coffee (that kisses you) — polyam night shift x reader
You own a cafe that Abbot, Shen, and Ellis like to frequent after their shift. You may or may not be harbouring a crush on them.
Pairings: Polyamorous Jack Abbot x Reader x John Shen & Parker Ellis x Reader. Word count: 1.5k Tags: Reader is bisexual; Reader owns a cafe. Notes: this was meant to be under 1k but idk how to do that, apparently.
Cross posted to AO3.
There’s small cafe around the corner from the PTMC that opened its doors two months ago. A chalkboard A-Frame sign on the street that displays discounts for medical professionals.
7 AM marks the start of day shift, and the end of night shift. And like clockwork, they file in, a bell chiming overhead.
“What if I change it up?” Shen muses, hands stationed on his hips, staring up at the blackboard menu of drink selections.
Behind the counter, you can’t disguise the way your mouth drops. Gaze dropping to the already prepared drinks sitting on the serving tray. “Oh.”
“I’m kidding. I’m kidding, I’m so sorry. I was kidding.” His hands on the edges of the tray, stopping you from dragging it back to your side of the counter space.
“No, I mean, you can try something new if you—”
“Oh, I absolutely don’t want to. I’m a creature of habit.”
Ellis, who’s already claimed their table, laughs. “Shen, buddy.”
“I’m sorry,” Shen says again, but he’s grinning like it’s the best prank he’s ever initiated.
You shake your head. “You know, I don’t think you are. But I’ll accept it.”
Shen beams. You think he winks at you, but you’re pretty sure that’s just you and your wishful thinking.
Abbot slides in next to him, tapping his card against the EFTPOS machine. “Thank you. Sorry about him.”
“Thank you. Enjoy.” You wave them off.
Their table stays quiet for the first 15 minutes as they always do, unwinding from their shift in companionable silence.
You keep working, and as it passes 8 AM, they leave, as they always do. The three of them don’t come every day, but it’s close enough that you’ve learned their orders and names.
You’ve never quite breached the wall of hospitality you’ve upheld, but something changes after Shen’s stunt.
Three days later, they’re back again, albeit later than seven. The tinkling of the bell signalling their arrival after the morning rush. They probably had to put in some overtime, if the tired way they shuffle through the cafe door is of any indication.
You tell them you’ll be a moment, and they sit at their usual table while you work on their order. When you’re done, you walk to them, balancing the serving plate.
“Whoa, what’s this?” Ellis’ hand on yours, stopping the trajectory of your hand after you set her latte down.
You falter, staring at her hand. The hand that’s touching yours. “What’s what?”
Her thumb brushes over the dark smudge below your knuckles. Voice lowering, “Did you get hurt?”
Movement from the other two, attention snapping onto you.
“Oh. No—it’s paint.” Flexing your fingers in her hold. It hadn’t come off in the shower, or through your rigorous hand washing, and you’d forgotten about it.
“You paint?”
“Yeah. I wanted some new pieces for my wall.” You gesture the serving tray towards the wall of small canvas pieces you’ve hung up. Because Ellis is still holding your other hand. Whatever. That’s normal. You don’t need to freak out about it.
“You painted those?”
“I did, yes.”
Ellis lets go, pushing out of her chair, walking over to inspect the pieces closely. “Damn. You got talent.”
“Ah—thank you.” You’re both relieved she let go, but mourning the loss of contact. Fingers closing around the tray you’re holding, now in both hands.
“How much for one?” Abbot cranes his neck, studying them from where he’s sat.
“They’re—I did them for fun. I’m not selling them.” You’re shaking your head as you chuckle, attention falling onto Abbot.
“I’m serious. Name your price. I could do with a few pieces in my place.”
“Ugh, look at the big shot attending, with his big attending money,” Shen says, rolling his eyes.
“You’re an attending too—”
“I’m not trying to buy a painting—”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re just jealous of my big attending brain because you didn’t think of it first—”
“Shut up,” Shen sniffs, shoving Abbot’s shoulder. “Hey, I think the pedes floor in the Pitt were talking about wanting a makeover.”
“They were. You should put your name in for it,” Abbot says to you.
“The—I’m sorry, the what?” You blink, looking between the two of them.
