rating: mild T for curse words

genre: Romance

disclaimer: I own nothing.

Warning: The usual. Also, I'm not entirely familiar with coffee speak, so there may be inconsistencies in how you actually order coffee in the real world. X) None of the fancy interspersing dialogue crap that I usually do. Lastly, fluff ahead.

Pre-story notes: I know that I promised to upload On Rings, but I'm having writer's block, so hush, here's an early Christmas present for you. :P Also, kudos to anyone who catches the TV show reference in the story. X)

Beta'd by the amazing Introvert-Dragon, who is also the user I'm dedicating this fic to.

Enjoy!

Seasonal Drinks 101: A Barista Taxonomist's Guide to Overpriced Coffee Nomenclature

"This is my table."

It's sometime during the fall season, just in the middle of September, when she first meets him. She's in her third year at Berk University, and she's on her way to get her caffeine fix at the local coffee shop, so aptly named The Edge Café since it was just a walking distance away from the edge of the University's premises. She usually gets her coffee at one of the canteens of the University, but today is a Thursday—the one day in the week in which she was free to study—so she plans to indulge herself with the coffee blends of her favorite coffee shop for her study session.

Unfortunately for her, there's a renovation on the second floor of the café, so the first floor—where her favorite spot is located—is more jam-packed than usual, with the students making do of what available seat was left. It was Thursday after all, and the students were eager to do some last-minute studying for the last school day of the week. ("The Meade Hall on Friday nights for party and booze, The Edge Café on Thursday afternoons for coffee and books!" her fellow students would recite around occasionally.)

She places her bag on her favorite table at the same time someone else places books on the same work surface. Slightly huffing, she looks up to glare at the perpetrator, and she is surprised to be greeted by a beautiful pair of forest green eyes behind thick-rimmed eyeglasses.

He is ridiculously attractive.

His hair is a messy mop of soft auburn tresses, sticking around everywhere yet still able to adorably frame his face. Freckles liberally dust his visage, highlighting the creaminess of the expanse of his skin and the brightness of his big, green eyes. The stubble on his impossibly straight jawline is strangely pleasant to look at, too. He looks lean, but nothing in his built suggests that he's weak, and the crisp white of his button-up top matches well with his skin tone.

"I don't see your name on it, though?" he replies as if it was a joke, his voice rather nasal yet surprisingly endearing. By this time, a barista has approached them to offer her assistance.

She glares even more at him, not backing down.

"This is my de facto table," she insists, clutching a chair tightly to emphasize her point. "I've been using this spot ever since the shop first opened over a year ago. I suggest you try some place else."

"Actually," the barista—a girl she remembers as Heather—starts, "he is the ow—"

"—My apologies," the man says before Heather can finish, "Please take the table, then. I wouldn't want to intrude."

He gives her a small smile, crooked and awkward but surprisingly adorable. She wants to return it, to thank him for his politeness, but all that contorts on her face is a grimace. He doesn't seem to mind it as he has already walked away after getting his engineering books on the table and thanking the barista, and was now on his way on the table opposite hers on the other wall. She notices that he also has a faintly awkward gait, like he was slightly limping.

"Your usual, then?" Heather directs the question at her and she nods, setting herself on the chair. After an affirmative from her, Heather then approaches the man to take his order.

Astrid takes out her Chemistry books, laptop and notebook while waiting for her name to be called, trying to get a head start on studying. However, her eyes wander to the table opposite hers where he is settled.

The main reason why she liked her particular table, other than the fact that she could see people who were coming and going from the café, was because of the lighting it offered: since the wall was made of glass, it afforded her natural light that wouldn't strain her eyes when she read her books and wrote her notes. During the fall season, the lighting was much more favorable, too, since the light wasn't too glaring and too hot.

This time, though, the lighting is distracting.

