Coffee
Title: Coffee
Rating: Pg-13
Pairing: Bojan Krkic/ Sergio Canales
Disclaimer: If this were true I wouldn’t have to write it down
Summary: It all starts with coffee
Authors Note: Hi! New to the fandom, and haven’t written anything in a while. I hope you all enjoy this! I was thinking about doing a series, but I’m not sure yet. Feedback is much appreciated. Also, not beta-d so all mistakes are mine.
It all starts with coffee.
Sergio wakes up to the smell of a fresh brew wafting through the air, the taste lingering on his tongue long after he’s taken a sip. Many wonder how he can still enjoy it after all this time when he’s surrounded by it all day long, working at the small coffee shop down the street from his New York apartment, but Sergio just shrugs. He wouldn’t have taken the job if he didn’t enjoy it.
They meet on a chilly day in mid February when the snow on the sidewalks is just beginning to melt, and the world seems to be just a little bit brighter, a bit happier. Bojan stumbles into the shop, his ears bright red and a scarf wrapped around his neck and Sergio can’t help but smile because something about this boy just seems worth being happy about. Bojan walks up to the counter and Sergio can see how his teeth are still chattering slightly, can practically feel the heat radiating from his ears due to the change in temperature. He knows there is no way this boy is a native New Yorker, because for New York in the winter, today isn’t half bad, and he’s seen people walk around in sandals in this weather.
“Can I help you?” Sergio asks. Bojan’s eyes are searching over the sign hanging above Sergio, looking for something familiar, something he can remember from the few times he walked into coffee shop back home.
“Yes, I think I’ll just have hot chocolate.” Bojan answers and Sergio raises his eyebrows.
“Is that a problem?” Bojan asks defeated, worried that he’d just made a fool of himself by ordering hot chocolate at a shop that obviously doesn’t serve it. Sergio shakes his head.
“You just didn’t seem like the hot chocolate type is all.” He tells him as he turns and begins making the order. After what feels like years of working here, Sergio feels like it pretty easy to predict what people are going to order just by looking at them. The stuck up types wearing designer brands usually make the long orders in a language that Sergio still isn’t completely sure he understands. Elderly people are just looking for decaf with some sort of milk, and artsy types want theirs black. It’s usually thirty-something’s with young children who order hot chocolate, looking for something to keep Johnny occupied while they are running errands.
“Oh.” Bojan responds as Sergio hands him his drink. He begins taking his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans, and wonders if he should be offended that a boy he had only met seconds before seems to already have him pegged as a type. He hands his money to Sergio, who begins to put it away as Bojan goes to take a seat.
“Wait,” Sergio stops him, noticing a Spanish bill in the mix. Bojan immediately realizes his mistake his cheeks turn a bright shade of red, cursing himself for not exchanging all of his old currency.
“Sorry about that.” Bojan swaps the bill for a dollar, content to go sit alone in the corner after embarrassing himself enough for one day.
Sergio grins, “It’s alright. My parents are from Spain, so I’m used to it.” He says, recounting numerous times his parents sent him out to the corner store with a mix of currency. Deep down, he feels like he kind of understands why they didn’t just exchange it for American money. It was a reminder, not only to them but to Sergio, of the world they left behind.
Suddenly, Bojan’s eyes light up, as if he’s just gotten that toy he wanted for Christmas. “Really? What part?” He asks.
Now, it’s Sergio’s turn to blush, wishing he would have paid better attention to all those stories his father told him when he was younger. “I’m not completely sure.” He admits.
Bojan pretends to act as though he isn’t disappointed, and notices a line is beginning for form behind him. “I should probably go sit, don’t want to leave your customers waiting.” He says with a smirk.
Sergio nods in agreement, and hopes that the line will clear in time for him to talk to the other a little bit more. “I’m Sergio by the way.” He tells the other, forgetting about his name tag.
“Bojan, nice to meet you.” Bojan stretches a hand out to Sergio, who takes it willingly and then gets back to his job.
+
The next day, Bojan is back at the coffee shop. But this time, Sergio’s on break and sitting at a table with a coffee. Bojan orders a hot chocolate and settles in across from him.
“Madrid.” Sergio states simply, looking up from his coffee. “My family is from Madrid.”
Bojan nods. “Barcelona,” he responds and gives a little smirk. “I take it you’re a Real Madrid fan then, aren’t you?” He asks. Bojan has never been a man of many words, but some subjects he could go on and on about if someone shows even the slightest bit of interest, and football is one of those.
