Work Text:
Ayla never considered herself to be a voluntary worker. Employment was simply a means to an end, a way to get money regardless of whether she enjoyed it or not. She'd worked many odd jobs, which were more often than not unpleasant ones, so when she was hired as a barista at the Rabu Coffeehouse and Cafe, Ayla was surprised to find that she enjoyed it much more than she expected.
Customer service was never a pleasant occupation, and it still wasn't, but Benjy worked there too, making it a bit more bearable, and Nessa was a kind and lenient manager. She let them take days off and eat the leftover cookies after the cafe closed in the evenings.
But then, of course, there was also Crier. Ayla would say that seeing Crier nearly every day was one of the downsides of working at Rabu, Benjy would say she was the only reason Ayla hadn’t quit yet. Benjy didn’t know anything.
Crier was the daughter of the man who owned Rabu Coffeehouse, and because of that, Ayla despised her. Hesod owned various franchises all over the city of Zulla. People thought of him as a brilliant and skilled businessman, generous and clever, but Ayla considered him to be something more like a selfish, inconsiderate corporate power.
Hesod and his damn business zoning and his various restaurants and stores’ gentrification were what had pushed Ayla and her family out of their neighborhood and into the streets when she was nine, what had pushed her brother to leave the city entirely in an attempt to find work that was not for Hesod. By that point, their parents were both dead, so Ayla found herself in Rowan’s care. She loved Rowan like another mother and Benjy like a brother, they were probably the best thing that had ever happened in her life— up until the moment Rowan got her and Benjy jobs at one of Hesod’s cafes, anyway— but that did nothing to lessen her anger at Hesod and therefore Crier.
Crier could not be anything but her father’s daughter, she never would be. She had gotten the top grades at her high school and college, and was now in law school, training to become every bit the ruthless businesswoman Hesod had raised her to become. Perhaps one even worse than Hesod was himself, she definitely had the potential.
Ayla hated her for it. For the bright grin she shot Ayla every time she walked into Rabu, for her graceful stride and eloquent, persuasive voice. For the false kindness she directed at everyone whenever she came to check on her father’s investments.
Crier visited Rabu once or twice a week. She always ordered a cup of hot green tea and sat quietly in the corner observing the customers and employees for a few hours before leaving again.
(The first time she’d come for observations, Ayla hadn’t recognized her. She was simply another beautiful but strange girl coming into the cafe coming in to have a drink.
“Hello there,” Crier said as she stepped up to the register. She revealed perfectly straight and white teeth as she smiled at Ayla, hands in the pockets of her designer trench coat.
It took everything in Ayla not to roll her eyes. She was pretty, yes, but that didn’t mean anything. Except for the fact that talking to anyone attractive tended to turn Ayla into a bit of an asshole, but that could be blamed on the fact it was eight in the morning.
“Hi,” Ayla said, not even bothering to put any enthusiasm in it. She looked up and met golden eyes. “What do you want?”
From the barista counter, Benjy made a startled noise. “Ayla,” he muttered, tone slightly panicked. Ayla wanted to laugh. Benjy always teased her for her terrible customer service abilities, he usually was not this mortified in the moment.
The girl did not seem to notice Benjy or the blunt delivery of Ayla’s greeting. Her smile only widened. “Hi, can I get a medium cup of jasmine green tea and one of those almond scones?”
Her voice had a melodic lilt to it, like the reverberation of A Major on a grand piano. Ayla hated it. She punched in the order on the iPad next to the cash register and shrugged. “That’s $6.32. Name?”
“My name’s Crier.”
Ayla’s eyes snapped up quickly, and sure enough it was Crier. Crier, Hesod’s daughter and Ayla’s self declared worst enemy, standing in the middle of Rabu with a ten dollar bill between two manicured nails and acting completely nonchalant.
Keeping her face neutral, Ayla typed her name into the iPad and hit the ‘print’ button next to the receipt. “Your change is $4.68,” she said, ripping out the receipt. “Not that it would matter very much since all the money will be returning to you anyways.”
“Ayla,” Benjy hissed again. Ayla only pushed one of the ceramic teacups into his hand and slid open the pastry case.
Instead of looking angry as Ayla would’ve expected, Crier only shrugged. “I suppose that’s fair. I hope I haven’t made you or any of your coworkers uncomfortable being here today, I requested to visit our locations myself today. This establishment has done nothing wrong and I just wanted to observe its environment myself. The almond scones are rather good here.”
