It wasn't that Erik wasn't easy to please, he wasn't easy to please, but that wasn't the point. He saw plenty of people in his line of business, and he saw his fair share of handsome young men. It wasn't even that the brunette from the sidewalk was the most beautiful thing he had seen even just that week. But there was something about the young man that made him forget about any other person he had looked at half-favorably.

He guessed that that blonde that had come in yesterday was probably more rugged: had he had a stronger jaw? a more strident set to his shoulders? It was hard to remember now, because all he could seem to see was the ever-present faint smile that pulled at the brunette's red lips, the angle of the clean-shaven jaw, the quirked eyebrows over those amazing blue eyes, visible even from Erik's window-watch.

From that point on, watching the brunette was a part of Erik's ritual, and he was constantly upset when the man missed their appointment on the weekends.

Must be a student, he thought bitterly, wiping down the table with more vigor than usual.

"What's up with you?" Sean asked one sunny Wednesday that was excellently splendid apart from the fact that the brunette had somehow missed their sidewalk date.

"What do you mean?" Erik grumbled. He was used to missing the man on the weekends, that he could deal with-but for the guy to stand him up in the middle of the week...what gave?

"You seem pissed about something. More pissed than usual, I mean," Sean explained hesitantly.

"What? You have a problem with my sunny disposition?" Erik growled at the young man, earning a squeak.

"Now that you mention it, you have seemed kind of...strange lately. Not just today, but like...in general..." Alex agreed, giving some lady her apple cider.

Erik was just happy it was these two bringing it up to him-these two he could out-maneuver. Hank he could probably handle too, since the boy seemed even more intimidated by him than the others. But, God, if it had been Angel, or Azazel...he'd have to be more careful...

He didn't have time to be careful, though, because as soon as Janos walked in to take over the closing shift the man eyed him levelly and said, "What is it? What is the going on?"

Erik pretended he couldn't understand the Spaniard.

"Get better English before you try to talk to me, Janos," he said flippantly, and tried to walk off but Janos grabbed his arm.

"My English is very well," he pouted. "Now what is problem? Is it business? Is business okay?"

"Business is fine," Erik said, rolling his eyes, because it was. "Now, please, I have to go meet with our vendor. Remember to take out the trash tonight, I don't want to deal with it in the morning."

Janos was middle of the road: maybe he could avoid Janos' pointed questions and maybe he couldn't. But if word got around to Az or Angel, or, heaven forbid, if one of the kids told Emma, there would be no end to his woes. He was going to have to think of something to give them to make them stop wondering what was up with him. But what?

He'd sleep on it. Maybe that would help...

But the next morning nothing had improved, and it was only luck that he started the morning off with Sean instead of Angel-they had had to switch shifts so that Angel could go with her freshman tour group to the museum downtown.

"What do you mean, you've never been here before? You live two blocks away!" Some woman said loudly as she banged through the door. Erik recognized her: Cappuccino, extra foam, at least once a week. When one of the kids tried to make her drink she would complain about it being too fuzzy and Erik always had to redo it to keep the foam velvety, something the kids could never seem to manage.

Erik moved Sean away from the espresso machine when he saw her, but was too shocked to start her drink as he saw who she was dragging in behind her.

"I make my own tea, I don't need to spend five dollars a day on it like you do," his brunette laughed, taking off his gloves as he walked in after his friend, so-blue eyes just as impressive under the dim lighting in here as they were in the sunshine. He's English, Erik's fizzing brain staticked to him. Do you hear that? That's his voice. He's English. Two minutes ago you didn't know a single personal thing about him, now you know he's from England and he's thrifty.

"Well it's my treat today so try to splurge. And please don't embarrass me by ordering tea. They know me here," the woman hissed.

Erik thought that was a bit much. They didn't know her here-they knew her annoying particularity for velvety foam. Erik didn't even know her name. And he certainly wouldn't think less of the brunette for ordering tea, even though their selection here was embarrassingly abysmal. The fact was it was useless to waste money on the good stuff when so many people ignored it for their coffee fix. The only kids who drank tea were the hipsters, and he didn't want anything on the premises that would encourage them to come here.

"Good morning, Sean," the woman said to the boy he had shoved in front of the register. Erik regretted it now: the brunette was standing there smiling at his lousy redhead.

"Good morning, Miss MacTaggert. The usual?" Sean sighed, eyeing Erik warily. Erik came back to himself and started on the milk.