“If I say yes will you lose respect for me?” Sergio raises and eyebrow and gives a small chuckle. It’s not as though he’s grown up watching the sport, as it can be hard living in America, but he knows about certain teams and rivalries from his father, and he knows that Barcelona and Real Madrid aren’t the best of friends, and associates their rivalry with that of the Yankees and the Red Sox.
“Maybe a little bit.” Bojan says, teasing the other boy.
+
Towards the end of February, Sergio invites Bojan to his for dinner and to watch a couple movies. He cooks one of his mother’s old Spanish recipes, hoping to impress Bojan, but he ends up burning it. So, they order a pizza from one of his favorite places and curl up on the couch. Sergio lays with his chest flushed against Bojan’s back, one set of fingers playing with the hem of the other boy’s t-shirt, while he uses his other hand to hold his head up. Midway through the movie Bojan moves his hand and laces their fingers together.
“Hey, Sergio?” Bojan says.
“Hm?”
“What did you mean when you said I didn’t seem like the hot chocolate type?”
Sergio’s thumb is tracing circles against Bojan’s hand. “You just seemed much more grown up then that, I guess. Usually it’s the kids who want hot chocolate.”
Bojan nods. “Are you calling me immature?” He asks with a chuckle and turns so that they are facing each other. He brings a hand to Sergio’s chest.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Sergio’s rolling his eyes and smiling again as he reaches to touch Bojan’s cheek, brushing hair away and resting his hand on the others neck. Bojan scoots forward on the couch a little, getting himself comfortable, and now Sergio can feel Bojan’s breathing against him, and he isn’t sure what to do because he’s never been this close, not to Bojan, not to anyone, and he just hopes, prays that Bojan is thinking the same thing he is because he wouldn’t know how to handle it if he wasn’t.
Bojan’s leans in slowly, and brings his lips to Sergio’s. It’s slow and sensual and Sergio brings his hand to Bojan’s hair, playing with it and twirling it in his fingers as the kiss deepens. Bojan’s tongue is running along the bottom of his lip, and Sergio opens his mouth to allow Bojan in, lets himself taste and be tasted, and Sergio will be damned if this isn’t what heaven feels like.
+
Rating: Pg-13
Pairing: Bojan Krkic/ Sergio Canales
Disclaimer: If this were true I wouldn’t have to write it down
Summary: It all starts with coffee
Authors Note: Hi! New to the fandom, and haven’t written anything in a while. I hope you all enjoy this! I was thinking about doing a series, but I’m not sure yet. Feedback is much appreciated. Also, not beta-d so all mistakes are mine.
It all starts with coffee.
Sergio wakes up to the smell of a fresh brew wafting through the air, the taste lingering on his tongue long after he’s taken a sip. Many wonder how he can still enjoy it after all this time when he’s surrounded by it all day long, working at the small coffee shop down the street from his New York apartment, but Sergio just shrugs. He wouldn’t have taken the job if he didn’t enjoy it.
They meet on a chilly day in mid February when the snow on the sidewalks is just beginning to melt, and the world seems to be just a little bit brighter, a bit happier. Bojan stumbles into the shop, his ears bright red and a scarf wrapped around his neck and Sergio can’t help but smile because something about this boy just seems worth being happy about. Bojan walks up to the counter and Sergio can see how his teeth are still chattering slightly, can practically feel the heat radiating from his ears due to the change in temperature. He knows there is no way this boy is a native New Yorker, because for New York in the winter, today isn’t half bad, and he’s seen people walk around in sandals in this weather.
“Can I help you?” Sergio asks. Bojan’s eyes are searching over the sign hanging above Sergio, looking for something familiar, something he can remember from the few times he walked into coffee shop back home.
“Yes, I think I’ll just have hot chocolate.” Bojan answers and Sergio raises his eyebrows.
“Is that a problem?” Bojan asks defeated, worried that he’d just made a fool of himself by ordering hot chocolate at a shop that obviously doesn’t serve it. Sergio shakes his head.
“You just didn’t seem like the hot chocolate type is all.” He tells him as he turns and begins making the order. After what feels like years of working here, Sergio feels like it pretty easy to predict what people are going to order just by looking at them. The stuck up types wearing designer brands usually make the long orders in a language that Sergio still isn’t completely sure he understands. Elderly people are just looking for decaf with some sort of milk, and artsy types want theirs black. It’s usually thirty-something’s with young children who order hot chocolate, looking for something to keep Johnny occupied while they are running errands.
