Work Text:
Day 1:
Coffee. That was the only thought on Verso's mind as he pushed open the door to the new coffee shop that had opened in town just last week. It was still early, the sky dusted in soft purples and blues as the sun slowly started her ascent.
The smell of freshly baked bread and warm, roasted coffee hit his nose as soon as he stepped into the shop. Soft music was playing, something dreamy and soft that felt like it could transport you into a whole new reality if you closed your eyes. Inside it was warm, the cold that had been festering in Verso's bones leaving his body.
Water dripped from him as the snow quickly started to melt off his coat, his hair, and his shoes, leaving ugly brown puddles in his wake on the nice wooden floor. Wincing in sympathy for the poor employer who would have to clean up after him, Verso went to stand in line, surprisingly long for the early time. The coffee better be good.
To his luck, everything moved rather fast, and he stood in front of the counter in no time. He was expecting the tired, grumpy face of a teenager making minimum wage to pay off their college funds to greet him. Instead, he was greeted by soft eyes and brown locks. Pretty, his brain provided unhelpfully. Pushing the thought back, Verso tried miserably to concentrate on what the barista was telling him, something about almond milk and vanilla syrup.
"I'll just take a black coffee... sugar, no milk." Maybe he was imagining things no but the barista's face seemed to fall just the slightest at his dry, monotone voice and boring order.
"Coming right up," the other mumbled. His voice was like honey, but Verso was unable to concentrate on that with the underlying disappointment lingering in the air between them like a heavy blanket. This was a complete stranger working in an overpriced coffee shop, so why did he have the urge to make him smile?
Before he could ponder the question much longer, a paper cup was placed on the counter before him. The smell of a strong roast filled his nose as he took the cup. His fingers were tingling as they slowly started warming up.
"5.99 €." As Verso pulled out his card to pay, he tried for a smile, something reassuring to make up for whatever had soured the man's mood. From the other's confused face and raised eyebrow, it probably came out more like a grimace. Cursing himself, Verso stormed out of the shop before he could embarrass himself any further.
Outside, the snow had started picking up, the streets tinted in grey as the clouds hung low and absorbed all light. Moving the cup towards his face, Verso caught sight of some scrawled writing on its side, messy and written with a pen that looked like it had dried out ages ago and only still wrote because of the willpower of its user. Confused, he turned the cup fully, squinting to read what it said.
Are you French? Because Eiffel for you.
Oh. Oh, that was a really bad one. Verso felt his mouth twitch into a small smile. He glanced back over his shoulder, watching the barista talk to a young woman and smiling at her as she gave him her order. Still smiling, he turned back around, shaking his head in amusement as he made his way towards work.
Day 2:
The light snowfall had turned into a real storm, thick layers of white powder lining the streets, piling up on the sidewalks where they had been cleaned off the streets. Hands deep in his pockets, Verso pushed the door to the coffee shop open with one shoulder, a small bell ringing above his head. How has he not taken notice of that yesterday?
Unconsciously, Verso's eyes immediately fell onto the counter, unable to keep the slightest smile from making its way onto his lips as he caught sight of the barista from yesterday again. It was his shameful secret, but he had kept the cup from yesterday, now proudly displaying the pick-up line where it stood on his kitchen counter.
As he stepped up towards the counter, the other also seemed to recognise him, something passing behind his eyes that Verso could not quite put a finger on, but it caused heat to flare up on his cheek. It was really warm in here, wasn't it?
"Let me guess, same as yesterday?" The barista's voice carried none of that disappointment from yesterday. Instead, it was laced with an amused mien, a mechevois smile dancing across his face. Verso couldn't stop himself from snorting in surprise, flashing a bright smile as he leaned onto the counter.
"Why aren't we biased? Maybe I take my coffee extra sugary on Tuesdays?"
The barista pulled one eyebrow up, looking rather unimpressed.
"Do you?"
Feeling called out in a bluff, Verso took a step back, cheeks blazing with shame as he almost shamefully shook his head, desperately trying not to let show how stupid he felt. He was ridiculing himself here.
A bright, genuine smile took residence on the other's face, his eyes scanning Verso with a new sort of curiosity. He must look like an idiot, cheeks red, hair wet from melting snow, dripping water all over the shop. Before he could get lost in his thoughts, his coffee was placed before him once again. He quickly paid, almost running out of the shop, just avoiding tripping over his feet as he stepped outside.
He was already two streets down when he dared to look at his cup, ashamed of himself for hoping for another pickup line. The relieved breath that left him when he saw the black letters scrawled across the white paper was truly pitiful.
Do you believe in love at first sight, or maybe you should walk in again tomorrow?
Verso laughed out loud, gaining a few questioning looks from other passersby.
Day 10:
It had stopped snowing. The sun reflected off the snow still left on the streets, in the trees and between the houses. The line was so long this time that it reached outside of the coffee shop and onto the street, tired faces lining the sidewalk. Verso stood just inside, barely fitting into the small shop, the woman before him stepping on his foot for what felt like the hundredth time in the last five minutes.
Everything was moving too slowly for his liking, his mood souring with every passing second, not even the music could calm him. Finally, it was the woman's turn. She stepped up towards the counter, where, to Verso's delight, the barista with the worst penmanship this side of the world stood, bright smile and honeyed voice like all the other days so far. A warmth flooded him, his sour mood slowly lifting.
