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It had been her dream since the ripe age of seventeen to own a coffee shop. Was that a silly dream? Absolutely not. While all her classmates had been toiling away to get into university, she already had years of experience being a barista under her belt. With the help of some inheritance from her grandfather’s unfortunate passing and his old shop lease, she transformed a therapy office into a beautiful orange and brown themed cafe.
The walls were polished brown wood, and the floors tiled in beige. The small seats were the same dark wood as the walls, and tables were covered in a peachy coloured tablecloth each. Posters plastered the walls with outdated local events that no longer ran, and upcoming ones. Some quiet music played as she hummed and cleaned up some mugs that had been returned to the counter.
‘Caramel Apple’ was Kimura Hinako’s biggest pride and joy. She’d never regret the effort she put in to run it.
It was a quiet Monday morning. It was nearing six am, where she had already served a wave of early rising construction workers. Next would be the hero agency staff, then the breakfast rush. Every weekday played out exactly the same.
Except this one.
She carefully poured a leaf as the top of the coffee she was about to walk out to a waiting customer when the bell rang, signalling a newcomer. She barely noticed it, instead picking up her creation to deliver it to her customer.
She gave little whispers to herself as she went, blowing streaked brown and blonde hair out of her face. “Don’t spill it, Hinako. Don’t spill it. You’ve done this for too long to spill anything now.”
But, of course, as luck has its way she bumps a table a customer had moved earlier that morning and goes tumbling forward with a shout. Another more angry shout accompanies her and she goes thudding into the floor, hot coffee spilling everywhere as another loud thud of someone else falling to the floor resounds through the cafe.
“Oh my god.” She huffed, wincing as she tried to push herself onto her knees. Her wrist radiated pain. “Fucking fuck. Ow. Oh my god. I-I’m sorry, are you alright -”
The man that had fallen with her was broad, muscly and had features so sharp they could cut stone. He was holding himself up from behind with his arms, the coffee spilt all down his front. Blonde hair stuck out from under his green cap that matched the green pants he was wearing, but his black mask did nothing to cover the rage in his eyes.
“Are you fucking insane? Is it possible for you to watch where you’re going? How hard is it to carry a mug, you dumbass?”
His attractive face did not apparently mean kindness. Hinako found herself disappointed, but sneered at him. “How hard is it to use your eyes and see that there was someone walking towards you with a fragile cup of - Ow, fuck! Just - God. Wait.”
She gripped her wrist, begging herself not to cry from frustration as she got to her feet. “I probably broke my wrist because of you, prick.”
“And that’s my problem how?” He snapped.
She rolled her eyes at him before looking at the customer she was trying to serve. “Sorry, sir, I’ll remake your coffee right away.”
“D-D-Don’t worry about it…” He responded meekly, already getting up to leave.
He scampered out the door and she gripped her wrist tighter, which made it hurt more. Her furious beige gaze turned back to the burly man who was now also on his feet, black sweater soaked with coffee. She did feel a smidge bad. She hissed with pain but took a deep breath to collect herself.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that to you and I’m deeply apologetic for spilling hot coffee on you. Could I make it up to you by giving you one on the house? I could even wash and dry your sweater.” She offered. She felt like the barely concealed anger in her eyes was definitely getting across to him.
His blood red eyes, sharp like knives, creased like he was smirking under that stupid mask. “You sure can. I’ll take a large cappuccino with two pumps of caramel. I’ll have to pass on the sweater. I’m in a fucking hurry, actually.”
She wanted to roll her eyes at this rude dickhead so very badly. “Of course, sir. Take a seat and I'll bring it out to you.”
“Hopefully without tripping like a ditz.” He muttered under his breath.
She pretended not to hear him and promptly turned on her heel to go back to the counter to make his stupid coffee. Her wrist continued to kill while she made his coffee and she delivered it to the infuriatingly handsome man placing it on the table much harder than she should have.
“Here you are, sir.” She said with a forced smile. He was smirking again, she could feel it. “Please enjoy.”
His eyes roved over the mug and then flickered to her wrist that was much too red. “Did you fuck your wrist when you tripped?”
“No.” She responded icily, tucking her hand behind her back. “I should get to cleaning that mess. Have a nice day.”
—
She had BROKEN HER WRIST.
Of course, she still ran the cafe. Somehow. How did she do it with a huge cast around her forearm? She had no idea. It was actually only the very next morning as she slowly made herself a coffee in her slow period.
The bell rang. She didn’t look up from where she was sipping her vanilla latte and scrolling on her phone through the recent news. “Deku announced number one again? Now that’s just unfair.”
“Amen to that.”
She stood up immediately. It was the man that had been so outrageously rude yesterday. His eyes flicked to her wrist and then back to her face curiously, but he didn’t say anything about it and neither did she.
“Can I help you sir?”
“I was hoping for another free coffee.”
“Are you joking?” She asked, rolling her eyes before catching herself. “Sorry. No, I offered to wash your sweater to which you declined. We’re even.”
“No we aren’t. It burnt me.”
“No it didn’t.”
“It did. Want me to pull off my shirt and show you?”
The “Yes,” that fell from her lips was unmistakable, but she pretended like she didn't say it at all. “Through your sweater there’s no way it could have burnt your skin.”
“I can make a very vulgar complaint to your building manager and boss.”
