Chapter Text
There’s an alarm to brew the coffee, an alarm that the tea’s done steeping, a flashing alert that the espresso machine won’t run until the grounds drawer’s been emptied (it’s out of beans anyway), the manager’s in the bathroom, and Kylo’s trying to figure out what the fuck this customer is saying.
“I’m sorry,” the barista apologizes— to the customer, his manager, his frickin’ mother, “could you repeat that?”
A little slower, still as unintelligible, “Double ristretto tall soy latte.”
His hand twitches over the spring-loaded cup dispensers. “What size?”
“Tall,” the man repeats, palpably annoyed, but he’s not yelling (yet), “hot.”
Kylo feels a little better with a cup in his hand, Sharpie poised to take an order he will not understand no matter how many times it’s said. “What’s the order?”
“Double ristretto soy latte.”
Are those even words? Kylo turns the phrase over in his mind while he tries to figure out what the hell a ristretto is (furthermore, how to double it) when Poe— blessed, ridiculous Poe— blusters back from his break, apron untied and bill of his hat backwards to let everyone know he means business. He silences the alarm as he fishes out the teabag, scoops coffee beans and sets them to grind.
Kylo’s about to ask for some four-years experience advice on an undoubtedly Italian word this pretentious customer’s throwing around when said customer interrupts him. “Two shots.” That he can write— that he understands— scrawls a two in the Shots box. Progress. “Those are ristretto shots.”
“R after the two!” Poe shouts helpfully, banging the grounds drawer against the side of the trash can.
“Thank you,” Kylo replies reflexively. He’ll supply a proper gratitude in the form of that Instagram concoction Poe’s obsessed with, later.
“Soy milk,” the guy goes on, and Kylo realizes as he scribbles: the customer’s not mumbling. He has a fairly heavy accent— Europe somewhere. It’s nice to hear, now that he knows what to listen for. “Latte.”
Kylo rereads his half-legible handwriting: 2R S L. It looks more like a passcode than a drink. “Name?”
This is his first time looking up during the transaction, and Kylo rues all time he spent not looking at this guy. The overhead lights shine off gelled-perfect ginger hair. He’s in a black three-piece, fitted slim, fair-skinned and well-groomed, and the phone in his hand dips distractedly at the eye contact. He’s the best-dressed person in the store, and there’s something ephemeral about that: unbelievable and out of place, like he’ll disappear the second Kylo blinks.
“Hux,” he says.
Kylo writes in slow, careful strokes, and blinks. He’s still there. “Tall latte, add soy,” he reads as he taps it out on the touchscreen, “three fifty-five.”
He flips his phone around, where the screen displays a gift card barcode. He’s a gold member, Kylo notes as it’s scanned. He doesn’t say anything, but there’s the slightest shift in expression that seems almost like a smile before he leaves the counter. Kylo rejoices that he’s the last in line.
Poe has already (by the will of God and too much caffeine) taken care of four of the empty cups lined up on the counter, filled and sent out three of them, and is pumping syrup into a tea shaker. All that leaves in the cup in Kylo’s hand: 2R soy latte. “Poe, can you show me how to make this?”
“Nah, man, I gotta pull blackberries.” He scoops in ice and rattles the shaker until tea froths. “What is that, a double ristretto latte?”
He frowns at the cup and addends, “Add soy.”
“You can do that. Just press ristretto before you queue the shots.” Poe pops the shaker open, and pours out the contents, which come so close to overflowing the cup.
“Okay, but what’s ristretto?”
“Sangria passion tea for Sarah.” Then, in the same breath, “It’s like a half shot, so you gotta do them in doubles.”
Kylo glances down at the cup in his hand once more, squints, and contends, “What’s the point of half a shot if you have to do two of them!?”
Poe has already kicked open the swinging door to back storage, Sarah takes her tea to-go, and Kylo is alone in a Starbucks lobby with an intimidatingly attractive man who is thankfully busying himself with his phone instead of watching his drink prepared. Kylo has the sinking suspicion he’s going to do it wrong.
