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It’s an unwritten bullet in the job description: Be prepared to get hit on.
Kei learned this over the years of being a barista. He’s heard even his friends gush about his line of work and its appeal, and being in a service-oriented field means he has to endure unwanted attention to some extent. Kei has been there many times, and it's never been too difficult for him to politely deflect too-friendly remarks.
But at times, someone pushes it so much they make Kei wish he were a wildlife biologist in the depths of the Amazon with no contact with other humans whatsoever.
Itou—one of those customers who will buy the second cheapest drink in the menu, will take forever to finish the 12 ounces, and will never leave a tip. Those are how Kei knows he doesn't come here for his coffee. But he does come here a lot, and if the way he always stares at his ass—painstakingly obvious like he wants Kei to notice—is not enough tell, then hanging around with a cold 300-yen cappuccino is just the clue he needs to figure out what the man is really after.
“Come on, Kei-chan,” he bristles at the use of his first name, “Just a minute to sit and drink coffee with your regular?” The guy flashes him a confident grin, as if he's given any indication that he will ever accept that request.
“Sorry, Itou-san. I have other customers to serve.” He doesn't, to be honest. Evenings tend to mean slower business for a coffee shop. But that's the point.
“Eh, that's no fun, isn't it? You look bored, too. I can show you a good time, I promise.” The sickening grin doesn't leave his face and if Kei looks at it long enough, he may actually throw up.
“No, thanks. I'm fine, really.”
A table order comes and the part-time waitress delivering it, Yachi, glances once at Itou. She offers Kei a sympathetic and almost panicked look. He’s just thankful for the nice timing.
He moves to the other side of the bar, almost to the farthest corner to make the two iced coffees. Dark beans slide into the conical burr grinder and he adjusts the settings for a fine espresso grind. The machine starts to hum softly, a familiar sound that loosens Kei's muscles a little. He didn't notice he was tense.
“It should be fine, right? Just consider it an extra service for a loyal patron.”
Kei sucks in a breath. Of course, Itou follows him across the bar. He prepares cups as an excuse to not face the guy and starts to wonder—not for the first time—if his paycheck is worth all this trouble.
“No, I'm working right now.” He's rapidly losing his patience, tone not the least bit placating anymore.
Itou makes a noncommittal hum. “Then what about after your shift? It's perfect, we can even go somewhere with alcohol!” The blonde clenches his teeth over a sigh. “It'll be fun, Kei-chan! We can go as soon you're done, I know you're off in an hour!”
Kei's blood runs cold.
He doesn't even want to go through the implications of that last sentence, turning too quick it gives him whiplash because this guy is clearly fucking insane–
“He already has a date,” a deep voice floats in the air before Kei could drop any precaution and explicitly threaten a customer with a lawsuit or a restraining order or both.
When he finally gets to look, Itou is leaning too far into the counter and a larger man looms behind him. Kei recognizes him to be one of the café regulars—with that familiar olive-brown hair and tall stature that makes him stick out like a sore thumb.
Itou straightens up in an attempt to level with the guy but he's still three or four inches short. Besides, it doesn't matter if they were the same height, the man looks like he can snap human bones as easy as stepping on stray twigs in the park.
“And I suppose that's you?” The asshole tries to sound unimpressed even though he's visibly intimidated.
“Yes, you suppose right,” he answers with the most deadpan tone Kei has ever heard from anyone, including himself. Then he turns to the blonde and catches him off guard with a small, kinda stiff smile. “I'm sorry, I know it's too early to pick you up. I was excited to see you.”
Kei, in a bout of shock and confusion, replies quite dumbly, “Uh, no. It's fine.”
Itou gapes at him then, bewilderment clear in his eyes as if he actually feels like Kei betrayed him. For all the intellect Kei knows he owns, he has no idea where that is coming from.
“That's—” Itou starts but he doesn't get to the rest when the taller man shoots him a stern look. Even Kei can feel the intensity from behind the bar.
