Work Text:
One (not so) Black Coffee
Working in a café wasn’t terrible, at least that was what Jaskier repeated to himself every morning when he clocked in and began his morning shift, and he repeated it for the hundredth time when a rude customer cursed at him when he got the order wrong. The thing was, Jaskier NEVER got an order wrong. People were just assholes and wanted to complain. If he did get an order wrong, then it was his mysterious way of flirting. He’d get the order wrong. The customer would correct him. Jaskier would smile a sugary smile, apologize, and ask them out to make it up to him.
Jaskier leaned behind the counter, looking boredly over the few guests they had using their wifi and looking oh so hipster with their venti iced mocha frappuccino with two pumps of espresso one pump of hazelnut. He hated it. There was no originality. “Jask! Smile babe! Smiles get tips!” Jaskier looked over at his co-worker, Priscilla He rolled his eyes. “What’s the matter, love? Where’s my chipper Jaskier?”
“Just tired,” He sighed. “Actually, I’m feeling rather unsatisfied.”
“What? Bad date?” She snorted. Jaskier groaned and rubbed his temples as he nodded. “Well let’s hear it then.”
“Dinner was fine,” Jaskier started. “Conversation flowed nicely. Interests were there. Then he took me home-”
“Sex on the first date?!” Priscilla mocked him with a sudden gasp which caused Jaskier to make a lazy attempt at pushing at her. “We begin fooling around, it’s pretty good, but when we were done. It just,” Jaskier sighed and frowned. “He was too gentle. I bet that was it, because there was no heat, and Priscilla I need heat.”
“Dear,” She sighed. “I think you’re done. Partying. Sleeping around. I think you’re wanting more.” Jaskier chewed on his lip, absorbed the words she said, and then he cracked a smile.
“Yeah right!” He waved a hand. “We both know I’m not the tied down type.”
Priscilla was going to refute what he said, but the doorbell sounded causing them both to turn toward the new customer. Jaskier’s mouth fell open, he swore he drooled, because this man was possibly the most gorgeous man Jaskier had ever seen. Tall, white hair pulled back into a half updo, and a jawline that could cut diamonds. His shoulders were broad, muscles stretching the gray t-shirt he was in, and he couldn’t even look at the jeans he was wearing because Jaskier was sure it would kill him. “Jesus Christ,” Priscilla murmured. Jaskier leaned against the counter, giving the man his award-winning smile.
“What can I get you, handsome?” Jaskier asked. The man looked up at the menu, squinting, and Jaskier felt as if he were being transfixed by his hazel eyes that looked almost to be golden. They were like honey on a hot day, oozing fresh from a honeycomb, and Jaskier felt a blush creep up his neck as soon as those golden eyes were on him. “Black coffee.”
Jaskier smirked. “Size?”
Geralt hummed. He glanced up at the sizes, furrowed his eyebrows. “Uh.”
“Don’t stress, love, first time I assume? No worries, let me explain and don’t worry I’ll go nice and slow to ease the pain.” Jaskier’s voice oozed with seduction, but the man looked unphased. “So the smallest you can get is a short,” Jaskier said as he produced a small cup. “Medium would be a Tall.” He produced another cup. “Grande would be like a large.” Geralt hummed. “Then there’s a venti.”
“Uh Tall,” Geralt nodded. Jaskier smiled and pitched the other cups.
“Name?”
“Geralt.”
“It’ll be ready in a few minutes, Geralt.” Jaskier wrote down Geralt’s name as well as his order. Black coffee with four sugars and extra coffee mate mocha creamer. Geralt stood a little ways away as Jaskier turned around and began to make the coffee.
“Jask! He asked for black coffee. Not Black coffee with four sugars and coffee mate mocha creamer.”
Jaskier turned to his coworker with a mischievous smile. “Exactly.” She rolled her eyes and went to take care of another guest. Jaskier worked diligently making the coffee, and then went to the pick up and called for Geralt. “Gerald?”
Geralt looked around a moment, as if checking that it was actually him the young barista was calling despite the hard ‘d’ sound at the end of his name. The barista was staring at him, so he carefully approached and took the coffee with a gentle smile. He wanted to correct him, wanted to tell him his name is Geralt, but this kid just looked so innocent and he couldn’t bring himself to correct him. The barista had a certain glint in his eyes, a knowing smile, and he was practically buzzing in his spot like he was begging for Geralt to notice him. Notice what he was doing. Geralt was a damn near expert on body language, it was his job to be good at reading people, and the young man was either purposely being obvious or being absolutely clueless about body language.
