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camdenspice · 2 years

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better company

hiii here's camgeria as a treat for miss camdens bday<3 v dialogue heavy and also not proofread i apologise in advance

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Three hours. That’s how long the woman with the corner table has been sitting alone, and how long Angeria has been trying not to stare at her. Three slow, painful hours of the woman picking up her phone and putting it back down again and purposefully avoiding eye contact with the increasingly exhausted staff.

Angeria doesn’t know how many times she and her coworkers have gone over to her table, tight smiles on their faces, and asked if she was ready to order. Each time, they would receive the same reply in a polite, English voice: “Oh, no, thank you. I’m waiting for someone.”

With closing time swiftly approaching, and no other customers left in the restaurant, Angeria (and anyone with a brain) can confidently say that this someone is decidedly not going to show. The woman, however, has not budged from her seat.

Her insistence on waiting around for what feels like forever isn’t the only reason Angeria finds it hard to look away, though.

She’s also horrendously gorgeous.

Long, blonde hair that falls over her shoulders in waves. Eyes that feel like they’re piercing Angeria’s soul whenever (to Angeria’s utter embarrassment) accidental eye contact is made. Toned leg peeking through the slit in her black dress that is doing wonders for her figure.

Angeria wonders who on Earth would stand someone like that up, besides a person with no eyes or something.

“This is torture,” a voice mutters by Angeria’s ear, startling her out of her thoughts. She turns to see Willow has sidled up beside her, hair falling out of her bun and chewing on her cheek. Her eyes bounce in the direction of the corner table and back, as if Angeria needs any hints to what she’s talking about.

“Tell me about it,” Angeria sighs. She turns her head to look again. The woman is staring out of the floor-to-ceiling window beside her, twirling her hair between her fingers. “You have to admire the dedication, though.”

“The delusion, more like,” Daya huffs, sliding into the conversation with her coworkers. “Like, come on, surely she knows they’re not showing.” She cleans the inside of a wine glass with unnecessary aggression.

Willow smirks at her. “You’re just mad we can’t close up early, so you have to wait longer to see Bosco.”

“Yeah, I am,” Daya concedes, scowling at the woman keeping her from getting home to her girlfriend. Suddenly, she puts the glass and rag down. “This is ridiculous. I’m going over.”

Angeria grabs her arm before she can stomp off. “Absolutely not. Do you want to get written up for making a customer cry again?”

“That was literally one time–”

“I’ll go,” Angeria says firmly. Daya rolls her eyes, but picks the glass back up when Angeria lets go of her arm.

“Fine, but don’t do your southern-hospitality shtick. I’m tired and cranky and need to go home.”

Angeria smacks the back of Daya’s head as she passes her. “It’s not a shtick, it’s my natural charm,” she says, making Willow laugh as she makes her way out the side of the bar and towards the corner table.

Once she’s approached the table, Angeria waits for the woman to acknowledge her presence. She’s still staring outside, foot tapping rhythmically against the floor. Angeria hesitates for a second before laying a hand on her shoulder and softly saying, “Ma’am?”

The woman instantly whips her head around like she’s been shocked. Her clear, blue eyes dart around for a second before looking up to meet Angeria’s brown ones. Angeria feels her face go hot at the eye contact, and she takes a step backwards.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

The woman blinks for a second before seemingly composing herself. “It’s okay. Just lost in thought,” she says, accompanied with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

Angeria feels a wave of pity rush through her. She points to the empty chair across from the woman. “Mind if I sit?”

“Not at all,” the woman replies.

Angeria pulls the wooden chair out and settles down onto it. “I’m Angie,” she says, inwardly cringing at herself when she awkwardly reaches a hand across the table. The woman doesn’t appear to notice, politely shaking her hand.

“Camden,” she replies. Angie pulls her hand away and, to her embarrassment, realises how sweaty it is. Why am I sweating? Why am I so nervous? This is ridiculous. I should just tell this lady - Camden - that we’re closing and she needs to leave.

Instead, she tilts her head and rests her chin in her hand. “So,” she says, “date stood you up?”

Excellent tact, Angie.

Camden smiles wryly. “How could you tell?” The smile then slips away, and her entire face falls. She groans loudly and puts her head in her hands. “I look like such a fucking idiot, right?”

“No!” Angeria says quickly. Maybe a little too quickly, judging by Camden groaning even louder and covering her face.

“Fucking hell, what a waste,” Camden says. It comes out muffled through her hands. When she raises her head up, Angeria sees mascara running down her cheeks. She hurriedly grabs one of the napkins on the table and hands it to Camden, who thanks her faintly and dabs at her tears.

