Work Text:
It was a regular morning. Unremarkable, really. One of those «gray» ones, not literally, but in its very essence. Nothing about it stood out.
The only saving grace was the weather: sunny, warm, like it was gently pulling him out of his cramped little room on campus for a breather, a walk.
But, of course, there was one problem - work. Or more like a side gig. At Dutch Bros Coffee. A pretty common, no-fuss option, really.
Ivan - a Russian student, here in the States on a language program, studying on a student visa. He’d be staying for one, maybe two semesters if he felt like it.
It had been, what, two weeks since he arrived? And already, he’d figured out one thing, if he didn’t find some kind of job soon, week three would be a water-and-discounts survival arc.
(And those local discounts? Didn’t show up nearly as often as one might hope.)
Such was the life of a broke student from a small Russian town.
The coffee burned his tongue. He swore quietly under his breath, in Russian naturally and shut his eyes tight.
So much for a smooth start to the day
Skipping breakfast to save time, Ivan threw on his work uniform: a black long-sleeve shirt with the Dutch Bros logo and a pair of black jeans. Comfortable enough. Practical.
He didn’t have much experience in customer service, but with his temperament, he took things seriously. Met expectations with quiet understanding.
Unlike most of the other young people working there, Ivan stood out - focused, composed, a little distant.
He wasn’t the type to hang out, or experiment with crap. Not his thing.
Especially when school was on the line and not just any school, but in another country. It was a lot. A stress his body wasn’t exactly used to.
And so, fully dressed, he took a deep breath, hoping to calm the nerves stirred up by yet another new workday. Really, people would understand if something went wrong, right? Nothing terrible should happen... should it?
The commute wasn’t too long, but the bus was packed to the brim, the air turning stale and suffocating under the weight of the scorching sun outside.
Finally - his stop. A place he already knew. Familiar faces, kind and cheerful people, but loud. Too loud, for his taste.
The signature logo, neon meets graffiti, blared alongside pop music that made his temples throb from the bass. Some mindless chart-topper was playing.
What a fucking mess, crossed his mind.
A small walk-up window faced the wide parking lot, already crowded with cars: everything from rusted-out clunkers to sleek new models.
The sweet smell of fruity drinks filled his lungs, slowly awakening his appetite.
The baristas were already in place. A couple of them greeted him: a cute girl and a loud guy. Well, that was something. Considering he was a foreigner, it felt like progress.
Their looks didn’t always match his own style: here, people embraced bright and revealing clothes; short skirts, dyed hair, tattoos, and every shade of the rainbow.
Honestly? That felt foreign to Braginsky.
It was Ivan’s shift today. A mix of regulars came by: local truckers, students, teenagers, and old folks. His job was to be friendly. Alright. Polite? Totally doable. But chatty?
Now that was a bit more complicated
«Have a good day», - Ivan said, trying to soften his naturally low voice, giving a polite smile as he handed the drink to the customer.
It was the middle of the day. Only the air conditioner inside saved them from the unbearable heat. His throat was dry, and he took a long sip from a plastic water bottle, almost half of it.
The thought of the upcoming university assignments weighed on him, not letting him fully relax. And all in another language. Sure, his English wasn’t bad, but his brain felt like it was melting from the overload.
A light sweat on his forehead and nose reminded him of the stuffiness, even though the air from the AC was about 18 to 20 degrees Celsius.
Just kill him now
There was still a long way until the end of his shift, but he was already tired. Is that even normal?
His thoughts were interrupted by a male voice:
«Ivan, - it was, apparently, a guy from Germany, - wipe down the work area while there are no customers», - he said, friendly, patting the Russian on the shoulder.
Not a bad guy.
Braginsky sighed and nodded, pulling out the cleaning supplies and cloths from the drawers:
«Sure thing»
Finally, all the equipment and surfaces were wiped down. The counters gleamed with cleanliness, and Ivan felt a quiet pride for his responsibility and speed. After all, no customers had come by during that time. Funny.
Suddenly, a fancy black car pulled up to the window. Braginsky barely managed not to roll his eyes at the sight. God, all the pretentiousness: latest-model phones, two guys: one driving, the other in the passenger seat. Both wore black sunglasses. Hawaiian shirts, and the same loud, trashy music blaring.
How could it get any worse?
And the arrogant faces. Pure show-off, nothing more to say.
«Hey, dude! Medium caramel latte with syrup, almond milk and…, - the first guy started, then turned to his companion to ask, - what do you want?»
