Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Martin doesn’t hate working at a coffee shop. He means, sure, the management seems a little slapdash and has a tendency to schedule shifts that overlap a maximum of fifteen minutes. The training was a little quick maybe, but he gets it. Small businesses have to cut costs where they can to remain competitive. He switched his business major to an english degree after his first semester, but he got that much out of it. So it’s not like he’s going to say anything to his supervisor.

… Still. In the privacy of his mind, he can admit that the eight hour opening shift is a little hellish.

It’s five thirty am on a Wednesday. They’ve been open half an hour and no one’s even walked by the store front. Martin, who maybe had had a zombie movie marathon the night before, can’t shake the feeling of being the only person left in the world. He clutches his coffee closer and takes a fortifying sip.

Extra large mocha with marshmallows, a caramel shot, whip cream and more caramel drizzled on top. Normally he’d be too self conscious to make it, but. Well. He has class after his shift ends, so he’ll stumble back to his dorm at around six, and then he’s got his readings, a test at the end of the week to study for as well as a paper due.

So. Extra large comfort drink. Besides, it’s not like anyone ever comes in before sev-

The bell above the door jingles.

Martin stares, mouth agape.

Three of possibly the drunkest university students Martin has ever seen stumble in, laughing uproariously. He doesn’t say that lightly; working in a coffee shop near a university means he has seen his fair share of drunken students. But this. This is something he’s never seen before.

It is five thirty am on a Wednesday.

The least drunk of the lot, which isn’t a high bar to start with, stumbles up to the counter and squints up at the menu. He’s offensively jock-y and tall. Martin nearly locks up out of sheer high school fueled muscle memory. 

After a painful pause where Martin is sure he’s going to have to read the menu to the guy, he slurs out, “I’ll…. Have a coffee. Biggest y’got.”

Martin nods uncertainly. The jock pats his pockets and pulls out a tenner, though, so… it’s probably fine? He rings up the order. 

The jock lurches back suddenly and Martin jerks forwards to catch him but- oh. He’s just turned to yell at his friends.

“What’d’you want?” He yells, though the shop is small enough that it’s not really necessary.

The other two are busy giggling as the woman tries to hold up the other man, mostly unsuccessfully. The guy looks up through a messy mop of dark curly hair and stops dead, staring at Martin. His mouth falls open a little which is a little charming, maybe.

“Jooooooon,” The jock whines impatiently. “Jooon what’d’ya waaaant?”

“Him!” Jon blurts, and Martin goes red so fast he nearly blacks out. 

Look! Look, in his defense, the guy is- Jon is- he’s attractive, even as sloshed as he is, and Martin knows that it is very much the alcohol talking and not actually genuine, it’s still- weirdly flattering? And. The name jogs his memory and suddenly Martin’s very aware that this is Jon, as in Jon one of his TAs in his Thursday’s eight am history class, as in Jon the only reason Martin survives that class somedays because he’s clever, and has a surprisingly dry sense of humor, and is maybe really cute. Who Martin’s maybe been nursing a crush on for the past semester. 

“I’m- not for sale?” His mouth says, which is… terrible. He finds a way to go redder. 

Jon makes a disappointed sound, which is hopelessly cute. The jock looks slightly more sober and concerned. 

“Sorry,” he says, and smacks a hand against his face. “Eurgh, Jon. Don’t hit on the employees, that’s skeevy. You’re not a skeevy drunk.”

Jon nods seriously. “No, Imma disa- dissass- disassponment.” To Martin’s horror, Jon’s eyes look a little shiny at the pronouncement. 

“No!” The jock, the woman, and Martin say immediately. The woman smacks him upside the head gently. 

The jock turns back to Martin apologetically. “Sorry. Our friend’s a degree'n a half inna program’n’just realised is- it’s shit.”

Martin winces. The jock nods. “Went, maaaaaybe a lil overboard tryin’a cheer him up. So. Coffee?” 

“I’ve still only got your order.” Martin points out.

“Right!” The jock swivels around again. “Jon! Sasha! What’d you waaant? ‘Nd nooo Jon you can’t have a person.”

“Extra large, two sugars, no cream, shot of espresso, please and thank you Tim!” Sasha says, remarkably coherent, and Martin dutifully adds it to the order before chancing a look at Jon. 

His nose is scrunched up. It’s adorable. Martin is dying. “I dun like coffee.” He says petulantly. 

Martin, who has never seen Jon enter their history class without a coffee cup, very much doubts that. 

Tim’s brow furrows. “Yes y’do. Y’drink it so much.” He says, echoing Martin’s thoughts. 

