Work Text:
The chime of a bell signals his departure as Shouto closes the door of the flower shop behind him. The sweet sound further agitates his sullen mood.
It’s not that he’s not happy for his brother. He is, immensely so.
It had been tough… fighting Touya, convincing him that there was still good left - in him, the world, his father. But the happiness of others, no matter how deserved, feels like a painful jab at his own loneliness.
He’d been… distraught, to say the least, when Momo broke up with him. It had not made any sense. If she wanted to grow, why couldn’t she do that by his side? Did she think he was done growing? That he would never be anything else than what he was now?
A shiver runs down his back at the thought. He’s barely reached his twenties and feels like he’s just gotten used to being a Pro Hero full-time, this cannot be his peak.
Midoriya tells him to get back to dating.
The advice feels shallow coming from someone who hasn’t looked at anyone like that in years, if ever. But Midoriya’s advice has always been sound, even when he’s not capable of following it himself.
Something red catches his eye. He turns, only to see the colorful floral decoration of the coffee shop next door. No doubt it’s one of Touya’s creations, dark red and white petals hugged by leaves so dark they could almost be black.
A hot drink sounds favorable, soothing to his upset mind. But everyone inside knows Touya, and therefore him. He’s not in the mood to explain himself, answer questions about his work, or worse, the growth of Touya’s child.
.
Just a few houses down he spies another coffee shop. The glass doors glint in the sun, the white font on the door pristine and new.
Curious, he pulls the door open and steps inside. He’s the only guest. The shop interior is a lot of dark wood and little green plants on every table and hanging on the walls are abstract pictures that remind him of marble.
“Welcome!” A friendly voice calls out from the front.
“Hello.” He steps closer to find a barista, the giant coffee machine hiding most of her from his view.
“What can I get you?”
“I… uh, I don’t drink coffee.”
“Oh! That’s no problem. We also have different teas or hot cocoa. Do you like it sweet or not?” You step out from behind the machine, the warmth in your eyes catching him by surprise.
“What… what did you ask?” He asks awkwardly, tries to focus on your words and not your voice.
“What do you normally drink? At home, I mean.”
“My mother likes to make tea.”
You blink.
“And what do you like to drink? When you’re alone, I mean?”
“I drink water for hydration.”
“Okay.” You nod as if you understand. He doubts it. He doesn’t even understand it himself.
“Take a seat. I will introduce you to the world of drinks.”
“How?”
“Well, if you don’t know what you like, you probably haven’t tried it yet. The thing you really like. So I’ll show you a few things you might not know. Take a seat, take a seat.”
You usher him to a bar chair. From here he can see you work the coffee machine.
“What are you doing?” He asks, curious.
“Right now I’m foaming milk because that’s important. Do you like citrus fruit? No? Well, how about peppermint or other candy?”
“I don’t mind candy.”
“You’re a tough customer, but I like that.” You smile at him before turning back. “Tell you what, I’ll make you three hot drinks and three cold drinks and you can try which one you like best, that’s alright with you?”
“You have cold drinks too?”
“Of course. Now, while I work, why don’t you tell me a few things about yourself? What’s your name?”
x
You should have known that opening a coffee shop was a lot more work than just creating drinks. You couldn’t wait for the day you’d have enough customers to warrant hiring another barista, someone who enjoyed small talk and dealing with other people while you stayed in the back and created something new and exciting.
Even now, pouring over your recipe book, you could feel the tingle of a new idea.
How about a Matcha Latte with Orange Extract? Or Hot Cocoa with peppermint milk? Or a Cold brew with Lavender infusion? No, that probably wouldn’t taste that good.
The door opens and you raise your head like you’ve been taught to do. Right now, a customer is the last thing you want, you don’t like distractions during your creative process.
The newcomer is a young man, his hair a curious mix of white and red. Even his eyes are heterochromatic, dark grey on one side, bright turquoise on the other. He’s pretty, in the kind of way that makes your fingers itch and your brain fuzz with the need to create.
.
“What can I get you?”
“I… uh, I don’t drink coffee.” He manages to get out. There’s something like a shadow flittering over his face. He seems upset, but you’ve never been good at reading people. You prefer recipes over living things. But hey, it’s a challenge if you’ve ever got one.
“Oh! That’s no problem. We also have different teas or hot cocoa. Do you like it sweet or not?” You step out from behind the machine to get a better look at him. And to be more visible - your mother’s voice in your head. Don’t hide behind the machinery.
“What… what did you ask?” He asks, voice quivering a little as his eyes move around, avoiding eye contact. Oh, you know that feeling.
“What do you normally drink? At home, I mean.”
“My mother likes to make tea.”
You blink. That’s a not-answer if you’ve ever heard one. Does he even know what he likes? Or just what others prefer?
“And what do you like to drink? When you’re alone, I mean?”
“I drink water for hydration.”
“Okay.” Yeah, he definitely has no idea what he likes. Well, you can give him some options at least.
“Take a seat. I will introduce you to the world of drinks.”
“How?”
“Well, if you don’t know what you like, you probably haven’t tried it yet. The thing you really like. So I’ll show you a few things you might not know. Take a seat, take a seat.”
