Chapter Text
Winter
Jimin has seen a lot of dogs come by his workplace. The coffee shop – more of a stand, really – operates out of a window, without indoor seating, and as such is perfect for people reluctant to leave their dog tied up outside while they order their coffee. He’s seen small dogs, big dogs, dogs in just about every color, dogs wearing accessories of all sorts.
But this. This is quite possibly one of the cutest dogs he has ever seen.
It’s small and cradled in the crook of its owner’s arm, most likely to keep it from getting lost in the snow piled up along the edge of the street. It’s brown and white, fluffy, and wearing a tiny blue winter parka complete with a hood and little white angel wings.
The dog’s owner is a guy who looks about Jimin’s age, wearing a down jacket and a beanie. The giant knit scarf around his neck is the exact same color as his dog’s parka.
It’s... endearing is the best word Jimin can think of. Endearing, and frankly adorable. Then the guy uses his free hand to pull his scarf down and wow, Jimin thinks, the puppy and outfit coordination aren’t the only adorable things about him.
“Hi,” the guy says with a bright smile. “Can I get an americano with whipped cream?”
Jimin stops his somewhat shameless staring in order to give the guy a look. An americano. With whipped cream.
Oblivious to Jimin’s silent judgment, the guy continues, “But could I get the whipped cream, like, in a separate cup? My dog really, really likes whipped cream.”
“Oh,” Jimin says. “Um.”
The truth is, giving out extra cups is something his boss is oddly particular about. Losing even a penny of profit might as well be a mortal sin, which in truth mostly leads to a bunch of grumpy customers yelling at the employees. Therefore technically Jimin isn’t supposed to give out a cup just for whipped cream. His boss isn’t here, though, and there are a cute guy and a cute dog staring at him hopefully.
So instead of turning the guy down or charging him the price for an extra cup, Jimin just smiles and says, “Sure. One americano, and one serving of whipped cream in an extra cup. Is that all for you?”
The dog – whose name is apparently Mickey – has to stick his entire face into the cup, and ends up with whipped cream all over his nose. Jimin helps the guy take a picture just before another customer approaches and Jimin has to get back to work. As Jimin gets the espresso machine running for another order of americano (this time without whipped cream) he finds himself hoping that the whipped cream loving pup and his owner stop by again sometime.
Spring
“Good morning, Sunshine!”
Jimin smiles. “Good morning yourself,” he replies without looking up from the steaming milk he’s pouring out into a cup. When he’s finished he puts a lid on the cup, and only then does he turn back to the ordering counter.
“Green tea latte,” Jimin announces, setting the finished drink down in front of the customer waiting to the left. Only once the customer has picked up her order does he allow himself to turn to the person waiting across from the register and say, “Oh look, it’s my favorite customer.”
Mr. Americano-With-Whipped-Cream, also known as Hoseok – or at least that’s how he had introduced himself the second time he came back to the coffee stand, months before – beams. Before he can reply, though, Jimin leans over to coo at the dog cradled in Hoseok’s arms.
“You’re my favorite customer, Mickey, yes you are.”
Mickey wriggles happily, having learned already that Jimin is the source of his weekly whipped cream. When Jimin glances up, Hoseok is pouting.
“That’s harsh,” Hoseok whines, making his expression as pitiful as possible. “Why do I even bother coming here?”
“Because I make the best coffee,” Jimin singsongs as he straightens and reaches for a cup to put Mickey’s whipped cream into.
About a month before Hoseok had stopped by the stand on a different day, when Jimin wasn’t working. Much to Hoseok’s perplexion, Jimin’s coworker had been thoroughly unimpressed by his request for an extra cup with whipped cream for his dog. The next time he saw Jimin, a disgruntled Hoseok had related the story and insisted that Jimin makes coffee way better anyway. Jimin fully intends to never let that go.
