A/N: A prompt response from many moons ago, and also a giant ball of cheese. I made the executive decision to listen to "Falling in Love at a Coffee Shop" by Landon Pigg while writing some of this, so consider this your soundtrack suggestion. I meant it as a one-shot, but I think it'll require a follow-up or two. Nothing too plotty, just some fluff for once. I hope that you will enjoy and share your thoughts!

If she is being completely honest with herself, Aurora is terrified of the woman.

It doesn't make any sense, really. She's just another customer. She comes in every day, sometimes twice, with her reusable cup, orders a large black coffee, sits at a table by the window and reads something or writes something for half an hour or so, and then leaves. What exactly is intimidating about that?

Well, nothing, when she put it that way.

But the woman is tall. Taller than most men. And she's bone-thin, and her suit coats emphasize that her shoulders, while thin, are decidedly square. And she has flawless olive skin and these high, sharp cheekbones and coal-black eyes. She wears her black hair back in a tight bun that emphasizes her dramatic widow's peak, and the curious thing is that on most people, a widow's peak would be a softening feature because it gives the face a sort of heart shape, but on this woman, it draws attention to the arch of her eyebrows, which draws attention back to those piercing black eyes, the gaze of which gives Aurora chills all over.

And the weirdest part of it...and this is only if Aurora is being completely honest with herself, which doesn't happen all that often...is that Aurora isn't certain whether they're bad chills or good chills.

She has a weird name. Like something out of a fantasy novel. Like a villain out of a fantasy novel. The first time she said it, Aurora blinked and asked her to repeat it.

"Maleficent," the woman said again. Her voice was low and almost harsh. "If you've a keen enough ear, it's spelled like it sounds."

"Interesting name," said Aurora. Her voice cracked. She felt herself blushing.

Maleficent's facial expression remained stony. "If you write Millicent, I will personally see to it that you lose your job."

"You'll—?"

"And every job thereafter."

The troublesome part of Aurora that liked to push people's buttons wanted to respond, 'Really? Every single job in my life?' But the (fortunately) much larger part of Aurora that generally adhered to common sense could tell that, very likely, this woman could and would do anything she pleased.

Aurora works a lot. Her aunts treat her determination with varying degrees of understanding. Aunt Flora doesn't understand it at all. When her parents died, they entrusted Flora with a mind-boggling sum of money for Aurora's care. Flora could put her through silly old college easily if that's really how Aurora wants to waste her time. Aunt Fauna doesn't understand it, either, but admires Aurora's hard work and spirit, and tells her that every time they speak.

Though Aunt Merryweather has never outright said the words, Aurora gets the feeling that she understands. She has, after all, imbued Aurora with her fierce devotion to independence, and she and Flora argue more than anybody Aurora has ever met. Aunt Flora is a loving caretaker, but she has very particular and stringent ideas about life and the way it ought to be led, especially for a woman, and especially for Aurora. Aurora watched enough sitcoms growing up to know how quickly and how completely relying on a person like that, no matter how loving or well-meaning, could go wrong.

So Aurora has done her very best to make her own way in the world. She had to ask Aunt Flora for help a total of once, when she came down with mononucleosis a year and a half ago, and she honestly isn't certain whether eviction or starving to death or even a medieval debtor's prison would have been worse. She'd endured no less than ten lectures on the dangers of "getting around" and "disgracing herself", been subjected to daily inquiries for about two months on whether or not this might encourage her to find a nice, respectable man and settle down (at the age of nineteen, remember) before she contracted "something far worse", and as if the phone calls and public meetings weren't enough, Aunt Flora had begun to show up at Aurora's apartment unannounced at all times of the day—usually before 8 A.M.) just to "check up on her"—namely, her (complete lack of) sexual activity.

Okay, so she'd drunkenly made out with a couple of girls at a party, one of whom had thereafter displayed a slightly troubling cough, but it was a one-time occurrence. It didn't mean anything. Aurora probably isn't even gay or whatever. She just hasn't found the right guy yet, you know? Aunt Flora can just chill the fuck out already. All Aurora does 99% of the time is work and school and her book club once a week, when she has time, and that's just because of this girl who...well, anyway. Whatever. Not a big deal.

The point is, Aurora now has irrefutable proof that asking Aunt Flora for money is the worst-case scenario. So she works at the coffee shop a lot.

Consequently, she sees Maleficent a lot. More consistently, in fact, than she sees anyone else in her life. So maybe it's natural that she's focusing all this weird energy obsessing about her. It's just a phase. It'll fade with time. She'll get used to Maleficent.

