fic: Kane RPS: Waiting to Exhale (1/1) -HAPPY BIRTHDAY ELE!
Title: Waiting To Exhale
Author: Havenward
Fandom: Kane RPS (waiter!au)
Pairing: Chris/Steve, Jensen/JDM (one sided implied)
Words: 3056
Rating: PG (mild language)
Note: For elebridith, for her birthday. I know, it's late, but I only realized her birthday was coming quite late, so. I hope you enjoy it darlin'! I was a little experimental on this one - it's all outsider POV. And actually, I was surprised by the people I had thought would show up as part of the wait staff that never quite got worked in. But anyway. We go back to the beginning on this one folks. You know me and my love of non-linearity... Thanks to greyrider for help with the title (which we totally stole from a movie).
Summary: Christian wants to see Steven again, but he never did get his number...
Jensen grins broadly as he greets the next group coming in. It’s small -just five people- but he’s been waiting for this reservation for a whole week. He’d taken it himself, and maybe, just maybe, had lied a little about their availability on the calendar in order to assure that they’d be here now. Right now, quite specifically, so that he could seat them in one particular section. After all, as his sister always said, he is a vengeful son of a bitch.
It’s just that this particular brand of revenge might possibly be the kindest thing he’s ever done for Steve. (Besides, it’s not as though Jensen wasn’t aware that Steve wasn’t solely responsible for locking him and Mr. Morgan in the closet. Otherwise he might have bumped this to a day Steve wasn’t working out of sheer spite.)
“Right this way, Mr. Kane,” he says, gesturing to the group as a whole to follow him. Jensen is a fan of Leverage, a big fan even, but he doesn’t say so. It wouldn’t be professional as maitre d’, for one thing (never mind that it’d be a horrible example for the waiters and busboys, and he’s got enough problems with Chad as it is), but mostly because things might get complicated enough with Steve being their waiter.
He takes their drink orders. It isn’t his duty but he has the feeling that they’ll need to be put in as quickly as possible. It could light a fire under Steve’s ass to know Kane and his friends are waiting and keep Steve from hiding in the kitchen. Well. Probably. At least, Steve will be less likely to stay in the kitchen, instead of doing his job.
Jensen crosses the room, checking on tables as he goes, until he finds himself standing just to the side of Steve as he settles plates in front of a glowing couple. He’s quite sure he’s going to propose, so he’ll have to keep an eye on them for it. Mr. Morgan likes to give complementary glasses of champaign for happy little occasions like that, and Jensen’s willing to bet that in the next five minutes Steve’s going to forget their table even exists. Steve stands back and turns, raising an eyebrow when he sees Jensen.
“You’ve got another table.” Jensen must look pretty smug, because Steve nods but doesn’t move. “I have their drink orders.” Steve narrows his eyes and Jensen makes an effort to put his impeccable host face on, settling one hand on Steve’s shoulder as he steers him in the direction of the table. He waits til they’re a little closer, enough that he’d be able to point the table out if he really needed to. He can see by Steve’s face he doesn’t need to. “Remember that one time with that thing? Consider us even.”
Steve is blushing. Blushing. Jensen wasn’t actually aware that it was possible for Steve to blush. Or to look that nervous. Or… to make that sound, like he’s swallowing a squeaker toy, before he turns on his heel and beelines for the kitchen.
Jared doesn't look up when Steve bustles into the kitchen, just flicks his eyes up and back down to the food he's preparing. It's a busy night, or busy enough, anyway, though he thinks they'll both be on break soon and maybe then he can pester the guy into cornering Jensen with the bossman again. Which, contrary to popular opinion, isn’t just because it’s a good laugh.
It's when he realizes that Steve's pacing that he looks up again. Pacing. And blushing. And… wringing his hands?
Jared sets his knife aside and scrubs his hands on a towel, watching him for just a moment. “What happened?”
“What?” Steve pauses, though he scrubs a hand over his face like he might be dreaming. Jared just stares at him, then raises one eyebrow. “Nothing. Nothing happened. Yet.”
“Yet?” Jared’s tempted to smack him, because he doesn’t answer. Thankfully at that moment Jensen decides to follow him in.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Jensen asks, but it’s in that tone that means he knows exactly what’s going on. Tricky bastard.
