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#28 / Brew A New Cup
Prompt #: 28
Author: anonymous
Title: Brew A New Cup
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2,302
Summary: “Babe,” Lu Han murmurs. “You know what we should do? We should open a coffeeshop.”
Warning(s): drunken life choices
A/N: Aaah, Hansoo, my precious ship. I wish I could have written you porn but instead I wrote floofy crack, which is almost as good. Thank you to everyone who participated and organized this and made it possible. To the original prompter: all coffee puns are bad puns, which means they are fantastic and I had to resist using them all. Happy new year everyone, may this tiny rowboat of a ship remain steady and seaworthy. ♡♡♡
“Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo. Soo. Sooooooooooo.”
Kyungsoo groans, turning so his face is muffled in the back of the couch. The coolness of the upholstery feels nice against his red face, but he can kind of smell the alcohol on his breath.
“Baaabe.” There’s a hand petting his hair, trying to be gentle and failing miserably. “Babe, come on, I got you water.” Oh right, water, that’s important. Kyungsoo clumsily rolls over and scooches up to prop himself against the armrest. He barely finishes the water before it gets taken from him and he suddenly has a lap full of Lu Han, stretched out along his body like a warm blanket and snuggling drunkenly into his neck.
Kyungsoo is so warm, and so comfortable, with his hot drunk boyfriend lying on him on their couch, breathing too hot on his neck but also kissing it a little. He just barely feels himself start to nod off, hand in Lu Han’s hair when Lu Han speaks up, muffled from his neck.
“Babe,” he murmurs. “You know what we should do? We should open a coffeeshop.” Kyungsoo hums absently, suddenly intent on rearranging Lu Han’s cowlick into something funny. “Really, we should. We can run it ourselves and save money on hiring people, and name it something creative and have open mic nights and promote local arts and serve good sweets for once.
“And best of all,” he grins, “we’d have the same schedule. No missed meals, no falling asleep alone.”
Fuck, that is a great idea. “That’s a great idea,” Kyungsoo says. “Fuck, Han, let’s do it.” The smile that lights up Lu Han’s face is one of his ugliest but also solidly in Kyungsoo’s top five favorite smiles. “You mean it?” he asks, and Kyungsoo nods, still petting at Lu Han’s hair. Lu Han’s eyes are glittering and his lips are pink and a little chapped, and his face is flushed with alcohol and his hair is all messed up but looks almost artful, like one of those idols. God, he’s pretty, and Kyungsoo doesn’t get to indulge enough.
“Great, now! Sleepy makeouts. Drunk sleepy makeouts,” Kyungsoo says, tugging Lu Han forward. Lu Han’s grin goes sly and he eagerly scooches closer, bending his head down to softly press his lips to Kyungsoo’s. He’s gentle as always, if a little sloppy tonight, and Kyungsoo easily allows Lu Han to tease his mouth open, but he quickly pulls back with a scoff. “You taste like cheap beer—” but Lu Han just shushes him and resumes nibbling aimlessly at Kyungsoo’s lower lip, and his protests die into low, pleased moans. His hands come up to curl lightly in Lu Han’s hair, clumsily running through the soft brown strands. Lu Han practically purrs into his mouth, grinning a little, and Kyungsoo shuffles awkwardly down to settle more comfortably into his boyfriend’s warmth.
“We should...probably...bedroom…” Lu Han murmurs in between kisses, and Kyungsoo shifts his leg to get up but gets distracted by sucking on Lu Han’s tongue and the noise he makes when Kyungsoo pulls a little at his hair. God, he loves making out. They should quit and do this all day instead.
They never make it to the bedroom, kisses slowing into absent mouthing as sleep and alcohol claim them. In the morning, Lu Han whines about the crick in his neck while Kyungsoo makes hangover soup and instant coffee, and they both forget about the night before.
*****
Or not.
Kyungsoo is watching bland Sunday morning TV, wrapped in the overly fluffy afghan Kyungsoo’s grandmother crocheted and clutching a cup of tea when Lu Han flops next to him, dropping a stack of papers on the coffee table.
“So,” he begins, “our coffeeshop. Let’s talk details.” Kyungsoo snorts out a laugh. When Lu Han doesn’t respond, Kyungsoo looks over.
“Holy shit,” he says after a moment, “you’re serious.”
“Of course I am,” Lu Han says, blinking. His brows crinkle a little. “Why wouldn’t I be? We talked about this. Are you not?”