The light covers the man on the table opposite hers in some sort of glow, highlighting the planes of his freckled face and the sharpness of his jawline. They are seated in a way that they can see each other from their sides of the tables, so she doesn't miss the spark in his eyes as he focuses on the entries on his textbooks, doesn't miss the graceful jerkiness of his hands as they push his glasses perched on his nose, doesn't miss how his pink lips purse and alternately open slightly as he ponders on his notes.

She briefly wonders if his lips are as soft as they looked.

Heather's voice snaps her out of her stupor.

"Signature Spice Flat White, and dark chocolate brownies for Astrid!"

She stands up to collect her order, and she hums to herself as she sets the concoction on the table, a fusion of espresso shots and spices, topped with whole milk micro foam. She sits on her table just as the man on the table opposite hers stands up to collect his. She notices his graceless stride again, and promptly realizes that he had a prosthetic leg on. But she doesn't linger on it as it doesn't really bother her; instead, her eyes wander even further up. She does not miss how his pants are tight, how the fabric molds to the shape of his backside, and her jaw almost drops at the sight.

Damn, he had a fantastic ass.

Before someone notices her checking out a stranger—a hot stranger but still a stranger nonetheless—she hurriedly grabs her earphones to tune out her surroundings. She tries to distract herself from any more diversions, willing her mind to focus on studying while the music from her earphones drowns her in her study playlist. The music blaring from the buds does not drown out Heather's voice, though.

"Cinnamon Apple Spice Herbal Tea for—"

Astrid coughs on her drink upon hearing the silly name that came next, almost spilling coffee on her shirt. He looks over at her table in concern, and she curses at herself for being so affected by his name. But she can't help it, not when this hot stranger had a name as amusing as—

"—Hiccup!"

She decides that there are too many apples in her order today.

She doesn't usually mind drink names, no matter how long or how pretentious they sound; for as long as she tastes the caffeine in the blend, then the drink could be named either Special Holiday Pumpkin Spice Unicorn Concoction Mocha Latte or Overpriced Piece of Coffee Shit for all she cared. However, today Ruffnut convinces her to try the Cinnamon Apple Cider Latte instead of her usual flat white, and she absentmindedly pairs it with caramelized apples and almond brittle. She realizes too late that the taste of apple has overwhelmed the overall palate of her order, but she's grateful for the hint of cinnamon and cider in her drink. And the caffeine. She's thankful most of all for the caffeine.

Because the caffeine positively stops her eyes from wandering to the wiry frame sitting on the table opposite hers. And when he stood up earlier to get his order of Jamaican Hibiscus Iced Tea, the caffeine definitely prevented her eyes from lingering on his ass for a second… or five.

(Who was she kidding?)

Hiccup.

Really, his name is an understatement to his attractiveness.

He's studying intently again, pouring all his attention on his books and occasionally, on the Jamaican Hibiscus Iced Tea that he ordered today, giving special attention to the straw of the said iced tea. She notices in excruciating slow motion how his tongue darts out first before his mouth engulfs the straw between his lips, notices the way his mouth nibbles on the straw, trapping the plastic between his teeth and sipping on it every now and then.

She has never been so jealous of a straw before.

Damn it.

She sighs as she stands up from her table and orders the strongest black coffee that they could offer.

She determines that she needs more caffeine content today if she wants to get some studying done instead of focusing on the inconveniently good-looking customer before her.

She doesn't get to observe him the next Thursday.

She arrives later than usual on that day, and her de facto table has been overrun by younger students clamoring to do last-minute cramming. She scans the rest of the coffee shop for any other available seat, but it seems that all of them has already been occupied. She silently berates herself for her tardiness that has resulted to a lack of available seats for her. She gives a swift glance at his table, and she observes that he has already been absorbed in his own studying.

Better luck next time, then.

