Prompt: “One is the rotten boss, one is the new employee”

Pairing: Chen/Xiumin

Words: ~1900

Sheets of white blanket the Apgujeong suburban sprawl, as torrents of snow beat across frigid air leave a heavy dusting of white on the roofs of parked cars. The streets are wet, and slippery underfoot, and police officers and public servants (begrudgingly) make a twenty-minute circular journey down each street, having to turn around and repeat the loud scraping of shovels on gravel as the areas they have just plowed clean are covered once again with the troublesome downfall. Getting close to Christmas, however, means that more and more people are braving the cold and iced pathways to get the last of their shopping done before they hole themselves up in their homes curled next to heaters or fires on decorative rugs and heated floorboards.

The same cannot be said, however, for Minseok. He wears his thickest duck-feather jacket and his high-trim snow boots as he trudges through the ice, cheeks reddened from the frigid air and barely concealed by his soft, woolen beanie. He finally makes it to a small glass door, pushes it open with a small jingle, and makes his way behind a counter. The coffee shop is already teeming with customers, out for their morning coffee or simply just stepping inside to escape the drudge of winter weather.

It is Minseok’s first day, and he’s not quite sure what to expect. He knows that it will be ridiculously busy for the next couple of weeks, but this expectation does not quell his overwhelming nervousness. Having only finished his barista course several days ago, he fears he will forget the Italian names of beverages or else confuse them; the customers eager to complain to him or about him. He sincerely hopes that the manager will be kind and welcoming; he seemed nice enough on the phone.

“Hello?” Minseok calls, stepping behind the counter to the back room. A table sits to the left with high shelves lining the opposite wall on the right, cluttered with bags of tea and jars filled to the brim with different labeled varieties of coffee beans. He hears a shuffle from a storeroom around the back, and a head pokes around the door with a knowing smile gracing well-defined lips. The figure is taller than Minseok but must be slightly younger, with skin taut covering prominent cheekbones and flashing, mischievous brown eyes.

“You must be Minseok, the new guy,” says the figure with a smile. “I’m Jongin. The manager’s not here yet, so it’s only the two of us for the morning shift. Try to keep up…”

Jongin is kind, but keeps Minseok on his toes. After Minseok has pulled an apron around his front he is immediately set to work, standing in front of the espresso machine and handing out coffees as fast as he can. He casts wary glances over each polystyrene cup as it reaches customer’s waiting hands, but no one has complained thus far and Jongin gives him approving nods every few minutes, wordlessly telling him that he is doing a good job.

Minseok eases into a routine, filling the portafilter basket with fresh coffee beans before inserting it into the group head, carefully putting on the gasket, and pressing the proper dispense switch on the side of the coffee machine. He then pulls the hot water tap, making sure the power switch and pressure gauge are at the right levels. Next comes the milk steamer, which he uses to heat a small jug of milk and then pours over each cup to add a thin layer of froth, always with a personalized, elaborate pattern. Occasionally he will lean down and collect a piece of cake or a sandwich from the glass cabinet before him which he then places on a plate, and hands to each expectant face with a smile.

“One Latte Macchiato, if you please.”

The next customer is just as short as Minseok; his jaw is so well-defined that Minseok imagines his face is carved just like an Ancient Greek bust. He exudes importance, an air of superiority surrounding him as his eyes scan the shop quickly, scowling haughtily before returning his gaze to Minseok. Minseok nods, recites the price as the figure stands watching him as he brews his order from scratch. The Latte Macchiato is slightly different to other drinks on the menu, with the espresso shot added last instead of first. Minseok does the milk, and then the foam, and then finally the hot water and espresso. The customer takes the cup without paying and stalks around to Minseok’s side of the counter, marching into the back room like he owns the place.

“Er…” Minseok starts, but Jongin is quick to hush him.