She holds onto that delusion for a couple of months. That's when Aunt Flora sends "That Boy I've Been Telling You About."

That Boy I've Been Telling You About is Aurora's deceased father's childhood best friend's son. The family moved away for work, like, forty years ago, and the newly-divorced childhood best friend and his twentysomething son moved back sometime last year. Aunt Flora hasn't found it in her soul to shut up about him for a solid six months. So handsome, so tall, so well-mannered, oh, you'd be perfect together, Aurora, blah blah blah. Aurora got into the habit of making a lame excuse to get off the phone every time that portion of the conversation commenced. Instead of taking the hint, Aunt Flora has simply moved the That Boy I've Been Telling You About talk to the end of whatever agenda she has for her phone calls with Aurora, that she might get all of the pertinent details in one more time before they say goodbye.

This morning, Aunt Flora called Aurora at exactly 5:30, just before she left for the coffee shop, an act which immediately made Aurora suspicious. Sure enough, after a few minutes of meaningless pleasantries, made all the more irritating by their occurrence at such a dreadful hour of the morning, before Aurora had had her own coffee, Aunt Flora blithely informed her that That Boy I've Been Telling You About was coming into the coffee shop today to meet her.

Maleficent comes in at ten. On weekdays, she usually comes in a bit after the coffee shop opens and a bit before people come rushing in before work, presumably to avoid both crowds, but weekends are more of a wild card—there's no telling when she'll show, and therefore no time to prepare for the curious shock to the system that is her presence.

"Large black coffee?" Aurora asks her. Her attempt at cheer only makes her voice sound frail.

"Need you always ask?"

"Maybe someday you'll want something different," says Aurora with a shrug and her best attempt at a smile.

Maleficent's black eyes briefly sweep down and then back up again. Aurora shivers. "Maybe I will," she replies cryptically. The corner of her dark red lips curl up into a small, nearly imperceptible smirk. She takes her coffee from a dumbfounded Aurora and walks away, her spot at the counter replaced by a smiling and fresh-faced (unusually so for someone who hasn't yet received his coffee) boy.

"Aurora?"

Aurora raises her eyebrows. She never really knows how to feel about customers who insist on addressing her by her name, even regulars, and even though it's on her nametag. "That's me!" she says, a little awkwardly. "What can I get you?"

"I'm Phillip," he says. Aurora stares at him blankly. "Your dad's friend's son? Your aunt..."

"Oh! Right. Hi." Aurora doesn't know how she's supposed to proceed. Does Aunt Flora expect them to go on a date? Get married right away? How do these things usually go?

For better or worse, Phillip carries the conversation for her. At first, Aurora stares at him, unblinking, wondering how to get rid of the impressive knot of awkwardness forming in the pit of her stomach, but after twenty minutes or so of what is quickly morphing into senseless white noise, she has the wherewithal to notice that Maleficent is watching her, and suddenly as they lock eyes everything seems alarmingly quiet.

"Aurora?" Phillip prompts her.

Across the room, Maleficent takes a pointed sip of her coffee.

"Hmm?" Aurora averts her eyes quickly, but reluctantly.

"Would you like to go out sometime?"

"I, uh..." Aurora blinks, swallows uncomfortably. "Sure. Sometime."

Phillip's face lights up in a sort of disingenuous smile. Aurora isn't sure why it makes her feel slimy. Maybe because the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Great! Maybe tonight?"

"I'm working tonight," Aurora says, feeling a flood of relief at the truth in her statement. "I work most nights."

Phillip is undeterred. "All right then, how about you give me your number, and we'll work out a time?"

Aurora can feel Maleficent's eyes on her, and she wonders what exactly Maleficent finds so interesting about this scenario that it's distracted her from whatever it is she's reading this morning, unless she just gleans this much amusement out of watching Aurora suffer. "Yeah, sure," says Aurora dismissively.

Maleficent leaves before Phillip does, and weirdly, her absence leaves Aurora feeling even more uncomfortable than her presence did.

"You're back." The words escape her lips long before she has time to think better of them, and Maleficent looks up from her stack of papers with a sort of impassive surprise.

Aurora has half a mind to run behind the counter and into the stock room to hide forever in humiliation, but the sensible part of her mind knows that isn't a real option. "I mean—I didn't expect you...back...so soon," she adds, lamely, and feels her face flush. "Anyway. Uh. Welcome back."

