love you so matcha
[adam glenn x reader]
author's note: adam is so babygirl
word count: 4,740
Upon further thought, leaving an entire hour before you’re due to clock in might’ve been a tad unnecessary. The GPS app showed that even with the morning rush hour traffic, it’d only take thirty minutes, but you didn’t want to cut it that close. What if there was an accident? What if you had somehow forgotten you had no gas and had to fill up, despite the fact you checked the gauge yesterday? With all the what-if’s piling up in your already antsy mind, you simply couldn’t run the risk. Not when today is your first day.
You’ve backed into a spot towards the middle of the parking lot and shut the car off, only one of a few already here. The office doesn’t open until 8:30. You sigh and contemplate whether you should sit here or go for a walk to calm down. There’s a cafe you’d driven past that you could go to, just around the corner.
Admittedly, you don’t have much of an appetite, barely able to get down a slice of buttered toast and a couple apple slices before you were out the door. But the thought of a drink to quell the nerves is nice, a little anchor to help keep you grounded. With a resolute nod, you grab your tote bag and step out of the car before you have the chance to take back your decision.
There are only a couple people ahead of you in line, and it’s lucky you arrived when you did, since more pour in behind you until the line almost reaches the door. While waiting for your drink, you glance at your watch: twenty minutes until 8:30. You’re making good time. By the time the barista calls your name and you pick up your matcha latte, you feel more relaxed. I can do this!
As you exit, pushing the door back with your shoulder, you catch sight of a little note written on the cup. It's a kind word of encouragement: Have a brew-tiful day!
A quick five minute walk and the office entrance is in sight, so you stand straighter, prepared to switch into work mode. Your phone vibrates then as you receive a text from your good friend and previous coworker.
From: Madison
Still a little upset you’ve left me all alone here :( But I hope you have a good first day! Good luck!
You smile widely, finding it sweet that she thought to send you a message. Practically right on the dot too–the top of the screen says 8:25. You start typing in Thank you! but only with one hand since your other is occupied.
Given that your eyes are downcast, you don’t notice someone crossing into your path. In fact, you don’t notice until you’ve already run into him and your matcha latte, barely three sips in, has splashed onto the concrete.
You gasp in shock. “I am so sorry!” you exclaim, heart pounding. “I didn’t look where I was going.” Of all the hypothetical situations you’d run through of how the day could go wrong, colliding with someone and spilling your drink was definitely not one of them. Your face is burning in embarrassment and you want to hide.
“Don’t worry, I wasn’t looking where I was going either.” The man chuckles nervously, and you muster the courage to lift your eyes to meet his own. Wow, you think. He’s tall.
His blonde hair is tucked behind his ears but not perfectly. Some strands fall forward as he looks down at you. The button-up he wears has some wrinkles near the collar, and his broad shoulders are hunched slightly like he’s trying to make himself look smaller, though it isn’t very successful. Wow, you think again. He’s kind of cute.
“I didn’t get any of it on you, did I?” You force yourself to focus on the matter at hand.
“Ah–no, I am unscathed.” He glances at his sleeves, peeks down at his slacks, then smiles at you. It drops a bit as he points to your blazer. “Looks like you got some though.”
Indeed, the cuff of your blazer is soaked, sticking uncomfortably to your wrist. But at least a little luck is still on your side; the rest of your outfit has been spared. A good thing too, since you hadn’t packed extra clothes.
“Oh…” you trail off, then look out at the parking lot. You can see your car. “I’m going to put my blazer away. Sorry about that. Again.”
You turn back to the man with an apologetic grin and he mirrors it. “Sorry about your matcha.”
Grin still on your face, you shake your head, finally assessing the scene on the ground: lid and cup separated, ice scattered but quick to melt as the sun fully rises. Two pairs of–thankfully–clean shoes, brown loafers and black pumps. Neither of which has started to move, seemingly unprepared to part, but for what purpose, you can’t say. You look back up at him and he’s already looking at you, and momentarily the words die in your throat. But the thought that you only have a few minutes to toss your blazer in the car and speed walk into the office kicks you into gear.
“Not meant to be today, I guess,” you joke.
