A/N: Part one of something that's either going to be a two- or three-shot. Enjoy.
Ambrosia
If you ask twenty different people where you can get the best coffee in the city, you'll probably get twenty different answers.
Everybody's got their favorites, from fancy places to the chains to the cute, kitschy ones.
But the ones who know - who really know - swear by a place called Ambrosia.
It's this squat, funky little building wedged like an annoying stone in a shoe tread between two bigger office complexes. It's a building that knows it's out of place among the highrises and skyscrapers downtown, and resolutely does not give a fuck.
The logo reflects that: the word Ambrosia is a scrawled in spiky handwriting in white on an all-black background, and the first A is a version of an anarchy symbol. (The circle is flattened on one side, so it almost looks like a capital D.)
The sign looks more like something you'd see on a biker bar than a coffee shop, and to Roman Reigns that's part of what makes the place really interesting.
Inside, it's like that, too, with black brick wall paper that's covered with an array of battered street signs, old license plates, and strands of barbed wire that have been flattened so the barbs don't catch any unsuspecting customers. There's even an old jukebox that's been cleverly converted into a freebie newspaper rack. And it's modern rock playing over the speakers in the place - quietly - instead of typical coffee shop music.
All that's missing are the neon beer signs and scuffed pool tables.
And instead of dudes wearing leather bellied up to the bar, there's the usual coffee-shop assortment of bleary-eyed college kids squinting at their laptops and a few elderly people chatting over fresh pastries.
It's eight-thirty, so it won't be very crowded.
On his way to work every morning, Roman drives by here and there's always people lined up out the door here - regardless of the weather.
People are that damn serious about their coffee.
So is Roman, but since he's half-owner of his own architectural and engineering firm, he can also afford to wait a half-hour before venturing out for the daily fix.
He always comes here himself.
Antonio thinks it's weird, since they have two coffee-drinking junior employees they could send on the coffee run, but if Roman's honest, it's not just the coffee he comes down here for.
He's not honest.
It's just the coffee.
It's definitely - definitely - not to stare at the guy who works the coffee machines.
Ambrosia has, as far as Roman can tell, three employees:
There's Corey, the guy who works the register. He's about Roman's height, handsome, lean, and tatted up. He wears tight jeans, a tight tee shirt, and an apron. Looks like the kind of guy who'd be just as home at a biker bar as he would some trendy neon-drenched nightclub. He's laid-back and friendly, knows his shit, and doesn't ever seem to get his feathers ruffled by customers acting like jackasses. Big hit with the ladies (and some of the guys, too). Roman's seen more than one person slide Corey their phone number - despite the presence of a wedding ring.
There's Finn, the guy who does the pastries. He's shorter than Roman, dark-haired and blue-eyed, and very mellow. Good-looking. As he's loading up the pastry cases, he'll chat with the customers who happen to be nearby, and never seems to not have a smile. Gets flustered easily, Roman's noticed more than once, especially when someone compliments him instead of his pastries.
And then there's Coffee Wizard.
Silent, slouchy, and scruffy, Coffee Wizard looks like about the last guy Roman would expect to be running a coffee machine. On days he shaves (Mondays and Thursdays - not that Roman's really paying attention), he looks like some kind of college frat bro: black baseball cap worn backward, jeans, tennis shoes, and either a black or a gray Ambrosia tee shirt. Days he doesn't shave, he looks more like some dude who stumbled out of a scuzzy dive bar after last call, squinting and tired and surly.
He doesn't wear a nametag, doesn't acknowledge anyone (including Roman) who thanks him, and doesn't ever turn away from the coffee machines to look at anyone.
All he does is make the coffee.
It's as weird as it is off-putting because who the hell doesn't at least nod or wave or something when someone says 'Thank you'? Who the hell stands there completely avoiding eye contact with-
(-me-)
-anyone and everyone who steps up to the register?
Coffee Wizard's customer service skills are probably the worst Roman's ever seen.
Of course, the guy also makes the best cup of coffee in the city, so most people give him a pass on it.
