Work Text:
One of the best jobs you’ve ever had was the 24/7 coffee shop just a couple of blocks away from your university.
It wasn’t too bad a walk from your classes and where you were staying. The bagels, danishes, and pastries always tasted great, and made for fantastic meal substitutes on the days when you just couldn’t bother to try to cook or find or pay for a balanced meal. Your employee discount meant that you never had to choose to go without a warm drink during the winter and a cold drink during the summer.
And your boss was understanding and kind enough to accommodate you with a schedule that worked best for you: the night shift. Where you could easily balance all your regulars (and the few who had to dash in before an important due date, just for some stable wifi) while studying or doing homework at the counter. Even during the few hours, you had some shifts where you were the only person working. Work is work, sure. But it’s hard to beat a gig that sweet. Opportunities this good don’t come by this often, after all.
Plus, it helps that it’s where you met him: Goro Akechi. The first boy to have caught your eye in a very, very long time.
But he also didn’t speak to you for a very, very long time. At least, not really. Not directly.
The first time he came in was the middle of the fall, just a little before midnight. He was there with one of your regulars, a forensic specialist from the crime center down the street. You were surprised when your regular introduced Goro to you in between placing his order. You thought for sure that the boy was your age and an intern over at the center. You’ve met a couple of people studying criminology who were lucky enough to get into the program they had over there. You thought surely, he must be part of that crowd. Even if he dressed a little too sharply compared to most college students you knew.
But as your regular guest went on his introduction and explained Goro’s background while the boy stood there and gave you a terse smile every time your eyes connected, you realized you were only partially right.
Goro was your age. But he wasn’t an intern. No , he was a detective sent over from Japan as part of some sort of expertise exchange. Apparently, he was an expert in the type of clean-up that your city needed and would be staying for a couple of years, at the very least. But he was your age. And despite the worn, almost perpetually exhausted look in his eyes that made him look far beyond his years, he seemed as fresh-faced as you did feel, now just diving into the world of your major. But apparently, he’s been doing this for years. He’s been famous for doing this for years.
That night, you made your regular two cups of black coffee to go, instead of just one. But it took nearly the whole pot you had just put on because your hands were shaking so bad at the thought of serving coffee to someone who was supposed to be a celebrity. You had spilled so much just by overfilling the cups as you tried to sneak glances at the new boy while he was conversing quietly with his coworker; you felt like it was your first day at work all over again.
Plus, it didn’t help that he was cute. Very cute. The type of cute that made you avert your eyes and gasp out quietly as your fingers brushed against yours when you tried to hand him his coffee .
The type of cute that had you memorizing the split second you got to see of his flustered expression when that happened, before he quickly dashed out of your store and quickly ducked behind your corner to sequel like a little kid discovering their first crush.
The type of cute that you has you looking him up after your shift, only to find that not only was he famous and very good at his job, millions of others your age (and older) also believed that he was cute and just couldn’t seem to act right around him.
But… he was also the type of cute that made you realize only after the fifth time he came in over two weeks with that same co-worker as always…he never spoke a word to you. Your regular would do all the talking. The ordering, the small-talk, the “thank yous.” And Goro…Goro would smile at you. A soft, pretty type of smile that seemed a little too practiced and strained to be true. And he would acknowledge your greetings or questions with just a simple nod or shake of his head. And he would bow his head a little whenever he’d take the cup from you- a gesture you’re starting to learn means thanks. But that wasn’t speaking . Not to you, at least.
That realization took the magic out of things for a while.
You had watched some of his old interviews and show appearances from back when he was still a high school student in Japan. And while you didn’t understand a word of what he said or what was going on without subtitles, you could pick up enough of his personality to understand that he wasn’t really the shy or reserved type. He seemed to hold his own easily with crowds and other notable figures. He seemed charismatic and funny and perfectly talkative when he wanted to be on those shows. And sometimes, you would even see him talking to his co-worker while you step away from the register to get started with their drinks. But he would never speak to you.
