Chapter Text
Gyro Zeppeli has to use all of his willpower just to stand up straight and not slump over unconscious onto the countertop of the Valkyrie Cafe. He’s still got two hours until he has to close up shop, and frankly, he’s exhausted. It doesn’t help that it’s already dark outside meaning he doesn’t even have sunlight to keep his eyes open. Then again, it would be stupid of him to expect the sun to still be up at ten at night.
He glances at the watch on his wrist. Or ten fifteen.
Gyro sighs. Owning a late-night coffee shop is great for business, but terrible for his sleep schedule. At least it is on days like this where he had to get up early rather than his usual eleven am wake-up time.
He curses whoever set off the fire alarm in his building at five in the morning.
Oh well. Two more hours in a cafe peppered with college students preparing for all-nighters. It could be worse. Plus it’s not like he can get too upset about staying up late when it was his idea to open the place. Still, needless to say he’s not exactly in the mood for a marathon, nor in the mood to deal with any bullshit. So it’s only natural that today he’s had to deal with more annoyances than usual. He figures, though, that with only two hours until he closes, the annoyances are sure to have died out so he can be sleep-deprived in peace. Nobody ever comes in this late unless they’re grabbing a cup to go, and his usual stay-in customers often start heading out the door by eleven, so Gyro assumes himself to be safe from any particularly awful interactions for the rest of the night.
Or maybe not.
He hears the bell on the front door chime as it swings open. Gyro calls out his best attempt at an awake-sounding welcome and lifts his head to look at whoever has just come in. There's a few people, though the first two seem to be together while the third is by himself. He quickly takes the orders of the couple and turns his attention to the one who came in alone. His first thought is that this particular customer is easily one of the prettiest people Gyro has ever seen in his whole life. He’d never understood how someone’s breath could get taken away by just looking at someone attractive until this very moment, when a single glance at the man before him makes the air hitch in his throat.
Shoulder-length blond hair that is messily trying to escape the clutches of a pale blue beanie on his head, piercing blue eyes that, combined with his lips that seem fixed in a permanent pout, make his face into a scowl that somehow suits him perfectly. Gyro can’t tell how tall he is since he’s sitting in a wheelchair, but he seems like he’s probably pretty short, though his arms are surprisingly muscular.
As the blond makes his way to the counter, Gyro is distracted not only by his utterly beautiful looks, but also by his star-patterned pants, which Gyro thinks probably tell a lot about said Blondie’s personality.
A thickly-southern-accented voice cuts through his drool-inducing daydreams. “Hey, I said I was gonna order.”
Gyro’s second thought about this guy is that he’s a complete asshole.
Blondie, as Gyro has already taken to calling him in his head, has fixed his gaze into an even more annoyed glare, looking at Gyro like he’s an idiot.
“Oh, mi dispiace.” Gyro apologizes, “What can I get for you? If you’re planning to stay up all night I would recommend the Ball Breaker.”
Despite offering the drink, Gyro can’t imagine that Blondie would be any more pleasant to talk to hopped up on that particular drink’s five shots of espresso.
“No.” Blondie responds, unamused. “Just gimme the Italian coffee.”
Rude, yes, but Gyro admittedly is pleased by the guy’s taste. “I’d be happy to, will that be all?” He asks, forcing himself to remain polite despite Blondie’s attitude.
Instead of a response, the other man just holds out a credit card with disinterest. Gyro resists the urge to frown and takes it. As soon as the card is back in Blondie’s hand, he rolls off toward the single wheelchair-accessible table in the corner and starts digging through his backpack, which is also blue and star-patterned.
Gyro tears his gaze away from the rude but pretty man, rolling his eyes as he thinks about that English phrase he learned not too long ago about beauty only being skin-deep. Instead of letting his annoyance take control he engrosses himself in making the guy’s coffee. He likes to think that his coffee can turn even the most bitter of customers sweet again once they’ve had a sip, and chuckles to himself picturing Blondie as a snippy little caterpillar drinking the coffee and turning into a polite butterfly.
He calls out the name for the drinks ordered before Blondie, and they grab their cups and disappear out the front door with another chime of the bell. It’s only once Blondie’s Italian coffee is complete that Gyro realizes he had been so thrown off by the guy’s attitude- and maybe his looks too- that he had forgotten to ask for a name for the order. He looks over towards where Blondie has taken a seat in the corner. He’s hunched over a book and scribbling something in a notebook with one hand. Well, can’t exactly call out for nobody, so into the dragon’s den he must go.
Gyro takes the cup over to Blondie’s table and sets it down. Blondie looks up at him with a fury in his eyes that Gyro hadn’t been expecting.
“What the fuck’s your problem?” Spits the other man.
Gyro raises his eyebrows. “Chiedo scusa? What did I do wrong? If anything I should be asking you that question.” Gyro frowns, resting a hand on his hip. This guy’s been nothing but an asshole since he arrived, and Gyro is frankly tired of having to remain in his polite customer-service mode.
Blondie narrows his eyes. “I watched you call out those other people’s names for their order so they’d pick ‘em up at the counter. But you brought mine straight to me. What, you think just because I’m stuck in a chair I can’t do somethin’ as basic as gettin’ my own coffee?”
Ah, so he’s just self-conscious . Gyro thinks.
“Of course not!” He explains. “You just seemed like you were busy, I didn’t want to interrupt. Besides, I forgot to ask for your name so I had nobody to call for.”
Blondie relaxes into his seat a little bit and turns back to his book.
“Fine, whatever.” He huffs. “You ain’t done anything to earn my name anyway.”
Gyro can’t help but to chuckle at that, but he supposes Blondie is right. Knowing someone’s name is something special, in its own way, so maybe he really hasn’t earned it. He continues to laugh to himself as he heads back behind the counter, watching the clock hands tick by ever so slowly. Ten thirty, only an hour and a half left to go.
