☕ ∘ divider by: @cafekitsune
🍂 ∘ rating: general audiences
🥐 ∘ archive warnings: no archive warnings apply
☕ ∘ category: f/m
🍂 ∘ relationships: chell/wheatley (portal), chell & wheatley (portal), glados & wheatley (portal)
🥐 ∘ characters: chell (portal), wheatley (portal), glados (portal), cave johnson (mention)
☕ ∘ add'l tags: alternate universe - coffee shops & cafés, alternate universe - human, fluff, humor, romance, slow burn, idiots in love, short chapters, human wheatley (portal), human glados (portal), wheatley is an incompetent barista, chell just wants her damn coffee, glados is wheatley's overworked boss, pov third person limited, slice of life, cute, mute chell (portal), pining, not beta read, self-indulgent
🍂 ∘ summary:
Chell is a woman with a routine. One she follows every day, without fail.
Wheatley is a man who can't follow a routine if he tries. Which he does try, desperately.
When Chell enters a new coffee shop for the first time, she finds her routine interrupted by a clumsy, yet oddly charming mess of a man.
☕ ∘ divider by: @cafekitsune
🍂 ∘ word count: ~1400 words
🥐 ∘ summary:
Wheatley is actually behind the counter this morning, looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. It's certainly a sight to behold. And a sight for sore eyes, but it's too early in the morning for Chell to admit that to anyone, let alone herself.
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Wheatley is actually behind the counter this morning, looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. It's certainly a sight to behold. And a sight for sore eyes, but it's too early in the morning for Chell to admit that to anyone, let alone herself.
A sudden assignment from her lab kept her up most of the night, leaving her dead on her feet this morning. It's another day where she doesn't have to go into the lab until later, giving her more time to wallow in misery in this coffee shop. She's written down her order on a page in the back of her notebook. "No milk" is written in thick, heavy letters, and underlined three times. She's upgraded herself to a large drink today, since she clearly needs it. Dark circles sit heavily beneath her eyes, making her look far older than she is.
She also included the usual "no additional flavors or syrups" but she finds that at this point she doesn't care if he gives her flavored coffee. As long as there is actually coffee in that cup, she could kiss him.
Why is she just casually thinking about kissing him? That is not a normal thought for her of all people to be having. Even if the barista is… cute enough, with his wide blue eyes and scruffy blond hair. Not to mention the undeniable charm he somehow manages to lay on just thickly enough that it flusters her.
She shakes her head. She's just stupidly tired. These thoughts are getting deeply buried behind her walls of apathy once she's had her drink.
Ideally, she'd order a couple of espresso shots, but… after the fiascos that were her previous orders, anyone can see why she'd be more than a little reluctant.
Even more unusual than actually arriving here after Wheatley is the fact that he calls out to her upon her entrance. Embarrassment lights her face ablaze.
"'Ello, miss! Good to see you this morning! Really, really thankful you're the first face I see, each day, actually," he says with a chuckle.
She flips open her notebook once she approaches the counter, turning to the page with greetings. She points to the phrase "good morning" again, and then decides on a tired whim to indulge him in pleasantries for a little longer. Her finger drops down to where it says "How are you?" and her gaze moves up to look at him expectantly. She refuses to think about how endearing the way he leans in to read her notebook is.
His eyes widen behind the thick glass of his eyewear. "Oh! I, um, wasn't expecting that from you, miss. Usually you skip straight to ordering!" His voice drops. "Just like everyone else. Wasn't prepared to be asked about my wellbeing…" he says, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Well, I'm good for the most part! A little nervous, but nerves have never killed anyone! Er, maybe they have, actually. Someone's probably died from getting too nervous. Ah- Um, Anyway. A little nervous, as I said. But also good, like I said! Today's going to be a good day!"
That was the most redundant way that someone has ever told Chell that they're fine. Chell nods in acknowledgement, not having a premade response in her notebook. She flips to the page her coffee order is on and scrawls out, "I'm glad you're having a good day. (?)"
"Yes, yes, a good day indeed! I called my boss instead of her calling me, and I only got yelled at once during the entire call!"
She nearly grimaces, quickly hiding her facial expression behind her hand with a cough. Too many expressions will lead to questions about her opinions, and she cares far more about hearing Wheatley talk than divulging how she feels regarding the matter.
