Frankly, it didn't even occur to her that the young man hand-delivering her morning, noon and night meals was.. the same guy. Or maybe it wasn't, but this one definitely stopped by at least once a day. Maybe the afternoon shift when she ordered lunch.

Probably.

Once again, to reiterate, she hasn't been paying the delivery man much attention. Every time she opens the door to fork over her credit card, she is clothed in clothes too big for her frame and mega bedhead. Her greeting was always a grunt or a groan, hardly human and hardly friendly. Just a quick slap of her card against the screen and she hastily takes her food, offers him a forced smile before closing the door on his face.

If he had been expecting the exuberant and bright, shining sun of a person that Stormy was on live television-- he had been sorely disappointed. The sun had gone down and the night was endless.

And today is no different, except this time, she's completely changed the tune of her order. And this time, she's fully dressed and showered and.. just a smidgen brighter. Like she's finally stepped outside to touch grass this week.

Stormy opens the door with force, anticipating him arriving even before the doorbell rings. It's a good thing he hadn't knocked or something, or he may have lurched forward. She blinks, staring at him quite deadpanned like, before glancing down at the delivery bag.

"Fantastic. I'll take this to go."

It appears she is dressed to head out.

aaron faust

☉

moments after he rings the doorbell, the door is thrown open. damn, she must be starving, he thinks, the bag of food stirred by the sudden rush of air rolling into the condo. stormy appears in the doorway, well-dressed. aaron blinks owlishly as she risks a step outside, then another, her own expression deadpan as she stares back at him. 
[break][break]

her eyes lower to the food in his hands. "to go?" he echoes her request, only comprehending a half-second later that, oh, he has a job. "uh, yeah, sure!"
[break][break]

aaron opens his mouth, but fails to find words as a delibird squawks its way up the footpath to them. "got another delivery?" he asks, lighthearted, as the delibird manifests a cd out of its literal butt and holds it out for stormy. it procures another for him, incessant even as he motions for it to give the second cd to stormy. aaron takes it, the bird departs. the whole exchange has a level of absurdity that even he has trouble comprehending.
[break][break]
"um, aaaaanyways," he drags out the word anyways as he searches for his card reader. "i just need your card and you'll be good to go."
[break][break]

+ Stormy Silph

Momentarily, Stormy frowns, brows coming together for a fraction of a second to indicate her confusion. Was he confused? Was he at the wrong door, had he not meant to stop by her place? Was this not the quick and dirty breakfast she'd ordered?

No, it definitely was. She could smell the extra pump of pumpkin she'd asked for.

Awkwardly, the woman reaches forward to take her food, tucking the bag under her arm so that she can use two hands to bring the coffee to her nose. With a deep inhale, she stills her anxiety for only a moment.

"Huh?"

At first, she assumes that he's talking to her. But after a glance down her chest to the clothes she's wearing, she deduces that she does not, absolutely does not look like shes out to deliver anything.

So...

Ah.

There, at her feet, is a delightful little Delibird straining to reach her. In its hand is a disc, and she raises a brow and bends at the knee in a half-squat to take it. She waves it in an awkward thank you, and the bird then turns to Aaron to do the same. But that, in turn, is even more awkward because of his attempt to redirect the gift back to her.

Why?

"Oh, right. Guess I should pay you."

She bites down on the edge of the cup to hold onto it while fishing for her wallet

aaron faust

☉

not to announce his parasocial relationship to the world or anything, but something really is different about stormy this time. she seems kind of like a real celebrity instead of a — well, someone like him. she's dressed nicely and giving him the vibes that he is way too far beneath her to be considered a cool guy and not just a vehicle to get food on her table. he fumbles with her food under his self-made pressure, awkwardly pressing it into her waiting hands. [break][break]
a delibird comes and goes, taking his delivery boy thunder with it. he's left holding a cd with no idea of the whats or whys behind this random gift. he shoves it into the ill-fitting space in one of his jacket pockets and fishes out a card reader from another.
[break][break]
"you want me to hold that for you while you look?" he tries, brows raised, as she chomps down on the lip of her coffee cup and starts digging around in her pockets. seems like a recipe for spilling coffee down her trillion-dollar outfit and sending her spiraling back into her hermit hole for another ten deliveries — but what does he know? he's just the uberfeets guy. 
[break][break]

+ Stormy Silph

The funny thing is, the pedestal he puts her on is one that crumbles beneath her feet - one that is unwelcome and unpleasant to stand on. She teeters at the edge, anticipating the fall, not realizing that what would rise up to meet her would feel a hell of a lot better than the suffocation she experiences now.