Maleficent arches one eyebrow at Aurora, then turns her coffee cup so that Aurora can see the name written on the side: Millicent.

In spite of herself, Aurora barely stifles a laugh. "Oh," she says behind her fingertips. "Who's responsible for that?"

Maleficent's expression does not change, but she waits a beat before she retorts, "Why on earth would I have bothered to remember his name?"

"Fair enough." Aurora's smile widens, but she feels very odd for being so amused. This is the friendliest exchange they've ever had, by far, and Aurora doesn't know what to make of such a drastic change.

"Are you coming into work again?" Maleficent asks her. Perhaps it's just the unusual darkness of her eyes, but Aurora can't help but feel as though she's being studied.

"In a bit," she replies. "I had such an exhausting morning, I needed a little pick-me-up before my closing shift."

Maleficent nods. "Would you care to join me?"

Aurora's mind goes momentarily blank. She feels as though something...or everything...has skidded to a stop, and she is left reeling in its wake. "Join you...?" she echoes stupidly.

Maleficent inclines her head to indicate that, yes, that is what she said, and she will absolutely not deign to ask twice.

"I...I mean..." In that dreadful, stuttering instant, Aurora comes to a terrible realization. "Yes! I'd love to!" the words burst forth from her lips, too surprised, too excited.

While Aurora finishes stammering, Maleficent sips her coffee. "Well, I haven't got all day," she says, almost pleasantly, and Aurora scrambles behind the counter to make her favourite drink as quickly as possible while also taking as deep a breath as she can manage. Her most terrifying customer just asked if Aurora would like to join her for coffee...the most terrifying, certainly, but also the most fascinating.

Before Aurora has fully taken her seat, Maleficent asks her, "So tell me, what sort of a person works a morning and a closing shift in this tragic establishment on the same day?"

"The sort of person who's trying to put herself through school," Aurora shrugs, then, horrified, remembers something Maleficent once said to her. "You didn't get the guy who got your name wrong fired, did you?"

"I may have let him off with a warning," Maleficent replies. "But only because he started blubbering and begging. I do enjoy begging."

Aurora struggles unsuccessfully to hide her amusement. "Poor guy."

"What are you studying?"

"Disappointing my legal guardians, mostly."

Maleficent doesn't smile. "How does such a lovely woman go about becoming a disappointment?"

Aurora averts her eyes, feels her cheeks flushing slightly, and runs a hand through her hair to distract herself from the oddness of her reaction. "I think the latest thing is that I'm supposed to like that guy who came in here earlier."

Maleficent pulls a face briefly, but as quickly as it was there, it's gone, replaced once again by somewhat haughty passivity. "And why not?" she says, her voice flat. "He had a very...symmetrical face."

Aurora bursts into laughter. It's loud, and inappropriate, and several people unabashedly turn and give her pointed looks, and Maleficent still isn't smiling, but somehow she looks pleased, and Aurora feels like an enormous weight has been lifted from her shoulders. "He's so boring!" she says, still delighted. "I don't remember a single thing he said to me!"

"Except that he asked you on a date," Maleficent replies.

Aurora's delight is somewhat dampened. "Oh. Right."

"Why are your, ah...guardians...so taken with him?"

"God," Aurora groans. "I could tell you his life story. My Aunt Flora has had like thirty minutes prepared on him every time we've spoken for half a year, at least! He's my dad's old best friend's son, as if that automatically makes him something special. Pretty sure 'Uncle Hubert' got divorced because his wife couldn't decide if she hated his gambling or his drinking more."

"Come now," says Maleficent, her voice rich with amusement. "He could be a perfectly lovely young man."

Aurora takes a long sip of her sugary beverage before she replies. "The thing is...I just don't care? I don't have a good explanation for it, I just...don't."

"Then why did you say yes?"

Aurora rests her chin in her hand. "I don't know, I didn't want to be rude but I wanted him to leave?" She groans again. "Gonna have to deal with that one someday, huh?"

"Better sooner than later," Maleficent agrees. "Society's obsession with 'politeness' over truthfulness never ceases to baffle me. What have you to lose? You know nothing of this handsome stranger but some details from his family's past, and surely your aunt won't resent you for turning down a date." She averts her eyes. "A meddlesome guardian is bound to have countless others in store."

Aurora gazes into her coffee cup and gives it a stir so the cream and sugar swirl into intricate patterns. "Her trying to set me up wasn't exactly...unprompted."

