Work Text:
Dan is on automatic. Grind the coffee, pack the grounds, pull the shot, steam the milk. He’s worked in this shop for two years and he’s perfectly content to continue. He works in the evening so he can sleep late, there are no new skills to learn at this point, and his general lack of enthusiasm just adds to the ambience.
“Smile Dan.” Bryony is his manager but that fact usually slips his mind. He knows she has some big responsibilities that he is unaware of. Better her than him.
“What for?” He does smile though, a genuine one, fleeting as it is. Working with Bryony is easy. She expects him to do his job and she doesn’t micro manage. On slow nights they go on Tinder and trade phones, swiping for each other with no intention of following through.
Tonight is a busy one. Dan and Bryony move around one another in a dance that has become second nature. For the first time all night, Dan finds himself empty handed and he takes a breath.
“Okay, I’m caught up, what do you need?”
Bryony smiles and only later, in hindsight, will Dan realize how sinister that smile was. She sets a coffee drink on the counter. It’s piled high with whipped cream, caramel drizzle, and toffee chips. She tells him it’s for table two and he picks it up, swiveling his hips to avoid a collision as Bryony moves on to the next customer’s drink. He sets off, eyes downcast on the precarious mountain of sweet in his hands. He knows the configuration of tables so well, he could make it to table two without even looking up. He does look up though, to be sure the path is clear, and when he does he sees just who it is sitting at table two.
“Nope,” he says under his breath as his spins on his heel and heads right back to the counter. He tries his best to yell in a whisper when Bryony looks up at him. “Bad friend!”
“I’m helping you out Dan, you have to go now, he saw you.”
“He did not.”
“He did,” she says, “he’s looking now, and he’s smiling.” She keeps working, wiping things and making drinks, clearing things away.
“Fuck. Bry, how could you?”
“Dan, you really better go. If you hide in the back, he’s gonna think you shit your pants or something.” She is way too amused with herself.
He’s gonna look like a fucking nutter, turning back and then back again. Reaching past Bryony, he grabs a jar of rainbow sprinkles and shakes them on. He mouths bad friend at her smug face and turns back. He fakes the best, I don’t even care, this is no big deal, saunter he can manage.
“Sorry about that.” He says as he sets the cup down in front of him. “I forgot your sprinkles.”
“Oh! Didn’t know I got sprinkles.”
He’s so cute. Why is he so excited over sprinkles? Why is he so fucking cute?
Dan isn’t sure why he’s still standing here. Most customers get little more than a grunt from Dan, but this isn’t most customers. This is Phil. He knows because sometimes Phil takes his order to go and Dan gets to write his name on a paper cup in grease pencil. He’s taken his order twelve and a half times. The half was a particularly mortifying day when Dan was nervously asking Phil what he’d like and choked a little on nerves and his own spit. He had to back away, sputtering, and let Bryony step in.
It happens in slow motion, wind blowing through Phil’s shining black quiff, lips parting as he lifts the cup to his perfect pink mouth. Okay, there’s no wind, but there might as well be for how gorgeous he looks as he tips his head back just slightly to take a sip. Dan should stop staring and he would, he would tear his eyes away if he could just get a minute. But then it happens, Phil moans. He moans, low and hot in his throat and holy shit, Dan may combust right here. Goodbye cruel world, it’s been real. It feels like the perfect poetic end to his life until Phil looks right at him and he thinks maybe he’ll stick around after all.
“This is incredible, Dan.”
“You know my name?” Dan’s voice squeaks like puberty just hit. Phil just points to his name tag.
Dan walks away without responding. He can’t handle it anymore.
“He watched you walk away,” Bryony whispers when Dan gets safely back behind the counter.
“Fuck off.”
“He’s into you,” she says unscathed, “or he just likes your ass.”
“Fuck. Off.”
“So, you know, either way, it’s a win.”
Dan glares at her, taking off his apron to throw in her general direction before heading to the back for a break.