But Roman Reigns isn't most people.
Not that he actually gives a damn about Coffee Wizard's mangy butt.
It's just about the coffee.
Really.
It is.
(It's not.)
It's just the coffee.
That's why, on a bored Wednesday in the middle of September, Roman says to Corey across the counter, "Antonio, Tyler, and Bayley are having their usual, but I'm in the mood for something different."
"Okay," Corey says easily. Everything about him is easy, from the way he's behind the register to the way his clothes fit, he's one of those guys who just manages to project cool without trying. Even the way he twirls the pen around his fingers is cool. "Whatcha got in mind?"
"Not sure," Roman admits, turning a little so his words are aimed vaguely at the coffee machines. Coffee Wizard's over in front of them, his back mostly to the register, four cups already in one hand and his Sharpie in the other. "Dark roast maybe?"
Coffee Wizard, he thinks absently, has kind of a flat ass, but it's not bad in those jeans, and-
What?
He jerks his eyes up to the menu, pretending he doesn't see the way Corey raises his eyebrows. "Yeah, the dark roast. Make it a large."
"Large dark," Corey says. "Good choice. That's my favorite." He taps the order in on his screen, and glances over his shoulder at Coffee Wizard. "Catch that? Usual for Tyler, Antonio, and Bayley, and a large dark for Roman."
Coffee Wizard's scrawling names on the sides of the cups. He has the most impatient handwriting Roman's ever seen, all spiky, half-formed letters like he doesn't want to bother finishing one letter before moving on to the next. He doesn't look up from where he's writing Roman's name. "Uh-huh."
Roman passes Coery his card to pay, and forces himself to look right instead of left, to the flyers on the window advertising some local bands he's never heard of.
There's only two other people in the shop right now, and no one in line behind him, but he feels really in-the-way for some reason. Like he's sticking out.
It's not exactly a new feeling.
At six-three and a healthy two-fifty, he tends to stand out - especially now that he's let Antonio talk him into splurging on suits that actually fit him instead of the discount crap that only half-fit him before. Now he's walking around in steel grays the same color as his eyes, or pin-striped blacks with blue or white shirts and his hair down, and he can feel the difference.
Strutting into a room knowing he looks good, it's done wonders for his confidence.
Presence, is what Antonio calls it.
It's why he's the one who usually deals with the clients, while Antonio stays behind the scenes designing.
But here it just feels weird, and he's not sure he likes it.
"Hey so," Corey says, handing Roman's debit card back over, "I've been meaning to ask, Roman. What is it you do, anyway?"
Roman puts his wallet away, and leans on the counter again. "Architecture and engineering. My business partner and I, we started a firm next door about a year ago."
"You-? Oh, that's awesome. So you guys design buildings. Anything I'd know?"
"You been by the little apartment building that's going up on Hamilton and Ridgecrest? That's us. Our first."
Corey nods and smiles in his easy way. "I've seen the construction. Wasn't sure if it was offices or what. That's cool, though. Seeing it come together, that's gotta be cool for you guys."
"Yeah, man." That's the best part.
"So, you guys do houses, too? Or just buildings?"
"Right now we're doing whatever," Roman says. "There's a lot of competition out there, and we can't afford to be picky yet. So buildings, houses, and hell, we'd even design dog houses if it came to that." He's only half-kidding. "How long have you guys been here, anyway?"
"Well, I mean, I've only worked here a year," Corey says, "but I think-" He looks around at Coffee Wizard. "When did you open this place, boss? October of '13?"
"Yeah," Coffee Wizard grunts. He's snapping the lid on Roman's coffee, head down and mostly turned away.
So apparently he's the boss.
And maybe he owns the place.
Huh.
Corey says something about celebrating the shop's anniversary, but Roman's too busy adding these new pieces of information to his mental Coffee Wizard blueprint to pay much attention to it, an arm hitched up on the pastry case and his tie tweezed between the fingers of his other hand.
