James Potter liked coffee. Or at least, that was the official reason he gave himself for walking into Lupin’s Brews every morning at exactly 7:45 AM, five minutes before his shift started at the marketing firm three blocks down. It was a convenient excuse, one that allowed him to ignore the fact that every other coffee shop in the area opened earlier, had shorter lines, and didn’t involve him making a complete fool of himself in front of a very attractive, very exasperated barista.

That barista, of course, being Remus Lupin.

Remus, who owned the shop. Remus, who somehow always looked tired but still managed to be unfairly handsome, with soft brown curls falling into his eyes and the kind of quiet, sharp wit that James had no business finding so irresistible.

James had spent the last three weeks walking into this coffee shop, ordering the same thing—one large black coffee with an extra shot of espresso—and making increasingly disastrous attempts at flirting. So far, he had been met with amused smirks, unimpressed stares, and, on one particularly embarrassing occasion, a raised eyebrow that made James reconsider every decision he’d ever made.

Yet, here he was again.

The bell above the door chimed as he entered, and James scanned the counter, feeling a ridiculous wave of satisfaction at the sight of Remus behind it, sleeves rolled up, fingers wrapped around a steaming mug. He looked up, catching James’ gaze with that familiar mixture of tired patience and mild suffering.

“Potter,” Remus greeted, setting the mug down. “I was starting to think you wouldn’t show.”

James grinned, stepping up to the counter. “What, miss my morning interrogation from my favorite barista? Never.”

Remus snorted. “Interrogation implies I ask you more than one question. Which, for the record, is always the same one: are you ever going to order something else?”

James placed both hands on the counter, leaning forward slightly. “And miss the chance to hear you insult my lack of originality? Never.”

Remus shook his head but didn’t hide the slight twitch of his lips. “One large black coffee, extra shot of espresso. Coming right up.”

James watched as he moved behind the espresso machine, pretending he wasn’t utterly transfixed by the way Remus worked. He was efficient but unhurried, like he’d done this a thousand times but still cared about every single cup. It was unfair, really, how attractive someone could look doing something so mundane.

“You know,” James said, breaking the silence, “I did consider ordering something different today.”

Remus glanced at him, eyebrow raised. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Was thinking of trying one of those—what do you call them—macchiatos?”

Remus huffed a quiet laugh. “Potter, I think if you ordered anything with even a trace of milk, your entire personality would collapse.”

James gasped, hand over his heart. “You wound me, Lupin.”

Remus slid the finished drink across the counter. “You’ll survive.”

James accepted the coffee, fingers brushing briefly against Remus’ as he did. He lingered just long enough for it to be noticeable, but not long enough to get called out for it.

“You know,” he said, taking a sip, “I don’t just come here for the coffee.”

Remus didn’t react right away. Instead, he wiped his hands on a nearby towel, leaned against the counter, and gave James a look that was just shy of scrutinizing. “Yeah?”

James swallowed. “Yeah.”

Remus tilted his head slightly. “So why do you come here?”

James opened his mouth. Then closed it. He could come up with a dozen flirty, ridiculous responses, but none of them felt right. He thought about the real reason—the way Remus always seemed to be there, steady and unshaken, in a way that James found unexpectedly grounding. How their morning routine had become his favorite part of the day. How he’d started waking up excited, just because he knew he’d get to see Remus before the day really began.

Instead of saying any of that, James went with, “Your company is… tolerable.”

Remus stared at him for a long moment, then exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Merlin, you’re insufferable.”

James grinned. “And yet, here we are.”

Remus rolled his eyes but didn’t look away. “Yeah,” he said, softer this time. “Here we are.”

It wasn’t much. But it was something. And for now, that was enough.

———

James should have been at work ten minutes ago.

Instead, he was still standing at the counter, pretending to sip his coffee while Remus wiped down the espresso machine. If James were a more self-aware man, he’d acknowledge how ridiculous this was—lingering in a coffee shop just to extend a conversation that, by all rights, should have ended five minutes ago.

But James Potter was nothing if not persistent.

“So, Remus,” James said, tapping his fingers against the cup. “What time does the handsome owner of this fine establishment finish work?”

Remus didn’t even look up. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I would, actually.”

Remus finally glanced at him, unimpressed. “And why, exactly, do you need that information?”

James leaned forward, propping an elbow on the counter. “Purely for research purposes.”

“Right. Research.”

“Of course.” James gestured vaguely with his cup. “Hypothetically, if I wanted to take the aforementioned handsome owner out for a drink, I’d need to know what time he’s free.”

