#i pity whoever has to get the starbucks order for that meeting

[in-maidjan]

to celebrate the fact that i managed to prepare for the next dadnd session in a week while working and organising some other stuff - the mood of the leaders of orlais convening to talk about the very bad no good party at chateau de sorre:

[the-amazing-spider-bi]

the coffeeshop au no one asked for (now with a part 2)

“So, May, what do you want?” Madison asks the customer.

“That’s not even close to my name,” the other girl says, but she grins anyway. Weirdo. “One Iced Coffee for Zoe, with a little caramel twirl thingie, please.”

“Sure, Zack,” Madison says, and grabs her cup with a little more strength than necessary. Zoe snorts. She probably has some sort of insult kink. She and Kyle are going to have the worst sex ever.

(In which Madison does not have a crush on the cute hipster girl who keeps coming to the coffee shop, she and Kyle are definitely not competing for the girl’s attention, Cordelia thinks they are all model employees, and all of the above is a lie.)

Read on ao3 I Following prompts by origami-teacup 

october.

“He fucking folded her napkin as a rose, and then gave her to her and said, I’m sorry, I didn’t have time to buy you flowers,” Madison groans before she kicks an unfortunate plastic cup which has absolutely nothing to do with this.

“Wow, the guy has got so much more game than you,” Queenie says, and Madison snarls at her, the bitch.

They’re sitting in the back alley behind the coffee shop, Madison being on trash duty again. (At Coven Café, waitresses get to throw the trash out every time they’re uncivil to a customer. Obviously, that means Madison gets stuck with it every night.)

(She should have stayed at fucking Starbucks.)

Anyway, they’re sitting on the bench in the smelly, gross back alley. Like every bit of having a service job when you hate pretty much everyone you meet, it sucks, but at least here no one is bothering them. It’s not even six p.m. yet, and already the sun is setting behind the city buildings and lamp posts are lighting out all over town. Queenie tightens up her coat while texting whoever she’s dating this week. Madison is smoking through a pack of cigarettes she only got yesterday to keep warm, because she wore her sluttiest skirt to work today, for reasons totally unrelated to the cute quiet girl who keeps coming back to the coffee shop every afternoon, of course. (According to Queenie, if Madison quit smoking, she could probably leave C.C. altogether and survive on her acting gigs, but what do you want, a girl loves her bad decisions.)

“He’s so fucking lame. How long do you think he spent last night watching Youtube napkin-folding tutorials? Like, god, Kyle, way to show her how gay you are.”

“Yeah sure, Madison. Hey, by the way, I like your new outfit, how much money did you spend on that?” Queenie asks.

“Shut up, it’s completely different,” Madison says. She did not buy these clothes to impress the cute girl, because that would be ridiculous and pathetic, just like she does not think about how the girl’s hair looks like liquid honey when the sun shines on it through the window, or how pretty her dimples are when she laughs open-mouthed at one of Kyle’s bad lines, or how much better her lips look when she smirks at Madison’s snide comments.

“Of course.”

Madison keeps up the sullen silence though, before Queenie sighs, finally pockets her phone and says, “You know what would help your situation?”

“Hum, hello, did I ask for your dumb advice?”

“If you actually showed her how gay you are,” Queenie says. “Also maybe - maybe -  stop insulting her.”

“Hard pass,” Madisons says, and she throws her cigarette butt to the ground, crushes it under her heel, and leaves with a brisk pace.

“Bitch, just because you’re Los Angeles trash doesn’t mean the street is too!” Queenie yells at her retreating back. Madison doesn’t even turn around when she gives her the finger.

Queenie sighs.

november.

When she clocks in today, Kyle is already here, leaning on his elbows pressed against the wooden counter, flirting with her. Her, who leans on her elbows too, close to him, chuckles and blushes and hides her face behind chestnut brown hair.

Madison rolls her eyes and hip checks him as she goes by. “Go away, you’re not even paid for these extra hours.”

“Maybe I just really love making coffee,” he says. “Model employee, three months running, yay.”

When the girl smiles up at him, she crinkles her eyes. Madison pretends to gag.

“What a nerd,” she complains when his back is turned to fiddle with the coffee machine or whatever. “I swear to god, it’s like working with an overexcited puppy. He’s that close to pissing all over our hardwoods.”

“I think he’s nice,” the cute girl says. “I mean, isn’t that the whole point of independent coffee shops? Having friendly waiters, not being rushed by twenty people who want their Venti Caramel Macchiato?”

“Nah, the whole point is attracting all of you lame hipsters who want the Starbucks experience but not, like, to support capitalism or whatever,” Madison replies. “By the way, the homeless guy up front called, he wants his twenty layers of jackets back.”

The girl looks at her like she shot her puppy. Madison shrugs. “What? I’m just being honest!”

“Madison, stop bullying our best customer,” Kyle jokes, trying to come back to the counter. (She sneers at him. He is wise enough to be afraid of her and stay back. So he is not completely stupid then.)

“So, May, what do you want?” she asks the other girl.

“That’s not even close to my name,” she says, but she grins anyway. Weirdo. “One Iced Coffee for Zoe, with a little caramel twirl thingie, please.”

