Nerd is the Word

"i hate coffee but youre really cute so im willing to like coffee to see u" Coffee shop au! with a twist. Customer Harry! Barista Draco!

I wanna write a whole fic about this!!

~

This was how the routine went. Every second Thursday at 3 pm Harry would come into the coffee shop. He would stop at the counter and pretend to read the menu then the cute barista would hand him a pumpkin spice muffin and a medium skinny latte. He would then proceed to take his food and sit in the tiny table by the window, the one with a potted cactus on the side and in direct view of the station behind the counter, where he could stare at the cute barista whilst simultaneously pretending he was not. Harry always left by 3:45 - the cute barista’s shift was done at 4 and despite Harry wanting to do nothing more then to wait, he didn’t want to seem creepy and stalkerish.

So it was in by 3 and out by 3:45, leaving Harry 45 blissful minutes every 2 weeks to sit in the shop, eat his muffin, watch the barista and try to force down his coffee.

Harry hated coffee.

He couldn’t quite put his finger on it - the bitterness, the distinct coffee taste to it - but all he knew was that he loathed coffee with a burning passion and really it was a testament to how cute the barista was that Harry kept coming in week after week to force it down. There was something sweet though about watching him, the measured way he made Harry’s drink, the way he tapped the ground beans in and poured the water and finished it off with the steamed milk.

Harry had grown up in a house with no food and even less love. He’d never had someone make a drink for him before, not like this.

So Harry kept coming back, kept buying mufffins, kept returning the barista’s beautiful smiles with smiles of his own and kept forcing coffee down his throat. At the beginning he thought he might eventually grow used to the taste but it had been 3 months and he still loathed coffee with every bone in his body.

He could deal with it though. He couldn’t bear the thought of throwing the drink out, not when he saw how much effort the barista out into it. So Harry always drank all of it, no matter how sick it made him feel.

Today was like every other second Thursday. Harry pulls the door open to the shop, the familiar sound of the tinkling bells making him smile. He waits patiently in line - there were never less then half a dozen people standing in line and he idly passes time by scrolling through his phone, flicking around until he found his fanfic folder.

He’s just pulled up a great one (a Tanky one, by @siriusly-over-it) when the person in front of him accepts her coffee and moves off, chattering to her friend. Harry grins and walks up to the counter, accepting his muffin and handing the boy at the front a $5 bill. He heads over to the side, leaning against the wall and watches the barista make his drink.

He’s striking, in that ethereal way only certain people had - all blonde hair and pale skin and eyes so grey it reminded Harry of ice. They didn’t wear name tags at this shop - just black aprons and Harry couldn’t stop himself from staring at him. He watches as the man makes his drink, quick fingers moving with absolute confidence and Harry smirks to himself as the barista pours the drink in the cup.

Harry’s about to accept it, to turn to his little table in the corner when the man speaks. “Nice to see you again.”

Harry freezes. The man’s voice is lilting, tinged with the faintest edge of an accent Harry couldn’t place. He smiles, leaning his forearms on the counter, the light making his blonde hair appear almost white. Harry shrugs, carefully placing his bagged muffin on the counter between them.

“It’s become a habit,” he jokes. “Every other Thursday - “

“3:00 - 3:45 pm.” The man shrugs, wiping his hands on the apron. He winks at Harry’s shocked expression, jerking his chin towards him. “You come in a lot.”

Harry thinks he can hear his heart pounding in his chest. He’s glad he’s set down his muffin - his hands are so sweaty he would have probably bled through the paper. “I’m surprised you noticed. I mean, with all the customers and all.”

“Hard not to. Especially when they look like you.” The man laughs at the expression on Harry’s face, resting his chin against his palm. “So, what’s your story?”

Harry shrugs. “I’m boring. Nothing much.”

“Oh? Then why are you in here so often?”

“The baristas.”

The man raises an eyebrow. “Really.”

“Hard not to,” Harry fires back, “Especially when they look like you.”

The man throws back his head and laughs. He leans forward, eyes sparkling. “How long have you been wanting to do that?”

Harry winks. “A while.”

The man’s smile grows wider. “I don’t believe in love at first sight.”

“I don’t believe in coffee shop fics but look where we are now.”

The man smirks. “Oh, you’re good. I’m better, though.”

“Oh really?”

“Scared?”

“You wish - “

“Draco!” The sounds of someone shouting makes Harry jump. He looks around, confused before he notices that the blond boy had turned around, to face the boy at the cash register.

Draco. So that was his name. It suited him, Harry thinks.

The boy - Draco - rolls his eyes, tapping his nails against the counter. “What, Blaise?”

“Stop flirting with the customer and help me make the drinks! Pansy just took her break!”

Draco sighs, turning back to Harry. “Next time, darling,” he calls and flicks the latte across the counter at Harry. Harry grabs it, smiling as Draco handed him a lid.

“See you around, Harry,” he calls, walking back up to where Blaise was managing the computer.

Harry just laughs to himself and takes his drink and his muffin to the table. He’s about to take a sip of the latte before he sees the lid, the black writing scrawled across the top.

Stay till 4??

Harry just grins.