“Yeah, yeah,” Hoseok says, voice growing distant as he bends over to put Mickey down. Now that the snow has finally melted, MIckey can walk without fear of getting lost in the drifts. Jimin sprays the whipped cream into the cup and hands it to Hoseok, then leans his elbows on the counter to watch as Hoseok offers Mickey his treat.
The breeze is warm today and Jimin revels in it as he enjoys in the moment of peace from customers. In about an hour he’ll be run over by the lunch rush, but for now he lets himself relax.
“Hey, Sunshine. Do I get my drink?” Hoseok asks as he straightens up from his squat, empty cup in hand, and gives Jimin another pout.
“Nope,” Jimin says with smile, even as he straightens and pushes away from the counter. He’s not sure when the Sunshine thing started, exactly. Probably around the time Hoseok wheedled his age out of him and then insisted that Jimin start calling him hyung. At some point it had worked its way into their regular banter, and Jimin can’t say that he particularly minds.
“You’re a brat,” Hoseok laughs. “I hope you’re not like this with the other customers.”
"Nah, only with you,” Jimin replies. He taps the coffee down and goes to twist the portafilter into place. It only goes halfway into position before sticking.
“What, why?” Hoseok asks, feigning hurt.
Jimin frowns at the filter handle. It keeps doing this, and he keeps complaining to his boss, but she hasn’t done anything about it yet. With a sigh he untwists the handle and then screws the portafilter into the other spot and presses start.
“Because you’re my favorite customer,” Jimin finally replies, still distracted by the espresso machine, and then promptly bites his tongue. He turns to look, and Hoseok is staring at him, wide-eyed.
“I am?” Hoseok asks, as if he’s just gotten the winning numbers for the lottery and it hasn’t quite sunken in yet.
“Um,” Jimin says.
Jimin is good at the customer service thing. In fact, he’s pretty good at the people thing in general. But he likes to play on his own terms, where he’s in control of the situation. Revealing things about his personal feelings, especially things that other people can use to tease him, is not something he generally does. Unfortunately, his mouth just decided to go against all that and betray him.
“I knew it!” Hoseok exclaims gleefully. “I knew you liked me better than Mickey!” Jimin pouts, his ears warm enough that he knows he’s blushing. His expression just makes Hoseok grin more widely.
“That’s debatable,” Jimin huffs. He pops the lid onto Hoseok’s drink and sets it on the counter. “Stop gloating."
“Are you kidding?” Hoseok asks, pulling his credit card out of his phone case. “This is, like, the best day of my life. We match now! The best barista and favorite customer team.”
Jimin can’t help it. He snorts out a laugh as he takes Hoseok’s card. “Yeah, okay,” he says, swiping the card through the machine and then handing it back. “Sure.”
“Perfect,” Hoseok says. He wiggles his eyebrows as he takes the card back and it’s utterly ridiculous and Jimin dissolves into laughter. Hoseok stoops over to pick up Mickey in one hand and Mickey’s empty whipped cream cup in the other. He sets the cup on the counter in favor of picking up his own coffee.
“See you next week, Sunshine,” Hoseok says.
“Yeah,” Jimin says, stuffing the empty cup deep into the trash can where his boss hopefully won’t notice it. “See you next week.”
He’s pretty sure the warm feeling in his stomach has little to do with the spring breeze and a lot to do with Hoseok’s smile.
Summer
Jimin is going to melt into a puddle.
It’s about a million degrees and humid and he is essentially trapped in a tiny room without air conditioning. The two electric fans he has are small comfort and do little to help the sticky feeling that comes with having sweat literally rolling down his back.
And of course, precisely because it’s a million degrees and humid, everyone and their mother and their great-uncle-twice-removed wants an iced coffee. Usually Sunday mornings are fairly slow, but Jimin’s been working nonstop for the past two hours with a line of customers that replenishes just as quickly as it runs out.
So, yes, Jimin is about to melt into a puddle. He only hopes that it happens quickly, before his customer service smile cracks.