The other one popped out from behind his friend, wearing a wide crooked grin and a cocky look:
«Large energy drink. And make it quick»
The first guy: red-haired, admittedly looking a bit dumb, if Ivan was honest, wore a gold chain that looked out of place, almost gaudy. At least, that’s how Ivan saw it.
Now Braginsky could see the second guy clearly too: blond, dark aviators hiding his eyes, but golden skin contrasting with his hair color.
Ivan wanted to puke from the boldness of these two, especially the damn blond. They looked like they were on something. Not that he knew for sure, just the messy hairstyles unsettled him.
But not resisting his job, the Russian quickly jotted down the order in his notebook, breaking away only when finished:
«Sure, a couple of minutes, please»
He didn’t even want to smile, only a condescending tone.
That’ll be enough for them, he dared to think.
Turning to start making the order, he caught something like:
«Alf, calm down»
Followed by loud, annoying laughter.
Morons.
The order seemed ready. But the thought of going back to those two? Not even remotely tempting.
Seriously, who’d ever want to deal with such talentless idiots?
Hilarious. They hadn’t even really spoken, and Ivan already couldn’t stand them.
His hands trembled slightly from nerves - weird, jittery nerves.
Swear to God, what could possibly go wrong?
Music - loud and obnoxious was blasting from their car, still audible all the way inside.
Idiots.
Ivan approached the counter to pass off the order and call out his «favorite» customers.
But before he could say anything, the same car pulled up to the exact same spot as before.
All good.
Except for the half-naked blond stretched out across the hood with a dumb grin on his face.
What the actual hell
Braginsky suppressed his shock, hiding it with practiced ease under a scowl that slid unfortunately down the guy’s body.
Okay, yeah, he was annoyed. More than annoyed. But it was impossible not to notice how damn built the guy was.
Realization hit too late - he was staring.
At those firm muscles, at the way the veins rolled beneath sun-kissed skin, at the defined back that flexed as the idiot tried to keep from sliding off the hood completely.
A madhouse. A joke. No a fucking circus.
The car stopped right in front of him. The blond propped himself up a bit, trying to level with Ivan.
The sweat glistened on his skin under the scorching sun, and yeah, that was… hard to look away from.
The redhead in the driver’s seat had been laughing loudly this whole time.
Thankfully, no one else was around.
Ivan’s face flushed instantly, uncontrollably, the moment that dumbass opened his mouth:
«Your service’s like a dream. Almost makes me wanna leave my number»
Ivan grimaced.
It was such a dumb pickup line he couldn't even process it. The drinks were still in his hands, barely.
If he weren’t wearing the damn uniform, those cups would’ve been crushed and their contents spilled.
Where exactly? Use your imagination. Preferably, Ivan would’ve aimed for that stupid golden mop.
The driver burst into another round of laughter, doubling over the steering wheel.
Irritation and humiliation shot through Ivan like a voltage spike.
No words.
Frozen in place like a damn post, Ivan stared at that obscenely attractive face - too attractive, in fact.
The kind of attractive that made you wanna punch it. Just to even it out a little.
The blond reached for his drinks. Finally.
He snatched both cups from Ivan’s hands, handed one to his friend, and took a long sip from his own. He exhaled in delight.
«I think I get why people come here every morning, - he said, taking another sip, - not for the coffee»
Ivan, from the outside, looked like a tomato.
Shame, irritation, confusion - all tangled into a single, unbearable mess.
Mother of God, are they actually high or something?
And the worst part? That whole thing had been said on purpose, for everyone to hear.
The bastard even had the nerve to smile like that - all smug and glowing.
The sweat shined on his chest. His buddy hadn’t stopped cackling. And the blond? Not an ounce of embarrassment.
He was clearly thriving.
Jesus Christ
«W-what?» - Ivan stammered, completely lost on what the hell was happening.
His palms were sweaty - from the heat or from the nerves, he couldn’t tell.
The air felt suffocating, even though the collar of his light hoodie wasn’t even touching his neck.
Is this some kind of prank? If it is, who the hell did he piss off this badly?
How are you even supposed to react to this?
Braginsky couldn't move. He just blinked slowly, his long lashes fluttering like he’d forgotten people could still see him.
The guy in the driver’s seat was wheezing with laughter, his face tomato-red, though still not as red as Ivan’s. Tears had started sliding down his cheeks in thin, shaky lines.
«Dumbass, stop it!» - he screeched, collapsing back into the seat.
But the idiot didn’t care. Not even a little. He jumped down from the hood of the car, settling on the edge, now way too close to the poor barista.
«You know, - he said casually, - you’re the first person in a place like this who’s ever made me wanna confess. I’m Alfred»
A tanned hand extended toward Ivan, who just stared at it, completely blank.
