Prompt 1: Coffee Shop
Rating: T
Modern AU

"Another day on minimum wage nearly finished…" Dawn thought unhappily, topping off a latté with whipped cream. She feigned a hospitable smile and handed it to the customer, a middle-aged man with graying hair. He accepted it wordlessly, and then frowned.

"I didn't want whipped cream," he commented, handing the coffee back.

Dawn had to physically stop her eyes from rolling back into her skull. He had watched her top the latté. Why didn't he bother to stop her?

The barista couldn't muster a false apology. She simply took the drink back, dumped it in the sink, and started a new one.

This was every day for Dawn Berlitz. Ignorant, demanding people coming in one after another, making complicated orders without articulating every detail correctly, complaining to the manager about the customer service when she didn't smile like a Barbie doll after making the same drink for the fiftieth time of the day. It was enough to drive anyone insane.

But college wouldn't pay for itself.

And that was her only incentive to survive the monotony.

Dawn groaned and checked her watch, relieved to find it was finally time to shoo all MacBook-toting hipsters and "aspiring playwrights" out and close the shop. The manager, Zoey, led the mass exodus while Dawn wiped down the cappuccino machine. That was her least favorite job. (Her least favorite job that didn't require human interaction, anyway.) It took forever, and whoever did it was guaranteed to be the last person out the door. The "lock-up monkey," as Zoey so sensitively put it. Somehow, Dawn always seemed to get stuck with the task.

Forty-five minutes later, the barista was nearly finished. Visions of going home and jumping into bed for a good night's sleep played through her head, encouraging her to move faster. She was so lost in her reverie that she hardly noticed the front door swing open and the cold night air spill into the building. The raven-haired girl pursed her lips glumly. She had already had more than enough human contact for one day.

"Sorry, we're closed." she stated firmly, making a point of not looking at the customer. She had long since learned that if you were stubborn enough, people who came in after hours looking for service would just leave. Unbeknownst to her, she would soon find that this customer was stubborn enough for the both of them.

"You're not closed. The lights are on and you're still behind the counter."

Dawn grimaced and turned to face the trespasser. The intruder, a twenty-something blonde, smiled prettily, catching Dawn off-guard. But she wouldn't lose her composure. She was going home and sleeping and that was final.

"We're closed," she repeated, this time having to force herself not to make eye contact. "Come back tomorrow."

"But I need a pick-me-up today," the woman responded, taking a seat at the bar. "If I wait until tomorrow, I'll need two pick-me-ups. And then I'll be here bothering you even longer."

The expression on Dawn's face was a cross between "That makes absolutely no sense" and "I want you DEAD." But the stranger didn't seem to notice. She stretched her arms until they cracked and let her eyes roam toward the menu board. The barista huffed in defeat. The sooner she served this weirdo, the sooner she could leave.

"What can I get you?"

The blonde woman smiled broadly. "Well, Dawn, since you asked... I'll have a vanilla cream latté. Extra-large." Dawn frowned dully. She hated wearing a name tag.

"That's a lot of caffeine so late at night," the barista grumbled more to herself than the customer. She pumped four squirts of vanilla flavoring into the cardboard cup and followed it up with coffee and steamed milk, stirring carefully.

"So what's your favorite latté, Dawn?" the blonde asked as Dawn put the finishing touches on her drink.

"The white chocolate one, I guess."

"Isn't that the same as vanilla?"

Dawn furrowed her brow and stopped applying whipped cream to the customer's coffee. Why was she trying to make small talk? Who in their right mind would want to have a meaningless conversation about artificial flavoring at such an hour? The barista dismissed the thought and continued what she was doing. "The sooner I serve her, the sooner I can leave."

"No. They're different." Dawn handed the stranger her drink, suppressing a yawn. "The vanilla syrup is much sweeter."

The woman thanked her. There was a sincerity in her voice that Dawn would probably have appreciated if she weren't so tired. She turned her attention back to cleaning the cappuccino machine, but it wasn't long before the blonde once again caught her unawares.

"Why do you work here?"

