A/N: I don't own Yuri on Ice, because I'm not Kubo-sensei. I hope you liked chapter one–here, finally, is chapter two. Thank you to francescaaa and midnightsky0612 for reviewing. Please enjoy!
Chapter Two: Double Caramel Cappuccino
"How about first I teach you how to make our favorite drink?"
Of course my first shift would be with Viktor, Yuuri thought to himself, tying the black apron around his waist. It's not like I'm nervous enough to be starting a new job without the fact that my senpai is also the guy I'm obsessing over.
After Ayuna had offered him the coffee shop job the previous day, she had gotten right down to business immediately, determining with his schedule it would be best if he worked on the daytime shift.
"Besides," she had added, "Phitchit only works day shifts, and Viktor works them most of the time too, so it would be best to get you on shift with your mentors."
"Yay!" Phitchit had exclaimed, "Yuuri's going to be working with us!" Viktor had shot Yuuri one of his sunlight smiles and Yuuri's heart had skipped a beat, and that was when it had finally sunk in. This was real. He was really going to be working alongside the man he loved. He could hardly wait, filled with a heady, bubbling excitement right up until the moment Ayuna said, "Why don't you start working tomorrow? Viktor's working the day shift, so he can teach you everything you need to know."
Then his anxiety stretched out and swallowed him whole, drowning him in panic. He couldn't react even when Viktor smiling said, "We'll take care of you, Katsudon!" Beads of sweat started to form on his temples as he imagined all that could go wrong. He might scald someone by spilling hot coffee, accidentally give a double espresso to the cheery teenage girl just looking for a colorful frappuccino, mix hazelnut syrup into a drink that was supposed to contain peppermint. There were just too many ways he could embarrass himself in front of the silver-haired lead barista. And then… well, he'd just have to die.
"Yuuri?" Viktor asked, propelling him back to the present moment. He snapped out of his reverie, bringing his remembered nerves back with him. Viktor's soft blue eyes were looking down at him gently, concern blossoming beautifully in them. Yuuri felt those eyes piercing to the depths of his soul, swallowing him up. He gazed back, happy to be drowning in the endless pools of their allure.
"Yuuri?" Viktor repeated, confusion clouding the aquamarine shine of his eyes and Yuuri realized with a start he had been staring far longer than any normal person would. "Double caramel cappuccino?"
"Ah, yes," he replied, tearing his eyes away from Viktor's and turning to fix them furiously onto the espresso machine before him.
All shining silver steel with black matte buttons and handles; there was a rack of tiny white espresso shot mugs mounted above it and a pair of dull silver mixing glass resting in the sink beside it. It wasn't the first espresso machine he'd ever encountered, but it was a league above anything he'd seen before–trust Ryuji to have only the best. It was wildly complex-looking, but in that moment a complex distraction was exactly what Yuuri needed, and he gladly took advantage of the time required to thoroughly inspect the machine before him to give himself a stern internal lecture about staying calm in the face of attractive silver-haired Russian baristas. He could do this, he told himself–he just needed to focus. He picked up one of the silver mixing glasses nervously and tried to block out the jittery feeling Viktor's proximity was giving him.
"Have you ever made a cappuccino before?" Viktor asked, mistaking his nerves for uncertainty.
"Yes, I just don't know where everything is," Yuuri told him. If he hadn't felt so anxious, he would have chuckled. He'd made a cappuccino before, that was for sure–he was Ryuji's cousin, after all, and Ryuji had always been completely obsessed with coffee.
"Ah, right!" Viktor replied, nodding. It was as if he had forgotten Yuuri was new, although the Japanese man was at a loss as to how that could possibly be true. Perhaps because he had been in the coffee shop every day before that? But it was always on the other side of the counter. Viktor, breaking through his musings, somewhat confusingly added, "Mind your knees."
"Hmm?" Yuuri asked, stepping back from the counter.
He watched, bemused, as Viktor knelt down beside him. What is he doing? Yuuri wondered, feeling awkward at their relative positions. The silver-haired man, though, lost no time in opening the steel-fronted cabinet in front of him, and Yuuri realized it was in fact a fridge.
"Here, the milk," Viktor said, handing him a carton.
