Archive of Our Own ^beta

1.

Charlie’s always been a fan of the Tesco Meal Deal. A main, a snack, and a drink all for three pounds forty with a Clubcard. A prepared sandwich, wrap, or salad. Some cut fruit or veg, or a packet of crisps or a chocolate bar, or perhaps some herbed green olives or a Peperami. A fizzy drink or a bottled smoothie. The offerings are plentiful and consistent no matter where in the city he might find himself on a particular afternoon, though sometimes are rather picked-over. And always, he will not break the bank over his nutritious, surprisingly delectable meal.

Even if he’s feeling indulgent and goes for something like the bao or organic shawarma-spiced cauliflower salad, the maximum price he will be shelling out to the mega corporation supermarket chain is five quid. Over time, Charlie has learned his body well enough to know when he’s able to push it to a barbeque chicken sandwich and prawn cocktail crisps, or if his brain needs the familiarity of a ham and cheese with pineapple chunks and a diet Coke on the side. 

The predictability of a Tesco Meal Deal is a huge help in Charlie’s eating disorder recovery. Plus, being a busy 30-something with places to be and things to do besides toil away in his small flat’s kitchen every day, Charlie loves the reliability and convenience of what he honestly thinks might be the best thing since sliced bread. 

“Excuse me,” a deep but kind voice seeps through the hypnotic rhythms of Radiohead’s latest remaster bumping over Charlie’s earbuds. The curly-haired man carefully extracts one pod with the hand not holding a metal shopping basket. Charlie turns to see a large, lumbering blond man gently tapping the shoulder of Gladys, the neighborhood Tesco Express’s favorite shelf restocker. She always has the intel on when a fresh batch of sarnies will be put out in the fridge. That is, as long as she’s otherwise left alone and not bothered with any other questions about products or pricing. 

Gladys turns around with a sharp ‘tsk’ and raises her wrinkled and drawn-on eyebrows at the man. Charlie can’t see the customer’s face, but it’s clear from his lack of response to Gladys’ warm greeting that he didn’t pick up on her unspoken hint.

“Uhm, do you have any haggis? My local-”

“No.”

“Oh! Well, do you ever offer-”

“No.” 

“So even if I-”

“No.”

With that, Charlie watches Gladys retreat down the aisle towards the baked goods area, leaving the happy-go-lucky behemoth staring agog after her. Slowly, he turns towards the fridge and assesses the other options. Charlie can state with confidence that any Tesco in the greater London metropolitan area does not, and would never, offer spiced sheep’s offal on malted bread. This guy must not be from around these parts. 

The man reaches for a chicken and bacon Caesar salad, but opts for a coronation chicken sandwich in a last second switch. An understandably brave choice for an apparently brave man, who had not only dared approach Gladys mid-shift, but admitted that he was seeking out the notorious traditional food of Scotland. Charlie isn't surprised by the man’s somewhat questionable runner-up choice of main.

What he is surprised by, however, is his Adonis-like features silhouetted in profile by the harsh fluorescent overhead lighting. His strong brow knits in consternation as he assesses what’s left of the snack choices. 

Doing his best to act casual and not openly stare at the beautiful man, Charlie grabs his meal deal and retreats to the self checkout with haste, but without really thinking through what he’s choosing. He ends up with a Lucozade Energy Orange, a bacon and ketchup sandwich, and an egg protein pot, which is really just a plastic tub with two hard boiled eggs inside of it. 

2.

Curse Charlie’s shorter-than-average arms. Plenty of people have fawned over his long, sinewy legs, but have failed to notice the fact that his arms are not in proportion with the rest of his slender frame. Usually it’s not an issue, given Charlie’s impressive overall height. Really, there have only ever been two instances in which Charlie’s lack of reach has been an issue: being fitted for his Truham school uniform blazers after his teenage growth spurt, when his mum decried the need for repeated efforts to shorten the sleeves. That, and right now, as he tries to get a hold of the final remaining vegan falafel wrap from the top shelf of the meal deal fridge. Of course it’s been pushed all the way to the very back, and of course he’s surrounded by other customers who would definitely judge him for climbing up onto the rack in order to reach his target.

