Inspiration

Chapter 1- He Who Shall Not Be Named?

     "Try to relax" Liam told his co-worker.  Oliver took a deep breath and nodded.  It's been two weeks since Fink hired him and the shy, awkward boy is finally starting to learn his way around the register.  Sort of.

     Liam is being unreasonably patient with him, Oliver would have fired himself a week and a half ago.  But that's how Liam is.  Calm, understanding, nice... Otherwise, there's no way he and Fink would be in the same room together, much less be best friends.

     As if on cue, the bright-eyed, bed-head blonde came bursting through the door of the shop, his shirt on backwards, his jeans ripped at the knees and flip flops that Liam can pretty much swear he's had since high school.  

"Hey Guys" Connor Finkle said, with a big grin, and a wink. 

"Hey" Oliver replied, but Fink wasn't listening.  He returned LIam's amused smirk and went to the back to start pulling out the pastries and other treats he'd finished around midnight last night.  

"Does he know his shirt is on backwards?" Oliver asked with innocent brown eyes. Liam just smiled.

The open sign was flipped around and people started pouring in.  Oliver taking orders, Liam serving drinks and Fink, in the back, working on treats for the lunch rush later.  Liam was working on a somewhat complicated order when he heard banging behind him.  He glanced over his shoulder, Oliver couldn't get the register open, and was blushing like crazy.  The ridiculously gorgeous girl on the other side of the counter was trying to fight off a smile, her gray eyes sparkling.

Liam reached over pressing one of the green buttons on the register, and the drawer popped open.  He didn't wait for a reaction, it was far too busy in the bakery, and he knew Oliver was embarrassed.  He picked up the order he'd been working on, called out her name, and handed the responder her order, before reaching for the next cup and receipt.  

He began pouring the ingredients into the blender.  He could hear voices, but he'd tuned out what they were saying, easier to focus that way.  The mix was almost complete when he heard a woman practically shouting at Oliver.

"No! Not that one you twit!" Obviously caught off guard, Oliver jumped, the pastry and tongs flying from his hand.  The pastry hit the floor at Liam's feet, and the tongs hit the mixer just right (Just wrong), and without the lid, the liquids went flying, spraying all over both boys. 

Liam reacted quickly, and shut it off.  Oliver's cheeks were impossibly red, and he was scared this had been the last straw.  The final blow.  His end.  But then Liam looked down at what used to be his white tee shirt and laughed.  And Oliver's shoulders started to relax.

"Sorry Liam" he managed to breathe out.

Liam shook his head, and waved him back over to the register.  He tossed a couple towels down on the floor, they could clean it up when it was less busy in here, and he started over with his mixture.

About 2 drinks later, he completed a simple hot chocolate, and turned the cup around in search of the name.  Oliver's somewhat readable handwriting had written "Lord Voldemort".  He smiled, and decided to play along.  

"He who shall not be named?" He called, setting the drink up on the counter, reaching for a lid underneath.  He set the lid on, and glanced up to see the gorgeous gray eyed girl.  She had long, wavy dark brown hair pulled in a pony-tail over her shoulder, and she was wearing a fitted black tee shirt and a burgundy leather jacket.  She gave him a sort of shy smile before taking her coffee and disappearing through the crowd.

He ran his hand through his damp, chocolate colored hair, and moved onto the next order.