"Ah, right," Yuuri gracelessly echoed the lead barista, obediently taking the milk and pouring the appropriate quantity into the mixing mug before him. He returned the carton to Viktor's waiting hand and soon the Russian had risen to stand beside him once more.
Right, how is this done again? Yuuri asked himself quickly. Can't make a fool of myself after I told him I'd made a cappuccino before, even if it has been a while. He fastened his eyes back on the espresso machine in front of him, hoping he could mentally convince it to give him a refresher course on its secrets. Luckily, it was obliging. Yes, that's right. Steam the milk, he remembered. He lifted the cup so the steaming wand was within it and let the machine work his magic, enjoying the respite from speech. Better to let coffee-making speak for itself, he thought. Something Ryuji always said, and although he had scoffed his cousin off many times before for saying it, he felt it fit this particular moment perfectly.
Soon enough the steaming process was done and he set the cup on the countertop between the sink and the espresso machine, turning back to the machine. Flipping a small espresso shot cup from the top of the rack, the black-haired man eased up the handle of the espresso dispenser, breathing deeply in the scent of freshly-poured coffee. He could hear Viktor's inhale as the silver-haired man did the same as he.
"Here," Viktor murmured at his side, handing him a mug. He took it, forcing himself to concentrate and ignore the beautiful slimness of Viktor's fingers laced around its handle. Taking the small porcelain espresso cup in one hand and the steaming glass in the other, Yuuri poured in the espresso and gently added the steamed milk, watching the swirling of the deep brown espresso and pallid white milk as he did so.
"Okay, I don't know what to do next," he admitted, biting his lip absently.
"Caramel shots," Viktor told him gently, his fingers delicately brushing against Yuuri's as he took hold of the other side of the cup and guided it up towards the flavored syrups. "Two of them." He reached out, depressing the caramel syrup dispenser twice into the cup in their hands.
"Right," Yuuri murmured, his volume having lowered to match the Russian's dulcet tones. "To make it double."
The warmth of Viktor's smile could have made a rose bloom in the dead of winter. He handed Yuuri a silver spoon, the light that shone off it matching his shimmering hair. Yuuri took it and stirred the cappuccino, knowing it was the final step.
"Please tell me this isn't happening," a sardonic, Russian-accented voice broke through the hazy web they'd been inadvertently weaving around themselves. Brown and blue eyes looked simultaneously up, coming to rest on the grumpy face of Yuri Plisetsky, who was watching them with the critical and derisive expression he seemed to wear as his everyday look. His eyes scanned Yuuri, noting the barista uniform the Japanese man now wore. Seeing it, his scowl only deepened. "I already have to watch you come in everyday and moon over Vitya while he neglects his work and makes me brew double the coffee to cover for him, don't tell me you work here now."
"Yes?" Yuuri ventured nervously. Right, he thought, Viktor isn't the only one I'm working my first shift with. There's also this guy. Whose name, he realized, he couldn't remember. His eyes scanned Yuri's lapel looking for a nametag, but of course the hostile blond had omitted to wear any badge of identification. "I'm Yuuri, nice to meet you…?" He hoped to force Yuri to reintroducing himself so he could save himself from the embarrassment of forgetting the name of someone he saw nearly everyday.
Yuri's bluish-green eyes narrowed, his mouth flattening to an irritatedly straight line. Too late, Yuuri remembered they shared the same name. No doubt the irate Russian detested the similarity–he loathed everything, and a shared name was something even reasonable people sometimes disliked.
"You have got to be kidding me," Yuri remarked scathingly, "I have to work with you and now I even have to share the name as you? What are you, a copycat or something?" His face scrunched up in thought and he added in a mutter, "No, not a cat. I like cats. More like a dog. A copydog."
Offended a second before, Yuuri blinked at the sudden change of pace. This guy wasn't such a threat, he was just a child, thinking up something like "copydog". Only a kid would think of something as ridiculous as that.
Viktor, watching over the one-sided scuffle, smiled benevolently down at his countryman.
"It's going to be too confusing to have two Yuris," he commented. He pondered the problem, then his face lit up as he discovered a solution. Seeing it, Yuuri thought absently it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He could almost swear Viktor's mouth turned heart-shaped when he smiled, but maybe he was being delusional. "I've got it!" He exclaimed. "We'll call you Yurio!" He gestured towards Yuri, making it clear it was Yuri who would receive the nickname.
