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Remy didn't want to be a barista. But he didn't have a choice. It was that, or getting sent into the military. His uncle said that making coffee was its own special kind of discipline, and Remy believed him. It also meant he could go to university and, well, not be in the military. He didn't have anything against the military but, no.
So he got a job at the university coffee shop, HumanBeans.
He figured he'd be able to last at least a few weeks before he hated himself and everyone else.
The thing was, the girl who managed the place and hired him, Lorna, she was nice. She had dyed green hair that clashed with everything but she wore it well, and she didn't take the job too seriously. Training, though, meant that Remy was thrown onto a shift behind one of the espresso machines, being passed cups labeled for drinks he'd never heard of, while a petite girl named Kitty explained to him what they were and how to use the steamers without burning himself.
About halfway through his first shift, things got really busy. A wiry guy about his own age with white hair rushed behind the counter and started helping Lorna with the registers.
“Who's he?” Remy asked.
“Pietro,” Kitty said. “Your milk's about to overflow.” Remy panicked as foam burst over the sides of the metal container. He dropped it, and as a result scalding milk sprayed everywhere. Kitty shrieked, Remy swore, and the cafe ground to a halt.
“I haven't seen a screw-up like that in ages,” said the white-haired guy apparently called Pietro. Lorna elbowed him, but he was smirking at Remy. “How did you manage that?” His voice had a slight accent that Remy couldn't place.
Kitty nudged him. “If you're not burned, we need to move on. Clean. You know, because we're making drinks for people.”
“Right,” Remy said, stuttering into action. The next half hour was a blur of cleaning, ignoring the burns on his hands, and making drink after drink and messing up at least five orders.
“Ugh,” Kitty muttered when the rush died down, “there's some people I wish would never come back, all they do is complain. But they're here every day.”
“I never knew people could be so particular about their coffee,” Remy said. He glanced at Lorna and Pietro, who seemed to be in deep conversation. “So, who's Pietro?”
“He's a bit of a dick,” Kitty explained. “Just moved here with his twin sister from Europe. Well, six months ago. She wanted to go to grad school here, and there's more opportunities anyway.”
“So he decided ta work in a cafe?” Remy asked.
Kitty shrugged. “Didn't want to go to grad school.”
“But most of the people here are students,” Remy pointed out. He was. He assumed Kitty and Lorna were.
Kitty nodded, which confirmed his assumption. “He says he can't suffer through classes.”
“Suffer,” Remy repeated. “Sounds pretentious.”
“And you know what else?” Kitty said, leaning closer to him and lowering her voice. “He's Lorna's half-brother. So she's kind of responsible for him.”
Remy nodded. “Why's his hair white? He's not secretly old, right?”
“Genetic anomaly,” Kitty said. “So, tell me how to make a vanilla latte.”
“You're quizzing me?” Remy asked. “Seriously?”
“You gotta learn,” Kitty said, grinning.
“I can't keep up with all these fancy drinks people want,” Remy said. “Why can't we just, I dunno, put espresso in a cup and let them do the rest?”
“Just wait till pumpkin spice season,” Kitty said. “Seasonal drinks are the best.”
Remy started to question his decision to avoid the military.
**
Pietro, as it turned out, managed when Lorna wasn't there. He was actually full time, whereas Lorna wasn't, but given that it was a mostly student-run place, people were switched out all the time. After two shifts with Lorna and Kitty to talk to, Remy got put on a slow shift with Pietro and a shy guy named Doug. Doug seemed intent on avoiding talking, and he was even worse at making coffee than Remy was. And he'd been working there for four months.
Remy knew that, because Pietro kept saying it. Things like, “You've been here for four months, Doug. How do you not know that you can't leave espresso sitting there for that long?” and “It's been four months and you can't remember to clean the steamer after each use?” and “After four months you haven't yet mastered the art of reading the labels on the cups, have you?”