Jon shakes his head. “No. Dun like it. Issa nece- necesss- like a medicine. Need it, dun like it.”

Tim and Sasha look dumbfounded. Martin chews his lip.

“I don’t like coffee much either,” he says. “I could make you my regular order?”

Jon beams at Martin. “Yes please!” Martin… doesn’t go into cardiac arrest, but it’s a near thing. 

He finishes ringing up their order, stealthily gives them his employee discount, gets Tim his change and goes to start making up their drinks with burning red ears. 

The three stagger their way to a table. There’s the occasional burst of laughter, but beyond that Martin tries not to listen too closely. He makes up their order quickly, as well as three cups of water. Takes a moment to settle himself, and then brings the drinks over on a tray.

The three chorus thank you’s (to varying degrees of success) as he sets out the drinks. Martin goes to give Jon his drink, and Jon grabs his wrist loosely before he can pull away.

“Jon,” Tim says warningly. 

“No,” Jon shakes his head wonderingly. “No, is just. ‘M pretty sure you’re the love o’ my life.” He blinks slowly. “Your eyes are really nice. You’re really nice.”

Martin carefully disentangles his hand. “Thank you? And enjoy your drinks?” He makes his escape and manages not to run to the backroom, which he’s very proud of.

He needs a lie down.  

Chapter Text

The heat of the coffee cup in his hand feels accusatory. Martin tries his best to ignore it as he makes his way across campus.

It is much earlier than he's usually up by on a Thursday morning. He'd woken an hour before his alarm, with the conviction that he needed to do something . That conviction held up through him going to the coffee shop on his day off, ordering his usual comfort drink and about halfway to his class before giving out.

It’s more than a little stupid. Jon takes his professionalism very seriously, and Martin has no desire to jeopardise either of their academic careers. But, maybe, after this semester ends…

Your eyes are really nice.

He's being so, so stupid. 

The main building is in front of him sooner than usual. And then the door to his history lecture stares at him. He goes to open it and hesitates. The coffee is very warm in his hand. 

Okay, this time he’ll really open it. He goes for the door handle and-

You’re really nice.

He drops his hand like it’s been scalded. It’s been just over a day, and Martin is still pink faced. 

This isn’t fair! He knows it meant nothing- probably less than! Jon was so drunk he most likely didn’t even remember his own name, let alone Martin’s. 

But. Maybe he does know Martin’s name? Maybe he knows Martin exists, even just a little? Maybe?

And that’s the problem. That’s why Martin has his usual morning shift comfort drink clutched in his other hand. Jon’s usually at least fifteen minutes early every day, and he seemed to like the coffee (or at least, Jon’s cup had been empty when he’d gone to clean up the table). So. He’ll just… go in, go up to Jon, give him the coffee and maybe see if he wanted to get dinner or something, after the end of this semester? And then if- when- if he says no, then Martin crawls into a hole somewhere for the rest of his life.

If he says yes ...

He feels a little nauseous at the thought.

‘M pretty sure you’re the love o’ my life.

He’s opening the door before he can overthink it, and looks defiantly at Jon’s usual seat at the front of the room and- his seat’s empty. Martin’s shoulders slump and he feels more than a little bit silly. All that over nothing.

He’s still very aware of the coffee cup in his hand. He bites his lip. This morning he'd had his preferred cup of tea instead, and too much caffeine made him jittery.

He goes up to Jon's spot anyway and places the cup on his chair before he can overthink it. He speed walks to the back of the room and flops down into his seat. The back of his neck is hot.

If Jon doesn't show up, he'll just go up and toss it after class.

Martin rubs his face roughly before resolutely pulling out his notes. Ostensibly he spends the next fifteen minutes prepping for the class, but he keeps the door to the lecture hall in his peripheral. Jon doesn't show up when the other TAs show up. Or as the other students start to trickle in. Or when the professor arrives and starts setting up her laptop. He's not worried, per se, but he is… apprehensive, when the professor starts the class and Jon still hasn't shown up. He hasn't so much as missed a day all semester.

The professor is five minutes into her lecture when Jon bursts into the room. 

Martin sucks in a sharp breath. He looks… not good, and that's being charitable. Martin can clearly see bags under his eyes, even given how far back he's sat from the front. It looks like he just rolled out of bed after a truly prodigious bender, which, Martin supposes, is probably accurate. 

He also notes that Jon's without his usual coffee, though given his miserable stagger to his seat, he very much doubts that that was a voluntary choice. 

Jon waves an apologetic hand at the professor, and Martin can see the exact moment he notices the coffee cup (and its logo) on his chair. 

