Work Text:
The first time Sapnap had seen him, he thought it would be a one-time crush. The cutie would come in, order a drink, and head out, never to be seen again.
He didn’t expect him to become a regular.
The boy was delicate, with wavy brown hair and light features. He usually toted a backpack or stack of books, and was dressed cozily against the autumn wind in an oversized sweatshirt or sweater.
Sapnap attempted to keep his checking out of the newcomer subtle as he punched in Wilbur’s order--no cream or sugar, black, make sure it’s black, Sapnap--but then the unnamed boy stepped up to the counter.
He eyed the menu hanging above Sapnap’s head the way newcomers usually did, drinking in espressos and americanos and cappuccinos and finding them all bitter and wanting. As he contemplated, he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and started to worry it with his teeth.
That was borderline pornographic for nine in the morning.
Hitting on him was out of the question. Sapnap wasn’t allowed to hit on customers.
But flirting, soft, joking conversation meant to set someone at their ease (or earn a better tip) was most definitely on the table.
He grinned easily. “No offence, pal, but it looks like it would take about one sip of coffee for you to keel over.”
Almost as soon as he says them, he regrets the words. They are teasing, yes, but harsh for someone he doesn’t know well.
To his surprise, the boy laughs, and responds with ironic heat: “No offence, pal, but it looks like you took a sip of coffee at age 12 and stopped growing then, too.”
Sapnap makes a noise of irritated laughter in his throat, flipping a towel over his shoulder.
“Touche, I give. What can I get started for you?”
The boy shrugs his shoulders in the purple sweater. “I dunno. Wilbur brought me here cause he said,” the boy made air quotes, his fingers just poking out of his sweater paws, “‘Redbull wasn’t artistic enough for a film major’. He seems to think I should be drinking everything that’s dark, black, and hot. Maybe I’ll get a turtleneck with a little wispy mustache and a beret to seal the deal.”
Sapnap laughed again, a plan bubbling into his mind. “Skip the mustache,” he advised, “but I think you’d look hot with a beret.”
The boy across the counter scoffs, a smile tugging at his lips. When his eyes flick back up to the menu, there’s still hesitation in them. “I guess I’ll have…”
Waving his hand, Sapnap punches something into the cash register, pulling a tall cup off the stack with his other hand. “Let me take care of it, trust me.”
The boy closes his mouth mid-order, taken aback. “Oh--okay?”
The words come out as a question, and Sapnap tsks as he picks up a pen. “All I need is a name for the order.”
“Karl,” the boy says, a hair too loud. “Karl Jacobs.” he repeats, slightly softer.
“Well, Karl,” Sapnap finishes his scribbling, sliding the cup down the counter. “I’m going to get that started for you.”
He spun on his heel back toward where the drinks were prepared, bending down and reaching into one of the minifridges. HIs fingers coasted over creamer and ice coffee refills, brushing past whipped cream and pre-cut fruit. He found what he was looking for in the way back, the product of a gas station across the way and one too many mornings drinking nutty, strong coffee. Even though it was September pushing October, he’d wanted something lighter, something fizzier, something a bit more explosive, as the summer heat faded.
Placing the can on the counter, he seized the hot cup and popped the tab, figuring the opaque sides of the takeaway cup would be enough to staunch Wilbur’s curiosity about what Karl had ordered. A toss of ice and he was pouring the drink in, orange liquid stunning and shimmery as it bubbled out of the can. With a quirk of a smile, he pressed the lid onto the cup and passed it to Karl.
“Try that.”
He knew that Karl had watched him pour it into the cup, could certainly tell what the drink was, but he still savored the expression on his face as he took the first sip. Karl’s eyes widened slightly as the carbonation hit his tongue, and Sapnap crinkled his nose in delight.
“What is it?” he asked, taking another long drink and pursing his lips appreciatively.
“Tell Wilbur it’s a Sunrise. Sapnap’s specialty.”
They shared a look over the counter, their eyes meeting in a way that felt more intimate than a coffee shop could handle.
