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Ashton always gets to the coffee shop extra early on Mondays.
It’s a failsafe in case something has gone wrong over the weekend that he somehow didn’t notice, but it’s also simply because he likes to have a moment to prepare himself for the week. As he turns on the ovens to bake the dough that had been previously set to rise and prepares the other pastries for the day, he likes to know that he has time to spare with it. He closes his eyes and breathes in the scent of his shop: the coffee that he’s making for himself and will soon brew for patrons, the new soap he bought that smells a bit stronger than he typically likes, the sugary sweetness of the sugar crystals Michael is going to sprinkle on some of the cupcakes after frosting them when he gets in. There are sounds, too: the faint rumble of the occasional stray car passing by outside before the rest of the city wakes, the drip of coffee into a mug, the steady whir of the mixer as he uses it.
The coffee shop feels different when it’s just him inside. He could wait for Michael to arrive to begin the morning tasks, but it’s peaceful. Monday morning Ashton is one of Ashton’s favorite versions of himself, and the coffee shop is one of his favorite places. He’s fallen in love with it over the years of nurturing it from an alarming financial risk to a flourishing business, and he likes to remind himself every week of what it was like when he couldn’t afford to hire Michael to be the baker, starting early and staying late to make their pastries with only barista support during the day.
The calm doesn’t last forever, though. He’s filling cupcake tins when he hears Michael at the back door, fumbling to unlock it. He gave Ashton a heart attack the first few times he heard him rattling around there, worried that someone was breaking in, but now the sound is almost comforting.
“Mother fucker ,” Michael says as he enters, which is comforting in its own way, too. Michael isn’t himself if he isn’t complaining about the cold, and at this time of year there’s plenty of that to go around.
“It’s freezing out there,” he says, stomping his feet and yanking off his hat. “I can’t believe you make me come out in this weather, at this time in the morning.”
“You knew the hours when you applied for the job,” Ashton says levelly.
“Yeah, but I can still hate them.”
Ashton smiles at his cupcakes. They have this conversation at least once a week, and sometimes Michael shows up to work barely blinking sleep out of his eyes with an impressive bedhead, but he’s never been truly late despite how much of a night owl he is.
Not like Luke, who is late for half of his morning shifts. Ashton really should’ve fired him by now, but he loves him, and the customers do, too. They get more business when Ashton sets him behind the counter.
Besides, Michael and Luke both stuck with him when he was struggling, doing extra work off the record (and without telling him) to help keep the business afloat when he should’ve gone bankrupt and quit. The least he can do is keep them around now that he can afford to actually pay them well.
Michael puts his coat by the door, adorns his apron, and washes his hands. When the timer goes off he takes the bread from the oven with an appreciative hum.
“Move aside, Irwin,” Michael says, setting the trays on the cooling rack. “You’re taking up space in my kitchen. Don’t you have some coffee to make?”
“I’m sorry, whose shop is this?” Ashton asks. Michael flips him off and almost drops the cupcake tins he takes from him. Ashton laughs and heads to the front, hooking up a playlist and getting the space ready for customers. Luke’s shift begins before the shop opens, and Ashton is pleasantly surprised when he arrives a few minutes early for once. They work in tandem between yawns, pulling chairs down from the tables and wiping everything off, checking that the dishes and silverware are ready, and opening bags of paper cups. Luke makes himself a big cup of coffee as he gets the machines ready. Ashton leaves him to it in silence, giving him the time he needs to wake up so he can be peppy for the customers, even if he’s grumpy for Ashton and Michael.
Ashton grabs the finished baked goods from the kitchen, setting up peanut butter bars, breads, scones, and cookies in the display case. The cupcakes will go in once they’re done, and Michael has a few other things that he’ll make fresh over the course of his shift. Ashton will box up the leftovers to sell at a day-old discount tomorrow, then prepare everything for tomorrow’s baking before he leaves.
He’s glad that, as the owner, he gets to set the hours for the shop. Being closed for two days each week and shutting down by 5:00 at the latest each day means he’s still overworking, but not as much as he could be.
Ashton simply doesn’t trust anyone else with his shop. It’s his baby, and the thought of leaving it in someone else’s hands regularly for part of a shift doesn’t sit right. Besides, he enjoys being here more than he enjoys being anywhere else, even if he’s exhausted at the end of each day.
Luke finishes his coffee. Ashton checks the time, flips the sign from CLOSED to OPEN, and unlocks the door right in time for the first customer to duck inside, letting a burst of winter air in with them.
