Coffee Shop AU

Crap he's cute...

Connor sighed drearily, and watched as another beanie-wearing, scarf-covered hipster made their way out of the shop with their overly-complicated order. God, what he wouldn't give to live in a different part of town, a part where the teenagers weren't so... hipster-y.

He had been mistaken for a hipster, on more than one occasion. The eyeliner and long hair did that, but Connor considered it a testament to his punk-rock-iness. Besides, if anyone was going to be hipster, it was that damn Jared.

Jared, the self proclaimed King of Memes, with his square glasses and geek shirts. The little swot had only come in to fix the heater, and by the end of the day he'd landed himself a job. Connor still couldn't wrap his head round it. And it had been a month ago.

One month, two weeks, three days since the turd had sauntered in Connor's life, and made it unnecessarily harder than it needed to be. Not that Connor was counting.

Jared was a good employee; hard-working and on time. Connor was too, but that was because his father would take away his allowance if he missed even one shift. And he needed that allowance.

Of course, Jared had one thing Connor didn't; charm. He could flirt, and schmooze, and put up the rainbow-haired hipsters and their rainbow-coloured drinks. Connor had the temper of a raging bull, and was always a customers last resort.

Well, the regulars, anyway. There were always those Twilight-Fifty-Shades idiots who thought he was cute, and tried to slip him their number.

Half of them were women, so he wouldn't have accepted them anyway.

Anyway, it was a dull Monday morning in the summer holidays, and Connor watched as another hipster made their way out. He turned and started fiddling with the coffee machine-he didn't know why-when the bell above the door dinged.

Letting out a small frustrated groan, he spun on his heel, ready to face whichever annoying customer wanted their caramel-latte-whatchamajig.

And froze.

A boy, hopefully around his age, stood in the doorway, peering around like he had never been in a coffee shop before. His hands twisted together, his fingers knotting themselves around each other like he was trying to figure out an impossible puzzle. Connor swallowed as he took the boy in; dirty blond hair, styled perfectly to the side. Naturally tanned skin, quite a fit body hiding underneath a heavy polo shirt, and what looked like a permanently worried expression.

Connor suddenly became painfully aware of his hurried hair bun, and paint covered shirt. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, to this Adonis in the doorway, when a loud voice interrupted him;

"Hey, Evan!"

Connor twisted his head so fast he thought it would snap, and locked onto a pair of thick glasses, and a geeky shirt.

Kleinman.

Jared waved his arm enthusiastically, calling the boy over, who awkwardly shuffled from the doorway to the counter. He kept his head down, and his shoulders up, never looking away from the dusty floor.

"Hey, hey Jared." He muttered, getting caught on the word 'hey'. Jared flashed him a smile, larger than any he'd given to a customer, and leant over his counter.

"So... small hot chocolate? No cream?" he asked, and Evan nodded. Connor's jaw clenched as he watched Jared natter animatedly to the cute customer, stopping only to fill cups and steam machines and what have you.

Evan didn't stay long, only picking up his hot chocolate, paying and leaving. Connor stared after him, feeling ever so slightly uncomfortable.

Was he jealous?

No. No, that's ridiculous. He'd never had a real reason to be jealous before, other than of his sister. He was Connor Murphy; punk-rock extraordinaire. He didn't get jealous over boys. He didn't get jealous of Kleinman.

But he did glare at Jared every time his back was turned for the rest of the day.

The next day was the same. Evan came in, a different blue polo shirt, and meakly ordered the same thing. Jared chatted loudly with him, and then he left. All the while, Connor stared on, his gut twisting tighter and tighter as he examined the other boy.

Handsome, but he didn't seem to know it. He held himself like he was made of glass, like a single touch from anyone would break him into a million pieces. He seemed so delicate, Connor wasn't sure he wouldn't.

But he was strong too; thick arms, muscle, strong jaw. Connor hated his body, too wiry and bony, but Evan... Evan was perfect. A Greek God, a Roman Soldier, a... a... another historical figure known for their strength. Jewish King?

Whatever.

Soft. Cuddly. Round face, soft stomach. The more Connor thought about him, the more his stomach seemed to flutter. What was happening to him?

He decided to do something about it. And he only knew one person who could help...