She left before you, tears streaming down her face. You didn’t seem affected, just continued to sip your coffee. I occasionally refilled your cup, and you would murmur a soft “thank you”.
After a few more days, you came back, sat in the back corner, sipped black coffee, sometimes you read a book, and plugged in some headphones. The titles differed, but most were old classics like “As I Lay Dying”, and “The Catcher in the Rye”. I walked over to refill your cup when I saw that you were finished.
“Have you read any of these?” You asked suddenly. I jumped a bit, almost dropping the coffee pot. You didn’t say anything.
“Oh, um, I read As I Lay Dying in high school. And the Catcher in the Rye is my favorite book, so yeah…” I said, standing over you awkwardly.
“Okay. Thank you for the coffee.” You went back to your book, and put your headphones back in your ears. I just nodded and went to return the coffee pot.
You became a regular in the café; you came in everyday, read your books, sipped your coffee, and left with a quiet thank you. I eventually learned your name, not that I asked, or you said, you just handed me a credit card. I read the words out to myself, “Jack Barakat.” It took me a minute to get your last name, but I got it. I smiled as I ran it through the machine. I handed you back the card, and smiled at you as you got up. You smiled back, just a small tug at the corners of your mouth, but it was there. It was nice, warm, and kind.
A few weeks later, you asked for my name. I was pouring you a fresh cup of coffee when you asked, “Hey, I feel like an ass, but um, what’s your name?”
I smiled, and said, “Alex,” and even though I already knew I asked, “What about you?”
You didn’t smile; just took a sip from your cup and said, “Jack.” And that was the end of our conversation for the day.
You started talking to me more often after that, asking me what my favorite drink on the menu was (Vanilla Latte), why I worked at the café (to pay rent on my shitty apartment while in school), and if I liked school (does anyone?). You laughed at the last one, it sounded unused. Like there were gears with cobwebs suddenly being moved again after so long. It was a nice sound.
For the next few days, you continued to talk to me, sometimes I got you to laugh at my jokes, but most of the time, you just asked me questions.
“How old are you?” You asked, sipping from your cup.
“I’m 19…how old are you?” I asked, biting on my thumb.
You frowned and didn’t say anything for a second, “I’m uh, I’m 20.” You said, looking down.
Neither of us said anything for a while, after a few seconds of awkward silence I excused myself to help at the counter. You just nodded. I didn’t quite understand why, but the fact that you were twenty really bothered me. Maybe it was the idea that you were in the army, stationed in Iraq as you told me, and had done so much. But you were only twenty. Just a year older than me. And you had probably done so much more than I would ever do.
The next day, I apologized for what happened. You assured me that it was just fine, but only on one condition; that I would agree to go on a date with you. I was taken aback to say the least, but I agreed almost immediately. We promised to meet, that night at 7 pm, at the park down the street. I entered my phone number into your phone, and smiled as you walked quietly out of the cafe again.
That night was really one of the best in my life. We didn’t go to a fancy restaurant or anything like that. We just walked around downtown, stopped to get pretzels at a homemade pretzel shop, and you smiled a lot. You told me stories of when you were little and got lost downtown when your mom made you go shopping. You asked me about school, what my major was (music theory), and if I liked it. We talked for hours, and before we knew it, it was 12 am, and we had ended up outside my apartment.
“Do you want to come upstairs?” I asked, and I didn’t mean it like that. I just liked talking to you, really. And you seemed to know that.
“Yeah, I’d love to.” You smiled, lips tugging up on both sides. We walked quietly up the stairs, making it to my apartment and locking the door behind me.
“Do you want anything to drink?” I asked, mother-taught manners kicking in automatically.
“No, I’m fine.” And you smiled again, a sight I could honestly get used to. We sat on my couch and continued our conversation from before, about growing up in the city. It turns out, you had gone to my rival high school, and knew some of my friends. You were only a year older than me, so it shouldn’t have been that big of a surprise. At some point we had fallen asleep on my couch, your head on resting on my shoulder. I kissed your head, something I never told you.
From then on, we were inseparable. You came into the café every afternoon, sipping from the white ceramic mug, and smiling at me from over your book. We talked for hours about nothing, and you started to laugh more. Like the gears had finally reawakened and everything started running smoothly again. On the weekends, we would go out, taking our relationship slowly, but once we kissed, we couldn’t be stopped.
Things continued like this for two months, for two amazing months, I got to spend almost every day with you. But one day, you got a letter. Not that we weren’t expecting it, you were a solider, on leave only for a couple months. We hadn’t spoken about it seriously, only mentioned it in passing that you would have to go back. But the date was looming now, only three weeks away.
“How long will you be gone?” I asked, handing you your white cup. I sat down in the wooden chair across from you, eyes scanning the letter on the table.
You smiled sadly, “Six months, maybe more.” You said.
I looked down, “Oh.” I said softly. Neither of us said anything. A few moments later, I felt your arm around my shoulder, and I leaned my head into the crook of your neck. We sat like that for a while, neither of us saying anything, just sitting in each other’s company for as long as time would allow.
The day you were leaving, I met you at your house to go to the airport with your mom. You were wearing your uniform, the one you were wearing the first time I saw you, and you had just one duffel bag. We drove to the airport in complete silence, I held your hand tightly and I didn’t want to let go. The ride there was short, and when we got there your mother was kind enough to let us have a moment alone before you had to board your flight.
“I’m gonna miss you like crazy.” I said, hugging you close and tight.
“We can write letters, I gave you the address of my base, and we can video chat twice a week.” You said quietly, only to me. “I’m going to miss you so much.” You planted a kiss on my lips, and we hugged for another moment before you walked over to your mother and hugged her crying form. We waved goodbye as you walked toward your gate.