He pours milk to an engraved line in the pitcher, plunges in the steaming wand and draws up until it hisses while the air mixes in. He lets it steam on the shelf while he locates the fabled ristretto button— and there it is, right next to rinse and stop, which are the only buttons on this panel he’s used in three months of working here.
Everything is going fine, until he realizes it’s supposed to be soy milk, and he’s steaming two-percent. Wipes the wand, purges, tries again. Shots expire in ten seconds, so he’s gotta do those over— and forgets to make them ristretto, of course.
Kylo crushes the cup in his hand, and the sound startles the customer. Kylo takes a few deep breaths, because he’s being watched, before dunking the mangled cardboard in the trash and snatching another. “… What was your order again?”
“Double ristretto soy latte.” He sounds like he’s trying really hard to enunciate, and it’s kind of cute. Appreciated, certainly.
The barista pours another pitcher of soy milk— steams, shots, shelf. “I swear to God, I’ve got it this time.” It’s mostly self-affirmation.
“At this point, it’s really just amusing,” Hux says, with a twitch at the corner of his mouth— it’s weird how little he emotes. Kylo supposes he’ll have to watch closer.
“Yeah, sure, laugh at my failures.” Just like my parents.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Well, that’s unexpected: these business types are always rushed and rude. Good thing that face isn’t wasted on an asshole. “I know better than to anger the man that provides my caffeine."
Smart, if not observant. Similarly, Kylo is just now recollecting the dip well’s out of order, as he reaches for a spoon and finds them all caked in dried foam. He’s not about to soak his apron scouring some spoons.
There’s one thing he retained from Poe’s attempt at teaching latte art: pour slowly, and from far above as you can without splashing, and you can save most of the foam to the end. Saves him a trip to the sink— and it’s not like Hux is paying attention.
Kylo keeps the stream pencil-thin, like the metaphor Poe had made to drawing or some shit, and when he brings the spout close and tips forward, he doesn’t end up with an aesthetically pleasing layer of foam, but soy milk bulging to spill and a dash of foam on one corner.
Maybe he should have practiced.
Kylo sighs, digging through spoons and trying to decide on the least gross to scoop out some of the milk.
“It’s fine the way it is,” Hux pipes up, pocketing his phone— which feels like an accomplishment.
Kylo suspects he just wants his drink, and Kylo, quite frankly, wants to give it to him. “You’re sure?”
“What’s that old adage about customers, and their infallible logic?”
It takes him a minute to tell if that’s ribbing or genuine displeasure, and he rolls his eyes when he does. “Take your stupid fancy latte.”
The way Hux holds eye contact while he sips— up from under his lashes and freakin’ intense— is totally unfair. Then he blinks, and looks down perplexed at the lid of his latte.
Kylo thinks very hard about anything other than snapping necks. “Is there a problem?”
Too much foam, not hot enough, are you sure this is soy milk, because I’m on a diet, and have no idea about all the additives in Starbucks soy milk… Kylo’s fairly confident assuming Hux is a health nut, with how much pride he obviously takes in his appearance, and a figure like that.
Hux furrows probably-threaded brows as he deliberates over another sip, and admits, “This is somehow the best coffee I’ve ever had.”
“Are you saying that to make me feel better?”
He narrows his eyes, like the suggestion is an offense. “I’ve hardly so benevolent.”
There’s a wind chime on the door, and it rings loud when a college girl steps inside. She pauses upon seeing Kylo and Hux alone in the store in close proximity, fearing she’s interrupted, but when Kylo turns to Hux to excuse himself, he’s already brushing past the girl and out the door.
Of course, Poe announces his presence by ripping open a package of freeze-dried blackberries at that exact moment, and the girl gives him the opportunity to teach Kylo another ungodly modified frappuccino.