ReaderXMike

Written at the request of moonlightwolf15

Insert loud, pig-like squeal here.

Oh my God, _______! Are you ready for your big, exciting first date with Mike?

Yes, this is the right coffee shop. It smells like whipped cream, coffee beans, and pretentious hipsters. A few are sitting at tables, intently staring at glowing laptop screens through green, square-shaped sunglasses lenses. As you get closer, try not to attack the front shop window like a filter feeding fish. Seriously, it's true that Mike is a pretty handsome catch, but come on...You'll get banned from the coffee shop for spreading saliva and lipstick all over the glass as well as make a horrible first impression on Mike...

The first, honestly, wouldn't be a very significant loss, though....Remember the last time you came here? To this day, that angry biker holds an intense grudge against you for telling him that his Muppets script would never become a feature-length film. You swallow the giant lump in your throat as you enter; he's been sending you bragging rights brand e-mails ever since the most recent Muppets film came out. Every time the box office numbers jump, your insides knot just a little bit more.

“La Cucaracha” bellows out of a loudspeaker as you walk in. Suddenly, the baristas turn and look over the counter, welcoming you with creepy wide eyes and big smiles. They don ponchos and nab sombreros, stamp over towards where you're standing, then throw down the hats. As they start dancing in an incredibly offensive display, an older, wrinkled man, the owner, hands you a tall coffee cup....It's a caramel latte with multi-colored gummy...cockroaches sprinkled in and throughout the whipped cream...

“I...” You can't summon the right words to properly express your utter horror and disgust.

“Our competitor was shut down due to a horrible health violation,” he announces with unmitigated glee. “And do you know what that health violation was...?”

He smiles in an unnervingly impish way and wiggles his bushy brows. Nervously, you squeak and shake your head, staring intently at the gummies, knowing you'll have horrible nightmares tonight.

“Cockroachesssss!” the owner hisses, then claps his hands, and laughs derisively.

“Roaches!” his employees echo, raising their arms and flapping their jazz hands.

Shuddering, your hands shake. Tears start collecting at the edges of your eyes; your heart is a jackhammer in your chest, slamming your rib cage against your skin. Oh, you want to stay for Mike, but this coffee shop is the living manifestation of every personal fear and horror you know. First, the memory of offending that biker...now facing the gummy version of the one insect that ignites the most ferocious glimmers of your entomophobia...?

“Hey, _______!” calls a familiar voice, touched by a slight country boy drawl.

There's...Scott, wearing a black blazer and a sombrero, happily chomping into one of the gummies. A cringe erupts and shimmies down your spine.

“S-scott...?” you sputter.

“You gonna drink that?” He points at the coffee.

Frowning, you just stare at him; his tank top and blazer are stained with chocolate ice cream. The white frosting all over his cheeks, coupled with the red dot on his nose, and the red tear stains around his eyes make him look like a clown. A very depressed clown. Did he break up with Courtney...again...for the sixteenth time this week?

Feeling pity, you hand him the coffee. He unceremoniously rips off the plastic top, then drinks the entire beverage in one go, looking like a frat boy substituting chocolate for alcohol.

“Hey...Scott?”

He has coffee stains all over his front...including the front of his jeans now, too. Even though you're not particularly fond of this fellow cast member of yours, you think he deserves to know that he looks like an incredible fool. You swallow the warning, though, as soon as he pins you with a venomous glare. “What?!”

“Have you seen Mike?” you prompt meekly.

“Yeah...He's in the ball pit.”

“What?” You blink several times.

“Ball. Pit.” He repeats this very slowly and deliberately, spitting in your face.

“Thank you,” you reply through gritted teeth, desperately wanting to kick him in the nads Heather-World-Tour style.

“You're welcome!” he calls back smugly as you storm away. You clench your fists and crack your knuckles, grumbling and cursing under your breath. Farm Boy was so lucky that you felt sympathy towards him being Courtney's new on-again, off-again beau.

Heels clacking on the tile, you wander across the coffee shop in the direction of the little kid's designated section. The owner was notorious for being the human version of Spongebob's Mr. Krabs, so, of course, his coffee shop was one of the few places left in the entire world that had a Pink Eye-ridden and disease-spreading cesspool of a ball pit.

Much to your chagrin, Scott was right: In the midst of a sea of screaming rugrats and vibrantly colored plastic balls, was the lanky Mike...And, even more strange, a very eager and desperate looking Alejandro.

Despite the surreal situation, you were checking Mike out: He'd taken time out to slick back his hair, was wearing a light blue button down shirt, and khakis. You preferred his hair spontaneous and spiky, but your heart melted like a stick of butter in a sizzling pan. Oh, it was pretty much confirmed that he shared your feelings; maybe you could have gotten away with planting your face against the front window and trying to filter-feed!