The blond Russian's face immediately turned darker than the blackest midnight.
"The sound of that makes me sick," Yuri (or Yurio, rather, Yuuri thought) criticized. "Call him Yurio if you so desperately need to nickname someone."
Viktor gave Yurio a smiling look that said he was absolutely not going to be changing the nickname and would forever after be calling the blond teenager by the hated name. Somehow, he managed to get the whole sense into one expression, his blond countryman interpreting his face perfectly. Yurio responded with a more intense version of his default expression, a look that said Screw you, albeit more colorfully and in Russian, and Viktor cheerfully ignored him.
"Screw this," Yurio said (although what he actually said was much cruder and Yuuri only mentally translated it to the less foul version). "We have customers."
"Great!" Viktor replied enthusiastically. "Come on Yuuri, let's have you take your first order!"
At the silver-haired man's words, all of Yuuri's anxiety came rushing back. Here was the moment of truth, and given his track record, he would screw it up. His mind flashed back over a picture catalog of all the culinary-related mistakes he'd made in his life. That time when he'd spilled hot tea over Mari's lap and scalded her, when he'd burned the katsudon the first few times he'd cooked it, desperate not to undercook the chicken. The time he had misunderstood a friend's request for no wasabi for more wasabi and left them crying. Even the time he had foolishly acquiesced to Ryuji's request he make him coffee (Ayuna had warned him never to), only to have the dissatisfactory result be contemptuously poured down the drain.
He said a prayer for his survival and took the requisite few steps to end up behind the register. When he looked up at the customer, it seemed the gods had heard his prayer, for there stood Phitchit, beaming as bright as the sun in his native Thailand.
"Yuuri!" his best friend greeted him warmly. "Happy first day at Kohi A-Katsuki!"
"Phitchit," Yuuri replied numbly, his surprise-frozen heart gushingly melting into relief at the comforting sight of a familiar face. "What can I get you?"
Phitchit grinned wider, if that was possible. "Pumpkin spice latte, of course!" he sang out his favorite drink.
Yuuri's heart softened to his friend; he thanked whatever god reigned over coffee shops his first customer was not only someone who he had known since his childhood, but someone who reliably had ordered the same drink he'd made for the Thai man many times before.
Seeing who had arrived, Viktor appeared suddenly at his side. "Phitchit!" he greeted.
"Good morning Viktor," Phitchit replied. "How's our Yuuri doing this morning?"
Viktor smiled brightly and Yuuri was once again struck with what he assumed must be the delusion the man's smile was shaped like a heart. "Made a mean double caramel cappuccino already," he pronounced, the cup in his hand. "The usual?"
Phitchit nodded, and Viktor turned to Yuuri, "Shall I teach you how to make a pumpkin spice latte next?" he asked.
Yuuri nodded, deciding he needn't bother telling the silver-haired man he already knew how to make the drink and only didn't know where the ingredients were again. Repeating himself would probably only make the beautiful Russian tire of him, and he was in no hurry to do that.
"Oh, I should probably mention," he explained. "It's Phitchit's staff pick–we each have one. A drink that can always be made, no matter what. Let us know what you choose and we'll add it to the list. Mine's the double caramel cappuccino, by the way." He smiled at their shared favorite drink, then continued, leaving Yuuri's heart to process its stumble on its own. "And we have the supplies: Katsuki gets them mostly for fall and we keep them in stock year-round because Phitchit orders a PSL literally every day."
"What can I say?" Phitchit remarked. "It's my favorite."
Viktor smiled, then led Yuuri back to the espresso machine, kneeling to open a cupboard secreted under the sink. The two crouched down to look within, a silver-haired head bending close to a black-haired one. Inside the cupboard were a variety of odds and ends: the pumpkin syrup and mixed spice canister, along with bags of white and multicolored marshmallows and bottles of Kahlua and amaretto. "This is the extras cupboard," Viktor explained, taking the pumpkin syrup himself and handing the mixed spice canister to Yuuri. "As in any drink made with something in here costs extra."