Before she leaves, she passes by the counter to give parting words to Ruffnut, just right after a girl has ordered for a Trenta, no foam, five-shot half-caf, no foam pumpkin spice latte with no foam at an impossible two hundred and ten degrees. After an entire argument lasting almost fifteen minutes—"Look here, rich kid, who gets five shots of espresso and heats coffee to two hundred and ten degrees? You might as well have murdered the latte and sent its soul to the coffee gods!"—Ruffnut manages to look up from behind the counter to grin at Astrid.

"Seems I've lucked out, Ruff," she mutters regrettably at her favorite barista. "I'll see if I can get a seat next time. Looking forward to your holiday flavors!"

"Any suggestions from our favorite patron, then?"

"Make Yaknog for Snoggletog," Astrid replies, returning a mischievous smile. "You still got the recipe I gave you before, right?"

"Ugh," Ruffnut groans in disgust. "More like Yuck-nog, Astrid. That recipe was horrible! But I'm willing to make it again if it sends Snottykins to the hospital like last time. They'll never know the difference between poison and Yuck-nog!"

"Hey, I'm a shieldmaiden-slash-Valkyrie who happens to study Bio-Chem at Berk U," she defends herself, shrugging. "You're the barista, you make it work. Else, I'll have to order for a Trenta, no foam, five-shot half-caf, no foam pumpkin spice quad soy hexagon vortex ugg boots spray tan latte with no foam at two-ten degrees."

Ruffnut sticks out her tongue at Astrid, and Astrid laughs and winks before she leaves the café to head for the library. Looks like it's going to be cheap cafeteria coffee for her today.

She arrives later than her usual time again next Thursday, courtesy of a Netflix marathon the previous night, and to her dismay, the café has already been filled with students. She almost leaves when Heather calls for her attention and points at her usual table.

To her surprise, her de facto table has been untouched despite the number of students, the surface area clean and shining as if it has recently been polished. What's more, there's a cup of coffee and a plate of apple spice granola that has been placed there, and she stares hardly at the table, perplexed.

Was this hers? Last she checked, reservations were not possible in the café to accommodate the number of students, and she most definitely didn't order anything in advance.

A note on the table catches her attention, and she grabs it so that she could read.

For the self-proclaimed Valkyrie who keeps on staring, it reads, here is a Hazelnut Peppermint Mocha—or alternatively, as I'd like to call it—That Holiday Shit You Can Actually Make At Home But You're Still Buying It At Ten Times The Cost In This Café Mocha. It's not the Trenta, no foam, five-shot half-caf, no foam pumpkin spice hexagon spray tan hypotenuse latte with no foam at two-ten degrees you had thought of getting, but I hope it would suffice. :)

Astrid blinks.

She doesn't know if she's flattered that someone would think of reserving her table for her and buying her drinks, or if she's insulted that someone would so blatantly accuse her of staring impolitely. She makes a quick scan of her immediate surroundings, but nothing seems to be out of the ordinary from the usual patrons of the coffee shop.

Her eyes roam the table then, and settles on the drink with her name sprawled on the side, complete with a frothy top and dark chocolate curl toppings. She grabs it and take a tentative sip. A taste of bittersweet mocha with hints of hazelnut and peppermint zing delicately assault her senses. The extra shot of espresso and steamed milk comes in as an aftertaste, but the transition of the flavors is surprisingly pleasant.

Not bad for overpriced coffee.

She whips her head around again to look for anyone who's observing her, waiting for anyone to come up to her and introduce himself. Or herself. It doesn't matter, really.

"One order of Ruby Spice Cider tea with honey for Hiccup!" Heather calls out.

Said guy stands up from his seat and comes up to the counter, and Astrid spares him a short glance. Their eyes make contact, and she feels her heart skip a beat as he blushes when their orbs clash. He immediately averts his eyes and scratches the back of his neck while walking past her to get his drink.

Bingo.

She smiles to herself as she settles in her chair, content with the surprising turn of events.

She goes to the café extra early next Thursday.

