Work Text:
To say your shift was dragging was an understatement. You were almost at the point where you believed the clock above the door was ticking away at half speed just to mess with you. The heavens had decided to open up as soon as you clocked in which meant most of your potential customers were hurrying past outside, huddled under umbrellas with heads down just trying to get to where they needed to go.
The devil attacks that were all over your social media feed probably didn’t help either. Not that you had resorted to doomscrolling on shift or anything.
You lifted your gaze away from your phone to watch the rain outside. It’d just be your luck if it didn’t stop when it was time for you to go home either. You stood up straight from leaning against the counter and slipped your phone into your pocket.
“Maybe I can make a new drink recipe?” you mused to yourself. Literally anything had to be better than watching the clock.
You turned to look at the assortment of syrups on the shelves behind you and then the bell over the door gave a sharp jangle as someone pushed inside. You almost made yourself dizzy with how fast you span back around. Finally, something to do.
The first thing you noticed was the blood.
Not a lot of it, not like some horror movie where the final girl is absolutely drenched in it but enough for you to pause in greeting the customer. It darkened the collar of his shirt and was splattered up the front. There was also a dry, rusty smear of it along his jaw and up his cheek.
The second thing you noticed was how the boy stood awkwardly in the doorway as if he was waiting for you to kick him out. He was around your age, maybe a little bit younger with messy blonde hair, sharp teeth and tired eyes.
For one long second, neither of you said anything. You were painfully aware of how quiet it was besides the sound of the rain pattering against the front windows.
Then the boy blinked at you.
His eyes widened and not subtly either.
“Whoa.”
You stared back at him and he continued to stare at you.
Then, very slowly he lifted a hand and pointed at his own face.
“Is there, uh...” He rubbed at his cheek, smearing around the blood that had dried there. “Is there a bunch of gross crap on me?”
“Maybe a little.” You tilted your head as you looked at where he had absolutely rubbed the blood in and made it look a whole lot worse.
“Damn.”
He looked down at himself, frowned then seemed to remember he’d walked into an actual business. His eyes flicked up and landed on the display case full of cupcakes and pastries with an almost painful longing in them.
“Are you hurt?”
“Huh?” His gaze landed back on you. “Oh. Nah. Not my blood. Mostly.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
He grinned.
It was most definitely not reassuring.
“Devil blood.”
Right. Average day in Tokyo. That explained a lot.
“You’re with Public Safety?”
He puffed up a little at that like you had just called him famous.
“Yep, that’s me. Devil Hunter Denji” He grinned again.
You had no idea why or how a boy your age was a devil hunter and honestly you did not want to ask. Really you had no clue how devil hunting even worked. Did they take interns? Maybe he’s an intern.
“Well,” you said carefully, “Do you want to order something oh brave and powerful devil hunter?”
His mouth opened.
Then shut.
Then opened again.
His eyes darted from the menu above you to your face to the cake display to your face then back to the menu before finally settling back on your face. His ears went pink.
He looked away fast. You tried not to smile.
“Uh.” He cleared his throat. “”What’s the cheapest thing you got?”
“Just plain filter coffee.”
“Does it taste good?”
“It tastes like coffee.”
He squinted at you, a suspicious look creeping onto his face. “Is coffee supposed to taste good?”
“That depends on who you ask.”
“I had it once and it tasted like burnt dirt.”
“That sounds like bad coffee.”
“So, your dirt tastes better?”
At that you couldn’t help but smile.
You watched as Denji’s entire body stiffened, his eyes widened as they dropped down to your mouth.
“Oh.” He said under his breath.
You tilted your head. “You okay?”
“Yep.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Just....” He swallowed. “You’re really pretty.”
He said the words like he had just discovered an interesting fact and he needed to share it immediately. Heat rose to your cheeks before you could even attempt to stop it.
Denji seemed to realize what he said about two seconds too late. His face went red.