“That was—” Kyungsoo rubs his nose, “two weeks ago—”
“So?”
“We were drunk, Lu Han.”
“Just because I’m drunk doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take my decisions seriously,” Lu Han pouts. Kyungsoo doesn’t say that that is exactly counter to how he has always operated around drunk Lu Han but he thinks his expression gets the message across.
“Regardless!” Lu Han coughs, “I’m serious now. We live near a university campus and a high school and an office park and yet there’s only one coffee shop within walking distance.” He gestures with the real estate ad. “This location is pretty close to the university and could be a good option. I have a few others here too, and they’re not super cheap but we have savings, and I’ve done the math and it’s totally possible—”
“Lu Han,” Kyungsoo says, a frantic edge to his voice, “neither of us knows how to make real coffee! Or bake!”
“You can cook!”
“It’s not the same!”
“We can learn!” When Kyungsoo merely sighs and rubs his nose again, Lu Han stands up with a huffed fine and goes back to the kitchen. There’s the sound of water running, and then Lu Han banging pots around louder than is strictly necessary.
Kyungsoo sits on the couch, tea burning his hands and turning sour in his mouth, staring blankly at the papers on the table. Lu Han really did put a lot of thought into this—there’s a printed excel budget with color codes and one comparing several different bank loan packages. Kyungsoo thinks about his cubicle, about the constantly jamming printer, about the late nights staring alternately between his screen and the pinned up pics of Lu Han and their friends and his parents, about the way his boss calls on the phone to avoid paper trails and says I know I can trust you, Mr. Do, about how often he mentally equates his silk necktie to a slowly tightening noose. He thinks about risk.
He thinks about these things very hard, for what feels like an eternity but in fact is just a long few minutes. He puts down his mug, picks up the real estate ad, and walks into the kitchen.
“Um,” he begins, and Lu Han grunts in acknowledgment, barely moving from washing dishes. “The old hair salon on 12th just went up for sale earlier this week. It’s equidistant from both schools and within a couple blocks of both the office park and the library.” He takes a breath. “It would be perfect for a coffeeshop.”
Lu Han stands there, hands dripping with suds, and has that look on his face, the one that makes him look like a surprised emoji and Kyungsoo wants to tell him that he looks ridiculous but this is important, so he holds his tongue.
“Really?”
Kyungsoo swallows, nods, smiles, feels his hand clench around the real estate ad. Feels a small swoop of vertigo. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”
Lu Han crows in delight and tugs Kyungsoo forward for a kiss that makes his insides swoop, instantly soaking his collar but Kyungsoo can’t seem to care. This time, they make it to the bedroom.
*****
“How about,” Lu Han pouts prettily, tapping his chin with a pen, “The Daily Grind.”
“Boring,” Kyungsoo yawns from where he’s lying on the floor, legs still hooked over the couch. They’ve been planning the design of their cafe for hours. He’s resorted to balancing his own pen on his nose to keep focused.
“Thanks a-Latte.”
“Ugh, no.”
“Livin’ La Vida Mocha.”
“Oh god, no.”
“Fine. Hm...Espresso Patronum!”
“Laaaaawsuit.”
“Oh damn. Uhm….Dejá Brew?”
Kyungsoo pauses, contemplating the pen tilting on his nose. “You know...I don’t hate it.” He waves his hand in the direction of Lu Han’s notebook. “Write that one down.” Lu Han does, and eyes the paper happily. “Dejá Brew. Alright, name down.” He turns the page.
“Now, color schemes.” Kyungsoo groans and rolls under the coffee table.
*****
Three Months Later
It’s a week and a half out before Deja Brew’s grand opening, and Lu Han and Kyungsoo are standing in front of their newly installed coffee machine.
“I still think we should hire someone,” Kyungsoo says as Lu Han climbs under the counter to plug the machine in. “I don’t think we can manage, just the two of us.”
“It’ll be fine, Soo,” Lu Han says. “We save money this way.” He fiddles with the plug under the counter and crawls back out. “Besides, look at this thing! It’s practically fully automated, it’s a total no-brainer. Watch.” He places a cup under the dispenser and puts his hand on what looks like a nozzle. “Just, pull this here, and…”
“Han,” Kyungsoo says, “I don’t think that’s—”
Lu Han shrieks in pain as steaming hot water shoots out over the cup and all over his hand. Kyungsoo screams too, but furiously denies it every time Lu Han tells the nurses in the emergency room. Lu Han claims it’s sweet. Kyungsoo says it’s embarrassing. “Same thing, babe,” Lu Han says, and kisses Kyungsoo’s cheek to much cooing from the nurse. Kyungsoo does not blush.
