Chapter Text
Nicky sighs as he washes his hands, letting the soothing music wash over him. His coffee shop, or mostly his anyway, was opening in five minutes. Nicky could see a couple of exhausted-looking patrons already lining up outside the door, waiting for their caffeine fix. Most of his customers were regulars, as was the case with being a small, local shop in the middle of a bustling city. They came, found they liked his drinks, and never went anywhere else. Mostly, the trouble was getting them to come, though.
Nicky made his way to the door and flipped the sign to OPEN, unlocking the doors as his patrons came inside, shivering from the cold. Another couple hours passed by in a blur of orders, wiping tables, and the gentle jingle of the bell above the door. A regular came in, a college kid, tucking her laptop into her messenger bag. She strolled up to the counter and Nicky took her order, feeling his skin prickle under her watchful gaze. It was no secret that this customer had taken a liking to Nicky, as Andy never failed to remind him, but Nicky didn’t have the heart to tell the girl he wasn’t interested. There was nothing wrong with her, of course, except for the fact that she was lacking a certain appendage needed for Nicky to be attracted to her.
Just then, Andy emerged from the back of the shop, having just finished her break. Nicky turned to tell her what the college kid had just ordered when he heard the jingle that meant that the door was opening. Nicky turned to greet the customer and there was the singular most beautiful man he had seen in his entire life.
The beautiful man walked in, a full head of curls and a soft beard that Nicky would love to twist his fingers into. He was wearing a cream-colored sweater that looked like it was made out of the clouds themselves, black pants, and a crossbody bag was hanging across his broad frame. The new definition of tall, dark, and handsome walked up to the counter, right in front of Nicky.
Nicky just looked at the man, admiring his strong eyebrows and full lips. Lips that were moving. Oh shoot, he was saying something. The man looked at him expectantly, waiting for an answer. Nicky’s brain short-circuited as those lips curled into a smile.
“I’m so sorry,” Nicky finally managed to say. “What was that?”
The man responded, “I was trying to order a coffee. I’m assuming you have that here, right? This is a coffee shop?”
Nicky was about to utter another apology when he caught the gleam in the other man’s eye. He was joking, thank goodness. “We can definitely do a coffee,” Nicky said. “What size?”
It was a minor miracle that Nicky was able to focus for long enough to take his order at all. All Nicky could focus on were the crinkles of the other man, the corners of his mouth, the brief feeling of heat when Nicky’s fingers brushed his to take his card. “Name?” Nicky asked.
“You tell me yours first,” the other man said with a wink.
“It’s, uh, Nicky.” Was that him blushing? Hopefully not. “What about you?”
“Joseph, but my friends call me Joe.” Joseph, no, Joe, shouldered his bag. “We are going to be friends, aren’t we?”
“Definitely.” Nicky stuck out his hand for a handshake, hoping Joe wouldn’t notice the slight trembling in his hand. When their palms touched, there was a flash of heat Nicky felt at the contact. Joe had a tight grip, and the clasp of his fingers was more exciting than the entirety of Nicky’s last relationship had been.
It got busy then, a rush of exhausted students and businessmen in crisp suits and women with perfectly-lined red lips. When Nicky had a second to breathe, he looked up and Joe was sitting at a table, coffee in hand. Andy, or someone else, must have given it to him. But still, Nicky had a fleeting, silly desire, a wish that he could have been the one to deliver that coffee. Even if it would have been nothing but another opportunity to see that smile.
As it was, though, Joe was sitting at the table, sipping his coffee occasionally. He had a pen out, and was writing something in a large notebook. Joe tapped the pen against his mouth, against those full lips, then resumed its movement on the paper. Nicky could tell now that Joe was drawing, or sketching something. The strokes were too erratic and circular to be writing anything, but the concentration written all over Joe’s face made it clear that he was very invested in doing whatever he was doing right.
Nicky watched mournfully as he got up, packed up his things, and left the shop, all in a matter of minutes. Nicky didn’t even get a chance to see what he was working on all that time. But when Nicky was lying in bed that night, all he could think about was full lips, crinkled eyes, and the flash of heat when they touched.