#((Lineith: Coffee Shop AU))

[mc-lukanette]

Luka was taking his usual route home, his coffee in hand and marked with his name, as it always was. All employees got one for free at the end of the day, and while it felt a little too generous for him to accept at first, he got used to the insistence, just glad to have a boss who wanted their workers to be happy.

That said, he hadn't opened it yet, planning on doing so when he got home in order to be perked up and ready to work on his music. The coffee he made without following a menu had a certain bite to it that somehow made the wake-up call even stronger, earning him the nickname "Viperion" from all the people he worked with. He didn't complain, obviously; it sounded cool.

As he walked down the wide sidewalk, he glanced up and noticed something that made him pause: a woman, slumped over a table and looking ready to either sleep or pass into the afterlife. He couldn't get a good look at her face, since she was face-down on the table and her black hair was making any of her features unseeable, but he saw the professional outfit she wore and the sketchbook resting under her hand, implying that she was overworked.

Luka realized belatedly that she didn't have a writing utensil in hand, his eyes drifting down to scan the circular table she was laying on. Indeed, there it was, on the opposite side of the table and continuing to roll along due to the occasional gust of wind. He rushed forward as it neared the edge, saving it from a sad fate on the sidewalk. He couldn't tell how fragile it was, but it seemed expensive, so he was glad to have come by when he did.

Slipping the pen between the open pages in the book, Luka's next priority was to duck down and check under the table for the woman's belongings. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that her purse was safely between her legs, unstolen and with the strap hanging around her shoulder. From the looks of how she was hunched over it with her legs pressed into the sides, he imagined that she might stir awake if someone attempted to take it or steal what was inside, but he wasn't going to take that chance.

He stood, placing a hand on her shoulder and giving her a gentle shake, even though he felt bad for doing so. The woman made an assortment of whines and groans at the motion, shifting away from him and curling in on herself. She even pulled her sketchbook in with her as if it were a pillow, clearly not willing to depart from whatever half-asleep state she was in. He couldn't help feeling bad for her; she was so obviously exhausted and he got the impression that this was a recurring thing.

While debating on what to do, he remembered the coffee in his hand, still hot and definitely a burst of caffeine for anyone who drank it. There was no question as to whether or not he should offer it to her, he just did, holding the cup out and gingerly pressing the bottom of it against the back of her hand while ensuring that the name side was facing away from her. She shifted again, but had a better reaction to the heat, maybe recognizing what it meant. She turned her head up, her hair parting just enough for him to see one of her eyes as it took in the cup in his hand.

His heart skipped a beat, having not expected to see such a bright blue color, but he remained still and waited for her reaction.

Eventually, the hand not touched by the cup came up to grab it, the other soon moving out from under the cup to do the same. She tilted her head back down at the table, then gave him a muffled, "thanks," probably thinking that he was someone serving her a drink she ordered.

He smiled, her voice reminding him of the pleasant chime of a bell. He was content to accept whoever she thought he was so long as she accepted the drink, releasing it so he could walk away from her. Once he was a fair distance away, he looked back to see that she was slowly pushing herself up so she could drink the coffee he'd given her. Satisfied and feeling that it was safe to go, he rounded the next corner to continue his way home.

—————

The next day at work was particularly slow, with Luka having difficulty keeping himself occupied. He'd already wiped down everything in the shop that he could think of without the customers starting to suspect that he had a cleaning obsession, so he gave into his personal wants and pulled out a notepad he kept on him. It wasn't much, but he used it to jot down little melodies that came into his head, figuring that he might be able to turn them into something special with a little bit of time and effort.

He'd only been able to sketch some quick staff lines when the front door opened, rapid footsteps following as someone apparently barreled through. He glanced up at him, only needing to look for a moment before he recognized them as the woman he'd helped yesterday, though she was sporting casual wear instead of her business attire. A few of the customers at the tables turned to eye her, their faces a mixture of curious and confused, but she didn't seem to care.

"Is—" The woman panted, waiting to catch her breath before she stood straight, raising her right hand to reveal the coffee cup she'd been given yesterday. "Is there a Luka here?"

Luka gaped, then raised the notepad to his mouth to hide the fact that he was chuckling. He'd honestly thought that something terrible had happened to her with the panic she was in, but this?

The woman looked around frantically, clearly hoping to get a positive response. The customers who'd focused on her earlier had glanced in Luka's direction at the mention of his name, causing her to follow their gaze to him. Luka himself lowered his notepad enough to offer her a smile, his free hand going up to greet her. She ran up to him, taking note of the signature on his name tag and then comparing it to the one on the cup.

"Oh—thank goodness," she sighed. "I found you." Setting the cup down, she threw herself face-down onto the counter. Luka felt glad that he'd just cleaned there.

Curious, he asked, "Why were you looking for me?"

"I am so sorry," she whined in response. Raising her head just enough to look up at him, she continued, "I was so tired and I wasn't even thinking, and then I drank all of your coffee!"

He blinked, half-wondering if maybe she'd been so tired then that she thought that she'd stolen it. Offering her a smile, he placed his hands on the counter and lowered himself until he was level with her, assuring, "I gave it to you, it's okay. We get them for free. Besides, you looked exhausted and you definitely needed it more than I did."

"Still!" she argued, pushing herself back up with a pout.

The speed of her response told him that she actually knew already that she didn't steal it, yet was still that distraught over the matter of drinking his coffee anyway. He thought it was cute.

She threw her arms out. "And I'd never been to this place before and had to find directions on my phone and I was so worried that I might've picked the wrong one and I wouldn't know since I figured you were just a customer so my chances of finding you again were already bad and even if you were a regular I wouldn't even know what you looked like—" She stopped herself, letting out a sigh as she seemed to realize that she was getting side-tracked.

Luka watched, a mixture between amused and maybe a little charmed as the woman pulled out her purse and began to dig through it. Though he couldn't make out much, he could tell that it was organized, leading to her pulling out what she'd been looked for relatively quickly.

With a sudden serious look on her face, she firmly placed the money she'd grabbed down on the counter. "Anyway, at least let me pay you back! I don’t care if you got it for free or not!"

Luka looked at her, then the money, then back at her, reminding himself that she really went through so much trouble over a cup of coffee and it was absolutely adorable. He wasn't sure what his face looked like, but he knew it wasn't his normal "customer smile."

"What's your name?" he finally asked, once he'd put his thoughts together.

"W-what?" The serious expression vanished, replaced by surprise. "Um—" She tilted her head, but answered him anyway despite not knowing why he was asking. "Marinette."

Marinette.

Grinning at the melody taking place in his head, he turned away from her, abandoning the money she'd set down and picking up a cup to start writing on. "So, what kind of coffee do you want for that money?"

"H-hey!"