Charlie wriggles his fingers as he boosts himself up on his tiptoes. His fingertips graze the flexible plastic packaging, just barely unable to get a grip on the pesky main. 

Someone clears their throat behind Charlie. He falls back on his feet as he turns to see that same Greek god he had encountered the other day. 

“Hi,” the man whispers breathily with a crooked smile. He nods in the direction of Charlie’s intended lunch. 

“High,” Charlie sighs after beholding the face of a literal mythological wonderment personified. Because of course he can’t just say a normal greeting when in the presence of such beauty. 

Eros must be smiling down on Charlie today though, because the other man breaks into a toothy grin. Wordlessly, he reaches across Charlie’s personal bubble. Subtle wisps of his aftershave tickle Charlie’s olfactory system and cloud his thoughts. He picks up the wrap without even needing to try and hands it to Charlie. The man grabs a hoisin duck wrap, then offers a sheepish wink before turning on his heel and departing for the registers. 

3.

“Yes, I’m on my way! Yep, I’m- I’m going as- yes, honey, I did remember your toothpaste. Yes, I- yep, mhm. Sure. Sure thing. Yes, darling. I- oh.” 

He’s been hung up on, again. “Bye, darling. I’ll be home soon. Love you, too,” Charlie mumbles dejectedly as he slips his phone into his front jeans pocket.

Charlie is sick of his on-again, off-again boyfriend. They may be ‘on’ at the moment, but Charlie is beginning to feel more like an errand boy than an equal partner in an adult relationship. What grown man doesn’t know where the toothpaste aisle is in the local Tesco? Either this boyfriend really is a man-child like Charlie’s friends all say, or he’s a lying and manipulative prick who knows exactly how to needle and coerce Charlie into doing his bidding. How had Charlie once again gotten caught in the trap of falling for any guy who was nice to him even once, and ignoring every red flag, no matter how blatant? Like, the fact that he had called Charlie ‘Kieran’ half the time for the first four and a half weeks of their relationship? Hadn’t Charlie been through this enough times to know better than to–

“Hi,” a voice startles Charlie out of his mental spiral. In fact, Charlie had been tumbling so rapidly into the gravitational pull of relationship despair that the sudden kind voice frightened him into dropping his shopping basket with a clatter. Several oranges and a large bottle of diet lemonade roll off in every direction, and Charlie fixes his eyes on the tube of peppermint-for-sensitive-teeth-plus-whitening sliding across the waxed lino and under the nearby instant espresso machine. A throat is cleared, and Charlie looks up only to lock eyes with those gorgeous golden browns that he’s come across enough times that he should really stop being so awestruck when he bumps into their owner in the meal deal section. 

“Hi,” Charlie finally manages to mutter in response. He continues searching the fellow customer’s eyes, unable to pinpoint any coherent thought other than ‘pretty’ and ‘yowza’. 

“Here,” the man offers vaguely before bending over and stopping the runaway fizzy drink in its tracks. After a beat, Charlie follows suit, chasing down the rolling citrus fruits. 

Once the offending items are retrieved, both men shift their attention to the dusty underbelly of the Costa machine. Charlie crawls over to it and lowers himself onto his knees and elbows, trying to contort his body in the most unassuming way possible. He walks a hand under the contraption, having to place his chest to the floor in order to reach the toothpaste that had somehow slid comically far. All he can feel are dust bunnies and wadded-up paper napkins, until something gives his pinky a tiny, nearly imperceptible but remarkably effervescent jolt.

Charlie turns his head so that his other cheek is now pressed to the lino and sees the blond man’s face dangerously close to his own. He too is reaching under the espresso maker. Their close proximity reveals a constellation of freckles splattered across the man’s reddened cheeks. 

Time seems to stand still before Charlie comes back into his body and he is reminded that he surely looks quite ridiculous, sprawled out like this in the shop. He taps around to try and locate the toothpaste, but the other man finds it first. He shuffles as he pulls it out from under the machine, in the process sliding a finger along Charlie’s pinky once again. This time, the afterglow Charlie is left with is undeniable.

