Title: Coffee.
Summary: Mihashi gets a job at a cafe; Abe likes coffee?
Character(s): Mihashi Ren, Abe Takaya.
Pairing(s): AbeMiha.
"Oh, A-Abe-kun, I didn't know you liked coffee." Mihashi blinked up at Abe curiously from behind the counter, causing the catcher to fidget nervously. "Um, yeah... I like coffee," he mumbled, surveying the menu and trying to keep his eyes off the pitcher. Of course, this was a lie. He didn't really like coffee. It was too bitter for him, and it left a gross aftertaste in his mouth. But no way could he tell Mihashi the real reason he was there...
After he ordered, he stepped to the side and watched the ginger duck around one of his coworkers with an absentminded smile on his face, humming to himself as he started gathering what he needed to prepare Abe's drink. The catcher watched him twirling around the kitchen, biting his lip. The uniform for this particular cafe consisted of a pair of black jeans and a tight white shirt, along with a green apron embroidered with the shop's logo, and all of it seemed tailored to make Mihashi (in Abe's opinion) look as good as possible. Which was (also in his opinion) rather unfair.
Why did the idiot have to get a job at a coffee shop of all places? And why, oh why was the uniform so hot?! It was like the whole world was against him. Abe figured he would probably develop a premature stomach ulcer because he was 100% sure this cafe was going to be his regular hangout from now on and if he just sat there and didn't order anything it would be creepy, so he would be forced to consume copious amounts of caffeinated substances.
Mihashi began humming to himself as he stood on his tiptoes and reached up on top of a shelf to grab something, shirt riding up at the bottom to show the tiniest sliver of his pale abdomen, and Abe groaned inwardly, nearly smacking his head against the table. As the pitcher bent over to throw something away he actually did, and his forehead landed with a painful thwack.
"A-Abe-kun, are you alright?" a concerned voice asked from above, and Abe blearily lifted his head to find himself face-to-face with the ginger-haired pitcher. He jumped and sat up quickly. "Y-yeah, I'm fine!" He was almost shouting and tried to calm himself down, but this was increasingly hard to do with Mihashi in that uniform that hugged him in all the right places standing this close to him.
"Here's your drink." Mihashi set the cup down in front of him—not seeming to notice how red he was becoming—and brushed a few stray strands of hair out of his eyes, slightly breathless from running around the kitchen, and Abe nearly jumped him right there, but instead managed a weak, "Thank you."
"No problem. Let me know if you n-need anything else." Mihashi smiled—one of those rare, closed-eye smiles that made his nose crinkle and Abe's heart do flips—and waved at him before turning to head back to the counter. Abe took a sip of his drink, watching as Mihashi took someone's order, wearing an automatic smile, one of the ones that were typically plastered on his face around strangers, cordial but slightly confused, even though there was really nothing to be confused about.
God help me. He sighed and lowered his head again. I've fallen in love with an idiot.
