Keith had never really considered himself to be the type of person to find someone immediately attractive. He didn’t find people attractive in general, just annoying. It was probably why his last few relationships had failed. To be fair, talking about golf tactics while you’re in your early twenties doesn’t exactly scream late night parties and fun dates. Even if the guy was incredibly sweet and a pretty good lay.
Regardless, Keith didn’t exactly believe in that whole love at first sight propaganda. His brother did; it was how he had found his girlfriend of three years. He told the story with doe eyes and a goopy smile that made Keith want to pull his insides out just to have an excuse to save himself from the story again. No, love at first sight was not a thing.
“Hey, buddy, what can I get’cha?”
Until now.
Keith can only stare wide eyed at the glorious Greek God of a man, who was watching him expectantly with a smile that probably was the reason the sun rose every morning. He was taller than Keith by just a bit, his muscular arms peeking out from his black uniform. There was the trace of a tattoo peeking out at his collarbone - not that Keith was looking, God - and another on his wrist.
His blue eyes sparkle with amusement at Keith’s apparent predicament. He leans on the counter, his muscles flexing - somebody in here had to know CPR, Keith hoped, because he was going to need it in a few minutes.
“You know what you want?” He asks, in a voice that lilts with the barest trace of an accent. Keith guesses it’s of Spanish or Latin descent. He doesn’t care, though, because he just wanted this guy to keep talking to him.
“I-I,” Keith splutters, choking on his tongue. “Yes. Yeah, I, uh.” He whips out his phone. Pidge was going to kill him if he got her order wrong for the third time in a row, which was why he’d had her text it to him.
“Um, so, uh… Bear with me here,” He chuckles nervously, scrolling up to the message. “My friend wants a triple venti half-sweet caramel macchiato, but like… not hot.”
The barista blinks, leaning back and running a hand through his hair before looking at the register and starting to punch it in. “Alright… You said venti, right?”
He glances up. Keith swallows his heart and nods.
“And what can I get you?” His fingers are ready for the next ridiculous order, but Keith was unfortunately one to disappoint.
“Um, just a black coffee. One cream, one sugar. Oh, and a coffee cake.” Pidge would kill him if he forgot her coffee cake.
He smiles faintly, tugging Keith’s heartstrings along with it. “Wow. Adventurous, aren’t we?” He takes a break, leaning over the register again. “Okay. Let’s do this. One triple venti half-sweet caramel macchiato, one coffee cake and one black coffee, one cream and one sugar.”
Keith wanted him to talk forever. That voice was doing things to him that should be illegal at this time of day, in this weather. It was freezing outside, he was supposed to be freezing his ass off, not melting from the inside out.
“Yeah. Sounds about right.” He says, pulling his wallet from his back pocket and flipping it open.
“You want your coffee cake hot?” The magnificent angel asks in his glorious voice. Keith was very glad he was a flaming homosexual.
“Um,” He glances over at the door, which had frosted over from the heat that contrasted from the biting cold outside. “No, I think it might freeze if I do that. Pidge would kill me…”
“So I’m guessing you want your hot drink stopped up?” The barista - Keith drops his gaze down to read the Hi, My Name Is Lance! tag - laughs. He could feel his heart fluttering like a bird in his chest. Lance was such a… perfect name. He had never loved a name more in his life.
“Yes, please,” He says helplessly, smiling. “I don’t feel like being castrated today.”
“That would be a shame,” Lance says almost suggestively with a playful wink. “Nineteen fifty-two is your total. Cash or card?”
Keith winces. Pidge owed him one for this. The things he put up with for a good grade in Calculus. He pulls out a twenty, handing it to Lance, and drops his change into the tip jar with an extra dollar.
“Hey, thanks,” The barista lights up. He picks up a couple cups, jotting stuff down on the back and pausing, flicking his electric blue gaze up. “Name?”
“Uh,” Keith was so good at English. “Keith.”
He would swear up and down that Lance smirked at him. It was either that or someone had shocked Keith’s spine to make him shiver. “Great. It should be ready in a few minutes.”
“Thanks, Lance.”
The look of surprised happiness on the barista’s face was enough to make his entire week.
***
“You are obsessed.” Pidge remarks dryly, sipping her coffee and looking up at him with amused hazel eyes.
“No!” Keith defends hotly, sipping a pumpkin spice latte that Lance had mentioned were his favorite one afternoon. Not that he cared. Not that he went there every morning looking for the barista with the stunning smile and lilting voice.
“Keith, you hate pumpkin.”
