Chapter Text
One of Meara’s favorite things about living attached to his place of work, alone, in a business district where nobody was around until 6:00 at the earliest, was being able to blast any music he wanted in the kitchens early in the morning while he worked. He pulled his cinnamon roll dough out of the fridge -- he always made it in the evening and let it rise overnight -- and plopped it out on his workspace to roll out as he bounced around the kitchen. Meara’s music taste was wide and varied, and today he was listening to a local ska band he and some friends had played a few shows with back in his early 20s. Once upon a time he’d played guitar in a ska band, while he was studying under baristas and bakers in the mornings and Danny took night classes in a more academic setting.
Soon the kitchen was warm with the heat of the ovens and smelled of cinnamon rolls and vanilla cupcakes and blueberry scones. Meara shuffled around the trays on his cooling racks and pushed the cupcakes to the back, since they had to be fully cool to hold the frosting. When the cinnamon rolls were just warm, but not hot, he poured over the cream cheese vanilla glaze made by the recipe Josephine had brought with her when they hired her on. She’d been loathe to give it up, but Danny had made it worth her while and paid her a hefty sum for it.
Hopefully they’d be able to offer her more hours and bring her back at least part time in the afternoons so Meara didn’t have to be there all day.
Meara didn’t let himself dwell on the negative thoughts and went back to work.
He’d just finished putting out the cookies and had gone to work on the scones when Danny unlocked the front door. As it closed behind him, he flipped the business sign to ‘open,’ and they were officially ready to start their day.
Danny rushed by the counter with barely a hello. Meara popped his head up and asked, “What’s going on?”
Danny didn’t take Josselin’s seat this time, instead sitting at the table in front of it, closer to the door. He flipped his laptop open and said, “I need to schedule some meetings for this week. If it’s in the afternoon when it’s slower can you hold down the fort by yourself?”
“Probably,” Meara said. “I can call Josephine if you need to be there in the morning?”
Danny shrugged, but didn’t look up from where he was tapping furiously at his laptop. “Most of the people I want to see don’t open until 10:00 or so anyway. Afternoon’s no problem.”
“That should be fine.” Meara unwrapped the cupcakes he’d stored overnight and slid them into the bake case. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” Danny said. “I’m just going to schedule some meetings with a few potential advertisers.” He looked up at his friend and continued, “We’re so close, Meara. We just have to get to the end of October. Then the construction will be done and business should go back to normal.”
Meara brushed his hair away from his glasses and nodded. “Yeah. I know.”
“We can do this.”
“I know.”
“You don’t sound like you know.”
“I’m just scared,” Meara said. He glanced over at the door, the floor to ceiling windows, to make sure nobody was about to come in. His watch read 6:07. In the past they’d always had a line. “You said yourself, we haven’t even broke even for the month yet --”
“I’ll pull from my personal funds if I have to,” Danny said. Meara’s head snapped up. “I’ll refinance my mortgage. We are going to make it, Meara, if I have to pull from every fund and savings account I have.”
Meara’s shoulders relaxed a little. “Thank you, Danny,” he said.
“I have just as much invested as you do,” Danny reminded him. He held up a fist in solidarity. “We’re in this for the long haul.”
Meara held up his own fist and they mimed a bump across the room.
“We got this,” Danny said. “We are fucking awesome. I know sometimes you have trouble remembering that, so, just reminding you.”
“Maybe once we make it through this rough patch, I can hire an assistant baker,” Meara said.
“If you think you need one, I’ll make room in the budget.”
“I don’t really need one,” Meara said, “but once we go back to regular business hours, it would be nice to have a day off now and then.”
“We might keep the reduced hours for a while, see how things go,” Danny said. “We can maybe see if we’re where we’re supposed to be in a month or two and go from there.”
“Yeah.”
A middle-aged woman with a briefcase walked in, and Danny went quiet as Meara greeted her.
There were only a handful of customers between opening at 6:00 and when Meara slipped into the back to frost the cupcakes at 8:30. Maybe they could shave off an hour in the morning, too. Save some time and money.
But Meara would mention that to Danny later. Right now, his partner was on the phone with the editor of a local vegan newsletter, negotiating pricing and trying -- what sounded like unsuccessfully based on the frustration in his voice -- to explain what they were looking for. It all seemed pretty straightforward from what Meara could hear.
The doorbell went off and Danny huffed a heavy sigh, turning to Meara with pleading eyes.
“I’ve got it,” Meara said. He swiped his hand over his throat and continued, “Maybe write this one off as a loss and move on?”
Danny rolled his eyes and Meara chuckled as he headed to the front.
Josselin stood there, bouncing on his toes, looking up at the menu as if he didn’t already know exactly what he wanted. He probably had it memorized by now.
“Josselin!” Meara grinned. “You’re early.”
