Work Text:
“So you want me, me, to work at your coffee shop?”
“Just for a few weeks.” Clovicus shrugs. “I’m a little understaffed at the moment, and I know you’re free for the next few months until your next flight out.”
Evariste crosses his arms, unimpressed. “You just want free labor.”
A short laugh. Then, “Come on, kid. Don’t tell me it’s too much of a challenge for you?”
“Please. How hard can serving a few cups of coffee be?”
***
In hindsight, perhaps, hard wasn’t the word Evar should have used. Interesting would be more accurate. And certainly entertaining.
He gets along with his coworkers well enough. Luckily, he doesn’t start until noon most days, so the morning rush is absolutely not his problem. (Although, he does pity the poor undergrads who have to deal with the sleep-deprived, irritable customers first thing in the morning. That passive-aggressive lady in the pink dress does not look easy to deal with.)
Afternoon is when most of the regulars start tricking in, and it doesn’t take long for Evar to memorize their favorite orders (he’s always been good at remembering faces and places).
Then, naturally, he starts having fun .
***
Like clockwork, the melodramatic brat comes in at 2:15 on the dot.
“Seriously? I know you know my name. You’ve called me by it before.” Any other worker might have been slightly alarmed at the young man leaning aggressively over the counter, the spikes on his leather jacket practically quivering with indignation. Evar just ignores him and continues scribbling on the cup.
“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”
Scribble, scribble.
“Now you’re stalling. My name is only four letters, Evariste, there’s no way it takes that long to write.”
Evar wordlessly passes the cup for his coworker to finish. Dylan is trying and failing rather miserably to hide her snickering under her breath as she fills up the order and rings it up.
“Uh...Amenhotep?”
Acri heaves a deep sigh, then stomps to the pickup station, glowering as he grabs it fr. “That’s mine.”
(The scowl on his face as he storms out of the cafe is dark enough to block out the sun, but Evar knows he saw that brat’s mouth quirk upwards for a second, however briefly.)
***
Emerys is both his best friend and a special kind of headache.
“I’ll have a medium skinny double fudge java chip frappe with 2% milk, less ice, 60% sugar, 2 expresso shots, two pumps caramel syrup, and extra whipped cream topped with strawberry and chocolate sprinkles. Oh, and make sure the chips are mint chocolate chips, please. Yes, the ones allllll the way in the back of the storage room.”
Evar is very much regretting the day he ever told Emerys he was back in the country. “Why.”
“Don’t argue with me, peasant. The customer is always right.”
“I really hate you.”
“Chop chop, messenger boy.”
(He gets his vengeance when Emerys takes one gulp of that monstrosity and promptly spits it out. Perhaps Evar should have told him that the chocolate chips had long expired.)
***
Four in the afternoon is his favorite time. It’s too early for the nocturnal partygoers to poke their heads in, but also late enough that the lunch rush crowd (which consists of far more girls than he would expect) has packed up and left.
Well, most of them. But he doesn’t really mind that the dark-haired one with the pensive silver eyes usually stays behind, tap-tap-tapping away at her laptop.
(He really should ask Mystery Girl for her name one of these days, instead of just giving her free refills.)
***
“You do realize this can classify as stalking, right?” Briar’s perched on the counter when he comes back from yet another refill run. Must be Firra’s turn to babysit today.
Sure enough, a glance at the cash register reveals Firra ringing up the last order of her shift for an elegantly dressed woman with lovely snowflake earrings, who murmurs a “thank you” before departing with her grey-eyed companion.
“It’s not stalking if I’m just doing my job.” He likes Firra’s adopted little sister. Really, he does. She’s just too clever for her own good.
“…yes it is.” Briar rolls her eyes, sipping her Royal cappuccino. She eyes the direction he came from. “There’s a thing you could try. It’s called Talking to Her.”
“Right. And how’s it going with Isaia?”
“Ugh. My sister talks too much.”
“Actually, I heard it from Donaigh.”
“Let me rephrase. My siblings talk too much.”
***
In the end, it’s a little ridiculous that Emerys learns her name before he does. Apparently, he’s dating her roommate.
Small world.
“And then Quinn calls me a mouse. A mouse , of all things! She-“
“So when do I get to meet this amazing woman?” He says, smiling as he hands an espresso to a girl wearing a Black Swans hoodie while Emerys loiters on the side. He’s long mastered the ability to multi-task during one of his long-winded rants.
Emerys snorts. “You probably already have; her friend is a regular here. Although how Angelique can study in a place like this is beyond me.”
“...Angelique?”
Raised eyebrows. “Oho, a regular you don’t recognize? You’re losing your touch.”
“You realize I don’t work here 24/7, right?” Although now he’s putting two-and-two together and realizing there’s only so many people this Angelique could be.
“Sure feels like it,” Emerys grumbles, and Evar feels a stab of guilt.
Perhaps a day off wouldn’t be too much to ask of Clovicus.
***
Turns out it is, cause now he’s been stuck on a weekend morning shift, thanks Boss .
“Could be worse,” says his coworker, Landon, who had apparently requested an early shift. “At least there are no crazy coffee-demanding faerie queens riding in with demon horses in the morning.”
Which is surprisingly not the oddest thing Evar has ever heard.