The black long-sleeved tee shirt Coffee Wizard is wearing looks soft and and a little wash-faded; it rides up enough to expose the black elastic of his underwear when he reaches up for another lid.
Christ, Reigns.
Roman's face is actually burning when he looks away. Like he's a teenager caught staring at one of his old man's porno mags or something.
This time, Corey's too busy assembling a paper drink carrier to notice, thank God.
When Coffee Wizard brings the last two cups over for Corey to pack in, Roman makes it a point to look right at him. "Thanks, man. This is killer coffee."
Coffee Wizard slips Roman's cup into the carrier. Doesn't look up. "'Course it is."
"He means thank you," Corey says.
"No, I don't," Coffee Wizard mutters on his way back to the coffee machines.
But he tosses Roman a completely unreadable look over his shoulder, one that lasts just long enough for Roman to finally add blue eyes to the Coffee Wizard blueprint.
Roman manages not to smile when he grabs the drink carrier and heads out, but it's a close call.
"Well," Corey says, breaking into Roman's train of thought, "I mean thank you. Thanks for the business, man. Really appreciate it. See you tomorrow."
"Yeah," Roman says to Coffee Wizard's back. See you."
Coffee Wizard doesn't turn, but that's okay.
This has challenge written all over it, and Roman's nothing if not up for a challenge.
It's just because he kind of wants to know Coffee Wizard's secret.
Where he gets his grounds and what the hell he does to make it taste as good as it does.
"What are you smiling about?" Bayley demands the second Roman hands her her cup.
Roman likes Bayley. She's their part-time help-slash-intern, a go-getter college student with the kind of smarts and work ethic that makes Roman hope like hell they'll have the money to hire her full-time when she graduates. She's big into interior design, and has Antonio's knack for making something that's both eye-catching and functional.
They pay her just above minimum wage and the best coffee in the city, and she never complains.
She's a sweetheart.
Also nosy.
Too damn nosy for her own good.
She's back in the conference room where Roman left her, her laptop open on the big table and the draft prints Antonio had asked her to look over on the screen, bare feet kicked carelessly up on an empty chair.
The firm right now only has two offices, and that's good enough. Since Antonio and Roman are the only ones here full-time, they're the only ones who need offices. Bayley doesn't mind working out of the conference room, and Tyler's so possessive of the front reception desk it's bordering on creepy, and it's working.
Somehow, some way this half-assed plan they'd hatched over lunch on a day where they'd both been just fed the hell up of working for someone else is working.
They're a full year and a handful of jobs in, and it feels like they're starting to get some traction. There are still too many days when Tyler doesn't have much to do besides sit up front and either dick around on Twitter or page through one of his billion fashion magazines, but it's getting better.
The ground still doesn't feel all that solid yet, but it doesn't feel like the quicksand it used to even three months ago.
It's put everybody in a hell of a lot better mood, and it's why, instead of telling Bayley it's none of her damn business, he smiles wider and says, "You know me. Just like it when days get off to a good start."
Bayley wraps both hands around the cup and takes a sip. "Did senpai finally notice you?"
He'd make the monumental mistake of bringing her with him to get coffee one day; on their way back to the office, she'd nudged him and said she thought it was cute how he was checking out the barista.
"You've got puppy dogs eyes and everything," she'd said, blowing steam away from her coffee. "Just waiting for your coffee senpai to notice you."
He never brought her with him to get coffee again.
Today, he brings his coffee cup to his mouth and says, "Quit that. You know I ain't about that. Getting noticed. I just want-"
"To know where he gets his coffee beans," Bayley finishes with him. It's his standard line of defense. She doesn't fall for it any more now than she did the first time he used it. "Why don't you want to tell me what happened?"
It's Roman's turn to shoot her a look. "Nothing happened. Besides, even if something had and I told you, in three minutes' time I'd have Tyler and Antonio in my office to interrogate me. Y'all got no respect for a man's privacy."
"Right, like you don't give me the third degree whenever I talk about Enzo?"