“What're you studying?” Remy asked him, hoping to take his mind off the harshness.
“Linguistics,” Doug muttered. Remy almost laughed. A guy studying language who hated talking.
“That's cool,” Remy said. “And don't listen ta him. He takes this way too seriously.”
“It's fine,” Doug said. “He doesn't really have much else.”
Remy frowned. “What d'you mean by that?”
But Doug only shrugged and returned to scrubbing the counter. Pietro was standing by the registers looking like his thoughts were miles away. Remy caught himself staring, mostly at Pietro's hair. It was striking. His eyes moved to Pietro's face, and then his body. Everything about him seemed sharp, angular.
“Must you stare at me?”
Remy blinked. Pietro was watching him.
“Just wondering why you're such an asshole,” he said.
Pietro's eyebrows shot up. “Risky, coming from a new hire.”
“Maybe,” Remy said, “but I like being honest.”
“As do I,” Pietro said.
“I heard you came from Europe,” Remy said. “D'you know French? I know French.” Pietro shook his head. “What? That's surprising coming from someone so high and mighty. Doug, do you know French?”
Surprisingly, Doug said, “Yeah.”
“Doug knows French,” Remy said. “And you don't. D'you know Spanish? Probably not. Spanish is one of the most useful languages ta have in this country. You don't, do you.”
“I know enough,” Pietro said.
Remy stepped closer to him. “I also heard you weren't a student. Too good for school?”
Pietro's mouth twitched. “Something like that.”
“Or you couldn't get in.”
Pietro slammed his hand down on the counter, causing Remy, Doug, and at least half the cafe to jump. “Don't make assumptions about me,” Pietro hissed, “or I'll send you back to the deep fried pit that you came from.”
“Hey,” Remy said. There was a moment of silence, and he could feel quite a few eyes on him. “The South has the best food, ain't nothing ta be ashamed of.”
Pietro scoffed and pushed himself away from the counter, stalking into the back room.
Remy turned to Doug. “Wanna take the register?”
**
“You insulted his intelligence?” Lorna had her arms folded and was scrutinizing how well Remy could make a mocha. And how fast. Remy was sweating from handling so many warm things, and also from being stared at. “Are you insane?”
“Maybe,” Remy said. “Look, I know he's your brother and all, but--”
“Half brother,” Lorna said, “and I'm not used to it.”
“Right,” Remy said. “Well, he was just being an ass ta Doug and I felt bad.”
“That's because he is,” Lorna said. “It's not personal. He's just...he wants people to be more efficient. He likes efficiency.”
“He from Germany?” Remy asked.
“Transia,” Lorna said, and Remy shrugged and nearly knocked the cup off the counter because he had forgotten it was there. Luckily, he managed to finish the drink and hand it off to the customer with his most charming smile. He'd gotten a few women to stare at him and then smile back during his shifts. He had what people called charm.
“Is his sister anything like him?” Remy asked. “Because I'd hate ta be on the receiving end of both of them.”
“She's lovely,” Lorna said. “She's more empathetic towards people. They balance each other.”
“He's still an ass.”
“He's probably gonna kill you,” Lorna says.
“Fine,” Remy said. “It's on.”
**
The next day Remy had a Rubix cube resting next to the espresso machine. Kitty asked him why it was there, and he said he wanted to prove something. Which was true. When Pietro came in, Remy sauntered over and presented the Rubix cube, all mixed up, and said, “I bet you can't solve this.”
“Can you?” Pietro asked, taking it. “I doubt someone who exclusively thinks about what their latest one-night stand will be has much room for anything else.”
“It's just flirting,” Remy said, “and I can. Um, it takes some time, but I've done it. Once.” It took him two days. But he'd gotten impatient and given up.
Pietro turned his attention to the cube and began turning it over in his long-fingered hands. At first, Remy thought he was just trying to figure out a game-plan, but it soon became apparent, as Pietro's hands moved faster and faster, that he already had one. Soon, solid colors marked each side of the cube, and then Pietro tossed it at Remy, who caught it, stunned.
