Napkin
[Coffee AU] Scaramouche x gn!smoker!reader
cw: smoking, it's not a constant theme but mentioned at the start and end.
The first time Scaramouche saw you at the café, he barely bats an eye. You're just another customer, nothing new. The usual order isn't something out of the ordinary either, a simple drink from the menu and food with barely any additions.
Your usual seat is far from the counter he usually works at, preferring to sit at the outside area to smoke a few sticks of cigarettes before pouring your focus on typing away on your laptop.
The one time he really paid attention to your presence is when he realised you've been here for hours, typing away on your computer. Only sparing the second floor view a few times whilst puffing out the smoke of your dimly lit cigarette.
He only scoffs, wanting there to be no ashes on the table.
The second time he acknowledged you was when a customer yelled at him for getting his order wrong. Usually when this type of altercation happens, Nahida takes care of the situation as Scaramouche is still improving his temper.
Irritatingly, Nahida is out to buy ingredients, trusting Scaramouche enough to let him take over the establishment for the day.
Alas, the entire café's attention is solely on the yelling customer and the employee taking the hit trying his best to not smackdown him into the ground.
Scaramouche can barely say a single word before he continued shouting at him.
The customer's rant went into a halt when he felt someone tapping his shoulder. "Is your name... Azar?"
He scoffs much like a child would, acting all superior to everyone around him. "That would be me, yes."
You sighed, really not in the mood for an asshole to waste your time. “Then this must be yours,” you held the coffee cup, the name “Azar” clearly written on it with a black sharpie.
Azar, with a combination of anger and embarrassment clearly written on his face, took the cup from your hands. He can see the name Azar on it, whilst the cup that he’s holding before has (y/n) written on it.
The older man then pointed to Scaramouche, not willing to admit fault. “Your writing is horrible, what kind of employee are you?!”
Before Scaramouche could give a piece of his mind, you interrupted first, "maybe you should fix your eyesight." Azar turned his head towards you in disbelief.
"How dare you...--" it was then that Azar realized the commotion that had gathered around his outburst. A mother even closed her son's ear from his shouting. Clearly embarassed by the situation the old man grabbed his drink, almost spilling the coffee, and left with his face red with anger.
Scaramouche couldn't help but let out a sigh, the one time Nahida went out is right when a customer had an outburst. "You okay?" a voice called out, yours.
"The longer you work here, the more you'll get used to it," it was a lie. This is the first time someone had yelled at him for a mistake he didn't even made, usually Nahida would take care of any inconveniences.
You hummed, taking away the cup of coffee that 'Azar' had been saying was his. Scaramouche thought you were going to throw it out and ask for another drink; Azar's mouth had already touched that one after all.
But with the way you walked at opposite direction of the trash can made him think otherwise. Scaramouche raised his eyebrow, "surely, you're not going to drink that...?"
"Why not?" you shrugged, not seeing the big deal. Yes, a portion of it was drunk by the yelling customer, but it's still drinkable with the lid off.
Scaramouche scoffed, "place that in the counter, I'll make you another one. Free of charge."
You didn't move for a moment, slightly stunlocked. You've noticed the barista multiple times; he's quiet, does his job well, and any loud altercations would be dealt by a small child with green hair, as strange as that might be.
"What, cat got your tongue?"
Your train of thought came into a halt as he said that. Not wanting to share a cup with an old man anyway, you placed it on the counter. "Same order, please."
Scaramouche took the cup and chuckled; it sounded degrading, but certainly doesn't feel like it.
As Scaramouche began to re-do your order, he feels you staring directly at him. It's not the first time a customer stared at him while he's making their drink, and it most likely won't be the last.
It's you specifically that interests him. A regular that usually sits near the balcony to smoke and work on their laptop; kept to yourself and never brought anyone with you here. It was the first time that you were staring at him.
And it definitely won't be the only time.
What started as a customer helping out their favorite café's barista ended as a blooming friendship. The two of you grew close as conversations began when Scaramouche is preparing your drink. Some days it's a short exchange, some days it even continued until his next break.
