Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Morning sunshine.” Remus shouted from one end of the bar.

“Jesus Christ, It’s way too early for this” Barty grumbled back, tying his navy apron tightly around his waist.

“It’s always too early for you Crouch. Where did you leave your holiday spirit?” Remus smirked over his shoulder as he was making another fucking Peppermint Mocha.

“Up your mother’s bum, Lupin.” Barty replied with a serious tone.

“Marlene said that you should hang the lights already. We’re 3 days into December and you haven’t so much as looked at the Christmas decorations.” Great. Just splendid.

“Why don’t you do it,Lupin?” There was no way Barty was taking time out of his day just to give the coffee shop he worked at a slightly more cozy and festive atmosphere.

“Can’t. Marlene specifically said you were to do it. Something about you scaring customers away with your Scrooge attitude.”

The fuck? Barty scrunched his face up.

“I’m not a Scrooge, whats wrong with you?” Barty replied with a twisted expression. Remus laughed. Loudly. He put his damp cloth over his shoulder and started talking.

“Really? You’re not a Scrooge? What about last week when a lady came in and ordered a Peppermint Mocha and you looked at her so ugly she actually left.”

“That wasn’t my fault, she said she had a work meeting.”

“Well, what about just earlier this week when a man came in and ordered a gingerbread latte and you replied with, and I quote, Aren’t you a little old to get excited over extra calories in your coffee? Oh, wait I know, what about-“

“Okay, okay, I get it, I’m not fucking Santa Claus, but that doesn’t mean I’m a scrooge.”

“I’m just saying, It wouldn’t hurt to put in a little effort.” Remus said in a much more sincere tone than the one he was just shaming Barty in a couple of seconds ago.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right. I promise that on the first customer that comes in, I’ll be candy canes and jingle bells all around.”

Fuck, he regretted saying that already.

“That’s the spirit.” Remus turned around and continued wiping the counter while Barty went back to the register to make sure things were all set up for opening.

Twenty minutes had passed when Barty heard the chime of a bell signaling someone had come in. He looked up to see who the lucky person who would get Santa Barty was and was met with a head of wavy hair and a pair of grey eyes. Shit.

Why did the person have to not only be a regular but also his best friend as well?

He looked at Remus, who only raised his eyebrows and made a go on then signal with his hand. Fuck.

“Welcome to The Velvet Bean, where your winter wonderland wildest dreams come true inside of a paper cup!” Barty had smiled and chorused.

“What the hell?” Regulus squinted his eyes at him.

“Can I tempt you with something Merry and minty today?”

“I’m terrified. What the fuck is going on right now?”

“Ho, Ho, Ho!” Barty looked over at Remus, who was nearly pissing himself by the pastries. Idiot.

“The fuck did you just call me?” Regulus said with the most confused face Barty had ever seen him in.

“Peace, love, and peppermint lattes!”

“Okay actually stop now, this looks painful.” Barty relaxed his face and shoulders.

“Marlene says I need to be more cheerful so as not to scare the customers away.”

“Well, whatever that was, don’t do it again. You had me genuinely terrified there for a second.”

“Consider it done.” Barty raised his hands in surrender. “What can I actually get for you today?”

“Oh no, I’m not here for a drink, I’m here to invite you to my annual Christmas bash happening on Saturday.”

“Sure, I’ll come.” Barty said as he changed the song playing over the speaker.

“Great.” Regulus turned to Remus “Remus you can come too, but bring your hot friends.”

Remus raised his brows and smirked.

“By hot friends, you mean James, right?” Regulus got a slight blush on the apple of his cheeks.

“I said no such thing.” Regulus crossed his arms defensively.
“But you didn’t have to, it’s implied.” Barty added.

“I will not stand you ganging up on me. See you Saturday at 8:30, be there or be square.” And with that, he turned and left the shop.

Chapter Text

It was 4 pm on Saturday when Barty was making his way down Fifth Avenue, looking for his favorite hot dog stand. It was peak winter, and although he was wearing layers upon layers, he was still freezing his balls off. He loved living in New York, but why was it that the minute Thanksgiving was over, everyone suddenly had the need to turn into a citizen of Whoville? Honestly, all he wanted was to go eat a fucking hot dog without getting tossed around the street by a bum dressed as Santa Claus or some child whining about not wanting cashmere socks for a present.

After much elbowing, he had finally reached Maks’ Hot Dog stand. At last, he would get the hot dog he had been craving all day, he wondered if maybe-

His thoughts were rudely interrupted when a head of blonde hair cut in front of him to get in line.

“Uhm, excuse you?” Barty tapped on the man’s shoulder, ignoring how firm it felt underneath Bartys hand; he also ignored the fact that the man seemed to be on a rather important call.

“Do you mind? I’m kind of in the middle of something.” The man gestured to his phone and barely looked at Barty as he said this. Asshole.

“Yeah, I do mind. You just cut in line in front of me. I was here first.” Honestly, how self-entitled could you be?

“I don’t usually apologize for being ahead, sorry sweetheart.” The man said before going back to his call.

What the fuck. Barty let out an annoyed chuffle because, what else could he do?