She's not a tea person, she never was, but she's scanning the seasonal tea blends of the café anyway, looking for a concoction that he might like. She settles on muffins and Pumpkin Pie Herbal Tea—whatever that means—and places it under his name. She practically begs Heather and Ruffnut to reserve Hiccup's usual table, and she's surprised that they agree so easily. Grabbing her notebook, she tears a page away and scribbles down a note.

For the talking fishbone who needs more caffeine intake, thanks for last week's coffee! I've ordered tea for you as payback. It's called Pumpkin Pie Herbal Tea, which I believe should be translated as Obligatory Autumn Tea Blend. I've no idea if this is actually good, but it sounds fancy, so. :P

She settles in her usual table, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible with her assortment of cupcakes and her Toasted Pecan White Chocolate Mocha—Heather's suggestion this time—despite the fact that her brain is restless with nervousness and her heart is irregularly palpitating in anticipation.

More students file into the coffee shop, but Ruffnut and Heather diligently redirect them to other parts of the café, leading them away from Hiccup's usual table.

The door to the café opens again, and Hiccup finally saunters in, flustered and seemingly disoriented. She tries to surreptitiously observe his actions, and her body practically freezes in a mix of excitement and nerves as he approaches his table and reads her note.

His head snaps towards her direction suddenly, and they lock eyes again for a moment, an electric jolt shooting up her spine at the eye contact. His eyes are gentle and pretty, bright yet unassuming, and just so very mesmerizing that she almost forgets how to breathe. She hurriedly tears her eyes away when she could take no more if the intensity, and pretends to focus on her notes.

She realizes that she's blushing, and she berates herself at her childishness. Astrid Hofferson does not blush.

But her cheeks are heating up, and she doesn't know if it's from getting caught or from realizing that she has gotten herself a stupid, childish crush.

The next few Thursdays are a blissful blur.

The renovation of the café is halfway finished, with the original plan to complete the reconstruction just in time for Snoggletog—that Viking version of winter holidays that Berk U has adopted, not so different from Christmas, just with more booze.

They have settled on an unspoken agreement of buying drinks for the other alternately every week, with the one paying for the drink for that week coming extra early to reserve their tables, and the other deliberately arriving late for the surprise drink. She doesn't know why the baristas so leniently went with the arrangement, agreeing to the reservations even though it was technically not allowed, but she supposes it's one of the perks of being a favorite patron of the café.

Hiccup's note that came with the drink and dessert taunts her the next Thursday—Is that how you call someone who has just reserved a seat for you? I must remind you that in the spirit of Christmas, you must remain civil with me, Shieldmaiden. Name calling shall not be tolerated. :P In the meantime, have this two-shot Vanilla Nougat Panettone Latte, which should be known as Arbitrary European Biscuits In A Coffee Cup with an extra shot of Shut Up, I'm Studying. Enjoy!

Astrid hums as she tastes the blend, a curious fusion of bread and butter flavors with steamed milk and espresso topped with dried fruits. It's an interesting match for the honey pumpkin bread that it is paired with. She responds to the note the next week—

Christmas doesn't come until December, Muttonhead. What do you suggest, though, Oh dear savior? Will terms of endearment work? O.O Here's Spiced Winter Ginger Plum Tea, which is supposed to be a 'dreamy blend of fruit and blossoms accented with plum and ginger,' but I think it should be called Why Are Flowers Included in a Premature Winter Drink?

She watches as he snickers at her reply, and he responds to her in the following week.

Fancy titles would do. Now, you may call me the Great Dragon Master Overlord. No other title is more fitting than that, M'lady. X) Try this double Gingerbread Toffee Nut Latte for today, or Random Christmas Desserts in Coffee with an extra serving of Fuck Midterms.

His reply the makes her laugh softly, and she tastes the cup, noting the delicate mix of sweet and spicy gingerbread flavors mingled with toffee, an extra shot of espresso and steamed milk. The drink is finished with a film of micro foam and ground nutmeg, and it is a pretty sight to see next to the salted almond truffles that the drink is paired with. She's usually indifferent to how food items are paired, but she can't help but feel impressed at his food selection.

