Branch hated a lot of things.

He hated it when people complained he made their drink wrong and wanted it for free.

He hated the customers who ordered a single coffee, took over two tables for hours, and left a giant mess everywhere.

He hated the pitying looks from Poppy's friends when he didn't want to go to any of her parties.

But the one thing he hated most of all was how it was impossible to hate Poppy.

Because despite the fact that everything she did, from constant party invitations to giant bear hugs to loud impromptu karaoke sessions, should annoy him, but somehow… didn't.

And then there were things she did that affected him in other ways.

"Poppy, I can barely hear myself think. Can you turn it down?" He shouted after asking a customer to repeat their order three times.

"But this is my special 'Songs for Branch' playlist! You love oldies!" Poppy called back as she lowered the volume of "Superstition" by Stevie Wonder.

"I don't love anything that destroys my ear-" he started, then held up a finger. "Wait. You have a 'Songs for Branch' playlist?" He narrowed his eyes at her "...Why?"

Poppy, for the first time he had known her, actually looked a little sheepish. "Well… I watch you sometimes. Not in a creepy way!" She hastened to assure him as he raised an eyebrow. "But in a, 'What does Branch think of this song' way. And when I see that you like a song, I add it to my playlist!"

He blinked for a few moments, then asked, "How do you know what songs I like?"

"Oh, well, it wasn't easy, but sometimes, when certain songs play, you don't frown as much, and when you really like them, you bob your head a little. One time, you even tapped your foot to the beat! So I made a playlist of those songs, and noticed they were all oldies, so I added a few of my own! What do you think?"

His first instinct was to point out that watching him constantly was definitely creepy and possibly a violation of privacy, but then he realized that he hadn't been as annoyed by the songs playing as he usually was. And another part of him, the one that reacted really weirdly about her saying they were friends, felt like it was suddenly trying to expand.

"Do you like it?" She asked with a small, slightly anxious tilt of her head.

"Just keep it at a reasonable volume." He stated finally, turning back to the register before he said something weird and stupid like, Why do you care? or, No one's ever made me a playlist, or the much more unthinkable, I love it.

But Poppy, being Poppy, beamed at him as if he had paid her a long, flowery compliment. "Of course! Anything for my friend!"

"Shhh! Someone will hear you!" He glanced around to check his surroundings, and she laughed at him as she bumped his shoulder.

"Okay, Mr. Paranoid."

"Hey, just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean I'm wrong." He pointed a straw at her to emphasize his point, eliciting another bubbly laugh.

"Sure, Branch." She told him, shaking her head in exasperated fondness, and turned to take the next order, missing Branch's subconscious half-smile.

…

He also hated the dance parties.

Didn't matter if it was busy or slow, or whether any of the group was holding hot beverages, when a song Poppy "really, really, really, really loved" (and she assured him that the four 'really's were quite necessary) came on, she would shout, "DANCE PARTY!" at the top of her lungs, and whatever members of the 'Snack Pack' (who even came up with that name?) would drop everything and start moving to the beat.

Needless to say, Branch was not a fan. Sure, a few regulars and customers usually joined in, but it meant that Branch was suddenly the only one doing any work.

He complained about it to Poppy several times, but she always gave him a variation of the same answer.

"Branch, you really need to stop worrying so much and working so hard. Sometimes, you gotta take a second to chill and enjoy yourself and omigosh you know what would be perfect to help you relax is a DANCE P-"

He immediately covered her mouth with both hands. "There will be. No. Dancing. Not while that line is out the door."

Branch watched her look out of the supply closet to where Cooper was taking orders and Guy was running the machines as fast as they both could. She sighed loudly, tickling his hands as he slowly took them away, oddly fighting the urge to blush.

"Fine. But once the line is down to ten people-"

"Five."

"Eight?"

"Done."

"Then it's ON!" Poppy declared with an emphatic fistpump.

With that settled, Branch continued restocking the cups and lids and Poppy went to help on the registers. He had just started setting out the newly washed mugs when Poppy shouted, "We're down to eight! Time to GET HAPPY!"

He jumped as "Happy" by Pharrell started blasting out of the speakers, then sighed heavily as the rest of the staff, plus most of the people in line, starting dancing (some more enthusiastically than others).

As the song came to an end, Poppy attempted a flying air guitar kick that barely missed Branch and instead sent the mug he had just set down crashing to the floor.

"Oh no! No no no no!" Poppy knelt down, hands on her face, staring at the scattered polka-dotted shards. "I didn't see it! I knew I jumped too high, but I didn't realize I was so close to the counter! Oh no no no no."

Branch was shocked to see that Poppy looked practically heartbroken. "It's okay," he started, grabbing the broom. "It's just a mug. We've got plenty."

Gesturing to the eclectic collection didn't lighten Poppy's spirits at all.

"That was my favorite one. It was a gift, and I… I brought it in because it made always me happy, so I thought it'd make other people happy, and it did. I'd give to whoever looked like they were having a bad day, and they always looked a little happier afterwards." She picked up one of the larger pieces. "And now it's just… gone."

