Chapter Text
Martin doesn’t hate working at a coffee shop. He means, sure, the management seems a little slapdash and has a tendency to schedule shifts that overlap a maximum of fifteen minutes. The training was a little quick maybe, but he gets it. Small businesses have to cut costs where they can to remain competitive. He switched his business major to an english degree after his first semester, but he got that much out of it. So it’s not like he’s going to say anything to his supervisor.
… Still. In the privacy of his mind, he can admit that the eight hour opening shift is a little hellish.
It’s five thirty am on a Wednesday. They’ve been open half an hour and no one’s even walked by the store front. Martin, who maybe had had a zombie movie marathon the night before, can’t shake the feeling of being the only person left in the world. He clutches his coffee closer and takes a fortifying sip.
Extra large mocha with marshmallows, a caramel shot, whip cream and more caramel drizzled on top. Normally he’d be too self conscious to make it, but. Well. He has class after his shift ends, so he’ll stumble back to his dorm at around six, and then he’s got his readings, a test at the end of the week to study for as well as a paper due.
So. Extra large comfort drink. Besides, it’s not like anyone ever comes in before sev-
The bell above the door jingles.
Martin stares, mouth agape.
Three of possibly the drunkest university students Martin has ever seen stumble in, laughing uproariously. He doesn’t say that lightly; working in a coffee shop near a university means he has seen his fair share of drunken students. But this. This is something he’s never seen before.
It is five thirty am on a Wednesday.
The least drunk of the lot, which isn’t a high bar to start with, stumbles up to the counter and squints up at the menu. He’s offensively jock-y and tall. Martin nearly locks up out of sheer high school fueled muscle memory.
After a painful pause where Martin is sure he’s going to have to read the menu to the guy, he slurs out, “I’ll…. Have a coffee. Biggest y’got.”
Martin nods uncertainly. The jock pats his pockets and pulls out a tenner, though, so… it’s probably fine? He rings up the order.
The jock lurches back suddenly and Martin jerks forwards to catch him but- oh. He’s just turned to yell at his friends.
“What’d’you want?” He yells, though the shop is small enough that it’s not really necessary.
The other two are busy giggling as the woman tries to hold up the other man, mostly unsuccessfully. The guy looks up through a messy mop of dark curly hair and stops dead, staring at Martin. His mouth falls open a little which is a little charming, maybe.
“Jooooooon,” The jock whines impatiently. “Jooon what’d’ya waaaant?”
“Him!” Jon blurts, and Martin goes red so fast he nearly blacks out.
Look! Look, in his defense, the guy is- Jon is- he’s attractive, even as sloshed as he is, and Martin knows that it is very much the alcohol talking and not actually genuine, it’s still- weirdly flattering? And. The name jogs his memory and suddenly Martin’s very aware that this is Jon, as in Jon one of his TAs in his Thursday’s eight am history class, as in Jon the only reason Martin survives that class somedays because he’s clever, and has a surprisingly dry sense of humor, and is maybe really cute. Who Martin’s maybe been nursing a crush on for the past semester.
“I’m- not for sale?” His mouth says, which is… terrible. He finds a way to go redder.
Jon makes a disappointed sound, which is hopelessly cute. The jock looks slightly more sober and concerned.
“Sorry,” he says, and smacks a hand against his face. “Eurgh, Jon. Don’t hit on the employees, that’s skeevy. You’re not a skeevy drunk.”
Jon nods seriously. “No, Imma disa- dissass- disassponment.” To Martin’s horror, Jon’s eyes look a little shiny at the pronouncement.
“No!” The jock, the woman, and Martin say immediately. The woman smacks him upside the head gently.
The jock turns back to Martin apologetically. “Sorry. Our friend’s a degree'n a half inna program’n’just realised is- it’s shit.”
Martin winces. The jock nods. “Went, maaaaaybe a lil overboard tryin’a cheer him up. So. Coffee?”
“I’ve still only got your order.” Martin points out.
“Right!” The jock swivels around again. “Jon! Sasha! What’d you waaant? ‘Nd nooo Jon you can’t have a person.”
“Extra large, two sugars, no cream, shot of espresso, please and thank you Tim!” Sasha says, remarkably coherent, and Martin dutifully adds it to the order before chancing a look at Jon.
His nose is scrunched up. It’s adorable. Martin is dying. “I dun like coffee.” He says petulantly.
Martin, who has never seen Jon enter their history class without a coffee cup, very much doubts that.
Tim’s brow furrows. “Yes y’do. Y’drink it so much.” He says, echoing Martin’s thoughts.
Jon shakes his head. “No. Dun like it. Issa nece- necesss- like a medicine. Need it, dun like it.”
Tim and Sasha look dumbfounded. Martin chews his lip.
“I don’t like coffee much either,” he says. “I could make you my regular order?”
Jon beams at Martin. “Yes please!” Martin… doesn’t go into cardiac arrest, but it’s a near thing.
He finishes ringing up their order, stealthily gives them his employee discount, gets Tim his change and goes to start making up their drinks with burning red ears.
The three stagger their way to a table. There’s the occasional burst of laughter, but beyond that Martin tries not to listen too closely. He makes up their order quickly, as well as three cups of water. Takes a moment to settle himself, and then brings the drinks over on a tray.
The three chorus thank you’s (to varying degrees of success) as he sets out the drinks. Martin goes to give Jon his drink, and Jon grabs his wrist loosely before he can pull away.
“Jon,” Tim says warningly.
“No,” Jon shakes his head wonderingly. “No, is just. ‘M pretty sure you’re the love o’ my life.” He blinks slowly. “Your eyes are really nice. You’re really nice.”
Martin carefully disentangles his hand. “Thank you? And enjoy your drinks?” He makes his escape and manages not to run to the backroom, which he’s very proud of.
He needs a lie down.