“Hi, what can I get for you?” It’s a testament to the daze Jimin’s in that he doesn’t even realize the next customer is Hoseok until the automatic greeting is already out of his mouth.
“An iced americano, please,” Hoseok says with a typical sunny smile.
“No whipped cream today?” Jimin asks.
“Nope, it’s too hot out. Mickey opted to stay at home,” Hoseok explains, pulling a face. Today instead of an arm full of Mickey he’s holding a bouquet of sunflowers. His hair, much like Jimin’s own, is pushed back off his forehead and secured in place under a snapback.
But the main thing Jimin notices is that Hoseok is wearing a tanktop and his arms are... well. They’re not super muscular like some of the guys at the gym Jimin goes to, but they’re still nice to look at. Really, really nice to look at. Jimin chalks it up to his exhaustion and general fried mental state that he spaces out for a moment, hand poised above the register to punch in Hoseok’s order, staring vaguely into the distance (which just so happens to include Hoseok’s arms).
“Earth to Jimin,” Hoseok says, waving his free hand in front of Jimin’s face and effectively snapping Jimin out of it. “You doing okay there?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Jimin says as he blinks himself back to reality. “It’s just been kind of a crazy shift.”
Hoseok frowns, eyebrows coming together with concern, but doesn’t say anything more. There’s already a line forming behind him, so Jimin finishes the transaction quickly with an apologetic smile before moving onto the next customer. He takes a few more orders before getting started on the drinks, and then loses himself in the rhythm of moving between espresso machine, refrigerator, flavor pumps, and ice machine.
It’s not until he’s finished calling out the last of the drinks and moved on to take the next order that he notices Hoseok is still standing off to the side of the stand. He’s out of the way of the other customers, tucked away into a corner of shade from the overhang, playing with the straw of his drink. Some of the condensation from his cup drips down and hits his leg, and Hoseok jumps, holding the cup away from himself to give it a look of betrayal. Jimin stifles a laugh and manages to explain to the next customer that no, it isn’t actually possible for him to make an iced americano without ice.
A few customers later and Jimin finally, finally hits a lull. He calls out the last drink, turns to take the next order, and there’s no one there. Not a single person in sight. Jimin slowly lets out the breath he’d taken in preparation for giving a greeting. He rests his elbows on the counter and cradles his head in his hands.
“You sure you’re doing okay?”
“Shit,” Jimin says, nearly jumping out of his skin and knocking over the sign board on the counter announcing the day’s specials in the process. He scrambles to grab it, but Hoseok beats him to it. He catches the sign with ease, his arm stretched out right in front of Jimin’s eyes in all its toned glory.
Jimin stares.
Hoseok rights the sign, and Jimin turns his stare up to Hoseok’s face instead, asking, “You’re still here?”
It’s kind of a dumb question, because obviously Hoseok is still here. He’s right in front of Jimin’s eyes. Unless, of course, Jimin has finally succumbed to heat stroke and is hallucinating, which he finds rather unlikely. But it’s been at least twenty minutes since Hoseok’s order was finished, and there’s no real reason for him to still be hanging around.
“Yeah,” Hoseok says. “The shade here is nice, and it’s honestly too hot to move.” The words have his usual light, joking tone but there’s something a bit off, as if he’s consciously trying to make them sound that way. His brows furrow slightly as he takes in Jimin’s sweaty and somewhat disheveled state, and it all clicks in Jimin’s head.
You stayed because you were worried about me, he almost says, but doesn’t. If Hoseok wants to pretend like it’s no big deal, Jimin can play along with that.
“What are the flowers for?” he says instead.
“There’s some sort of event over on the other side of the bus station,” Hoseok says, gesturing in the direction with a tilt of his head. “The whole street was lined with people selling flowers, so I picked some up for my landlady.”
“That’s nice of you,” Jimin says. Hoseok shrugs.
“She’s the sweetest little old lady, but her kids hardly ever come by. I try to do what I can.”