She offers him a big, playful grin and a quick thumbs-up from her table, which he returns with a fond smile.

She wants to order a special drink for him the next week, and she realizes during the process of selecting tea that the drinks that she receives from him were not on the menu, even on the café's seasonal selection of blends. She realizes that they were off-the-menu, custom-made drinks.

Before Hiccup arrives that day, she calls on Fishlegs to ask for the best barista that they have in hopes to also order custom-made tea.

"He's not here," Fishlegs murmurs in reply. "He's usually not on duty on Thursdays until the weekend."

"That's a lax number of days off," she comments offhandedly, slightly annoyed.

"Well," Fishlegs ponders, "he's technically not required to come to the café at all since he's the owner and he can come and go as he pleases; still, he's here sometimes to create blends and experiment with coffee for our seasonal collection."

"Oh," Astrid replies softly, then her face grimaces in confusion. "Why haven't I met this guy before?"

"He's only just enrolled at Berk U this semester for his Masters. He graduated in Boston for his engineering degree, but he's taking up his Masters here since it's closer to his home."

Her eyebrows shoot up, and she doesn't hide her surprise, impressed. "He sounds like an interesting guy."

"He is," Fishlegs confirms. "He makes the best blends, you know. Notice the increase in customers for the coffee shop this semester? They're usually here for his creations. And on days when he spends his time not as a barista but as a customer, he pays for his order like all the other patrons."

"But he's not here today, though," she huffs in annoyance again. "Wait, if he's not here on Thursdays, then how the hell does Hiccup provide me with off-the-menu drinks?"

Fishlegs shrugs, seemingly tight-lipped about it, but she does not miss the glint of amusement in his eyes. He urges then that she order soon because of the increasing number of people in the line, and she ends up ordering one of their best-selling tea blends. She decides that she'll just make it up with her notes, then.

Hiccup arrives much later, and she watches him go around his table to collect his note. He blushes, flustered at her writing on the note, and she smirks at his reaction.

Here's Almond Sugar Cookie Black Tea for you today, or as I'd like to call it, Fancy-Ass Tea Worth Ten Books. Nah, I'll just call you Babe. You won't mind that, right, Babe? ;)

It's chaos in the café the next Thursday.

She arrives later than normal as she has planned, considering that it's his turn to pay for drinks now. To her dismay, her usual table has been taken over by other students, four people huddling on the table meant for one. She glances over to his table, and her body freezes. There's a lump in her throat, and for once in her life, she is speechless.

There's another girl in his table.

She's beautiful and blonde and sexy—the bombshell type that any girl would want to kill for. She looks sophisticated, managing to look sexy yet stylish, flirty yet refined. And she's whispering in his ear, her body seemingly too close to his for comfort. He doesn't seem to mind, though, laughing at something that she's whispered, and his eyes sparkle as he looks over at her giggling form.

Of course.

Of course, he's got a girlfriend.

How could someone so irresistibly good-looking stay single? Surely women were clamoring for his attention! She just thought—She thought she had a chance. She thought they had some sort of connection these past few days. She thought he liked her back.

Clearly, she thought wrong.

She wonders if she interpreted all the signals wrong. He was the one who started paying for her drinks, though, right? And what about those notes and sassy remarks? Surely those were signs that he was interested. Or did she just mistake his kindness for affection? Was she someone else for him, then? Another girl on his list of possible girlfriends, perhaps? Or a rebound?

(She doesn't miss the likeness between her and the girl with him in his table. How they were both blonde, both blue-eyed, and both dressed impeccably.)

Something seems to puncture her heart at the thought of it and it makes her head dizzy and her breathing laborious, but this looks like the most logical explanation. Hiccup and this girl must have broken up before he started becoming a customer of the coffee shop, but now that they're back together, he's taken the girl here with him. Yes, that was most likely it. She was a rebound.