“That’s what I’ve been-”
Jensen just lifts a finger in Jared’s direction but doesn’t look at him. “Stay out of it Padalecki. You’ll probably have to remind him that table thirty-three will need dessert, and that he’s going to propose. Never mind that table twenty-five will need appetizers.” He glances at Jared. “Make sure he doesn’t hide back here.” He looks back at Steve, puts a hand on his shoulder. “You have drink orders.” Steve opens his mouth. “No, I’m not putting someone else on the table. It’s your table.” Steve’s mouth closes, and he flushes impossibly darker. Jensen sighs. “You’ll be fine.”
Beth fiddles with the corner of her napkin and watches Christian. Aldis is talking, telling some story about something Frakes did on set. She’s sure it’s funny -Aldis usually is and generally Frakes is one of the best directors she’s worked with in tv, not to mention the way Gina keeps giggling. The thing is, Christian keeps making these faces when he thinks no one’s looking. Like he’s looking around without looking.
And she’s not the only one to notice. Tim keeps tipping his head just so, watching without watching…
Suddenly she’s never been so glad to have met Apollo Robbins. She lets her thoughts trip over the day, over recent conversations. Back to when Christian made the reservations. He’d been almost shy about it, though he should have known by then no one was going to say no to him. She’d found it endearing at the time. And now…
Now they’re in a restaurant, and Christian is waiting for something. She tries to track what he’s watching. It takes a few moments, but then she gets it. People. No, more specific… Waiters. He’s watching the waiters. Why would he…
“Oh!” The table stops to look at her, Christian’s cheeks turning just a little red. If she didn’t know better, she’d think Tim looked disappointed she’d figured things out first. “Er, sorry. Cate told me this riddle earlier while we were waiting for reset and I think I just figured it out.”
“Right,” Aldis says, almost like Hardison talking to Parker, drawing out the word in a sarcastic blend of disbelief and annoyance. “Anyway.”
Aldis picks up where he left off, but now Christian knows she knows. And apparently knows that Tim is onto him, that Tim isn’t far behind. The blush is creeping up farther in Christian’s cheeks, and when he talks, it’s all too fast.
Someone clears their throat politely just over Beth’s shoulder, and she looks up at the underside of a tray of drinks held up by one very well formed hand. “Good evening,” he says. His voice is almost musical, though Beth is just close enough to hear the way it trembles just a little with forced confidence. “My name is Steven, I’ll be your server this evening. Who, ah. Who had the Madeira apertif?”
Steven. That had definitely been the name Christian had brought up after the competition he judged. She’d thought it was cute how interested he’d obviously been, since he always talked about the guy in second place, and but barely mentioned whoever it was that had actually won. As Steven half circles the table, handing out drinks, she watches him, weighs him. He’s cute -not her type but that’s beside the point. There’s something about him, like he ought to be an artist or a musician, not a waiter, though chef would undoubtedly do. Pretty eyes, and a prettier smile, though she wishes she could see him with his hair down and framing his face instead of in a tight little ponytail.
He’s blushing hard, but his hands don’t shake. He’s also doing everything he can not to look at Christian. When he does, as he takes their orders, he swallows hard. Beth glances over at Christian in time to catch him watching, to see the way he licks his lips. To see how disappointed he is when Steven leaves quickly to put their orders in.
“He’s cute,” she says without preamble.
Christian frowns, still staring after Steven. “Sure,” he says softly, then shakes his head and pushes up from the table, heading toward the restrooms. Beth and Tim barely share a look before Tim’s following after.
Tim sighs, and reminds himself he doesn't actually need to run to catch up with Christian. He's obviously headed to the bathrooms, would have turned by now if he wanted the bar. Or the other way, if he was going to try to leave. The man doesn't seem to realize he's being followed, though.
Of course, the way he slams the swinging door open wouldn't leave room for doubt for half the restaurant.
Tim enters the bathroom much more gently. Christian's got both hands on the counter, head hanging so his face is hidden by his hair even in his own reflection. He doesn't look up, but Tim can tell from the way his shoulders tense up that he knows Tim's there. Tim leans casually against the wall and waits. The only other person there --at least, judging by which stall doors are open or shut-- flushes and steps out. The guy glances at both of them, mumbles about hand sanitizer, and leaves.
"This was a stupid idea," Christian says at last. There's none of that presence --muchness, Milo called it-- that he usually exudes. "I don't know what I was thinking."
Tim waits a moment. Kane's the type to shoot from the hip, but only when he's sure of himself. But it's clear he hasn't got anything else to say. Or that he's even going to move.
