Chapter Text
You weren’t sure what drew you to the museum in the first place. Maybe it was the grand architecture, standing out among the bustle of London, or maybe it was the way the banners flapped in the wind, advertising ancient treasures from a world long past. Either way, with nothing but time on your hands, you found yourself at the ticket counter, sliding a few bills over before stepping through the entrance.
Just as you crossed the threshold, something—no, someone—collided with you. A sharp inhale, “Oh bollocks!”
Suddenly a wave of warmth spread across your shirt, soaking into the fabric. “Oh no.” You blinked down at the spreading stain—tea, by the smell of it—before glancing up at the man responsible. He was already panicking, hands hovering in the air like he wanted to fix it but had no idea how.
“I—oh no, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t lookin’ where I was going, and now you’re—oh blimey, that’s—” He gestured vaguely at your shirt, voice full of distress. “I’ve ruined your whole—your whole day, haven’t I?” For a second, you just stared at him, at the way his curls bounced slightly as he fretted, at the genuine horror in his deep brown eyes. And then, unexpectedly, you laughed. His panic stuttered. “Wait, you’re—you’re laughin’?”
“It’s just a shirt,” you said, still grinning as you shook your head. “It’ll dry. Eventually.” Then, with an amused tilt of your lips, you added, “Could’ve been worse. At least it wasn’t wine.” That earned you a small, hesitant smile in return.
You could see him trying to make sense of your reaction, clearly thrown off by your lack of anger. Most people probably would’ve snapped at him, but you weren’t about to ruin a perfectly good day over spilled tea.
“I—uh—right,” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. “Still, I feel awful. I mean, you—you just got here and now you’re all, um… tea-stained?” He winced at his own words.
You chuckled, holding out a hand. “Actually, I’m Y/N.”
For a moment, he hesitated before grasping your hand in his own, shaking it with a careful gentleness. “Steven,” he said, voice softer now. “Steven Grant.”
“Well, Steven Grant,” you said, stepping aside so others could pass through the entrance. You glance at his name tag. “Since you’ve already left your mark on my afternoon, how about you make it up to me?”
His brows shot up. “Oh! Yes! Of course—how, uh, how would I do that exactly?”
You tapped your chin, pretending to think. “How about a personal tour? I’ve never been here before, and something tells me you might know a thing or two.”
A mixture of surprise and something else—something almost shy—flashed across his face. He ducked his head slightly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, alright,” he said, voice warming up. “I—I suppose I could do that.”
“Great,” you said, nudging him playfully. “Lead the way, tea-spiller.” He let out a breath of laughter, eyes crinkling at the corners, and for the first time since the whole mess started, he looked a little less frazzled.
And just like that, your afternoon took a far more interesting turn. He was a wonderful tour guide.
Sure, he was a bit shy at first, but once he started talking, he transformed. His voice smoothed out, his words gaining momentum as he spoke about ancient relics, myths, and gods with the kind of passion that made you want to listen. And oh, did he ramble.
He caught himself mid-sentence, clearing his throat and shifting uncomfortably. “Ah—sorry, I—um, I tend to go on a bit, don’t I?” He glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck. “You probably didn’t wanna hear all that—”
“Keep going.” His eyes flicked back to yours, uncertainty lingering. “I mean it,” you said, offering a small smile. “I like hearing you talk about this.”
Steven hesitated, searching your face as if trying to gauge if you were just being polite. But then you did something that utterly floored him—you repeated what he had just said, word for word, proving you had been listening.
The rush of warmth that bloomed in his chest was unexpected. It sent a fluttering sensation straight to his stomach, and he stumbled over his next words before regaining his footing.
So he continued, diving back into the tour with renewed energy. The two of you wandered through the exhibits, pausing at glass cases filled with artifacts, their histories unraveling effortlessly from his lips. You asked thoughtful questions, and each time you did, Steven’s excitement grew.
Until it was interrupted.
“Steven!” The sharp voice made him stiffen instantly.
You turned to see a stern-looking woman approaching, her gaze locked onto Steven with clear disapproval. You could practically feel him shrink beside you.
