Chapter Text
The Honey Bean Café was already humming when Gabriel tied his apron behind his back and slid behind the counter. The espresso machine hissed like a dragon waking up, and the scent of roasted beans curled through the air like a promise. It was just another Tuesday, rain tapping gently on the windows, indie music playing low, and regulars trickling in with sleepy eyes and soggy umbrellas.
Gabriel liked mornings. They were quiet, predictable, and full of potential. He’d already made three cappuccinos, two matcha lattes, and one very complicated order involving lavender syrup and oat foam. He was halfway through restocking the pastry case when the door chimed.
And then he saw him.
The guy stepped in like he wasn’t sure he belonged, hood up, glasses fogged, laptop bag slung over one shoulder. He paused just inside the doorway, blinking at the menu like it was written in code. Gabriel froze mid-muffin placement.
Tall. Soft looking. A little rumpled, like he’d just rolled out of bed and into a poetry reading. Gabriel's heart did something stupid, like skip, or stutter, or maybe just melt.
He leaned on the counter, casually dramatic. “Welcome to The Honey Bean. Home of caffeine, questionable playlists, and baristas who flirt shamelessly.”
The guy looked up, startled. “Uh… hi.”
Gabriel grinned. “What can I get for you, handsome?”
The guy blinked. “I, um. Just a latte. Oat milk. Extra hot.”
Gabriel nodded, already reaching for a cup. “Coming right up. And your name, so I can write something poetic on the sleeve?”
“Sam.”
Gabriel wrote it slowly, looping the letters with care. Then, beneath it, he added: You look like the kind of person who reads in thunderstorms.
Sam took the cup with both hands, eyes flicking to the sleeve. A small smile tugged at his lips, barely there, but enough to make Gabriel's stomach flip.
He didn’t say anything. Just nodded, murmured a quiet “thanks,” and retreated to the corner table by the window.
Gabriel watched him go, heart thudding like a drum solo. Sam pulled out his laptop, adjusted his glasses, and sipped his latte with the kind of focus usually reserved for ancient texts.
Gabriel turned back to the espresso machine, grinning like an idiot.
It was love at first sight. Or maybe just the beginning of something warm, slow, and steeped in possibility.