You usher him to a bar chair, your mind already reeling with possibilities. How many drinks to you have to make to introduce him properly? One coffee drink, for sure. With milk or without? Do you make a Matcha Latte or a proper green tea? Hot cocoa or a Frappé?
“What’s your name?”
“Shouto Todoroki. Yours?”
“Y/N. Like the shop.”
“So this is your shop?”
“Unfortunately. My mother bought it under my name because she thinks it will get me to socialize if I have customers to take care of.”
“You don’t like it?”
You shrug, press the button, and wait for the beans to grind before answering.
“I love creating new recipes. The customers are just a byproduct. Most drink the same thing over and over, that gets kinda boring. What do you do for work?”
“I’m a hero.”
“Oh, really? What do you prefer in your job? The fights or interacting with people you safe?”
“Uh…” He halts, blinks in a way that reminds you of a cat. Cute. “I don’t like fighting that much, but it’s easier. I guess.”
“I get that. Here.” You put three beverages in front of him. “These are my three hot choices. I didn’t want to go too bitter on the coffee, so I made you a cappuccino with a twist. This one’s a Matcha Latte with an Orange Infusion and Hot Cocoa with peppermint. Try them.”
Gingerly, he picks up the Hot Cocoa first. This is the one you improvised and you’re not sure if it even works. The first sip leaves a mustache of milky white foam on his upper lip that begs to be kissed away. You bite your lip, surprised by your own attraction. Yeah, he’s pretty, so what?
“This is nice.” He hums low in the back of his throat. He takes another sip, brows scrunching together as he’s thinking hard.
“What does it remind you of?”
“When I was little, Fuyumi gave me peppermint candy once. We had to hide it from my parents, so we dropped it into our cups of hot cocoa and spooned them out when they were not looking.”
“That’s a nice memory.”
He smiles and the shadow lifts from his face.
“Yeah.”
Shouto’s nose wrinkles at the taste of Matcha. You can already tell he doesn’t like it.
“Is it the orange or the matcha?”
“Both.”
“Sorry.” You pull the cup from him and move to dunk it into the sink.
“No, don’t waste it.” He moves as if to stop you, yet is too far away to even reach you.
“I won’t make you drink something you don’t like.”
“But it would be a waste.”
“Would you…” You look down at the drink, heart beating thunderously all of a sudden. “Mind, if I drank the rest?”
He blinks. “Why would I? I’m not sick, so…”
“It would be an indirect kiss, of sorts.”
The realization dawns slowly, then all at once. A pink blush blooms high on his cheeks and he grabs his hot cocoa to hide behind. You can barely make out the way he nods his head.
When you take a sip of the Matcha, you make sure not to touch the rim where his lips had been. It still feels like a kiss and the implication of it buzzes through your veins.
“Don’t let the coffee get cold.” You remind him softly and he picks up the cup.
You can tell he likes it.
His eyes are wide when he lowers the cup. He swallows slowly as if trying to keep the drink in his mouth for as long as possible. His mustache is even more pronounced now, a white cloud of foam curling just above his pink lips.
“What?” He says, before taking another sip, cradling the cup in his hands.
“Blackberry.” You say, proudly. “Just a few drops. Most people think that it would mess up the flavors but you have to pick the right bean for it. It’s sweet, yet subtle, like the calmest form of love.”
Shouto falls quiet as he drinks and you let him. There are moments when words are nothing but a distraction and this is one of them.
He still looks stunned when his drink is empty and you hand him a napkin to wipe the mustache from his face.
“Do you wanna try the cold drinks too?” You ask, as quietly as you can, adamant that you don’t disturb his reverie.
“I’m…” His phone beeps, effectively pulling him from whatever distant star he’d been on. He looks down at the display and frowns.
“I have to go.” He slips from his chair. “What do I owe you?”
“It’s on the house.”
“I insist-”
“As do I. Go on, pretty boy.” You dare to say, all the while cringing at the implications. “See you around.”
He moves after a heartbeat of hesitation.
You take his cups to the sink, disappointment pooling in your belly.
When you hear the door, you allow yourself to feel pity for yourself.
He’d been cute. But not for you. Never for you.
Quick footsteps pull you up and around.
Shouto’s standing in front of the counter, strangely breathless for such a short distance.
“Will you go on a date with me?”
“Yes?” It sounds more like a question.
“Great.” His lips do a funny thing, something in between a smile and an insecure frown. “When can I pick you up?”
You pull one of the take-out menus from the counter and hand it to him.
“I’m free every night, I just need half an hour to close up.” Feeling strangely confident you add: “My phone number is on there as well.”
Shouto’s phone beeps again and he flinches.
“I really have to go.” He says and to your utter amusement, he’s pouting now. It’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen, but you refuse to call him out on that.
“Well, go on. I’ll see you around, pretty boy.”
.
When he leaves, you feel light. Like a hot air balloon that’s ready to take flight.
You don’t know yet that he will call the same day, and show up at your doorstep the same evening, smelling of smoke.
But, you have a hunch…