Work Text:
It was surprising how much food found itself on restaurant floors.
“Well, maybe not but I sure hoped that people didn’t eat like this at home.” I thought to myself as I crouched underneath yet another table that held a discarded crayon and what looked like an entire pasta entree underneath it.
Kids skewed the curve I guess and this table had had three of them. “Restaurant not a daycare.” I chided the now long gone parents as the mess was transferred from floor to my tray. I stood and took a step back to maintain my balance and felt the unfamiliar weight of another person press into me.
“Watch it.” The stranger said gruffly as I stepped away, turning toward them.
“I’m sorry sir! Are you ok?” My customer service voice had never fully developed but I was usually genuinely sorry if I stepped into people. I barely caught the glare the stranger gave me as they continued to the table but I caught the look the hostess gave me, in an unspoken response to the guests behavior, one I immediately returned.
Asshole.
The exchange was already over but the brief encounter had chewed into my already sour mood, leaving me hoping I didn’t have any more encounters with that, or any other, guest before my patience fully checked out for the evening.
I finished wiping off the dirty table and called it ready, settling the dirty tray on my shoulder.
“Excuse me?” A voice called. My keen retail senses told me the words were meant for me so, turning to the voice, I saw the rude guest waving me to the table. Walking towards him I got a better look at the dark circles under his eyes but more importantly I recognized him.
“How can I help you sir?” I asked as a small swarm of emotions struggled with my waving customer service for control of my body.
“We’re on a time crunch. We need our server right away.” Annoyance made itself known among the other feelings of this encounter and quickly won out as the dominant emotion. Time crunch or not he’d been sat for less than a minute and the restaurant was full. Even the table I’d just cleaned was getting re-sat with its next group.
“Sure thing. I’ll go tell them.” I said with what, on the surface, passed for a smile. Turning away from him and rolling my eyes as soon as my back was turned. I gave the server my best pity face as we passed each other and as soon as the dishes were scraped I had a moment to think.
I had just met Shawn Mendes...and he was kind of a dick.
I felt the pressing need to share this event with my meager Instagram following so, sneaking a picture of the star from behind the wall hiding the server computer from the guests, I quickly posted it with the caption
-Just met #ShawnMendes #unimpressed #kindofadick #rude-
Sliding my phone into my pocket I began my search for dirty tables in need of cleaning. Despite our less than stellar meeting I tried to keep Shawn in my peripheral vision. Was it creepy? Probably. Did I care? Not really. The swarm of emotions had mostly calmed but buzzed insistently in the background of my thoughts and I reconciled myself that they wouldn’t leave until the pop-star did.
I made the mistake of passing too close to Shawn’s table and was immediately flagged down again.
“What can I do for you sir?” I said, I was hopeful his mood had improved now that he had gotten his coffee and...bar glass, uh oh.
“We need more coffee.” he said pushing the empty pot towards me. He downed what was left of his drink and pushed that at me, almost sliding it off the table. I grabbed the glass before it could enact a live action performance of my patience shattering on the floor. “And another drink.”
“Anything else I can get you?” I asked the rest of the table. The others at the table had the social graces to look apologetic which somewhat nullified my anger. They sheepishly asked for a few refills.
The server gave me a pleading look from another table and I sighed. No dumping the refills on her to bring back to the table. With three other tables her hands were too full to micromanage a tired, grumpy, singer.
I grabbed the refills and asked the bar to make another drink. Rather than wait for the already busy bar to finish the order I took the refills back to the table.
“The bar isn't quite finished with your drink sir.” I told Shawn, “I’ll be right back with it.” He scoffed under his breath and unsuccessfully hid it behind a sip of coffee. I stood still. My eyes wide and smile frozen for a few moments and the rest of the group took a breath to prepare for the coming conflict. The pop-star seemed oblivious to the tension and, after ingrained the personal fantasy of taking a razor to his brunette locks into my head, I let out a breath and turned from the table.
Once safely hidden from the view of guests I let out a low volume but steady stream of insults. I took out my phone again, snapping a picture of my best angry face, I left the caption.
-They say never meet your heroes. I’m expanding that to never meet anyone famous. Ever. #ShawnMendes #asshole #nopatience #chillpill-
The bar was now done with his drink and I resisted the urge to sabotage the liquid before I got to his table. I sat the drink down quickly and began to turn away. I made it half a step before I heard again behind me.
“Excuse me!” Damn it Mendes…
Shawn spent the rest of his time at the restaurant forcing me to divide my time between my actual job and taking care of him. His companions were nicer but seemed too eager to see if I would snap at the singer to step in on my behalf.
“Bill.” Shawn said as I put another set of refills at the table. His tone didn’t bother me so much anymore but his simple demand had an effect akin to ambrosia on my mood.
“Right away sir!” I said, smiling wide, and making a beeline for the server before the star could change his mind. “Get this asshole out of here.” I told the server in a murmur. She returned the sentiment and immediately began to print out the tables check. As I victoriously dropped off the check I noticed a worrisome green shade had begun to tint Shawn’s face.
“Sir,” I asked tentatively, “Are you ok?” He muttered something rude and waved me away. I made it all of five steps before I heard the telltale sound of someone emptying their stomach on the floor, dishes clattering as his companions jumped away.
