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Can I get your number? ‘Cause I like you a latte.
This coffee’s really hot, but you’re hotter.
I can feel something brewing between us.
Kuroko trudged to the campus coffee shop – a homey little thing that was tucked away behind the Anthropology building – attempting (and failing) to rub the bleariness out of his eyes. Rubbing his arms through his thin jacket, Kuroko shivered slightly against the piercing morning wind. He’d forever rue the day he chose to enroll in an 8:30AM class. In his defense, it had seemed like a good idea at the time.
(He’d found out the hard way that no, Tetsuya, waking up at 7AM really is not much fun at all.)
Oh well, nothing he could do now. The bite of the November morning air wasn’t helping – a sure sign he’d need his coffee to survive his hellish Wednesday schedule. Suppressing another violent yawn, Kuroko pushed open the glass door, barely registering the cheery chime of the bell as he hobbled to the counter.
“Medium coffee with two creams and two sugars, please,” Kuroko mumbled, looking down to leaf through his wallet. As he was tugging out the change, he paused; he had to lift a not-very-free hand to attempt to cover a wide yawn.
There was a low snicker from in front of him. “That was one hefty yawn. Can’t say I don’t agree with the sentiment though,” a deep gravelly voice announced amusedly. Kuroko glanced upwards.
Ah, it’s this guy. This barista (and his wide shit-eating grin that he was sporting currently) was not entirely unfamiliar – after all, he was the one who’d been gracing Kuroko’s orders with terrible coffee-related pick-up lines every time he’d had the (mis)fortune to buy his regular coffee from him. At this point, the barista’s sprawling scrawl had become a pretty regular constant in his life – although, he’d never really attempted to make conversation with Kuroko before. This, at least, was new. Kuroko raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Oh, it’s you again.”
The barista pursed his lips as he rang up Kuroko’s purchase. “Oi, what’s that supposed to mean?” he retorted, affronted, though his crooked grin belied his mirth.
“Nothing,” Kuroko relied peaceably as he watched the barista move to fill his order, flipping the cup up behind his back and catching it with ease. He shot Kuroko a smirk. Kuroko had to resist the urge to roll his eyes, though he did allow his lips to twitch upwards, just a little. “You’re just … memorable, Aomine-kun.”
The barista – Aomine – seemed to perk up at that. “Hey, you know my name!”
“It’s on your name tag.”
“Huh?” Aomine glanced down at the nameplate in question, as if surprised, then immediately looked disappointed. He jutted his lip out in an admirable imitation of a pout that really did not look like it belonged on the face of a decently built man who stood a good head over Kuroko. “Lame,” he lamented as he shook the sugar packets into the steaming cup. “Hey, it’s not fair that you know my name and I don’t know yours.”
“Kuroko Tetsuya,” Kuroko offered easily, reaching out to grab the cup as Aomine slid it over on the counter. He inspected the cup, before lifting one brow. “What, no pick-up line today?”
“What, disappointed?” Aomine teased. “Give it here –” The barista tugged the cup out of Kuroko’s grip, reaching up to grab his pen where it rested above his ear. He scrawled something out on the paper before offering it back again, a wide grin plastered on his face. “See you Tetsu!” he called, waving as he disappeared into the back.
When Kuroko stepped back out into the cold, tugging his scarf tighter around his neck, he turned the cup curiously. He snorted loudly. Of all the pick-up lines so far, this easily took the title of being the absolute worst of the lot so far.
(Although, he thought as he began making his way to class, if he was going to be honest to himself, Aomine’s pick-up lines did make his classes more bearable, even if by just a little.)
Now that you know my name, will you be Ao-MINE?