Chapter Text
“Hey, where do you want me to leave this package, Miss Blacklocke?”
“Oh, you can just drop it in the back! Have you gotten a coffee yet?”
“Nah, I wanted to try to make sure everything was set to open for the day.”
Your boss, a small woman who seems more feline than human sometimes, drops down from the ladder in the front of the house, shoving a dust rag into her back pocket.
“Your usual?” she asks with a grin.
“You don’t need to-“
“I know! You focus on what you’re doing, I’ll make your coffee. And a breakfast sandwich.”
“Miss Blacklocke, please-“ you start, but she shushes you.
“Do you really want to deal with the 5 AM breakfast crowd with an empty stomach and no caffeine?”
You fall silent, and she lets out a bubbly laugh.
You’ve been working at this new café that recently opened just a bus ride away from your apartment for a few weeks now, having jumped on the opportunity to work there instead of the gas station. The owner is a bit of an odd one, with long dark hair and eyes that seem to penetrate your soul. She’s got a soft heart though, and she takes care of you without a second thought.
Her coffee and tea also happen to kick ass, and she typically sends you home with a bag of ground beans every week. The pay is good, too.
“Hey, check this out!”
You turn and head to the back of house, where she stands holding your coffee in one hand and a box cutter in the other.
“So I just got these in! Think we can start selling them?” she asks, motioning to the box you brought in.
You peer into it, and your nose is hit by the smell of something light and clean, with the twist of her catnip tea, and you breathe deeply.
“Soap?”
“Yep! And some soy candles! I thought it might be fun to give some cute little products like this a go.”
“I think the Rosa Mystica is going to be the most popular coffee shop in town. Seriously, are you a witch or something?” you joke. She winks at you and hands you a candle and jar of soap.
“Wait, are you sure? I-“
“Just take it! You work so hard, I can’t help but want to give you something extra,” she says with a wave of her hand.
With that, the music in the store starts up, letting the two of you know that you have five minutes until the doors open, so you put your goodies in your bag and head out front, shoving a breakfast sandwich in your mouth.
Your boss opens the doors, and you stretch and give your fingers a wiggle as the first couple of customers trickle in. One is a regular who seems to be a friend of your boss, and the other is someone you’re certain you’ve seen before, but you can’t seem to recall. He’s staring at you, and you turn your attention to your boss’s friend.
“Hey there! Welcome in, what can I get started for you?” you ask. He shakes his head; and you think that he has always been off-putting, but in the sense that he is in tune with something far beyond you. He’s nice and he tips well, though.
“Elsie already knows my order, child,” he says. His voice has the quality of flames, and you aren’t really sure how to elaborate beyond that, but you grin at him regardless, and he returns your friendliness with a nod.
The Staring Guy is now approaching the register, much to your horror, and his unwavering grin seems to widen impossibly as he regards you.
Seconds tick by.
You sweat nervously.
His eyes flick up and down your face.
“Hi.”
“Can I help you?!” you ask, a bit more sharply than you meant to.
“What’s your name?”
You stare at him, mouth agape, before telling him, still confused.
“That’s definitely one of the names I’ve heard.”
What???
“Mine’s-“
You wince, feeling as thought your mind was just assaulted, and you’re certain Elsie would say you just took psychic damage.
“But you can call me John Doe.”
“Right. Uh. John Doe…what can I get for you?” you ask, somehow already exhausted. His gaze looks dreamy, as though he’s floating on cloud nine, and you’re desperately hoping that Elsie will step in. His grin remains plastered on his face, and you take a moment to assess him; he’s not too tall, taller than you, in any case, and his dark hair seems to be moving on its own.
You can’t help but think he’s a bit cute, in a gross, stalker kind of way.
Doe is looking at the menu now, and looks back up at you, eyes wide and curious.
“What’s this? The Grave Robber? Does this place sell grave robbers? That’s weird,” he says.
“The Grave Robber is something Elsie came up with, I guess. It’s twelve shots of espresso and a dash of cream served over ice. She warned me not to drink it unless I want to be able to smell colors, though,” you explain.
“I’ll take one.”
“Dude, you’re gonna die.”
“’There are no predetermined deaths’,” he says in an almost sagely way, and you helplessly punch in the order. He pays without any further disturbances to your sanity, and you proceed to slip into your element, pulling shots and enjoying the sounds of the Rosa Mystica.
Meanwhile, Elsie is talking to Doe, asking him if he’s been in before, if there’s anything she can get for him; she’s playing the part of a gracious hostess, and you’d be impressed if you hadn’t seen her do it every weekday for the past seven weeks.
“One Grave Robber for John Doe!” you call, setting his order on the counter. He moves past Elsie in a surprisingly quick motion, and she doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest, simply going to take the next customer’s order.