A few days, several employment ads and a neon green “NOW HIRING” sign later, a short kid in a backwards snapback and a Barcelona muscle tee walks in asking about the open barista position. He looks like he just walked out of the university gym, and is awfully pretty despite the bro aesthetic.
“We’re hiring him,” Lu Han whispers excitedly, eyeing the shirt and what Kyungsoo admits are some truly impressive guns, and lats, and...pecs. Wow. “He’s perfect.”
“He’s the first person to walk in,” Kyungsoo says, “and I’m pretty sure hiring based on looks is a sexual harassment violation or something.” Lu Han has the gall to look offended. “Who said I’m hiring based on looks, Soo? How dare you imply such a thing.” Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. “Let’s just go talk to him.”
“You’re hired,” Lu Han declares when they get to the table, hand outstretched. The kid stumbles a little from surprise, nearly faceplanting into his handshake. “Wait, what?”
“Han, no,” Kyungsoo says. “We need to at least ask some questions first.” He sighs, then turns to the kid. “Do you know how to operate a coffee machine?”
The kid blinks. “Um, yes? Didn’t you read my resum—”
“You’re hired.”
And that is how they hire Minseok Kim.
*****
It turns out Minseok is not a kid, he’s actually Lu Han’s age and nearing the end of a delayed stint at graduate school. He’s also the only person they manage to hire before the grand opening of Dejá Brew, and he’s made himself more than indispensable. He can indeed work a coffee machine, and while he’s not making caffeinated magic, he doesn’t injure himself turning it on, so Kyungsoo and Lu Han count it as a win.
There’s just one problem. Kyungsoo still can’t really bake. Even after months of practice, every scone ends up rock hard, every muffin collapses weirdly, and his one attempt at a fruit tart ended up with them both eating nothing but quickly ripening fruit for a week. (It was however, Lu Han noted, a good week for “flute blowing”).
The only thing he can make seems to be chocolate chip cookies, which actually turn out really nicely every time. So that’s what they stock the counter with, piles and piles of chocolate chip cookies. Kyungsoo quickly decides he will never eat another chocolate chip in his life.
And yet for some reason, between the cookies and mediocre coffee and the coffee pun of a name painted in curly letters across the window, Dejá Brew opens to literal crowds four months after that one drunken weekend. It’s enough that Kyungsoo and Lu Han are forced to hire another worker to deal with overload, and that’s how they hire Kris Wu, whose resume consisted mostly of ideas for sidewalk sandwich board decorations. Mediocre drawings but at this point Kyungsoo figures they’ve got a theme going.
Kris also turns out to be a great source of creative culinary inspiration. He encourages Kyungsoo to add macadamias to a batch of cookies and that week they gain about 2% more customers. Most recently, he’s been experimenting with ice cream sandwiches and Kyungsoo honestly can’t make cookies fast enough.
But despite this, despite the constant work, despite the stress of dealing with people and the irrationality caused by proximity to coffee, despite Minseok’s tendency to intentionally mishear people’s names, despite Kris’ daily close call with dishware, despite Lu Han periodically screaming at the register, despite Kyungsoo’s eternally floured state, and despite the constant fear of failure, Kyungsoo looks from the kitchen out at the cafe, looks at the carefully coordinated plush chairs, looks at that one handsome office worker finally relaxing into one of them, at the quiet dimpled musician composing behind a pile of cookies, at the three undergrads procrastinating by the window.
He looks at Minseok punching the air when he gets a latte heart right, at Kris awkwardly charming girls as he wipes tables. He looks at Lu Han, chatting with regulars—they have regulars!—and he feels...happy.
Lu Han glances back and catches his eye, and Kyungsoo must be smiling because Lu Han grins. There’s a break in the line and Lu Han leaves the register to walk over and wrap an arm around Kyungsoo’s shoulder. “Whatcha smiling about?” he asks.
Kyungsoo smiles, plants a kiss on Lu Han’s lips, and shakes his head at Lu Han’s pleasantly bemused look.
“Nothing. Just happy.” He fluffs Lu Han’s hair with his floured hand. “Get back to work.”
