this has been on AO3 for a few days now, finally got around to posting it here, too. Super ridic coffee shop AU from a tumblr prompt. :-P

It's the kind of exhaustion that screams for caffeine before you even open your eyes in the morning.

The kind of exhaustion that makes you wonder why you ever took that stupid internship at the politician's office (her policies are good but she's such a hardass, especially to her interns), except that you want to help people and give back to your city but fuck that if it means crawling through six miles of shit just to get to a starting point.

You know who else helps people? Kindergarten teachers. Why didn't I chose that track of study instead of barely passing PoliSci and getting an internship in Haruna's campaign thanks to the totally BS 'good word' of my father's journalist boss?

So anyway, I only go into the coffee shop out of a desperate need for caffeine. Caffeine but not coffee - gross. I never liked coffee's insidious bitterness that snuck through even the most sugared up concoction out there. But caffeine? Yeah, that I like.

"Yes, of course, standard layout, that's what she wants," I realize I'm next in line at the counter, while still trying to coach our newest intern into not royally fucking up the ad campaign, and digging through my purse for my wallet and scanning the menu for something that wasn't coffee but still caffeinated. "No, no, don't do anything until I get there. I can't-"

"Order please?"

"Um, one tall chai extra shot of vanilla, whipped cream, thanks," I read off the menu and hand him my credit card.

"Name?"

"So the email went out with the old campaign posters," Naru is saying in my ear, "but we were up until all hours last night working on the new one and the place won't-"

"Name?" the cashier says again, maybe with just a little too much edge to his voice because it's not like I'm actually trying to be rude.

Seriously? I'm probably the only one getting a non-coffee drink, I'll know which 'extra-vanilla chai with whipped' is me, thanks. I know it's horrible of me but I roll my eyes and point to my phone and yes, god, even I hate myself right now but c'mon.

Haruna is a dragon boss and I refuse to come in this morning to a public chew-out and my subsequent firing from her stupid campaign for not fixing the problem with the posters because I was too busy chatting up the cute barista - who by this point finally scribbles something on my cup and moves onto the customer behind me.

"Whatever you do, wait until I get there," I tell Naru and hang up, and dig for the business card of the copy place to see if I can put out this fire before it spreads.

"Um… vanilla chai? for…" the girl makes a strange face and I just take the cup from her with a quick nod, already waiting for the stupid copy place to answer my call.

The sharpie scrawl on the cup makes my mouth drop open and I send a glare right to the cashier, who happens to look at me, amusement in his bright blue eyes. He smirks at me, gesturing upwards with his eyebrows at my hairstyle before going back to giving change to the person in front of him.

Chai, Van., x-tra whip: Odango atama.

Is he serious with this?

I don't care how really cute he is, (because he's really fucking cute ok), because I'm not in the mood for anything that isn't magically fixing this whole campaign poster disaster, so I just stick out my tongue in a vision of maturity and poise, and march out of the coffee shop.

I mean, a vision of maturity and poise who then proceeds to spill half the contents of her purse all over the sidewalk and struggle to pick it all up while balancing her hot beverage cup in one hand and her cell phone between her face and her shoulder, all while weaving through the most obnoxious automated answering system of all time.

I must be a masochist because I can't stop myself from looking through the windows to see if anyone saw, and sure enough the dark-haired cashier takes time out of his busy morning rush to give me a raised eyebrow and a smug half smile.

I hate him and his stupid gorgeous eyes and I really hate that my chai was really goddamn delicious - because I guess that means I have to go back tomorrow.

So the next day I'm completely determined to make it through the line unscathed, give my name, get my chai, head on my way like it's no big deal. I certainly refuse to become the obnoxious cell-phone customer.

But of course my phone rings right as I'm coming up in line and it's Haruna herself and I have to answer it. And it's that same dark-haired barista again, and his lips are already pulling into a smirk.

Ugh, ugh, why.

So here I am, my boss in one ear, giving my drink order in a hiss with my hand over the phone's microphone.

"Name?"

But I just shrug in annoyance, before going back to assuring my boss that yes, I am planning on coming in and yes, I did bring the demographics presentation with me on a flash drive.

He sighs and shakes his head like he wants to tsk-tsk at me. "Odango atama it is then," he hands the cup over and takes my credit card, with that obnoxious half-smile right into my death glare.

To make matters worse, I stumble over someone's bag as I walk to pick up my drink and almost go flying. Again.

I send a quick glance to the register and although he's already counting someone else's change, the twist of his lips makes it obvious he saw everything.

Oh my god, chai is not worth this aggravation.

But I go back to the coffee shop because of freaking course I do.

The next time I'm there, someone else is taking the drink order so my name gets done correctly. My usual tormentor is stocking products in the back so I don't talk to him.

But I do notice his nametag says "Mamoru", and for some reason I end up committing it to memory. And I even find myself wondering later that night if it lends itself to any semi-insulting nicknames I could write on coffee cups.

I find myself thinking of him a lot, which is super disconcerting, until I remember that he is very attractive, and this campaign has made me pretty much a shut-in (my friends are always complaining they never see me anymore) so it's not like I see cute boys all the time, especially not that cute. So I give myself permission to daydream a little, maybe about someone with Mamoru's face and body but an actual not-horrible personality.

Then I come in one morning and the cashier is a handsome blond guy I think I've seen there before. I give my name and get my chai in an easy, efficient manner and don't see Mamoru at all. It's a nice change, at least that's what I tell myself.

When I find myself stopping by the next afternoon, Mamoru is back at work, and the same blond from the other morning is beside the register, putting on his apron.

