larry- one shots

that's not my name

Harry Styles loves his job.

He's been working at Just Around the Corner! for four years, starting out as a busboy and graduating to counter help and keyholder. Eighteen years old and fresh-faced, new to Manchester to start uni, and eager to experience everything he could get his hands on, Harry handed out his CV to every place that had a HIRING stamped across their front entrance. There was a restaurant down the street on the corner that offered Harry a job – and with it a higher pay – before his beloved café did, but Harry held out. A few days later the shop owner James gave him a call with a quick, "you're hired, you start tomorrow!", and since then his days have been filled with the smell of coffee and the bustle of his own uni life plus all his lovely customers.

Well.

Not all Harry's customers are lovely, if he's being honest. There's Ms. Motts who's hunched over with narrow eyes and a sharp tongue that lashes out at anything that seems out of sorts – including other people's personal preference in love, how loud the music is, and the mole on Liam's neck. She's quite rude and Harry doesn't like that much, so instead of giving her overly cheery customer service, she only gets "normal" cheery customer service. It's not really Harry's style, but it's either that or throwing coffee in her face after another rude remark about the two girls in the corner cuddling.

It's not just Ms. Motts who grates on Harry's nerves, there are a fair amount. It surprises Liam because Harry is the most patient person he's ever known, or so he says. There are the new kids to uni, still stuck up from their A-Levels and rich fathers, the annoying twelve year old boy who deliberately kicks over the "Wet-Floor" sign that's up every so often, and then there's Him.

"He's not God, Harry," Liam says, "he has a name."

"I don't care," Harry says, crossing his eyes at Liam. "You know how rude he is, he's always on the phone and speaks to us like we're way beneath him. You don't like him either. Clean that spot in the corner, please."

Liam sighs, and swipes a wet rag across the counter, dirtying it up more than cleaning it, and fixes Harry with a look. It's a look that Harry knows to mean he's about to start a very long speech, so he just grabs a new dish cloth, sprays the counter and gets to work.

He listens vaguely to Liam, a light drone over his own thoughts, as he runs through the day. A Tuesday, which means it'll be quite busy right as they open. As most students think that Tuesdays are more important than Mondays, and will thus need either a coffee with extra espresso or three teas with no milk lots of sugar to start their morning.

"All I'm saying," Liam is saying, finishing his speech, "is that he's a stranger and you shouldn't have these feelings for a stranger."

Harry groans, a long, annoying, put-on groan that has Liam cringing beside him. Four years of friendship is really helpful in the How To Annoy Your Friends When They're Annoying You handbook.

"I don't have feelings for him," Harry says, glancing at the clock. It's half five, which is entirely too early to be awake for normal people, yet definitely favours Harry's internal body clock. Even back when he lived with his parents he was up early every day, even on Saturdays, so the café suits him quite well.

Harry flips the CLOSED sign to OPEN and unlocks the door, sweeping his eyes across the café to make sure it's clean and ready for the bustle of the day.

"You might not have feelings for him, but you do have that weird thing," Liam says, leaning on the counter. His elbows are smudging marks on the counter top; Harry stares at them until he takes them off.

"It's not a weird thing," Harry says flippantly, crouching down in front of the baked goods display to make sure everything looks aesthetically pleasing. The donuts are perfectly plump, the rolls are perfectly frosted, and the cookies look so perfectly chewy Harry's mouth might be watering just a little.