AUTHORS NOTE: Hey, guys! This is just a collection of small, random, often funny fics I wrote a whole ago. I'm not really in the APH fandom any more, and I very seldom write for APH, so I figured I'd dump all my old fics en masse. I'll be finishing a few and editing them, but I won't be posting any full fics, just my drabbles and one shots. Here's a collection of stories that I'll be updating as I find more of them. I hope you enjoy them! I've kind of graduated to the Supernatural fandom now. If you'd like to hit me up and talk about anything, you can find me at .com. These stories are short, and I wrote them over a year ago, so they aren't my best work. Some are beta'd, some art, and they're mostly lighthearted. Enjoy!


Arthur hated his job.

He was fairly certain that there were no benefits to his job, aside from money. Which he could get doing any other job. The customers were rude, pushy and demanding, his boss was an idiot, and he was pretty sure that his coworker was telling customers that they were sleeping together. The music was bad, the coffee horrible, and Arthur had had to take his ear piercings out when he was hired.

So, all in all, he really didn't care if he was fired. The money really wasn't that important to him.

He tried to ignore Felicity, who was batting her long eyelashes at one of the customers. He would have though it inappropriate conduct for an employee if it wasn't for the fact that the customer was an old blind woman, and Arthur was fairly certain it was a ploy to make him jealous or something. Felicity wasn't exactly the brightest crayon in the box, and she kept shifting her eyes over to him, as if waiting for him to look at her. Arthur refused. She was too loud, too annoying, too blonde, and too goody-two-shoes for him. And she couldn't make a decent cup of tea to save her life. That was probably one of the greatest drawbacks of being a Starbucks employee.

Felicity whipped her head around, ponytail bouncing beneath her visor, and rattled off an order in her annoying voice. Arthur didn't understand why she always talked to customers and he was stuck making coffee, but he didn't care as much. Before Feliks had been fired, Arthur would be stuck making coffees with Felicity, who rattled off the most mundane and vapid trash constantly. Still, it was annoying to see her leaning over the countertop the entire shift, drumming her fingers against her chin while Arthur ran back and forth, making coffees and getting orders for the drive through window.

Arthur made coffee irritably, watching Felicity out of the corner of his eye. He wasn't exactly watching her - rather, he was watching the customers that stood in front of her, hoping for some kind of saving grace - Gilbert and Elizaveta, ordering their usual caramel macchiato (for Gilbert) and straight black coffee (for Elizaveta - and praying that "his favorite customer" didn't show up.

Arthur's "favorite customer" frequented the little café quite often, sometimes stopping by twice a day. He was the only person who wasn't charmed by Felicity's giggling, smiling charade. There were three reasons. The first reason was that Felicity turned up the charm to an obnoxious level when this particular customer came, instantly forgetting about her pursuit of Arthur, and the customer didn't seem to find her gooey eyes all that attractive. The second reason was that he was a complete idiot, and didn't seem to realize that she was flirting with him. The third and final reason was that he was too busy trying to talk to Arthur than bother with the cute, buxom blonde in front of him.

His name was Alfred Jones, and he was annoying.

Whenever Alfred came around, Arthur would immediately try to run to the bathroom or the back of the little kitchen. He was usually in a bad mood already; having to talk to the guy who was constantly checking out his ass was even more annoying.

Amazingly, Felicity still hadn't noticed anything, despite the fact that Alfred would, at times, completely ignore every word that came out of her mouth. She probably just figured that he was shy. Or playing hard to get.

She really was an idiot.

There was no Alfred so far, thankfully, but also no Gilbert or Elizaveta. No one to save him from the annoying music and annoying coworkers. Bethany was in the back somewhere, probably texting, like she always was. Arthur hadn't really talked to her all that much, because she was weird. Apparently she was one of Felicity's friends, which was why she got that job, but she stared at Arthur in a completely different manner than Felicity. Arthur had run into the two of them on the way to a concert once. Felicity had looked at him like he was a piece of cake, Bethany like he was the Antichrist. After that, she never really talked to him, though she did occasionally cross herself when he entered the store in the morning. She had nearly had a heart attack when, upon meeting Gilbert and his loud mouth, it was revealed that Arthur had a tattoo on his back. The unnatural way in which her eye had twitched still haunted Arthur's dreams at night.