“Enjoy!” you say, slapping a smile onto your face.
The smile is short-lived, and quickly replaced with shock as Doe proceeds to shotgun the entire drink without taking a breath.
He didn’t even break eye contact with you.
“That’s very coffee!” he says, speaking even faster than he had to begin with.
“Miss Blacklocke, I think we might have a situation,” you say, getting her attention. She glances at him and blinks.
“Oh, he’s vibrating.”
“Are you doing anything after work? Maybeyoucouldmakemeanotherofthosegraverobberdrinks, IreallyenjoyedthisoneandIdon’tmindpayingforanotherthepricesherearen’tthatbadafterallandifyou’retheonemakingit-“
You cut him off with a finger pressed gently to his lips, and his cheeks redden.
“Nope. No, not happening, I’m cutting you off, Mister,” you say, and while you’re adamant, there’s something amused in your tone that Doe picks up on, and he melts a bit.
“Oh, since you’re not doing anything after work, we could hang out! Do you like TV?” he asks, as though responding to a completely different line of conversation.
“Yeah, yeah, sure, TV good, I really need to help these other customers,” you say helplessly looking at your growing line of caffeine-starved customers.
Doe is elated, and practically sprints out the door, leaving the sweet tinkling of bells in his wake.
“Are you sure you feel safe hanging out with him?” asks Elsie as the two of you fall into your morning groove. You sigh.
“I panicked. I’m sorry, Miss Blacklocke, I just never seem to be able handle conflict at all,” you sigh. She pats your shoulder sympathetically.
“If you need me to, I can tell him to back off. If nothing else, I can drive you home,” she says, clearly worried. You shake your head though.
“He’s probably harmless. Weird, but harmless. It’d do me some good to make friends, anyway,” you say with a shrug.
“Well. Alright. But you have my number if you need a rescue,” she says seriously.
You almost want to cry; Elsie looks after your well-being in a way that even your own parents didn’t, and the warm feeling in your chest feels overwhelming.
“Hey, take five, okay? Things have slowed down, I’ve got this,” she says, gently pushing you to one of the window seats.
You park yourself on your favorite pouf and pull out your phone, trying to collect yourself. You aren’t even surprised to find a cup of catnip tea in front of you when you look at the low table in front of you.
The chill music, the comfortable lighting, the soft texture of your seat, and the scent of tea and coffee around you finally lull you into a state of relaxation, and you feel ready to jump right back into work, although you admit that the way the rain hits the window has you wanting to take a cozy nap. You aren’t about to abandon your boss, though.
The hours seem to fly by as you pull shot after shot, brew and serve tea, and chat with your regulars. The reviews are all in a similar vein, stating that the coffee shop is a place of comfort in the weirdness of Uncanny Valley, although it’s not without its quirks.
You’re thankful, though. Certainly, you still get weird customers, and the early morning hours suck, but it’s not the gas station, and you know your boss would probably get into a knife fight with God at 3AM in a Denny’s parking lot for you.
“Hi.”
You’re startled from your reverie by none other than John Doe, who seems to be a bit on edge with Elsie’s sharp gaze fixed on him.
“Oh, hey. We’re closing soon; did you need something?” you ask.
“You get off work soon, so that means we can hang out, right?” he asks. You hesitate before shrugging.
“Yeah, I’m game. Meet me at the bus stop at six, okay?”
“I’ll wait here!” he chirps, moving to one of the window nooks. You sigh, and opt to start closing things down for the evening, but you can’t help but notice your boss is suddenly very intent on questioning your new….friend.
“Hello.”
“Hi.”
“I certainly hope you aren’t giving my adorable employee a hard time,” she says, and you opt to slow down and listen in.
“Nope. I’m just a regular guy!” he answers cheerfully, and you hear your boss laugh.
“Well, that’s good. Say, can you do me a big favor?”
“Huh?”
“They have an early shift, so can you make sure they’re able to get home safely tonight? I’d really appreciate it. They’re my star barista after all!”
Doe looks elated, but you’re acutely aware of the veiled threat in Elsie’s sugar-coated words. He may have heard her simply asking him to make sure you get home safely, but you’ve known her for long enough to recognize that she’s basically said that if you don’t show up to work, he’ll have signed his own death warrant.
You giggle a bit, but also feel relieved. Because work gives you a consistent schedule, it’s not hard to notice a deviation from your usual routine.
You finish wiping down the countertops, and head toward the door.
“I’ll lock up tonight. You have a good one, and I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow!” sings your boss.
You definitely hear the hidden, “or else,” directed at Doe.
Walking to the bus stop is a pretty quiet affair, although you can’t help but notice the way your compatriot seems to let out happy sighs from time to time.
“So…you uh. You like coffee?” you ask.
“I like you!” he says.
“Oh. Thank you.”
