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There is something comforting in the familiarity of a job.
In the warm scent of coffee that greets you as you walk through the door, in the hot gust of air that hits your face a nice contrast to the bitter cold outside. Remus Lupin loved his job. It was pretty standard, as far as jobs went, he picked up as many hours as he could between his classes at Uni. Most of his shifts were in the early morning hours, or the late evenings.
Costa’s weren’t exactly a well-kept secret. Remus was pretty sure he’d seen one every dozen or so minutes during his first trek through London. He’d been pleasantly surprised to realize there was one equal distance between his flat and the school.
His parents had been supportive of his decision to leave for school. They wanted him to do what was going to lead him down his best path, but he knew they wouldn’t be able to send him with much more than a small care package full of his mother’s baking, and the promise of more to come whenever they could. So he’d gotten the job to support himself, and it’d been one of the best decisions he’d ever made.
It took him approximately two weeks to start recognizing the regulars that popped into the cafe.
It took him one more week to be able to accurately put a name to their faces. There was the older gentleman who went by Charles - he ordered a flat black every other day. There was the girl who looked maybe a bit younger than Remus himself, who said her name was Leila, that ordered a cappuccino twice a week. And then there was the man that said his name was Sirius, who ordered whatever drink Remus happened to suggest on any of the three times he came in during the week.
From what he could tell, which admittedly wasn’t a lot, there was no set schedule. Sirius - if that was even his name - would drive his bike to the cafe, park it wherever he could find a spot, and then walk in with a grin on his face. As if his leather jacket and long hair were to be expected at this type of establishment. They actually were, Remus figured after their fourth meeting since he kept coming back.
This morning, he realized after opening the shop, wasn’t much different. It had been almost six months since he’d started working here (one month in and he’d been in love). He watched, with a quiet sort of anticipation building in his chest, as the familiarly smug smile grew closer to the door. When the bell chimed to announce his entrance, Remus turned his eyes away, looking to the counter to see if there was something he might be able to do there.
“Remus,” Sirius said with a heavy sigh, “give me a cup of your strongest, it’s been a night for the books!” Remus lifted his gaze and found himself a little taken aback by the dark circles forming under the other man’s eyes. His hands stilled as they hovered over the cloth he’d just been picking at.
“Alright,” Remus said after a moment, and then he turned and tried to figure out what strongest meant in this particular instance. He supposed espresso wouldn’t be a bad choice, but Sirius had always seemed to enjoy the sweeter drinks more than the bitter ones. Would that matter today? His hands started moving like clockwork, and he found his brain settle into the familiar rhythm.
“Y’know,” Sirius said a few minutes later, as Remus was settling a glass in front of him on the counter, “I think coming here is the thing I look forward to most during the week.” Slowly, he raised the cup to his lips and took a small sip.
Remus couldn’t stop the snort that escaped his throat at the expression Sirius wore once the taste hit him. He scrunched his nose up and closed his eyes with a frown. He held the cup slightly away for a second, before pulling it in for another sip. Although transfixed with the way he was drinking the coffee, Remus bent forward against the counter, his burgundy shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “That doesn’t surprise me.” He said.
Sirius opened one eye at that, raising a brow carefully before pulling the now empty cup away from his face. The stubble on his upper lip had caught bits of the drink, leaving it a similar color. “No?”
“We make the best drinks.”
Sirius rolled his eyes, “Well, you do at least.”
Remus narrowed his own eyes at this, “I just follow the recipes like everyone else.”
Without saying anything, they engage in a staring contest; Sirius’ expression full of incredulity, and Remus’ one of stubbornness. With a small smile just barely pulling at the corners of his lips, Sirius blinked, and then looked up at the ceiling before scrubbing his palms over his face. He drops his hands briefly, before looking back at Remus shyly.
“I have to apologize to you, Remus.” He said, his voice a bit tight. Remus can’t decide if it’s coming from embarrassment or anxiety.
“For what?”
“I know you’re not supposed to think about people in the service industry - like this.” He tries, raising a brow to see if that explained it. Remus pressed his lips together, straightening his posture, a bit but not taking his eyes away. “I think you’re cool.” He tried again.
“I think you’re cool too,” Remus said.
“I also think you’re cute.” Sirius raised his other brow, blinking once.
“Oh,” Remus said, nodding, “Okay.”
“Look - I know that I put you in an uncomfortable position.”
“Sirius -”
“And I don’t want you to feel obligated to give a response or - or to even continue talking to me like you do, but I wanted to tell you. It felt weird not to and my friend, James said -”
“Sirius.”
“What?”
“It’s fine - I mean, I’m not upset or anything like that.”
“But?”
Remus smiled, “No but. This is great.”
“Great?” It felt like they were playing an echoing game now. Sirius looked about a second from blowing a fuse.
“Brilliant.” And then, after a pause, “Hang on, you think I’m cute? What exactly does this entail?”
“I dunno,” Sirius shrugged, letting his lazy grin spread across his lips, “Take you out on a date?”