Work Text:
“Can I get a medium latte with a pump of caramel to go, please?”
Misty lifts her head quickly, promptly hitting it off the underside of the counter and dropping the box of straws she had been searching for.
“Shit!” she winces. She rubs her hand over her scalp. Leaving the straws scattered on the floor, she rises to her knees – carefully this time – and pokes her head up to peek above the counter. She can see Mallory’s back as she puts the order through the register, and she shuffles slightly to the left to see around her.
A medium latte with a pump of caramel to go had become a fixed part of Misty’s life over the past three months. There were always certain orders that stuck in her mind, but this one had less to do with random requests and more to do with the woman ordering it.
The same woman comes into the coffee shop where Misty works every weekday morning at exactly 8:40, orders the same drink, flashes a perfect smile in thanks, and usually causes Misty to spill something the second she walks back out the door. She’s beautiful, with honey blonde hair and dark brown eyes, always dressed impeccably and walking in with an air of confidence that makes Misty envious. Sometimes, she isn’t sure if she wants to be her or be with her.
(She does know, and it is definitely the latter.)
Misty has worked in Happiness for two years now. She loves her job – chatting with strangers, sneaking lollipops to little kids, and managing to put a smile on the face of even the most caffeine deprived early morning customers. The coffee shop isn’t big, but it gives off a cosy vibe that makes it very popular, especially among students. There are various indoor plants in every available space, and fairy lights are strung all around the shop. She loves the little shop, and she’s a good barista, except for when a certain blonde woman makes an appearance and Misty inevitably drops something or burns herself, thankfully never in view of her.
“What are you doing?”
Mallory pauses with her hand hovering over the caramel and tilts her head at Misty. She sheepishly gets off the floor, dusting off her knees and clearing her throat. “I, uh, dropped some straws.”
Mallory looked down at the straws that Misty was pointedly not picking up before throwing a glance over her shoulder. “Are you hiding from the pretty customer?”
Misty and Mallory had started working together at roughly the same time, and they were quick to become best friends in the weeks that followed. They’re similar, but with enough differences to make their friendship work. Mallory is a nice person, and Misty is glad to have her. Following the laws of best friendship, Misty had immediately told Mallory the first time she served the woman – now referred to as ‘the pretty customer’ – and Mallory has done nothing but tease her about it since. If you’re not going to at the very least have a conversation with her, then you deserve to be teased, she would say every time.
“I wasn’t hiding,” Misty defends. “I was… working.”
Mallory just rolls her eyes and pumps some caramel into the coffee in her hand, fitting a lid on it and turning back to the counter. “There you go,” she says sweetly. “I love your dress, by the way.”
The blonde glances down at herself and smiles at Mallory. “Oh, thank you!”
“No problem. Have a nice day!”
Mallory’s customer service smile drops the second she turns back to face Misty. “See how easy that was? Maybe if you weren’t such a useless lesbian you might be able to manage it someday.”
Misty childishly sticks her tongue out in response. She kneels back down and starts picking up the straws, shoving them haphazardly back into the box they fell out of. “Easy for you to say,” she mutters as she thinks about Mallory’s comment.
Hearing the door open and shut, Misty steps out from the back of the shop, hoping whoever had decided to arrive three minutes before closing was planning on having their coffee to go. Spotting a flash of brown hair sitting on one of the tables, she grins and sits up beside her.
“Hey, Zo.”
Zoe was the third member of Misty and Mallory’s trio at work. She had started in the shop at the beginning of the summer and the other two immediately took to her. Between the three of them, they were a balanced group who worked together, both in and out of work. Since going back to college, Zoe’s shifts were now reduced to weekends and holidays, and Misty had come to miss her around the place. She still lived in the area, however, which meant she tended to appear some evenings to keep the girls company while they closed up.
“What happened your hand?” Zoe asks in lieu of a proper greeting.
Misty looks down and rubs the small mark on the back of her hand. “Oh, nothin’ dramatic. Just spilled some hot milk on it earlier.”
“She was distracted by the pretty customer!” Mallory calls from the back.
Misty scowls over her shoulder in Mallory’s direction, even though the other girl can’t see her from the storage room, before a nudge to the ribs brings her attention back to Zoe.
