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The cafe is closed. All the appliances are clean, chairs are up on the tables, the floor is swept, the sign on the door is turned. Ashe is standing behind the counter beginning to regret not accepting Mercedes’ offer to stay behind. Because by being alone in his cafe, Ashe is also alone with his thoughts.
A month ago, Ashe had met with “the coffee guy”, as Ashe had thought of him at the time. The coffee guy had walked Ashe through acquiring the necessary equipment and knowledge for roasting his own coffee beans for the cafe. During their time together, Ashe had grown enamored with the coffee guy’s smooth baritone of a voice, the sleeves of his black shirt rolled up past his elbows, the way his wavy dark hair partially obscured one piercing eye— and many other things that continued to eat away at Ashe even after coffee guy had left.
Now, Ashe stands alone in his cafe with thoughts clogging his head and nerves knotting his stomach, waiting for Hubert.
A knock on the glass front door makes Ashe jump. “C-Coming!” He calls, already rushing forward. He fumbles for his keys, drops them, lets out a noise not unlike a squeak as he picks them up again, and finally unlocks the door.
Hubert von Vestra steps inside. “Good evening,” he says. “Thank you again for agreeing to meet so late. You likely would have preferred to get home after a full day’s work.”
“It’s no trouble!” Ashe assures as he shuts the door again. There’s a flutter in his chest at the idea of Hubert being worried over him— but he forces it down. Hubert is just being polite. Nothing to look into. Still, Ashe clears his throat before gesturing towards the kitchen. “I have a pot ready just back here.”
Nodding, Hubert follows. He asks a few questions as Ashe leads them around the counter— is everything working alright, did the vendors he’d recommended give Ashe any trouble, had there been a notable increase in coffee sales; all put forth in a purely business tone that settles Ashe’s nerves. He tries to answer each question just as succinctly, but finds himself growing excited to show off how much Hubert’s guidance has helped the cafe.
“It wasn’t cheap to get all the equipment you listed but you did warn me about that. Honestly, the most handy thing is the roasted bean chart.” Ashe points out the poster on the far end of the kitchen, which lists roasting times and coffee types next to the corresponding color of the coffee bean.
Hubert chuckles. “Yes, I thought you might enjoy that.”
“You did?”
“Many beginners find the visual aid useful. And pictures of food or drink fit in well among most cafe decor.”
Oh. So, he hadn’t been thinking of Ashe specifically . Fending off disappointment, Ashe pulls down a mug. “So!” He tries to sound casual. “What do you do besides this? Mercedes’ friend who recommended you— Ferdinand, I think? He mentioned you had a full time job apart from coffee consultations.”
This time when Hubert laughs, his smile sticks around. “Coffee consultations. How poetic. I might have to use that from now on.”
Ashe feels his face flush. “W-Well what did you call them before?”
“I didn’t call them anything, really. As you said, this isn’t how I make my living. These sorts of visits are more like… paid favors than anything formal.”
“Do you get many other “paid favors” then?”
“A few. Much as I hate to admit it, a good many of them come from Ferdinand. He tends to encourage his friends’ dreams and then sends me in to tether them back to reality. At least most of them take my advice.”
Ashe pours the coffee slowly, counting in his head so he doesn’t overflow the cup. “It sounds like you two are pretty close then, if he has that much faith in you.”
Hubert hums. “We certainly get along better than we did in our youth. In this particular instance, however, I believe it’s his infatuation with Mercedes that sent me here, not his faith.”
The thunk as Ashe sets the coffee pot on the counter is embarrassingly loud but doesn’t daunt his relief. Ferdinand has feelings for Mercedes . That’s nice. Wonderful, even. Grinning, Ashe turns, coffee in hand. “Here you go!” He holds out the mug.
When Hubert takes it, their fingers briefly overlap, causing sparks to jump across Ashe’s hands. There. The hard part is over. Now all that’s left is to accept Hubert’s judgment. Customers have been complimenting Ashe all month over the improvement in the cafe’s coffee, but something about seeing his coffee meet Hubert’s lips causes Ashe to doubt every word. He tenses, watching Hubert swirl the mouthful before allowing it down his throat, mentally going over each step and where he could have gone wrong—
“Delicious.”
Ashe stands straighter. “Really?”
