Who Would've Thought

Author's Note - Hello again! This story features Mike and includes other characters from

Too Sweet

and

Let the Bad Times Roll

, but I try to write all stories to stand on their own. You'll get more character development payoff if you read the other two, but this story doesn't need additional context to be understood. This is set about two years after

Too Sweet

and roughly eight or nine years after

Let the Bad Times Roll

.

CONTENT WARNINGS - Drugs and alcohol, but a lot less than my usual shit. Heavier D/s and rougher sex in this than the others, but no noncon or dubcon. CONTENT WARNINGS WITH SOME SPOILERS - There is a character caring for and dealing with the death of an elderly family member with late-stage Alzheimer's.

Thanks for reading!

1

Max

I didn't mind being alone.

Realistically, it was easier. No one to coordinate around. No one to worry about. No one to argue with or to nag me about my messes. No one to know if I didn't make it home at night. No one to disappoint me or break my heart. Easier. It was so much easier.

Sitting at that coffee shop, waiting to see if RonD87 would actually show up or not was one of the few downsides. Getting stood up was bad. Getting stood up at a coffee shop where I was a regular was worse.

The redheaded barista slid a latte topped with a ridiculous little frowny face drawn in the foam in front of me with an apologetic shrug.

"Oat milk, decaf, no sweetener," she said, repeating how I always ordered my afternoon drinks. "Might not solve any problems, but it might make the next fifteen minutes feel a little better."

I heard myself huff out a little mirthless sound that might have passed for a chuckle.

"Thanks," I said. "Sorry, I d-don't think I caught your name?"

"I'm Kit," she said. She didn't acknowledge my stutter. She had heard it plenty of times before.

"Kit," I repeated. I repeated her name in my head a few times to commit it to memory. I used that trick all the time. People really appreciate it when you remember. "I'm Max."

"Whoever they are, I hate them for you," she said with a sad little smirk.

"Hm, well, I really d-d-don't know who he is, either," I said and dug out my phone. I showed her the profile that had matched to me. She squinted at the photo and then winced.

"Oof, um," she giggled awkwardly. "That's Nicholas Hoult."

"Ah, shit," I said and laughed. "He's an actor, yeah? I don't watch m-m-many m-movies. Well, fuck me, I guess." I blocked the profile and sighed.

The bell on the door dinged. Kit looked up and smirked at the tall man in the doorway. I knew I was staring even as I tried not to. Whoever he was, the man was

gorgeous.

He was long and lean in the most willowy, graceful way I had ever seen on a man, with long limbs that somehow fell in perfect, confident lines at every movement. His dark hair was that short on the sides, long on top, carefully tousled mess that always looked good on everyone but me. He was wearing strategically ripped, well-fitted jeans, a Velvet Underground tee shirt under a black jacket covered in band and rainbow pride patches, and heavy black boots.

"Hey, Mike," Kit greeted the newcomer. She gave me another smile before she went back to the bar to take this gorgeous stranger's order.

Mike

.

Mike was grinning and chatting with Kit. She let him talk with an amused look as she made his coffee.

"You'll come, yeah?" he was asking her when I stopped staring and started listening. "Smokey, too? I need a big turnout."

"Um," Kit sighed and looked around the shop. "Maybe. Ben's not back in town until next week. I'm managing solo until then."

"Just come for a little bit? Just to up the door count?" Mike begged her.

"Yeah, I'll come," she acquiesced. "I can't speak for Teddy, though. He'll probably be by later if you want to ask him."

"Yes!" Mike grinned at her. "I need hotties at the opening. It will make the pictures so much better."

Kit scoffed and rolled her eyes. She glanced my way and caught me eavesdropping. I ducked my head, trying to avoid her eyes. Before I could figure out how to recover, that willowy, graceful stranger slipped into the seat across from me.

"Hey, I'm Mike Rollins," he said with a grin.

"Max Blackwood," I mumbled through my dry throat. Jesus. Up close, his eyes looked like dark, wild honey.

"Be nice, Mike," Kit warned.

"Friend of Kit's?" Mike asked me. He didn't respond to her.

I tried to talk, but I was stuttering. Ah, shit. I had been managing pretty well that day, but this cute guy with his honey-colored eyes had my head spinning. I tried my usual tactics, taking a breath, picturing the word, trying a different word. Nope. I wasn't going to be able to answer this very simple question.

Mike didn't falter. He just smiled at me and waited.