The first time Phil came in, he ordered a venti caramel macchiato with extra whip and extra caramel. The barista informed him that this is not a Starbucks and a macchiato is not what he thinks it is. Dan felt so bad for him, he interjected and volunteered to make the drink.
That’s not the day Dan started crushing on Phil though. He didn’t even really get a good look at him. Dan tends to keep his head down when he’s working. It wasn’t that day or the next one or even the next. Phil came in a few times a week after that, suddenly a regular. He ordered something different every time. Sometimes, he sat and read till his coffee was gone, other times he’d just look out the window, people watching, and munching on a pastry. Once or twice, he brought a friend and his laughter rang musical through the room, brightening an otherwise mundane day. At least once a week, he sat for hours on his computer, brow furrowed, typing away. Dan watched him pull off his glasses and rub his eyes before he closed his laptop and left. He caught himself hoping that Phil was okay, that he wasn’t working too hard. He wondered why he cared.
Somewhere along the line, Phil had become the highlight of Dan’s week. When a queue formed, Phil would stand and stare at his phone, tapping his foot. He’d bob his head or hum along to whatever music played overhead. Dan started to appreciate the view. Phil looked awkward and uncomfortable and yet totally okay with it. He was kind and friendly to every snotty, pretentious barista he encountered, smiling wide and cracking jokes that landed flat. They were funny to Dan though and he’d smile to himself, listening while he tried to look busy.
When he couldn’t avoid waiting on Phil, he tried his best not to make eye contact. It only took one look to get lost in blue and green and flecks of yellow and that was the final nail in the proverbial coffin. Stolen looks and hidden smiles gave way to goosebumps and a wild fluttering in Dan’s stomach when Phil was in the room. Bryony couldn’t help but notice, teasing relentlessly and doing her level best to encourage Dan to make a move.
And he did move, farther and farther into the back of the shop. He couldn’t risk a conversation that could go south. Phil may be adorably awkward but Dan can be absolutely inept given the chance. He just couldn’t stand to look at Phil right close up. Close up, he could see that ridiculous bone structure and make out just how soft and touchable Phil’s alabaster skin really was. The dam holding back the deluge of Dan’s attraction maintained, but he knew it was a tenuous hold.
Now the waters have broken through and Dan is flooded. But it doesn’t matter. He made it weird and he’s probably never going to see Phil again, Whatever, it never made sense anyway. Phil is just some guy with weird teeth and an alien shaped head. His shoes are never tied right and he eats too much sugar and he wears nerdy t-shirts and he’s walking through the door.
It’s dead tonight so Bryony left early and Dan’s alone. There’s nowhere to hide. He’s trapped here, with his racing pulse and sweaty palms. Phil approaches, walking to a soundtrack of Dan’s playlist playing over the sound system. This is his life now and it’s too goddamn much.
“Hey Dan!” Phil smiles wide and Dan feels his knees sway. He tells himself to keep it together. “Having a good day?”
Say something Dan, say something. “Um, good.” Not that.
Phil isn’t phased by Dan’s stumble. He orders a peppermint mocha and sits at his usual table. Dan takes his time, moving slowly from step to step, hands shaking. This is going to be the best damn mocha Phil has ever had. Dan is meticulous. Grind the coffee, pack the grounds, pull the shot, steam the milk. He finishes the foam with a perfect heart and with a deep breath, walks with feigned confidence to Phil’s table. He sets the mug down and turns to walk away as quickly as he can. He can feel the warmth of Phil’s smile on the back of his neck.
When Phil next comes into the shop, Bryony takes his order.
“I’ll make it!” Dan sounds way too eager and Bryony gives him a look. It’s a simple pumpkin spice latte. He draws a perfect skull and crossbones in the foam. It’s one he’s done before and it’s his favorite.
“You want me to take it?”
“No,” Dan says, “I got it. Thanks Bry.” She squints at Dan but keeps quiet.
Dan sets the coffee in front of Phil but just as he’s about to turn, Phil gasps.
“Woah!”
Dan’s head is still down but he raises his eyes and risks a look at Phil’s awed expression.
“Too out of season?”
