Work Text:
You enter the Starbucks and take a long, deep breath. God, it's been a long morning.
You woke up two hours before your alarm went off because your damn cat somehow fell in the toilet and woke you up yow, yow, yowling. Then you knocked over one of your plants, Trish, right as you were walking out the door and you had to completely repot her and it took you forever to find the soil that you know you put under the sink but ended up being in your linens closet that you swear you haven't even opened in months. And you were like okay, I'll get a coffee and feel better, but the small family-owned coffee shop you usually went to was having the pavement outside repaved and no one could come in.
So fuck it, you went to Starbucks which, by the way, is fifteen minutes out of your way and you're going to be even more late than before and you know if you keep this up your boss is going to fire you, even though she's said before she completely understands life and that shit happens and it's not even a very formal job anyway.
Anyway. You're at Starbucks.
It's not very busy this morning, with only a couple people scattered around the place. You can see one guy on a laptop, a couple sitting in a booth with those dumb red holiday cups, and this one chick with chain jewelery who kind of makes you want to say hi to her and ask if she listens to Hozier.
You walk up to the line, where there's only one person ordering. They're wearing a Doors shirt and you think that's cool. They step aside after giving their name and you're up. You take a step and, woah, this guy's tall. Like, crazy tall. God, do they even make people that tall? He's looking at you like he said something. Oh my god did he say something? He's the barista, obviously he fucking said something.
"Uh?" you say.
He laughs, "How can I help you?" God, he sounds like a hot Kermit the Frog.
"Um. Yeah. Ahem. Can I get a black coffee?"
He punches some, I dunno, things on his tablet thing, and looks up. "That'll be all for you?"
You nod.
"One black coffee," he says again. "Like Chip Mulaney."
You bark out a laugh, "Yeah, I got a carful of kids outside thinking I'll come out with cones and french fries."
He lets out, god was that a giggle? Did this fucking UNIT just giggle. Oh my god. Ohh my god. You look down at his nametag, and it says… Jam?
"Jam?" you say.
"Oh. Heh. Yeah. My real name is Jake, but um," he looks a way for a moment, embarrassed? "When I was like... fourteen? I was in this Roblox group thing and my username was, god I can't even remember anymore. But that's where it came from, and it stuck I guess. It's just easier now."
You laugh a little. Then you remember you're currently 45 minutes late to work. You think he cqn see that soemthing's wrong, because he says, "Oh, your total is $3.95. What name for this order?"
You tell him, and he smiles.
.
Needless to say, you go back tomorrow. You really want to know what was up with this 6'4" nerdy hunk named Jam. He sees you wearing some Heart t-shirt you inadvertently stole from your mom and he literally says,
"Oh HELL YEAH."
You're very taken off guard. "What?"
"AHEM. Sorry. I like your shirt. Anyway. Your order?" He's fucking blushing. Oh my god.
"Yes! I'll have a black coffee."
"Again? You don't seem like the type."
You look down at yourself. Okay, yeah, you're wearing some middle aged woman's 80s band shirt, and your favorite sweatpants that have little Psyducks on them that you think you got from Walmart, and rainbow tie dye Crocs that are honestly really comfortable okay, so fuck you.
"You remember my order?" you ask him, even though sure, maybe it is a little weird, but that has to pretty normal, right? I mean it's a Starbucks. But you can barely remember five minutes ago so props to this guy and his baller memory.
"Oh, yeah. On my break yesterday I thought about you again. I MEAN. It again. Yeah. Not many people would have gotten the reference I don't think."
He taps his thumb against his what? Computer thing? I dunno. You notice his hands. God he has big hands. Covered in callouses and small scars, you wonder who this guy is.
He catches you staring, and thinks you're looking at his weird screen thing, "Oh! Yes. Anything else?"
"No. Well, wait. Since someone gave me shit about it, I guess I'll get the… gooey dark chocolate swirl." You hate saying shit like that out loud.
He smiles. "Okay, that's up to $6.16."
He remembers your name. Almost. You take the sharpie from his hand and fix it. When you hand it back, your fingers brush like in the fucking movies. You almost laugh.
"Ahem," he says, flushed. "Okay, your order will be ready in a minute."
You grin.
.
You come back the rest of the week, ordering a single black coffee and some new pastry each day. They weren't all winners, especially the lemon thing that Jam had recommended to you.
"I'm sorry!" you said after very convincingly told him you loved it.
"But you like the cherry one. You have NO taste!" you two laughed, before another customer came up to the counter behind you. You waved goodbye, and he waved back.
Today, though, he was nowhere to be seen. You ask one of his coworkers.
"Oh, Jake you mean? He's on break right now. He had to bring his dog in cuz no one could watch him today. He's super worried about him, poor guy. They're out back if you want to check up on them."
You swear she gives you a wink, but maybe it's just the light. Her nametag says Brittany, but before you could ask anything else, she's already turned away to another customer.
You head out back, which feels kind of sketchy honestly, and wonder if you're about to be murdered. God it would suck to be murdered at a Starbucks.
When you turn the corner, a small dog IMMEDIATELY jumps up to bark at you.
"Hey, Micco!" you hear a voice yell, but you are totally not paying attention to anything but the small brown chorkie trotting towards you.
You kneel down and say, "Oh, hello, pretty one!"
He stares at you for a second and tilts his little head, before jumping up on you.
"Hey, Micco!" the voice says more sternly, and he hops back down. You pet him some more though, and look up at Jam.
"Sorry about him," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "I had to take him with me today, because my usual sitter is sick today."
"Well," you say half to him and half to Micco, "I don't mind one bit. Do I Micco?"
Jam comes to sit next you on the ground, which, for the alley out back of a Starbucks, isn't that bad. Very non-murdery. You lean down and give Micco some kisses, to which he responds VERY happily.
"Ohoho, hi Micco! Aren't you the prettiest boy!" you coo, still petting behind his ears. His cold nose brushes your cheek and it's SO cute.
"Well I wouldn't say the prettiest…" Jam speaks up, feigning hurt.
You snort, and start to go smack him on the arm.
"Well, maybe not THE prettiest," you begin to say, when he takes your hand mid air and weaves your fingers with his own. You might die. Oh my god.
You two stare at each other for a moment, when you both try to speak at the same time.
"Is this-"
"Can I-"
You both let out a laugh, and you say, "You first."
"Is this okay?" he says, shy and sweet. It's a strange look on him, since he literally is the size of a bodybuilder and could crush you in one good snap.
That makes you laugh, and you nod.
"More than okay."
"Okay," he says. "Now you."
You blush a little before looking away.
"Can I kiss you? I mean like- Ahem. You totally DON'T have to I just figured it'd be good to ask because consent is very important with these kinda things and-"
He cuts you off. By kissing you. After a second of "oh my god he's kissing me", you kiss him back. It's kind of silly, your noses had mushed together all weird for a second, but when you figure it out, it's a moment of pure bliss. A moment that is very swiftly ruined.
"Micco!" Jam shouts. "Did you just toot! Excuse you, naughty man."
You burst out laughing, catching both of them off guard. Jam starts laughing too, and you lean against his shoulder.
"So," he says. "What'll it be? One black coffee?"
You just kiss him again.