"Do you mean the part where you ambushed him at work, where he's supposed to be professional and he could well embarrass himself in front of your friends and his co-workers?" Tim asks, not unkindly. Christian's shoulders sag a little, and he nods. "Or the part where you liked him so much that you'd find him any way that you could? I seem to remember you saying you didn't want to give him your number at the contest because of how it would look." Tim lets it sink in before strolling to the sinks, leaning his hip against the counter. "He's still interested y'know."
That gets Christian to look up at him. "An' how could y'tell? Seemed to me he couldn't get away fast enough."
Part of Tim really thinks Christian should know better by now than to ask a question like that. Being on Leverage has changed the way all of them look at the world in little ways, and Tim was always a fan of people watching to begin with. "The way he looked at you, for one thing. He tried not to, it's true, but when he did, it was like he was looking at the sun. The way he put down your glass, his fingers lingered, and he glanced at you again..." Christian is looking at him like he's crazy. "I can go on?"
Christian watches his face, looking for even a glimpse of a joke, of the slightest falsehood. Tim's steady confidence wins out though. Christian sighs, but he stands straight, arms crossed, and he's biting his lip again when he looks away. "What the hell'm I supposed to do?"
"Well," Tim says, weighs the options. "Give him as much space as you can. And then give him your phone number."
The guys are still in the bathroom when Steve comes back with the appetizer and more bread. Beth feels bad for him, a little. The first thing he notices is Christian's empty chair, and his face falls. It's just for a second, a long moment where his face flushes with disappointment. But then he squares his shoulders, becomes the impeccable waiter again.
Beth can see it in his eyes though. Can nearly hear his thoughts as they trip through his brain, despite the pleasantries of his conversation.
"It really is an earthy wine, very elegant," he says with his mouth, giving Gina a charming smile. But he's thinking, should have known better than to hope. He sets a plate in front of her for the appetizer, his eyes flicking over to Christian's empty seat one last time before leaving.
"Don't worry about him," Beth says, grinning widely and settling a hand on his arm. Steven looks down at her and blinks. She tips her head, gives him a look that she hopes he can interpret. "He'll be back soon."
Steve just stares at her for a moment, half a heartbeat really. "No problem," he says. But he's got this shy little smile, so Beth lets him go.
Jared's just going on break when someone pushes through the door into the kitchen that doesn't belong there. He can’t say he’s surprised. Days like this there’s plenty of customers that get themselves turned around trying to find the rest rooms. Granted, usually it’s a lot later when people tend to have a little more liquor, and mostly a waiter or Jensen’s caught them by now and sent them in the right direction.
“Can I help you?” he asks, slouching a little on account of his height and this guy being so short. He turns and looks up (and up) at Jared, brows knitting together like he’s contemplating whether or not Jared’s a threat. “Bathrooms are back the other way, past the…”
“No, no. I’m, uh, lookin’ for someone,” he says. “He’s, um. He’s a waiter. Steve? Steve Carlson?”
“He’s on a smoke break,” Jared says. He tips his head for a moment, and then things click. “You wouldn’t happen to be Kane, wouldja?” The guy’s mouth opens and closes for a second, like he’s not sure how he wants to answer the question or what Jared wants exactly, but he kinda flushes a little and that’s all the proof Jared needs. It makes Jared grin, cos he can totally see why Steve likes him. “We’re not technically supposed to do this, but I’ll show you where he’s at.”
Kane’s eyes light up. “Yeah? Thanks man. That’d be great.”
Jared leads him back through the kitchen, waving off Chad when he starts making a snide comment. Kid’s got tables to bus anyway. And then they’re at the back door. The thing’s heavy, and it sticks, so they’ve got a wedge of wood propping it open just enough. Jared pushes it open with his hip easily, catching the edge in one large hand and using it to leverage himself halfway out the doorway.
Steve’s leaning against the wall, right where Jared knew he’d be. He gives Jared a confused look as he takes a drag. It’s when Jared just beams at him that Steve gets suspicious, but god knows it’s already too late by the time Steve pushes away from the wall.
“Here he is,” Jared says cheerfully, and lets Kane through. After that, Jared might as well not exist, the way they look at each other. He waits til Kane moves forward a little and then takes a step back, letting the door shut.
