A/N: listen before you say anything i found this in my notes app from 2019 and i decided to start working on it again
{Grinch's POV}
I stand behind the pristine black counter wearing the rich green apron of a Starbucks employee. I hand the girl in front of me her change alongside the pumpkin spice latte she'd ordered. "Thanks," i mutter as she drops 10 cents into my tip jar. The day had droned on as empty and unimportant as any other, serving customer after customer with the same monotonous pattern. I hated it, but it wasn't like i could make much money at the moment off of what i really wanted to do—acting. It had been a lifelong dream of mine, and ever since I'd stepped onto the grimy stage at my old middle school, i knew i was destined to perform.
And yet here i was, two and a half years into this job, and I'd only gotten one of the roles I'd auditioned for over the years.
I hated everything about my life. I had no real friends, a shitty job, and I'd left my family behind when i moved to LA. The only hope i could see was so small and slim, sometimes i could barely even tell it was there at all.
Until everything changed.
"Welcome to Starbucks. What can i get you today?" I ask, not looking up from the register.
"I'll take a pinkity drinkity," a deep voice growls. It winds its way into my ears and through my brain, making my legs go weak before I even look at him.
But when i do.
Oh, when i flick my eyes up to glance at him and see his muscular orange torso towering above me, and his orange fur seems to glimmer at me as if it has mind of its own—
"Hello?"
That deep rumbling voice brings me back from the same train of thought it set me on with a jolt. "You okay, Pistachio Boy? It looks like you spaced out a little," he says, a hint of amusement threatening to flood into his voice. I bristle slightly at the words Pistachio Boy, but i decide to assume he meant it endearingly and not as an insult.
"Yeah, sorry, i just, i just...um...i need your name for the drink," i stutter, my face flushing beneath my green fur. I'm more thankful than ever that he can't see it.
But he's looking at me like he knows just what he's doing to me.
"Tony," is all he says, resting one huge orange forearm on the counter and leaning forward.
I whirl around so that i don't have to look at him and busy myself with the drink.
This is crazy, i think to myself. I've exchanged a total of 34 words with him, but i feel such a strong connection with him. What's happening to me? I wonder, suddenly acutely aware of the warmness in my cheeks and the even warmer heat in my—
I turn back around, pushing the thought from my head, only to find that the Greek god of a tiger i just met is already looking at me. "One pink drink for Tony," is all i can say as i avert my gaze.
"Thanks, Pistachio Boy," he says, watching me squirm. I don't reply, just take the money from his outstretched hand and add it to the cashier. I realize that he paid for it in exact change and smile a little to myself.
"What's making you smile like that?" He says in an almost whisper, leaning forward even further. His hand brushes mine and my heart goes into overdrive, my intestines twisting around themselves in panic. I lunge for his drink in a desperate effort to speed the entire thing along—
And i slip a little on the tiled floor—
And the drink goes flying—
Headed straight for him—
I try to smack it out of the air but I'm too slow—
And it splatters all over his green bandana, tied so neatly around his neck.
His face contorts in disgust, first at the drink soaking him, then at me. A few moments pass before I realize too late that I'm standing there uselessly.
"Shit, i have an audition in an hour! Aren't you going to help clean up this mess, Pistachio Boy?" He snarls, this time with anger and not a hint of playfulness.
"I-I'm really sorry, is there anything i can do—?" I start, gathering paper towels in my fists.
"Save it. You look like a botched fursuit anyway," he snaps, sauntering towards the door.
I can only watch as the boy from the coffee shop—Tony—marches out the door and out of my life, just like that.
It's over before it even began.
{Tony's POV}
I huff angrily at myself and at Pistachio Boy as i stride down the sidewalk. My stomach is a writhing knot of shame, frustration, and embarrassment as people's eyes bore into me as i pass them. "What the fuck are you looking at?" I shout at a group of teenagers eyeing me with a judgemental air. The group draws tighter around itself and hurries away, casting nervous glances at my receding back. "Shit," i mutter. I cant walk into an audition looking like this. My house is a forty minute walk from here. There's no way i can make it on time without showing up covered in pink drink. "Shit!" I say again, louder this time. But then i get an idea. I pull up google maps and search for the nearest CVS. It's a thirty-minute walk there and back. "Score," i say to myself as i start my quest.
Time passes oddly quickly, and I'm at CVS before i know it. I beeline straight to the hygiene section, scanning the shelves until i find what i need. I grab baby wipes, hand sanitizer, and a Red Bull. My mood is improving by the moment, and I'm feeling better now that i can get the sticky pink sugar off of me. It's already dried into my bandana, though. I study it longer than i should, the vibrant green reminding me of Pistachio Boy's fur. I shake my head a little, as if that helps free the thought from my mind. It doesn't. I cant stop thinking about him, even though he's the reason I'm in this mess. He must hate me, the way i treated him. I shouldn't have said that thing about him looking like a fursuit.
My mind is racing and my paws are shaking because what if he meant to do it? What if I was too forward and he got angry? What if—
I shake my head a second time as i approach the checkout counter and try to focus on the moment like my therapist taught me. It's hard not to listen to the whirlwind of thoughts inside my skull, but i somehow make it out of CVS without bursting.
With fifteen minutes before my audition starts, i enter the building where it's being held and quickly navigate to the bathroom. I grab several paper towels from the automatic dispenser and start scrubbing my matted fur. I exhale deeply and close my eyes. It's too late to apologize for lashing out at Pistachio Boy, but i feel guilty about the way i treated him. I know there's a low chance i'll see him again, but i can't get him out of my mind. despite the embarrassing way i acted a part of me wishes he was here with me...