Then with a good-natured smile and an awkward wave, he bids you goodbye. As you bend down to pick up the cup and lid to throw away in the nearby trash can, you exhale, not entirely aware until just now how tense you’d been. By the end of the short conversation, it wasn’t even from the fact you’d nearly spilled a drink on someone! No, it was from something else, and you think you almost could’ve found it in those pretty hazel eyes if time had allowed.
With a sense of urgency, you walk to your car and set your blazer in the back seat. You’ll have to drop it off at the dry cleaner’s on the way home. Smoothing down your blouse and readjusting your tote on your shoulder, you consider with faint amusement that the positive energy Madison had sent you and the negative energy from spilling your drink seem to have cancelled each other out. Today could still be a good day! And it’d be better if you saw him again.
You huff and shake your head, trying to clear your mind. This is not the time to be distracted! Get it together!
Once inside, you greet the receptionist whose name unfortunately escapes you. Your boss, who hadn’t been your boss at the time, had told you her name when she directed you to her to schedule your second interview. That feels hundreds of years ago now, though it’s only been a few weeks. But you suppose you can’t be faulted for forgetting, considering how much has happened between then and now.
Winding down the work in your previous position had been a whirlwind, especially when upper management had thrown a replacement at you in the last week for you to train as best you could. You were pissed, but it wasn’t the kid’s fault, so you’d exercised as much patience and grace as you could. The company had always given you way more than you could chew with the expectation you’d maintain results, and the burnout was bad. Walking out on the last day truly felt like pulling out an aching tooth with the relief you felt.
Miss Receptionist asks if you remember where to go and you nod. “I think so.”
Her smile widens. “Great! Well, welcome aboard!”
You smile back and give a quiet thanks, then you skirt around the front desk to head towards the main section of the office. It’s a sea of cubicles and your steps are a little unsure as you try to recall the route to Dalia’s office. There’s the sound of quiet conversation and the clacking of keyboards as people begin the day, and you can see a couple glance your way. You wonder if you appear lost, and consider just asking for directions. But you’re currently approaching the conference room, where you’d had your first interview, and you remember taking a left up here…
Aha! This hallway looks more familiar. More confidently now, you approach an open doorway halfway down. The nameplate on the wall confirms you’ve arrived at your destination, so you announce yourself with a couple gentle raps on the door.
Dalia looks up from her computer and stands to greet you with a smile. “[Name]! Good morning! I hope traffic wasn’t too bad.”
Leaving an entire hour early meant there had barely been anyone on the roads. “Not at all,” you assure.
Dalia motions you to sit down in one of the seats across from her and you do so with crossed legs and clasped hands resting on your lap. She reviews the itinerary for the day: you’d be spending most of it, as well as most of the week, training with the other senior, and if the controller had time in his busy schedule, he would like you to drop by his office to meet. But the bulk of this morning would be spent completing your onboarding with HR.
She seems to be reading off an email as she says “It looks like Adam will be helping you with that.” Then she looks back at you. “Let me show you to your desk so you can set your stuff down and then I’ll walk you over to HR, okay?”
You smile and nod. “Okay.”
You have a cubicle against the back wall which means passing traffic would be minimal, and you’re right across from Charlie, the other senior accountant. He peeks out to shake your hand but is quick to excuse himself. “Got a 9AM meeting with sales that I have to prep for,” he explains, and there’s slight exasperation in his tone, as if to say Can you believe they scheduled it that early? and you pick up on it easily as you chuckle. “But it’s good to meet you!”
After you drop off your tote, Dalia leads you to what feels like the complete opposite end of the building. You pass the corridor that you know leads to the front and there still seems to be a large stretch before you. You know familiarity will come with time, but every twist and turn looks the exact same.
“Accounting is far away because HR knows they don’t need to worry about us,” Dalia jokes. It’s like she read your mind. “Almost there now.”
And then you finally reach there. A set of cubicles that look like accounting’s, with an identical conference room just on the left. Through the windows you can see some writing on the whiteboard, talking points regarding clarity and active listening, and so on and so forth. You return your attention back in front of you when Dalia comes to a stop at Adam’s desk. A smile finds its way to your face automatically as she greets him, but it nearly drops when you see him.
