Work Text:
You sat down at your usual place in the coffee shop, grabbing your computer from your bag to place in front of you. Your journal holding your book’s outline was placed next to it, your phone with the timer set to the other side. Pleased with your set up, you logged on to the wifi, browsing during the few minutes that you were waiting for your order.
As you browsed you also people-watched, seeing a lot of the same people as always walking in and out of the shop. You spent nearly every morning here, the atmosphere perfect for writing. There were never any loud patrons and music played softly in the background, making the ambient noise level was just right. When you tried to write at home, things were just too quiet.
Your eyes were drawn to the front door of the coffee shop when the bell rang, seeing a man walk in. He was incredibly handsome, his dark brown hair messy and blue eyes bright, even from across the room. For a moment your eyes met before the barista brought you your order, blocking your view of the man.
You thanked the barista, putting your mug in its place on your table and turning to your writing. Without another thought to anyone around you, you got to work, fingers typing away in between moments of thought on word choice and sentence structure.
Two hours later, your coffee mug was empty and you were packed and gone, sure to return tomorrow.
Your routine continued, your hazelnut mocha with milk and sugar, topped with a whipped cream, keeping you company. Your book was coming along, even forming a few Easter eggs on its own.
The handsome man you’d noticed became a part of your routine as well, usually getting to the coffee shop just a few minutes after you. You wouldn’t have taken much notice except that the bell would ring at his entrance, always just before you began concentrating on your work. And nearly every day as you looked up to see him, he was also looking at you.
You would look quickly away, grateful for the distraction of your work so that you didn’t have to say anything - social interactions outside of literary ones were not your forte.
One morning, as you walked into the coffee shop and toward your table, you noticed a mug of coffee already sitting there. You approached slowly, stomach dropping when you realized someone had snagged your favorite table. You saw an open table just behind it, though, so continued walking to grab it. As you passed your regular, you noticed a small piece of paper next to the mug on the table…with your name written on it.
You looked around, confused. Slowly you picked up the paper, opening its fold and seeing a short note.
Thought I could save you the time of ordering and have your coffee ready for you.
You looked around once more, trying to see if anyone was watching. You didn’t notice the handsome man in the dark corner, intent on your every move.
You shrugged, sitting and setting up your table.
When you took a sip of your coffee, you nearly spat it out. It was nearly right - hazelnut mocha with milk and whipped cream on top, but there was no sugar to it. It wasn’t sweet enough, for you at least.
You waved a barista over and asked for sugar, noticing the faint smile on his face as he brought it back. Almost as if he knew you’d be asking…
The following day, a mug was on your table once more. The note today only had your name, so you sat and eyed the coffee.
Yesterday it was missing sugar. You prepared your palate for the sugarless taste before taking a sip.
It definitely had sugar in it today, but you still nearly spat it out. Today it was obviously missing the mocha.
You waved the barista over, the same one as yesterday, watching as he approached you with a small cup of chocolatey goodness already in hand. "What’s going on?“ you asked him as he set the cup down.
"Sorry,” was all he replied before he turned back to his post. You eyed him for a moment before shaking your head, getting to work.
It was the whipped cream missing the next day. That was something you could live without, you knew, but it made you sigh all the same. Someone was messing with you (and your coffee) and you wanted to get to the bottom of it all.
You didn’t have to even wave him over; the barista approached your table with the whipped cream in hand. You grabbed him before he could get away.
“Who keeps ordering my coffee?” you asked, trying to put as much authority in your voice as possible.
He looked around, his eyes hesitating toward the dark corner. You’d look in a moment, but you wanted to watch his face as he answered you. "I don’t know his name, but he keeps leaving things out. And then he tells me to be ready - he says he always wants me to be ready with what you’re missing.“
With that, the barista turned back to the counter. You were confused by his words but sat all the same. Then, as smoothly as possible, you pretended to turn for something in your bag to look over into the corner of the shop. Sitting there, reading his newspaper, was the handsome man you’d noticed nearly a week earlier.
Was he the man the barista was talking about?
The following day was the worst of all. You sat down to your coffee, eyeing it carefully. What would be missing this time?
As you took a sip, you knew. The hazelnut flavor was the only type of coffee you could bear to drink, other coffee flavors much too bitter for you (hence the chocolate, milk, and sugar added as well). This time you did spit it out, tonguing the roof of your mouth to get rid of the flavor.
Immediately, the barista was at your table with a completely new mug, liquid in this one colored a lighter brown that you knew would be hazelnut.
"Thank you,” was all you said to him, looking around.
The handsome man looked away just as you met his eyes, a small smile on his face.
It had to be him.
As you walked in to the coffee shop the following day, you ticked the ingredients of your coffee off in your mind. The man has messed with the sugar, whipped cream, chocolate, and hazelnut. What next, take the milk out of the latte?
There it was, sitting in the middle of your table. You barely even noticed the hustle and bustle around you, the coffee shop much busier on the weekend than normal week day. Your eyes were only on the coffee, wondering what could be next.
Without doing anything else, you picked up the mug and brought it to your lips. You closed your eyes as you took a sip, to make sure you tasted everything. The temperature was just right for drinking.
It was perfect.
You sighed, relieved that the game was over but a bit sad at the same time. Sure, it had been annoying that your coffee was messed up for so many days, but also kind of fun.
You opened your eyes, setting the mug down on the table. That’s when you saw it.
Sure, there wasn’t anything missing from your coffee, everything was just right.
What was missing was your chair.
The table was bare, and while it usually had four chairs sitting around it, today there were none. You glanced around, finally noticing how busy the shop was.
There were no empty seats to be found.
You turned toward the counter, seeing your barista friend from the week. He was watching you, noticing your dilemma. You raised your eyebrows at him, knowing that he knew something.
He cocked his head toward one side, encouraging you to look that way.
Your eyes moved to settle on the dim corner of the shop. There was the handsome man, sitting in the corner he’d been living in for the past week as he’d messed with you.
And there, across the table from him, was the only open chair in the room.
You met his eyes, seeing amusement and hope in them. With as much confidence as you could muster, you picked up your mug of (perfect) coffee and headed his way.
“May I?” you asked as you approached, pulling out the chair. He nodded, watching as you sat.
“Missing sugar, missing whipped cream, missing mocha, missing hazelnut…missing chair?” you accounted, watching the man’s blue eyes shine as you listed the week off. "What kind of game are you playing here?“
He smiled, leaning forward and resting his clasped hands on the table between you. "There’s a lot that goes into making the perfect coffee,” he began to explain, his voice low and seductive, “but I can assure you that the only ingredient you’re missing is me.”
You blushed, torn between laughing at him and being completely flattered. A few seconds passed before the moment was broken with him throwing his head down in laughter. "Oh my God, that was the cheesiest thing I think I’ve ever said…"
You laughed then, seeing that he was making fun of himself. He kept talking, wiping his eyes. "It seemed like a good idea, a nice meet-cute, or whatever, with a pick up line to boot! Now here we are, you see that I’m a complete dufus, and I’m so terribly sorry for ruining your coffee all week.“
The smile on his face was dazzling and you were drawn to him. "It’s alright, it will be a good story to tell someday, I’m sure,” you said, making him pause. He smiled at you, holding his hand out.
“I’m Misha. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
You smiled back. "Y/N. And you, too.“