Remus stilled, just for a second. It was brief—so brief James might have missed it if he weren’t watching him so closely. Then, with an exasperated sigh, Remus resumed cleaning. “You do realize I own the place, right?”

“That was mentioned, yes.”

“Which means I close. Which means I’ll be here long after you’ve gone home to rethink all your terrible life choices.”

James grinned. “Joke’s on you, Lupin. I never rethink anything.”

Remus muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “unbelievable” under his breath before turning to face him fully. “You know, most people don’t flirt with their baristas on a daily basis.”

James took a slow sip of coffee, then licked his lips for dramatic effect. “I’m not most people.”

Remus sighed, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. He leaned against the counter, mirroring James’ posture. “And what exactly would you do if I said yes?”

James blinked. “To what?”

“To the hypothetical drink.”

James paused. He had expected the banter, the teasing, maybe even another unimpressed look that somehow made Remus ten times more attractive. What he hadn’t expected was for Remus to actually call his bluff.

He straightened, pretending he wasn’t suddenly, ridiculously nervous. “I’d pick you up at eight. Take you to this pub I know, the one with the fairy lights on the patio.”

Remus hummed, considering. “And then?”

James swallowed. “And then I’d spend the night trying to make you laugh, because it’s an excellent sound and I don’t hear it nearly enough.”

The words came out before he could stop them, and James immediately wanted to kick himself. Too sincere. Too real. He was supposed to be charming and ridiculous, not accidentally heartfelt.

Remus, to his credit, didn’t immediately laugh in his face. He just studied James, gaze unreadable. Then, finally, he said, “Eight-thirty.”

James frowned. “What?”

“I close at eight.” Remus wiped his hands on a towel and tossed it onto the counter. “Eight-thirty. Give me time to lock up.”

James blinked, brain short-circuiting. “Wait. You’re—? You mean—?”

Remus smirked. “Speechless for once? Merlin, I should’ve agreed ages ago.”

James grinned, heart pounding. “Eight-thirty. I’ll be here.”

Remus nodded, already turning back to the espresso machine. “Try not to be late, Potter.”

James was out the door before he could embarrass himself further, walking faster than necessary toward work. He took a sip of his coffee, barely tasting it.

For once, it really wasn’t just about the coffee.

———

James spent the rest of his workday in a state of barely controlled chaos.

It was impossible to focus. His coworker Marlene had to snap her fingers in front of his face twice during their morning meeting, and even then, all James managed to do was nod along to whatever she was saying while replaying the last ten minutes at Lupin’s Brews on a loop in his head.

Remus had agreed.

Remus was going on a date with him.

James had flirted relentlessly for weeks, never entirely sure if Remus found him amusing or just mildly irritating. But now? Now he had confirmation that Remus was at least intrigued enough to give him a chance.

So naturally, James did what any self-respecting adult would do.

He panicked.

By the time he got home, Sirius—his best friend and current flatmate—was already sprawled across their couch, scrolling through his phone. He barely glanced up as James burst through the door.

“I have a date,” James announced, dropping his bag onto the floor.

Sirius snorted. “Congratulations, you’ve finally weaponized that ridiculous charm of yours.”

James ignored the jab, flopping onto the couch beside him. “With Remus.”

Sirius paused. Then turned to look at him fully. “Wait. Coffee shop Remus?”

“The very same.”

Sirius let out a low whistle. “Damn. I thought he was immune to you.”

James groaned, covering his face with his hands. “So did I! And now I have approximately two hours to figure out how not to mess this up.”

Sirius smirked. “Don’t suppose you’ll finally listen to my fashion advice?”

James dropped his hands. “No force on earth could make me wear that ridiculous leather jacket of yours, Black.”

Sirius shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Despite the teasing, he did help James pick out an outfit—a simple button-down, sleeves rolled up just enough to look casual, paired with jeans that didn’t make him look like he’d just rolled out of bed. When James finally stood in front of the mirror, checking himself over one last time, Sirius clapped him on the shoulder.

“Relax, mate,” he said. “It’s just a date.”

James exhaled sharply. “Yeah.”

Just a date.

Then why did it feel like the most important one he’d ever been on?

By the time James arrived at Lupin’s Brews, it was 8:28. He stood outside for a moment, heart hammering. Through the large windows, he could see Remus finishing up, locking the till, moving with the same easy efficiency James had admired for weeks.

Then, as if sensing him, Remus looked up.

Their eyes met, and Remus smirked slightly before nodding toward the door. James took that as his cue and stepped inside.

