Archive of Our Own ^beta

The bell chimes with the opening of the door. 

“Welcome.” Her familiar voice sends a shiver up your spine. 

She stands proudly behind the counter. The smell of coffee drifts through the air but her perfume, oh her perfume , permeates through it all. 

“Twice in one day? You must really like coffee. Or is it me?” She says, in an amused tone of voice. You could hear the corners of her lips curl. 

You laugh nervously, awkwardly. Your eyes pinball between her and the floor, before finally landing back on her again. You take a big breath. 

“Can’t it be both?” You’re glad there’s no other customers here or you wouldn’t have dared try anything so valiant.

Her smile falters slightly. Almost unnoticeable but you’ve stared at her face long enough to detect the change.

“Well then, my favourite customer. Are you getting your usual again? Or would you like something special , barista’s recommendation?”

“Your recommendation, please.” You weren’t sure whether it was the adrenaline from your reply earlier, but you were feeling particularly brave. 

It had been about time. Several months of coming here daily, several months of staring at her as she worked, and too many visits of watching her give the same smile she gave to you to other customers. One could only endure it so much. Today was the day. 

Or at least you hoped.

A playful smile spreads across her lips. She walks towards the door, flipping the sign to ‘Closed’ and locking it. 

Before you’re able to question or protest, she places a finger to her lips.

“I own the place so I’m allowed to do what I want. Have a seat, dear customer .” She motions to the table behind you, the one that gives you full view of her as she works. You wordlessly comply. 

You watch her take some beans and weigh them before placing them into the grinder. The machine whirrs to life with a press of a button and deposits the fine grind into an awaiting tin. She grabs some scales and rests a short, glass jug on it. Atop the jug, a cone-shaped cup is placed and a paper filter inserted. Hot water from a kettle with a strange spout rinses the filter before the ground coffee is added. You hear a small beep before she begins pouring from the kettle in hypnotic circles.

All her actions are a mystery, but you’re mesmerized by every bit. From the way that her hands move with such fluidity and confidence, to the steely look of concentration in her eyes. 

Bewitched, you jump when she speaks.

“So, how’s work going for you, Chief ?” You grimace at the title. Maybe you regret bringing your assistant along that one time. 

“It’s going… fine, I suppose.” You stare at the liquid dripping out from the cone into the carafe below.

“That bad, huh?” She chuckles, all the while her hands move steadily and her eyes remain fixated on the coffee before her.

Luckily, she didn’t push the topic any further.

Luckily, she was so enchanting. 

As she finishes pouring, she removes the cone, elegantly swirling the liquid within the jug. Setting it aside, she repeats the process another two times.

Your gaze drifts to her face. A strand of hair falls from behind her ear but she pays it no mind. You’re so enthralled, that you don’t realise she’s done until she’s standing before you, two trays in hand.

“Here.” She places them down, three identical cups atop, accompanied by a side of sparkling water.

She sits in the chair across from you, one leg crossing over the other. 

"Each cup contains the three different brews I just made. Have a taste, and let me know what you think." 

You pick up the glass on the left and she mirrors your actions. 

You both take a sip. Tastes like… coffee. 

You glance over and find her studying you over the rim of her cup. What face should you be making? Should you be saying anything? 

You’re saved by her expertise. “Sparkling water is used as a palate cleanser. Drink some to refresh your taste buds before you try the next one.” 

You silently mouth your understanding, drinking the water in acknowledgement. 

Again, your actions are copied as you taste the cup in the middle. 

Oh.  

The taste is smooth and clean. Compared to the first cup, the floral and fruity notes are more pronounced with a subtle sweetness lingering.

“Your face says it all,” she laughs softly, “it’s nothing like the first one, is it?”

“They’re almost completely different. The first one tasted bland and this one is so… acidic?” You lack the vocabulary to describe it. She hums, seemingly pleased.

“Time for lucky last then.”

You both pick up the last glass.

It’s sweet, inexplicably sweet. The same flavour notes from number two are still present but they are dwarfed by the confectionery-esque taste. 