What she finds most fascinating is his spike in interest for a regular. Nahida knows who you are, you've talked before when she asked about any critisism on beverages you ordered that day.
Nahida noticed a significant improvement in his... less than amazing social skills. Scaramouche still dislike talking to people, but when he does it lasts about 30% longer than before! He can hold a decent conversation well, what matters is how long it'll take before he throws an insult at them.
It was a gradual bond between you two. Both of your personalities matched, even if Scaramouche throws his own batch of less than endearing terms at you, he never really meant it; usually you would throw your own remarks at him back anyway.
There was a moment where her interest truly reached the peak, though.
Scaramouche wiped the counter in front of him clean. The usually white napkin had turned brown and dirty, though smelling deliciously.
A customer had spilled their coffee all over it, and since it's in the middle of the week; most of the college part-timers are in their classes, only coming to work for their afternoon shifts.
The bell at the door jingled as usual, ringing loud for the employees to greet the next customer. Scaramouche didn't went along with the habit that other employees have, he never did and therefore he didn't have to.
"The usual," a familiar voice said, not even bothering to look at the list of food and beverages available, already pushing the exact amount of cash on the table.
Scaramouche recognized the voice easily, placing the dirty napkin on the side and your money inside the cash register. "It's as if picking other things would kill you," he scoffed, but already started making your usual either way.
You leaned against the counter, playing along his usual words. "I'm not even sure you're used to making things new," Scaramouche scoffed at that.
"Oh, please lower your ego, since when am I a [y/n]-only barista," he laughs mockingly, pouring the ingredients needed for the order.
You're already used to him at this point, even finding it amusingat times. Playing along once more, you took the laminated menu from the counter, "then something new..."
"... is 'Scaramouche's heart' available?"
Scaramouche almost overspilled the carton as he heard that. You've insulted him back many times, but that? You've never done that.
It's a cheesy line, he already heard it from multiple people that he served. Scaramouche usually doesn't care, he shuts them down because he's not interested in them; wether or not they take it well is none of his concern. One thing is for certain, they usually leave him alone not long after.
To you though, he doesn't feel like he wants to reject your advances. It was a strange... feeling, to somehow become stunlocked when you're doing something you've been doing for a long time. His hand feels as warm as the liquid inside the cup, everytime his eyes closed to blink he feels them getting warmer.
Realizing quickly you were still watching and wiating for his response, he continued finishing your drink. "Use your eyes and read something from the menu for once," he scoffed.
You smiled along, unaware of his internal dilemma just few short seconds ago. Scaramouche quickly finishes your drink, muscle memory from all the times you came here coming in handy.
He grabbed the nearest napkin he saw and placed in on the counter in front of you, alongside the drink. His heat earlier had already dissipated, but his breathing feels heavier than usual.
"Here," he said, somehow sounding gentler than usual.
You laughed at the drop of bitterness that came last, but it's fine; you never mind bittersweet tastes after all. "Thanks, Scara," you smiled, walking away from the counter to your usual spot.
Not far from the counter, Nahida watches closely. Improvements have been incredibly significant, she observed, drinking the tea on her table. She smiled, happy that Scaramouche feels safe enough to let his guards down.
You placed your cup down on the table, though separating it from the napkin that Scaramouche gave you as well. A simple laugh couldn't help but escape.
It's a dirty napkin, coffee stains and the delicious smell on it.
'Must've been distracted,' you thought, not really minding the mistake. Maybe you'll finally gather the courage and ask him to hang out outside the café. Pulling out the match and cigarette pack from your pockets, you placed one of it in your mouth and lit it easily.
Looking back at the counter with a cigarette in mouth, you see a glimpse of his figure; making the drink of another customer.
Pulling out the stick to exhale the smoke and feel the numbing heat on your tongue, a thought that has been repeating in your head on multiple occasions appeared again.
'God, he is so cute.'