The two of you first met during Revenge of the Island: He'd tripped over a mutated chipmunk, prompting the rodent to electrify the two of you into charcoal bacon. Mike had spent the next two days trying to make it up to you; he was so sweet and cute, you'd been absolutely smitten with him since then!

“ _______!” he called out, surprised. As he studied you, a silly smile snaked onto his face and he started blushing. “You...you look so gorgeous!”

As you blush and bashfully pull at the fabric of your dress, a little blond boy looks up at the two of you, utterly disgusted. You just roll your eyes as he rushes off, screaming for a trash can at the top of his lungs.

“Th-Thank you...” you manage to say, tugging on a lock of your hair. “You look really...” You swallow as your heartbeat pounds in your ears. “...handsome.”

“Thank you!” he replies, face breaking out in a face-splitting grin. “I'm sorry I wasn't out in the main lobby...I got kind of caught up back here.”

“What the hell is going on?!” you cry, slightly exasperated. You just want to step in, trudge through the balls, grab his hand, then drag him to a new, different, and quieter location. Between how loud the little kids are, and Alejandro yelping, “Money! Money! Money!” every few seconds, you're surprised you can hear Mike at all.

“Do you...really want to know?”

“Um...yes!”

“The owner claims that he hid a hundred dollar bill in the ball pit...” Mike admits sheepishly. “A hundred dollar coffee bill. Find it and...free coffee for a month!”

“What?” Alejandro looks up, pupils a pair of bowling balls. “It's not actual money?!”

“So, you're not a fellow coffee enthusiast, Alejandro?” Mike gibes.

“No, he's definitely a pineapple enthusiast, though!” you chime in, grinning.

“That happened a year ago!” he growls, his face a bright red tomato.

“...On national TV,” you remind him, grinning impishly.

“I don't remember you being quite this obnoxious,” Alejandro quips. “And, to think, you were one of my favorites in the cast, _______. Quiet and unobtrusive. What happened?”

“Leave her alone!” Mike snaps, glaring at Alejandro. “She's just joshing with you.”

“Ah, he's fine,” you defer, even though you're secretly raging. “He's just mad that this place doesn't serve pineapple pizza.”

“Stop it with the pineapple references!” Alejandro's face is dark red now.

“Geez...I never knew you were so sensitive, Alejandro. Sorry.”

“Hey, _______, mind helping me find this redeemable coupon?” Mike cuts in sheepishly. “I really adore the coffee here!”

“We can just use my coupon,” you reply coyly, reaching into your purse and pulling out the slip of paper. “That's...originally what I planned on.”

“You are so sweet!” Mike gushes as he carefully makes his way to exit the pit. “Since this is our first date, though, I insist on treating you.”

“No, let me-”

“I insist,” Mike cuts in as he finally exits. “I...know I didn't exactly make the best first impression. I'm surprised you're still here after watching me dig through a bunch of plastic balls for a...redeemable coupon...”

“I've seen you at your worst, Mike,” you laugh. “I liked you from the very first day we met. You're really nice, a total sweetie pie, quirky, and loyal. My favorite type of guy! I've only grown closer and closer to you over the course of our crazy misadventures. Those didn't drive me away, so why would an obsession with coffee and a pink eye infested ball pit change my mind?”

“That was as friends, though...” Mike protested, blushing and tapping his fingers together.

“I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to take things one step further.”

“ _______, you're so cool...” Mike sighed.

“Let's not forget the very emotional, heartfelt, and eloquent speech our favorite Don Juan here delivered on television,” Alejandro cut in, smirking. “Truly, I was impressed by your unexpected mastery of the English language and your sense of romance, Mike.”

“None of us are in the next season, Alejandro,” you quipped, glaring at him.

“What does that have to do with anything going on now?” he responds glibly.

You sigh, shaking your head. Then you reach out and take Mike's hand. “He has a point...That speech was...really touching.”

Mike giggles a little, lacing his fingers through yours.

“Kiss her!” Alejandro trumpets.

“Wh-what?!” Mike quails.

“Kiss her, my good man!” Alejandro elaborates. “Every time I saw either of you, you were together. Even throughout the Mal debacle, she stayed by your side, all the way through to the resolution. And...” He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “If I remember correctly, you both declared your undying love for each other in the finale. The two of you are lovers, express it!”

Even though you didn't want to admit it, Alejandro had a valid point. When you looked at Mike, it wasn't the stirring butterflies of a schoolgirl crush in your chest, it was the yearning, crying bellow of a fat opera singer. That very opera singer burst out in a bright, loud aria as you watched your own deep wells of emotion unfold on Mike's face. You lost yourself in those chocolate eyes.

Then the two of you leaned in...closer...closer...You almost didn't want to close your eyes because of wanting to see that contemplative, thoughtful expression on Mike's face as he puckered his lips.

“The hundred is mine!” Alejandro crows gleefully.

Pure bliss hits as your lips meet Mike's. What girl cares about a measly hundred dollars when she has Mike?