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Phil wiped the counter, humming softly to the song overhead. Wilbur’s days for playlists in the Pube were always catchy, and this one was especially nice.
He sighed. The shop was slow today, only a few of his regulars came in to visit. Bad and Skeppy had dropped off muffins for the whole family in exchange for a cold brew and vanilla frappe. Hannah had stopped by to chat with Niki for a few and grabbed her usual cherry- cream frappe. The kids had come and left- school for Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo got out earlier than the older boy’s, so he’d gone to pick them up and relaxed a bit with them. They’d closed shop for the afternoon and gone to see a movie.
Now he was back for the night shift, tired, sloppy- there were no customers in the shop at the moment, though, so he didn’t care. He dozed on the counter, head flat on the marble top. The calming love songs overhead soothed him enough that he dozed off… that’s the excuse he gave himself, anyway.
Not that he was exhausted or anything.
That’s also why he didn’t hear the tiny bell at the door ring.
And he didn’t hear the steps, or the tiny giggle-
A hand smacked the counter, and his head flew up, eyes now wide awake, head rushing- “WELCOME TO THE PUBE HOW MAY I- help you?”
~~~~
It had been one of those days.
One of those days where her coffee spilled first thing, all over her editorial page no less, and the assistant she normally relied on had the flu, and it rained hard, she didn’t have her umbrella- now her hair was soaked, her shirt was stained, and she was pretty sure that the pages she was supposed to be editing smelled very strongly of coffee.
So when she saw the small, cozy coffee shop situated on the corner of Dover and Grove, the sign ‘23/7 hour coffee & free wifi,’ gently lit by green and white, she headed straight in. despite the weird name.
It wasn’t that she hadn’t seen the shop before, she’d just been too busy to notice it. Her runs from office to office occupied all of her day, all day- even her nights, sometimes. She pushed open the door, grinning at the small tinkling bell that chimed overhead.
There was no one there, only a cashier, who was… asleep? She walked up to the counter, giggling at the soft snores coming from the blond- haired man. His little green and white striped visor hat was crooked- she fixed it a little, smiling when he shuffled, letting out a content sigh.
Someone walked out from the back, scowling. “Sorry, ma’am,” the man said, slamming his hand down on the counter next to the sleeping cashier. “WELCOME TO THE PUBE HOW MAY I-help you-” The man shot up, green eyes wide and panicked.
She giggled, the man brushing down his apron and sighing. The other one smacked him in the back of the head, shaking his head. “Phil, you gotta get enough rest,” he complained, resting his head on the shorter man’s shoulder. “Whatever. Are- what are you doing here?” ‘Phil,’ asked, scowling. His scowl was cute.
The other man shrugged. “Wilbur,” He breezed by, scooting over the counter and out the door. “Wilbur- oh prime, SCHLATT-” Phil sighed, head in hands. “Anyway. Sorry about the wait, ma’am-”
He looked at her, a flush coming over his face when he realized she’d heard the whole thing. “I’m so sorry about that. What would you like?”
She shrugged. “What’s the best you have?”
“Wil makes a really good cappuccino,” he shrugged. “And I can’t wake Tommy, but if you want a scone to go with that my other prize baker’s in the back making them.”
She nodded, taking out her card. “Can I have a name for the order?”
“Kristin,” She replied, swiping the card.
Phil nodded, muttering ‘Kristin,’ happily under his breath. She sat down, watching the man go back to the kitchen behind the bar, that cute flush still on his face.
She pulled out her paperwork, sighing as she got out the ever- present purple pen holding her bun up. Her dark hair fell past her shoulders, the wet strands clingy and annoying.
“Kristin?” a small pink- haired girl scurried out from behind the counter, holding a tray with two wonderful- looking, piping hot, scones.
“Yes!” She cheered, the girl smiling happily as she set the plate down.
“Um- do you need a hair tie?” the girl asked shyly, pulling one off her wrist and handing it to her. Kristin took it, surprised. “Thank you,” She tied her hair up, biting into a scone.
Oh. my. GOD.
She sat back in her chair, eyes wide. The girl giggled. “Phil’s scone recipe does that to people,” she said, nodding.
“Well tell him thank you for me!” Kristin nodded. “And my compliments to his prize baker!”
The girl smiled. “I’ll tell him! Thanks!” she disappeared behind the counter, humming happily to herself. Phil came out just as she was going in, the girl stopping to whisper something to him and give him a sweet kiss on the cheek before hanging her apron up and disappearing round the back.
Kristin took another mouth watering bite as she watched Phil out of the corner of her eye. He was cleaning up, it seemed. His sweater sleeves were rolled up, long- ish blonde hair tied up as he wiped the counter down. The half- apron he had on was tied with a cute little bow in the back, a charm of some sort dangling from the tie. She put her head on a hand, tired of holding it up while she watched.
Phil spotted her, the flush over his face growing redder as they stared at each other, stark emerald green meeting dark as night brown before he looked away, clearing his throat.
“That was my daughter,” he said awkwardly, “that just walked out.”
~~~~
Holy. Fuck.
An angel.
That was the first thought that had come into his head. Well, first it was AHSKSHSKEBSKHDIXKSBRKSIJIHJUKSADFGL - and then the holy fuck part.
Because wow.
Wow, you know? Wow.
