Word count: around 3000

Genre: AU

Rating: worksafe-ish (watch out for Hidan's mouth)

Note: Re-post. Beta'd by my partner in crime, the wonderful Firefly, way back in the day. I miss you, girl!

"This tastes like crap, seriously."

"Then don't drink it."

"I should complain to the manager. And demand a fucking refund."

"You do that."

"…you're not very talkative, are you Blondie?"

"…I have no reason to talk to you."

"Aw…that hurts my feelings, seriously."

She rolls her eyes.

"Whatever."

"What the hell do you do to the coffee to make it taste like this? It's the most disgusting fucking thing I've had in my life!"

"…"

"You're using perfectly good beans…do you add something more when I'm not looking?"

"…"

"What the hell is with you today? You got PMS or something?"

It takes almost all of her self-restraint to not take the cup and pour the hot liquid over his head.

"Why the hell do you drink it if you hate it that much?"

"Why do you think?"

She crosses her arms.

"Because you like to be a whiney jerk?"

"Now, now, you should be polite to your customers. Didn't your boss tell you that?"

"You don't count as a customer. You're just here to pester me."

"What the fuck makes you think that? I don't give a shit about you, seriously."

"And yet you're back every morning, ordering the same thing as the day before and bitching about its 'foul taste' as loudly as you can."

"Maybe I just like to bitch."

"Sure, whatever."

"Did you use another sort of coffee bean?"

"No. Why?"

"…it tastes different from before."

"Oh, that's just the poison."

He blinks, and then he starts to laugh.

"That's real funny, Blondie."

She looks at him blankly.

"No, really."

He smirks, and leans back as he takes another sip from the cup.

"Would it make you very sad then, to hear that I'm perfectly immune to all sorts of poisons?"

She raises an eyebrow, wondering if she should even bother to answer such a stupid question.

"Yeah, right."

"No, really."

"In that case I'll be really disappointed."

He smirks.

"Now you're breaking my heart, seriously."

"You have no idea how happy I am to hear that."

"Now this is weird."

She sighs, and resists the urge to slap her forehead. God, he just doesn't know how to shut up, does he?

"What is?"

"It tastes different again."

"…" Damn it.

"Trying another poison?"

"…something like that." Her gaze travels over the other tables, but no one seems to be in any need of help. Damn it.

"Let me guess…chocolate? And maybe a little hint of chilli?"

"…" Damn it. How is she supposed to answer that?

"If I hadn't known better I'd almost think that you're trying hard to make me something I'll like, seriously."

She has no idea how she manages to remain completely unfazed as she rolls her eyes at him.

"Think whatever you want. I don't give a damn about your tastes."

His smirk tells her that he can see straight through her. And that he loves how that knowledge makes her insides burn with the lust to do something that'll make him shut up.

"Sure, Blondie, whatever you say."

That will wipe that confident smile off his face.

When he hasn't commented on the coffee in five minutes, she finally gives in to the urge to confront him about what's going on.

"Hey."

"…hey." A slow answer. This isn't like him at all. Not that she cares. She isn't worried or anything. She just…wants to know what he thinks about her adding a little cream to his coffee. Yes.

"You look awful."

"Gee, thanks."

"No, I mean…tired. Sick. Are you sick?" What am I saying?

"Why do you fucking care?"

"I don't."

"That's good, then."

She looks at him, straightens up and crosses her arms.

"…you really don't like me, do you?"

"What makes you think that?"

She glares hotly at him.

"Because you come here, every day, sit here for an hour and all you do is complain and make all the other customers uncomfortable."

"And what would that have to do with you?"

"Because they think that you come here because of me."

He snaps his head up, gaping at her. Oh, so that made him react.

"The hell?!"

Somehow, she feels a little offended – not disappointed, absolutely not – by his reaction. But she doesn't show it.

"Yeah, exactly."

"Why the fuck would I come here because of you?!"

"I'd be damned if I knew."

"That's it. I'm fucking leaving." He gets to his feet, and she's looking up at him. It feels weird; she's never had to look up at him before.

"Good. Please don't bother to come back, either."

"I sure as hell won't, especially if it makes people think that I enjoy sitting here and chatting with a bitch like you."

"Why, thank you." Snarling.

"You're perfectly welcome, seriously."

"…"

"You're back?" She's not that surprised, not really. Why she isn't she doesn't know, she just…felt like he'd be there. Should be there.