"…What?"

"Why do you work here?" the odd blond repeated simply. "Is it because you like this job, or because you're biding your time until something better comes along?"

"I'm saving money for college…" Dawn answered cautiously, wondering just who she was giving her personal information. "I like this job about as much as I like getting punched in the face."

"Masochists might like getting punched in the face," the customer retorted, taking the finished latté and sipping it. "I imagine it could gratify them somehow. This is delicious, by the way."

Dawn stared at the woman like she had four heads. Her mother had once warned her that society's strangest people tended to show up when you worked night shifts. She now saw that that had been a valid statement. Still, there was something about this woman that was appealing. She obviously had a quirky and honest personality, two qualities that Dawn had always found inexplicably attractive in a girl.

"If it makes you feel any better, Dawn…" the blonde mused, twirling a lock of hair around her finger, "My job is also about as fun as getting punched in the face… and I'm not a masochist."

A car drove noisily by the shop window, drowning out the customer's last few words. Its headlights blared and fell softly onto the back wall, illuminating her face in the process. Dawn swallowed hard, noticing how pure her amber eyes were. She could almost see herself reflected in them.

"Um…" she stuttered, trying to reorient herself and remember that her goal was to get the woman to leave. Unfortunately, she couldn't bring herself to do it. "What do you do?"

The barista mentally slapped herself for asking. "That's not getting her to LEAVE. That's getting her to stay longer, you idiot!" But something in her gut was overtaking her rationality. Maybe she did want her to stay longer…

"I always wanted to be an archaeologist… but instead I do something so important that it makes the President look like a mall cop," the woman answered sarcastically, tapping her hands against the bar to simulate a drumroll. "I sell insurance."

Dawn smirked. "I can see why. You're pretty persistent."

"Let's just say my stamina doesn't run out easily," the customer winked, making Dawn blush in spite of herself. Was that a double entendre, or just wishful thinking on her part?

The blonde continued. "But you're persistent too. You almost had me thinking you actually wanted me to leave."

"I do want you to leave."

"No you don't. I can tell."

Dawn's face contorted with confusion for the millionth time since meeting the blonde. "What do you mean you can you tell?"

The woman shook her head with a knowing smile and put her cup down. Dawn noted that she had chugged her coffee faster than most businessmen on their lunch hour.

"I'm pretty good at reading into things, Dawn." she stated, leaning in closer over the bar. "For example, I can tell that we could be friends. Good friends…"

Dawn nodded gingerly, urging her to keep talking. But it was unnecessary. The blonde was going to do so whether she wanted to hear it or not.

"And I can tell that we could go all the way. The whole package. Fall madly in love, get married, have kids, get old, and die together… It could happen. Of course, you'd have to stop playing hard to get and ask me out first."

By this time Dawn was completely red in the face. "You're… absolutely delusional." She turned away and locked the cash register, signaling that this time the store really was closed and that her blonde guest would have to leave. Her head was proud of her, but the feeling in her gut said otherwise.

The blonde sighed and stood up, making her way to the exit. The barista watched her out of the corner of her eye and felt her heart drop when she realized that the woman might actually leave.

"Wait."

Dawn was no longer running on even a bit of rational thought. The weird blonde was right. Any one decision could lead to years of possibilities. There was potential in everything, if you were optimistic. So it couldn't hurt to try, could it?

"I get off at nine tomorrow..." she said slowly, hoping the woman would take the bait.

The customer nodded, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I'm glad to hear that, Dawn. I'll be here." She turned tail and walked slowly out the door, leaving the younger girl very confused, yet very happy.

After she left, a strange realization hit Dawn. She didn't even know the woman's name. The barista blushed, embarrassed that she had forgotten to ask. She eventually brushed it off with a shrug. She had all the time in the world to get to know the blonde, and she would start tomorrow. Maybe life didn't have to be so monotonous, after all.

Dawn exited the shop and made her way over to her car. As she opened the doors to get inside, another thought came to her. She'd have to find a way to trick Zoey into being the lock-up monkey from now on.