It came over Geralt like a tidal wave of realization. He glanced at the barista’s name tag and then meant his eyes again. “Thanks,” He nodded curtly. “J e skier.”
Jaskier nearly choked on his own spit. Geralt nodded and took a sip of his drink, and Jaskier watched as his face contorted, and he waited for Geralt to correct his drink. He never did. Instead. He nodded curtly and left the café. It left Jaskier dumbfounded and Pricilla cackling.
^
Geralt chalked up the wrong order from the previous day to an accident. So, once he was on his way back to work from his break he stopped in again. The little Café was less than two minutes from his place of work, and he was in a desperate need for a pick me up. The bell jingled as he walked in, the smell of the different brews floated toward Geralt, and the sweet aroma of the fresh baked goods made his already full stomach gurgle in want. “Be with ya in a second!” Geralt heard Jaskier say. He was moving impossibly fast serving customers left and right. Then with a sigh his blue eyes oh so earnest were looking into his. “Gerald!”
It shouldn’t have made Geralt’s heart beat harder that Jaskier was happy to see him. He was happy to see Geralt. “What would you like today?” Jaskier asked as he pulled out a small notepad.
“Black coffee. Just a black coffee.”
Jaskier nodded and jotted it down and Geralt even watched him write it down. With a strike of boldness Geralt cleared his throat and said, “It’s Geralt.”
Jaskier only smiled. “I’ll call you up when it’s done..”
Geralt always felt awkward while waiting for his coffee. People sat at tiny tables in a mess of papers and chargers. Laptops opened to multiple tabs, and some people were talking far too loudly on the phone. “One black coffee for White Wolf?”
It was impossible! Geralt was nothing like White Wolf. Where on earth did he get a silly name like that?! Geralt shyly walked up to the counter, glaring at the floor, and he could feel his cheeks heating under the few people who looked at him. “Here you are, sir!” Jaskier grinned. Geralt glared at him only slightly. To his own surprise the heat in it left as soon as his honey eyes met Jaskier’s ocean blue eyes. “A black coffee. For the very White Wolf.”
Geralt took it wordlessly. Took a sip. Scrunched his face up as the sweetness hit his tongue along with the taste of the heavier creamer. He wanted to demand a new drink, wanted to tell Jaskier his name was just Geralt. Not Gerald. Not White Wolf. Just Geralt. Instead he mustered up a crooked smile and nodded toward the young barista. He walked back to his workplace, warm coffee spreading warmth throughout his entire body starting with his fingertips, and he did try to finish it. It was just too sweet.
Tomorrow he’d go to a different café.
^
It had been a slow morning. He had a max of three orders he had to make, and to top it off he was working with his frienmy (friend and enemy) Valdo was nice enough. A little cocky. A little bit of a bitch. It’s alright. By “alright” it wasn’t alright. Valdo always had to critique Jaskier’s every move, and today Valdo was being a particular bastard.
“Julian! We are supposed to be working.”
Jaskier hummed and looked up at a very peeved looking Valdo Marx. He didn’t dare break his eye contact as he flipped the page in the magazine he was reading. “Julian!”
“It’s Jaskier.”
“It’s Julian.”
“Oh are you choosing my name now? Afraid I prefer Jaskier.” Jaskier glanced up from his magazine to look at his coworker. “Do me a favor, Val. Take a good look around, and I mean it, a really good look around. Do you see what we’re missing?”
“Just because we don’t have guests doesn’t mean there’s no work to be done, Julian.”
“I’ve done everything while you were handling books. Swept the floor, refreshed the coffee, stocked storage, and even took inventory. Everything is done. You do if you don’t believe me.”
Valdo was about to reply when the door’s bell signaled and Jaskier perked up as he caught the sight of white hair and hazel- yellowish eyes. “Oh no, Julian, you sit wouldn’t want you pulling a muscle.” Valdo said as he moved toward the front of the counter.
Jaskier was on his feet, magazine tossed carelessly to the side, and a strained smile tugging at his lips. “Black coffee?” He called over Valdo’s shoulder. “No worries, mate! I’ve got ya.”
