Black Coffee; No Sugar, No Cream

By: Cookys 'n' Creem

Disclaimer: I don't own Hamtaro. If you think I do, I will whole-heartedly agree with you, then smack you in the head for being such a moron.

Summary: AU. Hamtaro was in a rut; he even admits it. Every day started with coffee, and every day ended with coffee. Except for one day—when SHE appeared somewhere in the middle. ((Humans))

(A/N: Merry Belated Christmas, everyone! Have a great 2008! Hehe… this was SUPPOSED to be a serious Hamtaro one for once… but I guess comedy's in my blood. Oh well! It's much more interesting then what it was going to be, I can tell ya now.)

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Okay, I have to admit — it's an addiction. But, hey; who doesn't have a cup of straight coffee before breakfast and after breakfast?

Alright, so I have one duringbreakfast too — so sue me.

Before you go judging me and my… (sigh) addiction; it's almost impossible to resist. My hand just completely-on-its-own, not-what-I'm thinking-about-doing-at-all, automatically reaches for the coffee pot every morning, noon and night.

…Yeah, so maybe the cup at night isn't exactly the smartest thing in the world. Tell it to my therapist.

It was quite a pleasant rut, truthfully. Everyday of the week I wake up on the floor with arms and legs sprawled in impossible angles — "the hair" in impossible angles as well. I drag my worthless (but still hot if I do say so myself) butt to the kitchen and put the coffee pot on. Then, I'd stop at Arby's and order a short stack with extra syrup and a "black coffee; no sugar, no cream".

Arby's is practically family by now.

...Oh, and the staff, too; I guess.

But it totally isn't my fault that I have withdrawal symptoms if I don't get my daily cup…s.

Just like it totally wasn't my fault if I make a 4 year old cry after it started chewing nosily and my coffee was taking longer than usual. I didn't mean to throw my fork at the little guy — it just… slipped? Yeah, let's go with that.

Did I mention that that happened today?

…Whoops.

"RAWR!!"

"WAHHHH!! Mommy!!"

"Little brat! Come back here and fight like a man!"

Ahem. Yeah.

Grumbling incoherent curse words under my breath, I crossed my arms on the table in front of me and placed my chin on top. "Hmmph. Not my fault the stupid kid had easily poke-able skin."

"Here you go. A bitter black coffee for a bitter old man." Snapped a waitress I'd never seen before.

Notice how I said Arby's is practically family? I know everyone by name. There was Gordy, and Michelle, and Beck, and Daniel, and…

To get past that little brain fart, I was surprised too.

I blinked as I took a closer look. Despite the mustard-stained apron and the fact that her hair was as white as an old maid's, she was really cute! She had pretty emerald eyes. Say something charming! Don't screw it up!

"Hey! I'm not a bitter old man! I'm sweet and innocent and nineteen, thankyou very much!"

…That was some Barry White shit right there. Very nice. Moron.

The pretty waitress raised an eyebrow. "Innocent? You're a virgin?"

I immediately choked on my own hair, spluttering and coughing so hard I had to beat harshly on my chest. "What?! No!" …Yes…! But why don't you try saying that to a bunch of football-playing college jocks who get laid every 20 minutes.

Yeeeeeeeeeep. I said minutes. Hell, even the chess club gets more action than me!

THE CHESS CLUB, DAMMIT!

The waitress grinned cheekily. "Right. Okay. Here's your coffee, 'Sweet, Innocent and Nineteen'. Try not to throw any more forks, kay?"

"Okay. I'll try." Translation: I can't promise I will.

She flashed a 100-watt smile in my direction before going back to the register.

I blinked, before feeling a burning sensation growing on my cheeks. Placing my hands over the sizzling skin, I groaned.

Damn it, I just had to blush. No wonder my mojo is getting nowhere.

But as soon as that heavenly, wondrous liquid touched my lips; all problems where forgotten.

Ah, coffee. My sweet, my love, my life. How I adore you!

You've heard of the fountain of youth, right? Meet the next best thing!

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I was not waiting for that cute waitress. Definitely not! You can't prove anything!

The fact that I got up an hour earlier just to sit outside of Arby's in the icy, blizzard wonderland that is New York means nothing!

So maybe I was a little bit anxious.

…Okay! I'm practically doing a little dance of joy outside the doors! I'm weak! I'M WEAK!!

"Move it, shortie!"

"OOF!" I scowled as I rubbed my lower back; now hip-deep in snow.

Damn, I am weak.

"Yeah, Merry Christmas to you too, buddy!" I yelled in his direction. "Jackass."

"I don't think that he appreciated being called a jackass at 8 o'clock in the morning; eh, 'Sweet, Innocent and Nineteen'?" An amused voice said from above me.

"Eh?" I titled my head back only to see the beaming face of the pretty waitress from yesterday.

Now's your chance! Show how graceful and co-ordinated you are!

I attempted to get up in a swift, smooth motion, only to fall back on my butt into the freezing cold snow — arms failing and all. "WAGHH!"

…You're the original Brian Boitanno, Hamtaro, m'boy. Freaking amazing.

The waitress giggled, before holding out a gloved hand. "Here."

I flushed once again, to my horror. ARRGGH! DAMN YOU, RED BLOOD CELLS!! You'll get yours! "Ah, um, thanks."

Jesus Christ, now he's squeaking andstuttering! Pull yourself together, man!

I cleared my throat. "Um… I mean," A very sad attempt at a Johnny Cash-ish-like voice came from my mouth. "Thanks."

The waitress pursed her lips together to keep herself from laughing. "That's okay, Fabio."