He’s so sincere, like he’s actually ready to fight this lady’s kids, and something deep down in Jimin’s stomach flutters. Hoseok, caretaker of grandmas and overworked baristas. Speaking of which–
“Have you been getting enough water? You look really flushed,” Hoseok says. He puts a concerned hand on Jimin’s arm before realizing what he’s doing and pulling back. His hand is cool from the condensation on his empty coffee cup, and Jimin tells himself that’s the only reason he wishes Hoseok had let the touch linger longer.
“I’ve been drinking tons,” Jimin lies through his teeth. “My replacement will be here any second, and I’m off in like thirty minutes. I’ll be fine.”
Hoseok hesitates for a moment longer before giving in. “If you say so,” he says, mouth still pulled down into a slight frown. Then, as if something just occurred to him, “Ah, Jimin–”
“Yeah?” Jimin asks, blinking. This is the second time today Hoseok has used his actual name, Jimin realizes. It sounds almost out of place after months of being called Sunshine. Jimin may love the nickname more than he would ever care to admit, but he also really likes the way his name sounds when Hoseok says it.
Hoseok maneuvers the bouquet in his arms so that he can take out a single stalk. He holds the flower out, then shakes it slightly when Jimin stares instead of accepting the gift.
“Some sunshine for Sunshine,” Hoseok explains as Jimin carefully grabs the stem. “Hang in there.” For a second he wraps his hands around Jimin’s and gives and encouraging squeeze before letting go.
“Thanks,” Jimin manages to get out despite the way his heart is suddenly pounding in his ears.
That day Jimin sacrifices a cup anyway, even though Mickey isn’t there. He has to wedge the cup in next to the register and let the sunflower lean against the wall to keep it from tipping over. It lives there until it wilts, and the smile that lights up Hoseok’s face when he sees it on the counter the next week more than makes up for the passive aggressive text Jimin gets from his boss about wasting supplies.
Fall
Jimin pulls the container of whipped cream out of the fridge and says, “Your hair looks nice.”
“You think so?” Hoseok asks. He runs a hand through his hair, now a nice shade of orange. It probably shouldn’t work as well as it does, but Hoseok totally pulls it off.
“Yeah,” Jimin says, spraying the whipped cream into the bottom of a cup, “You match the trees exactly.”
Hoseok splutters and then breaks into a laugh. Mickey, today sporting an assortment of multicolored clips to keep his hair out of his eyes, hears the whipped cream dispensing and begins to squirm. Hoseok has to bend to put him down. He blindly reaches out his free hand up toward the counter and Jimin obliges by handing over the cup of whipped cream. When Hoseok straightens again his hair is tousled and his cheeks are slightly flushed and he looks so good.
“My landlady said I look like a hooligan,” Hoseok says with a pout.
Jimin laughs. “Well, I think it looks nice.”
“Says the guy who dyed his hair gray.”
“Hey!” Jimin protests. “My gray hair looked amazing.”
“It did,” Hoseok agrees easily. “Honestly, though, every color looks good on you.”
And this. This is how things have been going for months now. Jimin has a very good flirting radar, he can tell with almost 100% accuracy when people are flirting with him, and Hoseok is definitely flirting. The problem is that’s all Hoseok’s done. He’s never asked for Jimin’s number, or asked if they can hang out sometime, or anything. He just comes and gets his americano and treats his dog to whipped cream and says and does all sorts of kind and sweet things that mess with Jimin’s heart and then leaves.
Jimin is fairly certain Hoseok wants to ask him out. He’s seen him muster the courage to say something a couple of times, only to back down at the last second, and at this point Jimin kind of wants to scream.
Of course, he could always make the first move. But Jimin is at work, and maybe he’s just being contrary, but he feels like he should at least make an attempt at professionalism. Shamelessly flirting with a customer is already bad enough; offering up his phone number feels like he’s crossing some sort of line.
“Thanks,” Jimin says, preening under the praise despite his internal frustration. Then, as he deftly finishes Hoseok’s drink, “Any reason for your sudden color change?”