Unsure how to respond, Ayla only raised an eyebrow, plopped the scone onto a plate, and set it down in exchange for the ten dollar bill. “I don’t really care what you choose to do with your free time, Miss Crier. Here is your change, Benjy will have your tea on the other end of the counter.”
“Have a nice day, Ayla,” Crier replied, glancing at the nametag on her apron. She smiled again as she dropped the money into the tip jar, though it was different than the other one. It felt more real, sly almost. Ayla looked away but nodded.
Crier took her plate to a back corner and Ayla did not look over to her again for the rest of the time she was there.)
After the first time Crier came to visit the coffee shop six months ago, her visits became more frequent. By now, Crier dropping into the cafe was an expected occurrence every Tuesday and Saturday morning. Even when Ayla’s customer service was still poor every time Crier came in, it was never reported to Hesod and never deterred the other woman from stopping by.
Bets were going around with the other employees of Rabu about how long this would last, of how nasty and cold Ayla could get until Crier decided to call it quits. Right now, they were all at a stalemate as far as Ayla knew. She didn’t give a rat’s ass about their bets, but Benjy did so she always found out about them anyway. All but one, anyway. There was one bet he had going with Faye and Luna that he refused to tell Ayla about. It was something about her and Crier, Ayla could guess that much, but she could get no other information about the bet from him.
(“I’ll tell you when I know for sure how it’s going to end,” Benjy promised her one night after dinner, a grin on his lips.
“You’re full of shit,” Ayla told him, “I bet it’s something stupid like a tea flavor Crier will order and you three are just fucking with me.”
Benjy shrugged. “Maybe, but maybe not.”
Ayla threw her crumpled up napkin at his head and Rowan made her go put the dishes away.)
Sometime after the first week, they even started having conversations— real ones where Ayla said more than three words any time Crier said anything. Ayla learned small bits about Crier, allowed Crier to know about her in return. Crier no longer had to say anything for Ayla to know what she wanted to order, that she’d pay with a ten dollar bill and always put the change into Ayla’s tip jar.
She kind of hated the familiarity, it made her nauseous whenever she thought about it. Every time Crier gave her that smile, the rare, secretive one reserved for Ayla, Ayla felt like throwing every single one of the cafe’s dishes at the brick wall outside. Either that, or like taking Crier’s hand while she was paying and pulling her over the counter to see how Crier might react were she to press their lips together.
Ayla’s face burned now just thinking about it, she scrubbed the espresso machine harder.
It had taken Ayla a few months to fully realize it, but she was self aware enough to know that she maybe possibly had a very, very small crush on Crier. She kind of wished she hadn’t, it would make things so much easier considering how often Crier came in, but it was too late to do anything now.
Crier was coming in again today, since it was Tuesday. Perhaps in only fifteen minutes. Don’t get excited about that, idiot, Ayla silently scolded herself. They were hardly friends and Crier was still her enemy, after all.
(Though she was beginning to realize she cared less and less about that. She still kind of wanted to kiss Crier.)
“I think that one’s good now,” Benjy said, an eyebrow raised. “Is something on your mind? Or rather, someone?”
There was a box of insulated to-go cups in front of him, ignored in favor of the game of sudoku he had open on his phone. It was five minutes before opening so Nessa was in the back, too busy to bother him about it. Ayla, Benji, and a man called Finn were on opening shift this morning.
Benjy’s voice broke Ayla from her daze and she belatedly flipped him off with her free hand. Still, she moved to wipe off the next machine. “Fuck off, Benjy, you have no idea what you’re talking about right now.”
Benjy snorted. “Uh huh, sure, and Nessa’s apple pie isn’t the main reason this place is still open.” The kitchen doors swung open and he shoved his phone into the pocket of his jeans quickly. From beside him, Finn snickered.
“Incorrect,” Nessa said as she strode out of the kitchen with a tray of pastries. “It’s because of my peach pie.”
“If that’s our best seller then how come that’s the one that’s always left over at the end of the day?” Benjy asked, grinning.
“If you’re getting paid to be here then how come you only dick around on your phone instead of doing your job every day?” Nessa shot back.
That shut Benjy up and he turned sheepishly to the box of to-go cups to do his job. “Er, sorry, ma’am.”
Nessa waved him off. “Are we ready for opening?” she asked Ayla and Finn. “I hope one of you has cleaned off all the windows since Miss Crier is coming today and I do not want anyone— including Hesod’s daughter— to think I let this place look like a dump all the time.”
Finn scoffed. “Crier comes like all the time, I don’t think she cares anymore. All she ever does is come to flirt with Ayl—”
“I do not care, I asked if we are ready to open,” Nessa interrupted. Ayla was silently grateful. She knew how Finn was going to end that sentence. “You know how these rich idiots get when we open late. They’re going to start lining up and staring like beauty pageant moms.”