The mornings have a familiar rhythm to them, as well as many familiar faces. Ashton and Luke work around each other seamlessly to prepare drinks and hand them over the counter. The coffee shop slowly begins to fill with chatter, patrons, and the smell of fresh coffee and Michael’s baking. Ashton and Luke keep up with the crowd as best they can, but inevitably during the morning rush a line forms, forcing patrons to wait off to the side or scope out a table until they get their drink. Ashton doesn’t let it bother him, though. There’s much faster, cheaper coffee other places, but there’s something special about Ashton’s shop that keeps people coming back. Even if he doesn’t know everyone by name, he recognizes most people’s faces. There’s the woman who changes her hair color every few weeks and has an undercut who always gets an iced coffee canario, no matter how cold it is outside. There’s the couple who come in every Monday and switch up their order a lot, typically sharing sips with each other at the back table in the corner over a scone or piece of cake. There’s the man with a bleached buzz cut who always orders a small hot coffee only to stand in the corner, not drinking a sip.
That particular man started coming in two weeks ago, and he caught Ashton’s eye immediately. Something about his round cheeks, just barely tinted red by the cold, and small smile drew Ashton in, and even though Luke is typically the one who manages the cash register and takes orders while Ashton makes the coffee, the man’s smooth voice sounds like music to his ears.
The man gave his name as Calum . Ashton likes the alliteration when he calls out “Coffee for Calum!” and places it on the counter. Calum always smiles at him when he picks it up, but they haven’t officially spoken yet.
Today, Ashton watches him out of the corner of his eye, but he never brings the cup to his lips. Ashton has never seen him drink the coffee, although he hunches over it, letting the warmth hit his face and breathing in the smell, clutching the paper cup in both hands.
He leaves shortly before 8:00 in the morning. After the morning rush has died down and Luke has returned from wiping off tables, Ashton leans against the counter with another cup of coffee.
“Hey, we have good coffee, right?” he asks quietly. Luke frowns.
“Yeah, the best,” he says. “Why?”
Ashton shrugs. “Do you know Calum, the guy with a bleached buzz cut who orders one black coffee, then stands off to the side with it?” Luke nods. “He never drinks it. He doesn’t blow on it to get it cold enough to drink, either. He just stands there.”
“Why?” Luke asks.
“I don’t know,” Ashton replies. He takes a sip of his coffee. It’s exactly how he likes it, rich and flavorful, not too bitter but not sweet, either. He doesn’t understand why someone would order it, but not drink it.
“Maybe he’s lonely,” Ashton says, staring at the brown liquid.
“Huh?”
“My mom used to say that–”
“--’a warm drink is a hug in a mug,’ I know,” Luke says. “You’ve told me. Multiple times.”
“Maybe he needs one of those,” Ashton says. Luke purses his lips, squinting at Ashton.
“Are you projecting?” he asks cautiously. “I’ll give you a hug, if you want.”
“No, I’m fine,” Ashton smiles. “I’ve got my coffee, see?”
He holds up the mug. Luke snorts, then grabs a rag to wipe down the counter again. Ashton goes back to his coffee, thinking of the man with coffee-colored eyes who never drinks from his cup.
-/-
Ashton sees Calum in the shop every day they’re open that week and the next, and every day he stands in the corner, keeping to himself and not drinking a sip. Ashton gets a bit more elaborate with the way he calls out the beverage order, adding “have a good day” or “nice to see you again.” He can’t stop to talk with more customers to attend to, but he steals Luke’s marker to add a smiley face to the paper cup, or a quick note or pun. He tries not to stare when Calum gets his cup, but he manages enough furtive glances to catch the way Ashton’s notes make him smile.
They don’t have time to talk, and Calum always leaves a little before eight, but Ashton hopes that he brightens his day a little bit.
If Calum is feeling lonely, he hopes he feels a little less lonely now.
-/-
Ashton finishes stacking the last chair on top of the table, leaving the floor free to be swept. Michael took care of most of the baking prep before he left, and Ashton has already packaged what he needs to so it’ll keep until tomorrow. All that’s left is to sweep the floor, then leave. Typically that’s the closing barista’s job, but she wasn’t feeling well. He sent her home early, meaning that the little, menial tasks are left to him.
A movement outside the window catches his eye. People have been walking home since he closed, getting off their regular 9-5 shifts and hurrying to make it back before dinner and get out of the cold, but one person pauses, and Ashton hears the tell-tale sound of someone trying the door before he fully turns around.
Calum peers at the sign next to the door listing their hours. His face falls, and he ducks his head, turning up the collar of his coat.
Ashton can’t open the door for everyone who tries to come in after-hours, but he can make an exception just this once, even if Calum is already halfway down the street by the time Ashton drops the broom and gets the door unlocked.
“Calum!” he calls. The man doesn’t turn around, so he tries again, louder. “Calum!”
Calum pauses, then turns.
“Do you want to come in?” he calls, pointing to the shop. A gust of wind sends the freezing air right through Ashton’s clothes, causing him to shiver. Calum hesitates, but begins walking back.
“The sign says you’re closed,” he says once he’s close enough to do so without raising his voice.
