Just for @reggiesfilthylittlesecret who asked about Three Floors Up:
But, the retort he was formulating in his mind immediately vanishes as he sees a pair of wide caramel eyes, a wonderful mustache and a perfect set of curls staring back at him from behind the bar. His heart leaps into his chest. All at once he feels flustered and confused by the emotion, trying not to let any of that show as the man walks closer to the bar to frown up at the at the chalkboard menu. Truly, Oscar is perplexed; he’s never felt this dizzying beating in his chest because of a customer.
“Do you…” the gentleman is finally saying, peering at Oscar with a look that is making his heart go crazy. Oscar tries to listen intently. “Do you know how to make a Cuban coffee?”
Immediately, the butterflies start dancing faster and Oscar’s ears perk up at the words he just heard. “Cuban —coffee? You want that?”
The man suddenly looks like he feels bad. “Sorry —it’s just, I don’t really drink lattes, if it’s too much trouble or if you don’t know how—”
“Oh, no, no, no,” Oscar cuts him off, the biggest smile creeping up onto his face. “I definitely know how. I’m half Cuban,” he finishes proudly, digging his finger into his chest, even if a bit clumsily. His legs are shaking from the jolts of electricity still coursing through him. “I can make you the best cafecito in this city.”
“No way,” the man’s face breaks into a smile as Oscar gets to work, crouching down behind the bar to retrieve a few things. He reappears with a cafetera, a quaint metal stovetop espresso-maker. He starts to pull it apart to reveal the tin where the espresso will go, setting these pieces down near where the man’s papers are laid out.
The man is watching Oscar with delight. “Damn, you really know your stuff,” he says, as Oscar reaches up to grab a green bag of Café La Llave from a shelf back behind near the larger machines.
He pauses his musing to really study how Oscar is preparing the drink with deep care. Oscar, too focused to notice the stare being cast upon him, replies with a soft little “mhmm” as he measures a few spoonfuls of espresso into the tin filter. One, two, three, his counts under his breath.
this is a longer one that I need to get back to writing and I'm still undecided if I want to keep it RPF or make it SantixFrankie au...gotta pick it back up and see what the muse tells me <3
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