Her boyfriend, a strange, but decent dude with some of the weirdest hair Roman's ever seen. "That's different," he says, heading for the door. "Just wanna make sure he's treating you right."
She huffs. "I can take care of myself. You know I can."
"Yeah, 'course I know that." He's not patronizing: she's one of the toughest people he's ever met. Probably kick his ass if she was mad enough. "Doesn't mean I don't care."
"Well, I care about you," she says. "Antonio says you haven't been out with anyone in over a year. Just want to make sure you're happy. That's all."
He pauses in the doorway and turns to offer her a smile. "Like I said, no respect for a man's privacy. Don't worry about me. You got those changes to Jericho's prints ready for me to send over? Told him I'd have them to him this morning."
Bayley really looks like she wants to say something, but this time she chooses to take the hint. "They're next on my list. Antonio asked me to finish up interior model on the Cage-Copeland house. Give me about an hour?"
"That'll work," he says on his way into the hall. "Thanks, Bayley."
He resolves not to think about it (or anything of the old crap that tries to surface) the rest of the day, and between joining Antonio for another walk-through of the apartment construction site, a meeting with a new client to start going through ideas, and his hours spent going over 3D house models and wire frames, he keeps himself busy enough that he doesn't have time to.
Ambrosia's crowded the rest of the week when Roman goes in, so he's free to stand aside and watch Coffee Wizard do his thing without Corey giving him weird looks.
For all he slouches and dresses like he pulled his clothes on after they'd been in the dryer all week, Coffee Wizard is a dude who moves like he knows exactly what he's doing, all intent concentration and hands that never fumble or grab the wrong thing.
Roman's traitor brain has him wondering if Coffee Wizard's that sure and confident in bed.
Stop that, he growls at himself every time the thought tries to slip in.
Each day, Coffee Wizard himself hands Roman his drink carrier over the counter, even going so far as to make actual eye contact as he does.
Roman says, "Thanks a lot," every time.
Wednesday, Coffee Wizard doesn't answer.
Thursday, he gives Roman the smallest nod.
Friday, he grunts a just-audible, "Yup."
Corey sees them and smiles a very strange little smile.
Roman hurries off with his coffee, suddenly remembering there's...something...at the office he needs to do.
The question about whether or not they grind their coffee beans in-house can wait until later.
On his way across the street, he absolutely does not hear Bayley sing-songing, "Senpai noticed you!" in the back of his mind.
Nope.
Not at all.
But it's like the universe just can't leave it alone.
When Roman heads over to Ambrosia the following Monday morning, he's surprised to find Corey sitting on one of the concrete planters outside, smoke curling up from a cigarette in his fingers. He'd swapped his apron for a brown leather jacket and a pair of aviator shades.
With his hair slicked back, dark boots, and tight tee shirt, he looks like something straight out of a James Dean movie, cool just oozing out of every pore.
"Hey, man," Roman says, pausing at the front of the planter. "Didn't know you were a smoker."
A jerk of a nod, and Corey stubs the smoke out on the planter's concrete edge. "Shitty habit, I know," he says, flicking the butt into the dirt behind him. "My girls are always on me to quit, but there's always something. If my wife's not sick, then it's one of the kids, and - well. That's bullshit. Just excuses. I'm gonna quit." He waves that aside. "Hey, but I'm glad I caught you."
Roman watches an old gray van rattle by on the street. "Yeah? What's up?'
"So, like," Corey says carefully, "I'm gonna be running my youngest to daycare around this time every day this week. So it's just gonna be the boss in there. I was gonna tell you, um. Not that it's any of my business or anything, and not that I really get it, but he's - he does swing that way, if you know what I mean. And he's single."
"Okay," Roman says slowly. Doesn't let himself wince. "And you're telling me this because�"
Corey shoots him an unimpressed look. "You trying to tell me you're not interested? You're up there checking him out every day."
"I do not." When Roman was a junior in high school, one of his cousins pantsed him right the middle of a crowded lunchroom.
This is approximately a thousand times more embarrassing.
It's just supposed to be about the coffee.