Blondie stays long after everyone else in the shop has left for the evening, going through his book page by page and writing notes every once in a while in the notebook beside him. Gyro watches him work when he has nothing else to do. Maybe it’s a little weird, but he can’t help it.
At around eleven forty-five Gyro makes his rounds cleaning off the tables and the machines behind the counter, closing up the register, and setting up for the next day. Blondie still sits at his table, his coffee long gone. Finally at midnight, Gyro walks back up to the table.
“I’m closing up now, so you’ll have to leave this table behind.” He says, stifling a yawn.
Blondie looks a bit surprised. “Right, sorry. Didn’t even notice it was this late.” His voice is still a little snippy and sarcastic, though his words have no bite. Gyro suspects that he might just sound like that naturally; a voice to match his face- always annoyed but still cute. Blondie shoves his book and notebook back into his star-patterned backpack and zips it up.
“Before you go,” Gyro says, interrupting Blondie’s move away from the table, “How about you tell me your name. For next time, I mean.” He isn’t really sure why he’s asking. Blondie hasn’t exactly been acting like someone Gyro wants as a repeat customer, forget as a friend, and yet he can’t help but to want to know.
Blondie actually cracks a slight smile at the request, which sends Gyro’s heart into cartwheels. Maybe he isn’t all bad…
“I already told you, you didn’t earn it. Besides, I don’t even know yours.”
Gyro grins. “Gyro Zeppeli, at your service.” He adds a short bow for effect, which manages to elicit a quick snort of laughter from Blondie.
“Well, Gyro. I appreciate the effort, but I think I’m gonna need at least one more cup of coffee outta you before I can tell you mine.”
So it’s a game, then. Gyro muses with excitement, his grin spreading even wider. “Alright, then I’ll make sure it’s the best cup I’ve ever made when you come to claim it.”
With that, Blondie disappears from the shop and Gyro finishes his closing duties before heading home. Despite the other man’s rather acerbic personality, Gyro can’t help but be a little taken by him, and hopes he’ll return soon.
—
A few days go by before Gyro gets the chance to see him again. Once more it’s getting close to closing time, around ten at night, when the sound of the bell over the door alerts Gyro to the arrival of a new customer. When he looks up, he’s greeted by the sight of Blondie, and his heart skips a beat.
Today Blondie once again is wearing his starry leggings, with the same patterned backpack on his lap. Gyro can’t help his excitement.
“Blondie! You’ve returned to me.”
At this, the other man falters and pulls a face containing a mixture of disgust and confusion.
“The fuck did you just call me?”
Gyro puts his hands on his hips. “Well you didn’t tell me your name last time, what else am I supposed to call you? Unless you’re willing to tell me today.”
Blondie scoffs. “After the lack of creativity that came with ‘Blondie’ I’ll have to pass. Pick somethin’ better.”
With that, Blondie- or rather, a different name that Gyro will have to come up with- orders his drink and goes towards the same table he was at only a few days prior. Gyro watches him pull out a book and a notebook once more and allows himself to get distracted watching the other man for a moment before turning his focus back to his job. When he finishes the drink, he sets it down on the pick-up counter and shouts out the most fitting name he can imagine.
“Stellina!” He calls, making sure to stare at Blondie/Stellina in an attempt to psychically get his attention. Eventually, Stellina, as he shall now be known in Gyro’s mind, looks up and raises an eyebrow, in response to which Gyro nods enthusiastically. Soon enough, pretty blond hair and star-print leggings are directly in front of Gyro at the counter once more, and he beams.
“Your coffee, Stellina.”
Stellina looks at him skeptically. “And what exactly is a ‘Stellina’?” He asks, horribly butchering the word’s pronunciation with his thick southern accent.
“You wound me!” Gyro gasps, dramatically clutching at his heart and stumbling backwards. “And not just because you failed so spectacularly to pronounce your own name.” He adds teasingly.
When prompted by nothing but silence on the other man’s part, Gyro pouts. “You’re no fun. It’s Italian for ‘little star’. It’s like a… what do you call them in English? A pet name.”
“Little star, huh?”
“Yes!” Gyro grins. “Because of your pants. And your backpack.”
“Ah.” Responds Stellina dryly. “So you’re Italian?”
Gyro laughs. “The accent didn’t tell you?”
“I never claimed to be an expert on accents, alright?” Stellina pouts. He takes a sip of his coffee. “Is all coffee this good in Italy?”
Gyro grins again and starts talking about his homeland in the way that causes most people to tune out after about a minute. Stellina is easy to talk to, despite his terse attitude. He somehow seems to like to listen to Gyro ramble on and on about whatever is in his head, too. He even seems somewhat interested, as he asks questions and nods along when Gyro talks. Their conversation only ends when the sound of the bell over the door alerts Gyro’s attention to a new customer, and Stellina slinks back to his table to continue working on whatever he had been doing before.
Once more, Stellina remains at his table long after everyone else has left and Gyro has begun to clean up, and once more, Gyro has to walk up to the table and tell him it’s time to go.
“You know, Stellina, I may be a master of coming up with adorable nicknames for you, but I can’t call you that forever. Maybe it would be easier if you told me your name.”
Stellina shakes his head. “I already told you, ‘Blondie’ alone set you back a step.”
“So what do I have to do?” Gyro asks, wondering how long this little game will go on.
Stellina smirks in a way that makes Gyro’s stomach do somersaults. “One more cup of coffee oughta do it, I think.”
And with that, he leaves Gyro alone in the shop, heart beating rapidly. He can’t help but to be curious just how many cups of coffee it’ll take, but knowing that he’ll be happy to provide every last one.