(no subject)
Proto Prideshipping, 408 words. Coffee shop AU - "All I can see now is one of them spiting the other by always writing their name wrong on the coffee cup" from Usagisquared
Belatedly, Atem realized his order was being made by the tall, skinny barista, the one who he would have had a favorable eye on if he didn’t find a different way to fuck with Atem’s order every single time he came in. Instead, Atem kept a stink eye on him. Cream, whipped cream, the right bottle of topping, double sleeve with his name on it. Unless he’d decided to drop a used paper towel in the bottom of Atem’s cup before Atem had looked up, he’d put it together right. But the look on his face. What did he do this time?
"Large double-shot espresso, whipped, caramel," the barista announced. Atem approached him with barely concealed disgust. What did he do? The barista held on to the coffee a little too long when Atem reached out for it. “I do know how to make coffee, Atem,” he murmured, or whatever passed for a “murmur” at 8:45 am in a college coffee shop constructed entirely of reflective surfaces. Atem could hardly hear himself think in here. “It’s insulting to have you watch me so closely.”
So they were pulling out names? The barista had broken whatever brittle veneer of formality existed in retail - “I don’t know you, you don’t know me, and we won’t ever try to get to know each other.” Both his roommates worked here, or had worked here, in Joey’s case, and Atem had never, ever called them by name while at work, because it was weird. But then this asshole….
"You could have fooled me," - Atem glanced at his name tag - "Seto."
Seto released the cup lightly. “I just make the order I’m given,” he said. “Things don’t come down the line to me perfectly.”
Atem glanced at Yugi, who was frantically but cheerfully trying to get incoming customers’ orders taken. Atem didn’t know much about working in a coffee shop, but he knew enough to know this barista was full of shit, and didn’t deserve anymore wasted breath from him.
But that glint in his eyes when Atem turned on his heel to leave. What did he do?
Atem waved to Yugi on his way out, received a punch on the shoulder from a waiting Joey for “even talking to that asshole Kaiba” for more than two seconds, walked to class with him, and had been listening to Orgo 1 lecture for 15 minutes before noticing the name written on his cup.
Atemu
Belatedly, Atem realized his order was being made by the tall, skinny barista, the one who he would have had a favorable eye on if he didn’t find a different way to fuck with Atem’s order every single time he came in. Instead, Atem kept a stink eye on him. Cream, whipped cream, the right bottle of topping, double sleeve with his name on it. Unless he’d decided to drop a used paper towel in the bottom of Atem’s cup before Atem had looked up, he’d put it together right. But the look on his face. What did he do this time?
"Large double-shot espresso, whipped, caramel," the barista announced. Atem approached him with barely concealed disgust. What did he do? The barista held on to the coffee a little too long when Atem reached out for it. “I do know how to make coffee, Atem,” he murmured, or whatever passed for a “murmur” at 8:45 am in a college coffee shop constructed entirely of reflective surfaces. Atem could hardly hear himself think in here. “It’s insulting to have you watch me so closely.”
So they were pulling out names? The barista had broken whatever brittle veneer of formality existed in retail - “I don’t know you, you don’t know me, and we won’t ever try to get to know each other.” Both his roommates worked here, or had worked here, in Joey’s case, and Atem had never, ever called them by name while at work, because it was weird. But then this asshole….
"You could have fooled me," - Atem glanced at his name tag - "Seto."
Seto released the cup lightly. “I just make the order I’m given,” he said. “Things don’t come down the line to me perfectly.”
Atem glanced at Yugi, who was frantically but cheerfully trying to get incoming customers’ orders taken. Atem didn’t know much about working in a coffee shop, but he knew enough to know this barista was full of shit, and didn’t deserve anymore wasted breath from him.
But that glint in his eyes when Atem turned on his heel to leave. What did he do?
Atem waved to Yugi on his way out, received a punch on the shoulder from a waiting Joey for “even talking to that asshole Kaiba” for more than two seconds, walked to class with him, and had been listening to Orgo 1 lecture for 15 minutes before noticing the name written on his cup.
Atemu