Chapter Text
Rodolfo was always a man who appreciated the many good things in life. His relatives’ (or his own) cooking, the Las Almas culture surrounding them, lively music, anything that proved or brought life to the party. He was an observer at heart, and what brought others happiness brought him a certain warmness in his heart, too.
But, like any other fellow observer, he needed his alone time away from people, which leads us to another thing he appreciated dearly: local cafés.
This man will try every local café near him during his time off-duty or on leave. He’d sit quietly, alone, near the edges of the café, enjoying the view from outside the window, while also maybe ordering something simple like a white coffee or a cappuccino. At times, he’d possibly bring Alejandro with him, but the colonel didn’t quite enjoy the peace like Rodolfo did.
After a particularly exhausting mission that took around a month to complete, the Vaqueros agreed to take a few days off to rest, and that was all Rodolfo needed to enjoy his morning at a new café down a few blocks from them. He’d heard about it from a colleague, they’d mentioned good coffee and nice pastries.
“They even have savoury treats there. Savoury! Can you believe it?” They’d exclaimed, determined to get Rodolfo to try it. Savoury treats in cafés were exceptionally rare. He was a little fed up with all the sweet, sugar-coated tarts and chocolate-filled croissants in the other cafés he’d gone to.
So, without needing any further convincing, he sought out to this petite little café from a few blocks away, bringing a book, his coat, and himself with him as he went via his motorbike.
Now here he was, sitting with his book in hand, having ordered a flat white and a ham croissant that looked a little too tempting. The café was small, just as mentioned, and that meant the tables at the edge were closer to the counter where the barista worked. He paid no mind to it. After all, there wasn’t going to be any rush hour at this time of day, and he was practically the only one in the café right now. Once the waiter got his order in, he caught a few glimpses of the barista behind the counter.
Rudy looks up from his book for a second and unintentionally locks his gaze onto you, with your focused, glistening eyes and steady hands that work so swiftly and efficiently to make his coffee.
For a second, his book is forgotten, and he watches you work with that silent appreciation he’d give to music or laughter, only difference was that you weren’t loud or boisterous, you didn’t command the room with your movements, and you didn’t make your presence as known. Still, he noticed.
Before he knew it, you were leaning against the counter, sipping your own coffee, and the waiter brought out his flat white, along with the croissant he’d ordered with it.
“You see a spider, compa?” The waiter asked as he set Rodolfo’s coffee down.
“Ah? No, no, no es nada,” (Ah? No, no, it’s nothing) Rodolfo brushed off, thanking the waiter and returning to the comfort of his book, though he couldn’t help himself whenever his gaze would drift back to you, watching you relax in between customers. He noticed how much more beautiful you looked when you let your shoulders slant before getting back to work, making you look even more majestic.
He was there for quite a while, just how he liked it, reading his book and getting maybe one or two refills on the coffee, plus some cinnamon buns. Furthermore, he watched other customers come and go, all while he remained constant. All this, done while throwing discreet glances at you, seeing if you were on break, stressed, relaxed, et cetera.
The clock on the wall soon struck 1500 hours, and he caught you slipping out into the back. Break time? Perhaps he could land a chat with me. He hoped he could. For a man with a highly confrontational job, he wasn’t the most confrontational person outside of work. But he’d tried.
And try he did, paying for his coffee and treats before slipping out after you, there, he was just in time to catch you searching for a light in your pockets.
“Shit,” you grunted, cigarette already dangling between those deeply coloured lips of yours as you patted yourself to try and find the telltale lump of a lighter in your pockets, to no avail.
“Need a light?” He offered casually, pulling out his own zippo lighter and his pack of cigarettes. Rodolfo didn’t smoke regularly, but there were times when he needed to wind down, or he’d enjoy a nice evening with Alejandro.
“Perfect timing, thanks,” you said with an evident hint of gratitude, reaching for his lighter, fingers brushing against his as you do. You probably thought nothing of it, and he didn’t dare dwell on it for too long. You flicked the lighter once, then again, before it sparked its warm orange flame. You used the palm of your hand to shield the flame from the wind, bringing it to your lips and letting it light that soft ember glow onto the tip of your cigarette.
“You work here for long?” Rodolfo asked as he watched you, sparking some conversation.
“Ever since it opened a few weeks ago, yeah. Need to make money somehow,” you laughed softly, and damn if it didn’t make him smile a little more prominently.
“Yeah? You’re good at it, all the customers seem satisfied, including me.”
“You think so? I thank the gods for not making me a clumsy mess, then,” you commented lightly, handing him his lighter back so he could light his own cigarette. “I actually mainly chose to work here because it means I get to sneak in some of my own coffee. I had no idea how well my performance would be.”
Rodolfo chuckled along with you, putting away the lighter once he was done using it. “Yeah? Could’ve fooled me. So, when does your shift end?” He asked, nudging the topic of asking me out.
“5:30,” you answered smoothly, turning to look at him more clearly.
“5;30, huh? I’d offer to buy you a drink, but you’d probably be the one making it,” he huffed, taking a drag of his cigarette. You laughed at that.
“Mm, yeah, it’s busy everywhere today. Wanna take a raincheck?”
“Of course. Could I have your number?” He pulled out his phone, and soon, you have each other’s numbers in your phones. Afterwards, you stub out your cigarette and pocket your phone.
“I’ve gotta keep working now. Text me, yeah?” You smiled, scurrying back inside to go on with your shift. And now, Rodolfo has a potential date.