Shawn Spencer (capn_crunch) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2016-11-30 22:00:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, shawn spencer, spencer hastings |
Who: Spencer. Shawn Spencer.
When: October
Where: Coffee house
What: Random meeting: shaken, not stirred.
Rating/Warnings: Low/none
Status: Complete
Spencer tried one of those Sparkling lattes a couple days ago--actually, a Sparkling Wet Cappuccino--and was completely in love. She’d come back today at lunchtime to get another one, thinking this may become a habit. Possibly an expensive and high-caloric one. But the atmosphere at the bakery was really nice--warm, but not too warm, cozy, but not overly pushy with friendliness. She liked it. She decided to order a Sparkling Wet Cap and a mozzarella, tomato and basil sandwich on a baguette.
An amazing lunch. Spencer didn’t have class for the rest of the day, so she decided to eat her lunch at a table in the back and settle in to read with her food. But first she had to get to the front of the line and order. It seemed like the line was moving exceptionally slowly today.
California. Orange County. Land of dreams, beautiful women, and apparently something called a sparkling latte. Shawn had absolutely no clue what a sparkling latte was, but the moment he had heard that it existed, he knew he had to have one.
Opening the door to the bakery, Shawn paused to take a deep breath. Oh sweet Jesus on a pastry. This is what he was talking about. He pulled off his sunglasses to get a better look at this place. He glanced around the room, taking in the ambiance. Nice. There looked to be a long line to place an order which sucked, but at least he would have time to look at the various pastries and see what was available.
Stepping over to the end of the line, Shawn smiled to himself. Well, if he was going to be waiting there were certainly worse places to wait than behind a beautiful woman. He waited a bit, biding his time as they inched slowly forward. Another few steps and he tapped her gently on the shoulder. “Hi. Sorry. It’s just... “ He leaned forward a bit. “Has anyone asked what’s wrong with you today?”
Spencer’s mind wasn’t on the man who was wandering creeping up behind her in line. She was staring at the baguette sandwich in the pastry case and imagining what it would be like slightly warmed. Maybe they could pop it into the toaster for her? With gooey, fresh mozzarella and thick slices of fresh tomato? It made her salivate.
But then someone was talking to her, And spencer turned slightly to take a look. Some man with a bit of stubble and interesting eyes was talking to her. Asking what was wrong with her? Her eyebrows scrunched together just a little and she almost scowled. “I’m sorry?”
Shawn gave the woman a serious look. Now that she had turned he had a better look at her face. Ooo. Those eyes were nearly as silky as her hair. “Don’t be.” He let his eyes move across her face and hair, keeping away from the ‘danger zones’. He had class, after all. “Because there is absolutely nothing wrong with you.”
His smile was charming, (and he should know, he’d perfected it practicing before a mirror in high school), as he extended his hand to her. “Hi. I’m Shawn.”
Despite herself, Spencer’s cheeks went bright pink at his compliment. She took a beat, and then gave a little laugh. Okay, that was a good line. Completely caught her off guard. She slipped her hand into his and shook it. She had a weak grip and delicate fingers. “Spencer.” She replied, grinning softly. “Does that line work every time?”
“No, only the first time.” Shawn shook her hand but didn’t let go after a moment, choosing instead to give her a curious look. Did she just call him by his last name? He studied her face, just in case he had somehow missed something. The images quickly flickered through his brain as he tried to find a match. Nope. He’d never slept with her. Or seen her before, for that matter. And considering the lack of recognition on her face, that only left one conclusion. “I’m sorry, did you just say your name was Spencer?”
And then the flirtatious guy was holding onto her hand and looking at her curiously. Spencer’s heart skipped for just a moment before her hand was released and she looked back at him. At first concern washed her features, then she looked a bit more curious than anything else. Matching his curiosity with her own. “That I did. Spencer Hastings,” she added the last name in case that was what confused him. She wasn’t ashamed of her name, though she knew it was unusual. It wouldn’t be the first time that someone had told her Spencer wasn’t a girl’s name.
“Wow. This must be what it feels like to be John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt.” Shawn shook his head in wonder. He could use this. Plus, it was actually pretty cool. Plus, he could use this. “I mean, your first name is Spencer, my last name is Spencer...It’s a good thing we met before we ordered. This is a new coffee shop for me. I might’ve accidentally taken your order and you’d be left wondering why this ‘Shawn’ never turned up for his sparkling latte and what I believe is the most adorable miniature pineapple upside-down cake I’ve ever seen.” He pointed to said pastry, sitting unobtrusively in the pastry case.