“Like, one minute,” Kitty said. She sounded amused.
“Puzzles aren't a mark of intelligence,” Remy pointed out, but he couldn't believe that Pietro had done that in a minute.
Pietro just smirked at him and turned away.
Remy glared at Kitty, who looked like she wanted to burst out laughing, and hissed, “You knew the whole time, didn't you.”
“Yup,” she said. “He's pretty smart.”
“Fuck!”
**
“You're on drinks,” Lorna said.
Remy looked up. Doug also looked up, and they both confirmed that Lorna wasn't talking to either one of them. She was looking at Pietro, whose face they couldn't see because his back was to them.
“Why am I on drinks?” Pietro asked.
“You need to get to know the new staff members better,” Lorna said, and Remy was pretty sure that he was the only new staff member, which meant-- “Besides, I actually want to train Doug on the register. Finally.”
“Doug is fine not being on register,” Doug said. “Ever.”
“You've been here long enough,” Lorna said. “Come here. Pietro, take his place.”
Doug looked like someone walking to their own execution. Remy watched as he passed Pietro, and Pietro gave him an oddly empathetic look that clearly said how much he thought what Lorna was doing was pointless. Then he was right next to Remy, and suddenly Remy felt the few weeks of training he'd had go right out of his head.
“If you don't burn me, we'll be fine,” Pietro said quietly.
“What makes you think I'd burn you?” Remy asked.
“Your hands,” Pietro said. Remy's hands were unsteadily holding a cup. He set it down and Lorna passed him another with elegant handwriting. He'd never seen elegant handwriting on a coffee cup before.
“Wow,” he said. “Doug has a talent.”
Pietro eyed the cup, and even he looked impressed. “Another reason for people to put their cups on Instagram.”
Remy began making the drink and Lorna passed another cup their way, with equally elegant handwriting. Pietro turned it over in his hands for a moment before starting the drink. At the registers, Doug seemed to be having a conversation with an older woman about their baked goods.
“He's actually pretty good at that,” Remy said.
“And yet he hides behind the machines.”
“Well if you didn't put him down all the time--”
“I never said he wasn't good at talking to customers,” Pietro said. “Just that he was terrible at making coffee.”
“I think he thought you thought he was bad at everything,” Remy said.
“He should know himself well enough to know that he isn't,” Pietro said.
“Not everyone has your ego,” Remy pointed out.
“I don't,” Pietro started, but then cut himself off, put a lid on his drink, and handed it off. Remy passed him another cup. “You think I don't have insecurities?”
“You act like you're immune,” Remy said. “But we're all in the same place, and not because we love coffee. In fact, I don't think I've ever seen you drink coffee.”
“I don't,” Pietro said. “The results are...not pleasant.”
“For you or for everyone else?”
“Both.”
They worked in silence for a few moments, listening to Doug actually being good at customer service. At least, they'd sold more baked goods with him on register than they had in a long time.
Lorna came up behind them and said, “I told you so.”
“I applaud your insight,” Pietro said.
“I may have to make this arrangement,” she gestured between the two of them and the espresso machines, “happen more often.”
“I take it back,” Pietro said. “I don't want more insight.”
“Maybe not, but you need it,” Lorna said, and then she walked away.
After a moment Pietro broke the silence with, “Do they even have coffee where you come from?”
Which wasn't ideal progress, but at least Pietro was willing to keep talking to him.
And talking was something Remy could work with.
**
Classes were boring. The cafe was a job, but at least it was entertaining. Remy got to know the others a bit more. Kitty was a very positive person, but also very honest. Lorna had moods, but she genuinely tried to be friendly to everyone, employees and customers alike. Doug didn't talk much, and he never really got better at making coffee, but they kept him around because it wasn't like you could make a career out of making coffee in this country anyway and they just needed another pair of hands. There were others who Remy didn't get to know as well because he often wasn't on their shifts. And there was Pietro, who'd taken to pacing around on shifts between the back room and the front when there were no customers.