Charlie has never experienced anything so distractingly romantic yet grimy in his life. 

The man places the pesky toothpaste gingerly in Charlie’s shopping basket before standing. He cards his fingers through his thick hair in an attempt to regain a semblance of respectability after having just laid prone on the floor of the meal deal aisle. 

“For what it’s worth, you deserve someone who would fish out grocery items for you in the middle of Tesco.”

Charlie stares back in wonderment at the kind stranger. 

He offers a shy smile and adds, “Or at the very least, someone who doesn’t hang up on you.” 

4.

“I didn’t really peg you as the egg and cress type,” someone says from Charlie’s left. The person is reaching for the sandwich next to the one Charlie is grasping. 

“Oh, I’m not,” Charlie responds flatly. 

“Well I, for one, love it,” the man states as he drops the triangle-shaped package into his basket.

Charlie finally looks to his side and sees that it’s yet again the man who always seems to materialize whenever Charlie is up in his emotions while selecting a Meal Deal. “ That is a crime ,” he quips with the little surge of energy he receives from connecting eyes with the handsome not-quite-stranger. He still doesn’t know the man’s name, but Charlie feels like he already has insight into the man’s somewhat peculiar tastes in food, and the man knows more than most, frankly, about the nature of Charlie’s relationship with his horrible boyfriend. The boyfriend he plans to break up with over a Tesco Meal Deal. This Tesco Meal Deal. 

“It’s interesting!” the man scoffs with mock offense. “More so than-” he peers inside Charlie’s shopping basket and spies his roast tomato and feta pasta salad. A gleam flashes across his eyes, but when he meets Charlie’s gaze, the man shifts tone. Charlie suspects that something in his expression must deter his shoppingmate from commenting on his selections. He continues, “More so than plenty of other options. At least I’m not going for the grandpa special,” he stage-whispers while nodding to the other occupant of the aisle. An old man holding a Just Ham, apple slices, and a bottle of still water. 

“Oi!” Charlie warns before flashing his own ham and cheese at the man. There is no malice behind his exclamation, though. Something about this person makes Charlie feel at ease, and like he’s not actually being judged for his choices in food. It’s nice. Refreshing. Different from literally any other man Charlie has ever interacted with.

Charlie clocks the man’s snack, Nice ‘N’ Spicy Nik Naks, and figures that such a good choice must mean that the man’s taste buds are at least somewhat discerning. 

“Hey, what snack says ‘I hate you and I never want to see you again?’” Charlie asks before his brain can stop his impulsive mouth.

“Flame Grilled Steak crisps,” the man responds without hesitation. “Totally disgusting. But, why are you trying to communicate such a strong statement through a Meal Deal?”

“Breaking up with my boyfriend,” Charlie shrugs as he places the packet of crisps into his basket.

“Is he a knob?”

“ Yes .”

The man squints at Charlie with a gleam in his eye. “He deserves an Irn Bru then.”

5.

Charlie wipes the tears from his eyes with the back of his wrist. Since when did he get to be such a sad sack? Especially over some basic, boring, middling man like his ex? The guy he broke up with over a week ago? He reminds himself that he was the one who initiated the separation, and therefore he shouldn’t be feeling any type of way. 

He holds a Wispa and a Mars bar in each of his hands. Everyone knows that a Tesco Meal Deal comes with one main, one drink, and one snack. So which snack is Charlie supposed to choose? A Wispa is his go-to chocolate of choice, never failing him with its bubbly, melt-in-your-mouth goodness. But then there’s the Mars bar, a more out-there indulgence that usually scratches the itch of Charlie stepping out from his norm, while still remaining safely within the confines of, well, a Tesco Meal Deal. It’s not like Charlie is all of a sudden trying the calamari from the chicken shop below Tao’s flat or something. There’s only so much risk that can possibly be involved in the snack selections laid before him.