“Aw, she makes you clumsy, that’s so cute,” Zoe teases. She giggles when Misty shoulders her lightly. “I can’t believe I still haven’t seen her.”
Because Zoe rarely worked weekdays anymore, never mind the early shift, she had yet to see the current object of Misty’s affection, only hearing about her from Misty and Mallory. Despite never seeing her, Zoe still had no qualms about teasing Misty alongside Mallory, although the romantic in her was cheering Misty on and silently hoping something would happen. From what she heard, Misty had a pretty big crush on this mystery woman, and Zoe wanted nothing more than for it to work out in her favour.
“She makes me look stupid,” Misty complains. She had to hand it to Mallory and Zoe; they had been model friends when it came to listening to Misty complain about her crush. “Every time I see her, I’m guaranteed to do something clumsy. She probably thinks I’m an idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot,” Zoe reassures.
“She’s right,” Mallory agrees. She silently holds out a sweeping brush and Misty hops off the table to take it from her. “Although I have to admit, you’re pretty entertaining when she’s around.” She dodges Misty’s playful swat with the brush. “You’re just nervous, Mist, it’s normal. Just not for you.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you nervous around someone,” Zoe muses.
“I don’t like it,” Misty says. Her sweeping gets more aggressive. She pauses to blow a curl out of her face and stops taking her frustration out on the floor.
“You could always ask her out some time.”
Misty and Zoe both turn to look at Mallory. There’s a second of silence before Zoe lets out a snort, covering her mouth with her hand when Misty glares at her.
“Sorry,” she mutters. “It’s just, hearing about how you act around her, I think Mallory might be being a bit ambitious.”
Misty hits her leg with the brush and then does the same to Mallory. “As if, Mal, you’ve seen how I get around her. Zoe’s right, I can barely string together a sentence.”
Mallory holds her hands up in defeat. “Just a suggestion,” she defends.
Misty groans. “I hate my life,” she says simply.
“Can I have a medium latte with a pump of caramel to go, please?”
The woman doesn’t look up from where she’s rooting through her handbag while she makes her order, giving Misty the chance to watch her for a few seconds longer than she strictly should. Her hair is tied back into a ponytail today, and she’s wearing a patterned green shirt that somehow made Misty think of a forest.
A second too late, she realises that the woman has looked up, and Misty starts. “Right, sorry, your coffee.”
She rolls her eyes at herself while she makes the drink. She is a naturally confident person, always has been, and she had never been shy or awkward around women, always managing to charm them with a compliment or a well-timed joke, always paired with a smile. This woman was singlehandedly ruining Misty’s ability to flirt, and she didn’t appreciate it.
Turning back to the woman, she hears Mallory’s words ringing in her ears, and reaches into her pocket to pull out a sharpie.
“What’s your name?”
“You don’t normally put names on the cups,” the woman says, her voice lilting up slightly at the end as if she were asking a question.
Misty shrugs with the marker poised over the cup, hoping she was coming across as casual and confident despite the internal screaming in her head. “Tryin’ somethin’ new.”
The woman blushes, perhaps embarrassed by her response, and Misty has to revert to manual breathing at the sight of the light pink hue that settles momentarily on her cheeks.
“Cordelia.”
Cordelia. At least Misty wouldn’t have to refer to her as ‘the pretty customer’ anymore. Well she probably would, but at least now she had options.
“Cordelia,” she repeats out loud. She writes the name on the cup as neatly as she can and hands it to her with a smile. “I’m Misty.”
“I know,” Cordelia says without thinking. Upon spying Misty’s raised eyebrow, her blush seems to return in full force. “I didn’t mean for that to sound so weird.” She bites her lip and gives a small, self-deprecating smile. “I saw it on your name tag a while ago. I come here a lot,” she adds, as if Misty hasn’t been watching the door for her to enter every morning for three months.
“Well, in that case I’ll have to make sure to remember your order from now on,” Misty smiles, and it’s the smoothest she’s been around this woman ever, and she thanks every god in the universe that she’s suddenly regained the ability to speak to women.
Cordelia pushes her hair behind her ear and stifles a smile as she takes her coffee and taps her card against the machine.
Misty watches her leave in a totally not creepy way, and the second she’s out of sight she fist bumps the air, past caring about people seeing.
“Do I even want to know?” Mallory asks warily when she appears after her break. Misty is still wearing a stupidly big smile considering all she managed to do was ask for her name, but she’s counting it as progress.
