[C] Coffee Me Now

One of the reasons she had gone into an artistic job was because artists could pretty much pick and choose their hours. Who expected an artist to work a nine to five job? Fucking no one. That's who.

Which made it perfect for her want to sleep in, and rock up to work at ten past eleven with a coffee in hand and a bad attitude ready to knock some cocky shits down as she tortured them with needles.

Today, though, she had been asked to arrive an hour earlier, to deal with someone else's client, which meant she had to be awake earlier than ten.

Angela never really got on with morning hours in the single digits.

She drummed her dark blue painted nails against the counter as she waited for her coffee.

"Americano for A," the barista called out, holding up a large to-go cup.

Angela swept forwards to grab the cup, with a short "thanks, beautiful."

Adrian was tired. Fu-cking tired. 

His job, probably, had the worst hours ever. One that involved being phoned up at three am to sort out a vampire with a serious case of self-control issues.

Now it was morning, and he couldn't get the fuck to sleep. He needed coffee to get himself through today and write up a stupid report.

He didn't get fucking paid enough. 

At the call for his coffee, he stood over to grab it, only so some bitch to swoop in and grab it.

"Oi!" He shouted after her, causing a few heads to turn. "That's my fucking coffee."

He took a few long strides over to the bitch.

Angela stopped half way to the condiment bar when some asshole yelled at her. She looked back over her shoulder, bare today as she was wearing a black leather corset and a cute ass white cage bra. Her pale eyes assessed him slowly.

If it wasn't for those awful bags under his eyes, he'd be really fucking cute. Shame. All the hot ones either took it up the ass or were cunts to her before she had enough coffee in her system to tolerate it.

"You deaf as well as stupid, fuckface? Americano for A. My Fucking. Order. Asshole."

She smiled, raising her manicured hand and waving with a delicate flutter of her fingers. "So bu-bye now."

And without a backwards glance, she continued on her way to the condiment bar. She wasn't ready to deal with people yet. She hadn't even taken a sip of her coffee yet and some asshole was yelling at her.

Now was not the time to be talking to her.

With a pretty face like that, he didn't expect those words to fall out of her mouth.

He took a few more strides and stood in front of her.

"Americano for A is my fucking order, you stealing bitch."

He knew how it looked, and he knew that games smaller and sweeter looking people played against him. They will make it out that he is in the wrong, and kick up a scene where bystanders will pity them and think he is the ass.

He was tired and he wanted his coffee. Now.


Plus, he fucking paid for it. A whole fucking three euros for the privilege of drinking in some stupid artsy cafe.

Angela realised what had happened right away. A minor miracle considering her caffeine intake was still abysmally low.

So they both had ordered the same thing, and both used their initial rather than their name when ordering.

"Well, what's the fucking chance?" she wondered aloud in amazement.

"There's another order coming out in a moment. Your cute little ass will just have to wait two minutes for it, gorgeous."

Her bright smile was just a tad (extremely) sarcastic as she once again turned her back to busy herself at the condiment bar, counting out six sachets of sugar and tearing the tops off them all to dump in her coffee.

Realisation dawned on him when the other A told him to wait.

Was he going to wait? Fuck no.

"Fuck off, I ordered first."

Was he being petty? Yes. Did he care? No.

"You can wonder your own cute little bitch ass over there and fucking wait. I've had a long ass night, sweetheart, and I am not about to put up with this fucking bullshit- what the fuck are you doing?"

He watched, in horror, with the amount of sugar that had just been dumped into the cup of coffee.

"That is the most fucking disgusting thing I have ever witnessed."

"Aww, poor babe," she crooned with sympathy so mocking that it left a bitter aftertaste in the air. "Late nights too hard for your delicate pretty boy face?"

The disgust on his face made her perk up, and she smiled in bright triumph as she picked up her coffee. As she brushed past him, she patted his shoulder.

"Well, if this coffee's ruined for you, your fine little ass will just have to wait for the next order, won't it?" Her shoulders bounced in a bubbly shrug. Other people's misery did brighten her mood considerably.

"Ta ta, A." She blew him a kiss, then winked as she took a sip of her sweetened coffee.

He watched in disgust as she flounced off.

Why was it that the cute bitches with an attitude were always the hottest ones?

With a slump of his shoulder and a sigh, he turned around as the barista called out a nervous: "Americano for A."