He found some way to communicate, sure. He didn’t outright ignore you, yes. But he wouldn’t speak to you. He wouldn’t say anything to you. In fact, you’re positive you’ve never heard his voice in person before.
Still, it rubbed you the wrong way. You know he must have his reasons. In fact, you hope he does. And you hope they’re good ones rather than the ones your mind keeps coming up with when the silence between the two of you becomes deafening. But it didn’t stop you from feeling insecure every time you had to watch your attempts at typical late-night barista small talk would be met with nods and shrugs, even when the question you asked didn’t really call for that type of answer.
Until that fateful day, a little under three months after you both met.
The first time you saw him come to the shop alone.
That alone surprised you. So much so that you nearly stuttered over greeting him by almost saying two names, instead of just his. After all, you figured Goro came here before only because this was where his co-worker always went to, and didn’t have any time to look for his own favorite place after moving from Japan. But then again…it wouldn’t be so surprising if he enjoyed coming here on his own. Not many places open as late as this one does- especially not on this side of those. And your boss has always made sure to buy the highest quality coffee beans and other ingredients to keep the customers flowing. And maybe…maybe this place was starting to become a source of comfort for him? Maybe the atmosphere felt familiar enough after all these visits. Maybe this was still the place he wanted to get his coffee from. Even if he didn’t want to speak to you while he got it.
But you were over all that. Sort of. Mostly. Kind of. Well…not really.
But you were over it enough to do your job and do it well without letting it bother you too much.
Besides, during those months' worth of late-night visits, you had gotten used to how things were. You’ve gotten used to navigating conversations with Goro. You’ve come to understand what some of the more subtle gestures he gave you meant. You couldn’t speak to him in a traditional way, sure. But you could get the job done just fine. And that’s all that matters at the end of the day. That you got the job done.
“Hi Goro,” You greeted him with your usual smile as you put down the homework you were working on between customers and went to meet him at the register. But as he approached, you realized he seemed a little more wound up than usual. His steps were more purposeful, and his shoulders looked tense. He was acting a bit stiff and awkward when he finally made it in front of the counter, and it was hard to ignore the slight frown and furrow to his eyebrows, and he looked at you. But you didn’t comment on it. Why should you? Knowing him, the most you’d probably get was a sheepish shrug. Plus, the most likely answer is sometimes the obvious answer: he wasn’t used to going here alone. And you doubt putting him on the spot would make things any better for either of you. “Fancy seeing you here! Want the usual ord-?”
“カフェオレをお願いします”
You’re…not sure what just happened.
And judging by the look on his face…Goro doesn’t seem to know what happened either.
Everything happened rather fast. He seemed to be in a rush to cut you off, his face glowing a light pink color at the time of him spouting off whatever he had just said to you. But by the time the phrase is out of his mouth, you’re still processing the first couple of sounds that you heard. Because while you don’t speak the language, it sounds like Japanese. It sounds like him speaking Japanese. But what to do after that, you’re not quite sure. It’s late at night, and while all the night shifts you work have you better adjusted than most people when it comes to staying out late and functioning on very few hours of sleep, you can’t really find a response. One that makes sense. One that will work. One that will break you out of this stunned state, at that.
So, instead of doing something productive, you blink at him in pure silence. With a wide-eyed, dumbfounded expression as your mind plays catch-up with the rest of you.
And Goro…blinks right back at you, also in silence. Only, his expression is colored in a different type of confusi on. Because at that moment, he was just staring straight at you with his eyebrows furrowed even deeper and a frown, a little more upset than before. Almost as if he thinks he was perfectly clear with…whatever it was that he said to you. Almost as if he’s unsure why you’re having the reaction that you’re currently having. Until it hits him.
“ Japanese… ” You heard his pleasant-sounding voice mutter quietly in heavily accented English. You nearly gasped at the sound, now fully realizing that he’s speaking to you directly at the moment. For the very first time, after who knows how many visits at this point. But one look at the crestfallen expression on his face tells you now is not the time to be celebrating. Because just like that… “ I asked you…in Japanese .”
