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Coffee shops are the halfway houses of the sad and lonely. From the erratic opening hours of the independent hole in the wall, to the corporate anonymity of the Starbucks, the coffee shop is a siren call to the morose and malaise. They appeal to those experiencing that melancholy, often exacerbated by too little sleep and too much work, that drives a hankering for caffeine, and offer an often cosy, warm interior that exudes comfort and familiarity. Entering a new coffee shop for the first time is like joining a new church, a new altar to worship the bean upon but also a whole new congregation of regulars, a new inner life of barista drama to enjoy from Lorenzo as you guzzle your third black americano with room for milk.
But finding that new establishment can be tricky. There are a lot of factors to consider like whether or not it’ll be a place that attracts the kind of people that insist that, of course it’s not real coffee unless you’re drinking straight espresso from an ashtray in a back room gambling den somewhere in rural Italy.
Shane still takes the leap, thinking perhaps naively, that the small change of scenery will put some pep in his step. Strangely, it feels like a big decision. It seems more of a risk than it probably should but what with being on the daily grind of starting to intern at buzzfeed risks are what he needs to take. Admittedly he’s starting small, infinitesimally so but a risks a risk. Don’t get him wrong, Lorenzo will be sorely missed but he’s done with hearing about the guy that broke his heart every other weekend. If Lorenzo a 6’2” Italian stallion can’t keep a man then Shane, a 6’4” candlestick looking, plain old American with a splash of Eastern European thrown in is well and truly fucked.
That’s some negative self talk, his therapist would scold him for it but some negative self talk is healthy. It stops him from getting ideas above his station. Ideas like kissing the bleary looking guy who just exited the new coffee shop he’s about to try for the first time right on the pie hole. That’s also called assault and Shane wants to steer well clear of it.
The bleary eyed, hot guy quickly becomes the wide eyed, very annoyed hot guy as Shane barrels into him. Like an embarrassingly sub-par rom-com, minus the rom and the com and double the sense of calamity and desperation, hot bean juice spills over the both of them. Shane’s belly is a little scalded through his thin flannel shirt and Shane is very concerned for the state of the other guy’s nipples, mainly because he can now see them in all their glory. Well he can’t see them, but he can see the impression of them, through the man’s faded Kellogg's t-shirt, too tight for public consumption. Shane wants to read that chest like braille.
“Oh fuck.”
“You got that right.” The guy mutters, pulling the soaked t-shirt away from his chest before letting it go with a wet slap that seems to echo in Shane's eardrums, sounding somehow so obscene that he's sure even the tips of his ears are turning pink. He shakes himself, fighting to stop leering, Jesus fucking Christ. He coughs.
“Fuck I'm really sorry man. I-I’ll buy you another cup to make it up to you.” He stutters out, heart hammering against his ribcage.
“Nah it’s fine dude it was an accident.” The man sighs before smiling up at him and Shane feels like his heart has ceased its hammering and just stopped altogether. “I wanna get an early start at work. New job, you know how it is.”
“New job!” Great now he feels like double the asshole. A thought occurs to him suddenly that has him fishing for the keys to his car. “You can’t go to work looking like a whole espresso machine just took a dump on you. I’ve got a spare shirt in my car, it’s the least I can do.”
“No it’s fine really,” he mutters with wide eyes “don’t trouble yourself-”
Shane is off like a shot before he can even finish, jogging to his car and fishing a red flannel out of the trunk.
“Here.” He says breathless, handing it to the coffee drenched man when he makes it back, “I’m like, you know, taller than you but it should fit okay. Just until you can find something better and look less like someone tried to waterboard you with a cappuccino.” The man laughs at that, loud and boisterous, chortles wracking through his whole body and Shane can’t help but grin at the sight. He shrugs on the shirt and grins up at him, pearly whites shining at him. “Thanks uh...?”
“Shane, and...?”
“Ryan.”
“Cool.
“Cool.
“I’ll see you around Shane.” Ryan says with a smile, he waves and then he’s gone, making his way toward his car in the coffee shop’s small lot.
And see him around so he does. They both become regulars at the little coffee shop and Shane's small risk of taking the leap and switching shops seems to have paid off.
It starts off with smiling at each other over the tops of their coffee cups, brief hello’s as one of them is on their way in and the other on their way out.