“You’re early,” Remus remarked, grabbing his jacket from the back of a chair.

James grinned. “Impressed?”

Remus hummed, noncommittal. “We’ll see.”

James pretended not to preen at that.

They stepped outside together, and James turned to face him fully. “Shall we?”

Remus rolled his eyes but didn’t hide the small smile playing at his lips. “Lead the way, Potter.”

James did.

And for the first time in weeks, he didn’t need coffee to feel awake.

———

The walk to the pub was… easy. Which was strange, considering James had spent the entire day oscillating between excitement and full-blown panic. But now, with Remus beside him, the cool night air settling between them, it was oddly effortless.

Remus didn’t fill the silence with unnecessary words, and James—who usually had a comment for everything—found himself comfortable with that. Their footsteps echoed against the pavement, the city alive around them but not intrusive.

“So,” Remus said eventually, hands tucked into his jacket pockets. “This pub of yours. What’s the verdict?”

James turned to him with a smirk. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether or not you trust my taste.”

Remus gave him a long, unreadable look. Then, after a beat, “Merlin help me, I think I do.”

James grinned. “Then you’re in for a treat, Lupin.”

The pub was tucked away on a quieter street, strung with fairy lights that flickered softly against the dark sky. A small chalkboard sign near the entrance read: Live Music Thursdays! Try Our Seasonal Cider!

James held the door open, gesturing grandly. “After you.”

Remus shot him a dry look but stepped inside. The space was warm and inviting, all dark wood and dim lighting, the kind of place that felt lived-in without being worn down. A soft hum of conversation filled the air, punctuated by the occasional laugh from a nearby table.

James led them to a booth near the back, sliding in opposite Remus. A moment later, a server appeared, setting down two menus.

“What’s good?” Remus asked, flipping his open.

James didn’t even look. “Two pints of the house ale, please.”

The server nodded and disappeared. Remus arched a brow. “Decisive.”

James shrugged. “You said you trusted me.”

Remus hummed but didn’t argue. He leaned back slightly, eyes flicking around the room. “I like it here.”

James tapped a rhythm against the table. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Remus looked at him then, gaze softer than usual. “I can see why you like it.”

James’ fingers stilled against the wood.

He wasn’t sure how to respond to that, to the way Remus said it like he actually understood something about him. He settled for a grin, the safest thing in his arsenal. “I’ll have you know, Lupin, I have excellent taste.”

Remus snorted. “Debatable.”

Their drinks arrived then, giving James the perfect excuse to take a sip instead of coming up with a retort. The ale was smooth and crisp, just as good as he remembered. Across from him, Remus lifted his glass, took a slow sip, then nodded.

“Alright, Potter,” he admitted. “You win this round.”

James pressed a hand to his chest, mock-offended. “You doubted me?”

“Always.”

James laughed, and Remus smiled—an actual, genuine smile, not the small smirks or amused quirks of the lips James was used to. It made something flip in his chest.

For a while, they just talked. About nothing, about everything. James learned that Remus had inherited Lupin’s Brews from his grandfather, that he liked quiet mornings and hated when people mispronounced ‘espresso.’ Remus learned that James had an embarrassing collection of novelty socks, that he once accidentally convinced his entire office he was allergic to strawberries when really, he just didn’t like them.

And at some point—James didn’t know when—it stopped feeling like a first date.

It felt like something easy, something inevitable.

By the time they left the pub, the streets were quieter, the night settling into something softer.

They walked in silence for a while, until Remus asked, “So, was this part of your grand plan?”

James glanced at him. “What?”

“Winning me over with good beer and excessive charm.”

James grinned. “Is it working?”

Remus hummed, like he was considering it. “Jury’s still out.”

James stopped walking. So did Remus.

They stood there, streetlights casting long shadows, the world around them still but buzzing with possibility.

James rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly nervous. “I meant it, you know.”

Remus frowned slightly. “Meant what?”

“That I don’t just come to your shop for the coffee.” James exhaled, meeting his gaze. “I go because I like seeing you.”

Remus was quiet for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, so quietly James almost missed it, he said, “I know.”

And then, before James could overthink it, before he could ruin it with another joke—Remus closed the space between them and kissed him.

It was brief, just a press of lips, but it was warm, grounding, exactly right.

When they pulled back, James was grinning. “So,” he said, a little breathless. “Is this the part where you tell me I’ve won you over?”

Remus rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “You’re impossible.”

James nudged him with his shoulder. “You like it.”

Remus shook his head, but he didn’t deny it.

And James—James thought maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something good.