“Hospital. Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center. Pitt for short, since PTMC is still a mouthful.”
Ellis is back. She bumps her shoulder against yours gently. “We could probably update our pedes room too. You’d get to see us in our element if you’re down in the ER.”
Abbot’s face does something complicated at the mention of the pedes room.
“Yeah, that’d be a good idea,” Shen says.
“I can’t—I just do this for fun.”
“They’ve got the vision. They just need the artists.” Leaning into Abbot’s shoulder, Shen holds his phone out to you. “Put in your name and number, and I’ll pass it onto… admin? Or whoever handles this.”
You stare at his phone. Long enough that he starts wiggling it in your direction.
“C’mon.”
You gingerly take his phone, inputting your details. Missing the way Ellis shoots Shen a look, rolling her eyes at the completely smug grin on his face.
Abbot elbows him, despite not seeing the expression. He’s sure he can feel it, though.
“Great,” Abbot says, when you hand Shen his phone back. “So we’ll get to see more of you, then.”
“Yes, we will.” Ellis’ hand on the small of your back as she passes behind you, taking her seat again.
Your mind feels blank. You’re saved by the bell ringing, a couple entering. You scurry behind the counter with a quick thank you to the doctors.
“You lose the kids in the divorce?” A warm smile when Abbot steps towards the counter.
Abbot chuckles, shaking his head. “Is that what they said?”
The morning consisted of only Ellis and Shen. Of course you noticed that Abbot wasn’t there. Ellis informed you it was Abbot’s day off—perks of being a senior attending. Shen, the little shit that you’re learning he is, told you that he was going to tell Abbot that he was sorely missed by their favourite barista.
“No, but I’ve got an active imagination that can fill in the blanks. The usual for your day off, Dr Abbot?”
“Yeah. And it’s—just Jack.” He’s come in at a time when the cafe’s quiet. No other customers around. He watches you fill the portafilter with ground coffee. Tap it out, flatten it with the puck. “You hear back from admin yet?”
“No, not yet.” You’re not expecting anything, really.
“Hey, I got it on good authority they’ve got the contracts ready.”
“Thanks for the insider knowledge.” You incline your head, smiling as you affix the portafilter to the machine. Press the button for the shot. Mug underneath.
“You planning on closing up when you’re in there?”
Steaming the milk. “Don’t think I can. Cafe’s too new. Still trying to find my feet.”
“You’re still going to open?”
“Place isn’t going to run itself.”
Jack makes a displeased noise, but doesn’t say anything more on it. He takes his usual seat, despite the table being empty of its usual occupants. Saucer, then mug on top. You walk it over to him.
You take down one of your older paintings from the wall. A sunset you replicated. The image still resides on your phone, a memory captured in time. Set yourself by his table. “Here.”
He stares at it. Then drags his gaze up to you. “I thought you said you weren’t selling it.”
“I’m not selling it. I’m gifting it.”
“No, I can’t just take—”
“Please.”
Jack falls quiet. “Okay.” Carefully takes the canvas from you, studies your brush strokes.
“Thank you,” you say. Then you’re back behind the counter as another customer walks in.
It’s not until after he leaves, and you’re cleaning up the tables, do you notice the two $100 bills tucked under his saucer.
A week later, you receive an email from the PTMC’s Administration team about your expression of interest when you’re in your kitchen, testing out a new recipe for brownies.
Then, incoming texts from a new number:
check your emails :) oh it’s john shen btw :)) night shift dr regular with abbot and parker
You stare at both the email and texts for hours.
Why the hell not? You respond to the email. And to Shen, you text back a simple thank you to which he responds with another smiley face.
The next time you see them in the cafe, you set down three plates of bagels at their table. “I’m testing out something new.”
“You made these?” Ellis asks.
You nod.
She pulls out the chair next to her. “Sit.”
“I need to—”
“You’ve been on your feet all day,” Abbot says.
“It’s my job.”
“Oh, you’re too cool to hang out with us?” Shen pokes.
“No,” you sigh, knowing this is a losing battle. They’re ganging up on you, and you’re weak willed against them.
You take the seat next to Ellis as they chatter, pivoting from hospital speak.
A thought, daring but there—you could get use to this.