"The hell you don't," Corey chuckles quietly. "It's cool, bro. That's what I'm saying. He kinda comes off like a crabby asshole, but he's actually a helluva guy. Done a lot for me and my family this year, so if I can help him, I want to. You know? And you seem like a decent dude yourself. So what I'm saying is there's no reason you couldn't go for it."
Roman looks over at Corey again. "You're gonna be swallowing some teeth if you don't wipe that smug-ass look off your face, son," he says without heat. "But okay, fine. Hypothetically speaking, say a guy was interested. How would they approach him?"
Not that he's actually going to, but it might be good to know.
Corey gets up and brushes cigarette ash off his jeans, which are so tight Roman can almost see the veins in his legs. Antonio likes them that tight, too, on his days off, but Roman's never got the appeal. He actually likes the freedom to move.
Not that Corey seems all that inhibited. He fishes keys out of his pocket and says, "Honestly, man, I don't know how much help I'm gonna be other than telling you to go for it. But I guess just be real. He can spot a bullshitter a mile away. And be patient. Takes him a while to warm up to people. Other than that, like I said, just go for it. Gotta run. Good luck."
He flashes Roman a thumb's up and hurries off around the corner, leaving Roman standing confused in his wake.
Belatedly, it hits him he never even asked Corey Coffee Wizard's name.
Because that would probably be good to know, too.
Just in case.
Inside Ambrosia, it's quiet.
Some mornings are, once the breakfast rush is gone.
Aside from an elderly man reading a newspaper at a table by the front window, and a pair of - probably - college girls pecking away on their laptops at a back table, the place is empty.
Roman's feeling a little like he dragged his skin on wrong this morning, so it's a good thing there aren't too many people around.
He makes his way up to the counter, and the first thing he notices on his way is that Coffee Wizard isn't hovering around the coffee machines like he usually is.
Today, he's up running a rag over the top of the pastry case, lower lip caught between his teeth and a weird crease between his eyebrows.
It's Monday, so he's clean-shaven, and he's wearing a cool black and gray Ambrosia hoodie Roman's never seen before.
He abandons the rag and drifts gingerly over to meet Roman at the register, the frown smoothing away. Two knobby fingers tap the edge of the counter, and he eventually gets around to making eye contact. "Morning."
"Good morning," Roman replies, hitching his right arm up onto the corner of the pastry case. "How's it going?"
"Fine," is the curt answer. Tap. Tap. Tap. "You?"
"I'm always fine, man," Roman replies, smiling. "You know."
He doesn't mean anything by it, but Coffee Wizard rolls his eyes. "You want your usual there, Always Fine?"
Roman almost makes a comment about Coffee Wizard's customer service skills needing some work, but thankfully thinks better of it. Instead, nods and says, "Yes, please."
"'kay. Bear with me a sec. Fucking terrible at this." Coffee Wizard pokes at the register's screen the way someone would if they weren't that familiar with the technology. That crease reappears between his eyebrows.
Roman gets the stupidest urge to reach over and smooth it away. Settles for clearing his throat. "Hey, no worries, man. I'm not in a hurry today."
Tap. TAP. TAP-TAP. "C'mon, ya piece of shit."
"Excuse me?"
"Not you," Coffee Wizard mutters without looking up. "What is it you do? Architecture?"
"Right," Roman nods, pleased. So the guy had been listening. Good to know. "Antonio's the designer, and I'm the engineer. I deal with the clients, too."
"And make the coffee run."
"It keeps the team motivated."
"'Course it does. My coffee's fucking awesome," Coffee Wizard says, poking the register's screen. "Piece of - oh. Okay, there we go. Six-"
But whatever he'd been about to say gets abandoned when the phone hanging beside the door to the kitchen rings. It's a battered old cordless, loud and obnoxious, and Coffee Wizard cusses under his breath before abandoning the register to go grab it. "Total's sixteen-eighty," he tells Roman over his shoulder. Then he grabs the phone out of its cradle. "Ambrosia."