"Anyway! Enough of my blabbering, you're probably sick of me by now. Your drink order, miss? Sorry I haven't quite memorized it yet, once you leave it tends to get very busy… Did you know I'm the only barista here at the moment? The big boss, like, my boss's boss, says he wants to wait for this dump, er, this establishment to grow before sending more- more employees. He was a bit more crude with his words. Had to paraphrase for you and all that."
She points to her order, making sure to draw special attention to her desire for no milk and the larger size. Wheatley quickly punches in the order into the register.
"Treating yourself to a larger size, splendid idea! That'll be five fifty, love." He smiles at her, holding a hand out expectantly for the money.
He can't keep getting away with calling her "love". Her heart can't take it. Not while she's running on only a couple of hours of sleep. Not while she's vulnerable to her actual feelings.
She swallows the heat threatening to rush to her cheeks, pulling out her wallet. She gives him a five dollar bill plus another one dollar bill, and he deposits the fifty cents back in her hand. Into the tip box her two coins go before she stalks to her booth.
She doesn't even take her phone out once she's seated, instead laying her head on her arms on the table. Her back is already starting to ache from the posture, but she doesn't care. It's not like she'll actually fall asleep here in the coffee shop, with its cheesy jazz playing and warm air pouring from the heaters…
---
"...be sleeping here. The coffee's supposed to wake you up, not put you to sleep! Silly lady," Wheatley's anxious chattering draws her back to consciousness. She blinks blearily up at him, eyes widening at the huge mug he's brought for her.
There's no way she ordered a coffee that big. She's not going to reject the extra coffee, but she does not have the self control right now to not drink it all in one sitting. She pulls herself into a seated position, sleepily signing "thank you" in ASL without realizing she's done it. Wheatley probably thinks she's just gesturing weirdly.
"You're welcome for the coffee, love."
She raises an eyebrow at him. He knows ASL? The more she interacts with him, the more fascinated she becomes with him.
Wheatley laughs at her inquisitive expression. "I can't… speak, er- do…? I- I don't use ASL myself but I learned to recognize it over the years. Have a couple of friends who're mute and would use some signs here and there, so it was somewhat necessary I picked it up if I wanted to keep up with 'em."
She nods, yawning and taking a sip of her obnoxiously large mug of coffee. She didn't know they even made mugs this big. The fact that she only paid five dollars and fifty cents for this should be illegal.
"Um, miss," Wheatley starts, twiddling his thumbs.
Chell looks at him, placing her egregiously large mug on the table. She tilts her head in inquiry.
"I… I, um, I wanted to thank you for asking how I'm doing. I know it's something small and you probably thought nothing of it, but, still. I- I appreciate it. You're the only customer I get who doesn't yell at me and that's already monumental, so having you check in on me is… Well, it's a nice feeling, is all," Wheatley rambles with a smile. "And I- I know you don't yell because you can't, but you don't even scribble angrily at me in your notebook! Or flip the old bird at me! That'd get your message across loud and clear. You genuinely don't get upset with me, and it's really refreshing.
"I meant what I said earlier, I'm glad you're the first face I see every day."
How is Wheatley still entirely unjaded? He's certainly not ignorant of his mistreatment, so he can't be following the "ignorance is bliss" line of thinking. What motivates him? What keeps him coming into work every day despite his cruel boss and even crueler customers?
Regardless of how or why he remains whimsical, Chell can't stop the heat from rushing to her cheeks. She's known him for all of three days and yet her sleep deprived brain is infatuated with him. Avoiding his gaze, she opens up her notebook to scribble out a quick "you're welcome" to him. She takes another sip from her humongous mug, briefly glancing up at him to see his smile widen even more.
☕ ∘ divider by: @cafekitsune
🍂 ∘ word count: ~1300 words
🥐 ∘ summary:
This place opened up about a week ago. Aperture Refreshments, a coffee shop dedicated to 'innovating your beverage experience' or whatever their lame corporate slogan is. It's closer to her workplace than the other coffee shop she'd been going to, which is the only reason she even stopped in. If their coffee is halfway decent, she'll make this place a part of her routine.
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Chell steps into the modern looking building, notepad tucked neatly in her pocket. She hopes that this coffee shop has those touchscreen kiosks found in many fast food establishments, so she won't have to speak to another person to make her coffee order.
