Work Text:
“Uh…Louise? Someone’s here for you, hon.”
By the confusion in her mom’s voice, Louise can tell her guest is someone unexpected. She puts down the dish she’s been half-heartedly scrubbing, exiting the kitchen with sleeves still pushed past her elbows.
Though she hasn’t worked consistent shifts at the restaurant since her early twenties, she still ventures over to lend a hand every now and again. She hates the workload once she’s actually in it, but a sickening sense of nostalgia keeps drawing her back anyway.
“Who’s—?”
She starts, but the sentence ends in a jaw drop. She closes her mouth just as quickly, not wanting her uninvited guest to know he’s caught her off guard.
“Logan.” She says, voice on fire.
A smirk crosses the older man’s face. It’s an expression that could only ever be worn by someone intentionally antagonizing her. He’s getting under her skin and he knows it. He doesn’t even have the decency to look afraid of her.
“Hi Louise!” Logan says brightly, feigning social norms. “Linda here was just telling me about your menu.”
Louise gives her mom an icy expression. Fraternizing with the enemy is no way to keep him away from their turf.
“He asked!” Linda says defensively, holding her hands up.
“I did.” Logan says. “But…I think we all know what I’m really here for.”
He turns his gaze to Louise, staring her down with impenetrable confidence. His eyes don’t leave her face, but she can sense them wanting to stray. He’s mentally undressing her whether she can see it or not.
Uncomfortable with this sudden confrontation, Louise tightens her jaw. She grabs Logan by the wrist, steering him harshly toward the door and away from her mother’s prying eyes.
“Sorry, Logan! We haven’t had a pest problem in years, and I’m not gonna let you start another one. Find another restaurant to infest.”
From behind her, Louise hears her mom start to protest. Something about being nice to customers, blah blah blah. Not important.
“Louise!” Logan says.
He tugs his arm, but she notices he doesn’t use all his strength. He could easily slip out of her grip but chooses not to. She can only assume this means he likes when she touches him.
Not willing to risk him escaping and following her back inside, she doesn’t stop dragging him until they’ve reached his car. It’s a ways down the street, far enough that her mom won’t be able to spy on them from the window. And Louise knows she wants to.
“What the hell was that?” She demands, finally letting Logan go at his BMW.
He leans against the vehicle, crossing his arms, and Louise hates how aware he is of his own hotness.
“What was what? You said I could pick you up from the restaurant.”
Louise pushes his chest, but he doesn’t even stumble backwards. He just stands there grinning, relishing in her annoyance.
“That’s not what I meant and you know it!” Louise snaps. “I wanted you to come after closing. Preferably in a disguise.”
Infuriatingly, Logan responds to this by reaching out for her waist. Louise’s shirt is cropped slightly, and his hand lies on the bare skin between her jeans and her top. The contact makes her heart race, and she’s suddenly afraid she won’t be able to form a coherent sentence.
“I’m sorry.” He says insincerely. “I just couldn’t resist. I mean, the look on your face when you saw me? Hilarious.”
Louise knows she’d feel the same if the roles were reversed. Weirdly enough, they almost always find humor in the exact same things. That kind of inexplicable synergy has been happening more and more lately.
“If you come to the restaurant again, I won’t hesitate to slap you.” Louise warns him.
“Promise?”
“You’re disgusting! You’re a freak.”
Grinning, he snakes his hand away from her waist and slides it into her back pocket. Louise looks at his face, suddenly wishing they could materialize off of Ocean Avenue and into his bed.
For a brief second, she even considers making out with him right here for everyone to see.
“And you’re sleeping with me.” Logan reminds her. “Who’s the freak now?”
Once again, she pushes her palms against his chest. Logan releases her, but his smug expression suggests he can read her mind. He knows exactly what awaits them at the end of her work day.
“I’ll guess I’ll let you get back to work now.” He says. “Text me when you’re actually off.”
“Not happening.” Louise says venomously.
But even as she storms away from him and toward the restaurant, they both know it’s a lie.