Author: anonymous
Title: Brew A New Cup
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2,302
Summary: “Babe,” Lu Han murmurs. “You know what we should do? We should open a coffeeshop.”
Warning(s): drunken life choices
A/N: Aaah, Hansoo, my precious ship. I wish I could have written you porn but instead I wrote floofy crack, which is almost as good. Thank you to everyone who participated and organized this and made it possible. To the original prompter: all coffee puns are bad puns, which means they are fantastic and I had to resist using them all. Happy new year everyone, may this tiny rowboat of a ship remain steady and seaworthy. ♡♡♡
“Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo. Soo. Sooooooooooo.”
Kyungsoo groans, turning so his face is muffled in the back of the couch. The coolness of the upholstery feels nice against his red face, but he can kind of smell the alcohol on his breath.
“Baaabe.” There’s a hand petting his hair, trying to be gentle and failing miserably. “Babe, come on, I got you water.” Oh right, water, that’s important. Kyungsoo clumsily rolls over and scooches up to prop himself against the armrest. He barely finishes the water before it gets taken from him and he suddenly has a lap full of Lu Han, stretched out along his body like a warm blanket and snuggling drunkenly into his neck.
Kyungsoo is so warm, and so comfortable, with his hot drunk boyfriend lying on him on their couch, breathing too hot on his neck but also kissing it a little. He just barely feels himself start to nod off, hand in Lu Han’s hair when Lu Han speaks up, muffled from his neck.
“Babe,” he murmurs. “You know what we should do? We should open a coffeeshop.” Kyungsoo hums absently, suddenly intent on rearranging Lu Han’s cowlick into something funny. “Really, we should. We can run it ourselves and save money on hiring people, and name it something creative and have open mic nights and promote local arts and serve good sweets for once.
“And best of all,” he grins, “we’d have the same schedule. No missed meals, no falling asleep alone.”
Fuck, that is a great idea. “That’s a great idea,” Kyungsoo says. “Fuck, Han, let’s do it.” The smile that lights up Lu Han’s face is one of his ugliest but also solidly in Kyungsoo’s top five favorite smiles. “You mean it?” he asks, and Kyungsoo nods, still petting at Lu Han’s hair. Lu Han’s eyes are glittering and his lips are pink and a little chapped, and his face is flushed with alcohol and his hair is all messed up but looks almost artful, like one of those idols. God, he’s pretty, and Kyungsoo doesn’t get to indulge enough.
“Great, now! Sleepy makeouts. Drunk sleepy makeouts,” Kyungsoo says, tugging Lu Han forward. Lu Han’s grin goes sly and he eagerly scooches closer, bending his head down to softly press his lips to Kyungsoo’s. He’s gentle as always, if a little sloppy tonight, and Kyungsoo easily allows Lu Han to tease his mouth open, but he quickly pulls back with a scoff. “You taste like cheap beer—” but Lu Han just shushes him and resumes nibbling aimlessly at Kyungsoo’s lower lip, and his protests die into low, pleased moans. His hands come up to curl lightly in Lu Han’s hair, clumsily running through the soft brown strands. Lu Han practically purrs into his mouth, grinning a little, and Kyungsoo shuffles awkwardly down to settle more comfortably into his boyfriend’s warmth.
“We should...probably...bedroom…” Lu Han murmurs in between kisses, and Kyungsoo shifts his leg to get up but gets distracted by sucking on Lu Han’s tongue and the noise he makes when Kyungsoo pulls a little at his hair. God, he loves making out. They should quit and do this all day instead.
They never make it to the bedroom, kisses slowing into absent mouthing as sleep and alcohol claim them. In the morning, Lu Han whines about the crick in his neck while Kyungsoo makes hangover soup and instant coffee, and they both forget about the night before.
*****
Or not.
Kyungsoo is watching bland Sunday morning TV, wrapped in the overly fluffy afghan Kyungsoo’s grandmother crocheted and clutching a cup of tea when Lu Han flops next to him, dropping a stack of papers on the coffee table.
“So,” he begins, “our coffeeshop. Let’s talk details.” Kyungsoo snorts out a laugh. When Lu Han doesn’t respond, Kyungsoo looks over.
“Holy shit,” he says after a moment, “you’re serious.”
“Of course I am,” Lu Han says, blinking. His brows crinkle a little. “Why wouldn’t I be? We talked about this. Are you not?”