“Hey,” Angeria leans forward and takes one of Camden’s hands. She notes that they’re freshly manicured. “Hey, listen. You’re not the idiot here, yeah? Whoever didn’t show is.”

Camden looks at her through wet eyelashes. Her hand grips Angeria’s a little tighter. “You’re sweet,” she sniffles, “but you know I look stupid. You all do. The way you’ve all been looking at me the entire evening makes that clear.” The words are biting, but her tone is soft, almost embarrassed.

“I’m sorry,” Angeria winces. “We were mainly just… confused.”

“No, no, I get it,” Camden sighs, slipping her hand out of Angeria’s and using it to play with the ends of her hair. “I would be, too. I just thought… Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I should get out of your hair.”

Even though this was the entire purpose of talking to her, Angeria shakes her head emphatically. “No, it’s okay. Closing isn’t for another few minutes, Daya’s just cranky.”

Camden raises an eyebrow. “Is that the tall one who’s been staring me down?”

“Yes. Please excuse her, she has no home training.” Camden huffs out a laugh at that, and Angeria smiles. “Besides, you look like you could use someone to talk to.”

Camden wipes her eyes, further smearing her mascara, and half-heartedly grins at Angeria. “You’re cute.” Angeria flushes and looks down at the table. There’s a comfortable silence that follows, only permeated by the sounds of quiet sniffling.

Suddenly, Camden bursts into loud, raucous laughter. Angeria’s eyes widen, and she looks frantically to her coworkers still standing behind the bar, both of whom seem just as alarmed as she is at this potential psychiatric break. Angeria turns back to Camden, who is now laughing so hard that she’s banging the table with her hand.

Angeria sits and watches for a minute, a little scared to interject in case this really is a psychiatric break, until Camden finally starts to calm down, her laughter turning into little giggles.

“Do you know-” she gasps out, apparently unpetured by Angeria’s obvious confusion, “-what day it is?”

“Uh… Tuesday?” Angeria answers, which makes Camden giggle again. Angeria does not appreciate how that sound makes her heart start racing.

“Well, yes, I suppose,” Camden says, “but it’s actually my birthday.”

Angeria’s eyes widen. “Oh. Uh, happy birthday.”

Camden smiles at her warmly. “Thank you. But, yeah, it’s my birthday, and instead of going out with my friends and get absolutely pissed and taking photos looking like a hot slut, I made plans with someone who stood me up. On my fucking birthday.” She throws her hands up in exasperation. “Do you see why I was so hesitant to leave? ‘Cause, like, hello, it’s my birthday. Who stands someone up on their birthday?

“Say birthday one more time.”

“Birthday,” Camden laughs, appreciating the lighthearted interruption.

Angeria shakes her head sympathetically. “I’m sorry, sugar. They’re a piece of shit.”

Camden leans back into her chair and crosses her arms. “Serves me right, I guess. I can’t seem to pick people who aren’t pieces of shit.” She points at her scalp. “I bleached my hair for this girl who hated my natural colour. We weren’t even dating - it was a situationship at best - but she ended up making me so insecure about it that I bleach my hair all the time now.”

“That’s awful,” Angeria scoffs. “I’m sure your natural colour is fine.”

“It’s ginger,” Camden says, pulling a face.

“I love gingers,” Angeria says sincerely.

There’s a pause as Angeria realises what she’s said. One corner of Camden’s mouth lifts into a smirk. “Really?” she says teasingly, starting to twirl her hair with her fingers again.

Somehow, Angeria finds her voice. “Yeah,” she replies, trying not to look as flustered as she feels. “Love ‘em.”

Camden bites her lip in what appears to be an attempt to keep from smiling too wide. “Interesting. You know, I’m into darker hair myself.”

“Really?”

“Really. And accents. Thick accents.”

Angeria cannot believe this beautiful woman is flirting with her, but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t grab her chance. “That’s so crazy, I was just about to say the same thing.” Camden does that little giggle again, and Angeria is surprised she hasn’t melted into a puddle on the floor for Willow to mop up. “I’m also famously not a piece of shit,” she adds.

“Hm. Sounds like I should just date someone like you, then.”

“Sounds like you should.”

They are swiftly interrupted by keys slamming onto the table. Angeria looks up to see Daya towering over her, her eyebrows raised so far up her forehead Angeria was afraid they might disappear into her hairline. “What did I say about the southern-hospitality shtick?”