The girl's quick kiss on his cheek and his indifference to it seems to confirm this.

Before she can dwell more on her thoughts, however, he notices her, and his eyes immediately widen. He abruptly stands up, calling out for her.

"Astrid—"

But she has already bolted from the café with unnatural speed, and he doesn't make it in time when he reaches outside to look for her.

She doesn't go to the coffee shop next Thursday. And on the next.

The days pass by in a blur, and she buries herself in books and notes and random shit so that she doesn't have to remember. She buys her coffee from the cafeteria every day now, and although it's shitty, she comforts herself with the thought that she's saving more since it costs at least five times lesser than the coffee served at The Edge Coffee Shop.

But she misses the café. She misses the smell of ground coffee beans and the comforting aura the café afforded when it wasn't so crowded. She misses Ruff's annoyance at privileged rich kids, misses Heather's brews. Hel, she even misses the ostentatious names of overpriced coffee blends.

(And she misses him, but she denies it as soon as the idea comes up in her mind.)

(It doesn't matter anyway.)

She doesn't know how many weeks has passed since that last encounter, but she remembers that it's on a Wednesday afternoon when she runs into Heather in one of the halls of the university.

"Where have you been?" Heather almost shouts when they see each other. "You never visit by the café anymore!"

"Around campus," she says, averting her eyes and trying to be as vague and safe as possible. She doesn't want any information about her reaching unwanted people. "I'm sorry, I just got busy."

"Well, you should come by soon," Heather insists. "We've missed you."

Astrid doesn't doubt that.

Heather adds, "He's missed you, too."

Astrid frowns. Now she doubts that.

"Don't say that—" Heather says and Astrid realizes too late that she's said that out aloud "—He still reserves your table, you know. He's made other blends exclusively for you, too. And he's very protective of your table, doesn't let anyone near it anymore except for him. He's pining for you."

She almost rolls her eyes. "I don't think his girlfriend would appreciate that."

"Ex," Heather clarifies. "His ex-girlfriend, Cami. They broke up three years ago, but they remain close friends. They're only just close friends now, you don't have to worry about anything." Astrid looks unconvinced, so she continues, "You must know that on that day, he did try to reserve your table, he really did, but—"

"—Look, it doesn't matter," she says finally, waving Heather off. "He doesn't need to explain anything to me. We don't owe each other anything. Odin, we're not even anything."

Heather is silent for a moment. "But you're not visiting the coffee shop anymore. There must be something wrong."

"I just don't see the need to pass by anymore," she lies, knowing full well that the coffee served there is one of the best she's tasted and it's almost a requirement when she needs a study session. "I've found another coffee source someplace else."

"But you know that we have the best coffee in Berk U!"

"It's all right, it's really only the caffeine I'm after, anyway. It doesn't matter how the coffee tastes like," she lies again.

Heather's fallen face almost makes her guilty. "But you still have to pass by one of these days. I'm never forgiving you if you don't, and Ruff won't let you off that easily."

"Yeah, I will," she says to appease her and to make her drop the subject. "But you have to tell him not to wait for me anymore. We've never even known each other, anyway. From now on, we don't have to reach out to each other."

She knows that Heather disapproves of it, but the barista still nods her head. They part ways then, to go to their respective classes.

She still doesn't go to the café at all after that.

She desperately needs coffee.

Specifically, she needs her favorite coffee shop's coffee.

It's already winter when she decides to go back to The Edge Coffee Shop. It's the week before the Holiday break, and everyone is clamoring to get hold of their caffeine fix. She knows that she has already resolved never to go back to the place, but she's desperate for caffeine fix, too, and the shitty cafeteria coffee won't cut it anymore. So, against the most rational part of her brain, she decides to get a take-out order from the coffee shop.