Itou shuts his mouth. He glares between the two of them, looks down, and begrudgingly stalks off towards the exit—not before downing his cappuccino from across the tabletop and slamming the cup down.
A beat of silence settles with Kei stupidly fixated on a spot on the man's white loose sweatshirt. What the hell just happened. The guy who just caused the scene sits on one of the bar stools in a manner that says ‘nothing to see here.’
Kei’s head empties. The guy sets his laptop up.
A few more moments pass, then olive orbs meet his golden-brown ones. He flinches. “Espresso macchiato, please. Double and plain.”
Kei feels his face heat up.
He was not just caught staring.
He was not staring period.
He’s frantic when he turns to the machines, pouring lighter-flavored beans into another grinder. He starts it up, then removes the freshly ground coffee from the previous one. He then serves the man sparkling water, and Kei swears he doesn’t avoid his gaze.
After that, the blonde falls into the familiar pattern of brewing, adding milk, and flavored syrup. The motions come easy until he doesn’t realize he’s ringing Yachi up. When she notices Itou isn't there anymore, she heaves a sigh and offers him a relieved smile. Really, she hasn't worked there that long but she stresses too much for others.
She catches sight of the tall man, though, and her eyes widen so quickly it’s almost comical. Pink tints her cheeks and she scurries off with the tray of two iced coffees.
Well.
Yeah, the guy’s popular after all.
He's a recurring topic among the waiting staff and the baristas alike. If Itou is the worst possible frequenter, he's probably the gold in a pile of garbage. All the things a server can ever hope for in a customer, he has them.
His orders are consistent: the double shot espresso macchiato he finishes in three sips, and a follow-up caffè latte that lasts him until he wraps up whatever he's working on in his laptop. He tips heavily—Kei doesn't know how someone who has a lot of time to spend in a coffee shop can still make so much. And he doesn't talk more than necessary, which is why until now no one knows his name.
Well, at least the constant fuss over his good looks at the back of the café is now justified in Kei's mind. He's familiar with the man's general features, but he only ever sits in that one corner table, and Kei can't really be bothered to leave his station and check the specifics. He is handsome, now that Kei is seeing him up close at the bar.
Right. There's still that to settle.
‘He already has a date’ echoes so loud and so suddenly in his head it almost makes his vision spin.
Kei makes quick work of the espresso macchiato. He sets it next to the brunette's laptop, the guy muttering a low ‘thank you’.
“You didn’t have to do that, you know?” is the first thing that comes out of his mouth. The brunette stirs his coffee. “I could’ve handled it myself.”
The man looks up from the cup but his face is just a blank. A moment. Then he's looking back down and resuming his stirring. “Yes, I'm sure.” It's said in monotone, and for some reason, that makes it even more irritating.
“What's that supposed mean?” He crosses his arms in front of him.
“I am aware you were capable of getting rid of him.” He puts the little spoon down and brings the coffee to his lips. Kei absolutely does not follow the bobbing of his throat as he swallows the beverage down.
“Then why did you step in?” he probes.
“I wanted to offer you an option to do that without losing your job.”
Kei winces.
It's true that he was about to snap at a customer. Shitty or not, Itou was also still a regular. He knows this guy saved his ass, and since the man is still sitting at the bar instead of his usual spot, he's probably be expecting something.
“And I suppose you want a thank you for that.”
The brunette puts his cup down. He peers at Kei again, this time calculating.
His nape dampens with sweat. It was an offhanded comment, rhetorical at best and yet the man is taking too much time to answer as if he just asked why the Red Sea isn’t always red.
The eventual response, however, is an anticlimactic, “No, not really.”
Kei resists the urge to pull his hair out.
“Why are you still here, then? Don’t you have a favorite spot or something.”
At that, they both look towards the mentioned corner table. There are two women, probably the ones who ordered the iced coffees if the cups are anything to go by. Kei wills another blush away.
“Well... there are people there.”
He huffs. Yes, I can see that.
“Do you want me to go?”