The woman was still studying the menu when their eyes met. Verso gave an annoyed eye roll, which the other countered with the prettiest smile he had ever seen before. The woman was saying something, probably her order, but the barista's eyes were still focused on Verso and wasn't that something? Verso felt like the sun could explode next to him, and he would not have cared as long as those eyes stayed on him.
The woman cleared her throat, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor, and finally snapped out of it, Verso averting his glance towards the floor but not before catching sight of the prettiest blush gracing the other's ears and cheeks. Almost rushing to get the woman's order out waited until it was finally his turn. As he stepped up towards the counter, he couldn't help the soft laugh escaping him.
"As always?"
"You know it," Verso grinned, revelling in the others' laugh as he turned to make his order. The line was growing longer and longer behind him, the small shop unbearable with so many bodies packed into it. His cup was placed before him. As Verso gave over the money, their fingers brushed for just a moment, liquid gold running down Verso's spine and leaving behind a different kind of warmth.
The cool air hit his face, quickly getting rid of the uncomfortable heat clinging to him. Without waiting any longer, he turned his cup, heart skipping a beat when he read the quickly written message.
If you were a triangle, you’d be an acute one.
-Gustave <3
It took Verso an embarrassingly long time to get the pick-up line, thoughts running laps around the name written on his cup. Face wide open with honest shock, he turned back to stare through the window into the coffee shop, coffee cup clutched between two hands. He caught the baristas- Gustaves'- eyes, the other searching his face before winking, grin so big it could outshine the sun.
Day 21:
When Verso strolled into the coffee shop, he was already smiling the brightest smile he had worn in a very long time. Gustave stood behind the counter, the same bright smile on his lips. There was flour all over his apron and some in his hair. Verso couldn't stop himself from grinning even brighter when he saw the white streaks matching those in his own hair so well. In the blink of an eye, he could almost imagine an older Gustave, grey hairs streaking his hair and beard as he soaked up the sun, and wouldn't that be a sight to behold?
Verso found his spot at the counter and could almost imagine an indent of his feet in the floor. He leaned over, fingers drumming a rhythm he didn't recognise into the cold stone slab beneath them. Gustave reached behind himself, pulling a cup forward and sliding it into the other's waiting hands. With no shame, Verso immediately checked for the message.
They have become such a constant thing in his life, something to brighten up his days, he could barely imagine a world where they weren't a part of it anymore, could barely imagine a world where he did not start his morning with the sight of Gustave's face.
You must be tired… because you’ve been running through my mind all day.
"You're unbelievable, you know that, right?"
Gustave simply let out a huffed laughter as he mixed another coffee for the next customer.
Day 25:
Something was off, different. Something was missing. The moment Verso stepped into the coffee shop, he knew what it was. After 25 days in a row, there was no Gustave to greet him behind the counter; instead, a dark-haired woman was working, frothing up milk where she stood.
Slowly walking up towards the counter, Verso couldn't quite swallow down the disappointment that was lodging itself in his throat, his world tilting on its axis. The woman looked up from what she was doing, giving him a crude nod, nothing compared to the bright smiles he had gotten so used to, had started to take for granted.
"What can I do for you?" The woman asked, having turned her back towards him once again as she grabbed a cup from behind her.
"Is Gustave not working?"
Surprised, she turned back around, eyes studying him, wheels turning inside her head. A knowing look replaced the surprise.
"He turned in sick. What can I get for you?"
The coffee didn't taste half as good that day.
Day 26:
Or the one after that.
Day 30:
Or those following.
Day 33:
His mood was down. He knew it was stupid, getting so upset just because his usual barista wasn't around. But over a month, Gustave had become more than just his barista. He was a bright spot in his loomy day, a reason to laugh when everything else was dull. Who would have thought that the way to a man's heart was coffee and corny pick-up lines.
As Verso pushed open the door to the coffee shop, he was surprised when he immediately collided with someone else. Annoyed, he wanted to bite out some rude comment about looking where one was going, but the words died in his throat when he looked up and was met with soft eyes and the brightest smile this side of the world.
Gustave stood right in front of him, two cups of coffee in his hands. Flushing Verso stood up straight, trying and failing at fixing his jacket.
"Hey-" He croaked, voice coming out weaker than he had intended. Gustave looked just as sheepish as he held out one of the cups for Verso to take. With shaky hands, he took the beverage, the paper so hot he almost burned his hands.
"Hi," Gustave looked anywhere but at Verso.
"Where have you been?"
"How are you?"
Both stopped talking, looking at one another for a long moment before no longer being able to stop their smiles from spreading across their faces. To have something to do with his hands, Verso started unconsciously twisting the cups in his hands, stunned when he caught sight of black letters against the white cup. He looked back at Gustave, who had found a great interest in his shoe laces, face bright pink, and the grip on his own cup of coffee tight enough to wrinkle it.
Verso couldn't help the unbelieving laugh leaving him as he read the writing, palms suddenly sweaty and ears hot.
Do you like raisins? How do you feel about a date?
He caught Gustave's eyes, trying to keep his face open and honest.
"Gladly," he smiled shyly, acting like he did not hear the relieved sigh Gustave let out as they made their way towards one of the tables at the very back of the small shop.