Chapter Text
One
Lila pulls the order slip down and squints at it. “Carolyn is this right?” She holds the offending piece of paper up at her boss. There was no way in hell anyone would willingly order five shots of espresso.
Her boss glances up at her handwriting and nods. “Yep. Five shots. For the table in the corner.”
The table she nods towards is occupied by a man with dark hair and an even darker expression. Glaring at the pile of papers in front of him like they’ve personally offended him.
“Jeez, talk about a serious caffeine problem.” Lila mutters as she grabs a large blue mug from the mismatched crockery pile on top of the coffee machine, and starts to pull the shots. Not willing to risk being the one between this guy and his coffee. The second the last drop hits the glossy black surface she transfers the mug to a serving tray and takes it over.
The paper in front of him is covered in equations, and the red pen scrawled all over it is definitely the sign of a failing grade. No wonder he looked stressed. “You definitely need the extra shots. Theoretical physics?”
He pulls the coffee towards him and takes a sip before he looks at her. “Something you take?”
“Nope.” She folds the tray against her stomach. “The guy who teaches that class is a demon with his grades. Besides, from what I’ve heard, you can barely get into the lecture hall. Not everyone signed up is there for the physics if you catch my drift.”
“Really?” He shakes his head and looks back down at the paper. “That explains a lot.”
“Told you. Demon. Enjoy the coffee.”
Two
Stumbling across this little coffee shop had been a happy accident. Just far enough off campus that he could escape the hoards of students who seemed to find him no matter where he ended up, still close enough that it was only a short walk from the office. Not trendy enough to attract the usual student crowd; but the overstuffed armchairs and wobbly tables gave it a sort of charm that was hard to explain. Familiar and cosy, but most of all, a place to hide from everyone else.
The office was a no go. Through the thin walls he could hear the arguing emanating from the office of Prof Reginald. It was a constant background noise, and one that was getting harder and harder to tune out as time went on. PhD students after he had interfered with their experiments and destroyed months of work. Undergrads complaining their grades were late. Even colleagues after he dumped all his responsibilities on them without a shred of remorse.
Here he could escape into the relative serenity of hissing steam, the clatter of cups against saucers and then certainty of decent coffee.
The bell over the door clangs as someone throws the door open. The waitress from last time storms in, pulling her coat off and heading straight behind the counter. Five tries to focus on his work again, but he can hear her conversation over the soft music that plays.
“Where were you?” The older woman with the red curls asks, handing an apron over.
The waitress makes a wordless noise of frustration and runs her hands through her bleached hair. “Sorry. You know what he can be like.”
“Well make yourself useful.” The redhead hands over a slip of paper, and she starts twisting knobs on the coffee machine.
She appears at his table a couple of minutes later, smiling as she hands his coffee over. “One triple espresso. Not needing the extra double today?”
“Too late in the day for that much caffeine.”
“Here was me thinking you were a hardcore addict.” She grins at him. “No equations today?”
He would rather be marking student work than this endless list. Finalise the grades for the last paper submissions (abysmal with only a couple of exceptions), set the exam questions for the upcoming midterms (no matter what they were, he knew there would be complaints). At least he could cross 'find a quiet work space' off his list. “Life admin unfortunately.”
“Oh they’re the best and worst kind of days. I’ll leave you to get on with it.” She steps away, then spins back with a grin. “Good luck!”
With that she disappears again, circulating around the tables as she clears empties, perfectly balancing a loaded tray in one hand as free hand gesticulates through conversations that must happen in tiny snippets with each visit.
The comforting wash of background conversation is a polar opposite to the shouting that punctuates the air in his office. A sanctuary from the rest of the world.
Three
It had already been busy, a steady stream of customers coming through to get their morning caffeine fix. She and Carolyn work as a well oiled machine, churning out an endless stream of drinks. Latte. Macchiato. Breakfast tea. Matcha latte (iced). Espresso. Filter coffee.
She only needs to make it through a couple more hours, then she can escape to the library and try to work on the bigger problems that constantly swirl around in her head. Here they are replaced with simpler things—making sure the milk for each latte is perfectly steamed and velvety soft, keeping on top of the washing so there are always clean cups to use, topping up the supplies as she uses them.
It keeps her brain quiet and her hands busy, which is exactly what she needs most of the time. This job wasn’t just about the money, although it helped. It was vital for her survival. Hers and the wellbeing of every poor soul stuck working with someone reliant on coffee to get them through the day.
His dry voice cuts through from her mental calculations of milk orders and syrup volumes.
“Five shot espresso please, to go.”
He’s the only person she’d ever known to need five shots of espresso to make it through the morning. She glances up from the latte art she was carefully creating to confirm her suspicion. Dark hair, damp from the rain and tousled into artful disarray by the wind. The sort of bone structure that should be illegal to exist on a guy.
