Chapter Text
Truthfully, it's a nice cafe. Upon it's opening three months prior his curiosity hadn't tempted him to stop by. Let others be the guinea pigs, Satoru thought, patiently stalking their social media and keeping an eye on the morning queues soon sprawling onto the footpath. Paired with gushing reviews praising seemingly everything on the menu, the atmosphere, and the service, things looked promising but Satoru as been scalded before. A good social media campaign can do wonders for a new business and WINDOW’s is suspiciously well executed. It doesn’t hurt that the staff appear to be decently attractive – no real competition to Satoru’s own looks but that’s an unfairly high bar.
Taking the plunge, Satoru starts visiting in the afternoons, avoiding the morning and lunch rushes but still allowing plenty of time to soak in the atmosphere before closing. Huge glass panels behind the counter give patrons a direct view of the production of the pastries and roasting of the coffee beans. Satoru takes in the satisfying stretch of kneaded mochi dough, the hand shaping of icing petals and the expert spinning of nets of caramelised sugar. On a couple of memorable occasions he watches beans roasted in a frying pan over an open flame. It’s all very entertaining and fills the air with a decadent perfume of sugar, spice and rich coffee, possibly strong enough to make up for Satoru’s lack of scent patches or neutralising spray. He’s not trying to be a jerk about, he just has really sensitive skin, okay?
It’s an overall winning experience, the vibes are great, the selling-point visually appealing and the pastries are so delicious he doesn’t even mind long-suffering stare the head pâtissier gives him whenever he’s lucky enough to serve Satoru. The coffee however…
Look, Satoru's aware the time he visits is likely to blame; the mid-afternoon lull is the perfect time for less-experienced staff to practice their craft. Yet in the face of such glowing reviews, Satoru believes his criticism justified. If they’re going to promote themselves as the best, Satoru will expect such standards be met. That and he does enjoy how flustered he can make the junior staff when he grills them over the minutiae of his orders, like he is right now-
"You've finally managed to get the milk smooth enough, but the flavour, yeesh. I timed you so I know the pour wasn't too short. It’s really quite impressive you managed to make it taste this bad."
He’s looking into the cup as though it will provide the answer he’s looking for but from the corner of his eye he can see the kid’s jaw clench as she struggles to maintain composure.
"Did you leave it on the head too long? I didn't time you for that. Maybe next time-"
"Can I help you with something?" an unfamiliar voice interjects.
The new arrival looms over him, angling himself between Satoru and the girl he’s teasing. Unlike his voice, the man’s appearance is well known to Satoru, having frequently observed the near-meditative quality with which he operates the roasters and processes the beans. The scent from it clings to his skin, hanging in the air in a manner uncannily reminiscent to pheromones. Thankfully the hospitality-grade scent patches the staff wear are as sickeningly vibrant as always, saving Satoru the embarrassment of an understandable yet misguided comment.
"And you are?" Satoru says, angling a look over his shades.
"Getou Suguru – co-owner, senior barista and roaster. If you have any issues regarding our product, I'd be happy to field your questions."
"Ah, perfect,” Satoru says, leaning back in his chair in a subtle show of dominance over the space, “So according to your website, several of your blends claim to be award winning. I was just curious if you paid off the judges or are your staff just naturally skilled at making good unpalatable?"
Suguru doesn’t falter, his serene smile swallowing the criticism. Satoru had hoped for more but facial expressions were so easy to mask compared to scent.
"Our staff are well trained however mistakes do occur. If you would like, I'd be happy to personally remake your drink. Given my experience I'm sure I can come up with something fitting your standards," Suguru says in a tone befitting a paid actor.
Making a show of considering his drink, Satoru huffs, as though he’s the one being put out, "I doubt there's anything you could do to make this any worse, so by all means, go wild."
If he weren’t watching so closely, Satoru would probably have missed the delightful clench of the manager’s jaw, and he internally laments that he likely won’t return here after today. Smiling at Suguru’s retreating figure, Satoru brainstorms a plan for a truly memorable finish.
He splits his time watching people and the clock as he waits, folding the branded serviettes into origami animals that he leaves scattered across the table top; cat, crane, rabbit, sauropod. He’s considering whether he should leave or try making an elephant when Suguru reappears through a door marked Staff Only. Striding over he gracefully places the new drink down, perfectly poised bar the flush marring his otherwise neutral face.
The type to get red in the face when he's annoyed then. Just like Utahime. Looks good on him though.
Which is a perfectly normal thought to have about a barista you just met and plan on upsetting – Satoru just appreciates the finer things in life. It’s not his fault the barista in question looks like he moisturises every day and has largely symmetrical features.
"Apologies for the wait,” Suguru says, saving Satoru from his runaway thoughts, “I thought something off-menu might better suit your tastes. If you'll excuse me, I should get back to roasting."
Satoru lets him escape, shifting his attention to his new beverage. Staring back at him from the foam is a startlingly impressive rendition of an ejaculating cock and balls, complete with a proportionately subtle knot at the base. He can’t pretend he isn’t a little smitten at the sight of it, not to mention incredibly amused. He snaps several pictures, making sure to send some to Shoko with the caption I’m in love <3. It’s surely meant to scandalise him but joke’s on Suguru – this is exactly Satoru’s kind of thing.
Warmth suffuses his palm as he lifts the mug to his lips, pausing to inhale the aroma. It smells like coffee, good coffee, but there's something else hidden beneath the bittersweet notes of the beans, teasing the edges of memory. Mouth watering, Satoru takes a tentative sip, eyes falling shut as it washes over his tongue.
Initially there’s a burst of coffee, silky-rich over his palette, full and dark and exactly what he’s looking for. The balance is phenomenal, Satoru can’t recall the last time he experienced so perfect a blend, but the real magic comes with the subtle notes that leak through. They’re elusive, almost flirtatious as they tantalise his taste-buds in an olfactory game of hide-and-seek. Eagerly he takes a larger sip.
They're familiar flavours- traditional, things carefully crafted by calloused hands mottled with sun spots. He can vividly picture the crisp, nuttiness of goma-dango, the smooth umami of sweetened chestnut paste and the moreish delight of his ever beloved mochi. Seeking more of the enticing bouquet Satoru drinks more, sips soon morphing into gulps until before he knows it his cup is empty. Warmth pools in his gut, his pulse racing.
Caffeine must be hitting harder than I thought.
Dazed, he stands, floating over to the counter, mind still on his drink as he waits in queue. The girl behind the counter eyes him anxiously when it’s his turn to pay. This is usually the part where he’d say something – chiding her for an imagined lack of customer service skills, telling her it’s not too late to change careers, that sort of thing. Yet all he can muster is a distracted "Back tomorrow," before he’s retreating out the door.
The rest of the day drifts by, phantom flavours lingering on Satoru’s tongue well into the evening. An odd prickling feeling plagues his skin at the strangest times, accompanied by an unexpected degree of horniness, likely from not having fucked for a couple of weeks. He considers reinstalling (k)Notify, but after the disaster of his last hook-up he’s not sure he’s in a hurry to expose himself to another potential stalker, especially when he’s just settled into his new apartment. Instead he resorts to the ever classic past time of beating one out in the shower, making a note to dust off his AV collection and schedules a date with his favourite onahole later in the week.
Libido crisis sorted, he spends the rest of his night pondering more important things – like how to get Suguru to make him that delicious coffee again.