He was at work, for God’s sake. What was this flirting?
The guy’s bicep flexed slightly, the veins and muscle shifting like he knew exactly what effect he had.
«I don’t do introductions»
Ivan cleared his throat, trying to sound as threatening as possible.
As if that would stop this clown. Cute.
For half a second, it looked like the guy’s pride took a hit. What kind of lunatic turns down someone this hot?
But then the hesitation vanished, replaced by a slow, cocky grin. Even his redhead friend in the car stopped laughing for a beat.
«Damn. Didn’t think «no» could sound that adorable»
The blond slid off the hood and leaned in closer, right up to the counter. He took off his black sunglasses and locked eyes with Ivan - icy blue, unblinking.
His hand was still out. Ivan had no idea what the hell to do with it.
He just wanted to go home. Not stand here making eye contact with some shameless asshole.
But this was still his shift. And in here, customer words were gospel. He had to be polite.
With a long sigh, Ivan reached out and shook the guy’s hand, gaze still glued to the counter.
«You gonna tell me your name, or just stand there looking pretty?» - the blond chuckled.
Somewhere behind him, the redhead let out a strangled «Oh my God». Ivan cringed inwardly.
Why him, of all people?
The handshake didn’t end. The guy’s grip was warm no, hot - like it burned a little.
Ivan fought the urge to recoil, deadpan-tired as he muttered:
«Alfred, right? I don’t have time for this. Sorry, man»
Apparently, that answer wasn’t good enough. But credit where it’s due, the dude didn’t show it. Gold star.
«Alf, come on, - the friend croaked from the car, still snickering. - Let’s go already»
Finally, a voice of reason. But then Alfred’s hand slid up to Ivan’s forearm, like a casual little parting touch.
Tiny shocks sparked under his skin, like static. The audacity.
«Ohhh, - Alfred grinned, tilting his head, - you just want me to chase you. Got it»
He winked.
Ivan was just about to yell at him for touching, for not backing off, for but suddenly, lips crashed into his.
It was quick, messy, borderline careless. The guy’s tongue slid across Ivan’s lower lip, his hand keeping Ivan frozen in place.
Ivan didn’t move. Couldn’t. Eyes wide, body locked, mind blank.
It was too fast. Too random. Too stupidly real. No one could be ready for that.
His brain just… shut down. But a wave of goosebumps shot down his spine, and his hands started trembling.
If their manager saw this?
Ivan would literally die.
He felt like every coworker was watching. Customers filming. His whole existence unraveling on camera. But no. That was just panic talking. Reality wasn’t nearly as dramatic.
The blond finally pulled back, smug and lazy, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Even his friend looked stunned.
That’s how out-of-pocket this all was.
«What the-»
Ivan didn’t even get the rest out. A slip of paper was dropped on the counter in front of him.
Phone number.
A few bills on top - way more than the coffee cost.
Even money felt like a slap in the face right now.
The guy couldn’t even remember what had just happened - he was too stunned.
He thought someone in the car muttered:
«God, what a nightmare»
The blond had already disappeared from view, flopping onto the passenger seat beside his friend. Looked like he blew a kiss to the Russian on his way out.
With loud bass still booming, the car pulled out of the parking lot.
The street wasn’t particularly busy. Probably because of the heat.
His lips still tingled from the feel of that tongue - his bottom lip was damp, and Ivan licked it absentmindedly.
It took a second before he realized what he’d just done.
The door to his tiny drinks counter opened again, and along with some sugary pop track came that guy from Germany.
Ludwig, was it?
«Ivan, I heard yelling, - he said with a nervous glance at the flushed Russian, - is... everything alright?»
Ivan could see how awkward Ludwig felt just looking at him. Well, yeah. Red face, trembling hands, a feverish look in his eyes. Nothing weird here.
Clearing his throat, Ivan replied:
«Y-yeah. Just a picky customer. Complained a lot»
Ludwig made a noise that sounded like an «oh» - sympathetic.
«He didn’t file a complaint against us, did he?» - Ludwig asked cautiously.
That familiar anxiety about the manager possibly firing them. They needed to keep their rep clean.
That damn kiss flashed through Ivan’s mind again. Saliva pooled in his mouth and he swallowed hard.
«It’s fine. I handled it. Not a lot of orders today anyway»
They exchanged a couple more lines before Ivan finally returned to the counter. Alone. Thank god.
A small scrap of paper was still clutched between his long fingers. The handwriting was bold, messy, daring him to dial the number.
Idiots.
Cocky, arrogant bastards.
He didn’t even realize his fingers were already punching in the blond’s number.
Because he liked the kiss