Jon freezes, face going even paler, and he whips his head around to scan the room. 

His eyes land on Martin, who stops breathing. Does he-?

Jon's gaze moves on without any sign of recognition. He glances around suspiciously for another long second, before finally turning back. The hope in Martin's chest dies a grisly death. He doesn't remember. It was all drunken nonsense, as he'd suspected. That's… fine.

Martin focuses very hard on the front of the room, maybe blinking a little more than strictly necessary. It's fine. 

Still, he notices Jon, now in his seat, taking a cautious sip of the coffee. And then another, heartier one. So. There's that, at least. Martin's strange drink making talent remains unchallenged. 

He resigns himself to avoiding Jon for the rest of the semester, and refocuses on the professor.

*

And that would’ve been that, except…

Martin would have thought that Jon would put the incident out of his mind as a mildly embarrassing drunken escapade. Like, maybe Sasha or Tim would poke at him about it, but given how liquored Jon was, Martin highly doubts he remembers any part of the night with clarity. 

However, two points keep undermining his working theory. 

For one, before the Coffee Incident, Jon had seemed… apathetic, to put it generously, towards the students in the class. It was obvious that he had taken this job for reasons besides the joy of assisting teaching. Now, he took an uncharacteristic interest in the group. Throughout a lecture, he’ll subtly scan the room, as though looking for some sign as to who left him the coffee. Martin’s not really sure what he thinks he’ll see? And he’s not wholly certain Jon knows either? Which really shouldn’t be endearing, and yet?

The second point is the crux of the problem, though. After Jon comes in in the morning and does his now customary suspicious glance around, he’ll look at his empty seat, and… his shoulders will slump. Almost as if he’s disappointed. 

Martin’s probably projecting. He knows that. 

… He still buys his comfort drink next week anyway, and gets to class before anyone else can to leave the coffee on Jon’s chair. Just to see. 

Waiting for class to start this time is even worse than before. He’s being presumptuous. Jon’s going to think he’s mocking him. Someone actually saw him leave the coffee, ratted him out, and Jon is going to come in and stare at him as he throws out the coffee...

Five minutes before class begins, Jon enters the lecture hall. Martin immediately ducks his head down and blindly flips through his notes. When he dares a quick peek up, he does a double take. Jon has actually stopped dead in the doorway, eyes fixed on the coffee cup. After a few seconds, he shakes himself slightly and continues on casually. Martin pretends to rifle through his bag, glancing over at Jon as inconspicuously as he can. Jon picks up the coffee with an exaggerated degree of suspicion, and inspects the cup thoroughly, turning it carefully in his hands, brows drawn in tight. He’s so absorbed in it that he actually startles when one of the other TAs tap him on the shoulder, which he tries and fails to play off coolly. 

Class starts soon after, meaning Martin has to drag his attention off of Jon and onto the professor. However, he still notes that Jon, like the first time, still drinks the entire coffee. Once, Martin could swear he saw a brief, faint smile on Jon’s face before he took a drink. 

Martin resigns himself (and his bank account) to the fact that he’s going to be leaving Jon anonymous coffees for the rest of the semester. At least his staff discount is good.

Chapter Text

It’s not entirely a surprise when Jon comes into the coffee shop. It’s so likely it strayed right into basically inevitable, so. Martin’s prepped for it.

It also helped that for the past week Jon has, for lack of a better word, been staking out the coffee shop. He’s obviously been trying to be discreet about it, but one can only stand across the street pretending to look at one’s phone for so long before it attracts attention. Jon doesn’t seem to be aware of that. So, Martin’s had time to come to terms with the fact that an incredibly awkward confrontation is going to take place. He’s made peace with it. He’s been stocking up on Ben and Jerry’s and has added several rom coms to his Netflix list. 

He’ll get through it. It’ll suck, but this semester is nearly over. Martin will hopefully never have another class with Jon, and Jon will likely avoid the coffee shop like the plague. It’ll be fine. 

When it actually happens, Martin is a little incredulous. There aren’t many moments in his life that has made him believe in a kind, caring universe. So when Jon does finally come into the coffee shop and Martin is in the back on break, he’s frankly floored at his luck.

He’s poking absentmindedly at his phone, tucked just out of the way of the door. It’s finals week, so business at the coffee shop is such that the owners can justify having two people on shift. He’s been listening with half an ear to his coworker, Lily, dealing with customers. He doesn’t pay much mind to the bell over the door ringing until Tim’s voice carries through the shop.

“-platonically spend a fortune on coffee? Come on, Jon.” He almost drops his phone. Did he actually just-

“This is entirely unnecessary!” Jon hisses angrily. Martin stares at the door to the backroom. Huh.

