Chapter Text
The disgustingly rude chime of the coffee shop bell startles Hernando from his sleep. He rubs his eyes groggily and glances at the little digital clock he keeps at the counter. It reads 2AM and Hernando groans, filled with a sudden hatred for his job. Who would even want a coffee at 2AM during summer break in a college town?
Summer break is supposed to be a nice little time where he earns money by sleeping at the counter from 10PM to 6AM. Not one where people disturb his slumber at 2AM.
He still gets paid for the job though, and that means he will have to completely wake up and give the person whatever he wants.
Suppressing yet another groan, he puts on his glasses and looks up. There is a ridiculously muscled man standing awkwardly by the door, with his arms crossed over his chest. A baseball cap hides most of his face.
Hernando temporarily toys with the idea that the man is a homicidal manic of some sort who has come to kill him. But then professionalism takes over and he stands up.
The shop’s traditional welcome greeting has been branded onto his mind, and he can recite it even while asleep, thank you very much.
“Hello and welcome to the Curiosity Café, the only one that’s never astray. Here for all your coffee needs, whenever, whatever. How can I help you?” He mumbles.
The person walks closer, and removes the baseball cap from his head. There is something very familiar about the face, but Hernando cannot put a finger on it. Oh well, he could probably a student who has come to the coffee shop before.
“Hi,” the person replies.
It’s is a gorgeous ringing sound, the kind that belongs to Casanovas of the world, and Hernando is surprised he notices that in his dazed state. It makes him miss half of the person’s coffee order, though.
“-ed Caramel Latte with extra cream on top. In the largest size you have. Thanks.”
He is too self-conscious to ask again, so he just nods.
“Alright, sir. It’ll take me a while. Gotta get the machine started up.”
The person smiles. “It’s okay. I have all the time in the world. And for all it’s worth, I am very sorry for waking you up. I had no other choice; I needed a place to disappear to for a while. Escape the paps, you know? And this coffee shop happened to be in the perfect location.”
That’s when it hits Hernando. Of-fucking-course.
The person standing in his café is Lito Rodriguez.
Of course, he looked familiar.
He wonders if he’s hallucinating his favorite actor in his half-awake state, but then shakes his head. He lives in a college town, anything can happen here. If Lito Rodriguez has come to his coffee shop to get a safe haven, he is going to give him that. Hernando is a decent man. He ignores the urge to ask questions and goes about preparing Lito’s drink.
*
Lito knew going out for a midnight run by himself was a bad idea. The filming location was not exactly a secret, and the paparazzi always found a way to harass him. Assuming that they would somehow leave him alone tonight was a very, very bad idea.
Well, okay, maybe not that bad.
Because, right now, he is sitting on a comfy wooden chair, watching an astonishingly hot barista make his drink. He knows that the barista is annoyed with him, but Lito knows how to be charming. He fully intends to get the guy’s number, or leave him his, before he exits the café.
Lito is lucky that the barista does not recognize him, for that would complicate matters. He takes a good look at the ass clad in tight, but orthodox jeans, and the plaid button down shirt, and suppresses a giggle. Yup, the guy totally looks like a person who would rather watch avant-garde cinema than his trashy romantic pop movies. However, that does not mean that Lito cannot serenade him.
A moment later, a drink is set down in front of Lito.
“Enjoy your drink, sir,” the barista says.
Lito takes a deep breath. It’s time for him to work his charm.
“Thank you, err… Mr.,” he looks up questioningly and puts on his puppy dog eyes, the ones which no one can resist.
“Hernando. Call me Hernando.”
The barista scratches his beard, and Lito smiles internally. Hernando is getting flustered. Success. He mentally fist-bumps himself
“Well, uhm I better get back to my post,” Hernando says softly.
“Yes. Yes, of course,” Lito nods. “Again I am sorry for waking you up. I’ll tip you extra for that.”
“It was no trouble,” Hernando replies with a yawn.
*
Hernando crosses his arms over the counter and lays his head over them. He is so, so fucked. This sort of thing does not happen out side fiction. It is incredibly hard acting normal around the person you’ve had a crush on for the longest time ever. The fact that Lito is extremely polite and charismatic does not help one bit.
He sneaks a glance over at Lito and sees him take a sip of the coffee. His face looks slightly disgusted. Dammit! Hernando got the coffee order wrong, didn’t he? He should not have tried guessing the order. He should have clarified it like a normal person would. Lito is probably going to sue him now. That's what famous people do, right? God, he has screwed things up.
He closes his eyes, and pretends to be asleep. Maybe if Lito thinks he is sleeping, he wouldn’t complain. Maybe.
He starts drifting off, and is woken up by a gentle hand shaking his arm.
“What,” he grumpily mumbles.
“Thank you for the coffee. It was the best I ever had.”
Oh, right. Lito. Wrong coffee order. Shit.
No wait. Did Lito just compliment the coffee?
Hernando rubs his ears, as if that would somehow make him hear different words. Lito is even more amazing that Hernando thought. He would have expected rich actors to be rude about such things.
“You’re welcome.”
He doesn’t have the will or energy to say anything more.
“How much is the cost? Cause I would pay my weight in gold for this glorious coffee.”
Wait, was that flirting? He looks up to see Lito standing with a hand on his hip, and smiling crookedly. Nah, it can't possibly be flirting, Lito is dating Daniela Velasquez, but his mouth goes dry anyway.
“Oh right, the bill. It’s, it’s, wait a minute.”
Hernando shakily stands up and starts walking towards cash register, but Lito grabs his arm and stops him.
“Hey. Hernando. It’s okay. Take this money; it’ll cover the cost. You can enter it in your register in the morning. Have a good night. Hopefully I’ll see you again. Goodbye!”
Lito hands him two ten-dollar bills and walks out.
Hernando hazily looks at the money in his hand.
The second ten-dollar bill isn’t money. It’s a piece of paper with the words ‘Text me’ written on it followed by a string of numbers.
Hernando smiles at it, dopily. He is so, so fucked.