Lorna hadn't put him back on drinks with Remy. Probably because last time, it ended with Pietro making Remy the drink from heaven and Remy enthusiastically telling Lorna about it, and how her brother probably wasn't terrible, for half an hour. Also, that he was really good at making mystery coffee drinks. All Lorna had said was, “Not you two.”
Right now, Pietro was in the back.
“I wonder what he does back there,” Remy said to Doug. “Must be interesting.”
“Inventory,” Doug said.
Lorna was arguing with a customer about how they weren't selling their summer iced teas anymore and the customer seemed to think that season didn't matter. It caught Remy's attention when this customer, a middle-aged man, snapped, “I knew this was a minimum wage job but I didn't know they let absolute idiots run the show.” This being after Lorna told him that she was, in fact, the manager.
“Excuse me,” Lorna said. Her expression had hardened, dangerously.
“If it's beyond your intellectual capacity to make a simple pomegranate iced tea,” the man said, “then--”
Pietro burst through the back doors at this point, cutting the man off. He strode right up to the counter and leaned over it, getting as close to the man as possible. “You,” he snapped, “do not get to insult her. You do not get to insult anyone who is doing something for you that I bet you can't even do yourself. You're a sad old fuck insulting minimum-wage baristas because you apparently can't tell what season it is. So you don't get to talk. You can fuck off.”
One of the other customers made a low “ooooohhh” sound that echoed throughout the now silent cafe. The man was red in the face. He spluttered and then turned and stormed outside, leaving the doors swinging behind him.
Lorna turned to Pietro. “You can't say those things to people.”
“He insulted you,” Pietro said.
“I can handle a few insults,” Lorna said. She didn't look angry. She almost looked relieved. “I know you meant well. But. He's going to file a complaint, and the higher-ups are going to hear about it. Don't you know what customer service is?”
“They cease to be customers when they become insulting,” Pietro said. “I won't let them step all over us just because we're--”
“I know,” Lorna said. “But that's not how it works all the time. People complain about anything. And we're replaceable here.”
Pietro made a noise of frustration and retreated to the back room. Lorna groaned.
Remy had a feeling that had he not said those things, she would've.
**
Lorna schedule him to open with Pietro on one of the weekends, just so Remy could get trained on how to open the cafe, which would allow for more variation in the schedule. Also, because Kitty had complained about opening three Saturdays in a row, and it was seriously ruining her social calendar.
Pietro was in the back room gathering the various ingredients they used for drinks to put in the front. “Start baking,” he said, and Remy grabbed a bunch of frozen muffins and scones and began setting them up on trays.
They worked in silence. Pietro occasionally would break it to say what he was doing, and Remy would reply with an, “Alright,” and then they'd stop talking again. It was weird being there with no customers.
“Remy,” Pietro called as he was waiting for a batch of scones to be done, “do you want to see how the espresso machines are turned on? Or are you afraid they'll scald you.”
“That was once,” Remy muttered, but he walked over anyway. “I thought they were just always on.”
Pietro gave him a “don't-be-an-idiot” look. “No, because that would be unsanitary and possibly a fire hazard. Do you leave your oven on all day?”
“Right,” Remy said. Pietro inserted a compartment full of coffee beans into the top of the machine. This early in the morning, they smelled like heaven. Remy craned his neck so he could see, and then Pietro pressed a few buttons at the top and then gestured towards the front.
“You have to let it run a few shots,” he said, pressing the appropriate buttons.
They finished, and Remy stood there expectantly but Pietro said, “Enjoy the quiet while you can.”
“So,” Remy said, angling his head towards the machine, “any chance of one of your wonderful drinks while we wait?”
“We're not actually supposed to make drinks for ourselves while on shift,” Pietro said. “Unless it's on break.”
