Archive of Our Own ^beta

Katie sips her water and frowns. She glances over at Michael, who is making accordions out of the paper from his straw and dripping water on it, and then across the table to the two empty chairs in front of them.

“I wonder where Daniel and Soren are… again,” she groans.

“Probably fucking in Soren’s backseat,” Michael says nonchalantly.

Katie nearly chokes on an ice cube. “What? Why- why would you say that?”

“Are you kidding me?” He doesn’t even bother looking up from his arts and crafts project. “How have you not noticed? Look, it’s all soggy now!”

Katie slugs his shoulder. “Michael! This is a serious accusation you’ve just made! You really think they’re sleeping together?”

He laughs, although it’s really more of a shout at the ceiling. “I know they are!”

“Where is your evidence?” she asks, suddenly very interested in what Michael has to say.

“Well, a-Your Honor,” he says, bowing slightly and gesturing widely with one arm. “I have all my evidence here with me. Exhibit A!” Michael quickly unlocks his phone and pulls up a photo, and Katie wonders how he can be so coordinated only when he’s determined to prove himself right.

“Okay, that’s a photo of you with french fries up your nose,” Katie says, shaking her head. The moment has passed. He’s still clumsy.

He quickly swipes left, too excited to be embarrassed of the selfie. “Exhibit A!” he shouts again.

“Son of a bitch… Soren’s arm is around Daniel.” She squints at the grainy, zoomed-in photo. “Where is this from? Is that in the office?”

“Christmas party,” Michael says flatly. “Anyway, I’m prepared to explain to the court the significance of this image!” he adds, jumping seamlessly back into his lawyer character.

“I’ll allow it,” Katie drawls, smiling widely at her own judge impression.

He clears his throat. “As we all know, Daniel O’Brien, or as I like to call him, Deanie O’Beanie-”

“Not a thing,” she interjects.

“It’ll catch on. Anyway, as we all know, Daniel flinches whenever anyone touches him. Last Thanksgiving, his mom hugged him and I saw him look at his watch. But here! Soren!”

“And around his waist, no less…” Katie trails off. “What’s exhibit B?”

“Exhibit B!” Michael’s smile is so wide, his cheeks are turning pink underneath his beard. “This is the fourth time in the past month Soren and Daniel are late together.”

Katie bites her lip and furrows her brow, trying to keep from laughing. “You’ve been keeping track?”

He scoffs. “Only because Daniel wrote me a four-page angry email that time I got concussed and we had to cut our discussion short to go to the ER.”

“Only four pages? That’s shorter than when I got the flu and we had to skip the diner,” she mutters.

“Not the point! My point is that this is the fourth time they’ve both been late and then arrived at the same time.”

Katie puts a finger up. “Objection! Technically, you don’t know if they’ll come together tonight.”

“Ha, come together. They’re probably coming together all over Soren’s car right now,” Michael giggles.

“Gross,” she says, suppressing a chuckle. “Do you have an exhibit C?”

“Sure do! Exhibit C!” he shouts, so loudly the passing busboy drops a dish.

“Sorry about him,” Katie calls as the kid goes to get a broom. “What’s exhibit C?”

“Daniel smells.”

“Aw, Michael, that’s not nice, you know he has a sweating problem,” she scolds.

“No! I mean, yes, but no! He smells like Soren’s cologne!” He nearly knocks Katie’s water over as he waves his arms. “He smells like Soren’s cologne, Katie!”

“How do you even… How can you tell? Whenever we sit here I smell Soren across the table and assume it’s just him.”

“Daniel walked past me today at work- without Soren- and he smelled just like Soren! Same douchey cologne! Daniel doesn’t even wear cologne, remember? Allergies?”

Katie rests her chin in her hand and thinks. “Huh. That… That is weird. Plus Daniel was wearing Soren’s sweatshirt last week, that was weird too…”

“And so, in conclusion, I have proven my thesis that Daniel and Soren are boning, the end, forever and ever amen.” Michael sits up straighter, beaming with pride. “And here comes the guilty party now, together! You owe me twenty bucks, Katie.”

“What? We didn’t bet on this!” She looks through the window to the parking lot, finding Soren and Daniel walking together- and laughing. She gasps, “they’re flirting!”

Michael sits back in his chair. “Told you. I’m like, a detective or a genius or something.” He leans back a bit too far and falls to the floor. “That does not detract from my being right,” he grumbles.

“For once, it doesn’t,” she says. “Shh! They’re at the door!”

Daniel and Soren walk in, and Katie can’t help but notice that Dan’s glasses are crooked and Soren’s shirt is suspiciously wrinkled.

“Sorry we’re late,” Soren grunts, sitting down. “Dan’s stupid car almost ran out of gas.”

“Hey, my car isn’t stupid,” Daniel says sadly, and he’s met with a surprisingly sympathetic look from Soren.

“Well, we had to stop for gas anyway,” Soren says.

Katie nudges Michael’s knee under the table.

Now all that’s left is to bet on when they admit it… or, more likely, when they slip up and get caught.