Chapter Text
So many new things are on Misty’s mind. Not the coffee-making, she had plenty of experience doing that for herself at home. What she is finding stressful is the newly added pressure to perform well in a fast-paced environment. It doesn’t help that there were some aggravated customers, nor the hot weather, let alone that it was only her second shift. Hell, could she really last until college? She would have to, or else her dream of getting a degree might as well stay a dream.
She's shaken from her thoughts when someone in Old Skool Vans saunters towards her and leans their forearms on the counter. They’re wearing a couple black hair ties on their wrist, but it’s their mala bead bracelet that clinks on the counter. Misty puts her customer service voice on– clear and saccharine.
“Hi, how can I help you today?”
“Hey! I’m good, thanks.” She didn’t even ask how their day was, were they even listening? Misty looks the customer up and down. She pauses– would it be disrespectful to presume that they wanted an iced strawberry matcha?
The customer resumes, “You know, this is a scene straight out of a movie. One of us is supposed to fall head over heels for the other.” Seeing that their charms have had their desired effect on her, they continue. “For this meet cute, you can decide who falls for who. I’m a romantic, so I can play whichever part. What will it be?” They really liked to lay it on thick, didn’t they? It was starting to bother her.
She purposefully tries to end their shenanigans and help them get to the point. “I want you to take initiative and order what you want.”
“So, you?” They lean in closer, and their voice drops to a murmur. “In all seriousness, a hot chocolate, please. But could you announce it as a different drink when you give it to me? You know, it's kinda embarrassing ordering a hot chocolate instead of a coffee at this age.”
Fine, she'd play along with their antics, as long as it sped up the process. “All good, regular or large?”
“Just regular.” They seem so easygoing, despite the tomfoolery.
“And what name should I put it under?”
“How about ‘the love of your life’?” they say with a wink. Misty isn't phased by this, she has dealt with this customer’s strangeness already, and she was sure there would be worse to come.
“Sure, it shouldn't be too long.” The customer steps away and begins to scroll on their phone.
Misty puts the milk into the appropriate pitcher and then scoops out three heaped teaspoons of hot chocolate powder to add in. She steams it until it begins to hurt to hold, and then pours the mixture in a cup. Finally, Misty dusts the top with some chocolate sprinkles and seals on the lid.
“I’ve got a latte ready for.” Was she really going to do this? With a sigh of regret, she says, “The love of my life.”
The person walks over to collect it. “Thanks, sweetheart! I can already feel something brewing between us.” Before Misty can react to whatever the hell that line was, the customer picks up the cup and their silver rings catch on the sides. The drink spills all over the counter, and on her. It's fucking searing- despite the customer's request for a kid drink, she made it adult temperature, much to her current regret.
“Shit!” This day is not going as well as she had hoped. It's then she remembers. Her manager had ordered a staff apron for her but it hadn't arrived yet. They had asked her if she wanted to wait until it came in to begin working, or if she would be okay without it. And she had said she’d be fine.
The customer takes initiative and steps behind the counter like the ‘Staff Only’ sign means nothing. “Are you okay?”
Her manager steps out of the storage room at the commotion, eyes wide. “What's going on?”
“I think it's burning,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “It really fucking hurts.”
“You need cold water now,” the customer replies with a sense of urgency.
Misty's manager hesitates, torn between workplace rules and the fact that their newest staff member looks like she's just about to cry, “Oh God. Okay, uh– there's a prep sink in the back, go.” Though they eye off the way the customer's hand finds her waist and warn her to keep the door open regardless. You can never be too safe.
The customer adjusts the sleeves of his yellow tee and pulls the sprayer hose. Misty leans over the sink and braces herself against the wall, not wanting to drench the floor. She deliberates for a moment but ultimately chooses to not lift up her shirt. The customer adjusts it to the lowest pressure, and she is met with cool water, fabric drenched and clinging.
“Twenty minutes, okay?” Their eyes are the same colour as the chocolate sprinkles she put on their drink.
“I'm sorry?”
