black coffee // kaveh x alhaitham

meow

The cafe was in utter chaos.

Rush hour had come quicker than anticipated, Kaveh's hair clips practically gripping on for dear life as he flung around the counter to take orders and make various coffee.

He stared blankly at the woman reciting her "One pump vanilla... One pump cinnamon..." Order before the gears started turning in his head and his fingers flew across the screen to print the receipt. 

"That'll be twenty five mora."

She slammed her hands down onto the counter, "Twenty five?!"

"Ma'am, with all due respect, you ordered every syrup we have and one of every topping." Kaveh with the rest of his sanity spoke.

The cafe had a very cozy atmosphere, it was perfect for university students to catch up on their work and for middle aged women to read out their declaration of independence length orders before going ballistic at the price. 

"You think it's okay to speak to your customers like that?!" She almost looked like a steam train, "I know the owner!"

"You know the owner? Me too!" Kaveh smiled, his brain ready to turn to mush.

After a short back and fourth, the faint sounds of a coffee machine and clinking syrup bottles as background noise, the woman paid for her drink and left with a grumble. Venti popped up, wiping his forehead, "That's a lot of work!"

Kaveh sighed, shaking his head, "Go get Kazuha from the bathroom, I know he's probably hot boxing the staff stall but we need him out here."

Venti saluted, "Yes, sir!" Before dashing off towards the back of the shop.

As the rush slowed down, Kaveh thought to wipe off the sweat beads on his forehead, not only from the unwanted cardio but the effect of hot drinks steaming into his face. But before he could do that, the front door rung out once again.

"Welcome to Chiori's cafe, how can I help you?"

A well dressed man was at the door, approaching the counter as his grey hair was swept out of his face by a gloved hand. The button up he was in looked tight on his muscular arms with every move looking like he was about to rip a seam. He was attractive.

Just as Kaveh was imagining their future together, he opened his 'I've never worked a day in my life' mouth, "Can I get some service here?"

Oh, alright. "I'm right here." Kaveh piped up, waving as an exaggeration.

"Black."

The barista blinked, "What?"

"A black coffee." The voice he spoke in practically dripped with money, Kaveh holding back a scoff as he pressed a button and ripped the receipt.

"Three mora, please."

He put out a friendly hand to collect the money, just for the coins to clatter onto the counter instead. Kaveh had to bite back a remark as he picked up the coins one by one, putting them into the cash register before moving to make the coffee.

That was just the start of this encounter.

He could practically feel the gaze of the man staring holes into him, every time he moved he felt as if he was being highly analysed for some scientific discovery of what an overworked barista looked like. Was he going to turn on the news tomorrow and see: 'New shocking discovery: Coffee makers are overworked!'?

The powder was sifted into the mug, and as Kaveh poured in the hot water, the irking voice interjected.

"Too much water, remake it."