“You can have both, you know,” a familiar voice gently says from down the aisle. “You don’t have to choose.”

Charlie turns to see, of course, that same dreamboat of a Tesco customer greeting him. “A meal deal comes with one snack. Do I go with my trusty favorite, or do I branch out and go for something a little surprising?”

The blond man glances down at the two candy bars in Charlie’s grasp. “I, um…” 

“The Mars bar is the odd choice, obviously,” Charlie clarifies with a small smirk after noticing the man’s confusion over the rather mundane options. 

“Obviously,” the man agrees with an exaggerated nod. “But, why not just get both? It’s only 75p.”

Charlie looks at the price on the shelf. He’s right: is Charlie’s independence really worth the stress over selecting a single chocolate bar? Why limit himself to the rules imposed on him by Tesco? By society? Isn’t his freedom of choice, and freedom to not have to choose, worth the extra few pence?

“How did you get to be so wise?” asks Charlie as he gazes in wonderment at the two sweets in his hands. Is he really doing this? Is he really going to buy both the Wispa and the Mars bar? 

“Sometimes, you’ve got to listen to your heart,” the man replies as he reaches for a sausage roll. Then, he grabs a white chocolate Twix and some Skips and throws them in his shopping basket. 

Charlie furrows his brow and hums, feeling inspired to actually allow himself to listen to this man’s sage advice. He’s independent, he knows what he deserves, and he knows how to treat himself right. Sometimes, that’s breaking up with a horrible boyfriend who would have ridiculed Charlie for wanting both snacks, and clearing the way for greater joy in life. Like the kind of happiness that comes from double chocolate. 

And just maybe, someone who doesn’t mind breaking the guidelines of the Tesco Meal Deal. 

+1 

Charlie peruses the remaining snack choices. He’d arrived at Tesco later in the day than usual, and the best meal deal options had already been picked over. All that’s left is some salt and vinegar crisps and other second-rate flavors, and a couple of mushy-looking fruit cups. Charlie trails his eyes over the empty boxes of Kit Kats and Smarties, until he finally lands on the one remaining white chocolate Twix. 

He’s never really been a fan, but ever since seeing that kind, handsome stranger reach for one all those weeks ago, the disgusting confection has grown on Charlie. He reaches down to grab it off the bottom shelf when his fingers are intercepted by another hand. 

“Oops, pardon me, can I just…” the hand’s owner politely but firmly dissuades Charlie from picking up the chocolate bar. The chocolate bar that is rightfully Charlie’s. He was here first, anyway, and by god, he’s had a long enough week that he deserves a white chocolate Twix with the Meal Deal he is having for tea on this Friday afternoon. 

Charlie knocks the other hand out of the way and picks up the last one. 

The man beside him scoffs. Normally, Charlie would be much more polite. But ever since swearing off of toxic men, he’s prioritized his own wants and needs above those of anyone else. Well, not when it comes to things like another’s safety and security, of course. But, a white chocolate Twix is not necessarily a requirement for one’s personal well-being. And therefore, Charlie is allowed to be a bit of a pompous jerk about getting what’s his. 

As he clasps his lithe fingers around the Meal Deal snack, Charlie trains his gaze on the man standing a little too close to him. Once again, it’s that man. The man with the eyes. And the hair. And the arms. 

“Hi,” the man says after taking in Charlie’s shocked face. How was it that these two were meeting again in Tesco? 

“Hi,” Charlie replies. 

“So, I’ve got a proposal for you,” the man says after a beat. “Could I interest you in, perhaps, sharing the Twix?” 

Charlie rolls his eyes. He’s had his fair share of attractive men hit on him in public like this, but so blatantly? He would be offended, if it wasn’t a literal Adonis doing so. So instead of shrugging him off, Charlie just smiles and feels his cheeks go pink.

“Fine. But only if you promise to actually try at Mario Kart tonight,” Charlie squints and offers a giggle. 

“You’re on,” Nick replies before placing a chaste kiss on his boyfriend’s lips. “I found you a Wispa. Let’s go home.”