“That was—” Kyungsoo rubs his nose, “two weeks ago—”
“So?”
“We were drunk, Lu Han.”
“Just because I’m drunk doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take my decisions seriously,” Lu Han pouts. Kyungsoo doesn’t say that that is exactly counter to how he has always operated around drunk Lu Han but he thinks his expression gets the message across.
“Regardless!” Lu Han coughs, “I’m serious now. We live near a university campus and a high school and an office park and yet there’s only one coffee shop within walking distance.” He gestures with the real estate ad. “This location is pretty close to the university and could be a good option. I have a few others here too, and they’re not super cheap but we have savings, and I’ve done the math and it’s totally possible—”
“Lu Han,” Kyungsoo says, a frantic edge to his voice, “neither of us knows how to make real coffee! Or bake!”
“You can cook!”
“It’s not the same!”
“We can learn!” When Kyungsoo merely sighs and rubs his nose again, Lu Han stands up with a huffed fine and goes back to the kitchen. There’s the sound of water running, and then Lu Han banging pots around louder than is strictly necessary.
Kyungsoo sits on the couch, tea burning his hands and turning sour in his mouth, staring blankly at the papers on the table. Lu Han really did put a lot of thought into this—there’s a printed excel budget with color codes and one comparing several different bank loan packages. Kyungsoo thinks about his cubicle, about the constantly jamming printer, about the late nights staring alternately between his screen and the pinned up pics of Lu Han and their friends and his parents, about the way his boss calls on the phone to avoid paper trails and says I know I can trust you, Mr. Do, about how often he mentally equates his silk necktie to a slowly tightening noose. He thinks about risk.
He thinks about these things very hard, for what feels like an eternity but in fact is just a long few minutes. He puts down his mug, picks up the real estate ad, and walks into the kitchen.
“Um,” he begins, and Lu Han grunts in acknowledgment, barely moving from washing dishes. “The old hair salon on 12th just went up for sale earlier this week. It’s equidistant from both schools and within a couple blocks of both the office park and the library.” He takes a breath. “It would be perfect for a coffeeshop.”
Lu Han stands there, hands dripping with suds, and has that look on his face, the one that makes him look like a surprised emoji and Kyungsoo wants to tell him that he looks ridiculous but this is important, so he holds his tongue.
“Really?”
Kyungsoo swallows, nods, smiles, feels his hand clench around the real estate ad. Feels a small swoop of vertigo. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”
Lu Han crows in delight and tugs Kyungsoo forward for a kiss that makes his insides swoop, instantly soaking his collar but Kyungsoo can’t seem to care. This time, they make it to the bedroom.
*****
“How about,” Lu Han pouts prettily, tapping his chin with a pen, “The Daily Grind.”
“Boring,” Kyungsoo yawns from where he’s lying on the floor, legs still hooked over the couch. They’ve been planning the design of their cafe for hours. He’s resorted to balancing his own pen on his nose to keep focused.
“Thanks a-Latte.”
“Ugh, no.”
“Livin’ La Vida Mocha.”
“Oh god, no.”
“Fine. Hm...Espresso Patronum!”
“Laaaaawsuit.”
“Oh damn. Uhm….Dejá Brew?”
Kyungsoo pauses, contemplating the pen tilting on his nose. “You know...I don’t hate it.” He waves his hand in the direction of Lu Han’s notebook. “Write that one down.” Lu Han does, and eyes the paper happily. “Dejá Brew. Alright, name down.” He turns the page.
“Now, color schemes.” Kyungsoo groans and rolls under the coffee table.
*****
Three Months Later
It’s a week and a half out before Deja Brew’s grand opening, and Lu Han and Kyungsoo are standing in front of their newly installed coffee machine.
“I still think we should hire someone,” Kyungsoo says as Lu Han climbs under the counter to plug the machine in. “I don’t think we can manage, just the two of us.”
“It’ll be fine, Soo,” Lu Han says. “We save money this way.” He fiddles with the plug under the counter and crawls back out. “Besides, look at this thing! It’s practically fully automated, it’s a total no-brainer. Watch.” He places a cup under the dispenser and puts his hand on what looks like a nozzle. “Just, pull this here, and…”
“Han,” Kyungsoo says, “I don’t think that’s—”
Lu Han shrieks in pain as steaming hot water shoots out over the cup and all over his hand. Kyungsoo screams too, but furiously denies it every time Lu Han tells the nurses in the emergency room. Lu Han claims it’s sweet. Kyungsoo says it’s embarrassing. “Same thing, babe,” Lu Han says, and kisses Kyungsoo’s cheek to much cooing from the nurse. Kyungsoo does not blush.