“So you broke the rules just for me?” Remy smirked. “How nice of you.”
“You wouldn't stop talking,” Pietro said. He looked around the area, seemed to decide that there was nothing else to do, and sighed. “Fine. Don't get used to it.” He grabbed a cup and started gathering ingredients.
Remy jumped onto the counter to sit, legs dangling over the edge. Pietro gave him a disapproving look but said nothing. Remy decided that they'd have an Actual Conversation. “So what d'you do in your free time?”
“I run,” Pietro said.
Remy stared at him. “That's it?”
“I explore the city,” Pietro said. “I get to know Lorna. I self-educate.”
“Well, I guess it's cheaper than going ta class,” Remy said. “Any, uh, love interests?” He'd heard that his sister was dating a computer nerd, and Lorna was dating some blond guy. He'd never heard about Pietro being with anyone.
“I don't sleep around,” Pietro said.
Remy laughed. “I'm not talking about that. What, you don't have time for love?”
“I have no particular interest,” Pietro said. He thought about it. “And, I want someone who can keep up.”
“'Cause you're smart,” Remy said. He rolled his eyes. “You'd think at a university you'd find a few people who fit the bill, no?”
“It isn't just about intelligence,” Pietro said.
“You want a running partner?” Remy asked.
Pietro actually laughed. “Not that kind of keeping up. Why so many questions?”
“You never talk about yourself,” Remy said. “Like, you know that I'm from New Orleans and I'm a student here and I'm a good cook and I flirt a lot with the women who come in here. And I've, I will admit, had some relations with a few of them. Small things, nothing serious. They're fun. They're nice. The feeling of another person with you. You know. Well, maybe you don't.”
“I know,” Pietro said. “Your drink.” He slid it over to Remy, who took the warm cup in his hands. He hadn't even been paying attention to what Pietro had put in it.
Pietro was watching him. Remy took a sip and closed his eyes. Warm, sweet-but-not-too-sweet, with a bit of a bitter kick to let you know that it was probably working to keep you awake. When he opened his eyes Pietro was looking at him like he was trying to figure something out. Remy licked his lips just because he could, and Pietro turned his attention back to the espresso machine, to wipe down the steamer.
“It's been a long time, hasn't it,” Remy said. He slid off the counter, which caught Pietro's attention, and gestured to the back room. “I'm just saying, if you want a little taste--”
Pietro grimaced. “What would I get out of doing something in a storage room?”
“The thrill of doing things where you're not supposed ta,” Remy said. “I mean, you're cute. I'm hot. It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.”
Pietro stared at him. “You can't be serious.”
“You afraid?”
“I was under the impression that you preferred women,” Pietro said.
“I prefer a lot of things,” Remy said. “Afraid?”
Pietro watched him for a moment. And then something changed in his expression. He seemed to go from “what-is-wrong-with-you” to “screw-it” in a few seconds. He didn't need to say anything. Remy moved forward and rested a hand on Pietro's cheek. Pietro dropped the cloth he'd been using to clean the steamer.
It had taken a while to get passed the asshole-ishness, but Pietro was, in fact, cute.
“I understand,” he said, “if you're too high and mighty ta do this sorta thing.”
“Shut up,” Pietro muttered, and he shoved Remy through the double doors. Before he could do anything else, Remy pushed Pietro against one of the storage shelves, which rattled ominously. They looked at each other, a moment of “are-we-really-doing-this,” and then Remy pressed his lips against Pietro's.
Pietro kissed back, hungrily, and Remy carded his hand through Pietro's hair. He could feel Pietro's long fingers tangling in his own hair, could hear short gasps for air but couldn't tell who it was. Pietro let himself be pressed against the shelves, and Remy let Pietro keep doing that thing with his hair because it was nice and vaguely comforting, and he wondered whether this was real affection or a game of sexual chicken gone too far.
