Ship: Jackcrutchie (Also known as: Crack, Santa Gays, and Rooftop hoes)
AU: Coffee shop
Trigger warnings: Swears/Swear words, curse words, whatever

I'm sorry for not updating in a while, take this as an apology

Holy shit. Here we go again. This was typical. This was predictable, and anyone who knew Jack knew what he was like. He was the most hopeless romantic you could imagine, even though he's never say that outloud. Men always seem to have this annoying trait of never accepting their feelings, and to say he had fallen under this curse of "manlyness" would be a understatement. It was frustrating, really, that men couldn't see the truth even if it was spelt out in neon colours in front of them; it was pathetic. What was masculinity other then a word that men use to make themselves feel better, feel stronger, to pump up an already giant ego? Why was it that men felt the need to be tough the first place? Why was it seen as weak to cry when it was but a human reaction?

Jack sat at the tacky, broken table nearest to the counter of the Banner café, contemplating these tricky questions that he'd never get an answer to. The source of his problems and his deep, poetic thoughts? The adorable barista currently humming along to the trashy pop blasting from somewhere unknown. He wouldn't say he was staring, he was purely observing, looking at this angel on earth which was dancing in a way that made him feel.....things. This new boy complicated things. Jack sighed, downing the last of his black coffee and stood up from the table. He'd summon some strength to talk to the barista tomorrow..... right?

"Uh, one black coffee please."

"Coming right up, cowboy" Jack was screaming at himself, whether it was internally not he didn't really care. The cute girl winked at him and he felt his heart turned into a thousand very confused butterflies.

"Name?"

"i-Uh-Um- Jack Kelly,"

"Cute name, Charlie Morris, how do,"

Was he meant to shake the hand of this angel, this Saint of earth? He shook her hand gently, not wanting to come of desperate but also wanting to seem approachable but also cool and mysterious but kind, ya know? His mind wondered back to the sandy-haired boy from yesterday.....was it possible to like two people at the same time? If so, why was it always cute blonde baristas?! Was he cursed to like baristas for the rest of his life, living in a constant circle of his coffee being criticised and awkward pining?! Would he be trapped in an shitty coffee shop his whole life? If love is blind, what does he see?!?

"Black coffee for Jack Kelly!"

"Oh, uh, yeah, dats me."

"I remember, I always remember the cute ones" The barista smirked, winking smugly as he turned a deeper shade of red.

"Well, you ain't that bad yourself" Flirting was not gonna work in this situation. His flirting was bad, per say, but it was clear that Charlie had the upper hand, and that she was very good at this. Jack grabbed his coffee and rushed out before he could melt into a puddle of flusteredness and embrass himself further Infront of his dream girl.

"Uh, hey, can I get your number? For, ya know, coffee purposes." Jack scratched the back of his neck with one arm, holding out a cream napkin to the sandy-haired boy in front of him.

"Oh, yeah, of course, those famous coffee purposes," The barista pulled out a pen and wrote it on Jack's out-stretched arm instead of the napkin, "There you go. The name's Charlie Morris, by the way"

A sense of déjà vu hit him, suddenly remembering the female barista from the day before, and now that he thought about it, they did look similar.

"Hey, uh, do you have a sister or something?"

Charlie looked at him, confused, "Nope, I'm an only child, why?"

"Well, uh, there was a lady working yesterday called Charlie Morris so I thought like maybe you were related or something?"

"Oh! That was me, you're the cute black coffee guy, aren't you?"

If Jack learnt anything that day, it was this: just because they look different, doesn't mean that they aren't the same person. And as he left with a cute guys number on his arm and a date booked for that evening, he thought to himself that maybe, just maybe, he might be bisexual.