Chapter Text
It’s only an hour into his shift, and Grian is already ready to go home.
“Griaaaaaan, could you do me a huge favor?” calls a voice from out in front. Grian groans. It’s his boss, Cleo. He’s been trying to hide in the back room for as long as possible, dishrag in hand as he pretends to clean, but it seems like he is needed. Sighing, he straightens up and saunters out front, the question of what’s needed on his lips, until he sees who’s standing on the other side of the counter.
Cleo smirks at him knowingly, but he barely notices her. Instead, he takes in the sight of their customer, a tall, but nervous-looking man in a white hoodie with the hood pulled up and jeans with little smears of paint down the front. He has raven curls that spill out of the front of his hood, a pale face with pink cheeks, and a pair of round, wire-framed glasses that perch on the bridge of his aquiline nose, above an impressive mustache. His eyes smile through the glasses, and Grian realizes that they’re the brightest green eyes he thinks he’s ever seen, and his heart just about melts.
In other words, this man, being tall, mysterious, and incredibly cute, is exactly Grian’s type, and he realizes with a silent curse that Cleo probably knows that, especially if the look on her face is any indication.
Cleo, still grinning, flicks a pale finger at the man. “Could you wait on this gentleman? I just realized I forgot to put in the order for caramel syrup, and the supplier closes soon.” She winks, and Grian wants to bury himself alive. She’d already put in the syrup orders yesterday . And their supplier isn’t open at all on weekends either. God. He’s so obvious.
“Yeah, sure,” he says lightly. He forces himself to smile pleasantly at her in front of the customer, though he lets her see the murder in his eyes. She just smiles wider, unfazed.
“Okay!” she says sweetly. “Thank you!” She ducks into the back as if to leave him alone, but from the sound of the door he hears, she’s actually making herself comfortable in her office to spy on him over the security cameras. Of fucking course. He just barely refrains from rolling his eyes as he turns to the customer.
“Sorry about that,” he says, feeling warm again. How can a human being be so fucking cute? he wonders, especially more so when the man’s hand comes up to rub sheepishly at the back of his neck and he laughs quietly, a goofy little high-pitched chuckle.
“It’s alright,” the man says softly, laughter still bubbling in his voice. “I don’t need to be anywhere today, so I have time to stick around.”
“Great!” Grian says, then mentally smacks himself. Too eager. “What can I get for you?”
“Can I get an iced mocha with soy milk and triple espresso please?” he says, ordering with ease like he gets the same order often. “And maybe throw in a croissant,” he adds, grinning as he proudly pronounces the name of the pastry in a bizarre way that makes Grian giggle.
“Of course,” Grian says, still giggling. “Can I have a name for that order?” he asks cheekily. Instantly, the man’s cheeks go pinker than before.
“I-It’s Jess,” he stutters.
Grian frowns slightly. That was a lie.
Why would he lie?
“Alright, coming right up,” Grian says, trying to forget about it as he starts to make the drink. He clears his throat. “Must’ve been a rough night, if you’re ordering triple espresso with nowhere to be today.”
Not-Jess looks at his feet. “I own my own business, so sometimes things go… weird,” he says, wincing.
“Oh,” Grian says. Pour, mix, measure… almost done. Grian likes to make things, and as much as he hates working at a coffee shop, he has to admit that making drinks by hand is very relaxing. “Weird as in the employees being difficult, like me?” He grins, and earns another snort of a laugh.
“No, no,” Not-Jess says, shaking his head. “Just a rival company giving me a little bit of trouble. I’ve been doing better than them lately, and they don’t like that.”
“Well maybe they should take the stick out of their arses then,” Grian snarks. Not-Jess blinks, then bursts out laughing, snorting every so often in an undignified and adorable way, gripping the counter.
Grian bites his lip as he takes a croissant out of the case and puts it on a paper plate, then snaps a lid onto the mocha and writes his own name and his phone number on the cup with a permanent marker, Not-Jess still shivering with uncontrollable giggles. He rubs his eyes, the laughs trickling off, and gasps for air as he attempts to get his bearings again.
“Sorry,” he wheezes, beaming. “I just— that was— I would pay to see someone tell that to their faces.”
Grian smiles. “That sounds like a terrible idea, but I approve,” he jokes, then gestures to the coffee and the pastry. “Here you go, a croissant and a drink just as sweet as you,” he says bravely with a little wink, then watches as scarlet blooms across the man’s face and he starts to sputter.
“I— uh—“ He digs through his pocket, withdrawing far too many bills, and slides them onto the counter as he takes his coffee and his croissant. “Keep the change, thank you,” he stutters, looking away, and darts off to a corner booth. Grian chuckles under his breath. Such a strange man.
Now all he has to do is figure out this cute, weird, generously-tipping stranger’s real name.