Espresso [Sheyles AU]

Prologue: Order Up

George shifts his black apron from one hip to the other, struggling to pull his trusty black Sharpie from his pant's pocket whislt simultaneously listening out for the obnoxious beep of the espresso machine behind him.

Retrieving the permanent marker, he plucks a plastic coffee cup from a dwindling stack -- mentally noting that he'll half to go the stock room to refill them before his boss gets back from her lunch break -- before uncapping the utensil with his teeth and pressing it against the smooth, white material.

He recaps the marker when he's finished scribbling his small love note to the customer across the room, mindlessly fiddling with his watch and tapping his oxfords against the white tile. Emerald eyes momentarily flicker to meet George's brown ones, but not before he's blushing furiously and setting the cup aside.

The espresso machine's cries filling the entire coffee shop -- which is admittedly small -- George sets to work streaming the liquid caffeine into the customized coffee cup, topping it off with the whipped cream that makes the espresso con panna the boy had ordered, an espresso con panna. After fumbling with the lid, George snaps it into place, giving his note a once over before returning to the counter.

Inhaling an enamored breath, George hollers, "Harry, order up!"

The boy sitting across the room uncrosses his ankles, stands up straight, and shuffles towards the counter. His spindly fingers brush lightly across George's as he reaches out for his drink, taking it from the dopily smiling employee.

With a curt nod of his head, he leaves the lovesick boy with the messy, sweat-matted mop of brunette hair at the counter, taking a sip at his scalding hot drink as the bells on the front door jingle above him.

Padding out onto the rain-slicked pavement, he gives the small note he's come to expect a read, chuckling to himself and shaking his head; he's always thought George was rather cute, but in an innocent, childish kind of way.

Have a good day, beautiful.

Love,
George xx

Harry trudges on, smiling to himself as he sips at his drink, using it to warm his numbing fingers. Truthfully, George's notes on his daily espresso are anything but unwelcomed; stuck in a dead-end job with hardly enough money to pay for his flat, he needs all the uplifting he can get.

If only George weren't so young, Harry dwells as he continues towards his place of work (two blocks down and around the corner), and adorable.

George, on the other hand, sits up against stacked carboard boxes in the stock room, biting his lower lip and pondering how Harry could be so painfully unresponsive towards his obvious advances. Kicking a stack of brown napkins -- that go sailing into the air, floating down in a flurry -- George pouts, curling his knees to his chest.

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a/n: i got excited, so i wrote up a prologue.

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thank you,
JMD x