Chapter Text
The beginning of November never failed to irritate the every-living fuck out of Katsuki. Cafes and coffee shops across the world came out with their winter menus. He couldn’t go a single block without some advertisement for Peppermint this or Sugar Cookie that. It didn’t help that over the last few years he’d tried every cafe and coffee shop in the area in the vain attempt to find one that didn’t prioritize the sugar content of every flavored drink they ever made.
He had all but given up relying on external sources for his winter comfort drink when Kaminari mentioned Freezerburn Cafe. The best spiced drinks he’d ever tasted, barring Katsuki’s handmade blends. Katsuki had snorted at the notion. “And the barista isn’t hard to look at either,” the electric blond had joked.
Of course Katsuki wasn’t going to take that airhead at his word, he’d researched the reviews. Not many in general but even the negative ones said the drinks were good. The main complaint being a dark-haired employee dampening the atmosphere. That didn’t bother him, he didn’t have to stay to judge the drinks for himself. So he blocked off an afternoon.
The place was nearly deserted when Katsuki stepped into the cafe, bell tinkling above the door. The only occupant was a split-dyed barista. He was offered a monotone greeting and met at the register. Upon closer, scrutinizing inspection the dyed hair was natural. The man had heterochromia as well. And Kaminari did have taste in men if not beverages because the barista was, in fact, very good-looking. He could have been an idol or model, with or without the hint of flame tattoo peeking out from his left sleeve.
“How can I help you?” Monotone was apparently this guy’s default. Katsuki would not be deterred from his mission today.
“How do you make your Masala Chai?”
Shouto had been having a rather boring day. Not a single customer since opening. He didn’t mind much. Running the cafe for his dad was just the family monetizing on his hobby. When the bell above the door chimed the arrival of a customer, he called out a trained automatic greeting and moved over to the register to take the order. He hadn’t expected the customer to be an attractive blond with ‘bad attitude’ written all over his face. Shouto could almost feel the daggers of flames as scarlet eyes drilled into him, giving him a once-over. He snuck his own glance at the man’s features as he asked the usual question.
The brusque question in response almost caught him off guard. “With CTC wakoucha and rice milk.”
“What spices?”
“The usual: cloves, cinnamon, green cardamom, pepper corn, and ginger.”
“Sugar?”
“Any additional is by order request. I do keep a small batch made with 3 teaspoons per serving because it seems to be a good balance for those who prefer it on the sweeter side. The rice milk is enough for most.”
The man crossed arms over his chest and continued as if it were an interrogation. “Do you make the masala powder yourself?”
“I do.” Shouto nodded.
“How?”
“Per serving: 3 cloves, half a cinnamon, 4 green cardamoms, 2 pepper corn”
“And the chai?”
“One and a half parts rice milk to one part wakoucha, since the rice milk is thinner than regular milk. And the ginger is a peeled and grated half inch added with the masala powder.”
Scarlet eyes bore into him, calculating.
“It does happen to be one of my best sellers.”
A sardonic glance around the empty shop caused him to bristle.
“When I have customers,” Shouto added.
“Fine. Make me one. No extra sugar. I’ll judge it for myself.”
Shouto nodded and rang up the drink, processed payment, and set to work preparing the drink.
Katsuki could tell this guy didn’t get asked about his recipes often. He had seemed both put off by the questions and bored with the interaction. It was at least a good sign that he made his own recipes and knew them by heart instead of having some pre-made swill. He hadn’t missed the barista’s clenched jaw after he’d ordered. He tried to be unobtrusive while he watched the drink being made. Like he wasn’t all that interested in the process.
The cup thunks gently on the counter as the drink is set in front of him, ready for consumption, and mismatched eyes watch him with scrutiny. Katsuki first examined the color, then lifted the cup to smell the aroma. His mouth started to water even before he brought the cup to his lips to taste. The flavor blossomed across his tongue and he had to fight to keep his expression neutral. It was good. Better even than his homemade blend. The rice milk did make it sweeter than regular milk, sweet enough that extra sugar simply wasn’t needed.
He schooled his expression into mild approval as he licked his lips clean. “Decent enough,” he commented before taking another sip. He glanced over the rim of the cup to find dual colored eyebrows raised and those heterochromatic eyes staring deadpan. Katsuki nodded once and turned away from the counter with the drink to find himself a seat.
Shouto felt like he could have been in a commercial for all the performance his customer was putting on. His model looks didn’t hurt the impression either. But for all his acting, Shouto could tell the blond enjoyed the Masala Chai. “Pleasure to make your approval,” he murmured to himself once the man was seated. He turned back to his work area and began cleaning. He didn’t look up from his task again until he heard the bell on the door chime again, the customer leaving. He called out a salutation though the man didn’t look back and he found the cup was placed on the counter with a thousand yen note tucked under.
Thus began a regular routine for the pair. Bakugou — as Shouto learned his name was — came in every few days or so for a Masala Chai with increasing frequency. They made small talk while Shouto prepared his drink and the blond would sit for a half hour or so, enjoying the beverage while scrolling on his phone or tapping away at something. They would sneak glances at each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking and share secret smiles with themselves for it. Katsuki would always leave a tip under his cup when he left.