She hands out the latte then pauses for a second. Switches out her routine, taking the coffee grounds from the select roast Carolyn was trialling. If anyone was qualified enough to give them an opinion on it, it would be him.
“Five shot.” She calls out once it’s ready, pretending that she didn’t already know exactly who the coffee was for.
“Thanks.” He takes it appreciatively, inhaling in the steam like it might kickstart the caffeination process. “This smells really good.”
She laughs to herself. “New blend, we need some feedback on it. Let me know what you think next time you’re in.”
He pauses, coffee in hand, his eyes holding hers. “I will.”
Seven
His timetable is gruelling at this time of year. Add in all the other responsibilities and free time becomes something of a mythical creature. Finishing work late and getting home even later, it feels as though his head barely hits the pillow before his alarm is blaring next to his ear.
Coffee is the only thing getting him through the days without committing homicide. Even then, it was a close call most of the time. If it wasn’t so damn hard to dispose of a body without a load of questions he might have already been classified as a serial killer.
Between his colleague, the TAs who were supposed to lighten his workload but were making it worse, and the students who just did not seem to be paying any attention to what he was trying to teach them, he’s about ready to just walk away.
The fancy coffee machine on his counter top remains unused. It was quicker to grab something on the way into the office. Saving the precious few minutes for sleep.
Even if she hadn’t been there the last couple of times.
Not that it was a good reason to go to one particular coffee shop. It was more that she made his coffee precisely how he liked it, and nowhere else in this damn town seemed capable of making anything close. That was all it was.
Just the coffee.
A lie to himself that lasted precisely until the moment she beamed at him from behind the counter as soon as he walked in. He might not be a morning person, but she definitely was.
“How was the special blend? Any notes? Can I tempt you again?” She fires questions at him as she spins the portafilter around in her hand.
Lots of words in rapid succession considering the lack of sleep and caffeine he was currently running on. “Sure.”
“Not a morning person, huh? Five shots it is.” She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear and starts to fire up the coffee machine.
“Normally yes, but not recently.” He pauses, tries to find the right words to catch up with her questions. “It was good. The coffee I mean. Colombian? It had a nice background sweetness to it.”
“Oooooh a fellow purist.” She grins at him. “Most people can’t tell the difference but we wanted to give it a try.”
“You said it yourself, caffeine addict, right?”
“So I did.” She grins at him and holds up a mug. “Are you staying in for this?”
“I need to take-out.” If he had a choice about it, he would stay. Let the coffee start to wake up his brain enough for him to be able to keep up with her. To let the sunshine that she emitted blast away some of the ominous black clouds that seemed to hover over him almost permanently right now.
“Shame. But I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” She smiles warmly as she hands the coffee over.
“See you tomorrow.”
Eight
Early mornings were an easy way to pick up a few extra hours before she headed to campus. It wasn’t like her supervisor, or anyone else in the lab for that matter, was ever there before 11am. So as long as she was there before them, she could fit in her shifts without anyone really noticing. Plus the mornings were busy enough to give her the buzz she needed to get through the rest of the day.
This morning was just like any other.
At least that was what she kept telling herself. Not trusting the way her stomach reacted every time the bell over the door rang. He’d said tomorrow. But everyone said that. It was just a turn of phrase. An easy way to end a completely casual conversation between her and—shit she didn’t even know what his name is.
She needs to get a grip. He’s just a customer, and she’s being a total fool.
Until the bell jangles just after eight and he appears in the doorway. The leather satchel he always carries draped over one shoulder, pulling the neckline of his knitted green jumper just off to the side. She tries not to react, already feeling Carolyn’s eyes on her. Instead she concentrates on the customers in front of her, until her time is up and he’s the one standing there.
“Early start today?” She asks a little too cheerfully.
Even to her it sounds fake, like her customer service voice has taken over and deleted any residual personality. She curses silently, willing herself to just act normally for once in her life.
“Meeting first thing.” He scowls slightly, but his eyes are still soft. A reaction to the day, not to her.
“Takeout again today?”
“Sadly, yes.”
“That’s becoming a habit.” She admonishes him, only half joking.
“Not enough hours in the day.” He shakes his head. “It should be better by next week though.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.” She fires back, earning a grin from him.
“You will. I’ll set up camp at that table in the corner.” He nods towards the table, tucked away next to the window. The perfect little spot to escape into. It's where she sits and studies if she gets the chance on shift. Far enough away from the door that it doesn’t get too cold. Close enough to the counter that Carolyn can easily call on her if she’s needed.
“Good choice,” she leans in, drops her voice to a stage whisper, “it's where I sit when I'm skiving. Just don't tell the boss.”