A loud DING interrupted them, and Remy stumbled back.
Pietro checked his watch and swore.
“The scones,” Remy said, weakly.
“The customers,” Pietro said, before rushing out front.
Remy took a moment to himself. He wanted to cherish the look on Pietro's face, right as they broke apart. He actually had looked content, and relaxed, and not impatient or annoyed or strained or reserved or any of the other things that weren't open. And that, well, that was nice.
Remy liked doing that to people.
“The scones!” Pietro called.
Remy rushed out front.
**
Pietro wasn't in the next day, which was odd. When he asked Lorna where he'd been, she gave him a funny look and said, “He was fired.'
“What? Is this because of what we did?”
“What?” Lorna's eyes narrowed. “What did you do?”
It clearly wasn't, so Remy backtracked. “Sorry, I meant what he did. With—ohhhh, is this because of the guy?”
“Yes,” Lorna sighed. “I tried to convince them to keep him because he's good, he's fast, he gets things done, but they just, you know, the customer's always right and all that.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” Lorna ran a hand through her hair. “He's a bit upset about it. It'll be hard to get another job. And, believe it or not, I'll miss working with him.”
“Not sure I will,” Remy said, because Pietro wasn't so much fun to work with as he was apparently fun to do other things with. “But I can see how you would, him being your brother and all.”
“I know he's difficult,” Lorna said, “but his heart's in the right place.”
“Yeah,” said Remy. “Too bad his mouth and brain are in a completely different area.”
**
He didn't see Pietro for three days, and when he finally saw him, it was because he was walking through the park and Pietro was sitting on a bench, reading a book. As Remy got closer, he saw it was something about US politics.
Pietro looked up when Remy sat down, frowning, like he couldn't understand why Remy was there. But Remy smiled and said, “Did you know you were getting fired when you let me kiss you?”
“Possibly,” Pietro said.
Remy nodded. “So, what're you doing now?”
“Reading,” Pietro answered.
“I meant with your life,” Remy said, glaring at him.
“Right,” Pietro said. He frowned. “I don't know. I always find myself interested in one thing and then I move on, and I can never get anything to stick. I don't know what I want. And what I do want won't be enough.”
“Why not?” Remy asked.
“I have standards,” was all Pietro said.
“We all have standards,” Remy said. “Why--” Pietro gave him a dark look that dried up the rest of the question. “Whatever you do next probably beats working in a coffee shop.”
“Perhaps,” Pietro said. “I would have become bored with the job within a few months.”
“You know, I'm a bit of a delinquent,” Remy said. “Was almost shipped off ta the military. Decided ta get an education instead. Also I don't really like guns.”
“Or discipline,” Pietro muttered.
“Point is, we're all at a crossroads here,” Remy said. “We're young. We can relax a bit, enjoy ourselves.”
“Waste time,” Pietro said, like it was distasteful.
“Is it a waste if it's making you happy?” Remy asked.
“If it isn't useful--”
“Fuck useful.”
“I'm not sure if I want to kill you or congratulate you,” Pietro said. “You've completely figured out how to get through the uncertainties of life.”
“Don't be an ass,” Remy said.
Pietro smirked. “Isn't that why you like me?”
“I don't--”
“You proposed the activity in the back room,” Pietro said.
“'The activity in the back room'?” Remy repeated. “You sound like...a scientist talking about an experiment or something. Have I asked you what's wrong with you yet? What's wrong with you?”
“I have taste,” Pietro replied. He licked his lips. “Occasionally it fails.”
“Thanks,” Remy said.
Pietro just smirked, leaned forward, and kissed him.
“Is this a waste of your time?” Remy asked.
Pietro rested his head on Remy's shoulder. “Surprisingly, not yet. But knowing you, it will be soon.”
“Thanks,” Remy muttered. “But, you know, it could be a while. I've heard I'm worth wasting a lot of time on.”
He only got a soft laugh in reply.