She's here for the coffee, she convinces herself.

(And she may want to get a glimpse of him just a bit. Just a little bit before the Holiday break.)

(She wonders if he still reserves her usual table for her.)

She's disappointed to see that her usual table has already been infested by first-year students, a small group of five trying to fit themselves in a table for one.

(See, Heather? He really didn't feel anything for her. At all.)

She spares a brief glance at his table, and she doesn't know if she's relieved or crestfallen to see that he's also not there anymore, the table also full of studying students doing last-minute cramming for the tests to be taken before the Holiday break.

Maybe he had already left for good.

Shaking the thoughts out of her head, she proceeds to the queue to line up for drink orders, adjusting the shawl on her neck so that she could breathe a bit more. The snow has already started to cover the entirety of the university grounds, and she has covered herself almost entirely for protection against the cold. She waits in line for her turn, trying not to scan the café to look for a familiar mop of auburn hair.

She's here for the coffee, she convinces herself again.

"My usual order of the signature Flat White with an extra shot of espresso, please," she tells Ruffnut who's absentmindedly checking the watch on the wall. "And please make that a take-out order."

"What do you mean by your usual, lady?" Ruffnut grimaces while fishing a pen, and Astrid realizes that she's sorely missed her antics. "And what's the name I should use—" Ruffnut freezes as she finally looks up at Astrid, and it takes her another few seconds to finally sputter out, "Oh my Thor!"

"Please forget my previous order. I'd like to have a Trenta, no foam, five-shot half-caf, no foam pumpkin spice quad soy octagon rifle spray tan latte with no foam at two-ten degrees," Astrid tries, chuckling a bit. "Hello to you, too, Ruff."

Instead of replying to her, Ruffnut looks around and calls out for Heather and Fishlegs, who are both busy on their own stations. They both look up, though, as soon as Ruffnut calls out for them. "She's here! She's really here!"

Heather and Fishlegs immediately leave their stations, and Astrid looks on curiously as they glance at her, faces immediately becoming excited. Fishlegs is next to her in an instant, grabbing her wrist to take her away from the queue. She raises a brow at Heather's and Ruffnut's grinning faces when she walks away.

"Wait, my order—"

"—You already have one," Fishlegs interrupts, leading her away from the line and deeper into the café. She notices that every seat in the coffee shop has already been taken, and she briefly wonders just how many customers the café already has.

"But—"

"—I'm taking you to the owner," Fishlegs says, waving her off again. "He's been waiting for you, you know. Everyday. He's the first to open the shop every day of the week—even on the weekends, mind you—and he's always the last to leave, trying to see if he could catch a glimpse of you."

"What?" Astrid asks, confused. She realizes that they're heading for the stairs, and they take the flight of steps up towards the second floor. Renovations must have already been finished, then. "I don't even know him, why would he even wait for me?"

"He's given very specific instructions that if we were to see you in the café, we were to direct you here to the second floor, where he has reserved a seat for both of you."

"That doesn't answer my question…"

The view from the second floor is breathtaking, and she trails off and momentarily stops to marvel at the scene shown through the glass walls. The second floor is overlooking the entirety of Berk University, and since it has already begun to snow, the school grounds is covered in a sheet of white powder, making the entire place resemble a winter wonderland.

Fishlegs tugs at her wrist, and she follows him, taking her gaze off the view.

"When the renovations were done, he thought it best that instead of your usual seats near the door, both of you should just stay in the second floor where he got the seat with the best view for you."

She doesn't really listen to anything he says, her eyes now wandering to the interior of the second floor, which is liberally decorated in Christmas ornaments, most notably poinsettias and mistletoe. It's elegantly designed in a modernist setting, and it's also cozy, she supposes, but also full; it's less crowded than the first floor, but every seat is taken, and she wonders just how a seat has been reserved for her.

Fishlegs points at a table, then, and she approaches hesitantly while he follows behind her.

