GUYS GUYS GUYS THE COFFEE SHOP AU THINGY IS DONE (first chapt at least. this whole thing is going to be AT LEAST 5 chapters)
imma tag these people, for wonderful awesome ideas: @puzzle-of-life-reason-for-death (for coming up with the headcanon/awesome au), @baitsakhan-adlai (for glaring at me constantly across the room telling me telepathically to hurry up), @13thendgameplayer (for the beautiful pickup lines you supplied, truly they were amazing, i swear to god imma use more of them in the next chapts), @redheaded-sniper-girl (this is to repent my sins, im sry this part wasnt mac’s perspective, i promise at least some of it will be, i hope you like this), and @baitsabeeisreal (bc even tho she didnt really contribute, she’s like the #1 baitsabee fan out there)
okay, yeesh, long boring credits are over, now lets get on with the show!! :D
CHAPTER 1: HOT, DARK, STRONG, JUST LIKE ME
The first time was an accident.
Baitsakhan didn’t really mean to walk into a coffee shop that wasn’t Starbucks, it just kind of happened. His legs kind of just… carried him away from the Starbucks nearest to his house, and since he couldn’t be bothered to walk an extra block to the second closest Starbucks, he decided to try out that shady looking “Endgame” cafe. Edgy name, Baitsakhan thought absent-mindedly. Well, technically he did have reason, and it wasn’t really an accident, but hey, he can’t just say he didn’t want to go back to the Starbucks because he was pissed at the cashier. That Hilal something, who was all about niceness and world peace and all that other nonsensical bull. It just pissed him off, how people could be so cheery and kind. The Incident last week, involving at least a dozen pamphlets on saving the environment and using Baitsakhan as a bulletin board, was the final straw. He couldn’t go back to Starbucks after that, and what right did the world have to take away coffee from a poor, sleep-deprived, coffee-needing teenager, right?
A text lit his phone just when he was about halfway across the street. He ignored the faint vibration. Really, it could only be three people: Jalair, his very over-protective brother who wouldn’t let him do anything remotely fun (“Baitsakhan, what are you doing to that poor kitten?” “Oh, I don’t know, maybe just cutting off his tail with a butter knife if you suddenly went blind today.” “How could you do that to poor Muffin??!!”), his horribly awesomely social sister Sarangerel who had a bajillion times more friends than Baitsakhan (“A bajillion times zero is still zero Baits.” “That’s not my point.”), or his Chinese friend (read: only friend) An Liu (contrary to popular belief, Baitsakhan did have one friend, though even he didn’t care to admit it). Turns out, curiousity got the better of him, and after another five or six continuous obnoxious buzzes (by now he was sure it was Sarangerel), Baitsakhan whipped out his phone angrily, prepared to type out a biting lecture about why friends and family should not double text and annoy the hell out of him in the process, when he realised –– with a frown –– that the number displayed on his phone was an unfamiliar one, labelled neither “Mother-Hen”, nor “Social Butterfly”, nor “Asian Hacker Lovebird”. In fact, the area code displayed it wasn’t even from the area.
And all of them, every single text, was the same thing: bring me the goddamned ice cream. A final: ais ik ur redin these txts topped it off.
The atrocious grammar pissed him off. So did the fact that this person called him freaking Ais. What kind of name was that, anyways? Typing furiously, a long paragraph was added to the message: F off, I’m not Ais. You’ve got the wrong number idiot. Besides, who would give ice cream to you?? Loser. By the way, don’t text me back. Like ever again. Delete this message immediately, or my weird hacker friend will be out to get you and possibly put a bullet through your head with a drone if you don’t. Have a nice life!
Feeling pleased with his impeccable grammar, and his nice little response, Baitsakhan continued along towards the coffee shop. The a hidden speaker above the door emitted a faint ringing noise, which was, too be honest, quite annoying. He didn’t understand how anyone could stand hearing that sound hundreds of times a day. For once, he kind of felt bad for the baristas.