Josselin tapped his watch. “I’m meeting with Danny in fifteen,” he said. “He called me last night after you left. Figured I’d surprise you a little early!”
Meara laughed and glanced at the door. No customers. He leaned forward and Josselin met him halfway over the counter for a peck of a kiss.
“Danny must have been thinking the same thing, because he didn’t say a word about it.”
“That was my fault.” Josselin smiled sheepishly. “I asked him if it could be a surprise.”
Meara resisted the urge to boop his adorable nose.
“I think I’m going to go back to the zombie today.” Josselin hooked a stray strand of hair behind his ear. He’d have to fix his ponytail once he got settled.
Meara grinned. “All right.”
“Do you know what kind of scone I want?”
“What?”
“You said you noticed I ordered them based on the day of the week. So I was just wondering if you knew what Tuesday was.”
Meara’s grin broadened. “An orange scone, then.”
Josselin grinned back. “You’re perfect.”
Meara’s grin softened, but he flushed bright red and looked down at the cash register.
“At your job. You’re perfect at your job,” Josselin stammered, because Meara was going to find out he was a huge nerd eventually, but he’d been hoping he could keep his cool until they got a little more comfortable.
“Okay,” Meara said, in a way that made it clear he knew exactly what Josselin meant. “You can sit down. I’ll get it started and let Danny know you’re here.”
Josselin took a step away, then paused. Meara looked up from where he was already pulling the espresso.
“Josselin?”
“Since there’s no customers here, do you mind if I just loiter here with you?”
Meara grinned and poured the espresso into one of the huge mugs they reserved especially for zombies. Six shots total, halfway up with coffee, the rest of the way with steamed milk, about a half inch of foam.
Meara didn’t say much, just enjoying listening to Josselin’s voice as he worked. Frankie was still in New Zealand, and had sailed out to an island known for its quokkas.
“I’ll have to show you the pictures later,” Josselin said. “They’re adorable.”
Meara laughed. “I’ve never even heard of a quokka.”
Josselin pulled his phone out of his pocket and did a quick image search. Meara leaned over the counter as he steamed the milk, squinting at first at the small picture and then breaking out into a huge smile. It was adorable.
“The pictures are in my email. Maybe on your lunch break you can come sit with me and I can show you over sandwiches?”
Meara smiled wryly. “Asking me on another date already?”
Josselin twisted his foot and bumped his ankle against the other. “Ma~aybe,” he sang.
Meara took his eyes away from Josselin for the few seconds it took to pour the foam.
Today he didn’t go for subtlety. He drew a stack of three hearts on top of Josselin’s drink.
He handed the cup over a little hesitantly. “It’s pretty full,” he said, as if that was why he moved so slowly, and not because of the drawing he’d done for… his boyfriend? The guy he was seeing? What words were they using for this? They’d have to figure that out soon.
Josselin took it just as carefully.
“It’s hot,” Meara warmed. “And awkward. You’ll probably want two hands. I’ll plate up your scone while you take it over to your table.”
Josselin started to take a sip to lessen the risk of the coffee sloshing over the sides of the mug, and smiled when he saw the hearts, stacked one on top of another, the littlest one at the top. He looked back up at Meara, who was bent over grabbing a plate for his scone.
“You are perfect,” Josselin whispered, and he wasn’t sure whether he was grateful Meara didn’t hear him.
Meara straightened just in time to see Josselin turn around with his mug. His steps were slow and careful, maybe too much so, in an attempt not to spill. Meara smiled and tried not to imagine both of them in oversized sweaters cuddling with hot chocolate on his bed in front of a scary movie, because he was a professional. Josselin might have been his own “it’s complicated,” but he still had to maintain his boundaries while he was at work, if only for the comfort of other customers.
Of which there were none, right now. Again. Meara’s mouth twisted as he looked at the door and he grabbed Josselin’s scone. He laid it down on the table beside the mug and was about to walk back to the counter without saying anything at all when Josselin caught his wrist, gently.
“Are you okay?”
Meara looked back at him with a sad smile. “Just worried. It’s been so slow today. It was nice, back when we were busy all the time, you know, to have a slower day every now and then.” He sighed. “But this is killing us.”
Josselin smiled, a sad, comforting smile. “Well, hopefully some of my suggestions can help. If you and Danny have any other questions, or think of something you need connections to or more information on, just let me know, okay?”
“Thank you, Josselin.” Meara lifted his wrist and kissed Josselin’s fingers.
Danny came out of the back, then, with his laptop tucked underneath his arm as he furiously typed something into his phone.
“Hey, Josselin,” he said, but it was distracted. Meara slipped his wrist out of Josselin’s grasp and took his hand to kiss his palm, then dropped it and took a step back.