“Listen, Pamela, I’ve got to go, but please keep me informed on the piece in Food Network Magazine. We can´t have the Risotto incident happen again.”

Risotto incident? Barty vaguely wondered what that was about. The man finally turned to look at Barty, who was, by the way, furious. He was about the same height as Barty, had blonde hair and a set of blue eyes. Typical. The man gave Barty a once-over before smirking.

“Well, if I’d known you’d be behind me, I’d have cut in line sooner.” Oh, you have to be joking. This is what Barty got for wanting to treat himself for once in his life.

“You’re an asshole, you know that? I mean, just who do you think you are to—”

“To cut in line for a hot dog?” The man raised an eyebrow, unbothered. “A man with taste.”

Barty laughed once, disbelieving. “You’re insufferable.”

“I’ve been called worse,” the guy said, handing a twenty to Mak without breaking eye contact. “Keep the change, Mak. And give him an extra napkin. He looks like the type to spill mustard when he’s angry.”

Barty blinked. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I get that a lot,” the man said, already unwrapping his hot dog. “You should try one of these before you explode. It might soften your personality.”

“Oh my God—” He was about to throw another insult when Mak handed him a hot dog.

Barty scrunched up his brows. “I haven’t paid for this.”

“No, but he did.” Mak signaled his head toward the man.

Barty blinked. “Wait—what?”

The man shrugged, licking his finger ketchup free. “Consider it compensation. Or hush money. Whichever helps you sleep at night.”

“I don’t want your pity hot dog.”

“It’s not pity,” he said, taking another bite from his hot dog. “It’s a strategy. You can’t stay mad while eating one of these.”

“Oh, you have no idea how mad I can stay.”

“I’ll take my chances.” He glanced up from his food, a grin tugging at his mouth.

Before Barty could fire back, the man’s phone started ringing again. He looked at his screen, then turned to Barty one last time.

“Listen, I’ve got to run, but this was fun. We should do it again sometime, enjoy the hot dog.”

And just like that, he was gone — walking back into the chaos of Fifth Avenue, leaving behind the faint smell of expensive cologne and lingering annoyance.

Barty stared down at the hot dog.

“On the house,” Mak said with a smirk. “Technically.”

Barty sighed. “Unbelievable.”

Still, he took a bite. And damn it — it was a really good hot dog.

***

The next time Barty thought about the hot dog guy, he was three drinks deep and wearing a Santa hat that didn’t belong to him.

Regulus’ Christmas party was in full swing — the kind of event where the air smelled like cinnamon, cheap wine, and bad decisions. Half the guests were already dancing to Michael Bublé , while the other half were pretending not to. Barty, naturally, was at the drinks table making himself another cocktail and pretending this was fun.

He easily spotted Marlene on the dancefloor, dancing with a stunning dark skinned woman who had the most beautiful head of hair Barty had ever seen. Next to them, he saw Remus’ friend Lily talking to a guy he vaguely recognized from other gatherings.

Obviously, It wouldn’t be a Christmas party without Sirius and Remus taking every opportunity to stand under a mistletoe, but what was new, was this interest Regulus seemed to have taken in Remus’ friend James. Barty knew Regulus found James hot and viceversa, but he actually seemed pretty interested in this guy. Barty was happy for him. Reg deserved someone who treated him like he deserved to be treated, and James seemed like just the guy. He smiled privately at this.

“Bartyyy!” Regulus’ voice rang out from somewhere near the mistletoe. “You’re actually smiling. I’m proud of you.”

“I’m not smiling,” Barty said, smiling. “My face is just stuck this way from the alcohol.”

“Uh-huh.” Regulus poured him another splash of something bright red. “Okay, so there’s someone I want you to meet—”

“Oh no. No, no. We’re not doing this again. Last time you tried to set me up, I ended up talking to a guy who thought NFTs were a love language.”

Regulus laughed, waving him off. “Trust me, you’ll like this one. He’s smart, charming, normal.”

Barty squinted. “You sound suspiciously confident.”

“That’s cause I am. I’m hosting a Christmas miracle. Just be nice.”

That was never a good sign.

Before Barty could argue, Regulus disappeared into the crowd. Barty groaned and downed the rest of his drink. He’d find the exit, grab his coat, and leave before any “miracle” could occur.

But then Regulus’ voice came again — far too cheerful.

“Hey, Evan! Over here!”

Barty froze. No. No, the universe wouldn’t be that cruel.

But of course it would.

Because standing there, looking infuriatingly put-together in a reindeer light-up sweater and a smile that screamed I win at life, was the hot dog guy.

“You,” Barty said before his brain could catch up.

The man’s grin widened, blue eyes glinting. “Well, if it isn’t Mr. Mustard Rage.”

“Oh my God.” Barty turned to Regulus. “This is your ‘normal’ guy? The line-cutter?”

Regulus blinked. “Wait—you two know each other?”

“Unfortunately,” Barty muttered.

Evan gave a lazy shrug. “I prefer to think of it as fate. Or very poor luck, depending on your outlook.”

“You bought me a pity hot dog,” Barty snapped.

“I bought you lunch. You’re welcome.”