A few days, several employment ads and a neon green “NOW HIRING” sign later, a short kid in a backwards snapback and a Barcelona muscle tee walks in asking about the open barista position. He looks like he just walked out of the university gym, and is awfully pretty despite the bro aesthetic.
“We’re hiring him,” Lu Han whispers excitedly, eyeing the shirt and what Kyungsoo admits are some truly impressive guns, and lats, and...pecs. Wow. “He’s perfect.”
“He’s the first person to walk in,” Kyungsoo says, “and I’m pretty sure hiring based on looks is a sexual harassment violation or something.” Lu Han has the gall to look offended. “Who said I’m hiring based on looks, Soo? How dare you imply such a thing.” Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. “Let’s just go talk to him.”
“You’re hired,” Lu Han declares when they get to the table, hand outstretched. The kid stumbles a little from surprise, nearly faceplanting into his handshake. “Wait, what?”
“Han, no,” Kyungsoo says. “We need to at least ask some questions first.” He sighs, then turns to the kid. “Do you know how to operate a coffee machine?”
The kid blinks. “Um, yes? Didn’t you read my resum—”
“You’re hired.”
And that is how they hire Minseok Kim.
*****
It turns out Minseok is not a kid, he’s actually Lu Han’s age and nearing the end of a delayed stint at graduate school. He’s also the only person they manage to hire before the grand opening of Dejá Brew, and he’s made himself more than indispensable. He can indeed work a coffee machine, and while he’s not making caffeinated magic, he doesn’t injure himself turning it on, so Kyungsoo and Lu Han count it as a win.
There’s just one problem. Kyungsoo still can’t really bake. Even after months of practice, every scone ends up rock hard, every muffin collapses weirdly, and his one attempt at a fruit tart ended up with them both eating nothing but quickly ripening fruit for a week. (It was however, Lu Han noted, a good week for “flute blowing”).
The only thing he can make seems to be chocolate chip cookies, which actually turn out really nicely every time. So that’s what they stock the counter with, piles and piles of chocolate chip cookies. Kyungsoo quickly decides he will never eat another chocolate chip in his life.
And yet for some reason, between the cookies and mediocre coffee and the coffee pun of a name painted in curly letters across the window, Dejá Brew opens to literal crowds four months after that one drunken weekend. It’s enough that Kyungsoo and Lu Han are forced to hire another worker to deal with overload, and that’s how they hire Kris Wu, whose resume consisted mostly of ideas for sidewalk sandwich board decorations. Mediocre drawings but at this point Kyungsoo figures they’ve got a theme going.
Kris also turns out to be a great source of creative culinary inspiration. He encourages Kyungsoo to add macadamias to a batch of cookies and that week they gain about 2% more customers. Most recently, he’s been experimenting with ice cream sandwiches and Kyungsoo honestly can’t make cookies fast enough.
But despite this, despite the constant work, despite the stress of dealing with people and the irrationality caused by proximity to coffee, despite Minseok’s tendency to intentionally mishear people’s names, despite Kris’ daily close call with dishware, despite Lu Han periodically screaming at the register, despite Kyungsoo’s eternally floured state, and despite the constant fear of failure, Kyungsoo looks from the kitchen out at the cafe, looks at the carefully coordinated plush chairs, looks at that one handsome office worker finally relaxing into one of them, at the quiet dimpled musician composing behind a pile of cookies, at the three undergrads procrastinating by the window.
He looks at Minseok punching the air when he gets a latte heart right, at Kris awkwardly charming girls as he wipes tables. He looks at Lu Han, chatting with regulars—they have regulars!—and he feels...happy.
Lu Han glances back and catches his eye, and Kyungsoo must be smiling because Lu Han grins. There’s a break in the line and Lu Han leaves the register to walk over and wrap an arm around Kyungsoo’s shoulder. “Whatcha smiling about?” he asks.
Kyungsoo smiles, plants a kiss on Lu Han’s lips, and shakes his head at Lu Han’s pleasantly bemused look.
“Nothing. Just happy.” He fluffs Lu Han’s hair with his floured hand. “Get back to work.”