Lottie couldn’t fathom why the coffee shop she worked at was even open. Snow was pouring down outside, the roads were abysmal, every other barista on the closing shift had called out for the day, and even the owners had taken off early. - marilottie coffee shop AU, holiday exchange fic prompts: chocolate, "I'll do it, but only because you asked."
holiday exchange fic for @aislinnstanaka pairing: marisol/lottie (litg) word count: 2,302 read on ao3
Lottie couldn’t fathom why the coffee shop she worked at was even open. Snow was pouring down outside, the roads were abysmal, every other barista on the closing shift had called out for the day, and even the owners had taken off early.
Staying open for a handful of broke college students that lived within walking distance couldn’t possibly be worth paying the electricity bill for the lights and espresso machines, let alone Lottie's salary.
To cope with having to close the shop alone, Lottie reminded herself that the slow business meant that she was technically being paid to read a book behind the counter and play games on her phone. With free coffee.
There were worse ways to spend an evening.
Peaceful silence, though, was meant to be broken. The bell rang, signalling that someone had entered the café and Lottie looked up to see who it was.
The girl was bundled to high heaven. Lottie had to stifle a laugh to remain a level of professionalism. She was at work, after all, even if she had been scrolling through social media in an empty café for the past three hours.
“Cold out?” Lottie asked, maintaining a pleasant enough tone that the girl would likely miss her sarcasm.
“It’s dry snow, at least.” The girl took off her glasses, cleaning them with the hem of her sweater before replacing them. “I’m going to take off my coat before I order if that’s alright.”
Lottie shrugged, glancing pointedly at all of the empty tables. “Take all the time you need.”
She returned to her phone, feeling awkward watching the girl take off her coat. Despite being a little dorky, the girl seemed nice enough. Lottie only resented her for the fact that she’d have to actually make a drink.
“I’m glad you’re open,” the girl said when she returned to the till, “I was worried I’d make the trek down the street for nothing.”
“That makes one of us,” Lottie said, “you’re the first person I’ve seen in ages.”
“Sorry to disturb your evening, then.” The girl blushed, then shook herself. “Could I get a mocha, please? For here. The largest you’ve got.”
Lottie held up a large ceramic mug, nearly the size of a cereal bowl, that she sometimes offered to customers when she was feeling either silly or generous. She was feeling neither at the moment, only a desire to avoid making loads of drinks for this girl. The giant mug front-loaded all the labour.
The girl giggled. “Sure, that’ll do.”
“Anything else?” Lottie gave her a pained smile.
“No, that’s all.”
“Can I get a name for the order?”
The girl quirked an eyebrow. “There’s no one else here.”
“Protocol.” Really, Lottie was just curious, wanting a name to curse in the back of her mind for making her actually have to do her job. And whether or not the girl knew that, she didn’t particularly care.
“Marisol,” the girl said. Marisol paid for her drink then dropped a few crumpled notes in the tip jar as a peace offering.
“Be right out, love.” Lottie watched with a frown as Marisol returned to her table and began unpacking her things. It seemed she was preparing to be there for a while.
A meager tip couldn’t buy Lottie out of her bad mood, though. She flicked on the milk frother, nearly scalding herself with steam in her hurry. Two pumps of the chocolate syrup made it into the mug, but the third landed squarely on Lottie's sleeve.
This girl had her in such a tizzy, no one would guess she'd been making coffee at this exact machine in this exact shop for the last year.
Marisol. She thought the name with a nasty intonation.
"One mocha for Marisol," she said, sweetly, emphasizing the alliteration.
-
Marisol thanked the barista, Lottie, according to her name tag, for the drink. She was appreciative of the larger mug, but part of her worried that she’d spill the drink on the way back to her seat.
Lottie’s intense aura was threatening enough to make Marisol instantly self-conscious. It didn’t help that she was the only person in the café. There was nowhere to hide in the rows of empty tables.
She did her best to ignore Lottie, laying out her textbooks next to her laptop and opening her bag of pens and highlighters. At least it would be quiet. These places were usually packed during finals week, but the snow had kept everyone at bay.
“Let me know if you need anything else,” Lottie called over, “I’ll just be over here.”
“Got it!” Marisol smiled back, giving an appreciative nod, even though she sensed a sarcastic tinge to Lottie’s kindness.
It wasn’t as difficult to ignore Lottie once she put on her headphones and pressed play on her studying playlist. Marisol, in the last year of her pre-law degree, had three finals for the next week. And all of them were for some of the most difficult classes she’d ever taken. It would be a miracle if this finals season didn’t kill her.
I'm a paying customer, Marisol reminded herself when she felt Lottie staring at her again, I have every right to be here.
She looked up at Lottie, smiled, and returned to her studies.
The coffee, once it had cooled enough that Marisol could drink it, was good, at least. Despite the menacing glares from the artisan who had crafted it, the mocha was done just how she liked it. She'd forgotten to ask for one less pump of chocolate syrup, intimidated by the barista, but it still hadn't been made too sweet.
She took a sip of the drink for every page she read, powering through the designated chapter of her textbook with renowned vigor. She'd made it through half the chapter—and a quarter of her drink—when she was interrupted with a tap on the shoulder.
“I’m going to sweep the floors,” Lottie told her. “Would you mind if I got under your table?”
Marisol huffed, annoyed at having been derailed when she was finally starting to get some work done.
“Sure.”
“Thank you,” Lottie scooted the chairs out. “Sorry to bother you.”
