Work Text:
“Hey, new hire! Right this way.”
It’s your first day working at The Sulaco, a somewhat run-down, but still popular, coffee shop in town. You need a bit of extra cash, and you saw the ‘Hiring now’ sign in the window, and, well, that was it. The interview process didn’t consist of much more than asking when you could start. Now Hudson, an enthusiastic employee, is showing you around.
“Lemme introduce you to Bishop, he’s one of the shift leaders here. Guy’s a latte artiste, he practically bleeds milk.”
Hudson corrals you into the back room, keeping up a steady flow of conversation – to which you need to contribute nothing – all the while.
“Hey, Bishop! The new hire’s here,” he yells into the room, before ducking out.
“Hello,” says someone who must be Bishop.
Someone who has big, kind eyes and auburn hair and a quiet, almost shy smile.
“Hey,” you say, when your mouth finally starts working, “So, you’re the coffee guy?”
“I prefer the term ‘barista’ myself,” Bishop says.
“Oh,” you say, “Of course.”
Bishop rummages in a locker before producing a navy blue apron.
“I think this should be your size.”
You loop it over your head and fumble with the apron strings. You were already nervous about your first day before you saw the cute barista.
“Here,” Bishop says, gently turning you around by the shoulders to do your apron up for you, and that only makes you even more flustered.
“Thank you,” you say.
You turn back around to face him, hoping you’re not blushing.
“Hudson says you don’t have any experience with commercial coffee machines?” Bishop asks.
“I don’t,” you admit, “But I have transferable skills. I’ve worked in –”
Bishop chuckles.
“It’s alright, you’ve got the job. I’ll give you a rundown on how our machine works.”
“Oh. Great.”
“I won’t start you on anything too complicated. Perhaps just the milk frother, for this morning.”
“Sure. Great,” you say, “I’ve always wanted to know how to… froth milk.”
You stop talking, because, wow. You need to stop talking.
“You good, new hire?” Hudson suddenly says, making you jump.
He’s leaning against the doorway, grinning around his chewing gum.
“Yeah,” you say, “Bishop’s going to show me how the milk frother works.”
Hudson raises his eyebrows.
“I bet he is.”
Frothing milk turns out to be a surprisingly suggestive task. You can’t meet Bishop’s eyes when you clean the nozzle.
It’s a good first day.
Working at The Sulaco has its perks. Flexible hours, as many free Americanos as you like, and an excellent view of Bishop, sleeves rolled up as he expertly pours his latest order. (You tend not to pay attention to what you’re doing when you’re ogling him. You estimate that Bishop’s forearms are the cause of ninety percent of your burns. Totally worth it.)
Bishop, for his part, is a consummate professional. As a shift leader, he’s technically your line manager when you’re both on duty. The shift leaders have a few more responsibilities than the regular staff – things like taking deliveries and counting your takings at the end of the day – so one of them has to be on shift at all times. But Apone is the shop manager and everyone’s boss, and the rest of the crew just treat one another like colleagues and rarely pull rank.
Bishop has your number, but he only ever texts you about your next shift. He insists you run your hand under the cold tap whenever he hears you swearing about another scald from the hot water. He makes a little small talk – enough for you to proclaim yourself single, but not enough to learn much about him. Of course, everything you do learn only makes him dreamier. Apparently, Bishop likes Star Trek, reads classic literature, sketches animals, and is studying a Biomedicine degree as a mature student. Smart and sexy? It’s impossible not to daydream about doing unmentionable things to him in the stock room.
If Bishop’s noticed your giant crush on him, he doesn’t mention it. Not even when you just happen to be getting something from your locker at the exact time when he’s changing out of his shirt at the end of his shift. You don’t mind too much. Sure, you’d love to froth his milk, so to speak, but you’re content to admire him from afar. Really.
And then, after a few months, things start to change.
It starts when you traipse into The Sulaco the morning after your best friend’s birthday party. You forgot you had a shift until you woke up to a text from Bishop reminding you. You’re deeply hungover, and the screech of the bean grinder isn’t helping your pounding headache.
“Wow, you look like shit,” Hudson says.
“Alright?” Bishop asks, a lot more kindly.
You smile sheepishly.
“Kind of had a big one last night.”
“No shit,” Hudson says.
“I slept for…” You look up at the wall clock, “Fuck, three hours.”
You think about your eight-hour shift, and you want to cry.
“Right,” Bishop says, and wheels you backwards into a stool, “Sit there.”
For a moment you wonder if he’s going to tell you off, which would normally be a source of breathless excitement, but you don’t think you can manage in your hungover state. But he just brings you a glass of water and, once you’ve drunk the whole thing, a black coffee and a blueberry muffin.
You take one bite and immediately moan, “Fuck me, Bishop.”
The corner of his mouth quirks in amusement.
“Not in front of the customers,” he says.
You nearly choke.
Before you know it, your ill-advised workplace crush has become a possibly even more ill-advised workplace flirtation.
The next time you come into work, there’s a latte waiting for you on the counter, with your name written on the foam.
“I’m practicing,” Bishop says.
After that, he presents you with something new each shift, each more intricately crafted than the next: a wreath of flowers, a cat that looks like it’s taking a bath in the coffee, even a portrait of your face. Whatever it is, it always makes you smile. You wonder if you’re being wooed.
Bishop ties your apron for you in the mornings, the way he did on your first day. It takes ten seconds, but it’s ten seconds where you can talk. Usually you just say thank you for the coffee, and he asks how you are. Before you get to The Sulaco, you think about what you’ll say in that moment – a joke, or something you want to ask him. Sometimes you think you should ask him out. But there’s never enough time. And even though things have grown between you, you’re still not sure where you stand. If Bishop was interested, wouldn’t he have made a move by now? Then again, maybe he’s thinking the same thing about you.
