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Angel Coffee Co. was bustling. The 7:30 rush had started, and Peter was overloaded with work. Why couldn’t people make simple orders? Smoothies and blended drinks took an uncomfortable amount of time, and that’s all people seemed to be ordering.

Up until he came in. “Large iced black coffee, please. No sugar or cream, either.” The dark haired, tan skinned, brown eyed man ordered. Peter noted his Spanish accent.

“That might be the simplest thing I make today.” Peter joked, looking up at the man with a smile. “Can I get your name?” He asked, fishing out a plastic cup.

“Caspian.” The man smiled, his eyes darting down to the name tag on Peter’s chest.

“Well Caspian, it’ll be £3.50.” Peter smiled.

Caspian reached for a ten pound note. “Keep the change.”

Peter gawked as he wrote the name on the cup. That might have been the largest tip he’d ever gotten. “Thank you.” He managed to utter out.

Peter liked the graveyard shift. No one came in, besides uni students who were studying for upcoming exams, but that was only in winter and spring.

Tonight, no one had come in. Peter sat behind the counter, humming softly to Snow Patrol as it sounded over the speakers.

Then the bell sounded.

“Hi.” Caspian smiled as he approached the counter. “Large iced black coffee, please.” He beamed.

“It’s 9:30 at night, are you sure you need that much caffeine?” Peter snarkily replied.

“I have a stupid presentation due in the morning. I’ll need as much caffeine as I can get.” Caspian chuckled.

“What exactly do you for a living? I mean, I see you come in every morning with your designer suits, but you’re so young.” Peter asked, furrowing up his brow.

“I’m the London correspondent for my uncles company. It’s mostly business correspondence and marketing. Boring, really.” Caspian explained.

“Sounds boring.” Peter giggled as he shoveled ice into the cup.

“I’d rather work here.” Caspian grinned.

“Believe me, you don’t want to work here.” Peter smiled as he poured cold brew in over the ice. “So many people order their stupid blended drinks and it backs me up. I can’t stand it.”

“Well, aren’t you glad you have customers like me?” Caspian beamed.

“Very.” Peter replied, setting the drink down on the counter. “Can I get you a croissant or anything? It’s on the house.”

“Can I asked who made the croissants?” Caspian smiled.

“I did.” Peter grinned, his cheeks going red.

“I’ll take one.” Caspian replied as he slid a twenty pound note across the counter.

“That’s too much, and you know it.” Peter frowned, bagging up a croissant.

“Have a good night, Peter.” Caspian winked, grabbing his order and making a dash for it.

Peter wiped his eyes and took a deep breath. The customer in front of him had been berating him for five minutes straight. Peter wasn’t even the one who had made the smoothie. It was Jadis, his unfathomable coworker.

“Ma’am, just leave him be. It wasn’t his fault.” A sudden voice sounded.


Relief rushed over Peter as the woman left.

“Are you okay?” Caspian asked, a concerned expression falling over his face.

“‘M fine.” Peter mumbled. “The regular?” He asked Caspian.

“Yeah.” Caspian frowned.

Peter shakily made the order, before handing it off to Caspian. “Have a nice day.” He murmured.

He only saw the two twenty pound notes once Caspian had left.

It was live music night. Peter liked working those shifts. He only served alcohol, and the occasional latte.

He also got to hear good music.

And tonight was even better, because Caspian was there.

Peter stole glances whenever he could. Caspian sat with a group of friends. They all looked happy. Caspian looked happy.

That made Peter smile.

London was bustling by mid day, which meant the lunch rush was coming in. Peter had been steaming milk and pouring coffees for an hour, at least.

Luckily, Caspian had come in for lunch. “I’ll take a large black iced coffee and a panzanella salad, please.” He ordered.

“It’ll be right up.” Peter smiled.

“Before you make it, I’ve been thinking.” Caspian smiled, handing Peter four twenty pound notes.

“About?” Peter smiled, shoving the notes into the register.

“Why it’s named Angel Coffee.” Caspian smirked. “I think it’s because you’re some sort of living, breathing angel.”

“Oh.” Peter blushed.

The graveyard shift had ended, and Peter had locked the doors. He was humming softly to himself as he scrubbed down the countertops.

Then he heard the knock.

“We’re closed!” He squeaked, not bothering to look up.

The knock sounded again, so Peter looked up. It was Caspian.

Peter ran over to the door and opened it up.

Caspian rushed inside, and pressed his palms against Peter’s pink cheeks. “Can I kiss you?” He asked, the Spanish accent thick.

“Yes.” Peter whispered.

Caspian kissed him, the smiles not leaving either of their faces.