“Cordelia,” she says, and Mallory raises her hands in a mixture of confusion and giving up. “Her name is Cordelia. And I spoke to her without fucking up, so there.”
Saturdays are one of Misty’s favourite days of the week. She only works a short shift in the afternoon, which means she doesn’t have to get up at the crack of dawn, and once 3 o’clock comes, she’s done until Monday morning. Even though Saturdays are busy, her, Mallory, and Zoe all worked the same shift so the time went fast.
Saturdays also give Misty a chance to breathe, since Cordelia only ever comes in on weekdays.
It’s surprising how used to Cordelia’s routine Misty was, despite never having held an actual conversation with her. She comes in at 8:40 every morning, always well dressed, so Misty figures she is probably on her way to work. She wonders what she does. Lawyer? Business woman? She always looks professional, so it feels safe to assume she has a good job. Part of Misty misses seeing her on Saturdays, but on the other hand she doesn’t know if her blood pressure can handle much more of this whole pining from a distance for a woman she doesn’t even know thing.
She chews the cap of her pen thoughtfully while her eyes scan the list in her hand. Stock check is normally left until closing, but they are unusually quiet today, so Misty is able to get a head start on ordering in whatever they’re running low on.
Removing the pen from her mouth to scrawl napkins on her list, she curses under her breath and shakes the pen when the ink comes out faint. Throwing it in the direction of the bin, she steps back into the main part of the shop to get a new one, and promptly walks directly into one of the presses at the voice she hears at the counter.
She looks up and spots none other than Cordelia talking on the phone, on a Saturday, on the one day Misty is supposed to have a reprieve from her stupidly stupid crush. She blinks, thinking maybe she bumped her head again and is having some weird concussion induced hallucination, but it’s still Cordelia standing there 30 seconds later when Misty finally manages to drag her eyes away.
Her eyes dart to the clock: 1:53. Misty’s break doesn’t start for another seven minutes, meaning she should really stop panicking and serve Cordelia. Before she gets the chance to compose herself and head to the front counter, Zoe appears out of thin air and flashes a bright smile.
“Hey Cordelia! What can I get for you?”
Misty watches as Cordelia immediately starts chatting with Zoe while the younger woman makes her drink (not in a to go cup, meaning she was staying for once), her eyes darting between the two. She has no idea what’s going on, but she feels strangely out of the loop.
As soon as Cordelia pockets her change and takes her drink to one of the tables, Misty makes a beeline for Zoe and yanks her out of view of the customers.
“Ow, what was that for?” Zoe complains.
“You know her?”
Zoe gives her a confused look. “Know who?”
Misty nods in the direction of Cordelia’s table and Zoe follows her gaze. “Oh, Cordelia? Yeah, why?”
Misty closes her eyes for a second and prays for patience. “Remember that really pretty customer I told you about? The one who comes in every morning?” Misty fixes her with a look. “That’s her,” she hisses.
Zoe’s eyes widen almost comically. “Cordelia?” she whisper screams. “She’s the customer you like? Oh my God, this is amazing.”
Misty groans. “I can’t believe you’ve known her all this time. How do you know each other?”
“She used to live next door to me until she moved a few months ago. She tutored me for a little while when I was in high school.”
“She’s a teacher?”
Misty looks over at Cordelia, who’s reading a book while she sips her coffee. She can picture her standing in front of a class, shaping young minds.
“Yeah, English,” Zoe answers. “She works in the local middle school, it’s about ten minutes away from here.”
Zoe looks at Misty. “She’s really nice,” she says casually. “I think you’d get on really well.”
Misty thinks on Zoe’s words all throughout her lunch break. The thing is, she does feel like her and Cordelia would get on really well if they knew each other. Cordelia seems like the kind of person Misty would enjoy being friends with, if she didn’t feel a crushing sensation in her chest and become the world’s biggest clutz every time she saw her.
Sighing, she chucks the last bite of her bagel in the bin and heads back to work, determined to function like a normal human being for the last stretch of her shift. As she takes over from Zoe at the tills, Cordelia gets up from her table, stopping briefly to say bye to Zoe as she passes her.
Zoe immediately grabs Misty’s arm in a tight grip. “Cordelia, this is my friend Misty,” she introduces. “She was just telling me that she recognised you.”
