the rain hammered against the glass of the diner, a relentless sound that made the small space feel like an island in the middle of a dark, rising sea. the fluorescent lights hummed overhead, flickering just enough to be annoying, but you didn't mind. you were busy wiping down the counter for the third time, the scent of lemon cleaner and old coffee clinging to the air.

at the far end of the counter, happy sat like a statue carved from leather and ink. his black vest creaked slightly as he shifted, his large hands wrapped around a mug that had gone cold twenty minutes ago. he hadn't said a word since he’d walked in at the tail end of your shift, his dark, intense eyes following the movement of your hands rather than the window.

you checked the clock. it was well past closing.

"i'm about to lock up, hap," you said, tossing the rag into the bucket. you leaned against the counter, looking at him. "you want a refill for the road, or are you just hiding from the storm?"

happy didn't look at the window. his gaze stayed fixed on you, heavy with an unspoken understanding that always made your heart stutter.

"wait 'til it lets up," he muttered. his voice was a low growl, rough and grounding.

"i've got an umbrella. i'll be fine," you countered, reaching for your cardigan. you were used to the rain, and you were used to the long walk to the back lot, even if the puddles were deep enough to soak through your shoes.

happy stood up. the movement was slow and deliberate, his tall, muscular frame casting a long shadow across the checkered floor. he looked intimidating, his presence filling the empty diner until it felt small. his boots thudded against the tile as he rounded the stool, stepping closer.

"i'm not asking," he said, his tone final. he gestured toward the display case with a tilt of his head. "sit. eat the last slice of pie. i'll wait."