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It has been an unbelievably busy day, Harry thinks to himself as he takes a deep breath and foams the milk for what feels like his one thousandth latte of the day.
“Hang in there, Harry. Just half an hour more and we’re off for the day,” Ron says good-naturedly, clapping him on the back as he passes him by, heading towards the register.
“Easy for you to say mate,” Harry responds with a shake of his head. Ron doesn't say anything, just waggles his eyebrows at Harry who sticks his tongue out when no one is looking before going back to making the coffee.
He reaches his right hand out towards the stack of drink cups waiting to be made, picking up the empty paper cup closest to him, ready for his next order. But as he reads the side he can't help but frown a bit at the ridiculously long list of instructions on the side of the cup which read - 4 shots, whole milk only, two shots of hazelnut syrup, one shot of vanilla syrup, half a pump of classic (added before the shots), extra hot, add whipped cream.
As quickly as possible he fills the order, trying not to make much of a face when he yells out “Draco, your order is ready”, as he sets the drink on the small counter. He can't help but wonder what the hell kind of name Draco is anyway.
“Did you follow the instructions specifically?” He hears a voice utter, with a rather posh accent.
“Of course I did. I do know how to read,” he replies automatically, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, and not even bothering to look up until he hears a rather loud tut tut.
“Gracious me, what kind of manners are they teaching their employees to have here? The customer is always right you know.”
Harry finally looks up at that, an annoyed frown marring his features as he takes in the man in front of him. He can’t stop himself from looking him up from head to foot, taking in his perfectly tailored suit and fancy shoes to the way his impossibly blond hair falls softly into his grey eyes, such a strong juxtaposition to his otherwise rigid look. As Harry stares he can’t help but wonder how it’s possible to be so pale, and if hair that blonde is even natural. He’s all sharp angles with his pronounced jawline and sharp eyebrows, and he is so ridiculously handsome and put together all it does it make Harry grumpier.
“See something you like?” The man says with a laugh, raising his eyebrow to smirk at him and Harry has the decency to blush crimson.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Right, course you don’t. See you tomorrow coffee boy,” he says, raising his drink to his mouth and winking at Harry as he takes his first sip.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The following day, right towards the end of Harry’s shift, he gets another cup that makes him frown.
He picks up and reads it twice just to be sure he isn’t hallucinating, but no matter how many times he reads the cup it still says the same thing.
Tip for the barista with black hair - buy a brush!
“Oi - what the hell is this?!” Harry hisses to Ron, who looks especially pleased with himself like he’s trying not to laugh as he rings up the next customer.
“Sorry mate, the customer made me write it. He refused to pay unless I did it.”
“Wanker,” Harry grumbles, turning the cup over again to read the name and he finds that somehow he isn’t at all surprised to find the name Draco is written on the top.
Ignoring his desire to throw the empty cup at Draco he instead makes his drink to perfection, making absolutely sure there won’t be a single bad thing he can say about it.
“Triple espresso macchiato in a venti cup with three pumps of caramel, extra hot for the prat in the blue suit,” Harry says, plastering on his most friendly smile as Draco walks towards him with his own frown.
“Good grief, first you can’t find a brush and now you can’t find your manners. Are you like this with everyone or do I just bring out the best in you?”
“Perhaps your impossibly good looks are irritating,” Harry snaps, before realizing that he’s inadvertently complimented him. His hopes that the other man won’t notice are dashed when Draco smiles, and Harry nearly drops the other cup in his hand, mortified at the effect one smile seems to be having on him. Especially a smile from someone so utterly frustrating.
“Extra hot you said?” Draco asks, and Harry can’t help but watch as his long, pale fingers reach out to wrap around the cup.
“Of course. Just like you specified,” Harry replies, trying to keep his voice even. "The customer is always right."
“Mhmm, indeed. And what about you? Do you like it hot….Harry?” He asks, reading the name off Harry’s name tag. “Or do you like it a bit more sweet and mellow?”