The men rose, placing the ingredients on the countertop, then turned to the espresso machine. Yuuri let Viktor lead him through the process even though he was well-accustomed to it. He could swear he momentarily forgot what coffee was when Viktor's long fingers brushed against his as they exchanged canisters, anyway.
Phitchit pronounced the latte delicious, expertly picking up on Yuuri's silent request not to let on he was an old hand at PSLs, and Viktor positively shone with pride in his protege. God, he's so beautiful, Yuuri thought, and was promptly seized by a bout of self-doubt. How could he measure up to Viktor's expectations of him, even if he did already know how to make coffee? Mentally, he urged Phitchit to stay–he was always a better, less anxious version of himself when his best friend was around.
"See you later, Yuuri!" the sunny Thai man called in farewell, telepathically assuring Yuuri he could do it, Viktor was sure to like him. As he took the next customer's order–thankfully a relatively straightforward latte–Yuuri internally disputed Phitchit's claim; still, his cheerful friend's confidence in him made him feel a bit better.
Magically, the rest of Yuuri's shift passed by without him spilling an urn of scalding hot coffee all over Viktor. In fact, no one suffered second or third-degree burns, although there were a few moments where Yurio edged into the territory of deserving them. Luckily, after a few stern talkings-to by Viktor about how one shouldn't joke so loudly about adding extra espresso to the drinks of those seeking only light, sugary beverages, the angry Russian blond calmed down enough show Yuuri his tiger-emblazoned phone and brag about how he was going to be the mother of all cats someday. The Japanese man nodded seriously, forcing himself not to laugh, and a portion of the thickly-dripping disdain in the younger Russian's constant scowl edged hesitantly off his face.
Finally, the long hours of Yuuri's shift dwindled to none and he took his last orders before turning the store over to the evening shift staff. Viktor had disappeared into the back, presumably to do some record-keeping in Ryuji's absence, and Yurio was collecting the cups that, in his words "people had not had the basic decency to bring back to the front", so he stood alone behind the counter, steaming milk and carefully pouring caffeinated drinks into the prepared cups.
"Yes, sir?" he asked a brown-haired Chinese boy who looked too young to be drinking coffee. "What would you like?"
"Oh, are you new?" the boy replied, smiling.
"Yes," Yuuri replied for the hundredth time that day. Kohi A-Katsuki had a lot of regular customers who recognized the baristas even without their nametags, so his presence had generated a lot of curiosity. "My name is Yuuri Katsuki."
"Are you related to Katsuki-shacho at all?" another slightly taller young man asked, approaching behind the first. This question, too, Yuuri had been asked many times, although not nearly as many as the first.
"His cousin," he replied, and the two brunets nodded sensibly.
"We should introduce ourselves too," the slightly taller man said, "My name is Leo de la Iglesia and this is Guang-hong Ji." He gestured at the shorter boy, and Yuuri recognized their names as those of the evening shift baristas schedule to replace him. Again, he was surprised by how young Guang-hong seemed to be, but considered that he might look younger than he really was. Or not: Ryuji had started helping out around the coffee shop, then owned by their grandfather, when he was in middle school. It wouldn't be surprising if he let someone young work for him in turn.
Leo and Guang-hong came around the counter and started getting ready for their shift. Out at one of the tables, Yurio had finished collecting the cups and was chatting animatedly to a stern-looking black-haired man. Must be a friend of his, Yuuri thought–Yurio would never randomly strike up a conversation with a stranger.
Suddenly there was a flash of silver in his peripheral vision.
"Order up!" a heavenly Russian-accented voice declared. "Double caramel cappuccino for Yuuri Katsuki to celebrate his first day!"
Yuuri turned and there stood Viktor, a cappuccino in his hand and a beatific smile on his handsome face. Mind unable to process what had been said, Yuuri distantly found his hand reaching out to take the proffered beverage and bringing the cup to his lips. Viktor had made him a surprise coffee? And it was perfect, just like its maker. As he gratefully sipped the drink, he told himself I think I'm going to like this job.
A/N: I feel I must confess I've never worked in a coffee shop, so if anything is wrong in how they make coffee or that kind of thing, that's why. Let me know and I'll fix it.