Or, well. Mostly shut. He barely debates it before he leans forward, just enough to see through the sliver of light, just enough to try and hear them. He can make out Steve’s face, can see him dropping the cigarette and stepping on it, but Kane stays where he is and Jared can’t see more than that he’s shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Hey, hi. Um. Chri-Mister…” Steve’s blushing again, making a face like he’s torn between hoping and worrying about whether Kane came looking for him just to get a blow job. Which’d be ridiculous, but Jared wouldn’t put it past Steve. The guy has issues, and Jared’s of half a mind to go slap somebody for them just on principle.
“Christian,” Kane says. Jared thinks he can hear a smile in his voice.
“Christian,” Steve says. He smiles a little, a dopey, happy little smile. “What, ah. Can I…”
“Wanted to apologize,” Kane says, and he’s all confidence now as he takes another step forward. “For…” He gestures back toward the restaurant. “Y’know. Just showin’ up. Wasn’t my intention t’make you feel uncomfortable.” Steve just kinda nods, too taken with watching Kane’s face (his mouth, if anyone pushed Jared to guess) to do much of anything else. “But I also wanted to give you this.”
Kane pulls something out of his pocket -a paper napkin, maybe- and holds it out. Steve looks down at it uncertainly, then smiles a little more as he takes it. Says something that Jared can’t hear.
“We kept dancing around it,” Kane says. Jared has to strain to hear them now. “After what Chiarello said and all. Never occurred to me til after that it also meant I’d have a hard time findin’ you. I came tonight lookin’ to rectify that, if I could.” Steve is outright beaming now. “Can’t say you look too upset about it. Hopin’ that means you’ll call me? Tonight, none of that three days bullshit…”
Steve laughs, possibly the happiest sound Jared’s ever heard him make. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll call you soon as I get off work.”
“Good,” Kane says. He hesitates a moment, then closes the space between them, leaning up and into Steve to brush their lips together.
Which is precisely the moment Jared leans back. Steve can’t use a cigarette break as an excuse for much longer, and Kane’s got his friends back at the table, and technically Jared is supposed to be eating. He turns to go and nearly slams into Jensen.
“Just what are you doing over here exactly?” Jensen asks. But he’s using that voice again, so Jared figures he’s not actually in trouble.
“Oh, y’know. The usual.” He steps around Jensen, putting his hands in his pockets and whistling his way to the break room. He can hear Jensen chuckle behind him as he heads out of the kitchen.
“I love it when a plan comes together…”
Author: Havenward
Fandom: Kane RPS (waiter!au)
Pairing: Chris/Steve, Jensen/JDM (one sided implied)
Words: 3056
Rating: PG (mild language)
Note: For elebridith, for her birthday. I know, it's late, but I only realized her birthday was coming quite late, so. I hope you enjoy it darlin'! I was a little experimental on this one - it's all outsider POV. And actually, I was surprised by the people I had thought would show up as part of the wait staff that never quite got worked in. But anyway. We go back to the beginning on this one folks. You know me and my love of non-linearity... Thanks to greyrider for help with the title (which we totally stole from a movie).
Summary: Christian wants to see Steven again, but he never did get his number...
Jensen grins broadly as he greets the next group coming in. It’s small -just five people- but he’s been waiting for this reservation for a whole week. He’d taken it himself, and maybe, just maybe, had lied a little about their availability on the calendar in order to assure that they’d be here now. Right now, quite specifically, so that he could seat them in one particular section. After all, as his sister always said, he is a vengeful son of a bitch.
It’s just that this particular brand of revenge might possibly be the kindest thing he’s ever done for Steve. (Besides, it’s not as though Jensen wasn’t aware that Steve wasn’t solely responsible for locking him and Mr. Morgan in the closet. Otherwise he might have bumped this to a day Steve wasn’t working out of sheer spite.)
“Right this way, Mr. Kane,” he says, gesturing to the group as a whole to follow him. Jensen is a fan of Leverage, a big fan even, but he doesn’t say so. It wouldn’t be professional as maitre d’, for one thing (never mind that it’d be a horrible example for the waiters and busboys, and he’s got enough problems with Chad as it is), but mostly because things might get complicated enough with Steve being their waiter.
He takes their drink orders. It isn’t his duty but he has the feeling that they’ll need to be put in as quickly as possible. It could light a fire under Steve’s ass to know Kane and his friends are waiting and keep Steve from hiding in the kitchen. Well. Probably. At least, Steve will be less likely to stay in the kitchen, instead of doing his job.