“Ohhh.” Well, that was a first, anyway. Spencer hadn’t heard that one before. She wasn’t entirely surprised, though. This guy seemed like the kind of guy who would come up with something like that on the fly. Then again, maybe it was a crazy coincidence. Maybe it was true. If they married, she’d be Spencer Spencer. Wow, the random things that flew through her mind.
“It does look pretty amazing,” Spencer said. “I’m leaning more toward savory, though, so I’d know it wasn’t my pineapple upside down cake. And I go for sparkling cap, not latte.” She raised an eyebrow, finally giving this guy a once over. He was handsome enough. She liked his smile. And his shoulders.
Shawn caught her eyeing him and his smile grew a bit wider. He could tell the moment she put their names together - obvious, but he really couldn’t blame her. How awesome would Spencer Spencer be? Not that a kid could grow up with that name; not and survive Junior High. But as an adult the nicknames alone would be priceless. Spen-squared, for example.
“Savory, huh? That would make this, what? A coffee shop lunch? Did I get turned around and walk into Jimmie’s by mistake?” As in Jimmie’s Cafe from Pulp Fiction. Not that he expected her to know that. Not with the expensive cut of her clothes and purse. Or the fact that she had not even been born when that movie came out. Hm. More Wallflower, less Traveling Pants. Shawn placed a hand to his head. “What am I saying? This can’t be Jimmie’s. Jimmie’s is on the way to that fancy place up the hill. What’s it called again? Four- No, Five Crowns, right? You know the one that looks like an olde English cottage?”
Spensquared is awesome.
Spencer didn’t know what Jimmie’s was. Well, she probably would get the reference if it was pointed out to her, but she didn’t pick up on it. Spencer Hastings was pretty up on her pop culture, actually. Surprisingly so for a girl who was always stuck in a book. Or doing homework. Or stuck in a book while doing homework. She cocked her head to the side. “Coffee Shop lunch it is.” She raised an eyebrow at his babbling. “Five Crowns? The English place?” The conversation had taken a strange turn there, and she wasn’t sure how it’d gone that way.
“That’s the one. They have these Christmas lights in every entrance way and I know what you’re thinking: Christmas lights? It’s not even Thanksgiving! But I’d hate to burst their bubble, you know?” Shawn’s lips curled upward to show that he was at least partially kidding.
“...Christmas lights? Are you sure they’re not just… like, pretty lights?” Spencer asked. She raised an eyebrow at this albeit highly amusing stranger. She wasn’t sure about the place, though she thought she should be. It sounded like the kind of place where her mom would go. Fancy… ish. And kinda private. At least, she thought so.
“Twinkling lights? I think the English call them fairy lights.” Spencer said, a little smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.
“They have different names for the same lights?” Shawn asked, genuinely curious. Maybe they were Holiday-neutral lights. Who really knew what holidays the English celebrated, anyway? His best friend once told him that they watch boxing instead of opening presents from Santa on Christmas morning. Wait, that didn’t sound right. Maybe was it celebrating the boxes instead of the presents? Whatever. They were strange. End of story.
“You know, I don’t actually know if they’re fairy lights instead of Christmas lights. I guess the only way to be sure is to go back and take another look. Do you think- No.” Shawn paused, shaking his head with a small smile. “I mean, that would be strange, right? Asking a stranger to go with you to a restaurant to verify the kind of lights they use.” He raised his hand to his lips, as if in thought, but his eyes were watching her instead.
“American English is different from the other versions,” Spencer explained with a little grin on her lips. She raised an eyebrow when he sort of… sort of asked her out? Was this him asking her on a date? The little grin turned into a brighter smile, and she gave something of a laugh. Not an unkind one, but a highly amused one. “Why, Shawn Spencer, did you just ask me out on a date?”
Shawn put on his surprised face. He’d practiced that one for the show. “A date? What- Oh my god. That does sound like I’m asking you on a date, doesn’t it?” Leaning against the counter, he let the surprise fade into what he hoped was a charming, even debonair (that meant really cool, right?), smile. “I was just thinking that we could go investigate these fairy lights they’re supposed to have. If we happen to stay and have a nice meal after that, well, we can figure out if we want to label it something then.”
Spencer considered him for a moment, smirking softly. Then she dug around in her purse and pulled out a little notebook and pen. She opened the notebook and began writing. “When you think it’s a good time for that investigation,” she tore the paper out of the notebook, folded it in half, and held it out to him. “Call me.”
Shawn glanced at the number, the digits lighting up as he automatically committed them to memory. He looked back up at her with a lopsided grin. “It's a date.”