“I mean..Not like... I wasn’t trying to be weird! Or maybe I was? No, wait that sounds worse.” He dragged both hands down his face then immediately looked down at the dried blood on them and looked mortified. “Crap. Did I just make my face grosser?”
You laughed.
It slipped out before you could stop it, soft and surprised.
Denji froze again.
“You’re fine.” You said, “Face definitely isn’t gross. Far from it.”
His shoulders loosened the smallest fraction.
“Cool,” he said in what you assumed was an attempt at a nonchalant voice. Then after a second, “Do pretty girls usually laugh when guys are covered in devil blood?”
“Only when they say weird things.”
“Oh.” He seemed to consider what you said for a short moment. “So if I say more weird things, you’ll laugh again?”
“I wouldn’t recommended using that as a strategy.”
“Damn.”
You turned your back to him before you smile could get even wider, starting to adjust the expresso machine. “Do you want something sweet? If you don’t like plain coffee, I can make you a latte. It has milk.”
He perked up at the mention of milk.
“And syrup, if you want.” You gestured behind you to the rows of syrup bottles lined up neatly on the shelves above your head.
His eyes narrowed like this was a trap. “How much extra?”
“Usually? Fifty yen.”
His face fell.
“But” You said softly, glancing around the empty shop, “I can forget to charge you this time.”
Denji’s expression changed so fast it almost hurt to look at. Suspicion and confusion flickered across his face as if he wasn’t used to a small act of kindness without it having some kind of catch.
“Why?”
The question came out too blunt.
You softened your voice. “Because you kinda look like you’ve had a bad day.”
He gave a short laugh.
“You should have seen the other guy though.” He let out a low whistle.
“Then definitely syrup.”
His grin came back, crooked and genuine.
You grabbed a cup and started to write his name on it. Denji leaned over the counter to watch you work. You felt your face start to heat up under his focus.
“Whoa, your handwriting’s nice.”
“It’s just your name.”
“Yeah but it looks all fancy like when you do it.”
You shook your head, still blushing and started making the drink.
Denji did not move away from the counter and instead he watched everything. The cup. Your hands. The machine. The caramel syrup as you pumped it into the bottom of the cup,
And every so often, your face. Every time you glanced over and caught him looking at you, he panicked and looked deeply interested in the cake display instead.
“Do you want whipped cream?” you asked
His head snapped up.
“That’s an option?”
“Yes.”
“For coffee?”
“No. For me.” You shook your head smiling. “Of course, for the coffee.”
At your words Denji let out a small choking sound and suddenly seemed very interested in what type of material the counter was made from. It took a second for you to process what you’d actually said to him. You froze for a moment as you screamed internally.
“SO! Whipped cream...for your coffee?” You voice came out way too enthusiastically and high pitched.
“Yes. Yeah. Absolutely. A mountain of it.”
“You’ll need a lid.”
“No lid. I wanna see it.”
Your eyes flicked back to the rain outside that had absolutely not let up. “You’re taking it outside in the rain.”
“I’ll protect it with my life.”
You pressed your lips together, trying and failing to hide your smile as you topped the drink. You might have been more careless than usual. A little extra syrup. A generous swirl of cream. A dusting of cocoa powder you pretended was standard.
When you handed it to him, Denji accepted it with both hands. His fingers brushed yours.
Barely.
His eyes jumped to yours. He looked startled like even that tiny little touch had short circuited something in him.
Then he looked down at the drink, face red again.
“Thanks,” he muttered.
“You’re welcome.”
He lifted the cup and took an enormous sip.
“Careful, it’s—”
He stopped.
His eyes went wide.
For one horrible moment, you thought he had burned his tongue.
Then he made a sound so delighted and sincere that you couldn’t hold back your smile or the way your heart flopped around behind your ribcage.
“Oh my god.” His words came out slow, dazed with pleasure.
You leaned against the counter. “Good?”
He stared into the cup like it held someone unknown secret to the universe he’d just discovered.
“This is the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.”
The silence that followed was immediate.