Harry opens his mouth to reply but the tightness in his pants makes him realize quite suddenly that perhaps Draco isn’t talking about coffee.
“I’m not picky,” he answers softly, mentally kicking himself for such a pathetic reply but Draco just smiles at him again, that same almost open smile from yesterday and Harry thinks maybe that was the right answer.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“Harry, what the buggering hell did you do to your hair?” Ron gapes as he ties his apron on, not taking his eyes off of Harry.
“Nothing,” he says defensively but Ron is having none of it.
“Mate you….did you try to tame your hair?!” He shouts making Harry reach up to pat at his hair nervously. He reaches out to try to touch Harry's hair but Harry ducks under his long arm, backing away from him until he's out of Ron's reach.
“S'nothing,” he mumbles, angrily grabbing his apron from under the counter and roughly tugging it over his head not caring in the least that it’s most likely messed up his hair. Not that it was really fixed before, but he’d tried to comb it flat and had failed miserably which had left him with some sort of fluffy looking disaster on the top of his head.
“Oi is this about that blonde haired wanker? That bossy posh one?"
"It’s not about anyone!” Harry all but yells, banging the blenders and cups about as noisily as possible to drown out Ron who has begun to cackle at him.
Harry spends the rest of the day self consciously tugging at his hair so much that by the time Draco does come in for his afternoon caffeine fix Harry feels like he must look like he stuck his finger in a light socket.
When he finally gets Draco’s cup he nearly drops it when he reads the “The just shagged look works for you” written above his strange order for an extra hot chai tea latte with peppermint syrup. Pushing the fluttering feeling out of his stomach, and the hint of embarrassment out of his brain, at least for the time being, he finishes up his other order before moving on to Draco’s.
“Butchered chai tea latte for Draco,” he shouts with a grin, pleased at the look on the other mans face as he reaches for his drink.
“I’ll have you know I have excellent taste,” Draco tells him happily, taking a long drink from his cup and letting out a moan of appreciation that Harry thinks is wholly unnecessarily considering he still has another twenty five minutes of work to get through. He wonders how many drinks he will mess up as he tries to stop replaying that erotic sound in his head.
“Oh yeah, I’m not so sure. Your taste in beverages might suggest otherwise.” He says with an easy laugh.
Draco doesn’t seem the least bit ruffled though as he leans forward, his arm resting on the order counter as he tilts his head towards Harry with what can only be described as a wicked grin. “Mmm, but what about my taste in speccy black haired coffee boys?” He drawls, reaching his hand out to run it through Harry’s hair.
He touches Harry so briefly he could almost think he'd imaged it all, except for the burning sensation where he can still feel the touch of Draco's cool fingers as they skimmed across his forehead before running through him hair..
“I…um…” But Harry can’t seem to find the words and instead just blinks at Draco.
“See you tomorrow, Harry.” Draco says easily, giving him a small wave as he heads out the door and leaves Harry standing there more confused and turned on than he can ever remember.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
After that they develop a bit of routine. Draco orders the most complicated and ridiculously specific drinks imaginable, all while apparently bribing Ron into writing some sort of cross between a compliment and an insult on his cup. Then when it’s ready Harry finds the most insulting way to let Draco know his order is ready followed by so much sexual tension Harry is surprised he hasn’t gotten himself fired.
In fact, Harry finds most of his shifts flying by faster than ever in anticipation of Draco’s now regular afternoon visits. He isn’t sure how but somehow thinking about their encounter keeps him on his toes all day. Not that he would admit that out loud. Although if the teasing from Ron and his other co-workers is anything to go by he thinks their flirting clearly hasn’t gone unnoticed.
“Ready for lover boy?” Ron asks with a wink, right on schedule and Harry groans, throwing an empty cup at him.
“I don’t know what you’re on about,” he lies.