It’s him. The one from outside. As Dalia introduces you and Adam’s gaze slides over her shoulder to you, you see the recognition flash across his face, so quick that you know Dalia doesn’t detect it. He nods as she mentions your onboarding, and when he looks back at her again, you can tell he’s more distracted.
“Yeah, Suzie already let me know,” he confirms.
“Fantastic.” Dalia turns to you. “Well, I’ll let you get to it. Just come back to my office when you’re all done.”
“Sounds good, thank you,” you respond, and with one last grin, she starts the (long) trek back to accounting.
And then it’s just you. Alone. With him. With Adam.
Well, not technically alone. There are sounds from the surrounding cubicles, others in HR already well into their work. But when you take a seat across from him, the noise is dampened by the polyester-covered partitions, so it really does feel like it’s just the two of you. You’d been relaxed in Dalia’s office, but here, you hardly know the meaning of the word. You’re in much closer proximity than you had been earlier, the collision itself aside, and all your attempts to focus and not think about the handsome man are promptly thrown out the window. All you can see now is him.
Adam is quiet for a beat as well, and you sit with the silly bit of happenstance that you should meet again this way.
“Hi again,” you start shyly.
Adam’s smile widens, the ice broken, and you think you’re a goner. “Hi.”
The tension is nearly unbearable, and you find it difficult to breathe when he looks at you. Does he know he’s doing that? Before you can drown in your anxiety, you continue: “Um… Is there a lot of paperwork?”
Adam follows your lead, getting straight to business, and he shakes his head as he turns to his computer. “Not too much. Some tax documents, a direct deposit form... things like that.”
You nod and fidget with the rings on your fingers as he pulls up everything he needs. You take this time to glance around his space, various papers and miscellaneous notes tacked to the walls. There’s a stack of paperwork behind him which you know is bound to grow before he can go through it all. Madison always complained about that (I get so close to having everything done and filed away when they drop more on me!). The HR worker’s plight, you muse. But really, it isn’t much different in your department. Maybe that’s why you and Madison got along so well. Maybe you and Adam would too.
He’s typing, and the clacking is almost therapeutic in the silence still thick enough to slice through. Your gaze slides to him again, and you try to be subtle about it. If it were even possible, he looks even bigger now, sitting behind a desk. He seems to dwarf everything around him. His hand almost engulfs the mouse as he navigates to where he needs to go. He’s slouching, but it’s clear he could easily fill the space if he sat up. Thick fingers grasp a pen as he writes a couple of notes on a memo pad, and higher still, his sleeves folded to the elbow reveal sturdy forearms. His brows furrow in concentration, the light of the computer screen reflects off his eyes framed by long lashes, and Geez, how could a man be so good-looking?
“I printed everything you need,” he states, snapping you out of your thoughts. “I’ll just go over to grab them.”
He seems to be aware that you were watching him so closely, and his cheeks redden slightly. You swallow nervously. Maybe you weren’t as subtle as you thought, and you’d like to hide away somewhere.
“O-Okay,” you force out.
In the several seconds it takes for Adam to walk to the printer and back, you sigh heavily, trying to calm down. What notions you had of maintaining professionalism for your first day are circling the drain. You barely contain a groan and have to resist rubbing a hand over your face lest you ruin your makeup. You could tell yourself, once again, to get it together, but would it matter? Would it even work the second time?
You look up as Adam returns and scoots behind his desk, so broad he fills your vision. The fabric of his shirt strains slightly around his biceps, and his hair falls forward so he quickly moves to push it back behind his ear. It’s a firm No to both those questions.
Once situated back in his seat, he hands the papers to you. “You can fill these out at your desk. I just need them back by the end of today.”
You grab the documents and briefly scan the one on top. This is when you would say Okay, thank you and stand up to go back to your side of the office, but in these few seconds spent skimming the W-4 that definitely doesn’t need skimming because you’ve filled it out more than once, you contemplate whether to say something to prolong your time here. Or, well, try to prolong. You don’t know if it will work, and you don’t have long to decide if it’s worth the embarrassment you’ll endure if it doesn’t, walking back to accounting with your tail tucked between your legs.
Face burning, you speak before you can second guess yourself.
“Don’t want me around huh?” you tease with a lopsided smile. “I see how it is.”