Kei’s mouth opens on instinct but he shuts it quick in favor of assessing the other. It’s a plain question but what does it actually mean? Is the guy offended? Is he testing?
The blonde scrunches his nose; he tries to decipher that stupidly pretty face. The brunette returns his scrutiny with an astoundingly dry expression.
They have a stare-down.
Kei loses.
“Forget it.” He groans.
They operate in silence after that exchange. The man types away at his laptop and orders a latte when he finishes his espresso. Kei is left to his devices, definitely not fidgeting and not pointedly looking at anywhere but the attractive man at the far side over the bar. The rest of the evening is uneventful.
At least, the rest of his shift is.
After he clocks out and changes, he throws a final glance at the brunette just in time for him to close his laptop and pinch the bridge of his nose. Kei hurries out the door before any more awkward meeting of eyes and not-blushes occur.
What he doesn’t account for is how cold the air outside is compared to the humidified café. His skin crawls almost immediately, arms flying to squeeze around himself. Autumn nights have always been chilly but it’s late in the season; Kei’s turtleneck sweater isn’t cutting it.
“Cold out here alone?” The voice grates his ears. “What’s wrong? Your date ditch you?”
Itou rises from the sidewalk.
“Hah. I knew it.”
A sudden wave of nausea hits him. Itou is from there, on the sidewalk, waiting to corner him for who knows how long now. He underestimated how deranged the man actually is.
“I’ve loved you from the day I first saw you in there, how can you not see that?”
Itou steps closer, and he instinctively steps back. The other notices and bites his lip. Kei may have seen a trickle of red, he can’t be sure in the dark.
“See, it’s only me who can love you this much. Other people don’t care about you like I do. They’ll all judge you and discard you, but I’m different!”
Those aren’t words Kei hasn’t heard before. His stomach drops. He hugs himself closer.
“That’s why–”
The scent of cedarwood engulfs the blonde. He knows because his brother uses the same cologne, the one he will never admit to liking. He barely registers that it’s gotten warmer before he’s looking at a stoic face by his side.
The fabric of the coat is smooth under Kei’s fingers. He clings to it because it’s snug and warm around him. There’s a soft pressure on his waist, an arm draped over his back most likely. He doesn’t check.
“Sorry I took long, they had gotten my tab mixed up with someone else’s.” A lie. He knows for a fact that the brunette always pays with cash and he already paid for his drinks when he received the latte.
This time, Kei’s response is a nod.
“What the fuck.” Itou’s eyes are livid. Again, his face screams betrayal and Kei tries to remember if he has in any way accidentally made Itou think he’s interested.
No, he’s sure he hasn’t.
“For what reason do you keep approaching my boyfriend?”
Boyfriend. Boyfriend. Boyfriend.
Kei doesn’t even know anymore what he’s supposed to feel about this. When he peers at the tall man’s face, he sees him making a darn good impression of someone looking at dirt on their shoe. It’s directed at Itou and the jerk is rendered speechless.
“Clearly, he’s inconvenienced by your persistence. Kei is too kind to tell you upfront, but that does not mean I’m letting it slide.” Kei. Kei. Kei. His brain is short-circuiting but he can still vaguely laugh in the back of his mind at this person’s choice to use the adjective ‘kind’ for him. “Consider this a warning.”
That’s all that needs to be said. The hard expression on his not-boyfriend’s face conveys the rest of the message.
There’s a nudge at his back. Kei’s feet move on their own.
“You’re going to have to lead the way,” the blonde shudders when the deep voice whispers low and close in his ear. “I don’t know which way your home is.”
Kei consciously fixes his sight on his feet as they step ahead of each other. He hopes that’s enough to hide how tingly all of this is making him feel. But his ears and cheeks are hotter than the rest of him, and the sheer power of his will is not enough to put things back to normal.
Soon enough, they turn a corner. His apartment is two streets from here. The reality of everything crashes on him at once.
He pulls away.
Kei squashes the irrational piece of his brain that misses the press of a hand on his hip.
“What do you want from me?” is what he says instead of the ‘thank you’ at the tip of his tongue.