This place opened up about a week ago. Aperture Refreshments, a coffee shop dedicated to 'innovating your beverage experience' or whatever their lame corporate slogan is. It's closer to her workplace than the other coffee shop she'd been going to, which is the only reason she even stopped in. If their coffee is halfway decent, she'll make this place a part of her routine.
Casting a glance around the small establishment, she only spots a normal counter for purchases. No fancy touchscreens for her. A shame, not having to speak to someone would certainly 'innovate her beverage experience'. No one is manning the counter, but she can't fault the place for that. It's quite early, just after six in the morning. The place just opened for the day, after all.
The decor is very sleek and white, accents of blue and orange appearing as flower vases and cushions on chairs. Soft elevator music drawls from the speakers, jazzy notes attempting to emulate a comfortable energy. There's a table tucked in a corner next to a window that she decides is hers. After conducting her initial survey, she approaches the counter.
A heavy British accent can be heard in the back, talking hurriedly to someone else. "Yes ma'am, I'm in the back. You don't have to worry about me, ma'am, I've got everything under control! Unless you want to worry about me… In which case I can't really stop you, but— Yes, ma'am. Bye, ma'am."
A door opens somewhere off to Chell's left and a tall, gangly blond saunters behind the counter. He yelps upon seeing Chell, blue eyes wide with shock. The lenses on his glasses are so thick that his eyes appear very large, making the poor man look permanently bug-eyed. He quickly recovers from his shock, beginning to blabber at her.
"'Ello, miss! Surprised to see you here. Not that you can't be here, of course. The doors automatically unlock whenever we're open. Which is… presumably now, considering you're inside." He smiles sheepishly, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Unless you broke in. In which case, I'm supposed to… uh… I seem to have forgotten the specific protocol. Please tell me you didn't break in."
Chell blinks at him. Why on Earth does this man talk so much?
The blond drums his fingers on the counter top anxiously. He can't manage to keep a consistent rhythm, his hands shaking too much. "Er, miss? 'Ello? Earth to the random lady!"
She sighs, shaking her head.
A gasp bursts from the blond. "You could hear me! Glorious, wonderful news. Now, er, I'm going to assume you didn't break in… Since you haven't attacked me or anything. Which you shouldn't, by the way," he states, matter-of-factly, "I may look pathetic and weak, but- but I know karate!"
Chell raises an eyebrow as if to dispute the accuracy of his statement.
"It's true, lady! Anyway, what would you like to order? We have all sorts of coffees… Iced, hot, flavorful, flavorless—" he shuts up at the sound of Chell pulling out her notepad and scrawling something on one of the pages near the end.
"Medium hot coffee. Black." Chell's handwriting is uniform, decades of practice evident in the steady, legible letters. She rips the paper out of the notebook, handing it to the blond.
The man scans the paper, nodding thoughtfully and putting the paper down on the counter to enter the information into the digital register. "What flavor of coffee would you like? We have hazelnut, caramel (a personal favorite of mine), French vanilla, mocha, since it's autumn we also have cinnamon, er, pumpkin spice…" He looks up at her nervously, fingers hovering shakily over the keyboard.
Clicking her pen open, Chell writes on the paper and slides it back to him. "Plain coffee. No flavor."
"Right, right, yes. Got it. Understood. That will be… four fifty."
Chell hands him a crisp five dollar bill, which he places in the till. He retrieves her change, placing two quarters into her waiting palm. She, in turn, places the two coins in the rectangular tip box, a pink heart decorating its front.
He beams at her. "You can go take a seat, make yourself at home. I'll bring your drink out to you in a jiffy!"
She nods, wandering over to her selected table. She's pleasantly surprised to find that there's an outlet right next to the booth, which will be useful for when she needs to bring her laptop. Today, her laptop is at home, she won't need it in the lab today. To occupy herself instead, she busies herself by checking her emails on her phone.
It's a good ten minutes before the blond stumbles over to her seat, large mug of coffee in hand. It's probably a miracle that there isn't a trail of liquid behind him with how he moves.
As soon as the cup is on the table, he bursts into manic apologies and excuses. "Sorry it took so long! The machines in the back chose not to cooperate. Bloody bastards are probably plotting my downfall, trying to embarrass me in front of a pretty lady like yourself." His hands flail as he talks, pausing only once in their erratic movements to shove his glasses back up his nose.
