Chapter Text
The closing shift was Dan’s favorite, because no one came into a coffee shop past 3 p.m. He didn’t have to deal with customers, or even coworkers. He could spend all four hours of his shift sitting behind the counter (thank god his boss believed in chairs) and scrolling on his phone. Except for when the one afternoon regular came in.
The shaggy, dark-haired stranger wandered in. “Hey,” he said. He scrunched up his nose. “Could I have…” he trailed off, staring at the menu.
“I know,” Dan said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “The menu’s changed a lot since last week. Take your time.”
The stranger dropped his eyes down to look at Dan, scowling. “Do you get extra tips when you’re mean to the customers?”
Dan shrugged. “I don’t get a lot of tips from straight guys anyway. So I just say whatever I want, really.”
The stranger glared. “Large black coffee. And I’m not straight.”
“Sure,” Dan said. “Are you sure you don’t want any sugar or cream with that?” The other man’s order was always changing, but it always contained enough sugar and caffeine to slightly terrify Dan.
“I’m sure,” the stranger said, stuffing a five dollar bill into the tip jar.
He stayed in the coffee shop until Dan had to close and kicked him out, taking short sips of his black coffee and grimacing at his laptop the entire time.
“Iced mocha,” the other man said before Dan could even make it to the cash register.
Dan raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Box Hair Dye has his order ready this time.”
“Yes,” the man said defensively. “My name is Phil, by the way.”
Dan pointed to his name tag sarcastically. “I’m Dan. What size do you want your iced mocha?”
“Large,” Phil said. “How did you know about the hair dye?”
Dan pointed at Phil’s head. “Eyebrows,” he said, before getting to work on Phil’s mocha.
“Oh,” Phil said. “Yeah. I thought it might be a bit dangerous for me to dye my eyebrows. I’m clumsy.”
Dan nodded. “Wise. A man who knows his limits. I like it.”
“That’s me,” Phil said unenthusiastically.
Dan finished making Phil’s mocha, topping it off with a vaguely artistic swirl of milk foam. “Here you go,” he offered. As he handed Phil his drink, his pinkie brushed against Phil’s index finger, and Phil yelped, jerking his hand back and sending the drink flying.
“Fuck!” Phil hopped away from the cup as it spilled all over his converse.
Dan stared at him. “What the hell is wrong with you? You’re lucky that wasn’t a hot drink.”
“Sorry,” Phil said. His normally pale face was turning pink. “I warned you I’m clumsy.”
Dan looked at Phil in disbelief. “Apparently.”
“Do you have paper towels?” Phil asked.
One of the nice things about the closing shift was there normally weren’t any messes for Dan to clean up. He sighed. “Yeah,” he said. “Just a sec. Let me remake that for you.”
Phil brightened. “Oh, you don’t have to,” he said. “It’s my fault, I’m the one who–”
Dan waved him off. “I’ll remake it,” he said.
After Dan remade Phil’s drink (and placed it on the counter this time, so there couldn’t be any other handoff mistakes), he got out the mop to clean up what was left of the spill.
Phil lurked guiltily in the background. He had wiped his shoes down with paper towels to get them as dry as he could, but they were still damp.
Phil left his shoes to dry on the seat next to him while he worked. He started to reach for his socks, which were wet where the drink had soaked through his canvas shoes, but seeing the expression on Dan’s face, quickly stopped. “Sorry,” he said.
“Good,” Dan said. “The Health Department would like you to keep your socks on, please.”
Phil scrunched his nose. “They’re wet.”
Dan shrugged. “A clumsy man like you should get used to carrying an extra pair around.”
“Can I have a large vanilla latte?” Phil asked. “Iced. With an extra shot of espresso.”
“That’s a lot of caffeine for six at night,” Dan observed.
Phil rolled his eyes. “Shut up. I have a migraine.”
“Having a massive coffee every day probably isn’t helping that,” Dan said.
Phil glared– like, actually glared. “I’ve been getting them ever since I was ten, so I don’t think the coffee is making much of a difference,” he said, and Dan felt bad.
“Do you need ibuprofen or anything?” Dan asked. “We have a bunch of stuff in the medicine cabinet.”
Phil softened a bit. “No, thank you,” he said. “I already took some.”
“Cool,” Dan said. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
Phil ducked his head. “Actually,” he said, “If you could change the music that would be great. The screaming stuff kind of hurts my ears.”
Dan stared at Phil, aghast. “Screaming? You think My Chemical Romance counts as screaming?”
Phil raised his hands defensively. “Singing loudly! Or whatever it is!”
“Fine,” Dan said. “But I hope you know I take my My Chemical Romance very seriously. I wouldn’t do this for just any customer.”
Phil looked down and smiled. “Thanks.”
After making Phil’s latte, Dan switched the music to something quieter, and turned the volume down a bit just to be safe.
Phil didn’t seem to notice, just kept typing away in his own world, which probably meant the new music wasn’t bothering him. Which was good, because Dan would get in trouble for actively driving away customers. That was the only reason.