"…looks like it."

"You know what they're going to say, right?" Not that she really cares.

"Whatever." Looks like he doesn't, either.

"…"

"…"

"Why did you come back?"

"…"

"…?"

"None of the other places could make the coffee the way I liked it."

She almost laughs out loud.

"You hate my coffee! Whatever I do to it, you hate it!"

"Yeah. But I like to bug you about it."

"…you're weird."

"You're worse."

"Am not!"

"Are too."

"Am not!"

"Yup."

"No!"

"So, will you give me my goddamned coffee or what?" He's wearing his smirk, and somewhere, just beneath the surface, she can feel a warm feeling engulfing her, making her face twitch into a smile.

"Will that make you shut up?"

"…maybe."

"Fine."

"Hey, I was wondering."

"About what?"

"You."

She blinks, stares at him.

"What about me?"

"Just…we've done this for weeks now and I don't know anything about you."

"Weeks?"

"Yeah. Five of them."

"That long, huh? I didn't notice."

"Now you're hurting my feelings again."

"I'm delighted to hear it. …So what exactly was it that you wanted to know? About me?"

"The usual stuff."

"What 'usual stuff'?"

"Wow, you really are socially retarded, aren't you?" He's just trying to offend her to make himself feel less awkward, isn't he?

"Shut up."

"And stingy." Yeah, he is.

"Were you going to ask me something or is it okay if I leave?"

How did she wind up sitting with him by his table anyway? She hadn't meant to sit down with him, but when she found herself just standing by the counter, just a few metres away from his booth, having no more customers to serve, she simply just couldn't find a reason not to. Damn it. She really is running out of excuses.

"No, I was going to ask you something."

"Then ask. I don't have all day."

"Tch, bitch." It was almost cute. Nononono she did not just think that! "Okay. The usual stuff…like, what's your favourite colour?"

"…purple."

"Lame." It seems to come to him automatically. Adorabl-no!

"Hey! Don't ask if you're going to be rude to me when I bother with answering!"

"Favourite food?"

"I should kill you," she paused. "…Vegetable soup."

"…"

"You bastard! I told you not to do that!"

"I didn't fucking say anything!"

"You thought it!"

"What, so I'm not allowed to think now?!"

She gets up, her eyes narrowed and angry. You know very well what I mean, she wants to yell, but that would probably just bring another smug answer out of him.

"Screw you!" she says instead. And then she leaves.

The next day, all she says to him as she puts his cup down before him is:

"I hate you."

He doesn't even look at her.

"Feeling's mutual, seriously."

"Good."

But she's still added a touch of vanilla to his coffee.

"Hey, Blondie?"

"…" She's still angry. She has the right to still be angry. She's not sulking, most definitely not. No.

"Just thought you might wanna know that your coffee blending is improving."

"Oh, I'm so glad to hear that, especially from you." Huh. She's not snappy either. No. And her whole mind is roaring with victory. He liked the vanilla!

"…what's your favourite coffee?"

What the hell is he asking that for? She eyes him suspiciously.

"…are you going to taunt me again if I answer that?"

He smirks, but his spirit isn't in it. How she knows that, she cannot tell.

"I'll try to restrain myself."

"Tch. Sure you will." Look, this is her being sarcastic.

"Your faith in my self-control is stunning, seriously."

Okay, enough. They're just going to fight, and her boss will get angry with her for scaring off the other customers again. He's told her a long time ago, though, that if she managed to scare this particular customer away, he'll give her a raise.

But it doesn't seem like that's happening.

"…actually, I don't like coffee."

"Really?" And why is that so surprising? At least he seems to be honestly surprised.

"No. I prefer green tea."

She waits for the quick, amused remark.

"Okay."

She waits about five seconds more, but he's just sipping his coffee, not looking at her.

"…that's it? No comment on how lame I am?"

He shrugs. "Nope."

"Okay, now I'm stunned."

He continues to sip his coffee and smirk.

"What do you usually do on your spare time?"

What is it with all these questions? He's kept dropping them every day for a week now!

"I study."

She can tell that he's restraining himself from giving her another "Lame!" comment. Why does he even bother? His reactions will keep puzzling her.

"Okay…what?"

"Economics, mostly."

"Ew. That's boring."

"I think it's interesting."

"You're fucking weird."

"You're weirder."

"…do you have any family?" Again, he doesn't take the bait.