Misty kicks Zoe where she can’t be seen from behind the counter, plastering on a smile as Zoe masks her yelp with a cough. Cordelia’s eyes are warm when she smiles at Misty, saying something about recognising Misty as well that the taller blonde barely hears over the voice in her head screaming that her and Cordelia are actually having a conversation, albeit merely small talk.
By the time Cordelia leaves, there’s not long left in Misty’s shift, and she feels like she’s floating as she serves her last few customers. Zoe buzzes around behind her smugly, filling Mallory in on what had happened. Misty ignores the unprofessional squeal that comes from Mallory and lets her brain make the drinks on automatic.
Next time, she promises herself, next time I’m gonna do something about it.
Next time doesn’t quite go to plan.
Cordelia had arrived earlier than usual that morning, meaning that Misty didn’t get to see her. She appears again, though, that afternoon, and Misty says a silent thanks that Mallory is on break and can’t see the way her face brightens the second Cordelia walks through the door.
Cordelia greets her warmly when she gets to the counter, seemingly considering them friends now that Zoe has introduced them. “Hi Misty. Can I have a medium latte with a pump of caramel and an iced latte with a pump of vanilla, please?”
Misty pauses from where she was automatically reaching for a cup. Two coffees? “Uh, do you want them to go?”
Cordelia shakes her head. “For here, please.”
She continues to chat to Misty while her drink is being made, tapping her card when Misty holds the machine out towards her. Misty enjoys talking to her, but the extra order lurks in the back of her mind, the irrational fear that maybe Cordelia is on a date, or maybe she’s already in a relationship and Misty has just been fooling herself all this time.
She plasters on her best customer service smile nonetheless and hands Cordelia the drinks, feeling warm at the soft smile she gets in return.
For the next few minutes, Misty’s head turns every time the door opens, and she manages to spill milk three times. She watches as a fancily dressed woman enters and scans the shop briefly before she makes a beeline for Cordelia’s table. Her heart sinks slightly at the warm hug they exchange, feeling a jealousy she has no right to feel.
“What’s wrong?” She jumps slightly when Zoe’s voice appears over her shoulder. Even though it’s a Thursday, Zoe is on break this week, so she’s been back to working the weekday shifts. Misty, however, keeps forgetting that she’s here, and has been startled by her presence no less than half a dozen times all week. “You look like someone just kicked your puppy.”
Misty goes to tell her about Cordelia’s probably-definitely date with the other woman when Zoe waves over at the table, getting a wave back from both women.
“Do you know the second woman as well?” Misty asks.
Zoe shoves her out of the way lightly to get to the till. “Yeah, her name’s Coco, I used to see her a lot when Cordelia lived next door.”
Misty’s shoulders slump at the answer. Zoe’s face morphs into a teasing smirk. “They’re best friends. Apparently they’ve known each other since college.”
Oh.
“Oh.”
Zoe shakes her head at her. “Idiot,” she mutters, but there’s no heat in in. “Have you been standing here thinking she’s Cordelia’s girlfriend or something?”
“No,” Misty says stubbornly. She purses her lips at Zoe’s look. “Maybe.”
Zoe rolls her eyes so hard Misty’s surprised it didn’t hurt. She looks back over to the table, Cordelia’s head thrown back in laughter at whatever story Coco is telling, complete with dramatic hand gestures.
Maybe if she tells herself she’ll do something ‘next time’ enough times it will finally come true.
The next next time, Misty decides to stop pining and actually do something.
Cordelia seems to be in a rush this morning – she’s six whole minutes later than she usually is, and she comes through the door like a hurricane. She’s barely paying attention to Misty while she makes her drink, and for once Misty is glad for the limited conversation. It gives her a second to breathe and make sure she doesn’t chicken out, and also means that Cordelia is most likely in too much of a rush to look too closely at her cup until well after she leaves the shop, which Misty would much prefer.
She sneaks a glance over her shoulder at Cordelia before she pulls her trusty sharpie out of her pocket and scrawls something across the to go cup, turning it so the blank side is facing Cordelia. The other woman smiles, and she may be hurrying, but her smile is no less genuine, as is the heartfelt “thanks Misty” that accompanies it. Cordelia stuffs her change into the tip jar – “consider it an apology for being in a rush” – and in the next second, she’s gone, leaving the sweet smell of her perfume behind.
