29

Holding hands, Winston and Jason heads into the same café they were at with Gary only a scant week ago. It's significantly busier today and they stall slightly inside of the doors, Winston's eyes skipping over the tables and chairs that are occupied. The booth they sat at last week is taken, as well, and he frowns somewhat.

"Where do you wanna sit?" Jason asks, looking down at him and tilting his head in askance.

Winston shrugs, glancing around the room again. He doesn't have a general preference; none of the tables by the windows are available, and the further into the large area it goes the more empty places there are. It's a very square room, with plenty pf space in the middle to shove in lots of round tables.

Jason starts strong with, "I'll lead the way?" but it ends up sounding like a question anyway.

Winston nods, smiling up at him.

Jason grins at him, squeezing his hand, and does in fact lead the way between the table and chairs and other people. There's a soft sound of music in the air, but it's barely audible over the sound of conversations mulling (?) in the air. Winston steps out of the way of a toddler and nearly pulls Jason to a stop in the process, but Jason is thankfully very steady on his feet and doesn't go down.

The ancient couple who must surely be over a hundred are probably pretty grateful neither of them fell on them.

Finally, Jason stops at a table that isn't surrounded by others. There's a bunch of used coffee cups pushed together in the center of the round thing, Winston grimacing slightly as he looks around for somewhere to put them away.

Jason steals the moment from him, grabbing them in his big hands and depositing them on another table. Winston watches him go; the easy way he handles carrying them all at once---four cups the last time he counted, but there are even more balanced in the others---the way he gently puts them down one after the other, long fingers lingering slightly to put the cups just right, the way the bones in his wrists flex as he moves.

It's possible Winston has a problem.

They sit. There are four chairs to this table, perfect according to what Winston has been briefed to, and he clears his throat after a moment. Glimpses the time on his phone which just so happens to be screen up on the table and unlocked. Accidentally.

It's time.

As if on cue, the bell above the door rings, and Winston cranes his neck and sees---Clyde and Samantha.

Inhaling sharply, he turns suddenly on the chair and faces Jason again, who is already looking at him. "You okay?" Jason asks, eyebrows furrowed, gaze examining him. "We don't have to do this today," he adds.

Winston shakes his head. "No-" A deep breath, "No, I mean, I'm fine. Today is okay. This is--good."

Jason continues to look at him, eyes observing him, and Winston will fully admit to making eye-contact for the sole purpose of distracting himself. Jason's eyes are luminescent; they glitter in the light and Winston's breath catches in his throat. Jason is so fucking beautiful that sometimes Winston looks at him and wonders how he's real.

Clearing his throat, Winston looks down at the table and draws figures on the wood with the tip of his finger. Jason continues to look at him---Winston can feel the gaze on his skin.

"Jay!" Clyde's distinctive voice comes from behind him, and Winston' freezes, shoulders drawing up nearly to his ears.

Jason reaches forward, taking his hand after barely a second's hesitation and Winston stares at it. Jason's hand is bigger than his, fingers longer, thick veins clear under the skin; they look elegant in a way that Winston's utterly fails at.

"Okay?" Jason asks, voice low so it doesn't carry. Winston can feel the others approaching from behind, giants in his imagination. Winston nods, tongue failing to move.

Jason smiles at him. He looks over Winston's shoulder, then, and Winston draws his hand back and he turns on the chair to look back. Samantha and Clyde are less than a meter behind him, and he flinches.

Samantha waves at him with a tiny smile when she notices him looking, and Clyde entirely bypasses that in order to step forward and clap Winston on his shoulder. "Hey, man," Clyde drawls, winking. "I hear you've been having some pretty hot dates lately. Anything to share?"

"No?" Winston asks, eyebrows furrowed.

Samantha stomps on Clyde's foot, Clyde grimacing. "Your so mean, Sam," Clyde mutters as he sits, and she raises an unimpressed eyebrow. Settled on the other side of the table (though it's hard to tell where the sides go as it's a truly round table) to sit beside Jason. It leaves Sam sitting beside Winston, and he scoots his chair a little closer to Jason.

Unfortunately, it's accompanied by a distinctive noise.

There's a second where everyone is just silently looking at each other, Winston moving his hands under the table and---after a breathless moment---he reaches out. Out of the corner of his eyes, he spots Jason's gaze dipping and then Jason's hand grabs his again.

Winston exhales. He looks up at Clyde and Samantha, and inhaling deeply, offers the time-honored, "Hello."

Sam stares at him, eyes dark. In this light, he can't see what color they are, but they're intense nonetheless. Clyde opens his mouth, but winces and grimaces again before he says anything, muttering a drawn-out, "Sam," under his breath.

Sam stops examining Winston for a second to glare at Clyde, then looks back at Winston. "Hello," she returns his greeting in kind, dark eyebrows smoothing out.

Jason looks between them, squeezing Winston's hand below the table. "Guys?" Jason looks at them, and Samantha stays silent while Clyde rolls his eyes.

"Alright, I'll bite the bullet," says Clyde. He crosses his arms over his chest and forces his expression into something resembling seriousness. Winston has seen him around enough to know it doesn't come naturally to him. He manages to hold onto it for approximately five seconds, then he smirks at Winston and, in a mischievous tone, asks, "So, what are your intentions with my bro's heart?"