A/N: Happy birthday, Mella! I hope you are having a glorious day and that this little drabble will help you celebrate!
Summary: Modern coffeeshop-ish AU in which Mr Carson doesn't approve of anything.
They stand in line and he lets his eyes run over the options on the menu hanging over the counter. The noise of people and machinery is making him irritable.
"A tall, nonfat, soy, green tea latte, for Gudrun please."
"A grande, quad, nonfat, one pump, no whip, mocha. My name's Tarquin."
He cannot imagine for the life of him what the hell people will receive when they place an order like this. He remembers vividly a latte was outlandish. Poncy, even.
"We're up!" Anna chirps and she smiles at him. "Have you made your choice, Mr Carson?" she asks, a little impatient - the barista is standing at the ready to take their order with a Sharpie in hand.
"I just want a cup of tea." He grumps.
"Big or small?" Anna asks and he indicated the smallest cup on the counter - finding it large enough to drown a kitten in.
"A tall English breakfast tea…" Anna says to the man and he takes a paper cup and scribbles.
"Name?"
"What do you need my name for?" He almost bellows, he can feel his eyebrows knitting together and a dull headache is starting right behind them.
"They need to know so they can call you when they've finished making it." She has put her hand on his sleeve and he looks into the bluest eyes he knows. He nods.
"Mr Carson." He says and tries to ignore the boy biting his lip to avoid breaking into laughter.
"And you, Mrs Hughes?" Anna tries to speed up their process.
"I'll just have a tall caramel macchiato."
"Are you sure?"
"Very sure."
God, her smile is beautiful, he thinks as he watches her from behind the big espresso machine. Everything about her is gorgeous: her eyes, her rosy cheeks, the way her figure curves in all the right places. The way her hips sway when she walks, the way her R's coming rolling out of her mouth like waves crashing on a beach. He shakes his head to get rid of these thoughts that have no place in an overpriced coffeehouse.
He hears Anna speak to the smirking boy. "Alright. A tall caramel macchiato for Elsie and for me a strawberries and cream frappucino with a shot of caramel, two shots of toffee and two scoops of chocolate chips and whip. My name's Anna."
He could have known she'd be one of those girls, but he is not happy about it; they've taken Anna under their wings and led her by example to be frugal and sensible. Her drink does not sound sensible at all. The cashier rings up the order and asks for an idiotic amount of money that could have bought them a small yacht. He is shocked when he sees Mrs Hughes pull out her wallet and pay.
"You can't do that!" he says and startles both women with his vehemence.
"It's Anna's birthday, Mr Carson."
"That is not the point." he replies and shoots Anna a look. "And you! What the hell is a caramel macchiato?"
"A tea for Mr Carson, a tall caramel macchiato for Elsie and a blended frap for Anna!"
"Come." Anna says as the pick up their drinks and she leads them out of the establishment, into the bustling city. The traffic is loud, the air filled with the stench of exhaust fumes and garbage not yet being collected. His hand is scalding. He is wondering why Mrs Hughes isn't in pain when he sees there's a little cardboard thing around her paper cup. Anna's drink looks like something from a fairytale, with it's pale pink at the bottom and black flecks drifting in it.
He watches the two women interact, speak of the party they'll be having tonight (he has organised it with Mrs Hughes, everything is well in hand, he will surprise Anna (and Mrs Hughes) with good champagne). He had set his alarm an hour early to polish the glasses without being noticed. They stand by the crossing, waiting for the light to change when a cyclist almost runs into Mrs Hughes and he drops his tea, pulling her back.
The cyclist swears at them and Mrs Hughes turns in his arms. She is warm and he can feel her chest move rapidly with the shock of being almost hit.
"Are you alright, Mrs Hughes?" Anna asks, taking the cup of coffee from the Housekeeper.
"Yes. Yes, I think so. Just a bit startled."
He hasn't let her go yet and she is smiling at him, so bright it almost dazzles him, her hand is on his arm and squeezes gently. "Thank you, Mr Carson."
He clears his throat, unable to speak.
"Mr Carson! Your cup of tea!" Anna points at the mess by their feet. A steady stream of dark brown liquid is making its way to the gutter, the paper cup and plastic lid already being trampled on by passers-by.
"You can have mine." Mrs Hughes says and hands him the cup. "For saving my life."
"It wasn't as bad as all that, Mrs Hughes." He declines, but the cup is being thrust into his hand and he feels obliged to take a sip.
There's foam first and then hot milky coffee, only slightly bitter, with the unmistakable flavour of caramel.
He smiles now.
"You know, this is not half bad!"