One More Cup Of Coffee

Winston O'Boogie

John stood at the counter, resting his chin on his fist and doodling on a napkin. Business was slow. It was a crisp Tuesday night so obviously most people would be spending their time in a coffee shop.

"Ringo?" John groaned, "I'm fucking bored can we just close early no ones-"

The little bell on the door rang, cutting John off.

And in walked an angel.

A beautiful, tired looking, poorly dressed angel.

The angel man walked towards John carrying a bag and a stack of books.

"Can I have the strongest, most caffeinated drink you have?" The man rubbed his eyes, his gorgeous hazel eyes.

"Ringo!! Get this lad some caffeine!!" John shouted, handing a mug to his coworker.

"Thank you," the tired man collapsed onto a stool and began vigorously typing on his laptop.

John stared at him with a stupid grin, resting his chin on his fists. If he was this beautiful when he was tired and stressed out, how stunning would he be when he was well rested and happy??

He brushed his hair out of his eyes and a bit of his shirt slipped down, exposing his collarbone and making John weak in the knees. "What're ya working on, la?"

The man's kaleidoscopic eyes flicked up to him. "Me?"

John rolled his eyes, taking the mug from Ringo and handing it to Mr Angel Face. "No the other cute guy in the shop. Yes you!"

"Cute?" His pale freckled cheeks went rosy, "I'm just doing schoolwork, y'know. Thank you," he muttered, taking the mug like it was the holy grail.

He tentatively sipped on the beverage, undoubtedly burning his tongue. John leaned forward over the counter a bit to get closer to the man. "What's your major?" Wow he's adorable when he blushes...

"English." He said absentmindedly, eyes glued to his computer, "I wanna be a teacher."

"I'm an art major," John smiled, "But English is boss. I love the classics. 'Specially Oscar Wilde, Lewis Carroll, and Edgar Allen Poe. Also poetry. I dig Dylan Thomas."

The man looked at him exasperated, "Listen mate, you're real sweet, but this is due tonight and I'm only halfway done with it."

John had to admit, his feelings were a bit hurt, but it was understandable. "Oh- well cheers I guess." He trudged over to where Ringo was in the back room.

"You alright there Johnny boy?" Ringo asked, patting him on the shoulder with his ringed fingers.

He sighed. "I guess so... The hot customer was too busy for me."

"It's alright mate!! There's loads of hot guys!!"

"But he's so cute... and he studies English!! I bet he smells nice too... and he's probably really neat and tidy..."

Ringo sighed, "John, you can't fantasise about someone you're probably never gonna see again."

"Too late!" John grinned, skipping back out to Mr Angel Face.

The man glanced up at him, "Oh you're back, lovely. Could I have another cuppa?"

John nodded and took the man's cup, handing it back to Ringo.

"I'm sorry I was a dick earlier," Mr Angel Face apologised and John handed him his mug, "I'm just y'know stressed and tired."

"You nearly done with it, then?" John asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"Cause it's almost closing time, ye blert," he laughed slightly.

The man blushed adorably, "Oh- sorry-"

John grinned crookedly, "Nah, 's alright, mate. I can keep it open a few extra minutes if you need it."

He smiled softly, and John's head nearly exploded from the cuteness. "Thank you..."

"No problem," John tapped his fingers against the counter boredly before deciding to re- put up his bun hastily held together by two pencils.

I'm so fucking bored... wonder what Mr Angel Face's actual name is... is he single? Is he gay? Yeah probably... oh yup, he's gay, he's got a little pride pin on his bag...

John's continuous stream of thoughts was cut off by the man's phone ringing.

"George, I'm fine, relax mate," he spoke. "I don't need you to pick me up, I can walk. See you at home. Ta."

"Hate to be that guy, but it's pouring rain, lad," John chuckled.

The man looked behind him at the window, "Oh..."

"I can give you a ride if you need one," John told him, trying not to sound too excited.

"Oh, I don't wanna be a burden," he said, closing his laptop and shoving it in his bag.

"You're not a burden, love," John cursed himself internally for calling a stranger a pet name, "Plus if you go walking out there, your books are gonna get soaked."

"What if you're secretly a murderer and this is how you get all your victims?"

"I don't wanna kill Uni students, they already have enough of a death wish," John laughed, "Plus I own four cats."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Nothing really, I'm just saying I'm a huge softie and I would hurt anyone on purpose."

"Alright then..."

John grinned, "I've just gotta go tell Ringo that I'm leaving."

"I heard," Ringo shouted from the back.

John put his apron on the hook and jumped over the counter with a smile. He grabbed the man's stack of books and papers and led Mr Angel Face to his car. 

"Before I get into the car of a stranger, what's your name?"

"Winston O'Boogie," John deadpanned.

The man snorted, "I'm positive that's fake but I'm Paul."

John grinned, "Paul..."

Paul got into the passenger seat and buckled his seatbelt, "So... are you gonna tell me your real name?"

"Come to the shop again and I will," John winked. "Now, where do you live, Paulie?"

"Just Paul."

"Yeah, Paulie, that's what I said," John smirked.

"Take a left here," Paul sighed.

John continued to steal glances at Paul, still as tired and beautiful as ever.

"I like Dickens, Nicholas Nickleby is my favourite," Paul said out of nowhere.

"What?"

"You were talking about your favourite books before I cut you off. I like Dickens, Chaucer, and Allen Ginsburg best," he smiled.

"I got a Chaucer book ages ago, same time I bought Finnegan's Wake, James Joyce, y'know. I didn't like the Chaucer as much, but the Joyce was incredible, really experimental," John looked over to see Paul grinning at him widely, "What?"

"Nothing... No one's talked books with me in forever..." Paul smiled again, "Oh, we're here-"

John's heart sunk a bit as Paul gathered his things and stepped out of the little car. "See you later?" John rolled down his window to say.

"See you later," Paul affirmed, "Winston O'Boogie..."