Mikasa shoved the last quad-coffee carton to the outer edge of the counter with a pained,
"Have a nice day."
"You could try to smile."
She crossed her arms at Armin, who shied immediately, mumbling something about customer service. Fortunately the lull in customers that followed the rush meant having a decent five minutes off her feet. At least, if she were lucky. She snagged her water bottle and anchored at a tiny corner table, doing a whole lot of thankful nothing until the door opened a moment later.
He had returned, of course. And he had been through so many times that week that she had learned far too much about him already, including his propensity for frappes with double the espresso. Which she had gleaned only due to his loud voice because it was Armin who always seemed to find a way to be the one to take his order. And if Armin thought he was being subtle, then the only person in the world who was falling for it was the seemingly confident guy standing across from him with a paper bill already in hand. A seemingly confident guy who continued to not find the confidence to just ask him out already. Meanwhile, Armin was so busy gathering bits and pieces that he kept on missing the stricken look plastered to their suddenly repeat-customer's face. Or maybe he was just being shy.
Well if she had to watch them glance away from and blush at each other for one more shift in a row, she was going to lose it. Mikasa pushed off from the table and slipped back behind the counter, giving Armin a hard elbow the moment his mystery man turned away, receipt in hand. Armin grabbed his side and groaned.
"What was that for?"
"Why don't you just ask him out?"
His face went from pained to tomato to what she guessed was his best sour face in less than a second.
"Or I can do it for you," she offered.
"No!"
"No, you won't or no, you don't want me to?"
"You can't ask someone out for me," Armin hissed under his breath. "And he - no, I - I don't think he'd like me."
The last admission came fast and quiet.
"All he does is watch you."
Armin balked, resuming his task but tamping the espresso much harder than was necessary.
"That's not true."
Mikasa glanced over.
"He's literally watching you right now."
Armin snuck a look up. Mikasa almost sighed when both boys immediately looked away from making eye contact.
"I'm giving him your number," she decided aloud.
"Mi - No, Mikasa - What're you -"
She pulled a marker from her apron and had three digits scrawled across the sticker before Armin snatched it from her hand, leaving a rather elongated and skewed 'one' behind.
"Thanks for wasting a cup," Armin sniffed, tossing it to the bin. She caught it easily, earning what sounded like a low curse from him. He pursed his lips and stared. She returned the favor.
But ultimately softened. It was just… so obvious.
"He likes you," she tried one last time before making her way to the register, a new customer already approaching the glass front of the café.
Armin gave her nothing back, only moved to pull milk from the fridge. She idly picked at a notepad, watching from the corner of her eye as the girl who had just entered ducked immediately to examine their baked goods.
Until she felt the slightest tug at her apron. Armin had snuck her marker for himself, sending her only the slightest of side eyes before turning his back to her. She let a smirk turn the corners of her lips at the very complete string of numbers that appeared on the cup, each neatly written save her crooked one. His cheeks were flushed up to his nose as he poured the order into the cup and capped it, movements nervous and clipped, but heading straight for the target. She watched with a silent smugness as his admirer examined the cup at once, only to fumble for his phone in the next moment. And he had a great smile, even she had to admit.
"Eren."
He offered Armin his hand, awkwardly bent around the plastic divider.
"Hey?"
She snapped back to the counter, suddenly blindsided by the girl leaning clear across it.
"Sorry! I just was kind of hoping to get these," she said with a gesture to a small pile of goods.
Mikasa could feel herself freezing, hands clamming at an alarming speed.
"Are you… ok," the girl asked.
Her pulse did a funny thing when the gap between them lessened even further.
"Is this all for you?" she blurted out. If her customer was offended, it did not show in the enthusiastic,
"Oh, this? Yeah! Yeah, um, but can I pay? I'm kind of hungry."
Mikasa plucked up the outstretched card, rang up the order, and made as little eye contact as possible. But she didn't stop watching, impressed at how many croissants could be consumed in a row, until Armin's elbow dug into her side.