Maleficent is silent, evidently awaiting Aurora's desire to continue, but it's barely even something she's acknowledged in the privacy of her own mind. There's no one in her life she would trust with the thought she's been forming over the past year. Why should she trust a beautiful stranger?

Perhaps she's driven to speak not in spite of Maleficent's mystique, but because of it. Aurora has known most of the people in her life since before she could remember, and they all have a very...concrete set of values. Aurora doesn't know what Maleficent values other than getting the right name on her coffee cup, and there's a certain...reckless abandon in the notion of divulging a secret to someone who is herself more or less a secret.

"My aunts sort of...got wind that I might have made...some choices...they didn't approve of," she hedges, slowly. "And it's not like I'm...I mean, that is, I don't know if I'm..." She squeezes her eyes closed and takes a long drink from her coffee, savours the warmth sliding down her throat and takes some small comfort in it. "I don't know what I am," she says at last. "And if I am...if I were..." she opens her eyes to find that she has Maleficent's full attention, and it sets her heart aflutter. "...different..." she breathes. "I just don't know how they'll react."

Maleficent nods, but remains silent and almost unnervingly attentive.

Aurora swallows, hard. "It could be bad," she whispers.

Maleficent's brow furrows subtly, then after a moment, she says, "Well, it was unpleasant for me. But I came out of it all right."

Aurora feels as though the breath has been sucked from her lungs. "You...?" SHe's not sure what to say. She feels like crying, but it's from a peculiar kind of...happiness? "But...it turned out okay?" she wonders, and she's not even entirely sure where the words came from. "Really?"

Maleficent reaches out a hand, hesitates, then somewhat stiffly places it atop Aurora's. Her hands are large, and her fingers are unusually long and thin. Her touch is cold, but it sends a red-hot jolt through Aurora's entire body. They've been looking into one another's eyes for awhile now, Aurora realizes vaguely, but she cannot bring herself to look away.

"Truly," Maleficent tells her.

The ambient music Aurora has long since learned to turn out has changed suddenly. It's somehow become the most prevalent noise in the room.

I think that possibly, maybe I'm falling for you.
Yes, there's a chance that I've fallen quite hard over you.

For a moment, they're suspended in time. Neither of them seems willing to move, to move away or to move forward, for to move in any direction will be to return to reality. And in reality, what are they to one another? Maleficent is some sort of successful businesswoman who likes her coffee the colour of her eyes, and Aurora is some mess of a college student who doesn't even know what she wants...

Or, more precisely, if she can handle wanting this.

In the end, she's the one to look away first. She withdraws her hand and runs it through her hair, lets out a sort of strangled chuckle, and fumbles for something to say. "Well, now you know more about me than people who've known me my whole life," she says airily. "What do you do when you're not here?"

"Nothing particularly interesting," Maleficent replies easily. Her focus remains unbroken. There's something so steady, so deliberate about her presence. She doesn't waver, doesn't falter, doesn't back down. "Go to work, pursue some hobbies, dream of something more, something that will enrapture me."

In the wake of her observation about Maleficent's unshakeable demeanour, Aurora feels even less certain of herself. "Seems like you're being deliberately mysterious," she says with a small half-smile.

Maleficent finishes her coffee, slowly and deliberately. "Well, if one wishes to see someone again," she says as she stands, "one ought always to leave her wanting more." She takes Aurora's hand from where it's been lying limp on the table, and presses cold, smooth lips against her knuckles. She's halfway out the door before Aurora has regained control of herself, and all that remains of her is the coffee collar with Millicent written on it, which she's left on the table.

Aurora picks it up, grasps it tightly in both her hands, her head reeling, and takes a long, deep breath. She has to get back to work in far too few minutes, has to return to the reality where she's just a mess of a college student who doesn't know what she's doing most of the time. She's going to have a lot of things to deal with in the near future. She's going to have to turn That Boy I've Been Telling You About down, for real, and she's going to have to have...probably a series of painful conversations with her aunts, probably Flora in particular. To top it all off, she's going to have to have a series of painful conversations with herself.

But for right now, just for this moment, she's got this coffee collar between her fingers. She's got this silly little memento of an ordinary afternoon that suddenly became extraordinary, this concrete proof that what just happened wasn't a figment of her sleep-deprived, coffee-addled brain.

And with this in mind, Aurora finds it in herself to smile. She turns the coffee collar over in her hands to find that on the back is written a telephone number, and she realizes she can now put a name to what she felt earlier, that strange, fluttery, almost painful almost-happiness: hope.