“Indeed.” Hubert takes another sip, pleased expression backing up his words. “I’m glad to see you were paying attention during my last visit.”
“You’re a great teacher! Why wouldn’t I have paid attention?” Ashe is sure his smile looks ridiculous but he can’t make himself contain it.
“You’d be surprised. I once helped this woman open a fish themed cafe, of all things. She utterly failed to—”
A sharp tone interrupts Hubert. He scowls darkly and sets down the mug to pull his phone from his pocket. Ashe, his proud beaming dulled somewhat, watches Hubert glare at the words on screen. “Is something wrong?” Ashe asks after a moment.
Hubert clicks the phone off with a sigh. “Yes, apparently. Idiots from my full time job are being idiotic.” He aims an apologetic smile at Ashe. “I’ll have to cut this short, I’m afraid. But you are doing fine work here. I admire how much progress you have made in such a short time.” He turns for the kitchen exit. “I still want to examine your equipment so I shall contact you to set up another meeting soon.”
“Wait— let me put that in a travel cup for you.” Ashe grabs a paper cup and lid, trying not to let his emotions rule his face. It’s work related. Hubert isn’t running out on him because of his coffee. Ashe pushes away his ugly feelings and concentrates on transferring the coffee correctly. He slips the cardboard holder around it before turning to Hubert and holding it out.
He finds Hubert staring at him. The phone still in Hubert’s hand beeps again, but he doesn’t look down at it. When Hubert takes the cup this time, his fingers seem to linger over Ashe’s, and Ashe feels heat bloom in his chest.
“I am sorry, Ashe.” The words are said in such a mournful tone that Ashe doesn’t doubt for a moment that he means it.
“It’s alright.”
“No, it isn’t. And after you stayed late to accommodate my schedule…”
“It’s fine, really.” Ashe forces a smile. “You wouldn’t leave if it wasn’t important. If you’re telling the truth about my coffee, then I can wait until next time to have a proper meeting.”
Hubert snorted. “I wouldn’t lie about coffee , especially to someone who learned the craft from me.”
Ashe laughs. What a strange man. What an endearing, handsome, strange man.
The pair step out into the cafe. Ashe intends to walk Hubert to the door, but stops when Hubert plants his feet and turns to face him. “Have you ever heard of Nuvelle Ménage?”
The question is as perplexing as it is random. “I’ve never been but I’ve read all about it. This blogger I follow, Savoring Mockingbird, has nothing but good things to say about the pastries.” Ashe leaves off that the bakery is too far out of his price range to even justify walking by the window display.
“I helped the owner with her coffee before it opened. She lets me cut through the lines,” Hubert says. His voice is full of intention, not boast, but Ashe still can’t read what he’s actually trying to say.
“That’s… lucky?”
“Would you like to come with me some time? It would be my treat, of course.”
Ashe almost takes a step back with shock. “T-That’s too much. You don’t have to do that just to apologize!”
“Then we can consider it a date instead.”
Ashe’s whole body tenses. His own heartbeat takes over his eardrums, blocking out all sound for a second. With effort, Ashe nods. “Sure,” he says evenly. Somehow. “That sounds nice.”
Hubert’s smile is relief and surprise all at once. “Good. I will speak with you soon to set a time and date. I like to let Constance know when I plan on coming by.”
“Makes sense.” Ashe’s heartbeat is still distractingly loud. He can’t even tell if he’s happy at being asked out or not— mostly he’s trying to determine if this is real.
The phone rings. Hubert’s glares at it again before nodding to Ashe and lifting the coffee in thanks. Then he’s putting the phone to his ear, taking quick strides to the door. “Someone better be dead, Volkhard, or this badgering isn’t worth my time…”
It’s the last thing Ashe hears before the cafe door clicks shut. And he’s alone with his thoughts once again.
Except— now those thoughts are giddy. His stomach isn’t tied in knots, but teeming with butterflies. Hubert likes his coffee. Hubert wants to treat him to expensive food. Hubert doesn’t have a thing for Ferdinand. Hubert wants to see Ashe outside of a coffee consultation. Hubert wants to see Ashe .
Ashe practically floats back to the kitchen to wash Hubert’s abandoned mug, humming nonsense. He can’t wait to tell Mercedes about this tomorrow. And to thank her profusely for introducing him to the coffee guy.