FIC: Coffee of the Day 1/1

Title: Coffee of the Day
Author: royalneptune
Pairing: Frank/Gerard, Brendon/Spencer
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine. I used to work for Starbucks though! Does that count?
Summary: Frank the lonely barista and Gerard the loyal consumer/art student. Guest appearances by Patrick the shift supervisor and Brendon the romantic.
A/N: This is the first of four fics I've written as part of a Christmas present to scarytales. She was kind enough to let me share it here, too. Enjoy! There's three more to come!





“I know, I know, I'm late!”

Frank ran past the front counter and bounded towards the door to the employee only back room. His shift supervisor, Patrick, fixed him with an exasperated glare from behind the cash register.

“Get on the floor ASAP!”

“Yeah, okay!”

Frank chucked his stuff down in the coat closet and scooped up a green apron from a pile that rest on an upturned milk crate. It looked at least semi clean, and Frank slipped it on before bounding back towards the front of the store. He slipped behind the counter and grinned at Patrick.

“Hi!”

Patrick rolled his eyes. “Just clock in.”

“Got it.” Frank punched in at the cash register before turning back to Patrick. “So, where you want me?”

It was Patrick's turn to grin. “The coffee of the day boards need to be changed.”

Frank's pout was instantaneous. “Nooo. Patrick. Come on. I fu--”

“Language!”

“--cking hate doing those things!”

Patrick just fixed Frank with a stern stare before shoving the multicolored chalk pens into Frank's hands. “You. Were late.”

Frank couldn't really argue with that. He had been working at the Starbucks on Broad st for a year now, and Patrick had been his shift supervisor for most of that time. Patrick was pretty cool as far as supervisors went, and Frank knew really that he was getting off easy with his coloring punishment.

“This is going to suck,” Frank grumbled as he spread out the chalk boards along a deserted table.

“Playing with chalk? Sounds awesome, actually.”

Frank turned to see a man in tattered jeans and a ratty sweatshirt looking curiously at Frank's chalk markers. Spotting the portfolio in the man's hands, Frank realized he must be a student of the nearby art school. They got a lot of students in this Starbucks, it was nestled right in between three of the school's buildings. They even showcased some of the school's student's art work from time to time.

“I kind of...suck at drawing,” Frank admitted, grinning at the man.

The man smiled and extended a hand, palm up. “I have some time to kill.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure. Fork over the markers, I'll have it done in no time.”

Frank stood on his tip toes and craned his head to see if Patrick was watching. He wasn't, he was too busy passing along coffee orders to Ray, who was manning the bar. Frank turned back towards the art student and happily handed over the markers. “Dude, have at it.”

“Awesome,” the guy cackled. He uncapped the markers and went to town. “I need to have something specific on here, right?”

“Oh yeah, this one's for Guatemala blend,” Frank said, taping the chalk board the man was currently drawing on. “And the other's just announcing that the Gingerbread Latte is back. You can put whatever on there.”

“Got it. Uh, can you hold...” he thrust his coffee cup towards Frank.

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Frank took the cup and watched the man continue, now with one hand free to hold the chalk board steady, to draw sweeping lines along the surface of the board. Fuck, the guy was hot, especially now that he was focusing so hard on his work. His dark hair was falling in front of his face and his small coffee stained teeth chewed at his bottom lip as he drew. Frank raised the man's coffee cup to his eyes and slid the sleeve down so he could read the messy sharpie on the side that announced the man's drink order and his name. Gee was scrawled in Patrick's sloppy handwriting below the call for an extra shot of espresso.

“Done!”

The latte fell back into the sleeve and Frank did his best not to look guilty. He handed the man, Gee, back his latte, and peered down at the chalk boards. “Wow, these are awesome.”

“Thanks.”

“You did that really fast, it would have taken me all freaking morning.” Frank grinned at Gee. “Thanks. Seriously.”

Gee smirked over the lid of his latte. “Anytime.” He winked at Frank before stepping around him and walking out the store.

Frank smiled to himself before quickly scooping up the finished chalk boards and taking them around the counter to hang up. The chalk boards slid easily on to the magnets that held them firmly in place. Frank put the second, and last, one up and stepped back to admire them. He looked over to where Ray stood behind the bar, taking advantage of the current lack of customers to tidy up a bit.

“Where's Patrick?” Frank asked, hopping up to one of the cash registers.

“In the back, on the phone with Bri—woah.” Ray had turned and finally spotted the boards Frank had put up. “Uh, you realize those'll last about four seconds when Patrick gets back, right?”

“What? Why?”




They boards ended up lasting about two seconds, really. Patrick had barely stepped back on the floor before he'd started shouting and yanked the boards down.