That’s how this works, isn’t it?
“What do you mean?” Again, with that blank face. Kei is hit with an overwhelming urge to punch it.
“I don’t even know your name, and I assume you only know mine because of my employee name tag,” he steels his glare, “Yet you helped me two times now—which I didn’t need, by the way—so I’m asking you, what do you want from me?”
The man tilts his head.
He’s thinking.
Or at least, that’s what it looks like.
“I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that I’m going to take anything from you, I assure you I’m not a thief or anything of the sort.”
Hah? What?
“And my name is Ushijima Wakatoshi. I hope that makes us even.”
Kei gawks at him.
Why does it feel like the man is apologizing?
Actually, he did say ‘sorry.’
He blurts out a strange noise in his confusion because this guy may or may not actually be stupid. He doesn’t look like he’s trying to be funny.
“No, that’s not what I mean.”
Ushijima’s gaze hones in on him. It pricks under Kei’s skin. “I am afraid I don’t understand.”
Kei sighs. His tone eases against his will. “I mean, you helped me so what do you want in return?”
Now it’s the man’s turn to scrunch his face, albeit miniscule compared to how Kei does it. He tips his head in different directions like he’s looking for something.
Kei thinks it’s kind of... cute. Maybe.
Not that anyone who hears him say that aloud will live to tell the tale.
“Nothing. There is no reason for me to want one. I did it because I wanted to.” But the lines on his brows are still curved and his olive eyes are still focused. “Do you want me to want something in return?”
He doesn’t.
Yeah, so why does he keep pressing on the matter when Ushijima is clearly just an airhead who does and says whatever first comes to mind. Kei zones out, deep in thought. He starts walking again, slowly this time, leaving a befuddled brunette trailing next to him.
Kei lets himself indulge in all of it. The quiet. The warmth. The company. Ushijima doesn’t try to pry an answer from him the rest of the walk.
It’s when he’s two blocks away from his building that he stops and whispers, “Maybe I do.”
He fiddles with a button on Ushijima’s coat that he’s now very conscious of around him. He hears a hum. He doesn’t know if it was from him or not.
“Well.” Kei looks up to find the brunette’s facial features lose a bit of their edge. “I love your coffee.”
Kei’s breath hitches. There’s a slight purse on Ushijima’s his lips.
“I mean, the baristas in your café are all generally great, but your coffee has a really simple and straightforward taste, and I really like that.”
God, this guy really just says whatever he wants to, doesn’t he? Kei swears that this time, his nose is red exclusively due to the cold, thank you very much.
“If you can teach me how to make espresso macchiato like you do, I’ll be grateful.”
It seems simple enough. “Where?”
“What do you mean where?”
Or not.
“Well, to make coffee you need a grinder and a coffee maker.” One look at Ushijima’s subtle surprise tells him everything he needs to know. “You can’t possibly think I’ll teach you while I’m working.”
“I don’t have a coffee grinder.”
“I don’t either? Good ones are very expensive.”
“There are bad ones?”
Maybe Kei should take it back; he doesn’t want anything to do with this guy. He thought the man is somewhat of a coffee enthusiast but now Kei is convinced he’s just a moron. “Yes, there are bad ones.”
Ushijima then stares at him. And stares.
“Would it be a burden to you if... I ask you to buy with me?”
Kei thinks it isn’t that big of a deal. It should be easy to say yes or no. But the way Ushijima asks it is as if, it’s something that’s more important than it should be.
Like a date, his brain unhelpfully supplies. Nope. No. It’s not.
And yet. “Tell me I can’t refuse.”
Thick eyebrows furrow. “No, you c–”
“Just say it.”
The brunette has a barely visible internal conflict, cocking his face in different angles that Kei finds not-adorable.
“Buy a coffee grinder with me,” he heaves a deep breath, “You can’t refuse.”
Ushijima really is an idiot. And despite himself, Kei smiles. He hopes it’s small enough that the dark of the night can hide it.
“If you insist.”