Hi E! gang, my name is Kasper, and I’m trying to get back into writing. I haven't written anything since 2016, so I've pretty much lost all my skill and flow. I love writing odd stuff, sometimes stuff you definitely might not find in canon. E! was a great platform to write stuff for, as it helped me juggle six characters as once. Let’s give this a go. Do you guys like Coffee Shop AUs?
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John nervously fingered his new badge which rested on his dark green work shirt as he leaned against the brick wall of the coffee shop. After what seemed like an eternity of studying and work, he had nailed a job with the California Department of Fish and Wildlife as a forest ranger, and he couldn’t be more happy with it.
What did this have to do with a coffee shop, of all things? This is where he spent most of his studying time leading up to applying for the job. It was named The Station, and the two owners were masters of their craft. Though, John would argue that the wife, Joanne, was more adept, careful and studied than her husband, Roy. He’d never say that to their faces though; it was an opinion that was best kept to himself.
He smiled softly and sighed quietly to himself as he looked around the small hole-in-the-wall. All the regulars were there oddly enough, despite them never coming at the same time as each other. It was as if they were all gathered together, telepathically congratulating him.
At the farthest table sat Hank and Mike, who both worked as higher-ups for the LA Department of Water and Power. John had no idea how “higher up” they were, but he was certain they made more money than any of the other regulars. They were rather secretive about their work, but John at least knew Mike worked on the water side, and Hank worked on the power side. Also sitting at a lone table, drinking coffee and munching on a pastry was Chester, a lineman for the county.
A door chime sounded, and John looked over to see the last regular enter, a man by the name of Marco. He was the most secretive of his work, as he did for-hire translation services both for county and state work, and...that was all he knew about him. John did know he worked court cases, but that was about it.
John couldn’t help but crack a smile as Marco walked past him, crossing his arms, but not before Marco tapped him on the chest, unable to help making a comment.
“Congrats, mi amigo.”
John furrowed his brow. “Mi amigo?”
Marco couldn’t help but chuckle. “Of course, it means--”
“Ah c’mon, I know what it means.” John copied his chuckle. “It’s just that you’ve never said it until now.”
Marco simply shrugged. “We’ve seen each other so much over the last few years. You’ve earned the nickname.”
John smiled, slightly embarrassed. It had become hard for him to make friends ever since he started focusing intensely on studying in college. He was happy to have earned the respect of someone, even if that someone was a friendly stranger. Well, not exactly a stranger. Something in the middle between stranger and friend? Strange friend?
Marco could see John having a chat with himself, so patting him on the shoulder, he left him to his own devices, walking over to the counter to order some well-deserved liquid caffeine.
John resumed his leaning against the brick wall, keeping his arms crossed. It was short-lived however, as he saw Roy make eye contact with him, sliding his hot beverage across the pickup counter. Pushing off the wall, he walked over to the counter.
John reached over to the cup, the warmth of it seeping into his hands. He met the coffee-maker’s eyes. “I'm gonna miss this place.”
Roy leaned back. “I was going to comment--congratulations. It’s a big achievement. You’ve been excitedly talking about it for months now.”
John feigned being taken aback. “What, you don’t like to hear me talking?” He smiled sheepishly after a few seconds, unable to hold in a laugh. He sighed, looking down at the paper cup in his hands. “Trust me, I think I’d find me annoying and slightly weird.”
Roy crossed his arms. “You’re not annoying, by any stretch.” He raised a finger. “And weirdness is a good thing.” He dropped his hand, staring past John.
John picked up at the change. “What?”
“I always assumed you’d go for firefighting.”
Now it was John’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Firefighting!?” He couldn’t help but exclaim. He held his arms out. “Roy, look at me. You think I have the physique for that?”
Roy scratched a spot above his cheek. “I suppose you’re right, but I’ve seen some skinny firefighters.”
John paused for a few seconds, taking in the light mood of the friendly chat. He finally held up the cup. “This isn’t my order, by the way. It’s got cream in it.”
Roy shook his head. “Nope, it’s your order. Special, from the wife.”
“Aw, c’mon Roy, I always--”
“Order a coffee, black?” Roy finished his sentence. “Every time you come in here, you say ‘let’s go basic this time.’” John didn’t look satisfied by his answer, so he nodded at the cup. “Open the lid, junior.”
John squinted, both at the command and the nickname. Roy had called him that after a few times of John visiting, mistaking him to be younger than he actually was. The nickname just sort of stuck around after that. Reaching over with his left hand, he twisted and pulled the top off, looking inside. On top, the milk foam of the latte had been manipulated and carefully crafted to look like a rose, intricate and frankly gorgeous.
John looked up in surprise, which Roy instantly caught onto. “Jo spent a week mastering that, just for you.” He faked a look that John could only describe as “disappointing father.”
“Now, you wouldn’t want my wife’s coffee art to go to waste, would you?”
John took in a breath. “I feel like I’m being--” He raised the cup to his mouth “--forced into...” He trailed off as he took in the coffee. He blinked twice, realizing that it was a different brew than usual, and the foamed milk just contributed to the full-bodied taste.
Roy watched his reaction with amusement. “That’s about what I expected.” Satisfied, he leaned back as John looked over to him, also satisfied. “I’m gonna miss you too.” He commented.
John raised a hand. “Keep any big speech to yourself, I can’t do sappy stuff very well.”
They both smiled at each other, a silent friendship that spoke all the words that needed to be said. The silence was soon shattered as the sound of a coffee cup falling on the floor echoed throughout the building, and a man got up from his seat, letting out an exasperated noise. John turned around, with both him and Roy focusing on the source. It was Hank, and as Chester was walking by, he bumped into his table, spilling the rest of his coffee onto his finely-pressed work shirt. He held it out, looking at it in disbelief.
In half anger, half amusement, he turned to Chester. “Not my coffee, ‘ya twit!”
