AN: So this is a totally self indulgent AU that I've had in my head for quite a while. I'm excited to share it with you guys though! Hope you enjoy!
She was struggling to order a coffee. Just a coffee. All she wanted was a coffee. A really good, strong, black, coffee! Was that too much to ask!?
Apparently. Because her accent was so thick that asshole at the register kept rolling his eyes and asking "quoi?"
Maka Albarn was jet lagged, homesick, stressed, and decidedly pissed off. She gave up trying to speak whatever the fuck language she was trying to speak (because lord knew at that point) and went for English. "A coffee. Please."
"Un cafe?"
"No, a coffee. I just want a coffee, please and thank you."
"Quoi?"
"Coffee!" This was getting her no where. She turned and was about to give up when rapid fire French was thrown over her shoulder, the barista nodded, said something in return, and then she was gently being led away by a hand on her elbow to a table next to the windows.
"I ordered a café au lait for you, is that alright?" Oh…what an attractive voice. His accent was hard to place, almost musical but still sort of rough, and Maka finally looked up at him (he was pretty damn tall too, wow).
"Is that coffee?"
"Coffee with steamed milk, it's good." He said evenly as he took off his coat and hung it on the back of the chair across from her. Maka was pretty sure she was seeing things, he looked about her age but his hair was shades of silver and oddly beautiful in the way it fell across his red eyes. Wow, she really must have been a lot more tired than she thought. Either because she had never met someone with his colors, or because she was waxing poetic about a stranger's features, though, to his credit, he had managed to order her a coffee.
"Oh, perfect…thank you."
Their drinks were brought over and he handed her a large round mug that was almost closer to a bowl than a mug on top of a saucer, a palm leaf had been poured into the foam that looked like velvet. His own drink was in a tiny mini-mug that was sort of adorable and he downed it almost immediately.
"It goes bitter if it's left in the air too long," he said as way of explanation. Oh, she must have been making a face…oops.
"This is beautiful, what's it called again?"
"Un café au lait." Perfect French accent, "literally a coffee with milk." And then whatever accent that was. Not quite English, but not a French accent either. Something else.
"Where are you from?" Maka asked as she held her café au lait between her hands, warming her palms.
He grinned, huh, sharp teeth. Maybe this was all a dream? God she was tired. "Don't you want my name first?"
"No. I want to know what accent that is." She shot back a little bit peeved, she was not in the mood for shenanigans. Even if he had ordered her a coffee. Or…whatever the fuck this was in her hands. She should probably drink it and not be so pissed off.
He settled further back in his chair, the red dress shirt pulling tight against his chest and shoulders and that was sort of unfairly attractive. Maka took a sip of her coffee with milk to distract herself, she was an exchange student here to learn about international finance, she did not have time for handsome men with strange accents and apparently really good taste in coffee. Wow. This was actually exactly what she had always wanted a coffee to be.
"Think I could get this back in the States?"
"An American," there was a slightly drawn out way he said it, and she guessed it was the feminine form of American but in French, just with his accent. "Maybe? Hopefully, just don't try and get it at one of those awful chain coffee shops. They'd ruin it."
"True, I'll agree with that. Have to admire the reach of some of those chains, I've seen more than a few cropping up in some of the major cities." Yes, okay, good. Neutral ground, she could talk economics all day long.
He shrugged, "but their product is shit, so what's the point?"
"They're selling more than just bad coffee, it's an experience and a brand. Partially why the coffee is so much more expensive that it really had to be, you're buying the atmosphere and the status." It felt good to speak English again.
"A very smart American." There was that almost purr again, god she wanted to know what accent that was. "At least you know the coffee is bad."
"And I know enough to realize that this is fantastic." She would give him that.
"I'm glad you like it."
Maka continued to drink her coffee while Soul checked his phone and then swore in what sounded like…German? How many languages did he speak?
"My brother managed to forget his violin, I have to go get it for him. It was nice to meet you…?" He trailed off, waiting for her name.
"Maka. Thank you, I owe you a coffee." Well, yup. A lot more tired than she thought, apparently the caffeine hadn't kicked in yet, she didn't usually kind of sort of ask strangers out. Except…there was something about him and she wanted to know everything.
"Soul." He stood and shrugged his jacket back on with ease. "I'll take you up on that offer, Maka." Oh boy, he had a dangerous way of saying her name, that was going to be featured in her dreams. "And maybe next time I'll tell you about my accent." He scribbled his number down on a napkin with a small coffee stain on it and pushed it to her side of the table. "Enchantée." And with that he was gone.
Huh. That just happened. And she kind of liked that it had just happened. That should maybe happen again. Because wow. Plus. If anything. She needed to know where the hell his accent was from and how many languages he spoke.
First though, she needed to get a phone so she could text him. God damn it.