Work Text:
"A Matcha Americano with skimmed milk steamed to precisely 98°F, a splash of 2% milk, three ice cubes made from oat milk, and a shot of decaf espresso, served in a cup lined with salt, much appreciated if you can give it to me quickly."
The man said each word in perfect diction, not even looking up at the counter. His hair was perfectly coiffed, his suit a dark, dark navy and his skin was rather pale.
"Is that doable?" He looked up, a little bit irritated, his left eyebrow raised as though he was declaring a challenge
"Perfectly well, Sir. We're a bit rushed, so I'll have it for you in about five." Harry replied, not wanting to be outdone by the smug man - who no doubt enjoyed torturing baristas - "May I have a name?"
"Tom."
Harry huffed out some laughter, deciding against telling him that at least seven Toms were present in the coffee shop.
He ran towards the counter, struggling to pull on his plastic gloves as though they had conspired against him. “Alright, Mr. Tom, thanks for the challenge,” he muttered under his breath, grabbing the order slip.
Without missing a beat, he slammed the skimmed milk jug into the steamer, eyes darting to the thermometer as it crept to exactly 98°F. He spun around, yanked oat milk from the fridge, and splashed it into the ice cube tray before shoving it into the flash freezer. Decaf espresso shot? Pulled, stirred counterclockwise—because apparently, clockwise wasn’t good enough. Matcha powder? Whisked into hot water with the finesse of a caffeine-fueled conductor.
He poured a splash of 2% milk into the salt-lined cup, followed by the espresso, matcha mix, and the half-solid oat milk ice cubes. Five minutes flat, and Harry held the cup like it was a trophy before rushing to the timer on his counter.
"four minutes, forty-seven seconds..." He muttered to himself, before grabbing a marker and scrawling out 'TOM' onto the cup.
"Mr. Tom! You're drink is ready! Collect it at counter three!"
The man reappeared, looking a little bit shocked as he was trampled by the seven other Mr Toms crowding counter three.
Harry craned his neck over the stampede and saw a silhouette rising above a head taller than most of the other people.
"A Matcha Americano with skimmed milk steamed to precisely 98°F, a splash of 2% milk, three ice cubes made from oat milk, and a shot of decaf espresso, served in a cup lined with salt, for Mr. Tom!"
The crowd cleared out, and the man stepped forward, adjusting his tie with a cough. He took the cup from Harry. He took a sip and his eyebrows raised a precise amount of surprise.
"Riddle, for future reference. Tom Riddle."
Harry grinned, "Noted, Mr. Tom Riddle."
The man left the shop.
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"A double ristretto poured over exactly three ice cubes, oat milk foam steamed and chilled, a splash of soy milk, caramel swirled at the bottom of the cup, and finished with an even dusting of cinnamon, served in a large cup, much appreciated if you can make it quickly."
"Do you have a preference for near-impossible drinks, Mr. Riddle?"
"I rather suppose so."
"Might you have a preference for baristas who go about making such near-impossible drinks, Mr. Riddle?"
"I might," He replied, a minuscule tug at the corner of his mouth.
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"A triple shot iced espresso with almond milk foam steamed to exactly 132°F, a splash of coconut syrup, and precisely five ice cubes made from cashew milk, served in a pre-chilled mason jar, much appreciated if you can make it quickly."
"Pre-chilled mason jar? That's a new one, Riddle. It'll add an extra minute to the time, of course."
"What a shattering loss. I'm simply devastated. The world is ending"
Tom heard Harry laughing as he made the drink.
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"A decaf macchiato with soy milk steamed to 145°F, a dash of vanilla bean paste, a swirl of caramel at the bottom, and a sprinkle of pink Himalayan salt on top, served in a tiny glass, much-"
"Appreciated it if you can make it quickly? Careful, Riddle or people might think I work here only for your... appreciation." A sly look was on Harry's face.
"Who says you don't?"
"My boss, for one."
"I could buy him out for you."
Harry gave him a once-over.
"Sure you could, Riddle. Sure you could."
Tom felt slightly offended, but also intrigued.