“It’s not so bad…” He mumbles, glancing down at his Calculus textbook, flipping it open. Never had he wanted to actually do his homework so badly.
“Keith,” His best friend reaches over, pulling the bag that held the recommended-by-Lance treat over to herself. She looks down, then back up at him. “You’re drinking pumpkin shit. You’re eating something that actually resembles food, and you literally go to this particular Starbucks every morning to see if you can catch the guy. What’s his name? Lance?”
He flushes hotly, yanking the bag away from her. “I just like that particular Starbucks!”
“Uh huh,” She pushes her glasses up the brim of her nose. “Whatever you say, Gaylord.”
Keith stews quietly for a moment, reading the pages in front of him without actually comprehending any of the symbols. His gaze catches on her cup. He scans the printed out sticker that read the abbreviated version of her drink.
An idea creeps into his head. Keith looks up at his friend a smile playing around the corners of his lips. Pidge looks up, midway through shoveling half her coffee cake in her face.
“What?” She swallows, scowling at her friend. “You’re looking at me funny.”
“I need a favor.”
***
“Hey, Keith!”
Keith can feel himself grow an inch taller at the sound of his name when he walks through the door. He stomps the snow from his boots, looking around the empty store and unwinding his windblown scarf from his neck.
“Hey, Lance.” He grins, looking over at the barista. Lance was leaning over the counter lazily, resting his chin on his arms. That tattoo on his collarbone was tucked away. Keith feels a twinge of remorse. What he would give to see the full picture.
“What can I get you today, Space Cadet?” He teases, straightening up. Keith had made the mistake of telling him he was going to school to become an Aerospace Engineer, so now every day he had a new nickname that was space related.
Keith grins. “I have a new order for you. You ready for this?”
Lance stands up straight, saluting to him with a dopey grin. “Aye, aye, captain!”
He pulls out his phone as he walks over to the counter, clearing his throat. “So Pidge wants a venti caramel macchiato, with skim milk instead of regular, extra shot, extra hot,” He snorts at the rhyme. Lance grins. “Oh, and extra whip.”
The barista punches this into the register, scoffing as he writes down the name and circles a few things on the cup before sticking the order sticker on the cup. “Oh, c’mon, supernova. That wasn’t even hard. I could write that in my sleep.”
“And a coffee cake,” Keith adds with a laugh, blushing at the nickname. That was his favorite so far. “But I think you already knew that.”
“So predictable,” Lance sighs mournfully, poking out his bottom lip in a pout. “Give me a real challenge!”
Keith pauses, opening up his texting app and scrolling to the specific text. He had been blessed with a best friend who used Google Search as both a tool and a weapon. He never wanted to be on her bad side.
“Are you sure? Last chance to back out.”
Lance grins, getting ready to type in everything. “Hit me.”
Keith takes a breath. “Double ristretto venti, half soy, nonfat, decaf, organic, chocolate brownie, iced, vanilla, double shot, gingerbread frap, extra hot, with foam whipped cream, upside down, double blended, with one sweet n low and one nutrasweet and ice.”
The whole store is silent. Even the music was holding its breath. Keith glances up from his phone, clicking it to sleep mode and looking up at the barista. Lance was staring at him with a stricken expression, as though Keith had reached out and smacked him.
“Damn, starshine!” He laughs, rubbing his neck. “I don’t even… I don’t even think that will taste good, buddy.”
Keith grins, pocketing his phone. “I know.”
“But…” Lance hesitates, his blue gaze flicking up to Keith’s, nervous and worried. “You… sure you want that?”
“Fuck no, I don’t want that!” Keith laughs, shaking his head.
“You ass!” Lance groans, rubbing his face. “You nearly made me die, I’m the only one on the floor right now and I don’t even… half of that sounds made up!”
“Yeah,” Keith agrees smugly. “Definitely.”
“You’re so mean.” Lance whines.
“Yeah.” He agrees with another laugh.
Lance studies him, the anxious relief fading from his eyes, replaced by something softer. Keith had to look away, his cheeks heating up. Why did this guy make him feel like goo?
“So what do you actually want?” The barista asks, his gaze surprisingly soft.
You, Keith thinks, but that wasn’t something you could just… say. He settles for another pumpkin spice latte and a bagel sandwich, paying and watching as Lance moves around to effortlessly craft the drinks.
When Keith is walking out, he glances down to see writing on the paper bag that his breakfast was in. He recognized the familiar scrawl, pausing on his route to look down.
You liar, the pretty scrawl reads. There’s a number, Lance’s name under it, with another message underneath it. Here’s what you really wanted.