“No, I love it!” Phil says and Dan feels satisfaction right down to his toes. He can feel his dimples digging in. When he turns away Bryony is beaming at him and he can’t even be bothered to mind.
They sit on barstools behind the counter and watch Phil for the rest of the evening. It’s probably creepy but now that he’s let himself look, he can’t look away. Phil reads for quite a while and finishes his book, closing it with an expression of contentment on his face. When he stands, he waves an awkward little wave that Dan returns with a smile.
***
The last thing Dan wants is a day off but he gets one. He’s feeling pretty invincible after his groundbreaking two sentence conversation with Phil. If anyone asks him, he’ll deny the three hours he spends practicing latte art in his kitchen. He gets a haircut and does his laundry and straightens up his flat. He feels compelled to be worthy. Of what, he’s not sure.
***
It’s a busy day in the shop and Phil is queued up. Dan is fast on the espresso machine and he’s been making coffee since he arrived. When he sees Phil, he heaves a breath and taps Bryony’s shoulder so they can switch. She winks and nods at Dan, patting his shoulder encouragingly as they trade places.
He clears his throat.
“Hi Phil.”
He did it. He didn’t squeak or faint. He’s still on his feet and he’s looking right at Phil. Eyes, lips, cheekbones, hair, eyes...
“Hi Dan!”
...voice. Dan sighs in spite of himself.
It’s a salted caramel dark chocolate mocha this time. Dan should add whipped cream but he doesn’t. He needs the foam as a medium. He’d mastered it on his day off and now he creates a perfect Pikachu in the foam. Phil stood and chatted to Dan while he made the coffee so he’s still right here. He’s going on about some horror movie Dan doesn’t know and it is endlessly fascinating. He stops mid-sentence when Dan hands him the mug.
He practically squeals, free hand flying to cover his mouth. “Dan!” He sounds so happy, absolutely elated. “Oh my god this is amazing! I can’t believe you did this!”
Dan is grinning ear to ear. He can’t help it. He works this simple job and goes home and minds his business. He’s always thought it was enough. But right now in this moment, he knows there’s something more. He has found his calling. Bringing Phil joy is Dan’s new occupation.
This time when Phil leaves, he stops to say a real goodbye and promises to be back tomorrow.
He does come back, a little later than usual. Dan is bringing a tray full of coffees to a table. Phil smiles in that lovely way Dan is starting to grow addicted to and Dan feels his cheeks flame a bit. There’s no hiding anymore. It’s all or nothing and Dan is all in.
Dan is back behind the counter just in time to see Phil walk out the door but Bryony wears a huge grin.
“Bry,” Dan says, “what the fuck?”
“He asked what you like to drink,” she says, “I’ll finish up here. You should go.” She snickers and walks behind Dan, grabbing the strings of his apron and untying them.
“Seriously?”
“Yes Dan. Go.” She’s actually shooing him. “Go!”
He’s utterly confused but he hands over his apron and grabs his coat from the back. It’s cold outside. Dan stops on the pavement and buttons his coat.
“Hello.” Phil’s got a cup in his hand and he holds it out to Dan.
“Thank you.” Dan takes a sip. Dirty chai, perfect. He notices it’s Phil’s name on the cup, not his own. On closer inspection, he sees a phone number there as well.
“How are you Dan?”
“Terrified.”
Phil laughs and it’s just as sweet as it always is. “Why? I’m not scary.”
“Yes. You really are.”
Phil shakes his head. “Alright, why am I scary?”
“Because I like you,” Dan says, his body betraying him with a nervous mumble.
“Do you?” Phil purses his lips, “I hadn’t noticed.”
“Oh fuck off.” Dan feels hot all over and freezing cold. He’s full of adrenaline but his legs are jelly and he just wants to leap forward and kiss those cheeky smartass lips.
Phil is laughing and his tongue is darting around behind his teeth and it’s so weird and so very lovely. “You off work?”
“I am.”
“Wanna get pizza?” Phil asks offering his hand.
Dan scratches the back of his head, nerves prickling there. He takes Phil’s hand.
“Yes, I really do.”