Roman smiles to himself, charmed and amused, and reaches into his jacket pocket for his wallet.
On his way back over to the register, Coffee Wizard says into the phone, "Yeah, Brad, but make it snappy. It's just me in here right now and I'm trying to get an order ready for a customer. The hell does he want?"
He wedges the phone between his ear and shoulder, takes Roman's card, and proceeds to swipe it backwards about five times before he realizes what he's doing. "Dumbass," he mutters under his breath. "No, not you, Brad. It's me. I'm a fuckin' genius with technology, let me tell you. Jesus Christ."
When Roman huffs a laugh, Coffee Wizard glances up and shakes his head ruefully. "Sorry," he mouths, handing Roman's receipt and debit card back across the counter.
"No problem," Roman says, stashing everything away.
Coffee Wizard heads back to start on Roman's order, the phone still wedged between his ear and shoulder, and Roman grabs another freebie newspaper off the rack just so it doesn't look like he's eavesdropping.
He's not, but he can't help it if he's standing close enough to hear Coffee Wizard's side of the conversation.
"The answer is no, Brad," is what he's saying, his Sharpie squeaking its impatient capitals on a cup. "Tell them, and you can quote me on this, that they can shove their 'settlement proposal' where the sun don't shine. The only settlement proposal I'm going to accept is they drop the lawsuit, pay your fees, and then pucker up and kiss my ass. Literally. Otherwise, the answer is 'I'll see you in court, motherfucker. Have fun trying to tapdance outta what my tape shows.' Again, feel free to quote me."
Behind his newspaper, Roman smiles. He likes that. The bluntness. The quiet rasp of Coffee Wizard's voice. Probably sounds amazing during sex, and-
Stop that.
A couple little old ladies totter up to stand in line behind him; he grimaces and shifts to the side, desperately trying to think about anything but pinning Coffee Wizard to the mattress and going wild.
Whoa, whoa, whoa. No.
Coffee Wizard ends his call and hangs the phone back up by the kitchen door. On his way back to the finishing Roman's order, he tosses a quick look over at the counter and says, "Be right with you," to the old ladies.
"Thank you, dear," the smaller one says in a quiet, wavering voice.
So much for getting a chance to go for it today.
When Coffee Wizard passes the drink carrier across, he barely spares Roman a glance. The muttered, "Haveagoodone" is rushed, perfunctory.
"Yeah, you too, man," Roman says, picking up his coffees and heading out as fast as he can.
Damn Corey for putting that stupid idea in his head in the first place.
It's Antonio who makes the discovery.
Like Corey, Antonio Cesaro is a dude who's just effortlessly cool and stylish. From the way he never misses a spot when he shaves his head to the mirror shine on his shoes, there's not a single thing about him that's out of place. His suits always look sharp, and he wears the hell out of them (as opposed to Roman, who still sometimes feels like a kid playing dress-up when he knots his ties).
Not even Tyler can find fault in how Antonio dresses, and Tyler can find fault in anything.
But standing at his file cabinet with his glasses hanging out of his mouth, his shirtsleeves rolled up, and a thick folder in his hands, Antonio just oozes swag.
A talented architect with an eye for clean, classic designs, Antonio had been Roman's mentor at Helmsley Architectural. After several thankless years of toil, Antonio had gotten fed up enough and decided to go into business for himself. He'd approached Roman with the idea, and Roman, reeling from a nasty breakup, had jumped at the chance to break away and make a fresh start.
"Ah, good morning," Antonio says. He's always far too upbeat on Mondays. "Just set that on my desk, please. Have a seat while you're at it. I have a couple things for you this morning. How was the weekend?"
Roman slips out of his suit jacket, hangs it over the back of one of Antonio's leather chairs, and sits down. "It was all right. Went and hung out with my cousins. Jimmy finally popped the question to Naomi."
"Oh? That's only, what, a year overdue?" Antonio carefully straightens the papers in his file and slides everything back into the drawer. "Still, it's good for him."
