“Come here often?”

The youthful bright voice nearly made the man jump out of his skin. He had been trying to slip out of the house of his latest in a long line of one-night stands unnoticed. No awkward morning talk or questions. No when am I going to see you again? The man sighed. So much for that plan.

I knew I shouldn’t have come home with that Damn Bartender.

He turned towards the kitchen to see the owner of the questioning voice was a young boy, perched on a tall barstool. He couldn’t have been older than eight years old. He was a handsome child, despite his dark blonde hair sticking out in every direction. He sat there calmly gazing at the man. It that more than anything caught his attention; piercing blue eyes that shone like a glass still pond.

He’s got the same eyes as the Damn Bartender!

“You don’t have to sneak out you know. I’m the only one ever awake this early on a Sunday morning,” the boy flashed a toothy grin. “Can I interest you in a cup of coffee?”

Coffee sounds magical. “Um. Yeah, sure.”

The boy hopped from the stool gesturing for the man to have a seat.

Polite little guy.

“I can put it in a travel cup if you still want to bolt,” the boy said when the man didn’t make a move.

Not to be bested by a child he took the seat. The boy made his way to the counter and the full coffee machine. The man watched as he pulled from a stack of disposable travel cups.

“Do you take it with cream? Sugar?”

The man smiled at the mini-barista. “Milk and a little sugar will do.”

What the hell is going on here? Las night I followed that Damn Bartender here for sex, good sex, he amended, and now some little kid is serving me coffee like this happens everyday.Wait, does this happen everyday?

The boy promptly brought his coffee as ordered and sat at another stool across the table. He looked at the man like he was waiting for something.

Realization quickly dawned on the man. He looks just like the Damn Bartender!

“So,” he went fishing, “you live here with family?”

The boy rolled his eyes. “Who else would I live with?”

Snarky little shit. He took a sip. Good quality. “You make a decent cup of coffee kid.”

“Its good to know I have a fallback in the service industry,” the boy deadpanned. 

“How old are you?”

“Younger than my vocabulary lets on,” the boy smiled again.

An awkward silence fell. To look at the boy one would think that he felt as at ease in it as in conversation. Clearly he was well practiced.

What the hell was the Damn Bartender’s name? “So you related to da-uh-the bartender?”

He saw the boy’s eyes dart away for a second over his shoulder before he answered. “You mean Kurt? Yeah you could say that. I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name.”

“Eric,” the man supplied. The kid must be is younger brother.

“Eric,” a familiar soft voice echoed from behind him.

And there was the Damn Bartender; Kurt his name was Kurt, leaning against the doorframe wearing a red woolen robe.

Eric quickly looked between the man and the boy. They could be identical if they were the same age!

“I see you’ve met Justin,” Kurt continued, “my son.”