“We need to run water over the affected area for twenty minutes. Basic first aid procedure. You didn't know that? And here I thought you were the one working in a cafe.” She rolls her eyes– it's immediate, defensive– while letting their words settle in. Twenty minutes of observing each mole on this person's face. Misty did not enjoy the thought. It would be worse to stand here in silence though.
“What makes you so qualified? And anyway, I never caught your name.”
“I never threw it.” They laugh, but she doesn't get the reference. “Percy Tozaki, my pronouns are he/him, and I’m qualified because I’m applying for pre-med next year. Do you have a name, or can I call you mine?” The fucking nerve of this guy. She pointedly chooses to ignore the comment.
“I would say it's a pleasure to meet you, but,” she gestures at their circumstance, “Perhaps in another timeline it would've been. Regardless, I'm Misty Xi, and you can use she/her pronouns for me.”
“So… Do you come here often?”
“Shut up!” Her cheeks form a smile, “Does everything you say have to be out of a romance novel?”
“It's a serious question!”
She rubs the back of her neck with her right hand and looks away. “Well, actually, it's my second shift here.”
“Woah, really? Congratulations on the new job!”
She tries unsuccessfully to focus on the constant pressure hitting her stomach instead of the refreshing scent of what must be his cologne. Not even the odd metallic smell of the sink can take her away from this moment.
“So, what kind of music do you listen to?” Percy begins, trying to restart conversation.
“K-pop, mainly,” she says, staccato.
“What’s your favourite, uh, band?” Clearly he’s not familiar with the genre, but it seems as though avoiding his question will only let him press further.
“Seventeen.” Her heart is beating louder than the stream of running water, and she swears she can feel it pulse in her ears. He is practically contiguous and this is taking an agonizing amount of time. “You’re too close, Tozaki.”
He raises his free hand in surrender and backs off as much as he can whilst holding the hose. “Okay, okay.”
Misty stares at the cobweb in the corner, and the spot of rust on the corner of the sink, and how one of Percy’s shoelaces appears to be newer, or at least cleaner, than the other. All the same, the silence is deafening. Even a stranger flirting with her would be more comfortable than this, and this stranger happened to be fairly attractive. She decides to relent.
“Fine, try out your best lines or whatever.” Percy perks up notably at this.
“My, oh my, how she's changed! No pen, no paper, but still you draw my attention.”
“Come on, you can do that better than that.”
He leans forward, meeting her eyes. “Is that a challenge?” She could practically kiss him.
“Do you want it to be?”
“You're on, sweetheart. Do you like water? If so, you'll like at least 70% of me.”
“It’s hard to like it when my favourite top is soaked.” Her shirt is notably two things: white, which would typically not concern her in the slightest, except for the situation of it being saturated, which it also is. She can't do much to cover the result while he's treating her burn, and she’s thankful that Percy does not mention that the edges of her bra are visible.
Her body begins to shake. While this water is a welcome relief from the outside temperature, it is air-conditioned inside the cafe, so the combination is a tad chilling. Especially for someone like Misty, who could get hyperthermia in winter with the amount of layers she wears to keep warm. Though perhaps she is a little embarrassed.
“Woah there! Am I really that charming, or have you conceded already?” Percy cups her elbow to ground her and she flinches, taking note of his smooth, soft hands. He definitely isn’t a tradie due to the lack of calluses. She could imagine something like an office worker, but a car salesman seems more likely taking his personality into account.
Noticing that he doesn't have a watch, she says, “I think it's been twenty minutes.” God knows whether it had or not, it was probably something more like ten, but she just had to get out of there.
Finally, he switches off the hose and examines the area with careful eyes. “First degree. Painful but lucky. You'll be okay. Apply a cold compress, some aloe vera gel later, and avoid heat for a bit.” He stretches and massages the arm he used to hold the hose, and Misty catches herself wondering how much muscle he has under the oversized shirt. Maybe in another lifetime there would have been a parable that could teach her how to respond to Percy with the same charm he had shown her. She yearns to have allure the way he does– an all-entrancing magnetism. However, this is not that world, so she decides to end the moment abruptly, before things can get worse.
“You should go. Try not to spill drinks on anyone else.”
“Am I allowed to take that as you wanting me for yourself?” They lock eyes, and he throws a two-finger salute and exits.