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(no subject)

Who: Ben and York
What: Coffee date (or 'date').
When: Nowish?
Where: Coffee shop
Rating/Warnings: None

After stupid memories ruined Valentine's Day, he'd offered to buy York a cup of coffee. Then life had gotten more chaotic and finding the time to work things out had gotten a little more complicated - but he didn't forget the offer, and he didn't get any less interested in the meet up.

Which meant that it was finally happening.

He wasn't dressed up - for him - but that still meant slacks and a button-down shirt, when he headed out of the Aviator and took an uber to the coffee shop they were meeting up at. He wasn't entirely sure he was going to recognize who he was looking for -

Until he saw him and then laughed, because of course he did.

"Hey. I'm Ben. I've seen you around, haven't I?" At more than the occasional support group. "The gym, I think." Coming and going, at least.

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York's sitting outside at one of the small cafe tables on the sidewalk when Ben approaches. He grins when addressed and stands.

"Yeah, you probably couldn't miss my ugly mug, even with the population of this city."

York obviously doesn't really think he's ugly; the care he takes in his appearance and in the way he does his hair shows. It's only the scar over his eye that might make that self-deprecating remark somewhat true in his mind.

"The gym? Yeah, I think so." He nods toward the door of the cafe and allows Ben to lead the way into the shop before continuing. "Got to stay in shape these days. I'm there probably 5 times a week, maybe more? Depends."

"There's probably a joke there somewhere between you calling yourself ugly and having to stay in shape, but I'm just not the kind of asshole to make it."

Because, no, York is not ugly at all and the scar doesn't really get more than passing awareness from Ben. It does, however, make him very recognizable.

"I'm in the gym maybe 3 times a week, but for me it's just cross-training." Absent, explaining and not much more than that. He certainly doesn't look or move like a lot (but not all) people who are serious about athletics. "Do you know what you want to drink?"

York chuckles at Ben's remark, standing by to give the other man a chance to look at the menu.

"A mocha latte, I think," he says in response to his question. "In the mood for something a little sweeter today."

"Chocolate is never the wrong decision," he said, with a quick flash of a grin and placed his own order for - well it amounted to hot apple juice with spices and caramel. He didn't need the caffeine and decaf was just wrong. "Neither is sugar and cinnamon."

He chuckles in return.

"I used to have this captain who insisted you weren't a real man if you didn't drink it black. Back when I was on the fishing boats, that is."

York obviously doesn't agree. Or doesn't care whether he's being considered a real man. One of those.

The foaming machine starts hissing and York grins.

"I love that sound."

"I've spent most of my life as a figure skater. There are problems and messages but none of them really relate to what constitutes a 'real man', much less how to get your caffeine."

Which is just dry and wryly amused, but there's some real frustration in there somewhere. People are so... dumb about stuff sometimes.

"You know, I think a lot of people discount how hard you have to work to do that," he says. "There's no way a guy can spin 4 times in the air and land on a knife blade without being a real athlete."

"Yeah, but the second you put on sequins and make-up you become weak. Don't ask me how it works, I never quite figured it out." He hands over his debit card for the drinks and moves along the counter to wait for them to be finished.

"They must have magical testosterone-leaching properties," York says with a slight snort, heading with Ben down to the finished drink counter. "Listen, I try my best to counteract the whole idea that a guy can't be into football and musical theater, or whatever, but I've gotten into literal fistfights over my 'manhood'," he adds. "Whatever that is."

"In some ways I am a walking stereotype, but let me know next time you need backup in a fight. I can't throw a punch to save my life, but I've got a hell of a kick that I'm pretty sure could break someone's knee." There's a quick grin to go with that. "Because I am sure whatever your manhood is, there's not a problem with it and it wouldn't be their business anyway."

"If you happen to be around, I'll be sure to let you know," he says, grinning back. "Nah, things are a lot better about that here in New York. That's one reason I'm here. That and being able to see Hamilton."

His drink is set on the counter and he steps up to grab it.

"If there's one place in the world you won't get grief for liking Broadway it's here."

"I'm a fan - of Hamilton, Broadway, and New York."

He grabs his drink when it comes up right behind York's and then glances around. "You want to sit down in here or take a walk? Talk to me about that losing your date on Valentines thing , or about the fishing boat."

Edited 2020-06-03 02:28 (UTC)

"Sure, we can walk and talk," he says, and leads the way back out of the coffee shop.

"The boat isn't the most interesting job I've ever had," he confides, "but it's definitely one of the hardest. I used to work on the oil rigs, too. Right now I'm a longshoreman. I just can't seem to sit still."

He gives a little shrug.

"My mom wanted me to be a lawyer."

He takes a drink from his cup once they're outside, listens to the answer and then pauses. "So. I have a confession. I have no idea what a longshoreman is." At all. Which was ridiculous. He thinks is ridiculous.

"Oh, I unload the cargo boats that dock here. Yeah, it's not nearly as common of a job as it was in, say, the early 1900s. Now it's basically just for deliveries that are being made to Manhattan. So it's kind of niche, actually. But still a pretty physical job."

"That's actually pretty cool and it sounds like having a physical outlet's important for you being satisfied." There isn't innuendo in there, really. "I can't imagine I'd be happy with a desk job, either, actually. Being able to move around counts for a lot."

He chuckles. "Yeah. Mom was...not happy when I decided not to go to college. I couldn't even handle the idea of doing something like being a lawyer, though. Just the thought... Makes me want to crawl up the walls."

He nods slightly to show understanding and asks the follow up question, since York seems pretty damn happy to talk openly. "Did she get over it?"

"Depends on how you define 'over it', I guess," he says. "She still brings it up, now and then."

"I didn't finish college until late, and I've never really used my degree. No complaints about being late; they knew why it was taking me forever. Minor occasional complaints about not using the degree I got, but they're really occasional, and that's settled some in the past year or so."

Probably more information than York needed but this conversation was pretty comfortable for him.

"Yeah, and the thing is, that life does whatever it wants, you know?" York says, gesturing a bit too wildly with his coffee and spilling a glug of it. "The only reason I'm not a HVAC technician now is how hard mom fought me so hard on taking that apprenticeship, but HVAC techs can make more than lawyers."

He brings his coffee in closer, calming himself.

"Yeah, I don't know. It might not have worked out, blah blah blah. But just because I went to school to be a lawyer wouldn't mean I was going to be rich and successful."

He moves away from York when he gestures with the coffee, regardless of which side it's on because he does not want to be wearing mocha. "One of the biggest advantages to life is that it doesn't stop until it really stops. And one of the biggest advantages of skating is that we're all going to have a second or third career at some point and know it going in."

"True," he says. "Anyway, I'm happy with life. Sorry to infodump on you about it, though. I know that can get annoying. I'm an open book, though, as I'm sure you can tell. Ask me my opinion between Pepsi and Coke and I'll tell you what's the best.

"It's Coke," he adds, confidingly.

He laughs. "I'm not much different and I enjoy having information dumped on me. Me too on Coke, by the way. Pepsi's too sweet. Makes my teeth squeak." Hey, there was a question out there and he was going to answer it.

Plus, he's enjoying the conversation a lot.

"Yeah, it's like that," he says, then takes a sip of his undoubtedly not-any-less-sweet mocha. "So how did you end up getting into figure skating? Personally, I played football and golf in high school, so I'm not really familiar with how people get into that."