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When Nikandros found a new summer job as a barista at Your Uncle’s Griva, Damen declared that he would fulfill his best friend duty by showing up every day and sampling his espresso technique. Nikandros didn’t mind because it meant his friend provided relief from the mundanity of the job--that is, until Laurent began showing up.
Laurent came in everyday like clockwork at 2pm, ordered a caffé latte, and put all the change in the tip jar--something that made Nikandros learn his name and order rather quickly. He would then curl up on the cushions by the window seat alcove at the storefront with his sketchbook and proceed to draw for the next hour and a half.
It wasn’t long before Damen--who worked at the gym next door as a trainer that summer--began to take notice. Nikandros should have known. Laurent had long blonde hair that fell into his bright blue eyes when he lowered his head to sketch. He had the ivory pale skin that he knew made Damen stammer like a freshman girl at her first wet t-shirt party. Objectively speaking, Laurent was beautiful.
Nikandros knew that Damen subjectively thought he was an angel descended from his loins.
Damen usually took his lunch around noon and came over between training sessions but began to take his lunch later and later until--surprise--it coincided with 2 in the afternoon. He switched from his regular spot near the register to a stool at the espresso bar that faced the front entrance. Nikandros prided himself on being a good friend by not commenting on his obvious pining.
It wasn’t long before Damen made his ‘move’. Which was less of a move and more of an embarrassment, when Laurent arrived late one day, not showing up until halfway through Damen’s lunch hour. Damen got up abruptly in excitement as Laurent walked through the door and knocked his head into one of the floating globe light fixtures adorning the ceiling of the coffee shop.
Damen’s obvious wince and embarrassment was only accentuated by Laurent’s snort, Laurent having clearly witnessed Damen’s incompetence. Damen sent him a weak smile, still rubbing his head. Nikandros looked on incredulously as Laurent flushed and looked away bashfully at having been caught laughing. The artist turned away from them and scurried over to his usual spot to put down his messenger bag.
Damen sidled up to him quickly, and Nikandros frowned, “You’re not allowed behind the bar.” Taking a coffee stirrer, he poked Damen’s side, edging him backwards until he was out again.
“Okay, okay! Ow, that actually hurts. Listen, just let me pay for his drink okay? And can you do me a huge favor?”
Nikandros should have known better than to go along with Damen’s schemes. But he knew what he signed up for when they were thirteen years old and Damen suggested they go climb the tree in his backyard so they could say ‘hi’ to the child next door. The boy was blonde; Damen fell and broke his arm.
When Laurent finally reached the cashier after settling in to order his drink, Nikandros had it ready and slid it across the counter and said, “It’s been paid for.”
Laurent furrowed his eyebrows. “Who…” He trailed off when he read the message that was written in black sharpie on the cup. Sorry for being an embarrassment. - Damen. He looked up sharply at Damen, who had ducked his head, but then lifted it again and gave a little wave.
Laurent locked eyes with Damen, and his face stayed impassive. For a moment, Nikandros thought Laurent would reject the drink, but then he just pulled out the money originally for the drink and put it all in the tip jar.
If Damen landed Laurent, Nikandros at least approved--a good tipper was a keeper.
Damen visibly deflated though, when Laurent didn’t do anything else to acknowledge Damen’s drink. He returned to his seat and proceeded with his daily ritual, sketching the view outside.
However, the following day, when still-moping-because-he’s-never-faced-rejection-Damen didn’t show up at the cafe for lunch, he received a text from Nikandros at 2pm. Get over here now!
Damen showed up a few minutes later and Nikandros saw him try and fail to not look over at Laurent, who was already settled in and sketching.
Damen was entirely focused on Nikandros, however, when he reached the front and with earnest concern he asked if everything was alright.
“No, no it isn't,” Nikandros said somberly. He handed Damen a cup. “I’m fucking cupid.”
Damen twisted the cup until he could read the message in Nikandros’ scrawl: Don’t apologize for being a giant animal. I’m just doing this because you paid for my drink.
Nikandros was sure if he turned off the power, Damen’s giant smile would still light up the room. He sighed; he had an inkling his job was only going to get that much more infuriating.
For the next two weeks, the idiots continued buying each other drinks and making Nikandros write out messages instead of speaking to each other like normal human beings.
I’m doing this because I think you should really try this drink. It’s delicious. - Damen
Adequate. - LR
Enjoy this apple tart with your latte! - Damen
The orange chocolate chip muffin is better. - LR
Do you like orange? Try this chai orange latte. - Damen
It’s good. Can I ask you a question? - Laurent
Only if I can ask one in return :) - Damen
Did you ever fall off a tree when you were young? - Laurent
Nikandros had never earned so much in tips though, so he continued despite wanting to either: lock these two in the backroom, or throttle them. Maybe both. From behind the counter, he could see them try to inconspicuously look at the other when they thought the other wasn’t noticing. It was utterly disgusting.
It all came to head when Damen showed up extra early and asked his latest request. Nikandros had to say no. “I can’t, Damen. The laurel leaf design is company policy. You could get me into trouble.”
“Makedon’s not gonna say anything! He loves you. Please?”
Because Nikandros could never truly say ‘no’ to his best friend when he made that face, he ends up handing Laurent his latte, like usual, sans lid. Instead of the customary laurel design, there was an--honestly tacky--latte heart.
It seemed to work though because Laurent blushed. On the side, Damen had written, in his own handwriting: Go on a date with me?
Nikandros handed Laurent an empty cup and a sharpie. Rather than dragging this out for another day, he’d rather they just get their shit together now.
Laurent bit his lip as he considered his reply, but finally jotted down a message and handed the cup to Nikandros before grabbing his latte and walking quickly to his window seat.
Damen sat at the end of the espresso bar with an anxious look on his face. Nikandros read the message: Pick me up here tomorrow at 7.
Nikandros gave Damen a thumbs up and his friend instantly lit up and let out an embarrassing whoop. From the corner of his eye, NIkandros could see Laurent smile and bury his face further into the sketchbook.
Nikandros turned to make Damen his drink. He was going to draw a dick on his latte.
The following night, Laurent and Damen both showed up ten minutes early and overdressed. Nikandros deserved a fucking medal for being the best goddamn wingman. Now he just needed them to stop making eyes at each other so he could close up shop.