When Frank, again, expressed a lack of understanding what was so bad about the board's Gee drew, Patrick summed it up with, “Frank, the Gingerbread Latte is coming through the Skeleton's ribs. And the zombies are saying that Guatemala Blend goes well with brains. Do them over. Now.”

Frank did, but under protest. His protest was noted but no one really cared.




“Dude. What happened?”

Frank gave Gee an exaggerated pout. “The man happened.”

Gee laughed. “Not Starbucks appropriate, huh? I should have known. Sorry.”

“No, dude, I'm sorry,” Frank said quickly. “Those boards were AWESOME. I wanted to hang them in my house. I mean, seriously, they were amazing.”

“Thanks,” Gee said, blushing a bit. He leaned to the side so he could see past Frank to where the boards hung with Frank's new designs on them. “Stick figures, huh?”

“Apparently what they lack in substance they make up for in PC-ness. Whatever.”

Gerard squinted at the board for Guatemala blend for a moment before laughing. “What the hell does...'notes of cherry wood and a hint of mocha' mean?”

Frank laughed before leaning across the counter to whisper, “man, I have no idea.”

“You're clearly a very well informed barista.”

“Oh yeah, clearly.”

The woman who was standing behind Gee shuffled and cleared her throat, loudly. Frank shot her a bashful grin before focusing back on Gee. “Uh, so, what can I get you?”

“Venti Vanilla Quad Latte,” Gee rattled off. “I need it if I'm going to get through this art history seminar.”

“I know what you mean,” Frank said even though, really, he didn't. When Gee made to hand over a crumpled ten dollar bill, Frank just shook his head. “Nah, it's on me. Least I can do for letting the man destroy your art.”

Gee hesitated, but eventually slid his money back into his pocket. “Thanks. I'll see you later...?”

“Frank. My name's Frank.” He pointed at himself when he said it which looked kind of dumb, but Frank really wasn't coherent enough to care.. “You know where to find me.”

Gee grinned. “Yeah.”

After that not even the woman who ordered a slice of marble loaf and then stood there, insisting Frank pick a piece from dead center of the loaf, could ruin Frank's mood.




Then, after three weeks of Gee coming in regularly and flirting with Frank shamelessly, he just suddenly stopped coming in. Leaving behind a mopey and confused Frank.

“He was here for, like, twenty minutes last week,” Frank complained to Ray. “If he didn't like me, why did he hang aound so long?”

“I'm sure he liked you,” Ray mumbled, not really wanting to have this conversation.

“Then why haven't I seen him since, huh? He has class next door nearly every day and he's always in here before then--”

“Frank?”

“--and sometimes after if he has that seminar, so why hasn't--”

“FRANK!”

The entire store stilled and a number of customers turned towards Ray to see what was going on. Ray bashfully waved to the customers before glaring at Frank and hissing, “it's the first week in December, idiot. The semesters over. He's probably just gone home.”

Frank felt both comforted and crushed at the same time. “Break is what, a week?”

“A month.”

“Fuck.” Frank groaned and hit his head, hard, on the counter top next to the cash register. “I didn't even get his number!”

Ray awkwardly patted Frank on top of the head. “Um...there, there.”

Frank flew up straight, dislodging Ray's hand. “What do I do?”

“I don't know.” Ray thought for a moment. “But you know who might?”




Brendon and Frank were never scheduled to work the same shift if Patrick could help it. It wasn't that they were bad people, or poor workers, so much as when they worked together there was a whole lot of singing and excited babbling and full body coffee making that usually wound up costing the company money and giving Patrick a very big headache. That weekend, Ray had Frank cover one of his shifts so Frank and Brendon would work together and Frank would have the opportunity to pump the younger boy for ideas to solve Frank's romantic dilemma.

“What made you think I'd know the answer?” Brendon asked. He was making himself a mocha frappuchino with a shot of pumpkin and raspberry added to it. Brendon liked to experiment with his drinks. Patrick had taken one look at the newest caffeine monstrosity and disappeared into the back to rummage around for the aspirin.

“You have a boyfriend,” Frank said. Spencer worked at the book store two blocks away and was a music major, along with Brendon, at the art school.

“This is true.”

“And, you've seen, like, every romantic comedy ever made.”

Brendon beamed as he put easily half a bottle of whipped cream on top of his finished frappuchino. “Also true.”

“Therefore you are the master,” Frank reasoned. He watched Brendon take a sip of his towering sugar concoction and Frank's stomach clenched a little in agony. “So, er, you wanna help me or what?”

Brendon grinned and pat Frank on the head. “Oh Frank. Dear, dear, Frank.”