The table for two is notably situated underneath a mistletoe decoration, but as the barista has said earlier, it had the best view in the entire second floor, almost perfect for lovers. The owner's back is facing her, so she doesn't get to have a glimpse of his face.

"He's made a new coffee blend for you, too, by the way," Fishlegs whispers behind her, making her stop for a moment. "The owner made it himself over the last weeks. He got your yaknog recipe from Ruff and he's twisted it a bit. It's that one next to his Dark Chocolate Peppermint tea."

Astrid notices the mug of coffee next to the cup of tea on the table. She doesn't usually attach the word elegant to an object—much more a drink—but this mug of coffee is. The blend looks aesthetically pleasing, with a frothy finishing on top and a dusting of ground nutmeg and cinnamon. An interesting whiff of espresso and eggnog scents in the air is emanating from it as well.

Her thoughts leave the coffee blend and her eyes wander to the owner of the café, who would be the person sitting on the table with his back to her. She almost doesn't recognize the familiar mop of auburn hair that he possessed. And then it hits her—

"Actually, he is the ow—"

Last she checked, reservations were not possible in the café to accommodate the number of students.

She practically begs Heather and Ruffnut to reserve his usual table, and she's surprised that they agree so easily.

She realizes that they were off-the-menu, custom-made drinks.

"He's technically not required to come to the café at all since he's the owner and he can come and go as he pleases; still, he's here sometimes to create blends and experiment with coffee for our seasonal collection."

"He's made other blends exclusively for you, too."

—It's Hiccup.

It explains why he was able to reserve her table in the first place when reservations weren't supposedly allowed, and why Heather and Ruffnut were so lenient when she had first begged for the reservation of his table. It also explains why she always got special, off-the-menu drinks, for he had personally made them for her!

A thousand thoughts run through her mind at the realization, but the one that screams to her the most is that—fuck it, she should turn back and go now. Now.

Before she can run away, however, his neck twists at the noise, and she is frozen on the spot.

His emerald eyes that are framed behind thick-rimmed glasses lock with her sapphire ones for the first time in weeks, and she realizes that she has forgotten just how beautiful they were. A relieved sigh of surprise escapes from his lips, and he immediately stands up to face her. He releases a huge grin then, grateful and pleased and so undeniably delighted that she's overwhelmed by the raw emotions expressed on his face and she's compelled to stay and give him another chance.

"I—" he says uncertainly, rubbing the back of his neck. He looks at her then, his gaze going from hesitant and reserved in one moment to determined and impassioned in the next, and she almost melts at the intensity of his stare.

He tries again—more resolute this time, but also more softly, "I've been waiting for you, M'lady. And I... I would very much be pleased if you could join me for a mug of Snoggletog Yaknog Spice Latte, or as I'd like to call it, the Astrid Death Tonic."

She laughs even before she can stop herself, and he gestures for her to take the last available seat in the café—

The same chair that is positioned right next to his.

END

TL;DR: A twist to the following prompt:

Customer A comes to the coffee shop to work and write. Customer B notices Customer A and takes an interest. Customer A has also been sneaking glances at Customer B, who is quite frankly a specimen of a human being. Customer A comes in one day to find their usual order waiting at their usual table, only milk is missing. Customer B is trying very hard not to laugh. Customer A decides two can play at that game and orders a decaffeinated version of B's usual and sends it to their table in retaliation. After that, every day Customer A arrives to find their usual order but without one certain ingredient. Sugar, milk, coffee, chocolate, caramel etc. One day they arrive to find their usual order, perfect in every way sitting on the table, but this time, the missing ingredient is their chair.

And the only other available seat? Right next to Customer B

Again, thank you very much for all of the reviews, faves and follows for my last few works; they are very much appreciated. And thank you very much for reaching the end of this page as well! Hope you enjoyed it! :)

Please have a merry Christmas and a prosperous new year! Happy holidays! :D