Chapter Text
He must have taken a wrong turn. Looking around there was nothing special about the street he was on, but it was unfamiliar nonetheless. It was getting a little dark, but the shops were all open still. It was a shame because he knew he had to be somewhere, but he couldn't remember how he had gotten lost no matter how much he tried. He needed to ask for directions, he decided, and made a turn into the nearest shop.
It was a nice little coffee shop; white walls, fancy but dated wrought-iron chairs and tables, and with flowers on the windowsills.
There was a sign, a wooden one hanging by some chains. He couldn't read what it said exactly, due to the chipped paint but it appeared to be a woman's name; *M*-something...
He opened the door and some bells jingled, grabbing the attention of the young man working the counter. He smiled politely, leaning forward.
"Can I get you anythin' mate?" he asked
"Uh..." Ringo stupidly uttered. Well, this wouldn't do. He was already lost physically, but now he was lost mentally too. The bloke was just stunning, like nothing he'd ever seen before. The smile had set the scene like petrol, and the voice that accompanied it was a lit match. Oh God, Ringo thought, he wasn't saying anything. He was just standing there like a fool. Then... he continued to not say anything. He knew he had to eventually speak up though, so he looked around for ideas. He took note that everyone inside was drinking coffee.
Oh. Well duh.
"Uh, err, a, uh, coffee thanks," he managed to get out.
The barista snorted, smirking a little, and then did a once over of him.
"Just a coffee? Yeah okay," he seemed to be teasing.
That nearly sent him back into full panic mode but he fought against it. Shaking his hands off and straightening his jacket, he stepped up closer to the counter.
"Yeah, just a flat white. Oh, and in a mug thanks," he clarified.
The barista strode over to a cupboard. Well it was less a cupboard and more like a bookshelf holding everything from mugs and cups, to books and ingredients of various descriptions... Even something that looked like cat food??
Anyway, the shiny coffee machine started up as the other man got to work. While he was busy, Ringo attempted to look at anything but him. He'd done enough psychic damage for now...
The chairs outside had all been iron, but the ones they had inside were all wooden. Everything was white with muted pastel colours scattered around everywhere to keep it from being boring. There were people sitting at the round glass tables, and some people were even on the floor by the windowsills on mats with cushions.
The place was cosy, that's for sure, but despite being full of people it was sort of quiet. In the background, aside from the sounds of coffee being made, there was a lad playing guitar softly in the corner, looking all mysterious like. It wasn't familiar but it sounded very romantic.
"Your coffee, mate?"
Ringo was shocked with the sudden interjection that he nearly fell off his chair. Thankfully, somehow the unnecessarily handsome barista had managed to get around the counter to catch him.
"Whoa! Careful there," he laughed, teasing him yet again.
Oh God, he didn't know what he was doing. He sort of wished he'd never walked inside the damn shop now. OH for Christ sake...
After the however many minutes it'd been by now, he finally remembered that he had originally only come in to ask for directions.
Well... Nothing left but to just drink the coffee, eh?
"Cheers, mate," he weakly smiled then took a sip of his Irn Bru.
Wait what.
He spat it back out and looked at the cup. What in the hell??? It wasn't coffee at all, it was just Irn Bru - soft drink...
"Is it alright?" the barista asked, looking way WAY too casual considering the circumstances.
Ringo just gaped at him. Is it alright?? God please, was he pretty AND stupid? Some folks went for that sure but not THIS stupid. Or was he just malicious? This had to be a joke.
"It's," he stammered, "it's just soft drink"
The other man scrunched his eyebrows up, pouting a little, "Oh?"
He took the mug away and looked at it before sipping it himself.
He nodded thoughtfully.
"Yeah it is a bit soft," he... agreed?
Before Ringo could say anything else, the barista turned around on a heel.
"I'll add some crunch to it. Make it have a little extra texture," he said as he reached for the CAT FOOD AND POURED IT IN-
"AAAAAH!"
He shot up in bed and thrashed around a bit, but after a few seconds he came to the groggy realisation that it'd been just some buck wild dream. Oh thank God, the pretty lad wasn't maliciously stupid. He caught himself thinking like that and snorted.
"Well that's proof I've got my priorities straight," he sighed. Nevermind 'thank God it was just a dream' or 'at least I didn't have to drink the cat food' NO, he was more worried about some figment of his imagination being daft on purpose.
Right. Anyway, he got out of bed, since he may as well, and got ready for the day.
Working at a music shop was not exactly how he had imagined his mid twenties, but being a fan of music he couldn't complain. It was sufficient, and his co-workers liked him, and he just about knew every regular customer by name. Easily he managed to nearly forget the strange dream. The sheer horror of cat food + soft drink (and the disappointment that the man of his dreams had actually been a dream) had faded by the next night.
.........