Wordlessly, Marisol returned to her studying, pressing play on her music again. She blushed, trying her best to ignore the barista sweeping under her feet. It was odd, the way she reacted to Lottie’s presence.
Marisol wasn’t a nervous person, usually. She prided herself on her poker face, knowing she’d make a good lawyer someday because of her ability to keep cool under pressure. All it took, turned out, was one snippy barista to have her completely unraveled.
She turned to look out the window, letting her eyes settle anywhere but on the witch with the broom at her feet. She startled when a streak of black jumped out of the snow.
“What?” Lottie frowned down at Marisol’s outburst.
“There was something in the snow.”
The blush creeping across Marisol’s cheeks worsened and she hoped that the thing would reappear, keeping her from feeling totally stupid. As if the universe had granted her one wish, the thing jumped out from the snow again, pouncing on a falling snowflake.
It was a cat.
“Oh my god.” Lottie laughed, surprised. “I won’t lie, I thought you were losing it.”
-
Lottie watched the little black cat through the window as it rolled in the snow, giggling, despite herself at the sight.
“It’s cute,” Marisol said, discarding her headphones to go to the window. “And probably cold.”
“Well, I’m not letting it in.” Lottie put a hand on her hip.
As cute as the cat was, she wasn’t keen on cat hair getting on the tables.
Marisol pouted. “But it’ll freeze.”
“What if I get in trouble?” Lottie said. Truthfully, the owners probably wouldn’t mind unless a patron complained. And Lottie would be surprised if anyone else came in for the rest of the night. They were already only a few hours out from closing and the snow was still coming down.
“Tell the owners it followed me in.”
Lottie frowned. “What if it hops up on the tables?”
“I’ll keep an eye out,” Marisol pleaded. “Please?”
“Urgh, fine.” Lottie stomped to the door and flung it open, letting the cat in along with a gust of cold air. “Only because you asked nicely.”
Really, Lottie wasn’t sure why she’d given in so easily. A few minutes ago she’d started sweeping the lobby of the café just to annoy Marisol into leaving, and now she was letting a stray cat in just to keep her from pouting.
Where had her backbone gone?
Marisol watched with a smile on her face as the cat pranced into the shop. The cat stopped at Lottie’s legs, brushing up against her black jeans.
“Aw, she likes you,” Marisol cooed.
Lottie had always attracted cats. Strays followed her home from work more days than they didn’t. She wasn’t amused, though. This cat wasn’t going to get on her good side so easily.
“Are you going to take her home? Because she’s not welcome here after hours.”
“I might do.” Marisol crossed her arms. “I don’t want to leave her out in the cold…”
“Right.” Lottie sighed. “Just… Keep her off the tables.”
-
Before long, the cat—Marisol had taken to calling her Mocha after the drink she kept lunging after—had fallen asleep on the bench seat, resting its head in Marisol’s lap. Mocha’s company was much preferable to the moody barista’s, though Lottie had seemed to soften since letting the cat in.
There was something going on between them that Marisol couldn’t quite put her finger on. First they’d been at odds and tense, then, enter the cat, and something shifted. Lottie was trying to keep up the grumpy and aloof mood of before, but Marisol kept catching her smiling at the sleeping cat.
Another hour passed, of Marisol working and Lottie pretending not to fawn over Mocha, and Marisol pretending she didn’t see Lottie’s smiles.
Finally, Marisol grew tired of the charade.
“Do you have lots of work to do? You could come sit over here, if you want.”
“I wouldn’t want to disturb you,” Lottie said. Which wasn’t ‘no’.
Marisol gave Lottie a friendly smile, trying her best to communicate that there was no more ill will between them. “You’re ogling the cat.”
“I’m not ogling…” Lottie huffed. “Fine.”
She tossed a dish towel aside and picked up her book, bringing it to the table where she sat on the bench seat. She sat gently, so as not to disturb sleeping Mocha.
It was so clear to Marisol that Lottie was much softer than she let on. Which was a strange observation to have of a stranger, but something about Lottie just made sense to Marisol. She could see right through her. And just beneath the surface, she was a secret sweetheart.
“Isn’t she sweet?” Marisol asked, because she didn’t know Lottie well enough to say anything more substantive. Even if she felt like she knew Lottie a little. Even if, dizzyingly, she realized that she wanted to know Lottie better.
“I suppose she is.” Lottie reached out, tentatively petting the soft fur on Mocha’s back. “She’s also loitering.”
“She had a sip of my mocha if that helps her case.”
After a beat, Lottie laughed. She seemed surprised that Marisol was making a joke. “Did she really?”
Marisol giggled. “No, but not for lack of trying.”
The girls sat in silence for a moment, Marisol caught Lottie’s gaze. She almost sighed audibly at the way the girl’s eyes twinkled. Lottie was pretty when she wasn’t being rude.
“Have you thought of a name for her?” Lottie asked, looking back down to the cat. There was a pink tinge growing on her cheeks, though Marisol could almost convince herself she’d imagined it.
“Mocha,” Marisol said, “for attempted mocha-stealing crimes.”
“That’s cute.”
“I thought so.”
Lottie hummed, patted Mocha again. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
For just a moment, Marisol was unsure whether Lottie was speaking to her or to Mocha. She shook her head and returned to her work. Surely, she meant the cat.
- I hope you enjoyed this, Iris! I would have never written this pairing if it weren't for the prompt, so I hope I did them justice <3
thank you to Sarah and Margot for organizing this exchange, I'm so excited to read what everyone's put together!!
