Coffee Shop Monster AU (Because Canon Sucks #7)

Chapter One

Author’s notes:

I’m posting this in the middle of the night ‘cause I just had to! I read the “Canon” story and I got so invested until the very end when I sat the book in the corner and yelled “what did you do?” at it.

I was at the local cafe this morning when some dude upturned a basket of apples.

This one-shot is inspired by that dude (I want #Rolo to get at least HFN) Also, I want the story to be more realistic, so it’s set in our world where cryptids have been out for centuries.

I’m making it a bit more accepting cause I’m a sappy little shit and because I can!

Rowan

If anything could save this horrid morning, it was a cup of coffee. But only if I got it fast enough.

I stood in the line that curved through the coffee shop and past the open door to the sidewalk, and wished I’d learned to meditate or anything else that could help me not lose my shit when waiting a long time.

Tapping my bare, hairy foot didn’t make the line move any faster.

Neither did looking at the watch on my wrist, which reminded me I had a meeting in half an hour.

People were usually either afraid of me, or just stayed out of my way.

Even in tolerant cities, a bigfoot drew attention.

Must be the ginger hair all over my body.

Or my seven-foot height. But apparently, in this small town and local coffee shop, no one cared, and definitely not enough to get me my java faster so I could split.

I took a deep breath and looked around the place.

The early 2000s aesthetic gave off a cozy vibe with its warm color scheme and brown sofas, but it seemed a little tired and in need of an update.

Among the myriad frames on the walls were photographs of the area I vaguely recognized and people who visited—on a closer look, these weren’t famous stars but regulars and maybe family or friends of the owners.

Two human-presenting ladies appeared in many pictures, posing or caught mid-conversation with various cryptids and humans alike.

Cryptids have been out for centuries. Not only ones like me who have no choice—with our preternatural parts right there for everyone to see—but also those who could shift or have hidden abilities.

Despite this, we still faced a lot of prejudice from people.

The political parties and movements trying to put us back into the monster closet definitely weren’t helping, either.

I’d always treated myself to a coffee each morning, but it used to be from a chain place around the corner from my office.

Until last week, when the company I work for had decided to move to a smaller town to save money while the main offices were being renovated.

So for the duration of the summer, I lived in a hotel and suffered a long line to buy a cup of non-branded java.

Everyone seemed to know everyone in this place.

Parents with strollers, elderly folk, young professionals with laptops—they were all chatting away, clearly comfortable in each other’s presence.

The thing about small towns was that everyone could name the last three generations in your lineage.

That low-key freaked me out. I loved the anonymity of living in a big city.

Even family-friendly Chicago gave me the peace I needed when I lived in a high-rise downtown.

Someone bumped into my shoulder, startling me from the trip into my head.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” said a slim guy with the lightest blonde hair I’d ever seen. Squatting next to me, he picked up an apple that had fallen from the basket in his arms while another one rolled across the floor and under someone’s chair.

“It’s okay,” I said, unable to keep the gruffness from my tone.

“Ooop, fuck fuck fuck.” He flailed one arm as he was balancing to get up.

On instinct, I grabbed the basket full of bananas, apples, and pears from him. The damn thing was too heavy to haul for such a skinny dude. Was this place not treating him well?

Relieved of the weight, the guy sprang up like the Easter Bunny on crack and grinned from ear to ear. “Thanks. Want an apple?” He offered me the fruit from the basket I was still holding.

“No thanks, I’m here to grab a coffee. But I can carry this for you.

” On a closer glance, he was slim but not skinny, and the short sleeves of his white T-shirt stretched over some muscles.

His apron was baby blue with a cappuccino cup logo that had a snake weaving around the handle and an eye floating inside with the name of the place underneath: Cryptid Cafe.

Above this logo, on the left side of the apron, was a worn rainbow Cryptid Alliance pin.

The symbol on the pin was instantly recognizable, having been around for fifty years.