He turned as peopled gawked and murmured to each other in excitement at the scene that had just played out. As expected, everyone had taken her side. No one gave him any pitied looks. 

He took the coffee and left.

He made a little plan to himself as he walked: go to his appointment, write up his report, and send it fucking late because he was promised a fucking night off and fuck those bastards if they think they are getting anything on time, then sleep.

Ah, yes, sleep.

But first, the appointment.

The bell of the tattoo shop rung.

"I have an appointment with Rai, like, now."

If it wasn't for that bitch, he would have been on time.

Angela strode into the parlour, already telling Rafella to fuck off as she passed the annoying bitch and disappeared into the back.

"So why the fuck am I here at this ungodly hour?" she asked Ti as she set her bag down in the back and leaned against the counter. Ti was sat on a couch, flicking through the latest tattoo quarterly.

"Rai's no good today. Bad night," Ti explained, looking upwards at the ceiling as if in explanation.

Angela tutted. "And this is why you don't get a bit to do a cunt's job. What a fucking flake."

Ti shrugged. "It's hard for wolves, you know? That sort of strain."

"You know what else is straining? Med school. I didn't get a day off that when I was running on an hours sleep that week. She has one rough day a month and spends three day in bed with her Iranian boy toy. I'd love a day off sitting on some hot massive cock. Can I have that please?"

Ti laughed as, from the front, Rafaella hollered "Angela!"

"Fucking coming," she called back, picking up her coffee and ambling towards the front of the shop.

"-Assure you, Angela is just as good as Rai," Rafaella was telling her client.

"Stop telling the customers lies, Raf. I promie you, they just dragged me in off the streets and put a- Oh, hello, gorgeous. Miss me already?"

Angela smirked, leaning against the counter as her eyes fell on hot but-entirely-too-sleep-deprived coffee guy.

Adrian listened to the receptionist drone on about how the artist he booked with wasn't in, and he had to put up with some fucking replacement. Great. Perfect. Fucking fantastic. He couldn't get his deposit back. 

His mismatched eyes turned up to the replacement, Angelica, when she announced herself and was greeted with the fucking thieving bitch. The other A.

He looked up at whatever godly force there was. They had it out for him, didn't they?

"That's right. Followed all the way back here just for the joy of being insulted by someone who looks like they shop in the kids section."

He was pissed and tired and really didn't feel like being nice to the person that was about to shove a needle in him.

Was that his idea for an insult? Bringing up that she was short?

Maybe the poor bastard did need that coffee more than she did.

"Trust me, baby boy, you wont find what I wear under this in the kids section." She dropped him a flirty wink, and gestured for him to follow her into the back.

"Follow me for the privileged of being insulted by someone who looks like they shop in the kids section as she stabs you multiple times with some very sharp needles."

He attempted to take another long chug of coffee. There was nothing left. With a sigh, he chucked it into the bin. 

"Can't fucking wait," he muttered as he followed her through.

He kicked his sandals (Who the fuck has time to stumble out of bed at three am and put on some proper shoes?) and took a seat in the chair, propping his leg up.

"Mess it up and you're not getting another fucking penny out of me."

Angela bustled about, prepping the station for him.

"Well, there goes my brilliant plan to fuck up my portfolio," she huffed, actually pausing to snap her fingers.

She began wrapping the rest for his foot.

"Do I get a name from you, A, or should I just keep calling you baby boy?" She was a-okay with the latter option.

Adrian closed his eyes, foot twitching a little under her hands, but he took this short five minutes of sitting down to get a little shut-eye before the bitch started stabbing him with presumable glee. On his fucking foot, too.

Fuck the other artist for suggesting to him that his foot was a good place to put it. Fuck. Her.

"You can call me whatever the fuck you want, sweetheart. It hasn't stopped you so far."

Her lips kicked up in a grin. "All right, hot stuff, whatever the fuck I want?"

She leaned over him, her dainty hands moving to slip under his shirt and run over his stomach. She hummed in appreciation. "Hunky McAbs," she decided on.

Not exactly her crowning achievement for nicknames, but he was fucking hot, and if he got a few hours sleep, and a proper shave, he'd be damn near perfect.

She patted his stomach then sat back on her stall. "Foot up, Hunky. Time for the fun."

He hummed. Yep. Whatever the fuck she wants.

