Work Text:
The first time he walks into the café; the bell above the glass door tinkling and the amiable chatter quickly falling into silence, Haru isn’t quite sure how to feel. His eyes take in the figure sauntering closer. From those shiny black shoes up to the dark aviators framing the handsomely sculpted face, Haru can only hear three words ringing inside his head.
Filthy rich bastard.
Now Haru doesn’t have a problem with the rich— if they make money through legal sources, good for them. Except that most rich people make money by sucking the life out of the actual deserving hardworkers.
And that really ticks Haru off.
Like this guy for example. Walking into the café like the jerk owns the place. That cool guy façade as he pauses, dramatically drooping those damn aviators down his pretty face just to look at Haru with those dark blue eyes.
Someone sighs dreamily in the background, and Haru grits his teeth. “Welcome, sir.”
He doesn’t bother with the customer service smile.
“May I take your order?” Haru deadpans, cladded in the cafe’s ugly green apron and cap.
The strangers hums, gaze sweeping over the menu hanging over the top before settling back on the frowning barista. “A grande hazelnut latte.”
Haru scrunches his nose, grabbing onto a cup where he writes the order down with a black sharpie. “Name for the order please.”
“Kambe Daisuke.”
Tongue poking out from the corner of his mouth, Haru scribbles down the name in capital fonts. He turns sideways to call on his partner, only to stop and frown when he catches sight of Kamei openly flirting with a rather mature looking lady— Sacchan, was it? — at the counter’s corner.
Half tempted to march over and smack Kamei upside down the head, Haru settles in for a sigh. He grouses under his breath, busying himself in making the order himself.
Now Haru could’ve been petty and even messed with the drink on purpose— because honestly, the vibes this Kambe guy is giving him aren’t really good— but Haru has always deemed himself as a very responsible and fair person. So he makes sure to make the drink right. Just as his superior Teppei had shown him.
There isn’t a customer line he should be worried about, or even the rush hour so Haru takes his time in making the order. On filling the cup, he gets a glimpse of Kambe lazily eying the empty tip jar atop the counter.
Haru rolls his eyes, and places the drink before the man. “That’ll be two hundred yen.”
Kambe glances at the drink, already taking money out from his pocket. “Keep the change.”
Haru raises a brow, perplexed when a wad of cash comes to rest down on the counter. He stares at the sum of money, stupefied because no way that’s two hundred, it looks like freaking twenty thousand— when Kambe decides to slip in another handsome amount of cash into the tiny confines of the tip jar.
Kambe nods his head in satisfaction, takes his order and shifts to leave.
A second ticks by, the bell’s chime ringing in the air to announce the man’s departure when reality slaps Haru across the face, and he sputters, face flushing a dark shade of red as he slams his hands on the counter.
“Oi, bastard!”
The overflowing tip jar gets knocked to the floor, shattering into a tiny million pieces as Haru hoists himself over the counter, face burning in sheer anger. “Come back here!”
Haru completely ignores the surprised eyes turning his way, throwing the glass door open. His eyes narrow when he spots Kambe opening the door of his car, holding onto his drink nonchalantly as he speaks to the air.
Damn bastard.
“I’m talking to you!” Haru roars, marching ahead.
Kambe shifts on his feet, brows raised in question when Haru halts infront of him, eyes ablaze while he spits furiously. “Who the hell do you think you are?!”
Dark blue eyes blink slowly before Kambe quirks a brow. “I assume you require more?”
Haru narrows his eyes. “What?”
“The tip wasn’t sufficient, now was it?” Kambe’s eyes sweep over Haru’s ugly apron, a look of utter boredom on his face. “So tell me, how much?”
“What the hell—“
“How much for you to leave?”
His words finally finding meaning, Haru’s face scalds crimson in sheer fury. The drink in Kambe’s hands spills onto concrete when Haru slams him against the sleek car, fingers digging into the heavenly black fabric as Haru hisses.
“People like you make me sick!” Haru glowers, glaring down into those pools of surprised dark blues. “You think you’re so fuckin’ cool with all you’re money, huh? Throwing it around like it’s nothing!”
The corners of his lips pulling back into snarl, Haru sneers. “I won’t let people like you look down on me!”
With that Haru releases the man, stepping back and pulling out the previous wads of cash out from the pocket of his work apron. He smacks the cash against Kambe’s chest, sneering.
“Here’s your tip back, rich boy!”
Hands clenched into fists, Haru whirls around. He briskly walks back to the cafe, muttering curses all the while leaving behind a mess of yen notes and spilled latte.
.
.
.
.
.
Daisuke blinks once, then twice as he stands against his car, clothes disheveled and cash floating in the puddle of hazelnut latte. Blue eyes twinkle mischievously before Daisuke fixes the silk tie around his neck, gaze never leaving the café when he slides the aviators back on his nose.
“HEUSC,”
The mechanical voice of his butler answers immediately. “Sir?”
“Buy this café right now.”
Multiple green digits pop up before his eyes when HEUSC informs in his ear. “Café has been bought. Transaction complete. Balance: unlimited.”
Daisuke hums in acknowledgment, sliding into his car. “Now give me a list of all the workers there.”
“Yes, sir.”
A number of profiles flicker up infront of his eyes. Daisuke skims through the images searchingly, halting upon finally reaching a familiar head of tousled sandy locks and exhausted golden eyes. He drums his gloved fingers along the steering while, a slow smirk curling the corners of his lips.
Katou Haru.
“This will be a promising investment.”