Jensen crosses the room, checking on tables as he goes, until he finds himself standing just to the side of Steve as he settles plates in front of a glowing couple. He’s quite sure he’s going to propose, so he’ll have to keep an eye on them for it. Mr. Morgan likes to give complementary glasses of champaign for happy little occasions like that, and Jensen’s willing to bet that in the next five minutes Steve’s going to forget their table even exists. Steve stands back and turns, raising an eyebrow when he sees Jensen.
“You’ve got another table.” Jensen must look pretty smug, because Steve nods but doesn’t move. “I have their drink orders.” Steve narrows his eyes and Jensen makes an effort to put his impeccable host face on, settling one hand on Steve’s shoulder as he steers him in the direction of the table. He waits til they’re a little closer, enough that he’d be able to point the table out if he really needed to. He can see by Steve’s face he doesn’t need to. “Remember that one time with that thing? Consider us even.”
Steve is blushing. Blushing. Jensen wasn’t actually aware that it was possible for Steve to blush. Or to look that nervous. Or… to make that sound, like he’s swallowing a squeaker toy, before he turns on his heel and beelines for the kitchen.
Jared doesn't look up when Steve bustles into the kitchen, just flicks his eyes up and back down to the food he's preparing. It's a busy night, or busy enough, anyway, though he thinks they'll both be on break soon and maybe then he can pester the guy into cornering Jensen with the bossman again. Which, contrary to popular opinion, isn’t just because it’s a good laugh.
It's when he realizes that Steve's pacing that he looks up again. Pacing. And blushing. And… wringing his hands?
Jared sets his knife aside and scrubs his hands on a towel, watching him for just a moment. “What happened?”
“What?” Steve pauses, though he scrubs a hand over his face like he might be dreaming. Jared just stares at him, then raises one eyebrow. “Nothing. Nothing happened. Yet.”
“Yet?” Jared’s tempted to smack him, because he doesn’t answer. Thankfully at that moment Jensen decides to follow him in.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Jensen asks, but it’s in that tone that means he knows exactly what’s going on. Tricky bastard.
“That’s what I’ve been-”
Jensen just lifts a finger in Jared’s direction but doesn’t look at him. “Stay out of it Padalecki. You’ll probably have to remind him that table thirty-three will need dessert, and that he’s going to propose. Never mind that table twenty-five will need appetizers.” He glances at Jared. “Make sure he doesn’t hide back here.” He looks back at Steve, puts a hand on his shoulder. “You have drink orders.” Steve opens his mouth. “No, I’m not putting someone else on the table. It’s your table.” Steve’s mouth closes, and he flushes impossibly darker. Jensen sighs. “You’ll be fine.”
Beth fiddles with the corner of her napkin and watches Christian. Aldis is talking, telling some story about something Frakes did on set. She’s sure it’s funny -Aldis usually is and generally Frakes is one of the best directors she’s worked with in tv, not to mention the way Gina keeps giggling. The thing is, Christian keeps making these faces when he thinks no one’s looking. Like he’s looking around without looking.
And she’s not the only one to notice. Tim keeps tipping his head just so, watching without watching…
Suddenly she’s never been so glad to have met Apollo Robbins. She lets her thoughts trip over the day, over recent conversations. Back to when Christian made the reservations. He’d been almost shy about it, though he should have known by then no one was going to say no to him. She’d found it endearing at the time. And now…
Now they’re in a restaurant, and Christian is waiting for something. She tries to track what he’s watching. It takes a few moments, but then she gets it. People. No, more specific… Waiters. He’s watching the waiters. Why would he…
“Oh!” The table stops to look at her, Christian’s cheeks turning just a little red. If she didn’t know better, she’d think Tim looked disappointed she’d figured things out first. “Er, sorry. Cate told me this riddle earlier while we were waiting for reset and I think I just figured it out.”
“Right,” Aldis says, almost like Hardison talking to Parker, drawing out the word in a sarcastic blend of disbelief and annoyance. “Anyway.”
Aldis picks up where he left off, but now Christian knows she knows. And apparently knows that Tim is onto him, that Tim isn’t far behind. The blush is creeping up farther in Christian’s cheeks, and when he talks, it’s all too fast.
Someone clears their throat politely just over Beth’s shoulder, and she looks up at the underside of a tray of drinks held up by one very well formed hand. “Good evening,” he says. His voice is almost musical, though Beth is just close enough to hear the way it trembles just a little with forced confidence. “My name is Steven, I’ll be your server this evening. Who, ah. Who had the Madeira apertif?”