“Do you like me?” he asks, and you nearly trip at how suddenly he’s in your face.
“I mean, I just met you, but you uh. You’re really close, my guy,” you say, stepping back a bit.
“Am I?”
He’s looming, and your heart futters a bit, and his grin softens a bit.
“Are you scared?”
“I-I’m not scared!”
“Do you like being scared?” he asks, gently taking a lock of your hair between his thumb and forefinger.
“Sometimes? I like scary movies, but like…I don’t know,” you trail off. He presses a small kiss to the lock of hair between his fingers.
“You’re cute when you’re scared.”
You swat at him playfully.
“Behave, you brat,” you laugh.
The two of you carry on like this even as you board the bus to your apartment, and while you’re still a bit creeped out by him, you can’t help but find Doe’s antics amusing.
“Okay, okay, so hear me out: we make the candles edible,” you suggest after showing Doe the candle you got at work.
“Wait, the candles aren’t edible?”
You wheeze a bit.
“My guy, please DON’T eat the candle.”
“You smell nice, did you know that?”
“You trying to give me whiplash?” you ask with a raised eyebrow. He tilts his head in confusion.
“What do you mean?”
“You just change conversation topics on a dime,” you explain. His smile falters a bit.
“Oh. Sorry?”
“Nah, it’s kind of cute. Just a bit hard to get used to. Not like I talk to people much to begin with,” you say with a wave of your hand. His grin is back in full force.
“You think I’m cute?!”
“D-don’t let it go to your head! You’re just. A funny and weird guy. Shut up,” you mutter, turning away from him to hide your blush.
“Hey, don’t hide from me! I can still see your cute face!” he teases, reaching for your wrists.
The two of you are interrupted by a man who appears to be glitching slightly, but he seems warmed by your shenanigans.
“Ah, young love.”
“We’re not-“
“Thank you!” replies Doe politely.
By the time the two of you reach your apartment, your cheeks hurt from grinning, but the aches from work are also setting in. You wince a bit as you unlock your door, and Doe tilts his head at you.
“Is everything okay, dearest?”
“Mm, I’m fine, just a bit sore from work.”
You set your bag down on a nearby table before flopping onto your couch.
“Make yourself comfy,” you say, muffled by a pillow.
You’re surprised by a warm hand finding its way to your shoulder and applying the perfect amount of pressure to the muscle just near your scapula. You melt into the touch and let out a very graceful mumble.
“Oh my god, you’re literally the best.”
You could fall asleep like this, and while there is a voice in the back of your mind shrieking “STRANGER DANGER,” you’re feeling so comfortable and relaxed that you really can’t be bothered to care.
The sound of your TV clicking on makes you turn your head to face it, and you feel a weight suddenly smoosh onto your body. It occurs to you that Doe has opted to flop onto you like some kind of strange, dubiously fleshy blanket.
“Pfft. Comfy?” you tease.
“You did tell me to make myself comfy,” he says, bonking his head against yours.
“True. I wasn’t expecting you to just drop onto me, though.”
“I like being close to you. You smell nice.”
“I probably smell like sweat and coffee.”
“Yeah! You smell nice!”
You turn over so that you can face him, and he seems content to remain where he is.
“So…John Doe…what’s your deal? Why me?”
He thinks for a bit.
“Everything about you. It draws me in. You feel it too, right? There’s something between us.”
You fall silent, and stare into his eyes, searching for some hidden motive, but you find nothing.
“You do, don’t you?” he prompts you again.
You open your mouth to tell him that you aren’t certain yet, but you find words that aren’t yours spilling out in your voice.
“I do. I like you, John Doe!”
You clap your hand over your mouth and stare at him as his own gaze goes soft and lovestruck.
“Can I stay over?”
You wiggle underneath of him and gently tap his arm.
“I have work in the morning,” you remind him sternly.
“You want me to.”
You’re offended at him simply assuming, but you’re arguably more offended because he’s right, and that annoys you.
“You can sleep on the couch, but fair warning, I have an early morning.”
“That’s fine! I’ll just watch you!”
“What?”
“Shh, don’t worry. I’ll make sure you sleep safe and sound!”
Your stare is withering, but Doe seems oblivious, focused entirely on how soft your skin feels.
“Right…okay…ground rules: don’t do anything skeevy while I sleep.”
He looks bothered by the very idea, which is definitely cause for relief.
“Only if you want me to.”
“Sloooow down there. We literally just met today.”
“But I already know everything about you,” he says in a way that’s more a statement of fact than it is persuasion.
“Fair, but I don’t know anything about you besides the fact that you apparently eat candles, and your real name causes psychic damage.”
“I like teeth!” he supplies pleasantly.
Somehow, you feel like it’s going to be a long night.
You’ve never been more grateful about having access to all the coffee you could ever consume.