Chapter Text
Izumi walks around the cafe, biting her lip as she looks for the shirt her model said he would be wearing.
Given that almost everyone is wearing back in varying styles, it's less useful than she would have hoped as a guide.
"Hey, miss." An arm waves at her and she stops. It's a mistake, she realises immediately, but that doesn't help her now. "I need a refill." The man raises his mug, clearly expecting her to take it. "A six shot venti."
A venti?
This isn't a Starbucks!
Still, she takes the cup anyway and heads for the counter.
This shift is constantly understaffed - something that always happens during term time when most of the university students who have part-time jobs here are busy with classes - and it's not as if she doesn't know how to work the espresso machine.
"Please allow me, Izumi-san." Long fingers swoop in to scoop the mug out of her hand, making her blink at its sudden disappearance. "The cafe is the responsibility of my family."
"But it's not your responsibility!" She chases him past the pastry case, but doesn't manage to snatch the cup back. "You don't work as a barista anymore, Itachi-san!"
"I'm attempting to become a barrister, is that close enough?" He flashes her a quick smile, small and contained but it’s there.
"Studying for the bar has nothing to do with making coffee!" She makes one last attempt to stop him, but he dodges around her to get to the machine. "Itachi-san!"
"Itachi?" Mikoto-sama sticks her head out of the kitchen just in time, and she makes an appalled face to see Itachi-san setting up six shots. "Itachi! No!"
"If the customer asks for it..." he raises his eyebrows at his mother, but stops for long enough for her to nudge him back over to the customer's side of the counter.
"We still do not give them a heart attack in a cup!" Mikoto-sama rolls her eyes and pours in only four shots instead of the requested six. "Now, your usual?"
"Yes, please." He fishes a metal travel cup out of his laptop bag, and Izumi winces to see how big it is. Itachi-san really ought to drink more water instead of coffee, that much caffeine would keep anyone awake far past their bedtime. "Thank you, okaasan."
"Of course!" Mikoto-sama makes short work of filling it - four shots, steamed milk, and an obscene amount of sugar, not as bad as Izumi feared - and hands it back. "Have a good session, and make sure you bring Izumi-chan home for dinner afterwards!"
Session.
Her.
Oh no.
Izumi rapidly connects the dots, knowing everyone can see the horror on her face as she notices what Itachi-san is wearing.
A plain black shirt.
He's her model.
Her nude model.
Oh gods.
"As you wish, okaasan." Itachi-san does her the kindness of ignoring her sudden panic, and takes a sip of his coffee instead. "I'm in your hands, Izumi-san."
All the ways in which she could have Itachi-san naked and in her hands flash through her mind, and Izumi shakes her head violently to dislodge the thoughts from her brain.
"Uh, my studio is... this way." She turns and trots out of the cafe as fast as her legs will carry her, hoping she doesn't look like she's fleeing.
From the sound of the steps that follow her, it's too late to run anyway.