Denji blinked.
You blinked.
Denji’s face went crimson.
“I meant the coffee!” he shouted. “The coffee! Not...I wasn’t.. I mean, I haven’t had a lot of stuff, so maybe that makes it sound weirder, but I mean this is seriously good!”
You had to turn away, shoulders shaking.
“Stop laughing,” he groaned, but there was no real bite in it.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“No,” you admitted, “I’m not.”
He groaned again, but when you glanced back, he was smiling into the rim of his cup.
The bell above the door jingled.
A tall man in a neat suit stepped inside, holding a soaked folded umbrella and wearing an exhausted expression.
His eyes landed on Denji. Then on you. Then the mountain of whipped cream in Denji’s cup.
“Denji” he said flatly,
Something like sadness flickered across Denji’s face.
“Oh. Hey, Aki.”
The man’s gaze moved to you. He looked apologetic under whatever exhaustion he was carrying.
“Sorry if he caused any trouble.”
“He didn’t.” You frowned slightly. You didn’t like that was his immediate assumption when Denji had been nothing but sweet.
Denji pointed at you with the hand holding his cup. “See? I didn’t.”
“You’re covered in blood.”
“It’s not hers.”
Aki pinched the bridge of his nose.
You coughed to hide another laugh.
Denji noticed. Of course he did. His expression brightened like a dog hearing the word walk.
Aki looked at the cup. “Did you pay?”
Denji went still.
His eyes slid toward you.
You lifted one finger to your lips.
A secret.
Denji stared at you.
Then, slowly he smiled.
“Yeah” he lied badly. “Totally paid.”
Aki sighed like a man carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He reached into his pocket, pulled out some coins, and placed them on the counter.
“For whatever he got. And the trouble.”
“There wasn’t any trouble,” you said.
Aki looked unconvinced.
Denji leaned closer to the counter, lowering his voice as if Aki could not hear him from two feet away.
“Hey” he said. “Do you work here all the time?”
“Most days.”
“So if I came back, you’d be here?”
“Maybe.”
“Cool.” He nodded to himself, serious now. “Then I’ll come back.”
Your heart did a dumb little skip behind your ribs.
“I hope you come back with less blood on you.”
He looked down at himself again.
“Right. Yeah. I can do that.”
Aki made a noise that suggested Denji absolutely could not do that.
Denji ignored him.
He took another sip of the latte, got whipped cream on his upper lip, and didn’t notice in the slightest.
You grabbed a napkin and held it out.
“You’ve got…”
He leaned forward automatically.
For some reason, instead of handing it to him, you reached across the counter and wiped the cream from his lip yourself.
It was quick. Barely anything.
But Denji stopped breathing.
His eyes went round.
You pulled your hand back.
“There” you said softly.
Denji stared at you like you’d just descended from the heavens above.
Aki cleared his throat.
“We’re leaving.”
“Yeah” Denji said, not moving.
“Now.”
“Yeah.”
Still, he lingered.
Then he took one step backward. Then another. His gaze stayed on you the entire time, as if looking away might make you disappear.
At the door, he stopped. The rain waited outside, grey and cold. Neon signs blurred in the wet glass. Aki had already opened his umbrella.
Denji turned back one last time.
“Hey!”
You looked up.
“I meant it when I said you’re really pretty.”
You grinned back at him before slyly replying "You're pretty too Denji"
You could see his brain start to process what you had just said.
Then Aki grabbed the back of his collar and hauled him out into the rain.
The bell jingled behind them.
Through the window, you watched Denji stumble, complain, then immediately lift the latte with both hands to shield it from the drizzle. He hunched over it protectively, as promised, while Aki scolded him all the way down the street.
Just before they disappeared around the corner, Denji looked back.
When he saw you still watching, he nearly tripped over his own feet.
You laughed again. Loudly this time now there was nobody else to hear it.
And even from inside the coffee shop, behind the rain-streaked glass, you saw him smile.