hiding place | John Mulaney/Reader

butterflies before breakfast

Sunlight beamed through your window, straight onto your closed eyes. You felt its warmth in moments, unable to keep yourself asleep any longer. You opened your eyes as your senses slowly awoke. Your eyesight allowed you to drink in the light walls of your room, your teal comforter, the pale, new day outside and the red bricks of the building across the street. Your silk pajama pants had ridden up over your calves, so you pushed the sheets down to fix them, and, soon, your feet were touching the cold floor.

Your kitchen, lifeless after being untouched the entire night, soon filled with the smell of fresh coffee. Moments to just stand in front of the window and sip from your cup had grown so scarce, so you took advantage of it. You watched the cars, bikes and pedestrians below milling about. Soon, just as you expected, your shred of silence was interrupted. Your phone was buzzing. If you ignored it, they would just call back. With a sigh, you marched back into your room and grabbed your phone off of the nightstand, expecting to see work or Spam Call, but it wasn't either of those. John. Delighted and intrigued, you cleared your throat and answered.
"John?" You chirp. The other end sounded like white noise, until he spoke. "Hey," He started. "I'm sorry, did I wake you up?" You shake your head, forgetting he can't see you. "No, I've been awake, what's up?" You sit on the foot of your bed, yawning as quietly as you could. "Oh, well, I'm in the city." You furrow your brow as he continues. "I thought I'd call you and see if you were free." "Free for..?" You prompt. John wasn't supposed to be back in the city for another month or so, working on some new project you knew nothing about. "Coffee?" He clearly didn't have a game plan. You look begrudgingly at your closet, already trying to figure out what to wear. "Okay, coffee."

You walked to this local shop with a French name, since he told you to just pick a place. He sounded off, but maybe it was just because you were confused as to why he was back in New York in the first place. Upon opening the coffee shop's single door, you spotted him fairly quickly. For one, it was eight in the morning, and quite empty. Two, John was the tallest person seated at a table.
As you approached the booth, his head perked up, and his smile soon infected you. He stood, opening his arms for a hug you couldn't resist. "Hey," You purr, as if he'd squeezed it out of you. Either the cold was getting to you more than usual, or he was comfortingly warm. "What are you doing here?" You look up at him after you separate, brow knotted in confusion as you take seats across from one another. The brunet laced his fingers together and sighed, the corners of his mouth still lilted. "Change in plans," He huffs. "I wanted to come back for a while, catch my breath." You're a bad liar, Mulaney, you think, pouring yourself some fresh, black coffee from the metal pot on the table. "Did you change these plans, or did someone else?" Suddenly, he grins. "Since when did you ask so many questions?" His eyes narrowed just slightly when he spoke. Shaking your head, you watch the steam float up from the dark surface of your coffee. He sipped his own.

"Anything new with you? Are you still editing for that- what is it, magazine?" "Close, newsletter." "Ah, newsletter. Well, are you?" You remembered how nice it was to listen to his voice. It had been almost two months since you'd spoken to him- not even over the phone, you only texted- and you'd almost forgotten how different his actual tone was from the voice he used onstage. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't watched New In Town since you had seen him last. "I am," Your answer comes with a lifted, unsure tone. "But I don't know how much longer I wanna stay." For a moment, he simply looks at you, but you can almost see the gears turning behind those deep blues. "What?" You chirp, folding your arms. "Nothing," John shrugs. "How far's the park from here? Four blocks?" You nod. "About that far, yeah." Suddenly, he stood, fixing his jacket. "We should go walk." You furrow your brow, but follow suit in standing regardless, watching him lay a five dollar bill on the table. Something about the look in his eye told you not to try and get a word in, because you wouldn't be able to.

As you walked, keeping to the far side of the path in case of joggers, you looked up at the trees. "You're never spontaneous," You say out of the blue of an unrelated conversation. "What's gotten into you?" Mulaney cards his fingers through his hair. "Wanting to go on a walk is spontaneous?" Turning your eyes up to him, you notice he was looking at you, first. His expression is still questioning you.

It was different than any look you'd ever seen in his eye. You felt confused and intrigued, and felt butterflies in your stomach all at once. It wasn't news to you that you thought he was good looking since New Year's Eve, or that you thought about him sometimes when you were alone, but you felt like a deer in headlights. Was this spontaneity flirting? No, I can't just ask him that. Can I? Turning to the path ahead, you saw that the two of you would be under a bridge soon. It was less than fifty degrees out, yet your hands felt sweaty.
When the shade from the bridge was cast over you, you stopped in your tracks. After a moment, you faced John, who was confused. "You know, I-" You start, wetting your lips and gathering the courage to look up at him, only to find yourself a little closer to him. I can't. You clear your throat. "I think I'm going to quit my job."  You blurt. Unexpectedly, John gave a short laugh. "Okay." He chuckles. You begin to smile, but just out of the sheer awkwardness. "What?" He sticks his hands in his pockets, looking down at you. "You had to stop walking to tell me you're quitting? I mean, thank you for telling me, but.." You bat his arm playfully. "Am I wrong, or didn't it take you forever to quit your last job?" You tease, only to earn an, albeit soft, punch in return. "We're not talking about me!" You start laughing for real, stumbling a bit as you walked and listening to him chuckling with you. Each time he giggled, or every time you watched him scrunch his nose a bit as he laughed, you felt the butterflies in your stomach multiply. Oh, this is going to hurt, you say to yourself.