Angeria’s cheeks burn red, and she swats at Daya, who skillfully dodges it. “I do not–”

“Whatever,” Daya sticks her tongue out at her. “Willow and I are going. You’re in charge of closing.” She turns to Camden and nods sympathetically. “Sorry about your night, dude.”

“It’s cool. I found better company anyway,” Camden grins, winking at Angeria. Daya smirks at her blushing friend before making her way towards the door where Willow is waiting, a knowing smile on her face. They call out their goodbyes, the door closes, and Angeria and Camden are alone.

“I should go,” Camden sighs, turning her phone on to check the time. From her upside-down view, Angeria can see her lock screen is Camden and another girl with a giant smile in what appears to be a dance studio. Camden slips her phone into the handbag that had been lying by the side of her chair and stands up, Angeria following her movements.

Camden slings the strap of her bag over her shoulder and beams at Angeria. The smudged mascara around her eyes makes her slightly insane, but Angeria can hardly mind when Camden steps forward and cups Angeria’s cheek with her hand.

“Thank you,” Camden says quietly. “You made this birthday so much better than it would have been otherwise.” She leans in and plants a kiss on Angeria’s cheek. It’s a gesture so soft, so tender, and Angeria knows she’s utterly fucked.

Camden steps back, shoots her another smile, and starts to walk towards the door. Fueled by nothing but desperation to keep Camden close to her, and maybe also a little horniness, Angeria turns around and grabs onto Camden’s wrist.

“Wait,” she urges. Camden blinks at her owlishly as she drops her wrist and runs behind the bar. Once she’s grabbed her bag, Angeria rushes back to where Camden has obediently waited. She nabs the keys Daya had left for her and, meeting Camden’s gaze, manages to blurt out, “What if I could make your birthday even better?”

Camden’s eyes widen in excitement. “And how would you go about doing that?”

In lieu of answering, Angeria takes her hand and leads her towards the door. Camden steps out into the warm August night as Angeria turns off the lights and follows her. As she’s locking the door, Angeria feels arms wrap around her waist and a voice say, “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Well,” Angeria smiles, “you could come home with me and find out.”

A brief pause.

“Sounds good to me.”

#first like. proper fic ive shared everyone clap #did not proofread btw am fuckin tired #this is kind of meet ugly #happy birthday cam #rpdr s14 #lady camden #angeria paris vanmicheals #camgeria #might write a part 2 Eyes Emoji

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bicaptkirk · 9 months

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He couldn't look people in the eyes as a kid. There was too much and too little there for him to process, and never with much success. His mom taught him a trick so it appeared to people he was looking them in the eye.

"You're gonna look at the tip of their nose," she said, tapping him on the edge of his nose. He scrunched his face up, smiling at his mom's antics. "They'll never know the difference," she adds.

And he did get away with it. In school, a few little league games he played, and even through a few short conversations with his dad. However, the only person he could look in the eyes was his mom.

He knew he could cause her eyes were always on him. She watched him catch the biggest wave he ever had, clapping and cheering from the sandy shoreline. He rushed up to her in excitement, meeting the same cerulean eyes like looking in a mirror.

"Did you see, mom, did you see," he screams in excitement.

"Of course, baby. I'm always watching you," she smiles and kisses the top of his head, "I love you 'til the sun dies," she says squeezing him into a hug.

He wishes he could take her smile and shove it in a bottle with the sand and saltwater of the beach they're on. After that moment, the smiles come far and few between. Her looks become quick glances and the smile he always loved never reaches her eyes.

As his dad gets more mean and loud and physical, he starts seeing different things in her eyes. Fear, first, because he's also felt it too without warning, too many times to count. Anger, his mom trying to fight fire with fire trying to match his dad's energy. Sadness, coming to believe that what he knows is true, the smiles she had for him will likely never come back.

The worst look he sees from her is something he doesn't recognize at first. He sees bits and pieces of it, an underlying emotion buried in the one's he's used to now. He doesn't put it together until the night he was begging into the phone for her to come back for him. He soon realized the last thing he saw in his mother's eyes was pity.

He didn't want it. He didn't want her to think of him as a broken boy, beyond saving. So, from that moment on, he looked everyone dead in the eyes. Strong and solid, blank as possible to avoid giving them any power over him. If he could trick people into seeing nothing in his, he could read everything theirs held; he'd have the upper hand. He'll never have to guess what they were feeling, he could face it

inspired by don't look at me that way by flora cash

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove fic #ficlet #stranger things #i've written something for the first time in forever!!!!#*everyone claps*#had this idea for like forever after hearing the song so i hope it's enjoyable #marija writes

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