“Acute procrastination and an existential crisis,” Hoseok says with a grimace.
Jimin hums sympathetically. He knows this is Hoseok’s last semester of university, and that he’s been really stressed out.
“So you finally decided to take your friend up on his offer?” Jimin asks. A few weeks before Hoseok had mentioned that his friend wanted them to dye their hair together and asked for Jimin’s opinion on colors, since apparently having gray hair made Jimin some sort of expert. Jimin had suggested that Hoseok try something natural to start with, but he supposes orange works too.
“Yeah, I had a breakdown over some project and thought dying my hair would help relieve the stress,” Hoseok says. He rubs the back of his neck and laughs.
“Did it help?” Jimin asks with a raised eyebrow.
“Kind of,” Hoseok says. Then he gets that mischievous twinkle in his eye that Jimin loves. “But not nearly as much as the laugh I got when my friend’s hair turned green.”
“Oh my god,” Jimin wheezes when he’s finally able to talk again after a solid minute of laughing. “Please tell me you have pictures.”
“What do you take me for?” Hoseok asks, affronted. “Of course I do.” He then proceeds to whip out his phone and unlock it (his lockscreen is a picture of Mickey) and pull up a series of pictures of his friend. They start out clear, then blur as Hoseok’s friend realizes what’s happening and makes a grab for the phone. At the end Hoseok has a series of selfies, in which he is grinning madly and his friend looks like he’s contemplating murder.
“It actually doesn’t look half bad,” Jimin says. He reaches out to swipe back to a picture Hoseok just moved past. The phone is lying between them on the counter, and their shoulders are practically touching as they lean over to look. Jimin tries not to think about it too much. “If he really hates it he could probably tone it out a bit. Or add some blue and go for aquamarine, but that will fade back to green pretty fast.”
“I think it’s actually growing on him.” Hoseok turns to give Jimin a conspiratorial grin and his face is really close and Jimin’s heart is not okay.
“Well,” Jimin says, “in the humble opinion of the guy who dyed his hair gray, I think your friend could make the green work.”
Hoseok laughs and bumps their shoulders together. Jimin may or may not let out a breathy laugh, lean into the touch. Hoseok’s phone is right there. It would be so easy for Jimin to forgo his ill-conceived professionalism and reach out, tap the contacts button at the bottom, put his number in–
Someone coughs pointedly and both Jimin and Hoseok straighten up at lightning speed. Hoseok shuffles out of the way, careful not to get tangled in Mickey’s leash, and an ahjumma shoots him a dirty look as she steps into his place.
As he takes the ahjumma’s order, Jimin watches Hoseok from the corner of his eye. Hoseok locks his phone, shoves it in his jacket pocket, and moves to pick up Mickey and the empty cup. Jimin internally sighs. Maybe next time.
Winter
Jimin would say that he hasn’t been waiting for Hoseok to show up, but that would be a lie. He’s been on edge his entire shift, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he scans the faces of everyone who approaches the counter. When eleven finally rolls around and Hoseok shows up, Mickey securely tucked into the crook of his elbow, Jimin feels like he’s about to jitter right out of his skin.
“Good morning, Sunshine,” Hoseok says. Mickey is already struggling in his grasp, knowing full well that whipped cream is on the horizon. He’s wearing the same jacket he wore the first time they stopped by the stand, with the little angel wings. Hoseok isn’t color coordinated this time, but the red knit scarf around his neck looks warm and fluffy so Jimin won’t begrudge him that.
“Hey,” Jimin replies, trying to play it cool. I have news, he wants to say, but he manages to keep it in. “Enjoying your break?”
“Yes,” Hoseok says. “All that’s left is the graduation ceremony next month, and then my internship starts right after that. I’m trying to catch up on as many TV shows as I can in the meantime. "
Mickey yips, thoroughly unimpressed by all this talk that is delaying his whipped cream. Hoseok laughs and Jimin giggles too, feeling some of the tension release from his shoulders. As Hoseok puts Mickey down and fishes around for his credit card, Jimin gets the whipped cream out. His heart squeezes as he realizes this is probably the last time he’ll get to prepare Mickey’s whipped cream for him.