The coffee shop was surprisingly quite crowded, at least compared to what Baitsakhan’s expectations would be. In the far corner, a sturdy-looking dark-skinned girl sat opposite of another one, except slim and of Indian heritage. Closer to the entrance sat a woman, hijab covering half her head, alone, sipping a cup of coffee with an icy expression on her face. Near the cashier, three people were chatting animatedly, a guy with a scar on his face holding hands with a blond girl, sitting across from a pretty Native-American girl.
Baitsakhan made a face. He really should have just sucked it up and settled with Starbucks. All these annoying people… at least the Starbucks was relatively quiet. Sighing, he made a mental note not to come back again, before begrudgingly trudging up to the counter.
The boy standing at the counter was presumably in his late teens, his hair honey colored with streaks of something darker tied up into a short ponytail, displaying a set of silver earrings that contrasted nicely with his immaculate jet-black suit, though steaks of it were already coming loose. It suited him nicely, Baitsakhan couldn’t help but notice. His electric blue eyes, wary like that of a predator’s, flashed eagerly at having another customer, perhaps saving him from his endless boredom. A nonchalant expression crossed his face, followed by a knowing smirk, and then was once again replaced by a mockingly polite look as he called out,
“How may I help you?”
Baitsakhan stared unabashedly at the guy, unamused.
“I thought this was a coffee shop. Get me some goddamned coffee.”
Something akin to surprise appeared in the cashier’s eyes, but like every other emotion quickly disappeared. He probably didn’t get rude comments like this often. Serves him right, thought Baitsakhan, trying to ignore the boy’s undeniable hotness as a feral grin spread across the guy’s face. The name Maccabee was written on a pin proudly hung from the guy’s breast pocket. Baitsakhan duly noted this, for no reason at all. He had no reason to store away this kind of information. He totally wasn’t planning on coming back again.
“Okayyy then,” he drawled, every word unnecessarily lengthened, “How would you like your coffee?”
“Hot, dark, strong.” Baitsakhan had no time for this nonsense.
“Just like me then,” Maccabee said, waggling his eyebrows.
Baitsakhan stared, unimpressed,
“Do you flirt with everything that walks on two legs?”
Again, the guy looks surprised. Probably hasn’t had a pick-up line thrown back at his face before, Baitsakhan thinks with a smirk.
“Nope, just cute ones.”
The barista turned to make the coffee, and thank God he turned to make the coffee, because Baitsakhan has chosen just the right time to have his face turn completely red.
Ugh.
He really should have just gone to Starbucks.
A/N:
cringey title, cringey chapter title, cringey everything… sounds about right
i should have mentioned before, YES I TOTALLY SHIP AN AND BAITS AS A BROTP EVEN THO ITS SUPER WEIRD AND THEY PROB HATE EACH OTHER CANON BUT WHO CARES.
also, sorry about the non-typical depiction of maccabee, i kinda just imagined him with long hair one day and it… kinda spiralled off into the void?? idk. i kinda like it.
ALSO, i sorta maybe incorporated a wrong number!au into this also. sue me, i was playing around with thing and it got outta hand, ok
next chapt will be up by the end of the week (hopefully earlier, i have an hr to write tomorrow, and this chapt only took an hr, so… possibly tomorrow :) no guarantees tho)
All Anna wanted was help with their history project when she accidentally texted Jo. Luckily, Jo happens to know who she's trying to reach and corrects her. Anna thanks her and that should be that, but the exchange leaves them both curious. Do they go to the same high school? Are they each other's age? After each girl asks Charlie what the other is like ("Who, Anna? She's a sweetheart. Real pretty redhead, like yours truly. Never hurt a fly either." "Jo's one of my best friends! I love that girl. We even dated for a while in seventh grade. Why do you ask?"), the girls continue talking, as if they known each other for years. They become incredibly close friends, but one night, Jo goes out with close friends (Charlie, Dean Winchester, and his baby brother Sam), gets totally smashed, and drunkenly texts Anna. Dean hastens to correct her mistake and repair the damages, but Jo is sure her delicate friendship with Anna can no longer be repaired.