Felicity's offhanded remark about seeing it was a little bit worse. Even Gilbert had been slightly offended.

It was almost time to leave, Arthur noticed, staring at the clock. He accidentally squirted too much whip cream into the coffee, and had to use a spoon to shovel it out of the cup. The customer, a harried business man, didn't seem to care too much. He was too busy trying to keep his eyes off of the chest of the blonde teenager working the counter. Arthur rolled his eyes.

Only about forty five minutes left. There were only forty five more minutes of annoying customers and shitty music before Arthur was free. He had Mondays and Tuesdays off, so he wouldn't need to be back for a few days. No more Felicity, no more Bethany, no more creepy business men who had statutory rape fantasies…

I threw a wish in the well, don't ask me I'd never tell…

Of course, it wouldn't be a normal day at work if he didn't have to endure some kind of torture first.

There was a loud commotion at the door, but Arthur didn't turn around, too busy making overly sweet coffee and trying to block out the sound. It wasn't until he realized that Felicity was completely silent, neither chatting loudly nor singing badly, that he realized something was wrong. And then, suddenly, he heard another voice along with Carly Rae Jepsen's.

I wasn't looking for this, but now you're in my way…

Alfred.

Dancing into the café.

Arthur legitimately felt like crying.

Alfred was dancing into the store, a plastic spoon held up like a microphone to his mouth. He was dancing, not exactly in the most talented manner, and pointing at Arthur. If Arthur didn't know he was only eighteen and incredibly anti-alcohol (Alfred gave out a LOT of personal information), Arthur would have assumed he was drunk. The fact that he was completely sober just made things even worse.

Your stare was holding,

Ripped jeans, skin was showing,

Hot night, wind was blowing,

Where you think you're going baby?

Arthur's face was on fire. He knew his face wasn't red - he didn't actually blush - but it felt warm enough. He almost covered his face when it got to the chorus. Alfred was almost to the counter.

Hey, I just met you,

He was at the counter, pointing directly at Arthur.

And this is crazy,

But here's my number,

So call me maybe?

Felicity was staring. A lot. She was staring at Arthur as though she had just had her heart broken violently, eyes practically welling up. There was no doubt that she had realized that Alfred was either gay or an idiot, but Arthur could see on her face that she was putting two and two together and getting five, figuring that because a gay guy was hitting on Arthur, he was gay too.

And all the other boys

Just try to chase me

But here's my number,

So call me maybe?

Bethany was edging closer to Felicity, eyes wide as saucers and a bible clutched to her chest. Arthur had too look away, not wanting to see if that twitch thing started up again. He focused instead on making coffee for the man at the drive through, who was now trying to push his head into the window in an attempt to see just what the hell was going on.

You took your time with the call.

I took no time with the fall,

You gave me nothing at all,

But still you're in my way

Alfred was now practically on the counter, leaning forward and making dramatic gestures with his arms. He was very obviously clumsy, so he almost knocked a sugar canister off of the counter. He was making puppy dog faces and singing, loudly and off key, while everyone in the store stared in shock.

It's hard to look right,

At you baaaaaaaaaaaabbbyyyyyyyyyyy,

But here's my number,

At this point, Alfred winked, and opened a bag, letting a million scraps of paper flood onto the counter, most of them with a phone number and then "Alfred ;)". Slowly, ever so slowly, Arthur edged toward the coffee maker.

Before you came into my life,

I missed you so bad,

I missed you so bad,

I missed you so, so bad,

Before you came into my life,

I missed you so bad,

And you should know that,

I missed you so, so bad,

Arthur hated his job. He hated the bad coffee, the idiot coworkers, the insane customers. He hated the bad music, and the smell of coffee, and the gossiping girls, and the business men who checked out teenagers and talked into their bluetooths as they ordered their coffee. He hated the hipsters and he hated the wannabe hipsters.

And so it was without regret that he grabbed the pot of coffee, put on a big smile, reached over the counter, and emptied the entire, steaming pot of coffee directly onto Alfred's shoes.