"Two younger brothers." And what confuses her more is the fact that she keeps answering his questions, almost without a single thought.

"Cute." Rolling eyes goes here.

"You?"

"Hm?"

"Do you have any family?"

"Nope."

She looks at him silently. He drinks his coffee.

"None at all?"

He puts the mug down.

"I'm an orphan."

"Oh…" She has no idea what to say. He glances at her, raising an eyebrow, looking amused. It irritates her, because being amused seems to be his way to handle everything.

"Wow, Blondie. When you get that look on your face, one could almost think that you cared."

But then again, taking nothing seriously is probably easier than taking everything too seriously.

"I don't. It's just…I know how that feels."

He smiles, and his smile tells her that he doesn't believe her.

"Do you now?"

"Mmh. I lost my mom when I was three and my father when I was fifteen."

He leans back, resting his head against the wall of the booth.

"Heart-wrenching, seriously."

"…you're a dick."

"And you're a fucking bitch."

And for some reason, when he says that, it feels like things are back to the way they should be.

"…you weren't here yesterday."

"I know." Oh God, she's tired.

"Or the day before that."

"Your point?"

"Where the fuck were you?"

He sounds angry. She looks at him, and notices that he's watching her intently. It almost makes her shiver, and she shrugs it off by snapping at him.

"Why do you care?"

"No one else can make my coffee the way I like it." I win! I do sooo win!

"Woe is you."

"Bitch." Safe grounds.

"Asshole." Procedure.

"So where were you?"

"…at the hospital."

"What?" He sounds…weird. But she doesn't look up to see what it is.

"Hn."

"Why? Did your boyfriend get you pregnant or something?" Safe ground. She glares at him. Why does he always do that every time he tries to hide something? Doesn't he see how it gets so completely transparent after a while?

"…firstly, I don't have a boyfriend and secondly, that's none of your fucking business!"

"Haha. You keep telling yourself that. So why were you there?"

"My brother was in an accident and what the hell do you mean 'keep telling myself that'?" She knows. She knows, but she doesn't dare to act on it.

"Guess." Neither does he. But they both know by now.

"…you're even crazier than I thought." And she's probably even crazier than him.

"And you love it." …yes.

"You're delusional."

"Am I?"

…no. "Yes."

"Really…?"

"Yes."

"Then why are you blushing?"

Damn it all!

"I am not blushing."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Uh-huh."

"Fine already!" She's tired, sure. She hasn't slept properly in days, but she's even more tired of this, of him and this ridiculous dance on glass that they've both devoted themselves to the last few months. She's so damn tired of it. She's so tired that she doesn't care about the rules anymore.

"So maybe I like you. What's it to you?"

He's looking at her, face unreadable. Say something, you fucking bastard! Just refuse me. Let's put an end to this ridiculous game already!

And he has the guts to take another long sip from his goddamned coffee, slooowly putting the cup down, looking straight at her as he leans back, clasping his hands behind his head. Sadist.

…was that a smile?

"I'm glad to hear that."

Wait. What?

"…Y-You are?"

"Mmh."

"…this is too weird. You're just taking advantage of the fact that I'm not feeling well." Defensive.

"I could make you feel better."

The tremor that rakes down her back is almost violent enough to shake the table.

"…Excuse me?!"

"Oh, get your fucking mind out of the gutter, Blondie! I didn't mean it like that, damn it!" She almost, almost thinks that she can see a blush tinting his cheeks. Hn. She must be more tired than she thought. But it still makes her feel a lot more confident, and she smirks at him.

"…really."

"Now it's you who's being delusional." She's not just tired. It is a blush!

"If you say so."

She's totally won this.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"…can I ask you something?"

"Shoot, Blondie."

"Did you really think that my coffee tasted like crap?"

"Yup. It tasted like a cat had fucking pissed in it, seriously."

Blink. "…you're awful."

"What, did I hurt your feelings now?" How she loves it when he smirks like that. Like he knows that she'll see what he really means.

And she thinks that she does.

"…how does it taste now?"

He looks at her, silently, and she knows that she understands what it really means.

He's still struggling with himself. But he's trying. He's trying hard. And for that, she loves him. "It tastes wonderful."

"Really?" She sounds eager. Over a little coffee. How ridiculous.

But she knows he will understand. And therefore, she can allow herself to look deep into his eyes, look past the smirk, and see the smile.

"Seriously."

And she smiles back.