Ron lets out s bark of laughter. “Yesterday he made me write that you had a nice arse on the cup! I should hope you’re not oblivious enough to have not noticed he’s flirting with you.”
“Oh shut it you!” Harry laughs.
“Oh good so you have noticed. So right about now is the time I am obligated as your best mate to tell you that if you don’t make a move soon I’ll have to kill you, because I’m scared what he might make me write next.”
Harry cant help but laugh.
“I’m just saying,” Ron tells him with a shrug, quickly turning back towards the counter when someone walks in. Harry does his best to pretend to be busy but when he realizes that it is Draco his curiosity gets the better of him. When he hears Ron making a choking noise he abandons all pretense of pretending to make another drink, and turns his head to the right watching as Ron picks up his pen to write on the cup and noticing that he looks like he wants to disappear. Harry just catches Ron’s eyes as he glares at him mouthing “I told you so” and Harry feels his own cheeks flush in anticipation.
Reaching out almost nervously Harry snatches the cup up off the counter, ignoring the actual drink order to read the words written messily across the top of the cup that reads “when do I get to take more than coffee home with me?”
Harry feels his stomach drop unexpectedly, as if the wind has been knocked out of him. He looks up immediately but Draco is staring at his hands, looking almost nervous, and Harry wonders if perhaps this is more than just playful flirting. He glances back down at the cup again and thinks back to their previous encounters, to every time that Draco has flirted and made a move first. Harry had worried he was reading too much into it, that perhaps it was just harmless flirting, and yet here in his hands is all the proof he’d barely let himself hope for.
Stealing himself he sets the cup down, ignoring the row of drinks waiting to be made and the questioning look from Ron as he pulls his apron off, walking over and opening the small door separating him from the rest of the cafe. Draco finally looks up, curiosity written plainly across his face as he watches Harry walk towards him purposely.
“See something you want?” Draco asks, leaning back against the wall and letting his arms fall down at his sides, his words teasing and brazen but his body language speaks volumes about his hesitancy, and Harry wonders how he hadn’t seen it before.
“Yeah, yeah I do,” he answers quietly, moving until he is standing between Draco’s legs with his hands splayed on the wall, one hand on either side of Draco’s head. “There’s this guy that’s been coming in, driving me absolutely up the wall because he’s smart and sarcastic and sexy as hell but there’s one problem.”
“Yeah, and what’s that?” Draco asks him, and Harry is pleased at the catch in his voice.
“He keeps leaving without me,” Harry whispers, his mouth just inches from Draco's and he can’t help but stare, mesmerized as Draco licks his lips and opens his mouth, his warm breath ghosting across Harry cheek.
“And what are you going to do about it?” He asks, reaching out to place his hands on Harry’s back; his warm, soft fingers slipping just underneath the hem of of Harry's jumper to just barely stroke at the skin above his waistband and that’s all it takes for every last bit of his self control to snap. With an almost keening noise Harry surges forward, not caring that he’s supposed to be working or that his coworkers and the other customers are watching them, because suddenly the only thing in the world that matters in that moment is Draco.
And then they’re kissing and Harry feels like he’s drowning as their lips crash together, and Draco is such a good kisser Harry only hopes he isn’t whimpering because he sort of feels like he might be. His ears are ringing so loud he can’t really tell. All he can focus on is the slide of Draco’s lips against his, and the gentle press of a warm tongue against his own, and Draco taste like honey and peppermint and Harry can’t say he’s ever been particularly fond of either one before but he finds that on Draco it makes him want to devour him.
Seconds or minutes later, Harry can’t actually be sure, they finally pull apart breathless and flushed and Harry can’t stop the smile that spreads across his face.
“Still wanna take me home?”
Draco opens his mouth to answer then pauses, reaching out his hand to push Harry’s glasses which had begun to slip down his nose, slowly back up his face, running his thumb across Harry’s cheek before offering his own smile in return
“Definitely.”