It hits you, too.
“Oh…I didn’t even realize! Don’t worry!” You’re quick to wave him off, and suddenly, you’re feeling stupid, stupid, stupid at the sight of his beyond embarrassed expression (that you can see he’s already trying to salvage). “It’s alright, I-”
It never came to mind.
The thought of him being reluctant to speak to you because of the language barrier. It literally never crossed your mind. Sure , you saw him speak to his co-worker. But did you know for certain they were speaking English to each other? And even if they were, who’s to say he'd automatically feel comfortable doing the same to you- a complete stranger- when he has a reputation to uphold. Because if you remember correctly from the few interviews of his that you saw (okay, maybe you saw more than a few- but in your defense, who wouldn’t do the same if their cafe crush had the media presence that he did), he knows English. But whether or not he’s comfortable speaking it is a whole other story. One that you feel like you’re witnessing right now.
“I’m sorry, I just…” He says to you, a sad smile starting to grace his face before he trails off and murmurs something to himself in Japanese. Whatever he's saying to himself is harsh. You don't need to speak it to know that much- you can just tell by the way his face temporarily scrunches up in rage before his muscles relax into a shy, awkward attempt at trying to look calm and composed. “Not…not used to this…”
As he trails off again, your mind replays all that you've seen in the past few seconds. Include the range of emotion you just saw slip through the carefully crafted mask of the boy in front of you. And you have to say... all those faces? All those expressions? They look nothing like the ones you've seen on him during his past visits. Nor do they look like anything you've ever seen in one of his interviews. It's...not the look of a detective prin ce. It's not the look of a boy genius so good he was shipped over to another coun try just to save them. All of this? Every single emotion you just saw. It looked raw. Honest. Vulnerable. Human, even.
But human is good. Makes him approachable in your eyes.
“It’s okay," You say, finally, offering up the warmest, kindest smile you can offer him. It doesn't make him relax. At least, not immediately. But you don't miss the fact that the hopeful look in his eyes starts to grow when you continue to look at him with that kind expression. Admittedly, it starts to make you feel hopeful, too. After all, you spent all this time just wishing he would speak to you. Only to have him standing right in front of you, looking equally mortified and happy that you're still speaking to him. "How about we start over, alright? What can I get you, Goro?"
You never serve him black coffee after that.
You do , however, start serving him カフェオレ(or cafe au lait , you both figured out as few minutes of struggling with his little book of translations that he keeps with him at all times) at least a few times a week for the next two years. Right when he agreed to stay at your city’s crime center full time with no plans to return to Japan anytime soon. Because after that point? You start making his coffee every single morning he goes into work, not just the nights when he’s there for the graveyard shift.
He could have started going to a new coffee shop at any point. He could have started going to the one you work at on nights you weren’t there. He could have found some new girl to crush all over him and make his coffee for him. He could have. But he didn’t. It wasn’t in the cards for him. Not then. Not after two years. And certainly not now, either.
Even though you had quit your job at the coffee shop a long, long time ago, by this point.
Because he bought that fancy new coffee maker for his apartment. The one with all the buttons, features, and tools he doesn’t really quite understand. But he bought that thing for you . Or rather, right after you agreed to move in with him. So it would have been a shame if he started going somewhere else to get his coffee now. And it would have been a waste, too.
Of a fancy new coffee maker. Of two years of going to the same coffee spot just to get his fix of caffeine and you. Of several months of courting you and getting to know you. And for several weeks of building up the courage to speak to you in your own language. And still messing up when he was finally brave enough to take the chance.
But every time you look back, you’re happy you had that job. Because you probably wouldn’t have met Goro otherwise. And you’re glad he did, even though it took him forever to get there. Even though it wasn’t perfect when he tried to either.
Because without that moment? Because without all that happening? You wouldn’t have found yourself right here, in his office, messing around in not-so-appropriate ways while he’s supposed to be busy taking a work call.
“Perhaps I’ll get more time off with you on your maternity leave.”
Waiting for him to make you his lovely little Mom-To-Be.