“I’ll make it, Julian. Wouldn’t want you poisoning the man,” Valdo laughed and glanced at Geralt with a look that quite possibly made Jaskier consider ripping the prick’s balls off and feeding them to the cocky bastard.
“That’s quite alright, Valdo dear. How will I ever be as good as you if I never get to practice?” Jaskier’s voice dripped with sarcasm and even more to his satisfaction he heard Geralt snort. Seemed he won this round.
Jaskier began making Geralt’s “black” coffee. He snuck in a few more extra sugars and just for the hell of it some mint. He messily wrote Geralt’s name on it and out on the counter. “For my brilliant White Wolf,” Jaskier beamed. He watched as Geralt shyly took the cup, sipping it tentatively and nodded, and Jaskier wanted to laugh because how far could he fuck up his drink before he gets confronted? Either Geralt was easily the least confrontational persona alive, or he caught on to Jaskier’s game and is playing it well. Either way the rest of the day was a breeze and to make it just a bit sweeter Valdo was bitter for the rest of the day too and all because he didn’t get to flirt and serve the handsome man that walked in on their slow day.
^
Geralt really shouldn’t go back. Jaskier messed up his drink every single time, and he should be pissed. It felt like something tugged at his stomach, yanking him forward to the small café, and the pain and longing refused to stop until he could smell the different brews and sweets mixing. Didn’t stop until he heard a melodic voice greet him.
He opened the door, and stepped into the warmth of the café. It quickly took a hold of his old bones, drying his clothes from the rain, and warming him up with a quick shiver. Nobody was directly at the counter and the bell didn’t ring, it must be broken. “I thank whatever arrogant god is out there,” Jaskier was saying. “That you are back, Priscilla. If I had to work one more shift with Valdo I would have either killed him or myself.”
The woman snorted and stared at Jaskier fondly. Light smile over her pink lips, her cheeks a comfortable pink, and a look that practically screamed love. Suddenly, Geralt felt silly. He shouldn’t have assumed. Of course Jaskier was nice to him- he was a paying customer. “He’s probably the only person on this fucking plain I would not fuck or be fucked by. What a fucking prick! I swear on the Queen’s life he’d critique my fucking skills.” Jaskier groaned far too dramatically. “And I’ve never left a partner unsatisfied! You should kn-”
Geralt carefully cleared his throat. Jaskier turned around with a start, cheeks immediately darkening, and lips parted in a near perfect “o”. He smoothed out his apron and gave Geralt the dazzling smile. “Black coffee as usual?”
“Please,” Geralt hummed.
Jaskier nodded and turned to make the coffee. Geralt watched him, but this time he didn’t grab a solid cardboard cup. He grabbed a clear cup, scooped up ice, and began making a milkshake looking drink. Geralt should be mad. Correct him. But Jaskier was humming and glancing up toward Geralt to give him an easy smile. It was nice to have someone smile at him as if he made the stars and moon. Jaskier presented a drink, frothy, whipped cream, and chocolate drizzle on top. It was so obviously clear the wrong drink, and yet Geralt still took it. Smiled despite the sweetness, and nodded at Jaskier in approval.
It was far too sweet. Geralt knew he wouldn’t finish it, but he still tipped Jaskier and left the café as the magnet in his stomach ached to go back.
^
It went on for weeks. Geralt came into the coffee shop. He would order a black coffee. Jaskier made the exact opposite of a black coffee. It was another slow day in the shop when Geralt finally entered. Jaskier was on his phone scrolling through. “Jaskier,” Geralt grinned. Jaskier smirked and tucked his phone away and leaned against the counter with his hands flat on the top. “I would like a venti caramel macchiato with two pumps of hazelnut and regular almond milk and extra whipped cream.”
Jaskier bit back a laugh and he nodded. Geralt paid making sure to leave a generous tip and went to wait for his drink. As usual he watched Jaskier whip up the drink. He grabbed a small cup, cardboard, and poured black coffee into the cup. He then took a black marker and smirked as he scribbled something on it. “Geralt! Your black coffee,” Jaskier smiled. Geralt took it with an almost sheepish smile. Before he took a sip he noticed that under his name was a number. Under the number written in all caps and underlined three times a simple “Call Me.” Geralt smiled and nodded toward Jaskier with a full plan to call him as soon as he got off work. Before he could actually leave he heard Jaskier call his name.
“Geralt!” He turned around to meet that fucking smirk. “My shift ends at five.”
“I’ll call you at six then.”