He grins, a fellow conspirator in their little game. It would be easy to keep playing along, but a cough from behind him interrupts their moment. Reminds her they're not the only people in the world. That there’s a rapidly forming queue of grumpy coffee-deprived customers as well. “What’ll it be today?”
“Dealer's choice.”
“You’re trusting me with your caffeine fix? What if I give you,” she infuses her voice with mock horror, “decaf?”
“I trust you.” He tilts his head to one side. “Or shouldn’t I?”
“Too late now.” She laughs and then shoos him away. “Go to the end so you can’t see what I’m making.”
She ponders the options. A latte was too basic, and not strong enough for Mr Quintuple espresso. Nothing with whipped cream or too sweet.
Espresso base as a starter for sure. Make it long so it stays warm when he’s on his way to wherever he’s studying today.
His tastes seemed pretty simple, but he had a nose for good coffee. He could be easily led into more experimental waters. A twist that will give it the perfect kick.
She grabs the cinnamon and nutmeg. Measures out a double shot of coffee grounds and tamps them down. Then sprinkles half a teaspoon of cinnamon and just a pinch of the nutmeg across the top of the coffee before attaching it to the machine.
The soft aroma of the spices floats into the air around her as the coffee filters through. She uses a spoon to steal a couple of drops, tasting it to check the balance. Coffee is still the predominant flavour, but there’s a background warmth to the flavour profile. Subtle, but perfect.
She moves to place it on the counter, but he beats her to it. His hand wrapping around the cup as she’s still holding it. His fingers brushing against hers, just for a split second, before she releases her grip.
When she looks up, he’s looking right at her. For the first time she notices his eyes are the same deep mossy green as his jumper.
Nine
He had meant to go back sooner. Had wanted to. But between juggling department responsibilities, a brief trip overseas and then dealing with the fallout of the horrendous grades for his most recent pop-quiz, he was ready to drop.
Then today was one of those days. A lecture to a room of stony faced undergrads who either wouldn’t, or more likely, couldn’t answer any of his questions. The final straw was having to listen to his colleague ranting about grad students not spending seventy plus hours in the lab a week just because that’s how it was ‘back in my day’.
He stalks across campus, ready to get into his car and drive home, to lock out the world and be done with everything today.
There’s a soft glow coming from the windows of the coffee shop, open despite the relatively late hour. He doesn’t need the caffeine, and could really do with just going home to bed. His feet carry him towards the lights anyway.
In the evening the place has a completely different vibe. The music is a little louder, the lights a little dimmer. It almost feels like it might be a bar, if the menu wasn’t entirely alcohol free. Couples are dotted around the tables, and there’s a small group in one corner.
She’s there too.
Leaning against the counter with a stack of notebooks open in front of her. The fairy lights wrapped around the menu were something he’d never noticed during the day, but now they cast a soft white light down over the counter. One that caught the pink in the ends of her hair and made it more obvious.
She looks up when the door closes behind him, and then smiles warmly. A smile that felt like it might just be reserved for him and not every other customer who happens to walk through the door.
“Hey stranger.” She closes her notebook and slides it to one side.
He is a stranger. So is she. And he wants to change that. “Five.”
She blinks once and her expression shifts. A crease between her eyebrows the only chink in the mask of indifference. “Oh sure. Yeah. Quint coming right up.”
As she turns to the machine he realises the crossed wire.
“No, that’s my name. I’m Five.”
“Oh.” She shakes her head then laughs. “Five? That’s one hell of a name. I thought you were just being a bit of an asshole to be honest.”
Her honesty is the perfect antidote to his day. Something that he rarely gets from anyone anymore. It’s all about keeping up the appearances of collegiate working, or trying to impress some funding council or other with who you know. “If I ever am, you can call me out on it.”
“Don’t worry, I will.” She pauses, looks him up and down and then tilts her head to one side. “Lila.”
“Lila? Your name or your coffee order?” He shoots back at her, pleased when his joke earns a genuine grin.
She tucks her hair behind her ear. “Definitely my name. What can I get for you?”
“Whatever it was you made me last time. I’ve not been able to stop thinking about it while I’ve been stuck drinking subpar coffee in the office.”
“Let me guess, overbrewed filter coffee and no-one else ever bothers to change out the filter?” She pulls a face of mock disgust. “No wonder you’re so easily pleased.”
She starts moving around with a practised ease, pulling a couple of tins from the shelf behind the counter and grabbing a clean spoon from the pot to her side. She notices him watching and hides one of the tins behind her back. “I won’t give away my secrets that easily you know.”
“Lila, I wasn’t trying to steal your recipe.” He wants to keep saying her name. To feel the way it flows over his tongue, to watch every way she reacts when he does.