She looked at him for a minute, wondering if he knew that she owned the shop and the part of the building she was in. She didn’t have a boss or a building manager.
“Go ahead.” She said smoothly. “I always need some feedback.”
His eyes barely seemed disappointed. In fact, his face didn’t change. “Give me your boss’s number.”
A grin on her face, she agreed. She wrote out her own number on the piece of paper then handed it across to him. “I’d recommend only calling during business hours. She gets very cranky when she has to talk about work outside of the shop.”
He ignored her and got out his own phone to dial the number, putting his phone to his ear. She blinked as her own phone started ringing, giving him the motion of ‘one second’ before she walked to the other side of the counter.
“Thanks for calling Caramel Apple! This is Kimura, the owner. How can I help you?” She greeted cheerfully.
“Fuck off.” The man snapped, hanging up. “You’re joking.”
“I own this spot, sir.”
“The fuck you don’t. Why are you using a spot so close to Dynamight’s agency? Doesn’t the noise piss you off?”
She was a bit thrown by the change in topic. “Oh. Uh, at first it was, but I’m used to it.”
“Do you know how unsafe it is to be so close to a hero agency?”
“Yes?” She shrugged. “I like Dynamight. He’s good at protecting the area. He’s always patrolling too early or too late. He keeps us safe.”
The man stared her down for a moment longer, red blooming subtly in his cheeks before he looked away. “Fucking whatever. Can I just have my free coffee?”
She felt utterly out of her element talking to this man. “Fine. Whatever. You will not get a third.”
“Mmhm.”
She got to work. She was so miserably slow and clunky with her cast that she developed a five person line behind the register while the mystery man leaned against the counter.
“What’s your name?” She asked as she slid the caramel cap across the counter.
He gave her a weird look at this. “Katsuki.”
“Well, Katsuki, be prepared to pay for your next coffee.”
“Hm.”
He left. Something about him was weird.
—
Bakugou Katsuki had been coming to Caramel Apple for months, and of course the way he had to get noticed by the hot worker was to be an ass to her like he was still in highschool. He hadn’t meant to snap at her when she toppled him. He had been swept up in surprise and a touch of anger that he could still be surprised at falling over.
“Are you fucking insane? Is it possible for you to watch where you’re going? How hard is it to carry a mug, you dumbass?” He had snapped, furious that the black designer sweater his mother had given him was now ruined.
The worker looked shocked before snapping right back at him, clutching her wrist. It was red and already swelling. She had broken it in the fall. Instead of acting the hero and patching her up like he should have, he demanded a free coffee.
God, he was scum.
She had made it, too. Hurt wrist and all. He was such scum. He was acting like an entitled white woman who always got her way. He left the shop with his coffee feeling quite disgusting.
He went back the next day to apologise and offer to pay for just something for the guilt of her wrist being broken. What did he do instead? Request another free coffee. They fell into a banter. Why wasn’t he apologising? Why hadn’t he given her a few hundred already to erase some of his guilt? Why were those beige eyes not making him act right?
She hadn’t seemed to realise he was Dynamight. So he gave her his first name, just because he wanted to hear her say it.
He returned for his third day in a row, now with a mini script written on his hand. He was to apologise, offer money, and maybe possibly ask her out. This was the first woman he had been attracted to in such a long time that he didn’t want to miss his chance.
The bell jingled as he walked in, like normal. He made it to the counter without tripping, like normal. Kimura raised her head from where she was writing something down and gave him a suspicious look. He was carrying a bag today. Was that really enough to warrant suspicion?
“Uh - “ He started, looking at those gorgeous eyes nervously. “I have something to say.”
“As long as it’s not to do with a free cappuccino with two pumps of caramel syrup, I’m all ears.” She smiled.
“I-I’m sorry I was so rude when you got coffee all over me. When you tripped. I should have asked more about your wrist since it was my fault. I can pay for anything you need to do with your wrist, or i can give you some cash or something, I-”
She gaped at him. She clearly didn’t think he was capable of being nice.
“Pick your fucking jaw off the floor,” He huffed. “I took it too far. I shouldn’t have even asked for a freebie in the first place. I am sorry.”
She was smiling like a cat who got the cream. “I’m not one to deny money. I am due an upgrade on our register…”
“How much?”
“Maybe thirty thousand?”
“Done.” He pulled out his wallet and passed her the three notes. She took them without remorse and tucked it into her apron.
“You’re so kind today that I think you deserve your free coffee, Katsuki.” She grinned, already moving to grab a large cup. He didn’t say anything. He was stuck on how good his name sounded in her mouth.
Why had it been so attractive that she hadn’t fought the money? How can the same three syllables his parents had been calling him by his whole life sound so different from her? Why was she still giving him free shit?
He was silent this time as she made his coffee so painfully slowly with that huge cast. As she slid it across to him, he locked eyes with her.
“I…” He started, opening and closing his mouth for a moment. “Can I ask something probably stupid?”
“Depends. How stupid is it on a scale of 1-10?”
“10.”
Her eyebrows raised, and she snickered. “Let’s hear it.”
“Can I use your number to text you sometime? Or call. Whatever you’d prefer. I guess.”
She blinked at him. “Sure. That’s what I gave it to you for.”
He blinked. “I thought you were fucking with me because I was a prick.”
“A hot prick.”
They both stared at each other in silence until he chuckled. “Well. That’s not something I’ve heard before.”