"I'm not Fabio; I'm Hamtaro!" …Smooth.

The waitress stared at me like I'd grown a second head. "…I know that. Anyway, this may seem a little late, so: Hi, I'm Bijou." She shook my hand, smiling warmly.

"Um… hehe… of course you do… Bijou…" I laughed weakly, rubbing the back of my head nervously. Fan-freaking-tastic. Now she thinks I'm a weirdo.

"Well, Hamtaro," She emphasized, grinning, "Are you coming in? I'll open her up now."

I nodded, still drowning in my own self-pity. "…Yeah, sure; whatever…"

Goddamn it, if my mind had a physical body, even he would be beating me up.

Still tying her apron around her waist, Bijou looked expectantly at me. "So, Hamtaro, what do you do for a living? Do you work, or…?"

"I'm a college freshman." I replied, ecstatic to be off topic. "Me and my best friend Oxnard go to NYU."

"NYU? Wow! That sounds great!" Bijou seemed to ponder something for a moment, before shaking her head and smiling once more. "I hope to go to college next year. I needed thisyear to make money; I'm totally broke. So, now I work here so I can pay my tuition."

"Really? Can't you ask for help from your parents or something?" I asked, confused. Hell, my mom didn't even let me a step out the door without throwing 2 grand at me after I declared I was going to NYU.

Oh yeah, and there was the bone-crushing hug on the way, too. I'm not exaggerating either — she really broke a couple ribs in the process. Not fun.

Bijou shrugged, absently scrubbing the counter with a dirty rag. "They're in France. I haven't seen them since I was…" She paused. "…Eleven, I think? They sent me away to a 'loving, caring boarding school'." She snorted once. "Bah! Loving and caring my ass…" The anger in her voice sounded forced, and a sad light filled her emerald eyes — reminiscing no doubt.

Damn, that's gotta… RULE! I wish I didn't have rib-breaking, obsessive-compulsive, dirt-phobic parents who followed you around with a dust-buster when you're trying eating a cookie.

Of course, if I said that; that would just add some weight to the "Holy crap he's crazy" scale. And after my Johnny Cash impersonation before, it definitely wasn't in my favour at the moment.

"Um… don't worry Bijou; no parent could hate their own child. They had to be thinking for your benefit, I know it." I grinned shakily, attempting to be in psychologist mode. Hey, if I can be just plain psycho, I can add a 'logist' at the end and pull it off, can't I?

…Hell no. But I can try, right?

"Nah, it's okay. They still write… every now and then." Bijou sent me one of her 100-watt smiles — like the one from yesterday. "Thanks, Hamtaro. I feel a little better."

YES! Score one for Hamtaro! Insert geeky happy dance of triumph here.

"So, what would you like?"

"Oh my god, I thought you'd never ask; my stomach is practically eating me from the inside out — uh… I mean…" I groaned, holding my burning face in my hands. "Crap."

Bijou giggled. "You're funny. I'm starting to really like you, Fabio."

"Hamtaro!" I corrected automatically. There was an awkward pause as Bijou waited for the words to sink into my (yes, I admit it) tiny brain.

…Hang on, say what?!

Holy marshmallow spread on toast! Pigs do fly, the apocalypse is coming, and Oxnard has gone vegetarian!

"Y-You like me?! Me, the coffee-addicted freak who throws forks at screaming 4 year olds?! ME?!"

Bijou rolled her eyes, but was still grinning good-naturedly. "Duh. Yes, you." She frowned slightly. "But the fork-throwing we'll have to work on."

"Can I get plastic forks and work my way down?" I asked jokingly. She didn't need to know I was totally serious, anyway.

"I'm sure we can work something out." Bijou said, following the 'joke' superbly.

Before I let myself get carried away and actually perform the geeky happy dance of triumph that I had perfected since I was 13 infront of her very eyes, I frowned. "I'm just warning you know, Bijou; I have a therapist."

"Oh, for the coffee addiction, right?"

"Well, yes and no. For the pyro-ness and uncontrollable lust towards cows, too." Better get it over with…

Cue another awkward silence on my half; Bijou just laughed.

"Right, right. Should I go buy a cow suit then?"

Dear god, did I just develop a hernia?

"You're so adorable! You've gone all red!" Bijou giggled into her hand, controlling her self from bursting out loud.

"Ah, um… it's a rash! I mean… CRAP!"

"Is it an all body rash?" Bijou grinned cheekily before winking. "Should I check anyway, just in case?"

Nope, not a hernia. Heart attack.

"A-Are you flirting with me?!" I stammered, basically melting from the heat that just my cheeks were producing.

"You tell me Mr. 'Sweet, Innocent and Nineteen'."

"I-I think you are!"

Bijou dangled her fingers like a bell was between them. "Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding! Congratulations! You win a car!"

"REALLY?!" I shouted, eyes bulging.

"…No."

"Damn."

So, that was how mine and Bijou's relationship began. She comes with me to my therapy sessions every Wednesday — oh, that's right; my psychologist fainted at seeing a girl with me and had to be rushed to hospital. Funny story.

Well, not so much funny — more hilarious!!

It's been 2 years now. She attends NYU with me and Oxnard (also had heart attack).

And man, has that cow suit seen some good times.

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(A/N: Hiya guys! I hadn't put up a Hamtaro story in a while, and I have writers block for "Truth Dare or Lose". I was drinking a (sweet, sweet, wonderful, majestic…) cup of coffee and viola, she was born!

Please review, kay? If you don't Hamtaro and Bijou won't have hot animal sex while wearing the cow suit.

And that would just be plain weird.

LOOK IN YOUR HEARTS!! REVIEW!