She was… well, her makeup was running. But Phil couldn’t stop looking at her-
He practically FELT his face melt off. And then his brain cleared, and he snapped back to business mode- but he couldn’t stop thinking about how nice her voice was, or the dimples in her cheeks… damn.
Phil cleared his throat, noticing those deep eyes on him. “Th- that was my daughter,” he said awkwardly, wiping his hands on the towel that was clenched in them a minute ago. “That just walked out.”
Kristin- prime , that was such a pretty name, it suited her so well- nodded. “She’s lovely,” she answered, setting down her pen. It was purple. Odd color for a pen.
“Yeah,” Phil chuckled. “She made the scones.”
“Your recipe, though,” Kristin bit into hers, her soft lips- stop thinking about her lips, Phil - curling into a content smile. “She told me.”
“Oh.”
Really, Phil? All you can think of is ‘oh?”
“Is there normally no one here at 11pm?” Kristin asked.
“Uh- n-not normally, no.” He said, wiping an old spilled coffee stain off. He'd have to talk to Charlie again about spilling things. It was getting out of hand.
Kristin made a mark in her papers with the purple pen. She sipped her cappuccino, humming along to the soft music. Phil let himself relax, moving to a spot where he knew she couldn’t see him.
He took his apron off and took a deep breath, trying to calm his mind.
“You okay Phil?” George’s voice asked. Phil jumped. “Yeah! Yeah. I'm fine.”
“You’ve been working all day, haven’t you?” George sighed, pulling the apron out of Phil’s hands. “Not all day,” Phil protested. “Just most of it.”
“Phil. Go home.” George said, tying Phil’s apron around his waist. “No one comes at like 4am. And Techno will be here in like five minutes.”
Phil sighed. “There’s someone in there, though-“
“WhO!?” George peeked out, frowning.
“Late night straggler. Her name is Kristin,” Phil hummed, smiling that stupid smile- he stopped, clapping his hands over his mouth.
“You alright?” George asked, raising a brow.
“Fine,” Phil cleared his throat, forcing the goofy grin down and taking his hair out of it’s usual ponytail to redo it.
“I’m starting on croissants.” George rolled his eyes, smiling fondly when Phil ruffled his hair and went back to the storage closet. “We’re going to need more tartes, too.”
“I’ll make those!” Techno said, walking into the storage closet and putting his head down on Phil’s shoulder for a moment. Phil chuckled. “Rough day?”
“The worst,” The English major groaned, pulling preserved cherries from the shelf and grabbing the flour. “I hate all my classes.”
“Ahw, Mate,” Phil hummed sympathetically. “I thought you liked the Greek history one.”
“I hate writing papers.” Techno grumped, rolling his white sleeves up and putting his pink hair back in a sleek bun.
“L.” George teased, elbows- deep in croissant dough. The doorbell jingled, Phil knowing instantly who it was even though their head barely hit the counter. “Why’re you up, Boo?” he asked gently, ruffling the hair of the small boy who came running straight into his legs.
“Nightmare,” Boo muttered, hiding his face in phil’s oversized green sweatshirt.
~~~~
The kid had come out of nowhere, breezing right by her. He was still in his PJ’s- Phil scooped him up, cooing over the child, who hid his face in the man’s shoulder.
Kristin marked another error on her paper, sighing. She was out for the night. Her cappuccino was long gone, the scones gone even before that.
She checked her watch- 4:37am.
Damn. Work in two hours.
She got up, pulling the ponytail from her hair. Phil came out of the back, the kid still attached to his hip, and grabbed a muffin, giving it to the child and murmuring quietly.
“Excuse me?” She went up, Phil practically jumping out of his skin. “OH! Oh. Hi. yes-”
“This is your daughter’s. She lent it to me,” Kristin said, handing him the ponytail. “Will you tell her thank you for me?” She turned to go, sighing as she looked out at the still- pouring sky.
“I- uh. Yes! Yes of course. Um. did- it’s still raining outside…” Phil muttered, putting the child down and grabbing an umbrella out from under the counter. “Here.” He walked it over to her, the black and green umbrella offered in an outstretched hand.
Kristin blinked. “Thanks,” she said, surprised. “I’ll return it.”
“No need,” Phil flushed, looking away. “I don’t need it.”
Kristin shrugged. “It’s a good excuse to come back,” she said, waving goodbye and heading out into the rain.
~~~~
“Bye…” Phil whispered, waving to her back as she headed out into the silvery rain, his umbrella open over her head. He turned around, scooping Ranboo up and avoiding thoughts about how flushed his face was-
George peeked out from behind the counter- “are you SIMPING ?!?!?!??!?!” he yelled, startling Techno.
“Wh- WHAT?! No! No-” Phil protested, face growing somehow redder as he busied himself with cleaning up her table.
“He’s totally simping, look at his face.” George teased, pulling Techno over to see. “My tarts-” Techno whined, huffing at how red Phil’s face was. “You ARE simping. You look like a tomato.”
“Techno. Make your tarts.” Phil huffed, sending Ranboo away with Kristin’s cappuccino cup and plate.
“You might have a new mum soon, Ranboo!” George teased, poking the boy as he scurried by. Ranboo rolled his eyes.
“Don’t say that,” Phil muttered, pushing past him. “It’s not like she’d notice me-”
“SIMP! YOU’RE A SIMP!”
~~~~