“Come in anyway,” he says, holding open the door. Calum hesitates once again, but steps across the threshold into the shop. Ashton follows behind, thankful to be back in the warmth, rubbing his arms to dispel the goosebumps on them.
“We usually only see you here in the morning,” he says, taking down one of the chairs and offering it to Calum before getting one down across the table for himself. “What’s up?”
Calum cautiously sits, looking around the room like it’s brand new now that it’s empty. Maybe it is, to him, even if it’s more familiar to Ashton than the back of his hand.
“I had to stay late at work today,” Calum says. “I figured I’d stop back in. I don’t want to intrude–”
“Calum,” Ashton says, reaching for his hand before remembering that Calum might not be comfortable with that and pausing halfway across the table. “I don’t mind you being here. I invited you in, remember? You can leave anytime you want, but you can stay, too. Do you want a coffee?”
He considers, then shakes his head.
“I just wanted to get out of the cold, mostly. Staying late made me miss my bus.”
“I’m definitely glad I invited you in, then,” Ashton says. “Do you need a ride?”
“There’ll be another bus in half an hour,” Calum says. Ashton hums.
“Are you sure I can’t make you a coffee before then? I can do decaf, if you’re worried about staying up all night. We have other drinks, too.”
Calum shakes his head
“I wouldn’t drink it, anyway.”
It’s a simple enough sentence, but Calum freezes like he just confessed to a crime.
“I’ve noticed that,” Ashton says. “Why do you never drink your coffee? If you don’t like it, we can make you something else. You’re obviously allowed to do whatever you want with the coffee once you pay for it, but I’ve been wondering.”
Calum traces the pattern in the wood of the tabletop with his pointer finger.
“I, uh, just like the warmth,” he says sheepishly. “I don’t like coffee. I panicked the first time I got to the front of the line. I always forget my gloves and wanted something warm to hold while I walked the rest of the way to work, so I said the first thing that came to mind. It smells great, though! I’m sure if I liked coffee, I’d love the stuff you make.”
“What about tea or hot chocolate?” Ashton asks. Calum shrugs.
“I’m a man of routine. Started with the coffee and decided to stick to it.”
“Huh.”
Calum glances up at him.
“Am I still allowed to get coffee here?” he jokes. Ashton tilts his head and hums, pretending to consider his answer.
“Normally something like this could land you in jail, but I like you, so I’ll allow it.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” Calum chuckles, wiping pretend sweat off his forehead. “That was a close one.”
“Yeah, you’re too cute to kick out,” Ashton says.
It’s a simple phrase to test the waters. Calum seems comfortable enough around him, but Ashton can quickly backtrack if the flirting pushes his boundaries. Calum is cute, but it doesn’t have to be a come-on unless he wants it to be. Ashton is flexible.
Calum’s eyebrows shoot up, but he smiles.
“That’s good,” he says. “I haven’t found another coffee shop with a barista as cute as you, so this really is the best for both of us.”
“Yeah, it really is,” Ashton grins. They descend into a comfortable silence, broken only by the hum of the coffee machine that Ashton left on so he can have one more cup to go. Ashton eventually breaks it more to ask Calum about himself, since they never get to talk when he stops by in the mornings, and the conversation between them flows easily. By the time Calum glances at his phone and says he needs to leave soon unless he wants to miss his bus again, Ashton feels like it’s been two minutes instead of nearly thirty.
“Wait,” Ashton says, heading behind the counter and grabbing the paper cup he had set out for himself before putting the others away. He grabs the marker and scrawls his phone number and a smiley face, then pours the coffee.
“Here,” he says, presenting it with a flourish. “A hug in a mug, on the house. Something to keep your hands warm out there.”
“A hug in a mug?” Calum asks, taking the cup. His fingers curl around it protectively, and he takes a long sniff, breathing in the steam like Ashton has seen him do so many times before.
“It’s something my mom used to say,” Ashton says. “I wasn’t a huge fan of touch as a kid, so whenever I was upset she would make me tea or hot chocolate and say that it was a hug in a mug. It made me feel comforted without having to actually hug someone.”
“That’s sweet,” Calum says, expression softening. “Thanks for giving me one.”
“I wanted to,” Ashton says simply. “Besides, I like talking to you, and a phone number might be useful for that.”
Calum looks at the cup, shifting his grip to reveal the numbers. He smiles widely, a change from the small, polite smiles he’s given Ashton before. It makes his entire face light up, revealing crinkles around his eyes.
“I’ll text you,” he says.
“I’d like that,” Ashton replies. “Don’t lose the cup.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Calum says. “I might even try the coffee this time.”
“Go catch your bus,” Ashton grins, because if he doesn’t cut them off now he’s never going to let Calum leave the shop.
“See you tomorrow,” Calum says, saluting on his way out. Ashton watches him leave, then finally turns off the coffee machine.
He doesn’t need an extra cup today. He feels better giving it to Calum, and Calum gave him enough energy and warmth to get home just fine.