"Sh-sh-shit. Sorry," I mumbled. My cheeks were burning. Yet another thing that was easier about being alone - no one to pity me when I couldn't speak.

"Hey, no worries," Mike said. He was still grinning that handsome, crooked smile. "I talk enough for two people. Interrupt me when you want to."

He launched into an explanation of the bar opening that night. Apparently hot Mike was normally a bar consultant, but this was his first venture into partnering as a co-owner. He was hoping for a big turnout and was out browbeating his friends around town into showing up.

"I'll come," I finally managed. Mike grinned at me.

"Fucking A! Another hottie for my pictures," he crowed.

I felt myself blush again. A hottie? Me? I was cute enough to the right guy but hot wasn't usually the way I got described.

"Mike, reign it in," Kit warned him again. She leaned on the chair next to Mike and glared at him. "Sorry, didn't mean to feed you to the fuckboy wolf," she told me.

"You're mean," Mike whined playfully.

"Lay off Max, he's having a rough day," Kit reprimanded him.

"Get fired? Dumped? Lost dog?" Mike asked me.

"C-c-catfished," I managed.

"Ooh, that sucks," Mike nodded sympathetically. "Are you gay?"

"Mike, fucking hell," Kit muttered. "Don't be an asshole."

"What? I'm getting to know him!" Mike laughed. "I'm obviously gay." He gestured to all his pride patches and looked at me expectantly.

But I was stuttering again. I wanted to scream at myself. How fucking hard could it be? Yes. The only word I had to say was yes. Mike held up a hand when he saw me struggling and embarrassed.

"Hey, sorry," he said quietly. "I'm an asshole. I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"It's n-n-not th-th-th-th," but that's as far as I could get. I resorted to pulling out my stupid notepad and writing out, "I have a stutter. I'm sorry."

Mike read the note and shrugged.

"You don't need to apologize to me," he told me. "I can wait. Write it or take your time and say it. I don't care."

Kit apparently decided that Mike was minding his manners enough to go back to the bar, but I noticed her keeping an eye on him.

I took a few moments to study my hands, breathe deep, and consciously release the tension. I looked back up into those intoxicating, honey eyes and tried to smile.

"Yes, I'm gay," I answered. Mike's big grin turned radiant. I wondered if I could get sunburn from it.

"Good, good. Because it's a gay bar. I mean, we won't turn the cool straights away, I guess. Can't afford that in a small city like this. All the guys I used to party with are coming, and Kit and Teddy are both queer. They just married straight," Mike explained. I heard Kit scoff, but she just turned away and got back to work. Mike glanced up at her. "What? That's right, isn't it? Smokey gets pissed if I say he went hetero when he married you."

"Sure, Mike," Kit said dismissively. "Maybe the weirdest thing to say to a stranger, but sure."

Mike rolled his eyes behind her back and turned back to me.

"Show me the guy who catfished you," he said. I wanted to say no. I pulled my phone out anyways and showed him with a deep pit of acidic embarrassment still boiling in my stomach. "Oh, he's cute. Is that someone famous? He looks kind of familiar."

"Nicholas Hoult," I provided. I took Mike at his word and spoke very slowly to get the words out. He listened attentively; his smile never faltered. "I didn't r-recognize him. He's in, um, that Netflix movie about the r-restaurant. Whoever set up the p-profile chatted like a n-normal person. I didn't realize."

"Yeah, I would have fallen for it, too. He looks too much like a normal guy," Mike commiserated. "Actually, I fell for a guy using Channing Tatum's torso on Grindr once. I figured it out after he asked me for money. That was pretty humiliating."

"Grindr is r-rancid," I laughed. "I got off of there ages ago."

"I know," Mike said and shrugged. "What else is a slutty fuckboy stuck in a small town supposed to do?"

We chatted and I relaxed enough to ignore the stuttering for a little while. Mike didn't acknowledge when I tripped over a word or struggled through a consonant.

Eventually, the bell on the door alerted to another customer that Mike and Kit greeted. This guy was as tall as Mike, but athletic and muscular instead of graceful. He had dark, wild curls smothered under a beanie and looked like he had come from work with his heavy work boots and oil-streaked tee shirt. He went to lean on the counter and spoke to Kit in Spanish. Just the way they looked at each other was enough to make my lonely, ignored heart ache. He looked at her like his entire world depended on her words. Mike rolled his eyes.

"Ugh, hope you have a sweet tooth. Those two are fucking sickening," he sighed dramatically. "Hey, Smokey! You're giving us all a stomach ache."