"I got this, Motoki," he says when I walk in, and I notice he reties his apron quickly as he walks up to the register. "Vanilla chai, extra whip?"

"Good memory."

"I'm a man of many talents," he picks up an empty cup and flips it up a little, and lifts the marker.

"Name?"

I make a show of looking around the nearly empty seating area, the lack of people in line behind me. "It's literally just me here."

He raises his eyebrows and frowns. "Uncooperative," he mutters, as the sharpie files across the cup as if he's writing my final grade.

Because it's not busy, he makes my chai and hands me the cup directly. I tell myself that my fingers brushing along his as I take the cup could totally be accidental. But he does have super gorgeous hands. Ugh, what a jerk.

"Odango atama: the nameless," I read off the cup. "Clever."

"You better get going, Mamoru, or you'll be late to class," the other man, Motoki, says.

I feel the need to say something witty and my mind comes up completely blank. "A class on what? Remedial social skills?" I say, in a saccharine voice. Shit, that wasn't even funny. But Mamoru laughs.

"Close," he says, taking off his apron and walking around the counter. "Biochem."

"Mamoru's pre-med," Motoki says, saddling up the cash as a new customer enters the store.

Interesting. I never really thought of him outside of career barista'ing. I mean, besides daydreaming every so often about what it'd be like to kiss that smirk off his face (in my daydreams, I'm super bold and searing hot, like a blonde Megan Fox. And Mamoru is, well, he's the same only with less obnoxiousness clouding his hotness).

Anyway, it was kind of cool to know something more personal about him - although I wasn't sure why.

"Guess we can't all be poorly compensated interns for a local politician," I say, lifting my chai up to him in a mock-toast.

"So, you interested in a career in politics, then?" Mamoru is folding his apron and putting it up in a cubby.

I take a deep breath and shrug a little. "Yeah, I mean, I like local government as a means to positive change... but then the nitty-gritty of the national political debates can bore me sometimes. When it isn't making me angry."

Mamoru nods and opens his mouth when Motoki clears his throat and looks pointedly at the clock. "Dude. Biochem."

He smiles at me as he leaves, "See you later, Odango atama."

The next time I see him it's morning rush and he's already punching my usual into the register when I make it to the front of the line.

"The name's Usagi," I say, but it's just a few seconds too late, he's already scrawling a novel on the side of the cup and hands it off to his coworker.

Mamoru shrugs with exaggerated helplessness. "Nothing I can do, I already passed it along."

I can't help sighing. Really?

His voice is directed over me, to the man standing behind me. "What can I get started for you, sir?"

That's how I ended up with a chai latte with a vanilla shot and extra whipped cream for "Atama, Odango, intern."

"He's flirting with you," Naru says when I show her, in exasperation, how the man apparently can be top of his class pre-med but can't retain a simple three syllable name.

"He's not flirting, Naru," I roll my eyes, grab a file folder of voter phone numbers to start the campaign calls, "he just teases me all the time. For, like, stupid reasons in kind of cute ways."

"See, now I'm wondering if you understand the definition of 'flirting'," Naru answers, before she grabs a folder herself and puts on a headset.

I don't have to be at work until later on days after late nights and big events, so that's how I found myself getting my usual vanilla chai (extra, extra whip, since I didn't have breakfast) closer to lunchtime after yesterday's press conference.

It's a girl I don't recognize who makes my drink but I am surprised to see Mamoru at one of the tables in the dining area, pouring over a textbook.

I'm debating whether or not to say hi (no just kidding, I decide right away not to bother with him, but for some reason I still stand there looking at him like an idiot. Help me.), when Mamoru says, without looking up, "Hey, vanilla chai latte extra whip," he turned a page, and finally looked up. "No phone today?"

I make a face and sit down across from him because at this point he deserves all the crap I can dish out. Only, I can't think of anything witty and scathing enough so I just frown at his book. "Biochem?"

He shakes his head, "Infectious diseases."

"Fun." I take a sip of my tea.

Mamoru looks up and smiles. "Flesh eating bacteria can't be any more disturbing than city politics."

I can't help but laugh. "Okay, point." I cross my arms on the table and rest my head on them. "What type of doctor do you want to be?"

"I think I'd like to be a pediatrician," he says, and I'm super angry because what kind of heart-melty answer is that? "But I won't know for sure until after medical school, when I get to try different fields."

It's the most we've ever said to each other and I'm astonished he hasn't been a smirky asshole even once (well, barring that phone barb when he first saw me).

"Well, I guess I should let you get back to studying...?" I mean, I don't want to jeopardize our friendly-small-talk record. Mamoru looks up and gives a half-smile.

"Eh, I could use a break. Tell me about your job."

We actually chat for a while, until my phone rings (Mamoru smirks at that, jerk) and it's Naru wondering where the hell I am. I guess I was pushing the "allowed to be late" envelope a little by that point.

"Well, I'm off the save the world, one tax payer at a time," I say, standing. "Enjoy your gross germ book."

"Have a good day, Odango atama. Don't trip over anything today."

Oh well. It was fun while it lasted I guess.

The morning after our talk, I came into the coffee shop (I mean, of course I do. I seriously have not been spending money on anything fun because all my extra cash is going into vanilla lattes. The part of me that realizes that I'm not going there for the chai also acknowledges how utterly pathetic that is, and so I tend to ignore it).

"And one vanilla chai and extra whip cream," he confirms, with a crooked grin. He writes on the cup with a flourish. "Usagi."

It's morning rush, and I'm actually running quite late so it's not until I'm out the door I realize he still didn't write my name on the cup.

Instead, it says "Usa-ko."

Un-fucking-believable.