Once he’s handed over Mickey’s treat, taken Hoseok’s payment, and started the espresso machine, Jimin finally allows himself to say the words he’s been holding inside for almost a week now.
“I have something to tell you,” he says. And, of course, right then someone peels away from the general flow of traffic and makes their way toward the coffee stand. Jimin curses under his breath, and Hoseok gives him a concerned look.
“I know it’s cold, but can you stick around for a bit?” Jimin asks, somewhat desperately, as he grabs Hoseok’s finished espresso and tops it off. He snaps a lid on and hands it over to Hoseok, who nods. Jimin lets out a sigh of relief and turns to serve the new customer.
In fact, he has to serve three customers before he gets another break. When all the orders are finished Hoseok is still there, standing off to the side, using his coffee cup to warm his hands as he watches Mickey struggle to lick the last dredges of whipped cream from his own cup.
“Sorry about that,” Jimin says once the last customer leaves. He props his elbows on the counter, leans forward.
“No worries,” Hoseok says, although when he turns to look Jimin’s direction he sure looks worried. “What’s up?”
“I got a new job,” Jimin finally blurts out, no longer able to contain it. He grins from ear to ear as he continues, “One of my profs offered me a research assistant position. It pays really well, and I can work on my own time as long as I get all the hours in.”
Whatever Hoseok had been expecting Jimin to say, it probably hadn’t been that. He stares for a moment, mouth slack, before breaking into a smile of his own.
“Wow, that’s so exciting!” Hoseok exclaims. “Congrats!”
“Thanks,” Jimin says with a small laugh. “I start next week.” Hoseok is nodding, encouraging him to continue, so Jimin drops the bomb, “So this is actually my last day working here.”
It’s like he’s uttered some sort of spell. Hoseok’s immediately face falls, all traces of happiness gone in an instant.
“What, really?” Hoseok asks. He looks distraught, and Jimin kind of feels like he’s just kicked a puppy or something.
“Yeah, once I start things are gonna get pretty busy,” Jimin says. “But–” he lets the word hang, and Hoseok picks up on it.
“But?” Hoseok repeats.
“I will no longer be working here,” Jimin says. Hoseok looks at him like he’s just grown a second head.
“Yes,” Hoseok says. “That’s generally how quitting works.”
“Which means I’ll no longer be an employee, interacting with you in a professional setting.”
“Yes?” Hoseok says, dragging the word out. He looks utterly confused and it’s so cute and Jimin feels giddy.
“Which means”–he pauses for effect–”if you come back in, oh, two hours or so, when I’m off shift, I can finally ask you out.”
“Oh,” Hoseok says. His mouth stays in that shape as he stares at Jimin, dumbfounded.
Jimin’s heart is pounding in his chest, in his throat, in his ears, as he continues, “Or you could save us the trouble and just ask me out now instead.”
“Oh,” Hoseok says again. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” Jimin says. “Oh.”
He watches as it sinks it, the way that Hoseok’s face changes back from confusion to elation. The way the smile spreads across his face until it’s so bright it could give the sun a run for its money. It sends a warm feeling through Jimin’s stomach, fizzy with excitement.
“So,” Hoseok says, “Jimin–”
“Yes?” Jimin interrupts, unable to help himself.
“–Sunshine, the best barista in the world,” Hoseok continues without missing a beat. “Would you like to get lunch with me after you finish your shift?”
“Yes,” Jimin breathes out. “Yes, yes, I’ve been waiting months for you to ask, yes.”
“Months?” Hoseok asks with a surprised laugh.
“Months,” Jimin confirms. “You were killing me.”
“Well, I guess I’ll just have to make it up with lots of lunches,” Hoseok says.
Jimin grins. “I would absolutely love that.”