The guy ignored Mike until he finished whatever conversation he and Kit were having. He leaned over the counter to kiss her forehead - oh, fuck my heart - and sat at the table next to Mike.

"Hi, I'm Teddy," he said to me and offered his hand.

"Max," I responded and shook.

"Max is coming to my bar opening tonight. You're coming, right? Teddy, my most supportive friend who wants to see me succeed, right?" Mike said.

"Hm, ok," Teddy sighed. "We can't stay late."

"Yeah, yeah, Kit already told me. You're both very responsible, very boring married people. I got it," Mike scoffed.

"Yeah, something like that," Teddy snickered. "What do you do, Max?"

"I'm a p-p-p-" I sighed and looked down at my hands again. Fucking hell. I just wanted to talk to these nice people. I looked back up, expecting Teddy to look annoyed, but he was waiting as patiently as Mike had been. Huh. "Programmer. I design user interfaces."

"Oh, cool," Teddy said. "Is that like contract work or do you work for a company?"

"It's contract work," I said slowly. I was bolstered a bit by their patience. I managed to explain what I did and the relative freedom of choosing my own jobs and hours with only minor stumbles. Ok. This was going ok. I could do it.

...

Mike

I was watching Max carefully explain his work to the ever-attentive Teddy. Fuck, this Max guy was so cute. I was a little surprised with myself. He wasn't my usual type. My type was athletic and confident, my hottest ex Teddy being a great example of that.

Max was quiet and unassuming. He was a lot shorter than me, not that I ever cared much about height either way, with lean arms and intriguing green eyes almost hidden by his shaggy, sandy blonde hair and the thick, square, black-rimmed glasses he wore.

Something about the way he tentatively smiled when I waited patiently, letting him work through the block and get his words out hurt. It spoke of a lifetime of people dismissing him or refusing to hear him on his own terms. It made me feel an unfamiliar sense of protectiveness.

No one would generally expect me to be patient or kind, but I was trying to change that perception of me. I had always been a mouthy asshole, known for burning bridges and spitting thoughtless bullshit. I had hurt enough people, though. I was working hard to be better.

Max was struggling again. Teddy, sweet and patient Teddy, just listened. When Max once again resorted to his notepad, Teddy responded perfectly to that, as well. Fucking perfect 10 Teddy. Maybe Max would still settle for me since he knew Teddy was off the market.

But Max was still glancing shyly at me. That wasn't what I expected. It was hard to stand out in a room when Teddy was there. He had that magnetic charisma that commanded attention even when he wasn't trying. It was hard to even be jealous of him. He was just like that.

Teddy eventually excused himself, saying he needed to get some things done if he was going out that night. He kissed Kit on the cheek, speaking to her entirely in Spanish, and left.

Max looked after him for a moment before he turned back to me.

"When did you t-two date?" Max asked me with a little smirk. I laughed in surprise.

"That obvious?" I said. "Um, like seven or eight years ago. I burned that bridge and salted the earth behind me, though. He's just a friend now."

"Why do you call him Smokey?"

"Oh, his real name is Behr," I answered. "He doesn't like being called Behr, but he'll answer to pretty much anything else."

Max chuckled and flipped idly through the notebook in front of him. It was full of scribbled sentences and few single words written in bold, angry slashes. I didn't like the look of those heavier pages. It looked like a record of frustration and struggle.

"Hey," I started. Max looked up at me with his sparkling green eyes. "I'll be really busy tonight with the opening, but would you like to grab a drink with me on another night? Or coffee. Or dinner. Whatever, really."

Max blinked in surprise. He looked back down at his hands, the way I saw him do before when he was struggling with his stutter. After opening his mouth and closing it a few times, he growled in frustration and flipped the notebook open to the first page where he had neatly written out several useful phrases.

He tapped, "Please be patient. I have a speech disorder."

"That's ok, take your time," I told him.

He looked a little relieved and then tapped two other phrases, "Yes," and, "Text me?"

I handed him my phone with a blank contact open, "Definitely. Can you put in your number?"

Max entered his number, then his own phone lit up and he grinned at me.

"N-now I h-have your n-n-n, fuck, yours. Now I h-have yours," he said and grimaced. I decided not to acknowledge it. He seemed to prefer it that way.

"I want to stay and talk," I said after realizing how long I had been sitting there. "But I have to get stuff ready for tonight. I'll make sure I stop and say hi, ok? Text me?"