Then comes the gossip. They both hover at the bar as Grace, the greatest barista to grace the earth, dishes out the coffee drama or ‘crama’ as Shane has dubbed it. Inevitably they bicker about even that. Ryan argues it would make more sense to call it ‘carma’ as in 'karma’ but Shane argues that it wouldn't be a true amalgamation of the words coffee and drama which are the two descriptors of the gossip they're involved in and it would therefore make zero sense. It's the first time they share a table and they bicker until close.
Not just the coffee shop but Ryan becomes somewhat of a sanctuary and he thanks all the deities that may or may not exist that it's open late as he trudges through its doors after staying late at work, in search of good coffee and Ryan's smile. He finds only one of the two. The coffee is as good as ever but the shop is strangely quiet, the usual cheerful atmosphere is absent. He raises a questioning eyebrow at Grace and they simply shake their head with a sad smile, they point toward the booth in the corner and Shane follows with his gaze. There, hunched down against the plush upholstered seat and staring forlornly into his coffee cup, dressed to the nines and looking miserable, is Ryan.
“Oh man” Shane mutters before making his way toward him quietly.
Despite his misery Ryan is... Breathtaking. His hair is styled, soft looking and shiny. There's stubble gracing his jaw and he seems to glow under the dim, golden light of the antique bulbs hanging overhead. He's dressed simply, tight dark jeans and smart boots. The white shirt he's wearing, open at the collar and with short sleeves hugging his biceps is absolutely devastating. Shane looks like he got dressed by throwing himself into a pile of his grandmother's quilting fabric, mismatched and musty and oddly shaped. Whilst Shane is sure there's a sheen of sweat covering his skin, Ryan looks like he's shimmering, light catching on the dial of his watch, the tips of his hair, his eyes, God, his eyes.
Shane coughs awkwardly and Ryan glances up at him and he looks so sad but as beautiful as he always does and Shane can barely breathe.
“D'you mind?” He says softly. Ryan shakes his head. He sighs.
“I could use the company.” He says just as quietly and Shane's heart aches. Shane's never seen him anything but bright and bubbly and boisterous and seeing him so subdued is soul crushing.
He slides into the booth, hand upturned on the tabletop. “Why the long face, little guy?” Ryan shrugs, his face twisting into a grimace.
“My um- my date didn’t show up.” Shane blinks. There must be a good excuse, who would stand a man like Ryan up?
“Well- maybe they have a good reason you know, some kind of emergency.” Ryan just shakes his head.
“No they uh- they text, said they didn’t think it was gonna work out.”
“They’re insane.” Shane says vehemently and it startles a laugh out of Ryan that has him internally jumping for joy.
“Shane-”
“No they’re stupid a-and probably ugly and obviously have bad taste.”
Ryan keeps laughing and Shane keeps talking until there is no trace of his earlier melancholy. He reaches out and squeezes Shane’s hand, smile bright like sunshine. “Thank you Shane.” He says, sincerity dripping from every syllable. Shane squeezes back.
“No problem Ry.”
His sanctuary, his sweet, bitter coffee haven, blessedly open late so he can escape the chill of a Friday night. He is drunk, unbelievably so. These BuzzFeed kids really know how to drink and he stumbles inside, hibiscus flower still tucked behind his ear, in the hopes of sobering up before calling an Uber back to his place.
“Shane! Shane, Jesus- Shane it’s almost time to close!”
“Grace! I know please please just gimme a black ameri-americano and like 20 minutes and I’ll be out your hair.” He slurs, bending half of himself over the counter. Grace laughs, the sound chiming like a bell.
“Shane? Shane!” A voice calls and Ryan stumbles from his usual corner booth, looking about as drunk as Shane feels and oh boy is this a bad combination.
“Ryan! What are you doing here?” He asks, swaying slightly.
“You have a flower!” Ryan says delightedly, tugging him toward his booth with a hand vice like around his bicep. “It’s so cute. You look so cute!” Shane can’t help but blush and he sits exactly where Ryan wants him too, pressed together, shoulder to hip in the booth.