"No kidding," Roman chuckles. "When Jimmy pulled out the ring, Naomi's exact reaction was, 'It's about damn time, fool.' And of course she said yes, so."
Antonio makes his way back around the desk and takes a seat. "Will the wedding be here or back in Florida?"
"They haven't decided that yet," Roman admits, sipping his coffee. It's perfect, as always. "How 'bout you?"
"I played butler all weekend. Natalia was sick. A stomach bug, I think. I'm hoping I - what is that?" He leans forward in his chair suddenly, squinting at Roman's coffee cup. "What does that say? Always fine? What does that mean?"
"What are you talking about?" Roman asks, confused.
"Look at your cup," Antonio tells him, bushy eyebrows raised. "What's written on it. There's an arrow, too."
Sure enough, Coffee Wizard had written ALWAYS FINE on the side of Roman's cup, and it might be his imagination, but the letters look neater than usual, fully-formed instead half-finished. There's a downward-pointing arrow beside them, too, which prompts him to lift the cup look at the bottom.
Scrawled into the white styrofoam is the message "Sorry abt that. Rmnd me tmrow & order's free. -DA." The DA looks like a sloppy version of Ambrosia's anarchy logo.
What the hell?
"Well?" Antonio demands. "What does it say?" After Roman tells him, his eyebrows pull down. "Sorry about what? Did something happen?"
"No," Roman says slowly. "The - you know the guy at Ambrosia? Not the one with the tattoos, but-"
"Your not-so-secret crush?" Antonio chuckles. "I think the whole world knows about that by this point."
"He's not-"
"What about him?"
Roman pulls in a breath and looks out the windows over Antonio's shoulder. One of the reasons they chose this building was the view of the river behind it. It's a good distraction.
Ordinarily, he'd keep his shit to himself, but maybe getting it the hell out of his head might help.
"Don't tell Bayley or Tyler any of this," he says, holding up a hand. "I'm serious. Not that Tyler's gonna care since it ain't about him, but I don't need Bayley freaking out on me about how 'senpai noticed you.'"
Antonio sits back and grins lopsidedly. "Did he?"
"You better not make me regret telling you this, either," Roman gruffs at him. It's all bark, and they both know it, but a man's gotta keep his dignity somehow.
Of course actually saying this shit aloud turns out to be about as embarrassing as he thought it would, so he doesn't waste words, cutting straight to the chase and getting it out there as fast as he can.
Antonio listens without interruption, fingers steepled under his chin and the weirdest smile on his face. It's almost smug, in a way.
"So anyway," Roman finishes up, "I don't have a clue what I'm gonna do or what the deal with the free coffee is, but yeah. There it is. What do you think?"
"I think it's funny sometimes, the way things work out," is what Antonio tells him. "How lucky for you. Your coffee man is already giving you free gifts."
"What's funny is I don't even know his damn name," Roman admits. "I've just been calling him Coffee Wizard in my head."
Antonio laughs warmly at that. "You should tell him that. It would make a good chatty line. 'Excuse me, but is your name Coffee Wizard? Because your beans are pure magic.'"
Roman chuckles. "You know, I seriously do just want to know where he gets his-"
"Grinds, yes. Yes, yes, yes. This you've said a thousand times. So ask him where he gets them, and then ask him what he likes to drink besides coffee. Don't overthink it."
"So you think I should."
"I think that my life would have been much more miserable if I hadn't taken a chance and asked Natalia out for a drink. I think I always would have wondered 'what if I had'. I would've regretted it. Would you? If you didn't take a chance, and you came in one day to see someone there making him happy, would you regret it?"
Times like this are why Roman likes coming to Antonio for advice. He's got a way of looking at things from a totally unexpected perspective. It's what makes him a hell of an architect, too.
All Roman has to do is think of all the times he's been annoyed seeing someone else try to talk to Coffee Wizard to know the answer is, "I think I would."
"Then there's your answer." Antonio picks up his cup. "And if getting you laid means we get a discount on our coffee, so much the better."
And, really, there's nothing to say to that.
Roman heads into Ambrosia Tuesday morning fighting off a case of nerves.
