Remy arched a brow. "Sorry cher, but y' mind repeatin' dat?"

The customer – and he was a cute one, with big brown eyes framed by hair that hung almost to his shoulders – blinked at him. "Uh, could I please get two trenta sized café mochas with three extra expressor shots, five sugars, and a pump of caramel?"

"Cher, y' understand dat's a total of five expresso shots? In each cup?"

"Yes?" The poor thing looked like he needed about twelve extra hours of sleep. Probably why he wanted so much caffeine. The bags beneath his eyes were almost black, and Remy had to resist the urge to wrap him in a blanket and make him take a nap.

"Alright cher, two heart attacks ina cup for…?"

There was a moment of silence as the customer processed what Remy had said. "Oh, right, uh, Spencer."

Remy wrote it on the cups with a flourish, processed the payment, and directed Spencer towards the waiting area. "Y' could stand over dere cher, mais y' should sit down. One gust a wind and y'll be flyin' out da door."

Spencer just flapped a hand at him with a tired grin. "I'll be fine…" He squinted at his name tag, "Remy. Just need my coffee."

Huffing a laugh, Remy turned to the coffee machine, setting it up for the absurd order. Rogue, an ex from a (now) amicable break up and the reason he had this job, sidled up beside him. "Ah see ya met our resident caffeine addict," she remarked in her southern drawl, "Whataya think of our dear Doctor Reid?"

"He's a Doctor?" Remy was surprised. The man looked too young, although that might explain the exhaustion…

"Yup, times three." Rogue laughed when his jaw dropped and continued, "He's a regular here, so we're all pretty used ta dealin' with him all sleep deprived. Dunno what he does, but he sometimes comes in with a hunk of a coworker." She checked him with her hip as she set up another drink. "Ya didn't answer mah question – whataya think?"

"I tink he needs a nap," Remy admitted. "I'm about dis close ta wrappin' him up ina blanket an' makin' him."

Rogue hummed as he set up the expresso shots. Remy rolled her eyes at her knowing gaze and continued, "And he's a cute one, alright? Dose big brown eyes'a his are adorable. And if he's got t'ree doctorates, den he's gotta be a smart one."

Another hum. "Well, ah got it one good information that the good doctor's sssiiiingle!" Rogue sung out as she went back to the register for the next customer.

Remy just chuckled and finished the coffees. At the waiting area, he saw Spencer leaning against the counter, barely keeping his eyes open. He paused. Well, in for a penny… Grabbing the pen used to write names on the cups, Remy scrawled a quick message on one of the cup rings.

Give me a call if you want a better reason to be tired in the morning – Remy (555) 666-9016

Spencer took the coffee's with a smile, immediately lifting one – the one with his number – to his lips and gulping down the bitter liquid without any regard for the temperature. Remy raised an eyebrow. "Y'r lucky I made dat cooler dan normal, cher. Otherwise y' wouldn't be feelin' y'r tongue no more."

"Thank you for that," Spencer said in between gulps – and wasn't that impressive to watch – draining the cup before throwing it in the bin. "Thank you, Remy. Maybe I'll see you next time!"

And he was gone, second extra-large drink in hand.

For a moment, Remy couldn't move. Rogue came up from behind and poked him. "What's wrong wit' ya now, Cajun?"

He turned to her helplessly. "I gave him m' number, on one of da coffee rings…"

When he trailed off, Rogue nudged him harder, "Yeah, an' what?"

"He dumped m' number and left with de other coffee."

Silence. Then a peal of laughter that rang through the café, turning heads. "Oh Remy, what's it yah say? Po' boy? Yah a po' boy, Remy!"

In response, he spun around and stalked over to the creation station, slamming the jug into the milk frother and pushing the lever harder than necessary.

"Awww, don' be like that Remy! He'll be back tomorrow – ya can try again!"

Remy did try again. Spencer came into the café the next morning, looking a little bit more aware but still exhausted, and rattled off his order. Again, he wanted two coffees.

"Y' do realise caffeine ain't a replacement f'r a good night's sleep, oui?" Rem asked in concern. "Y' doin' okay cher?"

"I'm okay Remy," Spencer said with a smile. "I was just reading this fascinating dissertation linking insurance fraud to organised crimes, in regards to staged automobile accidents! Did you know that –" And so it went. Remy was happy to listen as the genius started to link previous articles he's read – "It's actually quite interesting, tracing the roots of American mafia back to Italy, specifically Sicily, there was this article I found –" and gentle nudge Spencer towards the waiting counter while he finished his coffee.

Remy had barely put them in his hands – writing his number on both coffees this time – before Spencer glanced down at his watch and paled. "Oh no, I'm late for work!" He looked up. "I'm so sorry Remy, Morgan tells me I should be careful of going off on tangents –"

"It's bien, cher." Remy waved it away. "Y' had da most beau look on y'r face, Remy couldn't bear ta stop y'."

And there was that blush – a pale red that spread across Spencer's cheekbones – and a shy glance down towards his fidgeting hands. "Uh, thanks, I – I should get going. See you next time Remy!"

Spencer took the coffees and left, leaving Remy to lean against the counter with a sigh.

Scott, the manager, was on shift today, and he nudged him as he passed. "Think about cute genius' in your own time Remy. You've got customers to serve."

Remy nudged him in turn. "An' what do y' know about cute lil' genius'?"

"I know that the likelihood of Spencer noticing your number to be very, very small," Scott shot back. "You're not the first barista to fall for those big brown eyes."

Ignoring the way his stomach dropped at the thought, Remy raised an eyebrow. "Should Logan be worried, Scotty?"

Said Logan scoffed from his usual seat near the counter. "The poor kid should be worried. Scooter's threatened more than once to cut him off."

Remy choked. "Did y' really?" He gasped out.

Scott blushed a little behind his perpetual sunglasses and turned away to serve another customer. Logan just laughed. "He tried, but Spencer looked so pitiful that he caved." He shook his head. "Anyway, Scooter's right. The barista before you – Warren – he tried to slip Spencer his number. Every time, the kid either lost it, or took it and didn't notice it. When he wrote it on a napkin, the kid dropped it, picked it up, and thought it was for another customer – he ended up getting Betsy and Warren together."

Remy laughed and took the cups Scott handed him, putting together the orders on autopilot. "Dat's one way ta get together."

Logan grunted and turned back to his newspaper. "Yeah, well hopefully you'll have better luck, Gumbo."

"Aw, mon ami…" Remy's smile was cocky and confident as he glanced over his shoulder, "Remy ain't da kind ta turn down a challenge."

Author's Notes

This one shot was like pulling fucking teeth. But it happened, it's not as long as I'd like, so I'll probably revisit it at some point with a resolution, but you know what? It exists for now, and I'm happy. I apologise for my appalling attempt to write a Cajun accent, but I have to say that I was inspired by the incredible works belonging to SpencerRemyLvr and MonPetiteTresor, who introduced me to this ship that I had never considered. Please have a look at their stuff – it's the absolute best, and part of the reason this took so long. Whoops.