Misty stands for a few seconds and stares at the door, only panicking slightly at the consequences of her actions that will surely appear soon.
“If you keep frowning like that you’re gonna get wrinkles.” Mallory appears at her side, and Misty barely starts at the interruption to her thoughts. “What’s up?”
Misty continues to look straight ahead. “I may or may not have written my phone number on Cordelia’s coffee cup. And I may or may not have deliberately faced the cup so she wouldn’t see it until after she left.”
If Misty were looking at Mallory, she’d probably laugh at the expression on her face. As it is, she’s too busy fighting her rising nausea. She takes a deep breath and turns to clean the coffee machine.
“I used to be so good with women,” she sighs wistfully.
It’s late when Misty’s phone lights up with a notification.
She’d spent the rest of the day tripping over her own feet and dropping a box of chocolate powder no less than three times in two minutes. Her head automatically turns to look at the door every time she hears it open, even though she knows Cordelia is at work and will absolutely not be walking in any time soon. Misty had strategically planned this for a Friday, so that if Cordelia chose to ignore her move, at least she wouldn’t have to see her again until Monday.
She kept herself busy in between customers by unlocking and locking her phone approximately 20 times a minute and nearly dropping it every time she got a notification.
All in all, it hasn’t been a great day, and by the time 9pm comes around, her nerves are shot.
She’s mindlessly scrolling through Netflix trying to find something to watch when she hears the ding, and she’s almost embarrassed by how fast she reaches for her phone.
She takes a second before she looks at it, telling herself that it’s probably Mallory, or Zoe, or maybe even just a useless notification from one of those news apps she has on her phone.
Unknown Number: Do you write your number on every cup you give out at work?
Misty pauses.
Or it could be Cordelia.
She stifles the stupidly wide smile that’s threatening to take over her face and quickly adds the number to her contacts. She bites her lip and considers her answer, because Cordelia has just texted her, which means she wasn’t scared off by Misty slightly forward move, which means maybe – maybe – Misty might be in with a chance here.
Misty: only the pretty ones
She figures she might as well go all out now that she’s here, because if Cordelia hasn’t already figured out that Misty likes her based on her writing her number on a cup, then all the flirting in the world isn’t going to get the hint across.
Cordelia: I’m glad I made the list
Okay, Misty thinks. She gets the hint.
Cordelia: Sorry for leaving it so late to text, I got caught up grading tests
Misty: no worries, i’m sure you’re a busy woman
Misty goes to press play on a random season of Friends and hears her phone go off again. She tosses the remote to the other end of the couch and opens the text with a smile.
Netflix can wait.
“So then what happened?”
Misty shrugs and passes Mallory a handful of sugar sachets. The younger woman stuffs them into the tray without taking her eyes off Misty, completely invested in her story. She holds her hand out for more sachets.
“Nothin’, we just chatted for a while longer.”
Mallory narrows her eyes. “How much longer?”
Misty shrugs again, but this time her casual façade is paired with a bite to her lower lip as she steadily avoids eye contact. “I dunno, an hour or two. Until we went to bed.”
Mallory throws a bunch of sachets at her, ignoring the way they flutter to the ground around the pair. “Misty! This is a big deal!”
Misty smiles shyly and bends down to pick up the sugar. “We talked about, like, everything,” she admits. “It was really nice.”
“Of course it was nice!” Mallory exclaims. She throws another fistful of sachets at Misty and ignores her glare.
“If you’re gonna keep throwing shit at me, you’re gonna have to be the one to pick it up,” she grumbles, shoving them back in their box. Despite her complaints, she hides a smile at Mallory’s enthusiasm. Mallory is always there for Misty, and she’d glad to have the support of someone she can tell about all the silly details of her still crushing crush. Except now, it feels like someone is sitting on her chest and more like a weighted blanket covering her. She thinks back on the good morning text Cordelia had sent her earlier and smiles.
She pulls out her phone as soon as Mallory has taken the empty boxes to the bin. There’s nothing from Cordelia, but she opens up their chat anyways and re-reads the texts from last night, painfully aware of the warm feeling they give her.
In a plot twist Misty never would have seen coming a few months ago, her and Cordelia become friends.