“Is this a yes?”

“Sing with me!”

“This better be a yes.”

They sang, Brendon spilled most of his pumpkin-raspberry-mocha-thing on himself and the floor, and when Patrick ordered them both to take a break lest he murder them with a bundle of wooden stirring sticks, Brendon agreed to do everything he could to help Frank.




“Craigslist? This is your big plan?”

Brendon huffed and looked vaguely insulted. “Fine. Mock my plan. Then I won't help you find your lost coffee love--”

“I'm sorry, okay?” Frank rolled his eyes. They were sitting in a far corner of the Starbucks, Brendon's laptop open on the table between them. “It's just...you think this will really work?”

“Artistic types love craigslist,” Brendon reasoned. “Spencer bought this new snare from this hippie guy who lives off of second and Bainbridge by answering an add here. I sold loads of my old text books, too. Oh! And this one time--”

“Alright, I believe you!” Frank turned the computer so it was facing him. “So what should I say?”

Brendon grinned and Frank may have heard him cackle, but he wasn't sure. “Oh, leave that to me.”




Lonely Barista
Seeks Gee,
Loyal Customer
Who Shoplifted His Heart
Stop by the Starbucks at Broad
Mondays, Wednesday and Fridays 12pm – Close




“Are you Lonely Barista?”

Patrick blinked at the girl, who looked to be about sixteen and had purple ribbon braided into her hair. Behind the bar, Frank choked on his own laughter.

“I'm sorry, what?”

“I'm Genevieve!” She thrust her hand out to Patrick, who took it and awkwardly stared down at it, not sure what to do. “I was in here last week with my friends? I go to the High School for Performing Arts and I ordered a mint mocha and I thought we had a connection, you know? And then I saw the add on craigslist and I KNEW it had to be you and you were talking to ME--”

“Um, look I just...make coffee and,” Patrick stammered, taking a large step back away from the counter. “I have NO idea what you're talking about.”

“Oh.” Gen pouted and Frank swore she was about to burst into tears. “I thought. I. I'm sorry. I just. Made a complete FOOL out. Of. Myself.”

And then she WAS crying and Patrick looked so panicked Frank had to jump in a try to fix it, since it was kind of his fault to begin with. A penguin cookie, a hug and a free mint mocha later and Gen was returning to a table full of her friends. She wasn't exactly happy, but she wasn't crying either.

Frank looked at Patrick, who still seemed kind of shell shocked. “You okay?”

Patrick sighed and untied his apron. “I'm going on my ten. Call me if the store burns down.”




After Patrick's run in with Gen, Frank decided they needed a screening process. Just so if there were more crazies, they wouldn't all assume Frank or whoever else was on the floor was Lonely Barista.

“Hi,” an older man with graying hair near his temples said, approaching the counter. “I saw this add in craigslist, and--”

“Lonely Barista isn't here right now,” Frank said, holding up a tape recorder and pressing record. “Please leave a message at the beep.”

“Beep!” Brendon shouted from the bar.

The man turned on his heel and promptly fled the store.

“Wuss,” Brendon muttered.

“It doesn't matter,” Frank sighed, turning the recorder off. “He wasn't Gee. None of them have been Gee.”

“I'm sorry, Frank,” Brendon said, patting Frank on the back. “Let me make you a chai. It'll cheer you up.”

Frank didn't feel much like being cheered up, but with Brendon smiling hopefully at him, Frank couldn't say no.

“Yeah, alright.”

Brendon grinned and hopped to it, collecting the ingredients for Frank's chai. “You coming to the holiday party next week?”

“I have to, don't I?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Then I'll be there.”




It turned out the holiday party was also an unveiling of some new art pieces Starbucks had chosen to feature from students at the art school. The result was even more people were crammed into the tiny Starbucks, which did nothing to improve Frank's mood. Frank grabbed a chai latte and a cookie from one of the brightly colored trays and secluded himself at a table in the back.

“Frank, are you moping?” Brendon stood with his hands on his hips, glaring down at Frank.

“Uh, no?”

“Lies,” Brendon scoffed and flicked Frank's forehead.

“Ow!”

Frank heard a second voice laugh and he looked up to spot Spencer. “Hey Frank,” Spencer said, offering a small wave.

“Hey,” Frank smiled. Then he saw the sweaters Spencer and Brendon were wearing and his smile widened. “Matching sweaters?”

Spencer looked pained but Brendon just grinned. “Aren't they awesome?”

Frank shook his head and glanced at Spencer. “The things you'll do for love, huh?”

Spencer snorted. “You have no idea.”

Brendon soon dragged Spender off to investigate the karaoke machine and Frank, recognizing that Brendon had a point in that he was, in fact, moping, stood up and started to look at the new art hanging around the store.