“Oh.” Bojan responds as Sergio hands him his drink. He begins taking his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans, and wonders if he should be offended that a boy he had only met seconds before seems to already have him pegged as a type. He hands his money to Sergio, who begins to put it away as Bojan goes to take a seat.
“Wait,” Sergio stops him, noticing a Spanish bill in the mix. Bojan immediately realizes his mistake his cheeks turn a bright shade of red, cursing himself for not exchanging all of his old currency.
“Sorry about that.” Bojan swaps the bill for a dollar, content to go sit alone in the corner after embarrassing himself enough for one day.
Sergio grins, “It’s alright. My parents are from Spain, so I’m used to it.” He says, recounting numerous times his parents sent him out to the corner store with a mix of currency. Deep down, he feels like he kind of understands why they didn’t just exchange it for American money. It was a reminder, not only to them but to Sergio, of the world they left behind.
Suddenly, Bojan’s eyes light up, as if he’s just gotten that toy he wanted for Christmas. “Really? What part?” He asks.
Now, it’s Sergio’s turn to blush, wishing he would have paid better attention to all those stories his father told him when he was younger. “I’m not completely sure.” He admits.
Bojan pretends to act as though he isn’t disappointed, and notices a line is beginning for form behind him. “I should probably go sit, don’t want to leave your customers waiting.” He says with a smirk.
Sergio nods in agreement, and hopes that the line will clear in time for him to talk to the other a little bit more. “I’m Sergio by the way.” He tells the other, forgetting about his name tag.
“Bojan, nice to meet you.” Bojan stretches a hand out to Sergio, who takes it willingly and then gets back to his job.
+
The next day, Bojan is back at the coffee shop. But this time, Sergio’s on break and sitting at a table with a coffee. Bojan orders a hot chocolate and settles in across from him.
“Madrid.” Sergio states simply, looking up from his coffee. “My family is from Madrid.”
Bojan nods. “Barcelona,” he responds and gives a little smirk. “I take it you’re a Real Madrid fan then, aren’t you?” He asks. Bojan has never been a man of many words, but some subjects he could go on and on about if someone shows even the slightest bit of interest, and football is one of those.
“If I say yes will you lose respect for me?” Sergio raises and eyebrow and gives a small chuckle. It’s not as though he’s grown up watching the sport, as it can be hard living in America, but he knows about certain teams and rivalries from his father, and he knows that Barcelona and Real Madrid aren’t the best of friends, and associates their rivalry with that of the Yankees and the Red Sox.
“Maybe a little bit.” Bojan says, teasing the other boy.
+
Towards the end of February, Sergio invites Bojan to his for dinner and to watch a couple movies. He cooks one of his mother’s old Spanish recipes, hoping to impress Bojan, but he ends up burning it. So, they order a pizza from one of his favorite places and curl up on the couch. Sergio lays with his chest flushed against Bojan’s back, one set of fingers playing with the hem of the other boy’s t-shirt, while he uses his other hand to hold his head up. Midway through the movie Bojan moves his hand and laces their fingers together.
“Hey, Sergio?” Bojan says.
“Hm?”
“What did you mean when you said I didn’t seem like the hot chocolate type?”
Sergio’s thumb is tracing circles against Bojan’s hand. “You just seemed much more grown up then that, I guess. Usually it’s the kids who want hot chocolate.”
Bojan nods. “Are you calling me immature?” He asks with a chuckle and turns so that they are facing each other. He brings a hand to Sergio’s chest.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Sergio’s rolling his eyes and smiling again as he reaches to touch Bojan’s cheek, brushing hair away and resting his hand on the others neck. Bojan scoots forward on the couch a little, getting himself comfortable, and now Sergio can feel Bojan’s breathing against him, and he isn’t sure what to do because he’s never been this close, not to Bojan, not to anyone, and he just hopes, prays that Bojan is thinking the same thing he is because he wouldn’t know how to handle it if he wasn’t.
Bojan’s leans in slowly, and brings his lips to Sergio’s. It’s slow and sensual and Sergio brings his hand to Bojan’s hair, playing with it and twirling it in his fingers as the kiss deepens. Bojan’s tongue is running along the bottom of his lip, and Sergio opens his mouth to allow Bojan in, lets himself taste and be tasted, and Sergio will be damned if this isn’t what heaven feels like.
+