“Sure, Zack,” Madison says, and grabs her cup with a little more strength than necessary. Zoe snorts. She probably has some sort of insult kink. She and Kyle are going to have the worst sex ever.

She’s already onto the next customer when Zoe sees the shape of the caramel twirl on her order, laughs, and shouts thanks, Madison! from the other end of the room. Madison rolls her eyes at her and totally doesn’t blush.

(Kyle pesters her for an entire hour the next time their shift coincide for her to tell him what she drew on that poor girl’s cup because something you’ve probably never seen in your entire, pathetic life was not clear enough for him. It’s only when Zoe comes up to her and says her thanks for the capussyno that he gets it, and no, Madison does not laugh at that terrible, terrible pun.)

december.

“Hi Madison, did you have a nice Christmas?” Zoe asks as Madison is crouched under the counter looking for vanilla extract to serve that twink who only drinks decaf half-soy half-low fat milk extra whip cream double shot vanilla lattes.

She stands up so fast she hits her head against the cabinet and lets out a slew of swear words that would make her mother ashamed. (Or proud. Madison’s family isn’t exactly filled with role models. She’s a chainsmoking wannabe actress who works at the only coffee shop whose owner pities her enough to accept her constantly insulting customers. Of course she’s got mommy issues.) Her head hurts, and her dignity too.

“Madison, are you hurt?” the other girl asks, with real worry in her voice, because she’s a saint. Kyle and her sure deserve each other.

“No, everything is fine, I’m peachy,” Madison bites back with as much venom as she can muster.

It takes a few seconds for her vision to work again, once the blurriness of tears passes. When that happens, Madison discovers that sometimes in the last minute or so, Zoe bent over the counter to look at her closer. She puts her hand on top of Madison’s head, fingers ghosting over the spot where she hit herself, digging into her hair slightly. Her face is so close now, brown eyes blown wide open, pink lips slightly parted, thin eyebrows raised, and this is usually the point at which Madison finds something disparaging to say about her, like how measly her face looks, but her brain shortcuts again, thanks for that, and the only sound to get past her is a shrill whine.

“Shit, do you have a concussion or something?” she says, and steps back, wriggling her hand. As Zoe moves away, Madison’s big sapphic meltdown stops. Mostly. “I don’t know anything about medicine, I’m a History major, I should look for a doctor-”

She suddenly remembers that she’s Madison Montgomery and doesn’t get tongue-tied around anyone, ever. “Stop, you weirdo! I’m fine, god, you’re not my mom.”

“Oh,” Zoe says.

“Yeah,” Madison says. There’s a very awkward pause before she speaks up again. “So, I’m gonna serve this guy his stupid drink.”

“Yeah, sure.”

She gives her one last look as she walks away, and Zoe is tugging her sleeves above her pale hands, looking down in a way that makes silky hair cover most of her face. Madison finally makes that decaf half-soy half-low fat milk - something, calls for Behold, what kind of a name is that, ugh, who looks at her like he’s deeply unimpressed.

“Oh honey,” he says. “That was physically painful.”

“Excuse me, I don’t take advice from people who wear cardigans,” Madison snarks. “So shoo, Doctor Love.”

He scoffs at her and rolls his eyes but leaves anyway. When she gets back to the front, Zoe is gone already, taken care of by Queenie, who’s very unapologetic about it all. Madison bangs her head against the wooden counter.

january.

This time, Madison doesn’t even try to intercede when Kyle rushes to serve Zoe the instant she appears with a friendly expression, a gush of cold wind and a few snowflakes. She is done with this whole crush affair. Done. She is not going to embarrass herself striving to get Zoe’s attention anymore. New year, new her. She got the number of this very hot guy during a New Year’s Eve party, with long blonde hair and a smile like a shark’s, so she has no reason to pine anymore when she’s got herself a regular booty call. Queenie told her she was an idiot, but what does Queenie know about anything, really?

She watches as Kyle scribbles down a pick-up line on her to-go cup in a way he thinks is subtle and passes it to Zoe. She fully expects her to chuckle, again, as she always does when he uses one of his dork moves. It would make for a perfect picture: seven a.m., the sun rising, the snow falling softly out their window, your classic boy-meets-girl story.

Instead, Zoe says, “Oh, Kyle, that’s very flattering, but uh, you know,” and bites her lip.

Kyle looks at her blankly. “Uh, what do I know? I don’t know anything.”

“It’s true,” Madison calls from where she’s sitting at one of their booths. “He knows nothing.”

(So, yes, she was supposed to stay silent and let it be. How can she let opportunities like that pass her by though? She has a reputation. A reputation as a queen bitch.)

Zoe jolts at the sound of her voice, and Kyle glares, which, kudos to him, Madison didn’t think he was capable of that. The other girl moves a bit closer to him and speaks softly like that doesn’t make Madison lean closer to listen, which once again is not a desperate move, alright, she might have given up on Zoe, but she still feeds on drama.

“I’m gay, Kyle,” Zoe says. She gives him a small, pitying smile.

Kyle’s mouth falls apart on a silent oooh. Madison’s brain goes blank. Again.