Biggie gently helped her up and Cooper softly took the shard from Poppy's hand and gave it to Branch. "It'll be okay, Poppy. We'll get you a new mug." Cooper told her with a side-hug.

"C'mon. I've got some cinnamon scones in the bakery that will make you feel better in no time," Biggie led her back to the bakery while Cooper returned to taking orders, leaving Branch staring at the small piece of ceramic in his hand.

Sighing, he set it on the counter and started sweeping up the rest. Once everything was in the dustpan, he found that he couldn't quite throw it all away. He glanced from the broken mug up to Poppy, who was munching slowly on on a scone, peeked around, then slid the pieces into a bag.

…

A few days later, Poppy was mostly back to her cheerful self, with only a few melancholy looks at the collection of cups every now and then. Branch waited until their shift was over and Cooper and Guy could manage the rest of the lunchtime rush.

"Hey, Poppy," He told her in a low tone, "look, I, um… could you stop by my car for a sec?"

"Sure! What's up?" She asked as she bounced over towards the parking lot. "Is this about Satin and Chenille's Second Week of Spring Brunch?"

"No." He said shortly, getting out his keys.

"Did you change your mind?! Are you coming?! It's going to be so much fun and-" She suddenly stopped. "Is this your car?"

"Yeah. There's something I wanted-"

"It's… vintage. How old is it?"

Branch shrugged. "I dunno. Anyway-"

"Is it old enough to drive itself?" Poppy grinned broadly, ignoring Branch's unamused look. "Do you have to pedal with your feet like the Flintstones? Is it-"

Branch interrupted with the one thing he knew would distract her. "I have a present for you."

As he thought, Poppy immediately abandoned her next joke and squealed loudly. "Eee! You do?! What is it? What is it for? Is it shiny? Does it make noise?"

"Well you certainly do." Branch shook his head a little, then handed her a small package wrapped in newspaper.

"I love presents! All kinds of presents, any reason for presents, like housewarmings, anniversaries, birthdays-" She gasped loudly. "I don't know your birthday! When's your birthday? Is it soon? Should I start planning your gift? What kind of things do you-"

"You will never know." Branch told her, then sighed, already exhausted. "Just open it."

She smiled at him, then ripped open the newspaper excitedly. Once the last shred fell off, Poppy froze.

There, sitting in her palm, was the polka dot mug. The cracks were barely visible, almost perfectly reassembled.

"That's… that's my mug." She said slowly.

"Yeah." He waited for some kind of reaction, but Poppy just stared at it.

"It wasn't that hard. I mean, most of the pieces were pretty big. There were a couple really small ones, but I found them after a while."

He watched her for a few more moments, the silence oddly loud.

"I glued the pieces together with a 100 percent silicone sealant. It's nontoxic and, uh, creates a barrier to liquid transfer through the break, so it won't leak at all, and you can put it in the dishwasher if you want, since it's got a pretty high temperature threshold. You can also microwave it if you need to and - will you please just say something, you're kind of freaking me out."

She carefully set the mug down on the top of the trunk, then grabbed him in a sudden hug.

"Thank you." She told him softly, and he felt heat rush to his cheeks.

"Uh, y-yeah. It wasn't…" He swallowed, then responded, "You're welcome."

She eventually let him go and picked up the mug, smiling gently at it. Branch coughed a little to clear his throat.

"It seemed like you thought it was pretty special, so…"

"It was my mom's."

Branch blinked. That wasn't the answer he was expecting.

"She died when I was a baby, but using her cup always made me feel a little closer to her." Poppy looked up with a small, self-deprecating grin. "Guess that sounds a little silly, huh?"

"No. Not at all." He said with complete sincerity, then after some hesitation, put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

She gave him a quiet, meaningful smile. "Thanks."

Whatever kind of moment they were having quickly turned into awkward silence (for Branch, anyway). "So…" he cast around for something to say. "I don't see your car."

"Oh yeah, Suki borrowed it so she can get some of her DJ gear fixed. I'll just take the bus."

Branch scuffed his toe on the ground, then stared at the side of the coffee shop while he mumbled, "Well, I could… I mean, if you're just going to take the… I guess I could drive."

Poppy tilted her head. "Drive where?"

He sighed loudly, then offered, "I could drive you. To your place. If you want."

Her trademark million-watt smile slowly grew. "Really?"

"I mean… unless you don't-"

"I do!"

"Oh. I… okay." He started throwing stuff from the passenger seat to the back. "But no more jokes about my car."

"Five more jokes?"

"One."

"Three?"

He rolled his eyes as he held the door open for her. "Fine. Three jokes."

She jumped in with glee. "Okay. Your- wait, is that an honest-to-goodness cassette player?!"

"Maybe."

"Oh my gosh this is even better than I imagined. Alright, your car is so old, the tires used to be stone wheels!"

"Yikes. That's terrible. You have two left."

"Okay, okay. Your car is so old…"

Branch sighed loudly and tried to ignore the warm feeling growing in his chest.

"Kintsugi" is a Japanese practice of repairing broken pottery with gold, which highlights the damage, rather than disguising it. It's also a philosophy about treating breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, embracing its flaws and imperfections. One interpretation (which inspired me) is "more beautiful for having been broken".