Being a celebrity sucked.

Stormy exhales hotly, cup slipping just slightly before she bites down harder. Through mostly sealed lips, and showing teeth - is that hot? - she growls out her exasperation.

"Where is it? I just had it, I swear. I bought those cute boots online.."

At first, she doesn't catch what it is that he's said. But she does a double-take on his raised brows and his stricken expression. It prompts her to relax her own face, as she can only assume her expression is quite severe and intimidating. However in doing so, she nearly drops the coffee she's holding precariously.

Now awkward, she pulls the cup away from her mouth to note the teeth marks in the plastic top.

"Uhh.. sure. Yeah."

Stormy reaches to give him the drink, but hesitates and pulls it away halfway, only to commit to offering it to him. She takes one more glance at it, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, before resuming rummaging through her purse.

"I'm so sorry. I'm not usually this disorganized."

A lie. Stormy is the epitome of disorganized.

aaron faust

☉

aaron stands impotently as stormy rifles through her purse for any sign of hoennian currency. he musters up a semblance of usefulness by offering to hold her cup, imagining that this small show chivalry will linger in her mind. then she'll ask him out because he's so cool. and then, they'll get married. no prenup. 
[break][break]
stormy holds the cup out for him. he reaches for it, only for her to pull her hand back before he could grasp it. he glances up at her, brow quirked, and feels a cup bump against his fingertips as she gives it to him for real this time. fucked up, he thinks, taking the coffee into his possession. under other circumstances, he probably would've given the thought a life beyond the tip of his tongue. [break][break]
alas, he's a salaried man now.
[break][break]
"it's cool," aaron says, cavalier about her missing money and the unpaid food tucked beneath her arm. he sets his jaw, eyes roving between unseen interests somewhere in the shrubs. finally: "hey, listen, you've been a great customer so i've got you covered this time."
[break][break]
he smiles boyishly and holds her coffee out for her — then pulls it back out of reach. "here," he says, softer, and actually offers it to her this time. 
[break][break]

+ Stormy Silph

It isn't malicious or truly intentional, the reason she hesitates when she offers to give him her coffee cup. But for her, the motion is somewhat intimate, for no other reason than she's sort of crazy.

So crazy, in fact, that, in spite of her body's violent manner of rejecting physical contact with even her closest friends, she gets caught up in something quite intimate as the cup passes hands.

In between her rifling and muttering, her attention spans back to Aaron again and again and.. again.

She blanks, a peculiar blush developing on her face. It reddens worse as she comes back to her senses and full realizes he is still talking to her, and the intimate acts she has manifested are a bizarre and wild fever dream. She blinks rapidly, her hand stills in her purse, and she opens her mouth to object.

But instead, she gasps and sparks.

"What? The fuck's that supposed to mean?"

A great customer. Was that an insult?

But as quickly as her fire flames, it fizzles. She swallows, suddenly more awkward than she had been a moment ago, and she glances away.

"Uh--"

He offers her coffee back, only to pull it away before she could take it. Her fingers brush against his and she does a double-take, brows creasing in confusion, before he gives her her coffee. And she can't manage to pull her hand back, either. So they sit there awkwardly, both holding the same cup.

aaron faust

☉

cussing? at him? on this christian pokemon-raising internet forum?
[break][break]
her biting response feels like a verbal slap to the face. a spark of indignation ignites in his belly, rising like smoke up his throat. a "fuck's that supposed to mean?" of his own finds its way against his teeth but, without another word, she snuffs out a flame and returns to awkward little embers in front of him.
[break][break]

maybe, he concludes as his own spark goes out, she's one of those don't talk to me until i've had my coffee people.
[break][break]
"it means," aaron says after drawing a steadying, customer service breath, holding the cup out to her. "the meal's free."
[break][break]
he pulls back, employing the same fucked up fake out that she had performed on him a minute ago. only — she reaches out with enough conviction to brush her fingers against his as he's moving the coffee away. her skin feels soft, warm, rich. it feels like something someone who uses 3-in-1 shampoo shouldn't be allowed to touch, but here he is. 
[break][break]
aaron pushes back against her hand. his face feels warm, and he has an inkling that he might start turning red soon if she doesn't take the cup from him.
[break][break]
"y-you, uh, you got it?" he really doesn't want this liquid chill pill to splatter across her walkway due to a clumsy trade-off.
[break][break]

+ Stormy Silph

He didn't mean anything by it, Storms, so relax.