They giggle at each other, sipping at their drinks as Grace cleans tables around them. They feel a little bad but they’ll be out of they’ll be gone at closing time. Shane is mesmerised, the messy flop of Ryan’s hair and the drunken flush to his cheeks is entrancing. Ryan laughs, loud and raucous and drops his head to Shane’s shoulder, hugging his arm to his chest.
“Hey.” He says, grinning down at him. His brain feels like alphabet soup, words and sentences swimming in and out of view.
“Mmm?” Ryan hums quizzically, blinking up at him with dark eyes and Shane can’t stop himself from asking.
“Can I kiss you?”
Ryan nods. “Yes please.”
Shane cups his jaw and kisses him like he’s been aching to since the day they met. Ryan gasps and they giggle into each other’s mouths until Grace is forced to kick them out.
Shane’s first instinct the next morning is to firstly, take a Tylenol, secondly, take a shower and thirdly, head to the coffee shop. He follows through on his first and second instincts but hesitates before giving in to the third. What if Ryan thinks it was a mistake? They were drunk and he was stood up only a few weeks ago, any port in a storm and all that. What if Ryan wasn’t even there, he was bound to be suffering just as much as Shane was with the hangover of the century.
But a little risk bought Ryan into his life in the first place, what was another? Maybe it would pay off.
And pay off it does. Shane leaves the coffee shop in the late afternoon, with more than just a caffeine buzz, he’s also got a date.
As with most catastrophes, it happens on a day like any other. It’s just another day. He’d seen Ryan that morning, rushing off to work as Shane was rushing in for his morning fix and his smile had set Shane up for a better start to the day than he’d had in years. Which is why, at first, when he sees Ryan in the conference room before a briefing for a new project, his first feeling is elation.
“What the fuck are you doing here?!” He whisper yells across the slowly filling room. Ryan skirts around the table to get closer.
“What the fuck are you doing here?!” Ryan asks him, jabbing a finger in his direction.
“I work here!” He says.
“I work here!” Ryan says, bordering on hysterics.
Before they can even begin to understand the enormity of the fact they’ve just discovered they’re colleagues, their manager waltzes in and the meeting commences. Ryan shoots Shane so many confused and panicked looks throughout the brainstorming session that he isn’t surprised when Ryan hauls him by the elbow into an adjacent empty meeting room.
“When were you gonna tell me you also work for BuzzFeed?” Ryan says with an accusatory frown.
“Also? I didn’t know you worked for BuzzFeed! When were you gonna tell me?” Shane says feeling a little stung. They’ve never spoken about work in detail, just small little details, nondescript enough to never discover that they work for the same fucking company.
Ryan runs a frantic hand through his hair. Shane is starting to feel tired, the jump from elated to terrified a big one for someone who spends most of his time on a pretty even emotional keel. Shane shoves his hands in his pockets and Ryan turns those big eyes onto him, a nervous, pitying look in his gaze.
“I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“What?”
“I don’t think we should date.” It feels like a punch to the gut and the air comes rushing out of him in a tense huff of breath.
“I-okay,” Shane starts tentatively, “why-”
“It’s just that we’re both at the start of something here.” Ryan talks over him, barrelling on as if he’s trying to rationalise it to both himself and Shane. “This is the start of a possible series and I don’t know how well we could maintain a professional relationship whilst pursuing a romantic one and if something were to go wrong-”
“I- okay.” Shane breathes, holding up a palm to stop Ryan’s painful rambling. As noble as his points are, and Shane can see his points, they’re good valid points but he kinda wants to call bullshit. The nagging doubt that this had all been too good to be true anyway has gained traction in his head and he’d rather they just cut their losses. So Ryan’s saving their careers or he’s just changed his mind, it doesn’t matter. Shane will once again need to find a new coffee shop.
“Sure Ryan I get it. We call it quits. Keep things profesh. Focus on work.”
“Okay?” Ryan asks unsure.
“Yeah, it’s fine no problem.” Shane says, waving him away and turning to leave.
“Shane, I’m sorry.”
Shane just turns and smiles and tells him it’s fine, because it is, no really, it is.
It’s fine. Really, it is. At least for a while. They keep it profesh, they start to gain momentum at the company doing dumb things on and off camera. They start working together a lot, and to no one’s surprise, they work well together. It’s just like it always has been but they don’t flirt and sometimes his heart clenches painfully in his chest when he sees Ryan’s smile from across the office or hears his laugh. Shane hasn’t been back to the coffee shop.