Steven. That had definitely been the name Christian had brought up after the competition he judged. She’d thought it was cute how interested he’d obviously been, since he always talked about the guy in second place, and but barely mentioned whoever it was that had actually won. As Steven half circles the table, handing out drinks, she watches him, weighs him. He’s cute -not her type but that’s beside the point. There’s something about him, like he ought to be an artist or a musician, not a waiter, though chef would undoubtedly do. Pretty eyes, and a prettier smile, though she wishes she could see him with his hair down and framing his face instead of in a tight little ponytail.
He’s blushing hard, but his hands don’t shake. He’s also doing everything he can not to look at Christian. When he does, as he takes their orders, he swallows hard. Beth glances over at Christian in time to catch him watching, to see the way he licks his lips. To see how disappointed he is when Steven leaves quickly to put their orders in.
“He’s cute,” she says without preamble.
Christian frowns, still staring after Steven. “Sure,” he says softly, then shakes his head and pushes up from the table, heading toward the restrooms. Beth and Tim barely share a look before Tim’s following after.
Tim sighs, and reminds himself he doesn't actually need to run to catch up with Christian. He's obviously headed to the bathrooms, would have turned by now if he wanted the bar. Or the other way, if he was going to try to leave. The man doesn't seem to realize he's being followed, though.
Of course, the way he slams the swinging door open wouldn't leave room for doubt for half the restaurant.
Tim enters the bathroom much more gently. Christian's got both hands on the counter, head hanging so his face is hidden by his hair even in his own reflection. He doesn't look up, but Tim can tell from the way his shoulders tense up that he knows Tim's there. Tim leans casually against the wall and waits. The only other person there --at least, judging by which stall doors are open or shut-- flushes and steps out. The guy glances at both of them, mumbles about hand sanitizer, and leaves.
"This was a stupid idea," Christian says at last. There's none of that presence --muchness, Milo called it-- that he usually exudes. "I don't know what I was thinking."
Tim waits a moment. Kane's the type to shoot from the hip, but only when he's sure of himself. But it's clear he hasn't got anything else to say. Or that he's even going to move.
"Do you mean the part where you ambushed him at work, where he's supposed to be professional and he could well embarrass himself in front of your friends and his co-workers?" Tim asks, not unkindly. Christian's shoulders sag a little, and he nods. "Or the part where you liked him so much that you'd find him any way that you could? I seem to remember you saying you didn't want to give him your number at the contest because of how it would look." Tim lets it sink in before strolling to the sinks, leaning his hip against the counter. "He's still interested y'know."
That gets Christian to look up at him. "An' how could y'tell? Seemed to me he couldn't get away fast enough."
Part of Tim really thinks Christian should know better by now than to ask a question like that. Being on Leverage has changed the way all of them look at the world in little ways, and Tim was always a fan of people watching to begin with. "The way he looked at you, for one thing. He tried not to, it's true, but when he did, it was like he was looking at the sun. The way he put down your glass, his fingers lingered, and he glanced at you again..." Christian is looking at him like he's crazy. "I can go on?"
Christian watches his face, looking for even a glimpse of a joke, of the slightest falsehood. Tim's steady confidence wins out though. Christian sighs, but he stands straight, arms crossed, and he's biting his lip again when he looks away. "What the hell'm I supposed to do?"
"Well," Tim says, weighs the options. "Give him as much space as you can. And then give him your phone number."
The guys are still in the bathroom when Steve comes back with the appetizer and more bread. Beth feels bad for him, a little. The first thing he notices is Christian's empty chair, and his face falls. It's just for a second, a long moment where his face flushes with disappointment. But then he squares his shoulders, becomes the impeccable waiter again.
Beth can see it in his eyes though. Can nearly hear his thoughts as they trip through his brain, despite the pleasantries of his conversation.
"It really is an earthy wine, very elegant," he says with his mouth, giving Gina a charming smile. But he's thinking, should have known better than to hope. He sets a plate in front of her for the appetizer, his eyes flicking over to Christian's empty seat one last time before leaving.
"Don't worry about him," Beth says, grinning widely and settling a hand on his arm. Steven looks down at her and blinks. She tips her head, gives him a look that she hopes he can interpret. "He'll be back soon."
Steve just stares at her for a moment, half a heartbeat really. "No problem," he says. But he's got this shy little smile, so Beth lets him go.
