Grounded
Chapter 1: Introductions
by Lynn Saunders
The coffee house is dark and warm despite the frigid air outside. The lingering sweet smell of fresh milk and steam layers bright over the deeper notes of ground beans, and John sighs, the old hardwood creaking as he moves to hang his coat. He takes a deep breath and ties on a fresh apron.
Thomas bangs in behind him, muffling curses at the cold and the hour, and John simply shakes his head as he goes about setting the bar stools down from the counters. He moves to the windows, adjusting the blinds and flipping the open sign. Outside, the sun is breaking the horizon, and soon the regulars will start streaming in before work. He washes up, drying his hands on the towel at his hip and straightening his tie, trying not to smile as he thinks of the one person in particular that he always hopes to see.
He's been here three months now, and she comes in most days, the petite blonde who tips him so well. They share brief conversations over the counter until she moves out of the way of the next in line. She has golden hair, elfin eyes, and a warm smile that she seems to flash conspiratorily for his benefit. Maybe he imagines that last part, though. Maybe she's only being kind.
Lately these cold winter mornings have seen her chilled to the bone from the walk despite her heavy coat and scarf, and she sighs happily when he settles a warm drink into her hands. He's taken to writing her name on her cup as soon as he sees her coming. Anna. She should be here any minute. As if on cue, the front door jangles, and he moves to the counter with a smile. It's not her, though. He tries not to look disappointed.
After the first few customers filter in, a calm usually precedes the morning rush, and today is no different. John shines the counters while William sips his morning tea. The lad doesn't argue with opening the shop an hour early to meet the delivery truck, so John doesn't begrudge him an extra break. He's a hard worker, but beyond that, he seems loyal and honest.
"What are your plans for the weekend, Mr. Bates?"
John sighs. "Not much, I'm afraid."
Thomas moves in from the store room, interrupting. "Grocery shopping with your Mum doesn't really count as a big night out, after all."
"I should think I would like it very much if mine were still alive," William retorts. The lad has only recently lost his mother.
John shoots a warning glare across the bar as Thomas smirks, and the bells on the front door chime once more. The morning rush is on. By eight o'clock, he's four orders deep, and the little shop is bustling with activity. He's given up all hope of seeing her, when suddenly she's pushing through the door. He moves to the counter, and William glances between them curiously before making himself useful elsewhere.
"Had you given up on me?" she asks, smiling.
"Never." He's not seen her in casual clothing before, and he tries not to stare at the way the rich blue of her sweater brings out her eyes. "The usual?"
She nods and moves to settle into a chair by the window. This is new. She's never stayed before. He hesitates only a moment before adding a bit of fresh gingerbread to her order and delivering it to her table in person. When she raises her eyebrows, he tells her it's on the house.
She looks genuinely touched. "Thank you," she says. "You know, you're always so kind to me, and I don't even know your-"
She's cut off by the crash of dishes against the floor and Thomas' voice carrying from the back, "Watch where you're going, you clumsy clodhopper!" Anna smiles sympathetically up at him as he makes his apologies and bustles off to deal with the commotion. By the time he returns, she's gone. In her place is his tip and a little note, jotted on the back of her folded receipt. I never got your name.
He tucks the scrap of paper into his dress shirt pocket with a smile.
She's rounding the corner in the market aisle, mentally reviewing the contents of her small pantry, when she runs headlong into a rather large gentleman. The man takes an uneven step backward, and she drops the few groceries she's carrying, reflexively reaching out to steady him with both hands, holding fast to his forearms. "Oh, I am so sorry!" She looks up into his eyes, and her heart skips a beat.
She'd known he was a tall drink of water, but standing this close to him emphasizes their height difference in a way that she's never before considered. She returns his smile, then releases her grip on him quickly, fearing her touch has lingered a bit too long.
"Anna?" The lines around his eyes deepen, and he smiles down at her. He gives an embarrassed chuckle, shaking his head slightly as if he worries she won't be able to place him. "I'm-"
"The barista on High Street." She's had a crush on him for months.
He gives a lopsided grin. "John Bates," he says. His hand is large and warm, and he shakes hers firmly.
"I'm Anna Smith."
"It's nice to finally meet you properly." He stoops to retrieve her two bags of whole bean special dark roast from the floor.
At his quizzical look, she gives an exasperated little sigh, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I have quite the caffeine problem, I'm afraid."
He laughs, and they smile shyly at one another for a moment. He clears his throat. "Well, Miss Smith, I hope you have a good evening."
"You too, Mr. Bates," she nods. Neither of them turns away.
Suddenly a small, grey-haired woman appears beside him. "Oh, Johnny, there you are." The older woman turns her attention to Anna. "I'm afraid my boy's long legs carry him much too fast for me," she says, leaning in as if she's confiding in an old friend. His mother's eyes hold the same mischievous twinkle that Anna has admired so often from the coffee line. Anna likes her immediately.
The older woman looks back and forth between them expectantly, and he runs a hand awkwardly through his hair as he makes introductions. "Anna is a regular at the store, Mum."
His mother's eyes are friendly, her manner genuine. "Oh, lovely," she says. "I'm more of a tea drinker myself, but the shop is so nice."
"The best," Anna replies, and the creases around his eyes deepen.
Mrs. Bates pats her son's arm. "They've got wonderful sweets, too."
Anna smiles, thinking of the gingerbread, and she wonders if she sees something shift in his expression too, or whether it's her imagination. It's the question that warms her all the way home.
* Beta by terriejane and giginutshell.
* This is my first foray into modern day AU. This story is based off of a prompt from awesomegreentie. You have her to thank for this.