Chell takes the moment to survey him in his entirety. There's only so much she could see from the counter. He's almost freakishly tall, his limbs proportionate in length to his stature. A white apron covers most of his torso, though the garment isn't tied well and there's already a coffee stain on it. The name tag pinned to his chest reads 'Wheatley'. A curious name for an even more curious man.
"Well, go on then! Give it a taste. Just a tiny little sip will do. It's not too hot, don't worry! The, uh, machines took care of that bit. With their lack of cooperation and everything."
Chell is a woman who rarely smiles. Apathy is a curse that weighs heavily on her shoulders, a difficult past forcing a wall of defenses to rise. Yet despite it all, she finds herself cracking the tiniest of smiles at Wheatley's nonsensical rambling. She decides to indulge him, reaching for the cup and pulling it to her lips.
The first thing she tastes isn't the typical bitterness of coffee. Instead, the rich flavor of chocolate washes over her tongue, the bitter taste of coffee following second. Her order was so simple, and yet he'd managed to get it wrong. Instead of being upset, she finds herself amused. She should've known he wouldn't get her order right.
"What do you think?" Wheatley chirps after a moment, clearly curious to an agonizing degree about her opinion of his hard work.
She answers him by taking another sip, the lukewarm drink slowly waking her up. Despite the temperature and the incorrect flavor, Chell can tell the roast is of a good quality. Plus, caffeine is caffeine.
Wheatley beams, clasping his hands together in front of him. "I take it you like it, then?"
She nods, nearly smiling again at the pure, unfiltered joy on Wheatley's face. What has gotten into her today?
"Splendid. Wondrous, even! I'll leave you to your drink, then. Holler if you need me, love. Er, write a note to me, if you need me? Send me a telegram, maybe a carrier pigeon?" he jests. His glasses fall down his nose when he laughs again.
She rolls her eyes good-naturedly, nodding at him. He waddles off to the counter, just in time for a couple other customers to walk in.
Love? He must not have noticed the term of endearment, but Chell sure did.
☕ ∘ divider by: @cafekitsune
🍂 ∘ word count: ~1200 words
🥐 ∘ summary:
Here she is, meandering into the coffee shop a few minutes after six, again.
The peculiar barista doesn't seem to be in yet, which doesn't surprise her. She doesn't need coffee right away, so she doesn't mind too much.
Speaking of the barista, Chell finally hears the slam of a door in the back. She glances at the time on her laptop: six forty-three. A few customers have entered and left within a few minutes upon realizing the barista isn't there. Wheatley's probably getting an earful from his boss over the phone.
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Chell makes her way back to the coffee shop the next day, laptop tucked neatly into her bag. She isn't needed at the lab until later in the day, but she refuses to wake up any later than five in the morning.
So here she is, meandering into the coffee shop a few minutes after six, again.
The peculiar barista doesn't seem to be in yet, which doesn't surprise her. She doesn't need coffee right away, so she doesn't mind too much.
She'd written her coffee order on a page in her notebook preemptively. She'll keep the page in the book this time, since she has a feeling she'll need to remind Wheatley of her order quite often. Most of the other permanent pages in her notebook are filled with phrases she needs to use at the lab, color coded and sorted according to theme. She can just point to something in her notebook and communicate relatively well.
She sits down at her table, pulling out her laptop to work on personal projects while monitoring her email. She'd been BCCed in an email chain with a Mr. C. Johnson, who apparently wanted to borrow researchers from her lab. The way the man speaks over his emails is… eccentric, to say the least. The emails are amusing in the same way the jittery barista is.
Speaking of the barista, Chell finally hears the slam of a door in the back. She glances at the time on her laptop: six forty-three. A few customers have entered and left within a few minutes upon realizing the barista isn't there. Wheatley's probably getting an earful from his boss over the phone.
She slowly makes her way to the counter, maybe planning to eavesdrop. Just a little. What Wheatley doesn't know won't hurt him.
"I told you, ma'am, it was the traffic! Without it, I would've been here ages ago. Hours upon hours ago, even! Bloody accident on the freeway really screwed everyone up. I'm certainly not the only one who's late to work — everyone on that bus is probably also late to work!"