“Danny?” Meara asked. He finally looked up from his phone, as if he only realized then how rude he was being.
“Sorry,” he said. “It’s just… ugh. Interns.”
Josselin’s face tightened in understanding. Danny’s phone went off and he looked back down at the screen. The lines in his face smoothed out a little and his shoulders relaxed. “I think I have it figured out now, though.”
Meara pulled out the empty chair and patted the back. “Sit down,” he said. “I’ll keep an eye on the store so you two can talk.”
“One of the construction workers asked for four dozen chocolate peanut butter cupcakes for an upcoming birthday party. I know we don’t normally take orders like that, but we need all the business we can get.”
“What?”
Josselin jumped. Meara lowered his voice and ducked closer.
“When? Danny, you can’t just do stuff like this without asking me, I don’t know if I’ll have the time --”
“It’s for next week. Calm down. It’s all written down on the sticky note by the phone. You know I wouldn’t have taken anything for this week without asking you, first.”
Meara frowned and straightened, crossing his arms over his chest. “Still. Ask me next time, Danny. Even if I’m off, I live in the back of the store. You have literally no excuse for not tracking me down.”
Danny glanced up at him, annoyed at the fuss he was making, but then he saw the worry in Meara’s brow and his face softened.
“Sorry,” he said. “You’re right. I should have asked you. I was thinking of branching out into doing bigger orders, if you’re up to it.”
“Like, now? Or when business picks up again?”
“Now?” Danny asked, suddenly unsure. “I figured, if we make enough with the extra business it brings, with the new advertisements and everything, we could bring Josephine back to run the front end of things and you could spend all your time in the back?”
Meara hummed in thought and rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. “That is what I’ve been aiming for all this time.” His fingers tapped against his arm as his eyes darted left and right while he went through his mental recipe catalog. “I was hoping we could branch more into bakery-café territory rather than just a coffee shop with a handful of options.”
The door opened and Meara’s gaze darted over his shoulder.
“We’ll discuss it,” Josselin said.
Meara smiled in thanks and turned, raising one hand and calling out, “Welcome! How are you today?”
The customer was a harried looking businesswoman, dressed to the nines, but her stockings and the bottom of her suit skirt were soaking wet.
“You would not believe the morning I’ve had,” she sighed. Meara smiled condolingly. He was used to playing bartender and listening to people’s problems, and while sometimes it just got to be too much and started to play hell on his nerves, with how dead it had been, he’d started missing it.
“Maybe a good cup of coffee and a cupcake will start to turn it around?”
She laughed, a little strained, and nodded. “I’ll take the coffee. Soy cappuccino, dry. But I’ll pass on the cupcake. I’m vegan.”
Meara smiled. “So are the cupcakes.”
She paused, her hands still in her purse as he dug out her wallet. “What?”
“Everything in the bake case is, actually,” he said, gesturing over at the case in question.
Her eyes widened and her hand flew to her mouth. A bright grin crossed her face and she said, “You’re serious!? Oh, my gosh, then, yes, I would love a cupcake. I’ll take…” She paused to look into the case. Her eyes darted over the cupcakes and scones and muffins and -- “You have cinnamon rolls? Those are vegan, too?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Meara laughed.
“How many do you have? Is this all?”
Meara held up a finger and said, “Let me check in back and see what I have. I know I do, just not how much.”
He ducked into the back and pulled out his tray. He counted them by twos: including what he had in the bake case, he had two dozen exactly.
He popped his head out from behind the door and said, “We have two dozen. There’s plenty.”
“I’ll take them all.”
Meara tried and failed to hide his surprise. The woman laughed.
“If I’m going to be late for a meeting, I may as well bring treats.”
Meara was used to people stopping in even though they were late for class or work or appointments, but they usually weren’t this pleasant. He boxed it all up as best he could: each box only held six, since they didn’t ever sell more than that at once. He had to use two of their biggest bags to hold them.
“Don’t usually get orders this big?” the woman asked.
“We used to,” he said. “But since the construction on the tracks we’ve had to cut back a lot on what we bake because we just don’t have the customers anymore.”
“That’s awful!” The woman seemed genuinely distressed. When Meara gave her a quizzical look, she said, “I’ve seen a lot of businesses go down because of extended construction, a lot of businesses I liked. I don’t know how much it helps, but you can bet I’m going to Instagram the hell out of this cinnamon roll, and I’ll tweet about it, too.”
Meara grinned. “Thank you, ma’am. Really. That means a lot to us.”
She paid with a credit card and left twenty dollars in the tip jar, and when she swept out the door, Meara thought to call, “The best place for cabs is just down the street! Take a left at the light!”
“Thank you!” she called, and she was gone.
Meara wasn’t naïve enough to think it would change anything in the short run, but he couldn’t help feeling hopeful as she left.