Jared's just going on break when someone pushes through the door into the kitchen that doesn't belong there. He can’t say he’s surprised. Days like this there’s plenty of customers that get themselves turned around trying to find the rest rooms. Granted, usually it’s a lot later when people tend to have a little more liquor, and mostly a waiter or Jensen’s caught them by now and sent them in the right direction.
“Can I help you?” he asks, slouching a little on account of his height and this guy being so short. He turns and looks up (and up) at Jared, brows knitting together like he’s contemplating whether or not Jared’s a threat. “Bathrooms are back the other way, past the…”
“No, no. I’m, uh, lookin’ for someone,” he says. “He’s, um. He’s a waiter. Steve? Steve Carlson?”
“He’s on a smoke break,” Jared says. He tips his head for a moment, and then things click. “You wouldn’t happen to be Kane, wouldja?” The guy’s mouth opens and closes for a second, like he’s not sure how he wants to answer the question or what Jared wants exactly, but he kinda flushes a little and that’s all the proof Jared needs. It makes Jared grin, cos he can totally see why Steve likes him. “We’re not technically supposed to do this, but I’ll show you where he’s at.”
Kane’s eyes light up. “Yeah? Thanks man. That’d be great.”
Jared leads him back through the kitchen, waving off Chad when he starts making a snide comment. Kid’s got tables to bus anyway. And then they’re at the back door. The thing’s heavy, and it sticks, so they’ve got a wedge of wood propping it open just enough. Jared pushes it open with his hip easily, catching the edge in one large hand and using it to leverage himself halfway out the doorway.
Steve’s leaning against the wall, right where Jared knew he’d be. He gives Jared a confused look as he takes a drag. It’s when Jared just beams at him that Steve gets suspicious, but god knows it’s already too late by the time Steve pushes away from the wall.
“Here he is,” Jared says cheerfully, and lets Kane through. After that, Jared might as well not exist, the way they look at each other. He waits til Kane moves forward a little and then takes a step back, letting the door shut.
Or, well. Mostly shut. He barely debates it before he leans forward, just enough to see through the sliver of light, just enough to try and hear them. He can make out Steve’s face, can see him dropping the cigarette and stepping on it, but Kane stays where he is and Jared can’t see more than that he’s shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Hey, hi. Um. Chri-Mister…” Steve’s blushing again, making a face like he’s torn between hoping and worrying about whether Kane came looking for him just to get a blow job. Which’d be ridiculous, but Jared wouldn’t put it past Steve. The guy has issues, and Jared’s of half a mind to go slap somebody for them just on principle.
“Christian,” Kane says. Jared thinks he can hear a smile in his voice.
“Christian,” Steve says. He smiles a little, a dopey, happy little smile. “What, ah. Can I…”
“Wanted to apologize,” Kane says, and he’s all confidence now as he takes another step forward. “For…” He gestures back toward the restaurant. “Y’know. Just showin’ up. Wasn’t my intention t’make you feel uncomfortable.” Steve just kinda nods, too taken with watching Kane’s face (his mouth, if anyone pushed Jared to guess) to do much of anything else. “But I also wanted to give you this.”
Kane pulls something out of his pocket -a paper napkin, maybe- and holds it out. Steve looks down at it uncertainly, then smiles a little more as he takes it. Says something that Jared can’t hear.
“We kept dancing around it,” Kane says. Jared has to strain to hear them now. “After what Chiarello said and all. Never occurred to me til after that it also meant I’d have a hard time findin’ you. I came tonight lookin’ to rectify that, if I could.” Steve is outright beaming now. “Can’t say you look too upset about it. Hopin’ that means you’ll call me? Tonight, none of that three days bullshit…”
Steve laughs, possibly the happiest sound Jared’s ever heard him make. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll call you soon as I get off work.”
“Good,” Kane says. He hesitates a moment, then closes the space between them, leaning up and into Steve to brush their lips together.
Which is precisely the moment Jared leans back. Steve can’t use a cigarette break as an excuse for much longer, and Kane’s got his friends back at the table, and technically Jared is supposed to be eating. He turns to go and nearly slams into Jensen.
“Just what are you doing over here exactly?” Jensen asks. But he’s using that voice again, so Jared figures he’s not actually in trouble.
“Oh, y’know. The usual.” He steps around Jensen, putting his hands in his pockets and whistling his way to the break room. He can hear Jensen chuckle behind him as he heads out of the kitchen.
“I love it when a plan comes together…”