“I don’t really know what I want,” Phil confessed.
“Well, I wish you luck figuring out what your most authentic self looks like,” Dan said. “I can help you pick a coffee, though.”
Phil laughed, and Dan discovered that he really liked the sound. “Sure. I’ll have whatever you think is best.”
“No problem,” Dan said. “Coming right up.”
Phil’s face lit up when he took his first sip. “What is this?” he asked.
Dan felt his face warm. “Vanilla, chocolate, and caramel. With extra milk foam.”
“I love milk foam,” Phil said.
“I know,” Dan said. “I mean, um. Who doesn’t?”
“Right?” Phil said, his eyes crinkling.
“Yeah,” Dan said.
“Yeah,” Phil repeated. He stood looking at Dan for just long enough to be awkward. “I’ll, um. I’ll just be over there.” He pointed at a table.
“Have fun,” Dan said. “Enjoy your drink.”
“You too,” Phil said automatically. “I mean–”
Dan laughed. “Don’t worry. People say that all the time.”
The next time Phil came into the coffee shop, he wasn’t alone. He was with another man who looked startlingly like Dan, Dan realized, if Dan’s hair was actually straight and fell in a proper swoopy emo fringe instead of being a curly mess.
“Hey!” Phil said. “Can I have the drink you made me last time?” He pouted. “No dairy milk, though. It turns out I’m lactose intolerant. My doctor is not happy with me.”
Dan tried to make a sympathetic noise with his eyes glued on Phil’s companion. “So which milk substitute will that be? We have oat, soy, almond, all the usual.”
Phil tilted his head. “Which one tastes the most milk-y?”
“I’m not sure, actually. They don’t pay me to be good with milk. Just coffee.”
Phil laughed. Dan shot a triumphant glare at the man standing beside him. “What’s your best guess then?”
Dan shrugged. “Maybe soy. A lot of people order soy.”
Phil smiled. “Okay then. I’ll try soy.”
“And for you?” Dan turned to the other man.
He seemed taken aback by the intensity of Dan’s stare. “I’ll have, um. A medium latte?”
While Dan was making their coffee, the more attractive version of Dan poked Phil in the side. “Is this the barista you were talking about earlier?”
Phil turned bright red. “What? No!” He looked between Dan and not-Dan. “I, um. Go to a lot of coffee shops.”
Dan raised an eyebrow. “You’re cheating on me?” he asked.
Phil somehow turned even redder. “No!” he insisted. “I mean– yes, if you mean–” He hid his head behind his arms. “Your coffee is the best! I promise.”
Even with not-Dan there, Dan could feel his mouth breaking into a smile. He turned around to hide it. “Good,” he said.
“Vanilla latte, please,” Phil said. As Dan began wordlessly preparing it, he frowned. “Hot! Large! Soy!” he shouted at Dan’s back.
“Uh huh,” Dan said.
Phil waited at the counter, fidgeting and frowning.
Dan huffed. “I hope your date went well.” He slammed the cup of coffee down onto the counter.
Phil jumped. “Oh– um– it wasn’t a date. But thanks.”
Dan squinted at Phil. “What do you mean, it wasn’t a date?”
Phil sputtered. “Why’d you think it was a date? You think every time I’m spotted in a coffee shop with an attractive guy it’s a date?”
“Oh, so you think he’s attractive?” Dan said.
Phil buried his face in his hands. “Oh my god. That’s not the point. It wasn’t a date. Is that why you’re mad at me?”
Dan stared at the cup of coffee, which he had purposefully burnt the espresso for. “What? I’m not mad at you,” he said, trying to sound convincing.
“It wasn’t a date,” Phil insisted. His voice softened. He sounded embarrassed. “I like someone else,” he said.
“Oh,” Dan said. “Cool. Go ask him out. Or her. Or them. Or whoever. I don’t care,” he said, unconvincingly.
Phil gestured at him. “Come on– don’t make me do this.”
Dan raised an eyebrow. “Do what?”
Phil groaned. “Look, I know, you’re not supposed to hit on your barista. Being nice is your job. I just thought, maybe, I don’t know…” He trailed off.
Dan stared at him. “Oh.”
Phil stared at the floor. “Oh what?”
“Oh, I need to remake your drink,” Dan said.
“What?” Phil asked. “Did you hear any of what I said?”
“Uh, yeah,” Dan said. “Long story. I need to remake your drink. And give you my phone number, probably.”
Phil smiled. “Do I want to know what you did to the coffee?”
Dan snorted. “Honestly, probably nothing you’d notice. Do you know what good espresso tastes like?”
“No,” Phil said.
“You should after all the lovingly crafted espresso drinks I’ve made for you,” Dan said, “But I doubt you can taste anything under all that vanilla syrup. I’m only remaking it in the name of my professional pride.”
Phil picked up the cup and took a sip. “It tastes the same as usual to me.” He took another sip. “Maybe a little bitter. Mostly sweet.”
“Just like me,” Dan said sarcastically.
Phil smiled. “Just like you,” he agreed.