“What do you normally get here?”
Misty looks up from the piece of paper she had been doodling aimlessly on. Cordelia’s eyes remain glued to the menu, flickering across the options. They’re unusually quiet this morning, and even with Mallory being off for a dentist appointment, Misty is more than able to handle the few customers they have by herself.
“Um, I’m not really a coffee person, actually, but we do some really nice teas, so I usually have one of them. Sometimes iced.”
Cordelia glances up, dramatically holding a hand to her chest. “Not a coffee person?”
Misty rolls her eyes but shakes her head with a shrug. “Nah, makes my hands shake. I get all… fuzzy.”
“Fuzzy,” Cordelia nods seriously.
Misty narrows her eyes at her. “Are you mocking me?” she asks, and even though she doesn’t mind, she still tries to act offended.
It clearly doesn’t work if Cordelia’s answering smirk is anything to go by.
“Of course not,” she says. “I’m merely admiring your English skills. Shakespeare worthy, one could say.”
Misty laughs at that despite her attempts to stay serious. She stands from her stool and leans over the counter. “What can I get you, Miss Cordelia?
“I fancy something different.” Cordelia ponders the menu again before resting her elbows on the counter. “Surprise me with one of those teas you’re so partial to.”
It strikes Misty suddenly that she’s so close she can see Cordelia’s freckles, partially covered by her foundation. She clears her throat abruptly, feeling warmth crawl up her neck, and takes a step back. “Comin’ right up,” she promises.
She knows she’s chosen right when Cordelia’s eyes close at the first sip, and she ignores the overwhelming urge to kiss her there and then.
“Good?” she grins.
Cordelia opens her eyes and nods earnestly. “Good,” she agrees. “I can almost see how you prefer it to coffee.”
“Coffee is overrated,” Misty says, leaning back in as if she’s sharing a conspiracy. Drumming her fingers against the wood, she continues distractedly. “Not livin’ off iced coffee is the one stereotype I don’t fall into.”
That gets Cordelia’s attention.
“Stereotype?” she questions.
As soon as she realises what she’s said, her brain loses about a dozen brain cells. It wasn’t even a funny joke, so she has once again managed to embarrass herself for no reason.
“Um, yeah, I,” she stutters. “Gay,” is what is eventually blurted out, and oh my god she’s never living this down. “I’m gay, I mean.”
Although she’s fairly certain Cordelia’s not homophobic (unless she’s read all the potentially flirty comments very wrong), there’s still a painful pause that in Misty’s mind lasts no less than ten minutes before she responds.
“Oh, I get the joke now,” is what she says, followed by- “Me too.”
Misty chokes slightly on the swig of water she had just taken in an attempt to help her suddenly very dry throat. “You- you are?”
Cordelia nods as she checks her phone and fires off a quick text. “Well, bisexual,” she explains further. “But I think we’re allowed to claim iced coffee too.” She grins at Misty and pushes herself off the counter, holding her phone up. “I have to go before I get fired. See you tomorrow?”
She waves as she leaves, and Misty manages to stand still for the whole thirty seconds it takes Cordelia to leave the shop before she races to text Mallory and Zoe.
She pretends the middle aged man at a table doesn’t see her do her happy dance, and she’s grateful that he also pretends it didn’t happen.
Misty: do you maybe wanna do something tonight? I was thinkin of ordering some food and watching a movie if you’d like to come round
It’s not a date, even if it feels just like one.
It’s not, though, which is what Misty keeps telling herself.
She keeps telling herself that even when Cordelia chooses to sit beside her on the couch instead of the two other available seats in the room.
She keeps telling herself that even when Cordelia steadily grows closer as the movie progresses, until she’s eventually resting against Misty with her head leaning on her shoulder.
She keeps telling herself that even when Cordelia places a hand on Misty’s leg to balance herself as she reaches for another slice of pizza and leaves it there after she’s leaned back into the couch.
She tells herself over and over again throughout the night, despite it feeling more like a date than any of the actual dates she’s been on in recent years.
She hopes that next time, it will be date, and she can throw her legs over Cordelia’s and put an arm around her and play with her incredibly soft looking hair when she rests her head on Misty’s shoulder. And maybe if it were a date Misty wouldn’t feel like she was struggling to breathe the second Cordelia’s head lay against her shoulder, as if the light weight was somehow constricting her airways.