It might be easier if you ever got Bishop alone. With at least four of you on shift and dozens of customers besides, those moments are few and fleeting. If you could ever be alone for longer, if you could ever talk… maybe something might finally happen between you.
And then, one Sunday, after you’ve been working at The Sulaco for half a year, it finally happens. Only Bishop, Hicks and you are on: Frost called in sick, and you couldn’t find someone to cover him. Things are fairly quiet in the day anyway, but by four o’clock, Hicks is nervously checking the clock.
“Got somewhere to be?” you ask.
“Something like that,” he admits.
You grin.
“A date?”
Hicks shrugs.
“Who is she?” you demand, “Can we meet her?”
Hicks throws a tea towel at you. You only laugh.
“Listen, if you need to go, Bishop and I can close,” you say.
You turn to Bishop, who’s cleaning out the coffee machine.
“Right, Bishop?” you say.
Bishop pauses for a moment and looks at you, and that’s when it hits you: you’re going to be alone with him. You’re going to be alone in the café together for the first time.
“Right,” he says.
“Thank you,” Hicks sighs, grabs his bag from the back room, and vaults over the counter to head out the door.
“Good luck!” you call after him.
“You too,” he says knowingly.
The bell tinkles as he leaves, and then it’s suddenly very quiet. You busy yourself with wiping down tables and stacking chairs, trying to steady your breathing and stop your hands from shaking. You finish up and head to the back room. Bishop’s already in there, unbuttoning his shirt.
“Don’t worry,” he says, looking up at you, “I wasn’t going to take it off before you got here.”
You laugh, biting your lip and no doubt blushing furiously. So Bishop has noticed you looking.
“That’s… um. Shit, I’m sorry.”
“Please don’t be,” Bishop says, and he says it so earnestly, and he looks at you so intently, that you can’t help but go to him, you can’t help but put your hands on his shoulders and cautiously lean in for a kiss.
Bishop’s eyes flutter shut and his hands find your waist and tug you closer, and you gasp a little, and this, this is what you’ve been waiting for. Your heart’s pounding so hard against your ribcage it hurts, and Bishop’s fingers are digging into your back, and his lips are warm and soft against yours – until he pulls away.
“I’m sorry,” he says, “I can’t.”
You stare at him, breathless.
“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Bishop says, “But technically speaking I am your line manager, and that means… certain things.”
“I have to ask you to process refunds?” you say.
“I have a certain power over you.”
You raise your eyebrows.
“I bet you’d like to think so.”
“This could be… inappropriate.”
“Promises, promises,” you say, sliding your hands down to his chest.
Bishop gently puts his hands over yours.
“And it could make things awkward in the future.”
“For the others?” you say, “We don’t have to tell anyone.”
“For the others, and for us. I don’t know about you, but I’ve never worked with anyone I once slept with.”
“Once?” you repeat.
“Well… yes, I assumed.”
You blink. You weren’t expecting this. The way things have been between you, the kind of man you thought Bishop was – you thought this was the start of something.
“Oh,” you say, “Is that all you want? A one time thing?”
“Of course not,” Bishop says, “But I didn’t think you’d want more.”
You laugh shallowly.
“Are you serious? Bishop, I’m crazy about you.”
Bishop looks genuinely surprised.
“You are?” he says.
“Yes! You are kind and smart and your forearms are possibly the best thing that have ever happened to me. Yes, I would love for you to pick me up and do me on the counter, but I would also love to get to know you better. Maybe go on a date –”
You never get to finish your sentence because right then Bishop kisses you, hard, and it’s much, much more important to kiss him back than to do anything else.
“Is that a no to the date?” you ask, once you eventually break apart.
“Oh, it’s a yes,” Bishop says, somehow picking you up with ease, “There’s just something we have to do first.”
“Who the fuck closed last night?” Hudson loudly complains the next morning.
There’s a distant crash, which sounds suspiciously like someone tripping over an upturned chair. You blearily open your eyes. You’re still in The Sulaco, only you’re wearing considerably less than usual. As much as you intended to take Bishop home last night, events overtook you and, well, you weren’t in much of a fit state to go anywhere. You roll over from your spot on the squishy couch in the back room, but Bishop’s not there anymore.
“Good morning, Hudson,” you hear him saying from out the front, “Are you going to the back room? You might want to wait a minute, there’s something I have to –”
You’re scrambling to cover yourself with an apron when Hudson clatters into the back room. His eyes go wide, and then he claps a hand over them.
“What are you doing here?” he cries.
“I… work here?” you try, shimmying into your work shirt.
“Without any clothes on?”
Bishop appears at that moment, with two cups of coffee and an apologetic expression.
“Ah,” he says, a little sheepishly.
Hudson uncovers his eyes and looks from you to Bishop, then back again.
“Seriously, you guys? This is a food preparation zone.”
“We’ll clean,” Bishop says.
Hudson disappears out front, muttering something under his breath about there not being enough bleach in the world.
“We?” you say, “I’m not scheduled for today.”
“Well, management may occasionally call you in without notice, should the need arise,” Bishop says, passing you your coffee.
You take it gratefully.
“Well, you be sure to tell me when your need arises.”
Bishop smiles.
“Perhaps tomorrow night? There’s a restaurant I’ve been wanting to take you to.”
“How long for?” you ask.
“Only about six months,” Bishop says.
He kisses you lightly before going into the front to help Hudson with the mess. You smile to yourself. When you take a sip of your coffee, you see the foam is in the shape of a perfect heart.