A/N: I saw this prompt from someone on tumblr that immediately made me think of Ereannie. Since I can't provide a link for the prompt, here it is! -

"acegraysons:

so you know those soulmate AUs where you've got your soulmates first words to you written on your body in their handwriting? what if your soulmate had really shit handwriting? and you'll have no idea when you meet them because you can't decipher their stupid fucking handwriting"


Can I take your order


"Can I take your order, miss?"

How anti-climactic. So simple, there was nothing special about it. But that's what it had said, all this time, that's what had been stained onto her skin, but she hadn't known that. The words were an intricate sloppy spiral etched into the underside of her right forearm, and curving to her elbow.

The mark had been there for as long as Annie started counting to ten. Unfortunately, unlike most special individuals who received the first words their soul mate would ever say to them, written in their soul mate's cursive; Annie had been blessed with one that was so horribly unintelligible, for years she couldn't read what would be the first sentence her soul mate would ever say to her.

Until she had met him.

"You sure you can't make it out?" Hitch, Annie's recent roommate and long-time seat buddy at her university, yanked at her arm to inspect the words. Annie huffed, rolling brilliant blue eyes, "I've told you many times, I can't read that mess."

"I could see a y there, that's a y—" Hitch poked at her arm, "And…that's an r, I think?"

Hitch prodded at her arm some more, "I mean, I don't know, I'm pretty sure this one say's ran, wait, that's a C? No…Hang on a second."

Annie groaned, slumping forward onto the kitchen counter, "Just forget it, Hitch." They'd been attempting to decipher Annie's marked words from the crack of dawn all the way to the bustling mid of afternoon. It was a Saturday too—Annie always went to the gym on Saturdays, but this time she skipped, for the sake of enciphering her words for what would be the seventy-eighth time this month, and yes, she tally-marked each day they decided to encrypt the code.

But to no luck. The words were basically fat loops of utter non-sense. To anyone, it would look like a child had scribbled on the underside of her arm with a ball point pen. Annie found it ridiculous that anyone—especially anyone ranging around her age, would be this terrible at writing in script.

"Oh, c'mon!" Hitch jostled her shoulders, "I'm almost getting there, I swear I saw a readable word in there somewhere."

Annie snorted, "These words have been on my arm since I could read." She turned her arm to gaze at her words, well, her soul mate's words, but they were on her body. So, it's only Annie's right that she considered them hers too. "Trust me, you're going to get nowhere, I've been going at it for the longest, I still can't even read the first word."

Hitch pondered for a moment, tapping a finger on her chin. "Should I get a magnifying glass?"

A long exasperated sigh was her only answer.

"Alright, so, I have an idea." Hitch beamed at Annie one day, while waiting in line at a Starbucks. It was a Monday morning, and everything seemed to be moving at a snail's pace. "I'll take you to my Literature professor during her off hours, and we'll see if she can decipher that scribble."

"Already done it." Annie quipped, adjusting her purse. "Eighth and Sixth grade, had my English teachers try to make sense of this—" She waved her right arm around, "None of them could get pass the first letter."

Hitch's face fell, almost pitifully, "That's just sad."

"We can't all win." Annie shrugged, moving up in line. There had been a wave of new employees at their local Starbucks, and the recently hired barista working there was dwindling down to his last fumes, he moved rather sluggishly to the register, his hair was a disarray of dark tangles, the bags under his eyes were more prominent up close, though, his eyes were something extraordinary, a striking greenish blue hue that reminded Annie of the sea.

She hadn't known she was already caught staring. The barista cleared his throat rather loudly, "Can I take your order, miss?"

Annie jerked, as if something stung her. Hitch noticed her little mishap, she smirked deviously but said nothing. Annie took her time scanning the board behind him, brows furrowed tightly in confusion. She felt ridiculous when she had to ask, "Does a venti mean large?"

The barista bright eye's widened in recognition, only for a fraction of a second—it went unnoticed by Annie, who was busy scouring the row of pastries off to the side. "Yeah, yes it does."

"I'll have a venti Frappe, caramel flavor, please."

"And, I'll have an espresso, Americana." Hitch butted in, the barista nodded mutely as he grabbed a venti cup, barely acknowledging her presence; his attention seemed to be drawn to the petite blonde. "Your name, miss?" He asked, voice a softer octave than before.

"Annie."

"Annie." He repeated, slowly, writing her name onto the cup. Then with a boyishly playful grin, he added, "That's a cute name, I like it."

Hitch raised one fine eye brow, glancing to Annie, only to find that her usually stoic friend was struck embarrassed, and blushing too furiously to form words. "Uh—thanks." Annie mumbled, and then remembering who she was, Annie said in the best sweetest voice she could muster, "You've got nice eyes, I like them."

The barista looked up, perplexed, marker poised over a shot cup, then he eased into a charming grin, one that even Hitch found attractive. His eye's flitted back to the cup, his ears tinged pink, and he mumbled a thank you.

Hitch was the one who hurried to find them an available table when the Barista turned his back to make their orders, once she found some cushioned seats at the corner of the café, she plopped down, pulling Annie with her.