With its horns, tentacles, tails, and circle of rainbow colors inside, it had been popularised by rebels protesting against a government that had continually forced us to suppress our preternatural abilities.

Sure, no one could do me any harm here, but finding a welcoming establishment in a tiny town was the kind of luck I wasn’t expecting.

“Oh, no bother. I’m stronger than I look.” He winked at me and absconded with an armload of woven bamboo.

Taken aback, I gawked after him until his spiky, electrocuted-looking hair disappeared behind the staff door.

That innocent, throwaway wink sent heat to my cheeks.

I did not blush. Not ever. Also, my body was covered in short fuzzy hair all over, so no one would be able to tell even if I did.

Or at least I thought so…I ran a hand down my face. This morning was something else.

A hot day in northern Illinois had forced me to leave my suit jacket at the hotel, roll up the sleeves of my white shirt, and pop the top three buttons open.

Not too scandalous. I avoided ties like the plague.

My thermoregulation was helping me in summer, and despite having hair all over, I didn’t sweat as much as a regular human.

Only two people remained in the line in front of me, and the young, green-haired woman handled them quickly.

“One second, please,” she said, and fished her phone out of her apron. Her face scrunched when she saw the screen. “I’m sorry, I’ll be right back.”

I groaned and looked up at the ceiling, which had a leak in the corner and a patchwork of repairs done on it. “Fuck my life. I’ll never get out of here.”

“It’s not a bad place to stay forever, just saying.” The blond guy materialized in front of me like a magician. His perma-grin would be creepy if he weren’t so cute.

“Not when I have a meeting to attend. Can I get a black coffee, please?” Attempting not to be too grumpy was hard. But it wasn’t this guy’s fault that the place was so popular with locals in the morning. I glanced at his name tag with sparkly stickers on it. “Milo.”

“Of course. If you don’t take milk, then maybe you’d be interested in one of our special flavors. The sea salt chocolate is my favorite. It tastes like pretzels.” He leaned in to whisper the last part.

I hesitated. That sounded delicious. “Okay, I’ll try that. If it won’t take longer to make.”

“Nope. Will be in your hands fresh and ready in a few blinks.” He swiveled on his heel and got the heavy stainless steel contraption working. The intoxicating smell of coffee in the air intensified. “Help yourself to the snacks.”

Huh? I glanced at the counter and, sure enough, next to the fruit stood another basket with tiny packets of raisins, nuts, and…

pretzels. The card said: “complimentary with purchase”.

Well, fuck me. I pinched the baggie with my favorite indulgence and lifted it to read the short list of ingredients.

Locally made too. Each one had a different pun on it.

Mine read: “Don’t be bitter, be chocolaty.

” I snorted and slid a tenner into the tip jar. Well deserved.

A little girl skipped to the counter. “Milo, you lost this apple.”

“Finders keepers, Dottie,” he said over his shoulder, finalizing my drink. “You can have it, if you want. And don’t forget the raisins for your grandma.”

“Thankies!” She grinned, bit into the fruit, grabbed a snack bag, and ran off to an elderly couple occupying the nearby sofa.

“Won’t you get in trouble for giving stuff away?” I asked and took the white-lidded baby-blue coffee cup he held out to me.

“Not when it goes to good people, no.” His gaze was full of playful mischief as it drifted up to my face. “Enjoy. And see you tomorrow.” He tapped the sign by the counter that said “Java nice day!”

I opened my mouth to say I wouldn’t be back, but that would be a lie considering how close this place was to my new office.

“Yes. Thank you.” I lifted the cup to my lips and—oh dear gods of the land and sea—a divine mix of strong coffee and salty chocolate burst onto my tongue. I swallowed on my way to the exit, and a moan escaped me.

Milo giggled behind me.

Fuck. He’d heard me. Good thing I never blush.

Author's notes:

I’m sorry. It’s not a one-shot. The next chapter will drop in two days. Also, the story is based in my hometown, Wendigo Falls, because I love it here and I’m going all Stephen King, placing everything in Maine. Sue me.