“Good.” Her hand stays firmly behind her back and she laughs. “But corporate espionage is a serious crime. And given that you might have given me a false name, I’m going to keep this one close to the chest. Go sit down, I’ll bring it over once it’s ready.”
“I see what it’s really all about. Getting me hooked on the coffee so I keep coming back?”
“Something like that.” She grins and then waves him away with her free hand. “Sit!”
His favourite table is free, so he shrugs his jacket off and hangs it over the back of the slightly over-stuffed armchair. With no laptop or piles of marking, the table looks almost naked. The usual pot of sugar sachets was replaced with a flickering candle.
“Not working tonight?” She appears with his coffee, sliding it onto the table and perching on the seat opposite him. Twisted to be able to watch over the shop, but mostly facing him.
“I needed a night off.”
“Eugh, tell me about it.”
“I didn’t realise you were open so late.”
She rests her chin against her hand. “Carolyn, the one with the red hair?”
He nods in recognition of her description.
“She owns this place, but she lets me try stuff out. I suggested a later finish a couple of nights a week. There aren’t many places on campus that are nice to just spend time in,” she shrugs looking around, “and I don’t mind working when it’s like this. I can get a lot done.”
He remembers the notebook behind the counter, the way her whole attention was on it before he came in. “Am I keeping you from something you need to be doing?”
“No.” She smiles and strums her fingers across the table top. Then shakes her head and groans. “Maybe. Eugh. I have something I need to try and finish.”
“Don’t let me stop you.”
“It’s fine. No, it can wait.” The bell over the door rings. Another customer.
“But they can’t?”
“They can’t. Enjoy the coffee.”
Thirteen
He’d been in a handful more times since that night. But always when she was either rushed off her feet, or he was on his way somewhere. She wants to be able to carve out some time to actually talk to him. To satisfy her need to tease him about his coffee choices, and try to perfect her as yet unfinished special coffee. She tried it herself with a tiny bit of clove added yesterday and it’s close to perfect, but not quite.
Today was a slower paced day at least. Weekends meant fewer people on campus, so the place was usually a little quieter. Time when she could get some work done between customers. Carolyn didn’t mind, she trusted Lila to put the customers first.
Plenty of time to pretend she was working on her latest theory development (doodling in the margins of her notebook) between customers.
The pay here might not be as good as the trendy chain stores in the middle of campus, but the customers were a lot nicer and the tips more than made up for it. Plus she sort of loved this place. It wasn’t devoid of personality, the same design copied and pasted across every store. Instead the knick-knacks on the shelves on one side were ones that the staff brought back from their holidays. The furniture had been hand-picked by Carolyn at flea markets.
She also didn’t have to wear some ridiculous polyester uniform under the guise of consistency. A black apron over her own clothes was fine with Carolyn. Today it was on the t-shirts her band had screen printed as merch for their last gig and her favourite chunky docs.
And they had proper tea. None of this Lipton rubbish. Actual loose leaf tea. With tea pots. It had only taken a couple of weeks of her working to convince Carolyn to add proper chai to the menu. A tiny taste of home in the middle of the big city.
Another perk of working here. Unlimited free drinks. The place is quiet enough that she can take the time to make herself something special. Measuring out the spices, adding in the sugar and slowly pouring hot water over the tea leaves. She hums along to the music in the shop as she does, shimmying her hips to the beat before she spins around to get the cinnamon powder.
Then almost jumps out of her skin when he’s standing at the counter.
“Did you just appear out of thin air?”
The corner of his mouth pulls up into the faintest hint of a smile. “No. Just didn’t want to interrupt.”
Her hand stays on her chest as she tries to catch her breath, to slow her racing heart that’s definitely just from the shock of him suddenly being there. Nothing at all to do with how he looks. Until right now she wouldn’t have said she had a favourite outfit, but that green jumper was back and it suited him. Really suited him. Like looked insanely good in a way that wasn’t fair for knitwear.
Would it be weird to tell him? If he was a friend it would be a totally normal thing to say. ‘Hey that jumper really suits you’. But he wasn’t a friend. Not quite. And she wasn’t entirely sure that friendship was anywhere remotely close to where her brain was taking her right now.
Especially with the little hint of stubble at the edge of his jaw. The rolled up sleeves. The hair that she wanted to run her hands through.
“The usual? How many shots are we feeling today?” Her voice is too fast. Too high. She hopes he’ll just put it down to the scare as she grabs a cup and spins back around.
He looks around her, at the jars of spices and the gently steaming mug. “What are you making?”
“Chai.”
“I’ll have one of those please?”
After she’s dropped it at his table, she waits behind the bar with bated breath. Pretending to herself that she doesn’t care if he likes it or not. But when he takes a sip and smiles to himself, she ducks her head and starts cleaning to hide her own grin.