She whispers to herself in her head, loud enough she's almost certain he could spell it out on her lips. No-- wait, don't look at her lips.

Stormy pulls them in, biting down awkwardly as she tries to maintain what little composure she has. It's been weeks since she's really come out of her hovel, and here she is, making an absolute fool of herself in front of the delivery boy.

Gods, he looked familiar.

"Why?"

Because she's a great customer. But she asks anyway, looking rattled, perplexed, annoyed, confused. Her brow twitches, agitation settles onto her face with a vengeance. It relaxes, turns awkward and quiet, however, when their fingers brush against each other. Though her hand clasps around the cup, it clasps over his.

"L-let go, man."

Her voice is quiet, but she exhales in retort when he asks her if she's got it. They're both stammering, both confused by this turn of events.

"Yeah, I've got it, if you'll just let me have it."

Why was he making this difficult? Why was he making her face turn red? Why was his face red? She pulls, frustrated and overwhelmed.

"Dude."

aaron faust

☉

"because," he reiterates. "you've been a great customer." aaron never finished high school, but even he could read between the lines in situations like this — and he can't even read. he's hitting on her vaguely enough to give him plausible deniability. plus, she's taking a long ass time to look through her purse and he has other places to be. "you tip pretty good and sh—and stuff, so i'm returning the favor."
[break][break]
he's returning the coffee, too, with difficulty. her hand rests over his, fingers curling over the back of his as she traps him in an overwhelming amount of man-woman contact.
[break][break]
"i—" aaron feels flustered and frustrated bundled in one confusing emotion. as he looks from the cup to stormy, he sees his own feelings reflected in her face, hears it in her voice. "i-i can't, you—"
[break][break]
stormy seems unaware that she's got his hand as collateral, gorilla-gripping the coffee and him as she demands he lets go. an unexpected yank has him taking one step towards her. [break][break]
"i'm fucking trying to," aaron hisses, his face hot now. he flexes his fingers experimentally, brushing them against her wrist. physical proof that he isn't even holding her drink anymore, despite her accusations that he's a big, ol' incompetent idiot who doesn't know how to hand someone their coffee. "look down, dude, you're holding onto me."
[break][break]
he risks a look down himself, like someone peering off the edge of a high rise building, and gets an eyeful of their illicit hand-holding. his stomach does a flip. 
[break][break]

+ Stormy Silph

"Just say shit. No one likes a faker."

She frowns, her fingers tighten around the cup but she can't seem to realize that she's holding his hand closed around it, too. So she just keeps on fighting and growing more frustrated and embarrassed. That made-up, intimate scenario that she had lived through suddenly felt less like a daydream.

But this type of foreplay was so fucking lame, dude.

Her yank pulls him closer and in turn, her face grows redder. Her grip tightens, however, because what else is she supposed to do? Let go? How stupid. He's the one-- he's the one--

And then he releases the cup, brushes his fingers against her wrist, and takes her breath away all in the same motion. She hesitates, locked on his reddening face before dropping down to the way his hand now brushes against her skin. He is staring at her but she can only see the frustration in his gaze rather than any inkling he might be flirting. Or might have been flirting.

"... Oh."

She uses her other hand to hold onto the cup and shift it to the other, thereby releasing his hand. This time she takes the cup from the bottom, pulling it away gently in the hopes that he's finally let go.

"Well you could have just said that instead of being a dick about it."

aaron faust

☉

aaron simply can't catch a break. one of the many reasons why he's chronically single manifests itself in stormy's voice, a deluge of verbal diarrhea as she shits all over him. a faker? a dick? when did this become a comedy central roast? 
[break][break]
"i'm being a dick?" aaron lets go of the coffee cup once she's got a hold on it without having a hold on him along with it. "i'm being a dick?" he repeats, placing a card-reader-holding hand on his chest. "i'm literally buying your breakfast for you!"
[break][break]
"you—" he points the card reader at her, now, face still red, "you know what, you should be buying me breakfast the way you were feeling me up like that. there's no way you didn't know my hand was there." 
[break][break]

+ Stormy Silph