Rookie! Leon meets you for the first time during his first week on the force. He's in his blues, a bright pink sticky note in his hand and brows wrinkled in confusion as he reads over it.
You know the look, so it's easy to tell. Since you started your job you noticed a sort of pattern when rookies came into the café. The older guys would send them on a coffee mission with a long list of orders for them to balance back to the station.
Any other day, this might have irritated you and your coworkers. But Leon had that lost puppy look on his face and even before he opened the door, you were glancing at each other and whispering and giggling about who was going to help him.
You ended up on the register, your fellow baristas hovering over your shoulders to listen and read each order as you rang it in.
The attention makes him nervous, and when he notices how attentive you are, the way you help him with the more obscure drinks ("Yeah, our boss likes to mock the corporate coffees, it trips everyone up"), it makes his ears turn pink.
He'd expected dull eyes, a rush to get him out as quickly as possible but instead? Here you were guiding him through the whole thing and with the rest of your crew pushing most of the drinks out before he even gets the chance to pay.
"Damn, they loved you," one of the officers says when he returns. It's probably one of the quickest coffee runs a rookie's made, and everything was made right!
The station quickly learns that Leon is the one to send if they need things done right and quick. Not that he minds much, it's a chance to see you.
If things are slow when he shows up, he's asking questions and watching you work, cracking a joke here and there to make you smile. If it's busy, he waits patiently, flashes a thankful smile, and is on his way (though disappointed that he didnt get a chance to talk to you).
Soon enough, it becomes a habit for him to stop by on his way to the station, and your coworkers quickly catch on to why he does. He (not so subtlely) asks about you when you're not on shift. Sometimes he catches you coming back with gallons of milk in your hands and offers to help you carry them in. If the morning is especially slow and you and your crew are mixing and matching syrups, he'll try whatever you come up with.
After he leaves, your coworkers tease and grin at you and urge you to leave your number on a cup the next time he comes in. Each time, you refuse because what if they're seeing things? What if he already has someone and is just being nice because he's a genuinely nice guy?
"Nice going, rookie," Elliot says one day, clapping him on the shoulder. He swipes the coffee cup from Leon's desk and there, hidden under the cardboard sleeve, is your number. He didnt even know it was there!
The next day, there's a pep in his step. He's confident, ready to finally take that leap he'd been eyeing these past few weeks.
Through the glass door, Leon can see your coworkers laughing and shaking your shoulders, while you look like you'd rather crawl into a hole.
Because you hadn't written your number on the cup--- one of the others had. And now you didnt know what Leon was going to say. He didn't look upset, so that was good. Maybe he was just going to pretend it didnt happen? Maybe he didnt even notice it at all.
But part of you hoped he did. How that scenario would play out, you had no idea.
The nerves worsened as he drew closer to the counter. A chorus of "Hi Leon!" came from the others, who'd all drawn themselves back to fridges and espresso machines, pretending to be heavily invested in whatever they were doing.
Meanwhile, your heart is pounding in your chest, almost in your throat.
"Just the usual?" You manage once he's finally in front of you.
Your face is flushed and the way you bite your lip and avoid eye contact tells him exactly how nervous you are.
"So, I uh, I found your number," Leon starts. The confidence from earlier begins to waver. He made it this far, he thinks, he has to push through. "And I thought it'd be better to do this in person."
You try to steel your nerves. The moment of truth has arrived.
Leon sucks in a breath, preparing himself.
"Can I take you to dinner?" He asks, almost too quickly to understand.
The café feels too quiet. You can practically feel your coworkers staring you down from behind.
Your mind finally processes the question after a long beat of silence and your voice has disappeared, so you nod vigorously. A wide smile has found its way to your face and whatever tension might have been in his shoulders slips away.
Friday at seven, it's decided.
And as he's leaving, excitement buzzing in his chest, he hears you thanking your coworkers for sneaking your number on that cup.
