Sterek Library (a03 Edition)

The Customer Ain't Always Right

By: trilliath on tumbrl

Sometimes he really hates his sister. His phone vibrates for the third time and he sighs, tearing his eyes away from the guy behind the counter to read the latest messages.

Cora: RU gonna do it?
Cora: U HAVE TO SOMETIME
Cora: DOOOO ITTTTTTTT
Cora: TODAY. OR U WILL DIEEEE

Derek: False

Cora: TRUE. YOU CANNOT SURVIVE PINING MUCH LONGER
Cora: U CANNOT KISS CUTE COFFE BOY UNTIL YOU PROFESS YOUR DESPERATE NEED TO KISS CCB

She does, however obnoxiously, have a point there.

Cora: on the other hand if he shoots u down I won't have my coffee bitch anymore.
Cora: nvm
Cora: be chickenshit and keep pining and bringing me free coffee
Cora: tho u could actually ask him his name at least

Also a fair point. The guy's nametag starts with an S, but the rest of the name has been painted over with whiteout and an unintelligible scribble of letters laid overtop it.

Derek puts his phone back in his pocket as the young woman ahead of him in line finishes giving her order. He waits for a moment as the girl drifts sideways as she fiddles with getting her credit card back into her wallet. It also gives him a chance to try and gather his courage a bit before he'll have to step up and speak actual words of some sort. The girl moves before he's decided which awkward sentence to go with, and he feels the sinking sensation of it being too late to salvage as the space opens in front of him.

Before he can step forward to face the stupidly-attractive barista, however, the door to the coffee shop bangs shut loudly and a man in an expensive suit and pretentiously rectangular designer glasses pushes past him to step up to the counter.

"Uh," Derek says faintly. He glances back over his shoulder to confirm that yes, there are in fact no less than three people standing behind him still in the line. And that it's pretty clearly a line.

"I need a soy-latte, triple-shot with one pump of sugar-free van-"

"Next in line, please!" Cute Coffee Boy calls out, ignoring the man in front of him and turning a markedly innocent expression in Derek's direction. But his eyes are sparkling with mischief.

"Hello!" Douchebag says, snapping his fingers in the air between them. "Right here, kid."

"Yes sir, I see you there. And I'll take your order in..." He leans over to glance at the remaining line. "Four more people. Whoops! Five now. Better get in line before it's six."

The asshole glares over his shoulder impatiently and sneers, actually sneers at the people waiting.

"Look, these people can wait for a couple minutes before they go to their yoga class or salon appointment or collecting unemployment or whatever. I don't have time to wait. I've got a very important meeting in five minutes."

"That's nice," S says slowly, in a voice that says he thinks it's anything but.

"So. Take my order."

"I'd be happy to. In about five more people," S says again, over-pronouncing the words.

Douchenozzle stands there, astonished, glaring at the young man in his crisp blue apron.

In a move that has his thin grey tee clinging to his biceps and highlighting the breadth of his shoulders, Cute Barista crosses his arms across his chest, staring back with his long, dark eyebrows lifted.

"Dude, the longer you stand there, the later you're going to be. Go on. Back of the line," he says, making a shooing gesture with one hand.

"Do you have any idea who I am?"