Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters represented here, they belong to Bioware.
Chapter 1: Routines
It's 6:00am.
After working through the night, he's exhausted to say the least, and what he very much should do is go home to his very nice warm bed; instead, he finds himself standing in front of the coffee shop too far from home. He'll blame it on old habits, he's been coming here for about the past year and to anyone who frequents this establishment he's what they would call a 'regular', but unlike them his reason for coming back isn't because the coffee is exceptionally good.
He pushes the door instantly greeted by the smell of freshly-brewed coffee and the sounds of blenders and espresso machines churning out drinks by the dozens, the gust of wind blowing his hair into further disarray and it's something Anders never seems to get used to. It's busier today then it was yesterday, he thinks as he joins the rest of corporate America (piling in for their quick fix before being stuffed like sardines), and he's pretty sure the barista scattering behind the counter has taken notice with that scowl permeating her features.
Her face lights up as he approaches the counter. "Hey Anders!"
He waves. "Isabela."
She perks her eyebrows, "The usual?" He nods and hands her the money.
Isabela has been here for about as long as he's been coming, if not longer. At first, she'd been oddly plain, conservative even; but after her divorce she's everything but—tops barely covering her, the same in regards to her various choices of skirts and shorts. The only thing she's managed not to change is that bandana. They argued once on the specifics of the color—he teal, she aqua; He learned pretty quickly after that to choose his battles carefully, he's still not entirely sure whether her threat to feed him certain parts of his anatomy had been a joke. If anything though, he likes Isabela… likes to think that they've become somewhat of friends, at least he's pretty sure she likes him far more than others.
Two minutes later she returns with his drink in hand, leaning forward as she sets it between them, and he beckons himself to look up at her eyes—they're a beautiful shade of brown.
"Like my new piercing?" she asks, twirling the stud between her fingers. It's housed on the underside of her lip, the gold twinkling under the fluorescent lighting, it deters from the plain Jane she used to be. "I was thinking of getting my tongue next… Fenny has a thing for them."
"You look like a pirate," he teases, and she scoffs telling him he looks like a hobo.
He laughs lightly before turning to take his usual seat between the counter and the shelf of various coffee and kitsch products, and considering since most people came here only as part of their morning routine the seat is usually always empty. Today is no different. He pulls his cell from his scrub pocket as he takes a seat, placing it and his coffee on the table in front, and watches from a distance as life seamlessly passes him by; taking sips from the coffee that's always too hot for him, leaving that unexplainably weird texture in his mouth, but always managing to smooth the roughness with it's sweetness. Something he surely welcomes after last night.
It had been exceptionally busy at the free clinic he sometimes volunteered his services to, granted it always was this time of year. The increase bouts of influenza cases doesn't help either, and for all the community teaches on prevention it doesn't mitigate the amount of people asking for medication, for which there is none. All he can do is offer them home remedies and his sympathies before sending them on their way.
His phone rattles against the table. It's likely from Karl, the only other person besides himself that knew of his habits. He slides his phone within sight.
Go Home Anders!
He glances at the time. 6:15am. He will.
Eventually.
Like clockwork, she strolls in, orders her coffee and seats herself by the window. Usually she stays anywhere between five to fifteen minutes. He knows this because just like him, she's been coming here most every day. He doesn't know anything about her, other than her appearance. Black short hair. Piercing blue eyes. Always wearing some type of pant suit. Today is gray with an oversized black pea coat.
Anders would like to think she comes for the same reason as he and not for the exceptional coffee that could be found at every other corner on every other block, but he knows different. Isabela pulls a seat across from her and they share a few minutes before the next wave of customers calls her back behind the counter, and the other whatever mediocrities life had to offer. They share their quick goodbyes, and Anders has to hide the smirk forming behind his cup.
Sometimes, it was useless for these thoughts that meandered within his mind. That the various shy glances and small smiles she'd thrown his way the past year (although worth the small amount of sleep lost) had any real substance. He figures he's being far too optimistic, hopelessly romantic according to Varric. Borderline creepy? The thought had occurred. But really was it too much to hope for a reprieve from this mundane existence? That salvation from the monotony of working double shifts between the hospital and the clinic, were in pretty blue eyes and a sly smile.
No. What he wants, more than anything, is to think that between now and tomorrow he'll gain enough courage to walk over there and introduce himself. He won't. He knows, because he's been hurt before, and there's nothing like a broken heart to cause one to lose any ideation of hope.
He pushes the button, the time 6:35am illuminating on his phone. He sighs. He's got another shift at the hospital in less than six hours. Long overdue, he gets up from his chair, throws his cup in the trash, the same smirk threatening his features as he heads out into the cold, windy day.
For now, at least, he's content in knowing her name.
Hawke.
A/N: Hello all! Let me tell how completely and absolutely enthralled I am with Modern AU Anders/fHawke, so much so, that I spent several days writing roughly 8 different (but connected) one shots on the subject. So I decided to post one hopefully at least once a week, depending on how the editing goes. I hope you all enjoyed this one, and I'd appreciate any constructive criticism you have to offer.
Also, I'd like to give credit where due. The concept of this one comes from one of my favorite shows Once upon a time, in which snow white's and prince charming's character purposely meet at a diner at 6:15am before work. So yeah, not completely original. And I'm pretty sure the idea of Isabela being a barista has popped up in other works of fiction; so if you're one of those people.. thank you!