Adam blinks, thoroughly caught off guard at the remark, and you start to regret saying anything. Of course he isn’t going to respond positively; he’s HR! That has to be a violation, and you let your attraction cloud your better judgment.The more thoughts that race through your brain about how bad an idea this was and maybe he’ll be nice about it because you’ve only been here a grand total of one hour, the more flustered you become, and he must notice. Heat creeps up your neck and you break his gaze, looking over his shoulder instead. That desk lamp hooked onto the cubicle wall is pretty interesting…
He picks up the pen he’d been writing with and holds it out. Now he’s the one unable to look you in the eye as he focuses on the pen, but then he lifts his gaze to you, and he’s smiling a little. And he looks so good when he does.
“I won’t say no to some company.”
You swallow, cheeks warm but for another reason, and take the pen.
He continues working while you fill out the paperwork. There’s the distant sounds of phones ringing and coworkers chatting, but in your little bubble there’s typing, interrupted occasionally by a few clicks of the mouse; the scratch of pen on paper; the sifting of documents as you double check what you have left to complete. The air starts to feel more comfortable as the initial awkwardness melts away, owed to the acknowledgement the two of you are exactly where you want to be.
But there’s a lingering tension, narrowly missed gazes as you sneak glances at him, and he you. Absorbing a little more each time, observations culminating into a better picture of the other, one to be charmed by, smitten; or maybe something deeper. You try not to think about that last point too hard. It feels like jumping the gun, in a way, and you can’t take your quickly growing crush and just run away with it. Well, you could, but it’s more a matter of whether or not you should.
You try to look at each other at the same time, resulting in your eyes meeting, and it’s awkward for a second, abashed as you are to have been noticed. But then Adam cracks a tiny smile, complemented by a soft laugh at this playful game between the both of you, and you can’t help but follow. And you wonder if he’s thinking all the same things you are in this moment and maybe you can run away with this crush and maybe you will.
“All right, these are good to go.” You click the pen to retract the nib and hold the papers out for Adam to take.
He nods and flips through them quickly to make sure you filled out everything you needed to. “Great, thank you.”
You set the pen down and it’s quiet again, but the air is no longer too thick to slice through. No, now there’s a sense of ease, the ball having started into a roll, down the hill but where it stops, you can’t put into words quite yet. Neither of you is in a rush to cut your time together short; you know you need to get going but can’t find it within you to stand up. It’s only the ringing of the telephone in the cubicle next to Adam that gets things moving as it startles you both.
Adam opens his mouth, about to say something, but then closes it again. He sets the papers on the keyboard and looks back at you, a little more timid now.
“I can walk you back to accounting,” he offers. “It’s a bit of a journey.”
You smile and feel warm all over as you say okay.
The two of you walk side-by-side, shoulders almost touching. When you need to duck behind him slightly to allow for someone to pass going the opposite way, you can’t help looking up at him. Maybe he’s just walking you back as a courtesy, but maybe he’s doing it to prolong your time together too, craving connection just as much as you are.
He drops you off at Dalia’s office and makes his leave after saying a quick hello to Charlie, who was just emerging from his cubicle now that the meeting is over. Dalia regroups with you, reviewing the duties she expects you to train on and take over, and later, when you’re at your desk familiarizing yourself with the work, you find it difficult to focus. The tasks at hand compete with thoughts of Adam, flashes of his grin and his eyes and his everything and you wonder if it’s the same for him on the other side of this building which feels almost comically large.
You set your head on your propped up hand and a smile rests on your lips, right at home. You suppose it’s shaping up to be a brew-tiful day after all.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
The next morning, after a brief conversation with Dalia about the goals for the day, you settle down at your desk. You’re wearing a different blazer, the one from yesterday currently at the dry cleaners. You arrived at work early enough to buy another matcha latte, compelled to make up for yesterday’s. Really, it had been a sad sight, that which you’re not fully over, your basically full matcha splattered all over the concrete like the traces left at a crime scene.
You need to ask Charlie about the worksheet you’re reviewing so you stand up, prepared to go to his desk, but the ping of a message sent by Dalia distracts you and you linger to read it. You’re so focused that you jump slightly in surprise when there’s a knock on the cubicle wall. Most of your department doesn’t arrive for another half hour or so. Whoever is here moves quietly, and you turn to see who it could be.