Working with Ryan is difficult because every day he’s reminded of what could have been and how close he got. But now that night at the coffee shop feels like a fever dream, the plush press of Ryan’s mouth just a figment of his drunken imagination.
It’s fine until it really, really isn’t. Shane’s waiting for Ryan to show up to set, he’s about 20 minutes late to start filming some video trying weird food and Shane’s a little grumpy about it. When Ryan finally turns up, apologising profusely, mussed and sleep bleary and wearing a shirt that clearly isn’t his own Shane’s heart stops.
He feels stupid. Immediately he feels inconsolably idiotic. It was bound to happen eventually. Shane had said that whoever it was that had stood Ryan up all those weeks ago was insane, well it’s only natural there’d be someone smarter, someone, not Shane, that has the good sense to be sweeping Ryan off his feet. And showing him a good time by the looks of it. Shane kicks himself, forces himself to smile and Ryan seems none the wiser, running through wardrobe to make himself look marginally presentable for the camera.
“Hey big guy!” He grins “You okay?” Shane can only manage a tight smile and a nod.
When lunch finally rolls around Shane bolts. He can’t stand sitting around the office, sitting next to Ryan, who had moved desks a few weeks ago, in that stupid fucking shirt. He power walks to the coffee shop, maybe to finally reclaim it from his heart ache, maybe for closure, he doesn’t really know.
At least Grace is happy to see him and he feels obligated to explain his absence, spilling his guts directly onto the bar as they listen with much appreciated sympathy. Eventually, he shuffles over to the booth in the corner, to make his peace. It’s pathetic and dramatic but damn it he’s allowed to mourn his own coffee shop au.
He’s so busy moping that he almost doesn’t notice Ryan barrelling into the shop. He orders, looking frantic but that’s not a new look on Ryan until Grace obviously points Shane out to him. He pretends to not have been paying attention but Ryan stomps over determinedly and slams down his coffee, it sloshes over the side a little and Shane startles looking up and quickly trying to smile. “Oh hi Ry! You've come for lunch today, Grace missed you!”
“It's your shirt.” He says sliding into the booth next to him.
“What?”
“This shirt? It’s the one you gave me the day we met and you spilt coffee all over me.” Shane just blinks at him, too sleep deprived and coffee deprived and love deprived to keep up with where this conversation is going.
“I realised this was dumb, I was being dumb. I didn't want working together to get awkward, we're both at the beginning of our careers here and if this goes wrong our work could suffer and I don’t wanna lose this friendship. But I can’t stop thinking about you and everyone basically thinks we're dating anyway so why not? I was up all night trying to figure out how to win you over again and worrying about if you'd moved on but I came up with this crazy idea to like seduce you because I saw how you looked at me when I wore your shirt that first day but you didn't recognise it and-”
“It worked” Shane cuts in, endlessly endeared by Ryan’s tendency to ramble, anxieties spilling out of him like a burst pipe.
“I'm sorry what?” He blinks
“It worked. I mean I may not have recognised it but now I do and colour me seduced Ry holy shit.” Shane laughs nervously and shit yeah it’s a thing for him and now that he knows it’s his shirt there’s probably gonna be a pretty inconvenient boner making an appearance sometime soon.
Ryan blushes, something so sweet and rare Shane can’t help but kiss him. He tugs him in by the collar of his (Oh God) shirt and kisses him. Ryan’s lips part slightly on a gasp.
“Please say we can date now cause if you say no after all this I think I might start hitting up bars instead of coffee shops.” Ryan rolls his eyes as if to say he knows he already hits up both anyway, but shuffles closer in the booth, planting sweet kisses on Shane’s jaw, completely unashamed to be basically making out with him in a coffee shop at midday on a Wednesday.
“Hmmm I guess. I don’t wanna be responsible for some terrible indie flick you’ll make when you hit forty about how some guy in a coffee shop broke your heart and now you’re just a shell of your former self.”
“Oh damn but I was half way through the screenplay!”
“In L.A. everyone has a screenplay, you ain’t shit Madej.”
“If I ain’t shit why did you just agree to date me?”
“Cause I’ve got a screenplay too, except mine’s more of a romantic comedy.”