Tit for Tat

## Meta

**Timing:** a few weeks (max) after "Not a Date"

**Setting:** That same coffee shop across the street from the University of Sydney (why I jokingly refer to this arc as "This Is Not a Coffee Shop AU, We Swear")

## Text

Charlie slips inside the shop, shaking raindrops from her braid, sighs at the queue.

Sometimes this place is just too crowded, but the cocoa is excellent.

Thunder rattles the building.

The place is dry, too, which is a bonus tonight.

So she builds a V6 engine from the nuts up on the shuffle to the counter.

Finally makes it to the cashier, puts in her request to fill her cup with cocoa.

The clerk hands it back and the smell is /**heavenly**.

She holds it to her lips, scans the roomful of damp people for an empty seat.

Charlie shrugs and parks in the lone empty place, at a table for two across from someone hiding behind a laptop screen. She scoots her chair into place, digs a textbook from her backpack, and thunks it onto the table.

The someone jerks; their head pops up over the screen.

"Hi!" says Jackson, grinning and slamming the laptop closed.

Charlie acknowledges—/**seriously**, life?—reaches for her notebook.

"It's kinda weird, ay? Us bumping into each other like this? I mean, you're not on your way to class at this time of day." Pauses, brightens. "You're on your way /**home** from class!"

Her jaw tightens.

"I'm not— I didn't— I just—" Jackson rubs his neck. "I'm being weird again."

Charlie digs out a bundle of highlighters and a pencil.

"Sorry."

Charlie nods, opens the textbook.

"Sooo ... you're studying?"

"Exams."

"Oh! Right." Chuckles weakly. That time of year." Clears his throat. "'m on a deadline, too. I got thrown out of the office and I /**really** need to finish this tonight—"

"So," Charlie ends a line with a flourish, "you shut your laptop." Looks his way, eyebrow raised.

"Uh." Stares at it. "Yea, I did."

And that's a blush.

Jackson scrubs his face. "I needed a break."

Charlie hides a smile behind her cup.

Jackson's chair scrapes back. "I'm getting a refill," he announces. "Do you want another cocoa? I'll get you—"

Charlie takes a pointed sip.

"You just sat down." Jackson's turned a lively shade of crimson.

"Mmhmm."

"Right. Sorry." Looks mournfully at his coffee cup. "I still need a refill." He twitches toward the counter, ducks his head. "You won't leave, will you?"

Charlie shrugs, jots a note.

Jackson flutters a moment, then darts off.

One, two, three, four—

"I am an idiot~." Jackson snatches up his cup, sprints away.

She /**almost** smiles.

Jackson returns as she finishes the section, sliding into place behind the laptop and opening it.

Charlie starts on the next paragraph, sips cocoa, spins her pencil meditatively.

Jackson's tapping comes to a halt.

[Charlie jots down a question--] >or no new paragraph<

Motion in her peripheral catches her eye.

Jackson, spinning a stylus, his furrowed brow visible.

She snorts.

He peeks over the screen, eyebrow quirked.

Charlie spins her pencil.

Jackson smiles. "Yea, I do that, too, when I get stuck." Sighs. "And I'm very, very stuck right now." Spins the stylus again. "Would you, maybe, mind taking a look at this? Maybe a second set of eyes will help."

Charlie sighs, gestures for the laptop.

Jackson beams, pushes it over. "Figure this out and I'll buy you dinner. It's—"

"A filtration system for a small recirculating pump."

Jackson blinks. "Y-yea. That's— I usually do toy prototypes, but our machine guy is out—"

Charlie taps something, pushes the computer back. "There."

"What'd you do?" Squints at the screen.

"Three of the bolts were backward. Screen wouldn't fit that way."

He deflates. "Oh." Rubs his neck. "'s what I get for following a client's napkin sketch."

Charlie almost laughs.

Jackson looks up through his lashes and smiles. "When?"

"For what?"

"For dinner. Your reward? 'You fix my model, I buy you dinner', remember?"

"Don't remember agreeing to that."

"It's a free meal. You're a student. How can you refuse?"

Charlie drowns another smile with a drink of cocoa. Heaves a long-suffering sigh. "Fine. Saturday night."

Jackson lights up like a fireworks display. "Awe/**some**," he says. "I know /**just** the place. I'll meet you here, say, eighteen-thirty?"

This Is Not a Coffee Shop AU, We Swear: Cocoa — Productivity — Rom-Com — Not a Date — Drama Llama — Work Fast — **Tit for Tat** — Pretty Good — Sparklers