Sounds like Wheatley's boss is getting an earful from him. The poor woman.
"It won't happen again, ma'am." There's a longer pause, presumably his boss lecturing him. "Yes, I know, three more infractions and I'm fired. Heard ya loud and clear, ma'am. Really loud, actually. Hurting my ears a little, that is— Yes, ma'am. Bye, ma'am." He heaves a sigh and mumbles a few things under his breath before the same door opens again. Chell is treated to an even more disheveled looking barista, glasses askew and blond hair sticking out in random directions.
Wheatley yelps, nearly jumping out of his skin at the sight of her, just like yesterday. She doesn't know why he's surprised that someone is here, the coffee shop automatically opens at six and he's late. He's lucky there's not a line waiting for him.
She pulls out her notebook and flips to the greetings section, turning it to face Wheatley and pointing to the words "good morning" written in her neat penmanship.
He seems to snap out of his shock, beaming at her with the brightness of a thousand suns. "'Ello, miss! Yesterday's coffee must have been really good if you're back for seconds today!"
She shrugs, another good natured roll of her eyes following suit.
"Well then, what can I get you? The same as yesterday? You'll have to remind me what you ordered, if that's the case. Lots of customers here, I can't be expected to remember everyone's orders," he prattles on, idly fixing his glasses so he can look at her properly.
She flips a few pages in her notebook, finding the coffee order written in as plain terms as possible. She points to the text as she holds the book out to him. "Medium hot coffee. No additional flavors, milks, or syrups."
"Right, love, got it…" he says idly, punching things into the register, "I'll have it out to you in a jiffy, just like yesterday! I'll, er, try to get it out even quicker, actually. I'm not scared of the machines now! Bloody things can sense fear, I think."
Chell feels a smile threatening to twist her lips. In any other scenario, she'd find this incompetence particularly insufferable. If one of her coworkers acted like this, she'd entirely refuse to work with them. But she doesn't have to work with him, and instead gets to observe the chaos from the sidelines. She hands him a five dollar bill, he gives her two quarters, and she drops them in the tip box.
Wheatley leaves to presumably make a mess of the back room, so Chell saunters over to her seat. Another email from the chain with Mr. Johnson sits at the top of her inbox. He's talking about something called repulsion gel? A dietetic pudding substitute made out of fiberglass insulation? Hopefully her supervisor shuts down this conversation as quickly as possible. Her lab would be sullied forever if they started producing something like that.
She can't stop the grimace that contorts her features, which lingers on her face until Wheatley stumbles over to her table with his attempt at her drink. His nervous laugh draws her out of her stupor, icy blue eyes locking on the man.
"You look just like my boss right now. Specifically how she looks whenever she's talking to little old me… Scrunched up eyebrows, disgusted grimace… Really, not a good look on someone as pretty as you. She can get away with it since she's an old hag," he chatters, nearly flinging her coffee out of the mug when he attempts to gesture with his hands.
Chell raises an eyebrow, a bit of heat coming to her cheeks. This is the second time he's called her pretty. Does he pay any attention to what comes out of his mouth?
"Anyway, I hope today's drink is up to scuff! I've got hefty shoes to fill! Those shoes being… my own, from yesterday. And they're really big, I'm a size thirteen here in the states!"
He places the drink on the table, waiting expectantly by her side as she picks up the mug. It's quite uncommon for the barista to hover while their customer tastes their drink, but everything about this establishment is uncommon, for lack of a nicer term. The mug is hotter than it was last time, it seems Wheatley was able to make it quicker this time.
As for remembering her order… It's as if she'd ordered a cup of milk with a hint of a hint of a coffee bean in it. That is to say, the absolute opposite of what she ordered. How in the world did he manage to get her order so unfathomably incorrect?
She has to tell him that he'd messed up her order. This is bordering on unforgivable. She's pulling out her notebook, turning to one of the last pages, readying her pen…
And then Wheatley's giving her that infuriatingly earnest smile. She lets her pen fall from her hand in defeat, taking another sip of her coffee to mask her frustration.
Wheatley's gaze tracks her movements, his smile steadily growing as he entirely misinterprets everything that just happened. "It must be so good that you're speechless! Well, you're already speechless, I guess. Wordless, maybe?"
She nods tiredly, not bothering to correct him. What he doesn't know won't hurt him.