“All three of those are the same beans, same grind size, same quantity and ratio. The only difference is the method in which I used to brew them.” She gestures vaguely at the half empty cups before you. 

You’re amazed, baffled. There’s something truly captivating about being able to witness her flaunt her wealth of knowledge.

“Which one’s your favourite?” 

It’s a hard question, torn between cup two and cup three. 

“This one.” You tap the rim of the third cup after much consideration. “As much as I enjoyed the second one, I prefer the sweetness of this one more.”

“The first one was no good then?” She fakes a hurt tone. 

“No, no, no, it’s not like that-” Her laugh cuts you off mid sentence. Played, once again.

There’s a beat of silence.

“So Chief , what brought you in here today? A second visit from you is rare, if unheard of.” She looks straight at you, holding your stare with her piercing eyes.

“Well, work being work and all, I really needed more coffee.” 

“You didn’t go to see another barista instead of me, did you?” She feigns offense but you swear you sense genuine betrayal.

“I would never. Just crappy, burnt office coffee. You’re the only barista for me.” You find yourself resolving the potential misunderstanding with incredible speed.

“I’m the only one for you? I’m flattered.” 

A pause. 

“Well…” There’s obviously something between the two of you. Right? Normal people don’t, you know, flirt. You look down, fiddling with the cup between your hands. 

“I-” Your bravery from earlier has long subsided and in its stead a nervous trainwreck, much to your dismay.

“I-” Of all times for your brain to stop working, it had to be now. 

“-Like you.” 

That wasn’t you. That didn’t come out of your mouth. Your gaze flicks up.

“And I like you too.” She’s smiling, that same charmingly sweet smile.

Your heart nearly stops, from shock or humiliation, you can’t tell. 

This woman.

“You could’ve saved me the breath.” You joke awkwardly, her smile widening in response. 

“Then I wouldn’t get to see you all hot and bothered. It’s awfully entertaining to see you flustered, not to mention cute.”

You're not sure if it’s the coffee in your system that’s making you buzz. She tucks a fallen strand of hair behind your ear.

Yep. Definitely the coffee. 

“For how long?” Despite the ‘flirting’ there always was a seed of doubt that you were reading too deeply, longing for something that simply was not there. 

“Long enough.” 

You furrow your brows at the answer.

“A few months.” Sensing your dissatisfaction, she chuckles.

She reads you like an open book and continues.

“I thought you had noticed the hearts I had been making for you on your drinks.” 

Oh. You had noticed them but you thought she treated everyone the same. 

She stands abruptly.

“Stay there.” She commands as she walks behind the counter once again. 

The grinder whirrs to life but this time she stands behind the espresso machine. Her movements are graceful yet efficient. The sounds of her working are comforting, especially after the experience she had just graced you with. 

No less than 3 minutes later, she returns. This time holding a saucer with a cup delicately perched on it. 

As she lowers it into your view, you spot a detailed pattern in white, poured into the golden coffee.

“A rose…” It’s beautiful. Intricate and complicated, yet recognisable and breathtaking. 

“I hope this is enough of a sign for you, Chief .” If you weren’t red before, you were definitely red now. 

You don’t even want to imagine how blindly oblivious you’d be had she not been so straightforward. 

“How did I do?”

Fantastic. Ecstatic. Over the moon with an adrenaline rush. 

“Great.” You wince the moment the word leaves your mouth. Smooth.

“I meant that I greatly appreciate the transparency and your time, effort and affection and-”

Your rambling is cut short by loud ringing from your phone. You glance at the caller and sigh before answering. 

“Yes, Nightinga-” The panicked voice is loud and you pull the phone away from your ear. 

“Okay, okay. Calm down. I’m coming back.” You sigh as you hang up the call.

You look up apologetically but she gives you an understanding smile.

“Well then, same time next week?” You joke, as you hurriedly gather yourself.

“I was thinking, dinner this Friday.” 

It was a date.