Chapter Text
Standing behind the counter of Lola’s Cafe, Fitz jaw dropped as one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen walked through the doors.
She was a petite brunette with warm brown eyes (just his type) and oh, God, she was heading right for him.
“What can I get you?” he managed to stammer out.
“One pumpkin spice latte, please.”
After two years at the cafe, Fitz learned not to judge his customers for their drink choices (except for that one regular who got a Caramel Macchiato with 14 pumps of caramel every day), but he couldn’t help but be a little disappointed that this particular woman had ordered the Basic™ drink of fall that was seemingly irresistible to the cafe’s female clientele.
“That’ll be $5.50. Can I get a name for the order?”
“Jemma, thanks,” the woman responded, as she swiped her card.
Fitz scrawled her name on the white paper cup, “Great. It’ll be ready at the end of the bar in a few minutes.”
Hunter had conveniently disappeared into the back, leaving Fitz to make her drink. Frothing the milk and brewing the espresso, he expertly whipped up the latte in record time.
Calling her name, Fitz handed the woman-- Jemma-- her drink, their fingers brushing in the process.
As she took a sip, Jemma’s face pulled into a grimace, “Ugh, that’s like sucking on a cinnamon stick.”
Holding back laughter, Fitz asked incredulously, “Have you never had a pumpkin spice latte before?”
“No, not exactly,” she replied, abashed. “I’m sorry for my reaction. That was terribly rude of me. I’m sure it’s well made and delicious if you like that sort of thing. I’m usually a tea drinker myself, but my friend Daisy convinced me to I absolutely had to try one.”
Fitz waved her off, “It’s fine. And I’ll let you in on a little secret-- I prefer tea myself. I actually hate coffee.”
“What are you doing working at a coffee shop if you don’t like coffee?”
He shrugged, “Gotta pay the bills somehow. I’m getting my PhD in engineering at MIT and the owner here is really great about working with my class schedule.”
“Really? I’m getting my PhD in Biochem there! I’m surprised we haven’t crossed paths before. I would have expected to meet you at one of Dean Weaver’s mixers, at least.”
“Not really a mixer type of guy,” Fitz said, before abruptly changing the subject. “Can I get you a tea to replace your latte? On the house, of course.”
Jemma smiled brightly, “That would be great. Earl grey, if you have it.”
“Coming right up.”
Grabbing a cup, Fitz took a deep breath. It was now or never-- Jemma could walk out the door and he might never see her again. Impulsively, he scribbled his number with a note on the cup: 555-347-6389. Text me if you wanna grab a cuppa (or dinner) sometime- Fitz
He handed the cup to Jemma before he could chicken out. As soon as he did, she glanced at her watch and practically bolted out the door, murmuring a quick goodbye.
Fitz’s heart sunk. Had he scared her off?
But not a minute later, he felt his phone vibrate in his apron. When he pulled it out, he had a text from an unknown number. I’d love that :) How about dinner tonight at Mack’s Burger Joint? 7pm?, it read.
Considering there were customers around, Fitz resisted the urge to let out a whoop. Instead, he typed back a quick reply, letting her know he’d be there.
Maybe pumpkin spice lattes weren’t so bad after all.