Chapter Text
“Riddle me this,” Edward said, leaning casually against the counter. “What does one have to do to get a decent drink around here?”
The teen barista stared at him, unimpressed. “Getting in line to order would be the traditional first step,” he said. “This would be the pick-up station.”
Edward’s mouth stretched into a fake grin. “I’m aware,” he said. “I was just in that line fifteen minutes ago.”
“Oh, good!” the barista said, clapping his hands together. “You won’t need directions, then.”
“Look—” Edward started, narrowing his eyes and glancing down to the barista’s name tag, “—Jason. I came to the pick-up station because it’s where the imbecile who ruined my coffee order was standing.”
Jason rolled his eyes. “Well,” he said as he started to turn around, “if I run into any imbeciles, I’ll let them know that a man dressed as a leprechaun wants to talk to them.”
Edward’s eye twitched. “Very funny,” he snapped. “I wonder if your manager would find that humorous?”
“Probably not,” Jason said, facing the machine behind the counter as he started on his next coffee order. “I’ve heard him laugh, like, twice. And I’ve been working here for three years.”
There was a pause.
“I’m saying that I want to speak to your manager,” Edward clarified.
“I know,” Jason said. “Bruce!”
“Yes?”
Edward barely managed not to jump at the sudden sound from right behind his shoulder. He turned, slowly.
The man standing behind him was tall. Very tall. Too tall to reasonably be able to sneak up on people like that. Edward recognized him immediately: it was the pale man who Edward frequently observed stalking around the edges of Batch Brew, like some kind of coffee-obsessed ghost. A tall, conventionally attractive, coffee-obsessed ghost.
“He wants to speak to my manager,” Jason said, not looking up from his work.
Bruce’s brow wrinkled, almost imperceptibly. “Barbara is your manager.”
“Babs is doing inventory in the back,” Jason said. “An owner is the same as a manager, isn’t it?”
“Not remotely,” Bruce said. “Can I help you, Mr. Nygma?”
Edward decided not to ask why Bruce knew his name. He had a feeling that the man wouldn’t tell him, and then he would have admitted confusion for nothing. “You can,” he said instead. “There’s a problem with my drink order.”
“The problem is his drink order,” Jason said, finally looking up from the coffee machine. “Bruce, you should have heard it, it’s—”
“8.05 ounces of caffeinated cold brew, 3.45 ounces of de caffeinated cold brew, 2.5 ounces of espresso, and 2 ounces of Green Mint Guittard flavoring,” Edward said, interrupting him.
Jason raised his hands in the air, gesturing somewhat hysterically in Edward’s direction. Edward gestured right back at him, petulantly. “Well?” he asked, turning to Bruce.
Bruce was staring at him. “That’s not your usual order.”
Edward couldn’t tell if the owner was trying to creep him out on purpose, or if this was genuinely Bruce’s misguided approach to conflict resolution.
“I...” Edward said, brow furrowing as he attempted to compose a response. “I, ah. No?”
Bruce continued to stare at him.
“...I’ve been experimenting at home,” Edward continued, unsure of what the man wanted from him. “That’s the exact amount of caffeine I require to make it through my entire work day at maximum efficiency.”
Bruce nodded, once, then tilted his head. “If you have the requirements to make it at home,” he asked slowly, “why are you ordering it here?”
This was definitely not how conversations between customers and store owners were supposed to go. “Because I... like the coffee here,” Edward said, not pleased that he had been put on the defensive. “And it’s on the way to my work, and the atmosphere is acceptable, and like every other consumer, I occasionally prefer to pay other people to perform services I could technically do myself!”
“Order for Renee,” Jason said, placing a to-go cup on the counter. A woman came up to grab it, giving Edward a very weird look as she walked away.
Edward crossed his arms, somewhat self-consciously. “...Anyway,” he said. “I’m already seventeen minutes off of my routine, I don’t have time for Jason here to make yet another drink that inevitably tastes like botched measurements.”
Jason scoffed, taking another order off the board. “Like I would—”
“Which is why I will be observing him every step of the process, to ensure he doesn’t make any more obvious mistakes,” Edward finished.
“Oh, absolutely not,” Jason said, disgusted. “Bruce!”
“I’m afraid this is a busy time of the day for us,” Bruce said. “But we would be happy to reimburse you for your drink order, given the... situation.”
“I don’t want a reimbursement,” Edward said, teeth gritted. “I want the coffee that I ordered.”
“And I want to kill my chemistry teacher,” Jason said. “But we don’t always get what we want.”
Bruce’s eyes flickered over to Jason at the mention of murdering teachers, but when he spoke it was addressed to Edward. “If you don’t want a reimbursement, then Jason can make your usual drink—”
Edward huffed. “If I wanted my usual drink, I would have—”
“—and I will personally prepare your order to your specifications on Thursday,” Bruce finished. “With an additional charge for the inconvenience.”
Now Edward was the one staring. “You... Thursday?”
“You don’t come in on Wednesdays,” Bruce said. “If you’re available fifteen minutes before your usual arrival, then the shop should be near empty. There would be plenty of time to ensure that my measurements are correct.”
His tone suggested that he did not think there would be a problem with his measurements. Edward wasn’t entirely sure what was happening. However...
“I’m available,” Edward replied automatically, then processed what he’d said. He successfully repressed a wince. “...At that time.”
“Then it’s a date,” Bruce said, turning to Jason. “Large mocha mint, one and a half shots of espresso. Is there anything else, Mr. Nygma?”
“Um,” Edward said. “He called me a leprechaun?”
Bruce gave Jason a look. His expression was almost completely neutral, but still managed to emanate disappointment.
“He called me an imbecile!” Jason protested.
“Ah,” Bruce said, looking away. “You’re even, then. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go check on Stephanie.”
“Ugh,” Jason said. “Bruce, you have got to start trusting Stephanie.”
“I do trust Stephanie,” Bruce said. “I’m just also going to go check on her.”
“One fire, one time!” Jason called after Bruce as the man walked away. He turned back to the blender. “Just completely incapable of forgiveness. That’s his problem.”
After a moment, he slammed down a to-go cup on the counter. “Large mocha mint, one and a half shots of espresso, Edward Nygma,” he said. “Are we done here?”
Edward took the drink. “That depends. Did you—”
“Excellent, thank you,” Jason said, returning to his work on the previous order.
“I was—”
“OUT.”