Work Text:
“Ron, can you work the cashier for me, I'm taking my break.”
Ron finished tying his apron around his waist, and glanced over at Hermione, nodding. Even though it was virtually empty in the café, save for a few college students Ron assumed were cramming for an exam, they were still required to have someone standing by the cash register, just in case someone walks in. Or at least, according to Harry.
“Why, again, did we think this was a good business plan for after college?” Ron groused, leaning against the counter behind the cash register, yawning. “What sane person would want a coffee at two in the morning?”
Hermione shrugged as she moved past him, settling down in one of the seats in the lounge area with her book. “It was you and Harry’s idea to have it open 24 hours.”
Ron rolled his eyes, and giving in to his desire to rest, slid down the cabinet to sit on the floor, convincing himself that he’ll only rest for a minute. If you had told pre-collage Ron that he would be working at a coffee shop in Los Angeles, California that he owned with his two best friends he would have laughed in your face. His freshman self lived and breathed writing, convinced he was going to be the next Rick Riordan, or something.
The sound of someone clearing their throat jolted Ron from his drowsy state, and he startled, almost falling sideways from his position on the floor. He glanced up, ready to apologize to whoever the lunatic who wanted coffee at two a.m. was and stopped.
The man leaning over the counter, was, in fact, the most attractive guy Ron had ever had the fortune of seeing. He had an angular face, with pale skin, and white-blonde hair with small waves that fell slightly in his eyes. His eyes, Ron thought, my God. His eyes were a gorgeous, piercing steel grey, which happened to be fixed on Ron’s face, slightly puzzled.
“Could I order?” The man tilted his head slightly, studying Ron in an almost scrutinizing way. Hermione was blatantly watching the encounter, snickering at Ron’s most likely dumb expression.
Ron scrambled to his feet. The man before him was around Ron’s height, only a few inches taller. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, a pose that may have seemed threatening on someone else but was somehow...relaxed on him. Wrenching his eyes from the beautiful man, he cleared his throat. “Ah, of course, sorry about that. What can I get you?”
“Medium black coffee, no cream or sugar.”
Ron nodded and typed the order into the cash register. “Alright, that’ll be $7.29.”
The man nodded and handed over a ten dollar bill. “Keep the change.”
Ron smiled and turned around to get the coffee, grabbing a cup to pour it into. “May I ask why you’re getting a coffee at two in the morning?”
The man shoved his wallet into his jeans pocket, a rueful smile playing across his lips. “Not by choice, I guarantee you no sane person would ever get a coffee at two in the morning.”
Hermione laughed, clearly remembering Ron expressing similar sentiment earlier, then swiftly pretended to be immersed in her book as Ron shot a glare at her.
“Who would send you on a coffee run so late?”
“A friend who is trying to pass biology in college and is apparently incapable of getting their own coffee.” The man rolled his eyes, clearly frustrated with whoever he was on a coffee mission for. “Besides, don’t you mean so early in the morning?”
Ron’s grin widened at the cheesy joke as he handed the cup of coffee to the man, letting their fingers brush slightly. The man smiled, and gave Ron a small salute before walking out of the café, and Ron’s life, just as quickly as he had come in.
. . .
“And you’re sure you have the tickets.”
“Yes, Ron, chill.” Harry rolled his eyes in frustration, reaching into his cargo pants pocket, and pulling out the three slips of paper that would allow Ron into heaven. “It’s just a stupid football game.”
Ron scoffed. “Just a stupid football game? The Chargers are going to dominate, the Niners don’t stand a chance.”
With that, he snatched one of the tickets out of Harry’s hand, and practically skipped over to one of the long security lines. Ron turned around for a second, walking backwards, and opened his arms, giving Harry a smile, clearly saying “shut up and let me enjoy this.”
Ron turned back around only to run face first into someone’s chest, immediately grabbing on to said person’s arms to steady himself. Looking up, he found himself making eye contact with the insane, beautiful man who apparently liked coffee at two a.m. Ron didn’t even need to break eye contact and look behind him to know Harry was laughing at his expense. Hermione had wasted no time telling Harry about the man who Ron had been blushing non-stop at, while making his coffee.
(Ron refused to even acknowledge the fact he may or may not have looked like a tomato while talking to the gorgeous, art piece of a man).
And maybe, it might have been possible that Ron had spent so much time ranting to Hermione and Harry about the perfectness of the man’s hair, or the gleam in his eyes, or his muscular arms, that Harry wouldn’t have even needed to see a picture of the man before being able to recognize him in public.
“Uh, hi.” The man looked down at Ron, a small smile tugging on the corner of his mouth. Ron gazed up at him, not realizing there was probably a very stupid smile spreading across his face. Harry cleared his throat in a very exaggerated manner, causing Ron to startle, and blush furiously when he glanced down to see his hands still clinging to the other man’s biceps. He jumped back quickly and grinned at the man in front of him.
“Hey, Crazy Coffee guy!”
“Uh, why the nickname?” The man inquired, raising one eyebrow. He shifted into the position Ron remembered from the other night, his arms crossed loosely against his chest.
“You said it yourself, what sane person would want coffee at two a.m?”
“I buy one cup of coffee, that’s not even for me, and am branded for life?”
“Afraid so, my friend.” Ron winked and held his hand out. “Ron Weasley.”
“Draco Malfoy.” Draco smiled slightly, shaking Ron’s hand.
Ron pulled his hand back after maybe lingering a little longer than necessary. He felt a tap on his shoulder, and turned to see Harry with an annoying, knowing smirk on his face.
His friend gestured behind Draco’s back, where the line had shrunk considerably. Ron cursed under his breath and shooed Harry and Draco forward. “I will not be late for kick off!”
Draco laughed. “You are aware the game doesn’t start for another thirty minutes?”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Yeah. But unfortunately, some lunatics don’t understand it won’t take us fifteen minutes to find our seats.”
Ron shrugged at Harry’s glare, crossing his arms in front of his chest, and turning away from him.
Eventually, they made it through security, Ron buzzing with excitement. Harry split up with them, promising Ron he would meet him at their seats with some form of food. Ron gave Harry some cash to pay for his share of food, and watched as Harry sauntered away, presumably towards one of the hot dog stations. Turning to Draco, Ron was ready to propose they go to their seats when he remembered they had come separately and wouldn’t have seats next to each other.
Ron opened his mouth to say something, anything, when Draco cut him off. “Do you want to exchange numbers?”
Ron grinned, and nodded, probably a little too enthusiastically. He grabbed his phone out of his pocket, and handed it to Draco so he could put his number in.
“Okay. Bye.” Ron, awkward as ever, gave a little wave, and turned around to walk in the direction he was about ninety percent sure his seat was. He was stopped by a hand on his wrist, spinning him around.
Draco’s lips pressed against his in a chaste, but sweet kiss, leaving Ron dazed and just...happy.
“Call me?” Draco smiled, before pecking Ron on the cheek, and walking away gracefully.
Ron smiled. He could fall in love with this weirdo who went on coffee runs for friends at two a.m. There was no way in hell Ron wasn’t going to call him.