Max just nodded, but he was grinning at me. Wow. He had the cutest smile. God, I was going to have to figure out how to keep him smiling or I might just die.

...

Max

Bars were always a double-edged sword. Loud enough that I didn't really have to talk, but also so loud that I couldn't focus enough to form words anyways.

Mike's bar, Kingfisher, wasn't so loud when I got there. It was a little before the actual opening. I was nervous. I didn't want to be late. Which was objectively ridiculous. Mike had half the town coming. He wasn't going to notice if I was there the moment he opened the door.

Except, he definitely noticed. He unlocked the door for the small early crowd, ushering them in and greeting most of them by name until he got to me at the end. I was, unsurprisingly, speechless. Mike was in a gray button up with the sleeves rolled up to reveal surprisingly muscular forearms, half tucked into jeans that fit him so well they had to be tailored. I blinked at him dumbly until he threw an arm around my shoulders and walked me inside, chattering about how excited he was that I came and telling me to order anything I wanted on his tab.

"Th-th-th-" I started and couldn't stop it. Aw, fuck. I snapped my teeth together on the repeating syllable like I could bite the whole exchange back. Mike waited like he had all the time in the world and not a bar quickly filling with people that he needed to impress. I gave up on answering and just smiled.

Mike saw through it. He took me to the bar and handed me a printed menu with a grin. He went to the other end of the bar to speak to the young, impeccably dressed bartender before pulling him over to me.

"Diego, this is Max," he introduced me. "Anything he orders is on my tab tonight." Diego nodded and then turned away to take someone else's order. Mike leaned in to speak quietly to me, "You can just point at the menu or write it down if you need to. I told Diego to be cool about it."

I wasn't sure how to feel about that. I had been navigating the world with my speech disorder for thirty-two years, I didn't need Mike to problem solve for me. But it also felt nice to be accommodated without having to ask or look rude. I settled on being a little embarrassed, but also touched that he was trying so hard.

"I'm sorry, I have to make my rounds. Enjoy yourself, ok?" Mike said and slipped off into the crowd.

When Diego got back, I tapped my notebook where I had written out my order with a sense of dread in my stomach. Diego just smiled his big customer service smile at me and took my order.

...

Mike

He came. Max came. I was stomping down on the stupid giddy butterflies. I was way too old to have a crush like this. I had almost convinced myself I wouldn't care if he showed up or not until he was standing there at the back of the early crowd with his hands in his pockets and that cute, shy smile.

I had prepped all of the staff. No one was going to rush him or make him feel bad that night. I put Diego on watch for him because I trusted him the most. He had years of bartending experience and had worked at one of the bars that I consulted for before I very quietly sniped him. He assured me that Max would have a great night and perfect service.

I had too much to do so I couldn't hover, which was probably for the best. I checked on him about an hour later. He was still at the bar, sitting with his back to it so he could watch the room with an amused smile. I hopped onto the stool next to him and tapped his half empty glass.

"What are you drinking?"

"Seltzer and lime," he told me and shrugged. "I'm not a b-b-big drinker."

"Diego knows tons of really good nonalcoholic cocktails. He used to be one of those bartenders that called himself a mixologist," I suggested.

"Mike, I'm s-s-struggling to order seltzer. You think I can order off menu?" Max chuckled. "Your staff are v-v-v," he paused and took a slow breath before starting again, "they're well trained. Didn't kn-know you had an accessible b-bar."

"I have a bar where I want everyone to feel welcome," I told him. "We're all still learning. What do you like? Sweet? Spicy? Fruity?"

"Not too s-sweet, botanical is n-n-n, it's good," Max answered. He seemed a little less worried about stuttering in front of me. That was nice. It fed the weird, needy part of me that wanted to earn his smile.

I motioned Diego over and described what Max wanted. Diego grinned. He loved getting to improvise. Whatever he made was a beautiful, pale lavender color with a sprig of rosemary decorating it. Max sipped it curiously and grinned. Aw, fuck yeah. I could live off that smile.

"Th-th-thanks," he told Diego and squeezed my forearm a little. I felt warmth creep up in my face. Oh, God, he touched me and I

blushed

. I was being ridiculous.

"What is that?" I asked Diego. He just shrugged. "Ok, how does he order another one?"

"It's a Max Spritzer," Diego laughed and winked at Max before going back to the paying customers.

"There's Kit and Teddy," I pointed them out. "You know Kit? I don't think I ever actually got an answer to that."