“Thank you,” Karl said, turning to leave with a little wave.
Sapnap watched him, wishing the interaction had lasted longer.
He needn’t have worried. The very next day, the boy was back, and Sapnap was prepared. He poured the same drink into the same type of cup, watching as Karl accepted it with a beaming smile and anticipatory expression. It became their little secret to hide from Wilbur, undisclosed and exciting.
Maybe it was wishful thinking, maybe it was a crush, maybe it was the 2/$5 sale at the convenience store across the street, but the chai concentrate and oatmilk soon hid an entire row of cans in electric colors. Ultra Paradise in lime green, Ultra White a crisp silver color, Ultra Fiesta the brightest teal, and Ultra Watermelon, practically glowing pinkish red. All collected condensation, standing straight and tall, waiting as if with baited breath for Karl to return.
And return he did. For two weeks straight, Sapnap filled a paper coffee cup with the energy cocktail, always passing it over with a wink and a smile. Wilbur had been none the wiser as to Karl’s newest caffeine habit, distracted by choking down his own black coffee like the artisan masochist he pretended to be.
Everything shifted during one opening shift. In the early haze, Sapnap was just a little less alert than usual. As he scrubbed down the coffee machines and started water boiling, he reached into the minifridge and cracked the can open without thinking. The light orange flavor spread over his tongue, bubbles tickling his nose.
The bells over the door sounded their familiar chime, as a brunette in a blue hoodie entered the cafe. Sapnap tossed him his usual smile, waving him over. He didn’t bother to meet him over the cash register anymore, just moved to start his drink. He remembered that Ultra Sunrise, the drink he was having now, was the first flavor he’d poured for Karl, and his hand reached back into the minifridge to check which flavor he’d get the other boy to try today.
To his shock, the fridge was empty. Inadvertently, burdened by the dawn shift, Sapnap had started drinking the last Monster.
“Shiiiiit,” he said, quietly, mostly to the can than to anyone else. He twirled it in his fingers. Tradition ruined. Cute boy disappointed. How in the hell was he going to fix this?
“Sapnap?” Karl questioned, walking over and settling his arms on the counter to lean toward him. “I hate to rush you, but I have to get to an early class today.”
“You’re fine!” Sapnap squeaked from below the counter. “Just--hang on.”
He pulled the Sharpie off of his apron strap, scrawling ten digits on the side of an empty cup. Popping back up, he set the cup on the counter in front of Karl, and tipped the can of Monster back to his lips, attempting to slip back into confidence.
Karl’s eyes dropped to the cup and its suspicious lightness. When he realized that there was nothing special about it, no beverage inside, his eyes wandered back up. They followed Sapnap intensely, watching the movement of his mouth as he drank, the ripple of his throat while he swallowed.
“Was that one--”
“Supposed to be for you?” Sapnap swirled the liquid around in the bottom of the can, contemplative. “Uh, yeah. It’s my last one. Sorry about that.”
“No, it’s all right, I--”
“You can still taste it,” Sapnap blurted.
Karl’s wide eyes caused regret to bloom in his stomach as soon as the words were loosed. What the fuck, what the fuck, that was a really weird thing to say. What the, no, no no. “I mean…”
The boy tipped his head slightly to the left, narrowing his eyes, a grin playing on his lips. “What do you mean, taste it?”
Sapnap swallowed. “You can…” the words were whispered, “Off my mouth.”
Karl’s smile was ginormous now. “Sapnap, are you telling me that one kiss will be enough to make it through my day?”
Sapnap squeezed his eyes shut. “It was dumb, that was stupid of me to say--”
“Huh,” Karl teased, pleased with his toying. “You think that much of your kisses?”
“Please just forget I said it, I don’t want it to be weird--” his voice was borderline frantic now, slipping into panic.
“Shut up, Sap.” Karl threaded his fingers through Sapnap’s apron strings, pulling the barista in close. “C’mere.”
The soft press of lips, Sapnap’s slightly chilled from his drink and Karl’s warm from budding laughter, was better than any jolt of caffeine.