"Yes please," she sing-songed back to him. "And I'll be getting my friends', too-same tab."

"What are you having?" Sean asked and Erik smirked to his milk when the lilting English voice said, "Hot chocolate, please."

"You absolutely are not," MacTaggert whined.

"Would it be more grown up if I added peppermint?" the man mused.

"Not at all."

"Well, I don't know then. I don't drink coffee."

"Have a latte," MacTaggert suggested. Erik frowned. The man didn't drink coffee-why waste money on a coffee drink?

"Mind if I make a suggestion?" Erik heard someone say, and realized it was his own stupid self. He turned and probably looked just as shocked at his offer as MacTaggert and her date did.

The man was the first to recover, blue eyes lit up with a smile. "By all means!"

Erik set down the steamed milk and reached over Sean to ring them up, not wanting to say the drink out loud. The man would think he didn't know what he was doing.

"I've seen you before, haven't I?" the man asked as his girl payed for his mystery drink. Erik moved back to the coffee maker to start her espresso and the man moved with him around the counter, making Erik smile.

"I don't think so," Erik said, because 'No, but I've seen you,' sounded like a serial killer line.

"Do you work here often? I live just up the road-maybe I've seen you on the street," the man suggested. Erik shook his head, he definitely would have noticed this man on the street. Did notice him on the street, pretty much daily.

"I work here every day-I own the place," Erik explained, giving the woman her drink and starting on the man's.

Those blue eyes were ecstatic, which was catching and made Erik's smile widen, against his better judgment.

"That must be it, then. I walk past here every day. That must be why you look so familiar," the man said, and reached his hand over the bar. "I'm Charles Xavier."

"Erik Lensherr," Erik replied, breath feeling tight as he touched Charles' thin but sturdy hand. He had meant to monitor himself carefully to make sure he didn't hold the man's hand for too long, and so ended up pulling way before it was probably socially necessary to do so. Charles Xavier. He has a name. His name is Charles Xavier.

"How absolutely thrilling it is to meet you," Charles said, and Erik was smitten both by how over-the-top that statement was and how believable Charles made it seem, smiling at him like that. He was still breathless at being able to put a name to the face after so long. Who would have thought that he'd have this exacting annoyance of a woman to owe it all to?

Erik tried to think of something else to say, but his mind just kept repeating Charles Xavier, Charles Xavier, so that he knew if he opened his mouth it would be the first thing to come out.

Remembering his girl, Charles turned to introduce her.

"This is my friend, Moira MacTaggert."

"Charles, please-he knows me. I'm in here all the time," she laughed.

Erik really wanted to explain to her that in his head she had been Annoying Cappuccino Lady until five minutes ago, but that would mean talking to someone who wasn't Charles, and he was having none of that.

Erik handed Charles his drink, happy that their fingers touched when the brunette took it, and said "You'll have to tell me if you like it."

"What is it called?"

"Try it first and I'll tell you after," Erik suggested, and Charles took his advice.

"Mmmm," the man said, taking the first hot sip and maybe singeing his tongue in the process. "It's spicy, but sweet-just my type."

Did Erik imagine the way the blue eyes narrowed at that? He gulped and tried to speak to cover his nervousness.

"It's a Chai latte-no espresso in it. A perfectly respectable grown-up drink for people who hate coffee," Erik explained and Charles beamed at him.

"Thank you, my friend. You've officially made me presentable as a cafe-goer. I suppose I'll have to come here all the time now that I needn't hang my head in shame in every cafe I enter."

Erik didn't know if he was being sarcastic or not, so cleared his throat to continue.

"There's nothing shameful about drinking tea-the only shameful thing is our stock of it. You could find better tea at your local grocery store than at most cafes," Erik said, and then realized what had come out of his mouth and why Charles and Moira were staring at him: he had basically admitted to listening in on their conversation since the moment they walked through the door.

Erik's face burned hot and he knew he was blushing, but couldn't hide it. Charles didn't look upset though-didn't even look as shocked as Moira-he looked rather pleased, really.

"Wellllll, we're going to go sit down," Moira said flatly, grabbing Charles by the elbow and steering him off.

"Thank you so much for the drink again!" Charles said and Moira dragged him away to the far corner of the cafe.

Erik tried to wipe the blush off his cheeks and get back to work.

He realized that Charles had introduced Moira as his friend, not his girlfriend, and smiled, whistling as he made the next customer's mocha.