It wasn't like he was going to see the bitch again.

He jolted when he felt a less than shy hand sneak up his shirt. Well, she certainly wasn't fucking shy. 

Much to his own distaste, he snorted at her choice of nickname.

He kicked his foot up and waited for her to get on with her job.

"Don't get too wet over this."

"No promises, babe."

She positioned the transfer, pausing to ask him if that was the right placement, before carrying on.

"Watching grown men cry and faint over this is my favourite part of this job. It just gets me going so much," she purred, eyes searching out his to give him a mock-heated look.

"Oh, fuck, now that's some freaky shit right there." She leaned forwards to get a better look at his eyes. "You a chimera, or did that develop later?"

He blinked slowly at her.

"Am I a fucking what now?"

Then it hit him. Ah. Right. His eyes.

"Born with it. Before you start with any witty pick up like, I have heard all of them. All. Of. Them."

His mismatched eyes dropped down to his foot.

"Shouldn't you be doing your fucking job?"

"Chimera," she confirmed, then ran her tongue over her teeth. "Genetically speaking, if I fucked you, I'd be fucking two men at once. A clean threesome without the third party mess. Shame there's just one cock."

Her eyes drifted shamelessly to his crotch. "Is there just one?"

She patted his cheek then sat back at his jibe about doing her job.

"Ready for this, Hunky McAbs?"

She connected her gun, and the familiar and soothing buzz began, but she waited for him to give his go ahead before actually starting.

He raised an eyebrow. He certainly hadn't heard that one before.

That science shit didn't interest him, but he appreciated her talking in simple man's terms. 

"Just the one in there."

Thank fuck. 

He nodded his head as she turned on the gun.

"Have a fuck-ing ball."

As soon as she started he took in a deep breath as he kept his composure. Fuck, that hurt more than his biceps. It also woke him up a bit more.

"Aw, now that's a shame. Guess there are always dildos for DP, though. Or another man. Or a babe with a strapon."

She was merciless, but not overly brutal with the way she worked. It was quick and clean, but on this part of the foot, it had to be deep and steady for the ink to stay. He was going to be feeling this.

"You can decide whether you want colour after the linework is done, gorgeous." She'd had a lot of people tap out after the liens were done, which was fair enough. Even she thought the foot was painful, and she'd gone and experimented on her own foot with something a little more painful than your average tattoo there.

She wiped blood from the site when she was done with the basic outline, then began going back over lines to thicken them up. This was the more painful part of the linework. She was essentially torturing already wounded flesh.

He gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on the armrest of the chair. Fuck off as if he was going to grunt like a baby in front of this bitch.

"Bet you'll enjoy that, wouldn't you? Spend all that extra fucking time with me- fuck me," he hissed.

Great. Fucking great. He was so distracted by talking he didn't realise she had moved onto shading. Fucking shading.

Her pale eyes danced with mirth as they flickered up to watch his face strain. "Aww, baby boy, its no fun for me if you hide all those pretty reactions. Cry just a little for me, gorgeous?"

She wanted some damn reaction. This tense silent thing was a challenge, but it got boring fast when it turned out he was stronger than she'd hoped.

Angel opened her mouth to make a comment about how much she'd enjoy it, when he swore.

Fucking finally, a reaction. Just what she wanted.

"Well, if you're offering, gorgeous. I have a few piercings lined up for today, but after those are done, I'm free for the taking." The look in her eyes told him exactly what she wanted there.

He hissed between his teeth to stop himself from searing again.

Honestly? Fuck the woman who him to get this on his foot. Fuck this woman for shoving needles in his foot with a grin. Sadists, the lot of them. Fucking sadists.

"Sweetheart, my schedule is fully booked for the next what? Fuck - month."

He closed his eyes and tilted his head back.

She tutted lightly. "The hot ones are always whores."

Her blood and ink stained rag ran over his half-shaded tattoo, to check the progress.

She'd actually been half hoping that he would decide to fuck her. He was hot and her sex life was looking a little barren these days. She wanted a nice good fuck, and he had a nice abrasive attitude, and a pretty face. She could see him fucking her nice and rough.

Angela was lulled by the buzz of the gun, and its change of pitch when it was embedded in his skin, as she continued shading diligently.

"Ready for colour, Hunky, or are you tapping out?"