“It was not lunch, it was a bribe.”

“Call it what you want. You still ate it.”

“Because I was hungry!”

“Sure, sweetheart.”

Barty gawked at him, jaw dropping. “Did you just—? Oh, you did not just ‘sweetheart’ me again.”

Evan leaned against the counter, annoyingly calm. “I think I did. You make it sound like a challenge.”

“Unbelievable,” Barty muttered, pointing at him with his cup. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I get that a lot.”

Regulus was watching them like he’d just realized he’d set two feral cats loose in the same room.

“I—uh—gonna…check on the eggnog,” he said, fleeing.

“So, what is it you do when you’re not buying strangers’ dinner out of guilt?”

“I’d tell you, but I’m afraid you’d accuse me of cutting in line again.”

“Maybe because you did cut in line.”

“And yet, here you are — still talking about it. I must’ve made quite the impression.”

Barty groaned into his drink. “I’m too drunk for this.”

“Good,” Evan said, stepping a little closer. “That’s when people are most honest.”

Barty’s heart did a stupid little stutter. “I’m not being honest with you.”

“Then you’re not drunk enough.”

He laughed once — sharp and humorless. “You think you’re charming, don’t you?”

“I know I am.”

“That’s tragic.”

Evan smirked. “And yet, you’re still talking to me.”

Barty opened his mouth to retort, but his brain was fuzzy, the music was too loud, and the man smelled unfairly good. So instead, he said, “You’re a menace to society.”

“And you,” Evan replied easily, “are delightful when you’re indignant.”

“Stop using words like indignant at a Christmas party. You’re ruining the vibe.”

Evan chuckled, raising his glass in a mock toast. “To ruining vibes, then.”

Barty glared, but his lips twitched before he could stop them.

“Well, there weren’t many vibes to begin with, if I’m being honest.” Barty said, shaking his head from side to side.

“What do you mean?” Evan scrunched his brows before bringing his glass to his lips.

“Mariah Carey singing the same song for 3 hours straight and ugly sweater themes? Not exactly my idea of fun.”

“I actually love it.”

“Of course you would love Christmas, you’re such a manchild.”

“Excuse me? Enjoying Christmas has nothing to do with being a manchild.”

“Sure it doesn’t,” Barty said, rolling his eyes. “Next thing you’ll tell me you leave out cookies for Santa too.”

Evan turned beetroot red.

“Oh my god, you do. You actually-“

Evan lowered his glass, pretending to be offended. “First of all, I have a younger sister who I spend Christmas with. And second of all, I don’t pretend to like Christmas. I excel at it. There’s a difference.”

“Oh, right,” Barty deadpanned. “You’re a professional Christmas enjoyer. Should I be taking notes?”

Evan leaned a little closer, grin spreading. “Only if you plan on getting on the nice list this year.”

Barty let out a short laugh, incredulous. “Oh my God, do you hear yourself?”

“I do,” Evan said easily, unfazed. “And I sound delightful.”

“You sound like a walking peppermint latte.”

Evan nodded, accepting the insult as if it were a compliment. “Sweet, warm, universally adored—thank you.”

Barty snorted, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

“That’s what they say right before falling for me.”

Barty froze mid-sip, blinking. “You’re not serious.”

Evan tilted his head. “A little.”

“Wow,” Barty said, setting down his glass. “That’s bold. You don’t even know me.”

“I know you get angry about hot dogs,” Evan countered, a teasing spark in his eyes. “And that you secretly like the chaos of New York, even though you complain about it. I’d say I’m off to a decent start.”

Barty’s face warmed — from the alcohol, obviously. “You’re ridiculous.”

Evan smirked. “You keep saying that like it’s an insult.”

“It is an insult.”

“Then why are you smiling?”

Barty’s expression faltered. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m drunk.”

“Then I guess I’m charming and lucky.”

Barty groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “Do you ever stop talking?”

“Only when I’m listening.”

“That’s—” he stopped, brow furrowing. “That’s actually kind of smooth.”

Evan raised his eyebrows. “Was that a compliment?”

“It was a mistake.”

Evan laughed, the kind that made Barty’s chest tighten for no good reason. “You’re terrible at pretending you don’t like me.”

“I’m amazing at pretending,” Barty said, grabbing his coat from the back of a chair. “Watch this.”

He started toward the door, muttering under his breath. He’d almost made it out of the living room when Evan called after him, voice bright with amusement.

“Merry Christmas, Barty.”

Barty paused at the doorway. He turned, lips curling into a reluctant grin.

“Yeah,” he said. “Happy holidays, line-cutter.”

And then he left — cheeks flushed, heart annoyingly light, and the sound of Evan’s laugh following him all the way down the hall.

By the time Barty found Regulus again, the night had blurred into warmth and laughter and too many drinks.

Regulus raised an eyebrow. “So, what do you think of Evan?”

Barty downed the last of his cocktail. “I think he’s an arrogant, infuriating, smug bastard.”

“Uh-huh. And?”

Barty sighed, the corner of his mouth betraying him with a smile. “And he’s got a really nice smile. Don’t tell him I said that.”

Regulus grinned. “Oh, I think he already knows.”