He'd spent a restless night trying to come up with a way to even start a conversation, before eventually giving up and deciding to wing it.
Before he got all messed up over Seth Rollins, Roman never had problems talking to guys.
He can do this.
But of course the shop is busy when Roman makes it in, with four people ahead of him in line and another three behind him by the time he makes it up to the front counter.
It's Finn up working register today, up there in his flour-dusted apron and smiling shyly at a couple of twentysomethings who're flirting pretty outrageously with him, declaring their undying love for his croissants and filled pastries. When one of them leans over and says, loudly, that Finn must really love filling pastries, Finn's face turns almost as red as his tee shirt, his fingers fumbling on over the register.
Over in his usual spot in the back corner, Coffee Wizard rolls his eyes.
Finn survives the twentysomethings, and the next couple of customers, one of whom asks him about his accent and chatters away about her trip to Dublin years ago, and has he ever been? Does he know the Brennan family from Cork? Fortunately, she doesn't hang around once she's got her coffee.
When it's Roman's turn, Finn looks relieved to see him. "An easy one, finally. Heya, Roman."
"Hey, man," Roman says, leaning against the pastry case as usual. "You got recruited, huh?"
"It was dead quiet when Corey left," Finn nods, fingers hovering over the register, "and two minutes later, it went nuts again. Usual, yeah?"
Out of the corner of his eyes, Roman sees Coffee Wizard on his way over, so he holds off answering.
Coffee Wizard looks tired, dark circles under his eyes and extra slump in his slouch. Even baseball cap looks like it's wilting. But he nods at Roman and nudges Finn's elbow. "Don't charge him, Finn. This one's on the house."
"Well, hey, in that case," Roman says lightly, "I'll take the whole menu, and all your pastries. Good morning, by the way."
"Mornin'," Coffee Wizard says. "And in that case, Finn, charge his ass triple for everything. We can pay off your car loan tonight."
"That'll be six thousand, then," Finn tells Roman, and adds dryly to Coffee Wizard, "Thanks, boss. You're the best."
"'Course I am," Coffee Wizard says on his way back to get Roman's order. "I'm the best at everything."
Roman moves off to one side so the college kid behind him can put his order in. He really wants to ask about why the free coffee, but with so many people around, he can't bring himself too. Instead, he smirks and says, "Including technology"
Coffee Wizard shoots him a wry look over one shoulder. "I'm amazing at technology, thank you very much. Especially cash registers. Shut the hell up over there," he adds when Finn snorts at the register. "Nobody asked you."
"Not a word, boss," Finn says, head down dutifully over the touchscreen.
With that, Coffee Wizard gets to work filling Roman's order, more bounce in his step than there had been two minutes ago. Since Roman's standing over by the napkins and straws instead of in his usual spot by the pastry case, the view's nowhere near as good, but he smiles to himself anyway at the thought that he's the one who put the extra bounce there.
He kind of wants to puff up his chest and say something like, "I did that," to all the customers waiting in line. "See that? That was me."
Which is stupid as hell, but still.
Maybe.
This time when Coffee Wizard passes the drink carrier over the counter, he says, "Here you go, Always Fine."
Roman tries not to smile, but fails miserably. "Thanks a lot, The Best."
Coffee Wizard lifts his chin and deadpans, "The Best At Everything. C'mon. You gotta use my full name."
"My bad, my bad," Roman laughs. He switches the drink carrier from his right hand to his left. "Have a good day, man."
"See you tomorrow."
As he makes his way out of the shop, Roman notices there's a new bounce in his step, too.
There's no note on the bottom of his cup today, but Coffee Wizard had labeled it BIG DOG.
Roman sits at his desk smiling stupidly at it for almost ten minutes.
When Bayley spots it, her eyes light up, and she sing-songs, "Senpai nooooticed you. BIG DOG."
For once, he doesn't mind.
A/N: Don't know about this one yet. It's weird, but it's kinda fun. We'll see where it goes. Thanks for reading.