I felt surprisingly nothing. My mood had gone so low it had come around to leave me in a placid calm devoid of emotion. I headed to the back to grab what I needed to clean up the mess. Under my breath I cursed,
“Damnit Mendes…”
Vomit. Cleaned. Shawn. Gone. Rush. Over. Instagram. Updated. I was sent home soon after the star had been ushered out by his extremely apologetic friends.
At least they had tipped well. I almost felt bad for him but when I got home I was too tired to put much thought in my ill fated brush with stardom. I fell into bed and sent a prayer to anything listening that tomorrow would be better.
I was awakened by the curious combination of my actual alarm and numerous phone notifications. Curious as to why I was suddenly getting so many notifications they were playing their own tune I turned off the alarm and saw dozens of little Instagram logos filling my notifications bar.
“What the fuck?” I said trying to focus through the haze of sleep to read what was happening. Apparently my meager following had grown over night with the reason being, perhaps unsurprisingly, my “shawncounter” as the messages were naming my disastrous night with the singer.
The DM’s and comments seemed to be almost evenly split between defenders of Shawn’s honor and Shawn haters. I blearily read a few comments but finally decided the situation would likely resolve itself. Besides, I had work in a couple of hours and I didn't have the time to waste reading through hundreds of posts.
I turned off Instagram's notification permissions and brushed my teeth. Instagram could wait. Managers were usually less patient.
“You have a guest up front who wants to talk to you.” A hostess had stopped me and said. Which was weird because no one wants to talk to me. With the notable exception of people who call me over I never talk to guests at all.
The mystery was quickly solved when I went up front and saw my less than stellar star encounter standing by the host stand. A small gaggle of guests and coworkers was slowly beginning to gather, the day shift obviously hadn’t been brought up to speed about last night, but Shawn Mendes was bearing the weight off their attention gracefully.
Shawn Mendes. He looked better in the morning light and the circles under his eyes had faded. If hair was an indicator for health his brunette curls indicated he was fully rested after last night and had had the chance to prune it with what I imagined was a dozen different hair products. When I was close enough to talk he smiled hesitantly, his eyes seemed to scan my face.
“Hey,” he said sticking out his hand, “I’m Shawn Mendes.” I looked at the proffered hand and shook it briefly before he pulled it away, he coughed. “I, uh, never introduced myself last night.”
“No you didn’t.” I said curtly, not entirely enthused to see him again no matter how good he looked, “But you did make it hard to forget you.” He looked down a mild pink coloring his face as he shuffled from foot to foot.
“Yeah,” He said looking back up at me with a tentative smile, “that's kind of why I’m here.” He began before sighing and scratching his cheek, “I was jet lagged and drinking and just...a real jerk, and I know that doesn't make it ok but I just wanted to say I’m sorry.” He sped up as he spoke so by the time he got to sorry he was rushing and out of breath.
This was a completely different Shawn to the guy I met last night. That Shawn was a grumpy, hot, and an asshole. This Shawn was shy, hot, and adorable.
“Apology accepted.” His smile widened giving me a perfect view of his dimples. The man had dimples. I couldn’t stay mad now that he had apologized and rather than risk staring at him I tied to steer the conversation, “but I’m surprised you remembered. You seemed pretty out of it.”
“I remember most of it.” He said, pulling out his phone. “You helped fill in the blanks.” before I could ask him what he meant he showed me his screen. My own traitorous Instagram account stared back at me. I felt my own face begin to color. How had he found my account? Was it his fans? His managers? My copious use of the Shawn Mendes hashtag?
“I feel like I should apologize now.” I said as he took the phone back, “I was...kind of rude.” My face was officially red and I looked away from Shawn to the suddenly very interesting wall.
“I deserved most of it.” Shawn said, drawing my attention back to him. “It’s also one of the funniest roasts I’ve ever read.” He looked at his phone screen.
“This guy is annoying,” He began reading, “He’d going to leave in #Stitches so I can find someone who will #Treatyoubetter. He leaves a bad #aftertaste and deserves a #BadReputation. If you meet him #Dontbeafool-”
“I get it,” I interrupted, “you can stop.” I may have gotten a little creative with my posts as the night wore on. He laughed and my face warmed further.
“I’m not here to get back at you.” He said with a smile. He held up his phone. “Can I get a photo to show everyone that were cool?” he asked.
“Uh, sure.” I said hesitantly. Was I supposed to pose or something? But then he came closer and threw an arm around my shoulder and raised his phone. I threw up a smile that I hoped didn’t look as panicked as I felt and I tried not to freak out.
He took the picture but didn’t pull back away. I stood as still as possible as he posted the picture with the caption. -Friends now.-
He tagged me and removed his arm and I let out a breath. He didn't move very far however and from this distance I could get a better look at his eyes, that is until they looked away from his phone and met mine. I tried to look away but I felt frozen. He coughed and looked away with a smile, his face blushing again. I did the same and for a few moments we stood there awkwardly before he broke the silence.
“Hey I know this might be a little sudden but would you. I mean. If you want to. Possibly want to get a coffee later?” He asked looking back at me. Shawn Mendes was asking me out. For a moment I was stuck before a ticklish warmth wormed its way into my chest.
“Alright.” He smiled and I was hooked.
Damnit Mendes.