Benjy shivered dramatically. “I never want to experience that ever again,” he said gravely.
“Then you’d best finish sorting those cups before our friends drop by.”
Ayla tried to cover her smile as Nessa turned to her. “Everything is clean and ready for use,” she reported.
“Water and coffee are starting,” Finn said.
Nessa nodded. “Good. As soon as Benjy is done, Ayla, you can turn the sign.” With one more sharp glance at Benjy, Nessa disappeared into the kitchen again to manage the two chefs.
As soon as the door shut behind her, Benjy turned to Ayla and stage whispered, “She scares the shit out of me.”
Ayla rolled her eyes. “Just finish counting so we can be done with this sooner.”
They narrowly missed having people wait outside, blankly staring at them. As the first woman walked up, Ayla flipped the sign to read ‘open’ and the day began.
She allowed herself to become lost in the monotonous work, letting herself forget to count down the minutes until Crier arrived. Tuesdays were always much better than Saturdays, there were more people to take orders from, which prevented Ayla from looking to the door every two seconds.
And then, Crier was standing on the other side of the counter. Crier’s cheeks were tinged red from the wind, her braided pleat loose over her in the back as her bangs fell just above her eyes. There was a paperback book under her arm and an upward curve to her lips. “Hey,” she said.
Everything Ayla had managed to push back and ignore came flooding back in, feeling like a bowling ball to the chest. She forced down the disgustingly whipped smile trying to force itself onto her face and molded it into a small, teasing smirk instead. “Hey,” she replied. “The usual?”
Crier beamed. “Yes, please, that would be great. Thank you, Ayla.”
As Ayla put in the order, Crier cleared her throat. Possibly for the first time in the time they’d known each other, she seemed… nervous. “So, Ayla,” she began. Her words were stiff, missing the usual eloquence and ease.
Ayla looked up, curious.
Crier bit her bottom lip and averted her gaze to the countertop, her nails tapping against the linoleum quickly. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. “Uh, nevermind. Now’s probably not a great time for you since there are still other customers to serve,” she said hesitantly. “Can I maybe talk to you somewhere when you go on your break?”
Odd, Ayla thought, her eyes narrowed as she studied Crier. Still, she agreed, shrugging as she pulled out a scone from the pastry case. “Yeah, I guess. My lunch is at twelve.”
“Alright then. Um, cool.”
“Cool.”
They stood there in silence for a long moment, Ayla mentally kicking herself for the godawful response. “Well, see you later I guess?” It came out as more of a question and Ayla internally grimaced again.
What the hell was wrong with her? It’d been a while since she’d realized her feelings for Crier, why was she starting to act like some moronic twelve year old around her now of all times? And more importantly, what did Crier want to talk about? Why did Ayla even care? It was probably just something stupid anyway.
“Yeah. Yeah, definitely,” Crier said quickly. “Well, bye then.” She waved, and another strand of hair fell out of its place.
Ayla wanted to push it back for her, like some stupid romance novel protagonist. Instead, she grabbed an almond scone and pushed it towards Crier. “Yep. Bye.”
Crier took the plate and nodded her goodbye, then shuffled— not float, or glide, or anything else that resembled her usual posture, but actual shuffling, Ayla was baffled— over to Benjy for her tea before sitting down at her usual table.
Ayla took the orders from the last two people in line, distracted but pointedly keeping her eyes forward. When they both sat down at different tables, Benjy came up next to her. “Real smooth there talking to Crier,” he said in amusement. “Way to show her that you’re serious girlfriend material, with those super great speaking skills.”
“You done yet?” Ayla asked, ignoring the heat rising in her cheeks.
“I’m just saying,” Benjy said. “I’m on your side, really. Go get the girl and all that. Here, I’ll even switch lunch with you. Mine is in ten minutes.”
Ayla sighed, leaning against the back counter. “Yeah, you don’t have to do that.”
“But I will, anyway. Who knows, maybe now something will actually happen beyond you uselessly mooning over Crier every time she comes in here. I’m getting tired of it and I want my money.”
Ayla chose not to comment on the latter part. She’d had a feeling Benjy, Faye, and Luna’s bet had something to do with Crier, and couldn’t bother to be mad about it. There was no point to be. “Fine. You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”
“Love you too, Ayla. Also, you get to clean the tables now.”