She probably did get a concussion from that hitting-the-counter thing after all.

“Oooh,” Kyle finally lets out. “I see.” To his credit, he is back to his normal, cheerful persona already. “Do you want Madison’s number then?”

Madison chokes on her coffee and starts coughing desperately. Zoe turns back to look at her like a deer caught in the headlights, then at Kyle, then at her again. They both start to shake their heads no, but Kyle grins at them like he’s the Chester cat and he caught a canary and that canary happens to be Madison and she doesn’t know where the fuck she is going with that metaphor but he jots her number down on a napkin anyway.

When Zoe runs away with her to-go cup and Madison can process words again, she stomps towards Kyle, intent on saying something scathing to destroy his ego, but instead asks, “How did you even get my number?”

february.

“Madison Montgomery, are you the one drawing dicks on the chalkboard? The chalkboard outside the shop? The chalkboard outside the shop that we installed yesterday to promote our seasonal drinks?” Cordelia asks.

“What? No,” Madisons scoffs. “Why are you asking me this? Is this some kind of profiling issue? This is clearly biphobia. We’re not sex-obsessed skanks, you know.”

Misty snorts, because she’s a terrible manager.

“Madison,” Cordelia warns and does that thing when she looks at you and you feel like she sees all the dark, terrible secrets you’re hiding.

“What? It’s not me! Do you even have proof? Are you going around asking people-”

“Hi guys,” Zoe says as she comes in, her face almost entirely covered with scarf and beanie and hair except for her reddish nose. Cordelia smiles at her more warmly than she ever smiled at Madison, which is bullshit, since she’s been Madison’s boss for months and she’s known Zoe all of three weeks. (Although, maybe being Madison’s boss for months is reason enough to look disapproving all the time.)

She steps up to the counter and the other waitress on duty starts making her usual order without any prompting. It's still an Iced Coffee, despite it being freezing cold outside, and Madison doesn’t know how she didn’t figure out the whole lesbian thing sooner.

Then again, maybe she’s not the brightest bulb around her. Yesterday, when Zoe smiled at her as she carried a tray full of empty cups to the counter (seriously, it’s so easy to bring them when you’re done drinking, why are people like this), she tripped and almost broke it all. Queenie is still giving her shit about that.

“Hey, that’s a nice dress, Zoe!” Misty says and smiles her special Misty Day smile that is like staring directly into the sun.

“Oh, thanks! I got it on sale at a…” Zoe hesitates and glances at Madison worriedly. “A thrift shop.”

Madison cackles at that because Zoe is making it all too easy for her to mock her (the others waiters call it flirting, which is why they are all single and desperate). Misty speaks up before she has an opportunity to talk though. “It looks good on you! Doesn’t it, Madison?”

Her mouth opens and closes without a sound. She lets out: “It doesn’t come from the Gap, so, it’s always an improvement.”

“Aw, thanks, Madison, that’s very big of you,” Zoe says with fake cheer. “Really liked your penmanship from this morning out here too. Obviously the proportions were kind of wrong, but self-portraits are tough, aren’t they?”

Cordelia twirls around to face Madison with an I knew it expression on her face, Misty cracks up, and Zoe slips away from the shop with a winning smile. Well played, Benson.

(Later, the waitress will harass her about sexual tension and nonsense, and Madison will stomp and say why are you obsessed with me, and the staff will find something else to yammer on about.)

march.

Zoe is back in the corner booth at C.C., reading some boring History book with a ridiculously long title about witches, whose name Madison would usually never remember since she’s not a nerd, yet somehow knows because Zoe is really passionate about it and keeps calling it Six Women of Salem: The Untold Story of the Accused and Their Accusers in the Salem Witch Trials instead of That Nerdy Salem Book Thing like a normal person, and unfortunately, Madison listens to her. It takes three hours before Madison can clock out, and feels like three years. This is not unusual, as she always hated service jobs. What is unusual is how, even though it is only two p.m., she doesn’t hurry out of the shop to go literally anywhere else and instead slides next to the other girl and peers over her shoulder.

“Ooh, gory shit,” she says, and Zoe doesn’t even turn around, which is ungrateful since Madison looks fucking stunning today, just leans backward on Madison and hums.

Madison finds herself with a shoulder full of chestnut hair and mango shampoo smell. Her heart starts beating like a drill. It’s really annoying. She can’t even be angry properly, though. The other day Queenie told her she got almost tolerable now that she’s in lesbians with someone, which, no.

She sighs dramatically until Zoe is done with her chapter and lays down her book to pay full attention to her. By which she means roll her eyes at her and makeout. When Queenie hurls napkins at them so that they stop being so fucking disgusting, ugh, Zoe traps Madison’s hand between her thigh so she doesn’t give her coworkers the finger.

When her boss Cordelia comes in to kick them out, they have sex at Zoe’s place (twice) and talk about her next audition around Thaï takeout afterward. They even agree to watch The Tudors so Zoe can complain about historical inaccuracies and Madison can get turned on by the hot people and shut Zoe up accordingly.

All in all, it’s not so bad.

Now with a part 2!