“Where exactly is your name tag?” she demanded before crossing her arms. “And why are you not at your post?”
“Oh, uh—right, yeah, about that—” Steven stammered, looking thoroughly caught. Before he could flounder further, you stepped in.
“I’m so sorry!” you said smoothly, flashing your most dazzling smile. “This is my first time visiting, and I asked him to show me around. He’s been absolutely wonderful—so knowledgeable! Honestly, this has been the best museum experience I’ve ever had.”
Steven stared at you in disbelief. His boss—who had approached looking ready to tear into him—seemed momentarily thrown off by your sheer enthusiasm.
“Well,” she said, straightening, “that’s… good to hear, I suppose.” But then she turned her gaze back to Steven, still unimpressed. “But you still have inventory tonight, understood?”
Steven nodded quickly. “Yes, yes, of course.” She gave you a final glance—less harsh than before—before striding off, leaving the two of you standing in her wake. Steven blinked. “Blimey.”
You winced. “Sorry if I made things worse—”
“No, no, that was—” He huffed out something between a laugh and disbelief. “I dunno how you did it, but she’s never let me off that easy before.”
You grinned. “I just told her the truth.”
Steven shook his head in awe. “I think you might actually be magic.”
You chuckled, then gestured ahead. “So… is it okay if we keep going?”
“Yes!” he said—too quickly. He immediately cleared his throat, forcing a calmer tone. “I mean, yeah, ‘course. Wouldn’t wanna leave the tour unfinished, would we?”
The rest of the tour was nothing short of wonderful. You kept asking questions, genuinely curious about everything Steven had to say. And every time he answered, he couldn’t help but notice the way you watched him—fully engaged, like his words actually mattered.
He took you through the Egyptian exhibit, explaining the significance of the ushabti figurines, and when you asked about the weighing of the heart ceremony, his entire face lit up as he eagerly described the scales of Ma’at.
By the time you reached the end of the museum, the afternoon had slipped away without either of you realizing. Steven came to a slow stop near the exit, shifting on his feet as he glanced toward the front desk.
“I, uh… I should probably get back to my post,” he said, a little reluctant to end things.
You hummed, tilting your head with a teasing smile. “Trying to leave me so soon?” His eyes widened slightly, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction. Before he could fumble for a response, you took a step closer. “Tell you what,” you said, arms crossed as you regarded him. “How about dinner?”
Steven blinked. “Dinner?”
“Yeah,” you said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’ve been talking about the exhibits all day. Thought maybe we could have a conversation not surrounded by ancient artifacts. Unless that’s what you’d prefer.” You shot him a playful look.
“I—I mean, no! Well, yes! Not—not that I don’t love a good artifact, obviously, but, uh—” He was stumbling over his words again, clearly thrown off balance. He looked at you, searching for any sign that this was some kind of joke. It wasn’t. Slowly, a bashful smile crept onto his face. “Yeah, Yes,” he finally said. “I’d—I’d like that.”
Your grin widened as you pulled out your phone and handed it to him. He stared at it like you’d just given him the Rosetta Stone. You laughed. “Your number?”
“Oh! Right, yeah—‘course.” He fumbled with the screen before carefully typing it in, as if afraid of messing up. When he handed the phone back, you wasted no time shooting him a quick text.
“There,” you said. “Now you have mine.”
Steven glanced at his phone, reading the simple message:
Y/N L/N - in case you forget who I am :)
As if he could. Tucking his phone away, he looked back at you, still a little dazed by how this whole afternoon had turned out.
“Well, I should let you get back to work,” you said, taking a small step backward. “I’ll call later, and we’ll figure out the details, yeah?”
“Yeah,” he nodded, still a bit stunned.
You gave him one last smile before turning and heading for the exit. Just before walking out, you glanced over your shoulder, meeting his gaze one last time before disappearing into the street.
Steven let out a breath, running a hand through his curls as he stood there for a moment, processing.
When he woke up that morning, spilling tea on someone and leading them on a private museum tour had not been on the list of possibilities. But here he was, pleasantly surprised—and maybe just a little bit smitten.