“Whatever.” Ayla didn’t say the thank you aloud, but she knew Benjy heard it anyway. He lightly punched her in the arm and turned to say something to Finn. Ayla didn’t bother listening. Instead she stole a glance at Crier, only to find that the woman was already watching her.
She let herself stare for only half a second before forcing her eyes away and instead fiddled with one of the napkins from the dispenser. Just a few more minutes.
When there were approximately three and a half minutes left— not that Ayla had been counting, of course— Nessa appeared and slapped her hand away from the napkin dispenser. “Oh for god’s sake, just go already. This is the only time, but I can’t stand you looking so pathetic.”
Ayla frowned. “I’m not pathetic,” she snapped. You kind of are, though, a quiet voice in the back of her mind said. Ayla chose to ignore it. She wasn’t pathetic or eager or nervous, as much as Benjy and now Nessa insisted she was. At least, she wasn’t going to admit it out loud. Still, she muttered a thanks and untied her apron.
Crier placed the floral bookmark in her novel as Ayla approached her table. “Ayla,” she greeted.
“Uh, we can go outside or something, if you want,” Ayla said. Goddamn, why was she so nervous? “Staying here is also fine, but… I don’t know. Your choice.”
“Sure, outside works,” Crier said. She put her book into her messenger bag and stood, smoothing out her already immaculate blue sundress.
Benjy’s eyes followed them out the door, but Ayla could barely focus on it. Her hands were beginning to sweat and the way Crier kept catching side glances at her made Ayla’s brain feel completely fried.
They turned the corner and into the small alleyway beside the cafe, then Crier turned to fully face Ayla. “I hope this does not make you uncomfortable, but I’m sure you’ve picked up on this anyway. I— I really, really like you, Ayla. It’s ridiculous how much I like you given the length of the majority of our interactions, but there’s something in you that’s almost like a flame. I have never felt the draw I have to you so strongly to anyone else, if I’m being honest. I’d like to know you better, beyond ordering a scone and doing work in the back corner as you work. I want to be more than just another near-stranger in your life. You do not have to feel the same, but I just thought I’d tell you in case there is still a chance.” The words came out in a tumble, and yet they were clear and smooth at the same time. Crier’s face was flushed a lovely shade of pink as she finished, a mix of what seemed to be both embarrassment and defiance in her voice.
Ayla did not react for a long moment. Her brain ran over Crier’s words over and over again, still in disbelief each time. “There’s no way this is actually happening,” she muttered to herself. And then, she laughed. “For someone so sharp, you’re a bit of an idiot, Crier,” Ayla said fondly.
Before Crier could react, Ayla closed the gap of space between them and pressed her lips to Crier’s. It was quick and light, experimental and easy for Crier to slip out of. And yet, in those two moments, Ayla quickly became addicted to the softness of Crier’s lips, the sweet taste of her lip balm and the way her lips parted for Ayla’s almost unconsciously.
When Ayla began to break away, Crier followed and caught her mouth in another kiss, this one much longer and more confident. She bit on Ayla’s lip lightly, lightly looping a hand around her waist to pull her close until they were to the stone wall. Ayla let her hands move from their sides, one going to cup Crier’s jaw as she leaned into the kiss, and the other moving up to comb through the other woman’s dark hair.
Kissing Crier was nothing and everything like Ayla imagined it would be. There was fire and passion, small whispered confessions against each other’s lips and tight grips on each other’s waists, sleeves, arms. But there was also the smell of Crier’s shampoo filling Ayla’s nose, cherry blossom, she registered vaguely, and the soft pants that escaped her lips, some in the shape of Ayla’s name. It was intoxicating, and Ayla decided if she were to die on the spot, right here, kissing Crier, she would be alright with it.
Some time later— perhaps moments or minutes, Ayla could not quite care— they both pulled away with heavy breaths. Crier leaned her forehead against Ayla’s, and Ayla brushed aside a loose hair on Crier’s forehead. For a moment, Crier leaned into the touch, and Ayla tried to hold back a smile.
“If you had not noticed, I really, really like you too,” she whispered.
Crier huffed a small laugh and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, she replied, “Does that mean I can take you on a date, sometime?”
Ayla pretended to think for a moment. “Only if it’s not for coffee.”
“I believe that can be arranged.”
(When they returned inside at the end of Ayla’s twenty minute lunch break, fingers carefully intertwined and small but giddy grins on both their faces, Faye, who had just begun her own shift out front, slid three ten dollar bills over to Benjy, feigning a pout. Ayla hardly even cared that the mysterious bet had been won and revealed, not since she had Crier. This time when the two locked eyes, she smiled.)