To be fair, in the long run, would it be easier for him to just get this over with? Yes. But Martin would very much like to put off Jon’s kind but ultimately humiliating rejection as long as possible regardless. He doesn’t think that that’s so unreasonable. 

Still, he chances a cautious peek around the door frame. Tim has both of his very large arms around Jon and is frog marching him forward. Jon looks pissed off, terrified, and perhaps most importantly of all, he is wearing an oversized hoodie.

The mental whiplash of oh fuck oh fuck am I really going to get away with this oh my god to oh..... hoodie.......... is a little dizzying. Martin is hit with the burning desire to steal the hoodie, which looks incredibly comfortable and almost definitely smells like Jon. 

Creepy! He chastises himself. Creepy creepy creepy!

Lily is somehow unaffected by the hoodie, and manages to greet Tim and Jon cheerily. Martin is in awe of her mental fortitude. He slowly pulls away from the door as the two get closer, heart pounding. 

“We’ve got a bit of a weird question,” Martin hears Tim say, sheepish and charming. 

He must nudge Jon, because there’s a heavy, put upon sigh. “Have you had a customer come in on Thursday mornings with an incredibly specific and complex coffee order?” Jon’s words aren’t as measured as they usually are, which is odd. 

“No? Sorry, you’ve just, like, described most people who come in here any day of the week.” Lily says.

Martin breathes out a sigh of relief. He even dares to hope he’ll actually get away with this, when he hears Jon pipe up, aggrieved. 

“Leave it, Tim. I told you, it’s probably just someone having a laugh. I don’t… really want confirmation of that.” His voice trails off at the end, obviously embarrassed, and hold on. Hold the fuck on. 

Martin scrabbles out of the backroom before he can really think about it. 

It was one thing when he’d thought Jon was disinterested and embarrassed but ultimately flattered. He’d thought they were on the same page, what with Martin anonymously and hopelessly pining. That was fine. 

This, though. This absolutely cannot fucking stand. 

“I’ve got this one,” Martin says to Lily, voice only trembling a little. She gives him a weird look, but shrugs and lets him take over the register. 

Martin can see the moment Jon recognises him. He looks… a little stupefied, actually, his mouth parted slightly. And while Martin would normally write it off as wishful thinking, Jon has gone undeniably pink. 

They stare at each other for a few seconds before Martin remembers himself. He clears his throat noisily and breaks eye contact. 

“Your regular, yeah? I’ll bring it over in a second.” He says, looking intently at the register. He rings up the order quickly and shoves a pocketful of change into the register when it opens. He zips off to make the coffee before Jon can say anything, heart in his throat. 

Jon elects to stand by the order counter rather than finding a table, though he stays quiet as Martin works. He’s hyper aware of him as his hands go through the practised motion of making his drink. Tim’s vanished, so it’s just him and Jon. 

He puts a lid on the drink and steels himself, feeling a little deja vu. He turns to Jon and puts the coffee on the counter.

“Jon, I’m not having a laugh, or pulling a prank, or anything like that. This isn’t a joke. Um.” He falters, not really having thought this far ahead. “That’s all. You don’t have to say or do anything, but, I just thought you should know.”

Jon opens the lid slightly to look at the coffee before looking back at Martin. “Have you got a pen.” He’s as unreadable as ever, but his voice shakes a little. 

Martin fumbles out a sharpie from his apron and hands it over. Jon grabs a napkin, writes something quickly and decisively, and hands both sharpie and napkin back. Mystified, Martin takes them. 

“I.” Jon clears his throat. “Appreciate the gesture.” He nods to himself before awkwardly adding, “Thank you.” And then he turns and leaves the shop.

Martin… is pretty sure he just got politely let down? Which sucks, frankly. But he can't bring himself to regret it. If the alternative was Jon thinking someone was making fun of him… yeah. He doesn’t regret it. 

He scrubs at his eyes with one hand.

Oh, the napkin. Right.

Martin is chagrined to see that he’d accidentally crumpled it. He straightens it out gingerly. Written in jagged script is ten numbers- a phone number. And under that: Your eyes really are nice.

Martin reconsiders everything he’s thought about anything, ever. He’s grinning wide and stupid, he knows. 

Quickly, he fumbles out his phone. It’s against company policy, but he can't bring himself to care. With shaking hands, he puts in Jon’s number (!!!) and after a minute, sends him a short message.

Want to grab a drink later?

His phone chimes nearly immediately after he sends the text.

As long as it’s not coffee, yes.

Martin is absolutely going to steal that hoodie.