He stopped in front of a painting of a wicked, dark and stormy twister. Standing in front of the twister was a modern day Dorothy, her blue and white checkered dress traded in for a motorcycle jumpsuit. She'd chained herself to a tree and was glaring up at the twister as if daring it to tear her from Kansas and thrust her into Oz.

Frank smiled at the painting and looked down at the index card sized paper taped to the wall beneath it's frame that announced the name of the piece as: Refusing The Journey and the author as one Gerard Way.

“Like it?”

Frank turned and felt his throat close up instantly when he saw it was his Gee, the right Gee, standing there. He was wearing a dark dress shirt with a gray sweater vest over top and looked the same as he had the last time Frank had seen him.

Frank nodded once he regained his senses. “It's yours?”

“Yup,” Gee, GERARD, took a step closer to Frank. They stood there for a long moment, both of them looking at the painting.

Frank swallowed, hard, before asking, “so why didn't you respond to my add?”

Gerard frowned. “What add?”

“The one I put in craigslist? Lonely Barista?” Frank could see plainly from Gerard's face he really had no idea what Frank was talking about.

“What's craigslist?” Gerard asked, confused.

Frank laughed. “Um, okay. You have to give me your phone number, please? I'd say so we could get some coffee some time but I work at a coffee shop so I'd much rather see a movie or get some dinner or just, you know, talk or make out or something.”

Gerard grinned as he pulled out his cell phone and a rumpled receipt from his pocket. He quickly scrawled his number on the receipt and pushed it into Frank's hand. “Call me and I'll program you into my phone.”

Frank did so and made sure to add Gerard to his contacts as Gerard, rather then Gee. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Gerard pocketed his phone again and let his hand drift towards Frank's. “You know, I thought about asking you out before I left. I chickened out at the last minute. Man, I kicked myself the whole way back to Jersey.”

Frank just grinned. “I'm from Jersey.”




THREE MONTHS LATER


It was just starting to get warm again outside, which was awesome, but also kind of an added pain in the ass for Frank who now, due to the nice weather, had a new set of tables outside to check for trash and or hooligans every fifteen minutes. He swept his gaze across the collection of tables littering the sidewalk on Broad and, satisfied they were all clean and free of loiterers, walked back inside.

He walked back around the counter and took up his regular spot on bar. Patrick was at the cash register and Ray was in the back doing dishes. The door to the shop opened and Frank looked up. When he saw it was Gerard who had walked inside, portfolio slung over one shoulder, unlit cigarette in his mouth, Frank grinned.

“Hey Patrick, can I take my ten?”

Patrick looked up and he too saw Gerard. “Fine. But it better really be ten or so help me, I'll let Ray at you two with a fire extinguisher.”

“Yeah, okay.” Frank scooped up Gerard's usual order, which he'd made a few minutes earlier in anticipation, and walked over to his boyfriend. “Hey babe.”

“Hey!” Gerard took the latte before kissing Frank hello which Frank was good enough to forgive him for. “You on break?”

“Yeah, come on, let's be vagabonds and hang all over the porch furniture.”

Frank tugged Gerard outside and the two of them settled into chairs that Frank pushed close together so his knees were brushing against Gerard's.

“How was class?” Frank asked.

“Fine, they liked that piece I showed you yesterday with the scraps of tissue paper.”

“That one's awesome.”

“Yeah.” Gerard laughed. “Oh! And Brandon totally monopolized the lecture in our anthropology class today. I don't think the professor got two words in edge wise. The whole class was so pissed.”

Frank chuckled and pat Gerard's hand. “Avoid electives with Brendon in them next time, then.”

“You kidding? I thought it was hysterical.”

Frank shook his head. He untied the apron from around his waist and slung it over his chair. He quickly vaulted out of his chair and settled in Gerard's lap. “Hi.”

“Hello there,” Gerard said, grinning. He settled his arms around Frank's waist. “We still on for movies tonight?”

“Yeah, definitely.” Frank waited until Gerard had taken a sip of his latte before swooping in for a kiss. Gerard mumbled something in shock but it was lost against Frank's lips. After a second Gerard's mouth opened in response and they sank against each other, the kiss growing deeper.

“You couldn't have waited until I swallowed the coffee?” Gerard asked, coughing a little when Frank finally let him up for air.

“Nah,” Frank smirked and nuzzled at the side of Gerard's neck. “I like how it tastes.”

“Hmm. How does it taste?”

Frank chuckled. “Like coffee with notes of vanilla and an underlying hint of Gerard.”

Gerard just laughed and pulled him in for another taste.