Adam smiles apologetically. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He holds up a matcha latte. “I got you another one.”
You blink in surprise. “Oh…”
He continues before you can say anything more. “Now I know you said it wasn’t my fault, but I wanted to get it for you anyway because I felt bad. That wasn’t an ideal way to start the morning, much less your first day, so please accept this not apology.” The end of his spiel is punctuated with the clearing of his throat, and he holds out the drink for you to take, the ice clacking against the sides of the plastic cup as he does.
Butterflies erupt in the pit of your stomach because he’s so sweet, even for all the nervous energy you can sense coming from him, or perhaps it’s more accurate to say because of it. You’re dancing around each other like you’ve both got two left feet, and it’s clumsy, but there’s also a certain charm to it as you slowly figure things out together.
“I actually got one too.” Your drink is hidden behind you so you turn around to grab it and show him with a chuckle.
“Oh.” Adam retracts his hand and rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, then clears his throat again. “I, uh… kind of had this picture in my mind, that I’d get you a replacement, and it’d be this whole cute thing, but I guess it didn’t really go as planned…”
Be that as it may, you think it’s cute all the same. He’s cute.
The smile that’s found its way onto your face as you think this seems to offer him some comfort, for he continues on. “Well, here, take it anyway. Maybe you can save it for tomorrow.” He holds out the matcha once more.
Your smile grows and you shake your head. “No, you should have it. Then we’ll both have a treat today.” Though to be honest, Adam stopping by your desk is a treat in and of itself.
Adam smiles too and lifts the cup slightly, as if to say cheers. “All right, I’ll keep it.”
You lift your drink slightly and nod, about to take a sip, but then you catch sight of the note the barista wrote, which stops you in your tracks. You look back up at him, eyes glittering eagerly. “What does yours say? Mine says ‘thanks a latte’!” You turn the cup around so he can see the note.
He looks down at his own and if you aren’t imagining anything, his smile seems to shift to something softer. He also turns his drink to show you the words. “‘Love you so matcha’.”
You giggle because the pun is cute, but your cheeks feel warm. All you can think about is the possibility of him saying I love you in earnest, and not just because he’s reading it off a cup. You imagine a timeline where he’s bringing you a surprise matcha on a Saturday morning and telling you that because it makes you laugh and because he really means it. You wonder if you’d be fortunate enough to feel a warmth like that in this lifetime, and maybe you could, with the way he watches you now.
He’s gone from standing at the entrance of your cubicle to standing fully within it, and he’s so close. The space is already small and he seems to fill most of it, and your breath catches in your throat. His hazel eyes are beautiful and you’re searching the depths of them again but with more time than the last, and you think you find what you’d been looking for–fondness not yet acted upon, yearning for somewhere to lay its head to rest, and perhaps he’s thinking that place is you. The shy grin he graces you with disarms you entirely, and God, you desperately hope it is.
The silence is suddenly broken by Charlie complaining. He’s at the entrance to Dalia’s office. I’m telling you, Sales is scheduling these meetings just to mess with me. Yesterday’s was pointless!
You can’t help laughing and Adam does too. The moment has passed but isn’t easily forgotten. A satisfying warmth settles in your chest as you look at him.
“I should get back to work,” he says. “But I’ll see you around?”
You nod and it’s enthusiastic but you don’t care that you perhaps answered too fast. “You will.”
He smiles widely. “Great.”
You watch as he walks back down the hallway, taking a quick sip of his drink, and it’s only when he disappears around the corner do you turn to set your own back down on the desk.
The cubicle feels a lot bigger, a lot emptier, without him here, and you find you don’t like that. The warmth seems to have left with him too. But as you think of him again and the softness etched in the lines of his face, you are overwhelmed with the sense that you’d never have to go without it if you just said the word. You’re God reaching towards Adam, finger outstretched and the divine spark passing between you as form is given breath, and has there ever been a sight so dazzling?
Charlie is back at his desk and you go over to see if it’s a good time to talk. It is, so you bring your chair over to sit next to him as he walks you through the worksheet you were looking at earlier. You sip at your drink while taking notes and think contentedly to yourself, during a brief pause as he pulls up another document, that the spilled matcha from yesterday morning was more than worth the six dollars it had cost.