"Please tell me that was flirting, you were flirting, right?" Hitch grasped at Annie's shoulders, desperation clawing away at her, because the Annie Leonhardt she knew, and love, brushed away compliments from men like dust off her shoulder. She had a destined soul mate, after all. But this time Annie reacted differently, which begged Hitch to question her friend's libido.

Annie shrugged nonchalantly, "He just complimented me, so I complimented him. No biggie."

"Yes, biggie!" Hitch exasperated, "Don't you have a soul mate?"

"Not if I don't know what their first words to me are going to be." Annie said, flipping hair out of her face, "I could have already met them, but I wouldn't know because their hand writing is shit."

Hitch tugged on Annie's marked arm, rolling up her sweater sleeve, she scrutinized the words tattooed on her friend's arm, "Goddammit," she mumbled, then more loudly, she groaned, "Goddammit." Hitch hugged Annie's arm to her bosom. "Don't worry girl, I promise you by the end of this semester, we're gonna' crack that code."

"The mid-terms are a week from now."

"So we'll crack the code after mid-terms!"

Annie tugged her arm out Hitch's grip, slumping into the stiff cushioned seat; even if they did somehow managed to discover what her words say, Annie still wouldn't know if she had already met her destined soul mate. If only fate was better at playing match maker. If only her soul mate didn't have the handwriting style of a five year old.

"Oh god, looks like Romeo's ogling you now." Hitch whispered, discreetly jabbing a thumb to the left of the cash registers, Annie glanced off to the side, and sure enough, her attention was caught by the tropical teal of her barista's eyes. His mouth quirked in a small smile, and while she determined whether to return the same gratitude, he winked at her, and the gesture left Annie stunted for a whole second.

The barista chuckled to himself, focusing back to his task, he pressed the button of a chrome machine, filling a small white cup with steaming dark liquid, Annie could smell the strong dark roast of coffee beans from where she sat.

Hitch let out a sharp huff. "I'll get our orders since you can't seem to function around pretty boys." She stood from the seat, walking around the table to retrieve their drinks. Annie ducked when the barista's attention swayed over to her as he handed Hitch the drinks. She cursed silently for losing her cool demeanor. It was peculiar that this young man would have that girlish giddy effect on her, especially when no man could get through to her, even with the most top-notch pick-up lines.

All this young man had to do was smile, while his eyes did the rest, and she was already swooning. But she knew what simple attraction felt like, Annie was sure if ever met her soul mate, they would have an even greater effect on her.

"I got your frappe," Hitch strolled up, placing the venti cup in front of Annie, "Caramel flavor…oh—and no phone number." She pouted mockingly. Annie rolled her eyes.

"Not like I would want it."

"Please." Hitch sat down, tossing a balled-up napkin her way, "You're pining for the barista boy and you know it." She peeled away the lid sealing her espresso, breathing in the delicious aroma. Annie idly swirled the straw of her frappe, chin in hand. Sensing that she was being watched—and by the barista, no less. He seemed to have no shame in blatant staring, as he prepared another customers drink.

Annie sipped at her chilled coffee, savoring the sweetness. Decidedly to make a show of swirling her tongue around the tip of the straw, languid and wantonly. From the corner of her the barista seemed entranced by her actions, Annie took it a step further, picking up the straw, and then slowly running her tongue up the end, collecting the excess cream. From the clash of Styrofoam cups, and the startled yelp she heard, her little peepshow endeavor worked.

"What the hell?! Jaeger!" Barked a short, dark-haired man, marching up behind the young barista. Most likely the manager. The barista startled, turning with eye's widened like saucers. "Ah! I'm sorry, Levi, I'll clean this up right away!"

"You better, and while you're at it, I want that rest room sparkling clean by the time we close!"

"Y-yessir!"

Annie felt just the least bit sorry for the young man, but hey, he did start it. Hitch murmured something under her breath, then gasped softly. "Holy shit. Um—Annie?"

Annie was too busy surveying the commotion between the barista and his manager to pay Hitch any heed. Hitch poked her arm with one long manicured nail.

Annie hissed, recoiling her arm, glowering at her friend. "Ouch! What—what do you want?"

Hitch silently pointed at the frappe clutched in Annie's hand. An odd expression dawning her features. Annie looked down, but couldn't catch what she was indicating. "What?"

Hitch sucked in a breath, pointing more insistently at Annie's cup, like a spider had crawled out of it. Annie lifted the cup to inspect the table, Hitch slapped a palm to her forehead. "The cup!" She whined, "I meant the cup!"

"What about it?"

"Jesus Christ—" Hitch snatched the frappe from her Annie, twirling the cup around so that the barista's scrawl of her name came into view and it took her a minute but—"Oh." Annie reeled back, sudden realization etching itself onto her pale face. "Oh."

She'd seen that script before. She'd recognize it anywhere. It was the same sloppy loops that failed to form a coherent letter—there was no mistaking it, the writing was the same as the words written on her arm. A tickling sensation ran down her forearm, Annie leaned forward, barely making out the wide slanted A of her first name. "Oh no…"

Hitch nodded, excitedly. "Oh, yes."

"Oh my god." Annie groaned, burying her beet-red face into her hands. "I just—Oh my god…"

"Looks like we found your life-partner!" Hitch cackled, and Annie hastily slapped a hand over her friend's too-damn-loud mouth.