Eventually, it nears midnight, and Cordelia shifts away from Misty and sits up fully.
“I should go,” she says, and Misty hopes she isn’t imagining the slight reluctance in her tone.
“Right,” Misty says. “Yeah, of course.”
She walks Cordelia to the door, and they both pause before she opens it, not wanting the night to end quite yet.
“I had a really nice time,” Cordelia says quietly.
“Me too,” Misty replies, struggling to drag her eyes away from where Cordelia’s teeth worry her bottom lip. “We should do it again sometime.”
There’s a pause, and Cordelia holds her gaze. “We should do it properly next time,” she continues. “Maybe go out for dinner or something.” She tags on the or something in a brief moment of nerves and a half-assed attempt to come across as slightly less than desperate.
“Properly?” Cordelia questions.
Misty blushes and hopes she can pass it off for just being warm. “Yeah, uh, like- I dunno maybe, uh-“
“Do you mean like a date?”
Cordelia saves her from the inarticulate mess she’s managed to work herself into. Her eyes have a teasing glint to them, and Misty’s glad to know she hasn’t embarrassed herself completely.
“Yeah,” she replies, sounding more confident than she feels. “Yeah, like a date.”
Cordelia smiles at that, and Misty swears she sees stars at the sight. There’s very little she wouldn’t do, she decides in that moment, to see that smile again and again until the stars turn into galaxies.
“I’d like that,” Cordelia nods. She leans in to press a gentle kiss to Misty’s cheek before she heads out the door with a wave, and Misty can feel her lips crying out in jealousy.
If she holds a hand to her cheek for a minute after she closes the door, there’s no one around to judge her for it.
The next few weeks go by in a blur, but Misty feels like she can remember every second.
Her and Cordelia’s second date comes and goes, as does their third, and fourth, until Misty stops counting and they somehow fall into the routine of calling each other every night.
Their first kiss comes with the third date, dinner in Cordelia’s house, and it’s absolutely nothing like Misty had imagined (as she had been doing several times a week since she first laid eyes on Cordelia), but is somehow better than she dreamed purely because it was real. It’s also nothing like the perfect kisses in the romcoms that Mallory has forced her to sit through, and she manages to knock over and break a glass, but it makes Cordelia laugh so hard she has to pause the kiss to lean against the kitchen counter, and Misty couldn’t even bring herself to feel embarrassed when Cordelia tugs her back in with a fond mumble of “you’re an idiot”.
After a few weeks, Misty decides it’s time to make another move, and so she buys a bunch of tulips and arrives on Cordelia’s doorstep to ask her to be her girlfriend.
She says yes, and Misty doesn’t mention that tulips mean perfect love, because so far Mallory is the only person Misty has confessed to that she can see this going all the way.
Cordelia doesn’t mention it either, but there’s a certain look in her eye that makes Misty believe she already knew the meaning of tulips.
“Can I have a medium latte with a pump of caramel to go, please?”
Misty beams across the counter when Cordelia approaches, offering a wave to Mallory as she passes by. She produces a cup, drink already made, and quickly writes her number on the cup, exactly as she does every morning. Cordelia smiles when she spots her doing it, her smile growing when she sees the small love heart Misty added at the end.
“You already had my drink ready?” she questions softly.
Misty winks at her. “You come in every morning at the exact same time, Delia, it’s not exactly hard to time it so the drink will still be warm when you get here.”
Cordelia rolls her eyes fondly and adds her change to the tip jar. “For Zoe’s college fund,” she says, and Misty grins widely.
“Dinner tonight?” she asks.
Cordelia nods while she checks her watch. “I’ll cook,” she offers. She leans across the counter to press a quick kiss to Misty’s lips. “I have to go before I’m late, but come over any time.”
She’s gone before Misty can even reply, and she pulls her phone out of her back pocket.
Misty: have a great day <3
She makes herself a tea before yelling to Mallory that she’s taking her break, finishing a few levels of Candy Crush while munching on some Oreos.
Her phone buzzes just as she loses her last life, and she swipes into her notifications.
Cordelia: Do you write your number on every cup you give out at work?
Misty smiles to herself and shoves the last of her Oreo into her mouth so she can text back, wiping the crumbs on her jeans.
Misty: only the pretty ones