“That’s Jongdae,” Jongin mutters. “He’s the manager here, and he’s a pretty tough nut to crack. I’d keep my mouth shut around him if I were you – especially for the first week or two, if you even stay that long…” Jongin casts a furtive glance at the doorway behind him, before continuing in an even quieter whisper.

“He’s hell. In fact, if that Latte Macchiato isn’t up to scratch right now, you might not even be here for much longer… I remember my first week, boy was that an experience. He has this evil routine, you see – every day for the first week, he’ll ask the new guy for a different type of coffee, and if you fail on even one, you’re out. Your technique has to be perfect, and the taste has to be up to his standards… the last three new guys before you, let’s just say they didn’t make it past Jongdae’s little test.”

Minseok’s eyes widen in alarm. Fired, so soon? Silently and internally freaking out, he makes every endeavor to pay all possible attention to his new customers, but his ears slowly going red and his hands begin to shake. He wasn’t expecting this at all, and is sure he might just explode from the nervousness and pressure this Jongdae person has forced onto him. He manages a fake smile and waits for his new manager’s looming explosion, but to his surprise it never comes. When Minseok finally finishes his first shift, he shuffles into the back room and removes his apron, draping it over the back of a chair. Jongdae turns his head, gives a small, emotionless nod, and a single word passes his lips.

“Pass.”

The rest of the week continues this way; Jongdae arrives around midway through Minseok’s shift and asks for a different type of coffee each day. Minseok makes sure to put a little extra effort into each: an attractive swirl of whipped cream on top of a Mocha, making sure the proportions of foam are just right in his Espresso, Flat White, and Latte. Each afternoon, when his shifts finish, Jongdae gives him the same, dispassionate look and repeats the word that Minseok is silently begging for.

“Pass.”

By the time the week is finally over, Minseok feels like he’s going to faint from anxiousness. There is one more beverage he must impress Jongdae with, and each evening when he’s returned home from work he has scoured his personal notes from college and the internet, looking for any obscure type of coffee that Jongdae might ask for. He has dark rings under his eyes when he enters the coffee shop the next morning, to a bemused and somewhat concerned Jongin.

“Minseok, it’ll be okay. You’ve made it further than a lot of people, he’s going to have to keep you on after today,” he says, though Jongin’s tone sounds almost as anxious as Minseok feels. “Just don’t let him break you.”

Minseok thinks Jongdae probably will break him, but he manages his usual smile as customers pile in, working like clockwork to make sure they are all happily served.

“What can I get for you?” he asks, eyes closed with a grin plastered to his face. There is a grunt on the other side of the counter, and Minseok looks up, dread flashing across his eyes as his most rotten customer rattles off the most obscure drink that Minseok’s ever heard of.

“Café Miel.”

Minseok nods his head, as Jongin throws him a look of trepidation. He turns to the coffee machine, puts in fresh coffee beans, and pours a shot of espresso and steamed milk into a polystyrene cup. He leans to the other side of the bench, takes a pinch of cinnamon, and adds a small amount of honey. He stirs clockwise three times and then counterclockwise once, how he often prepares this specific drink at home. Thanking the stars that he actually knew what it was, Minseok hands the cup to Jongdae who takes it, gives it an appraising look, and marches as he usually does around the counter and into the back room.

All is silent for a few minutes, as there is a break in the steady stream of customers and Jongin leans against the cabinet, sighing dramatically. He glances at Minseok who is twitching with nervousness. Then, suddenly and in a booming voice, Jongdae calls out behind them.

“Minseok, in here now!”

Minseok obliges, shuffling into the back room cautiously. He takes a seat at the opposite side of the table to Jongdae, whose lips are in a flat line, his face completely unreadable. Minseok crosses his fingers underneath the table, as Jongdae clears his throat.

“What, pray tell, do you think this is?” Jongdae murmurs threateningly. Minseok shuts his eyes and flinches, halfway expecting a physical blow, before quietly responding almost to himself.

“Café Miel,” he breathes.

“What?” Jongdae asks loudly.

“Café Miel,” Minseok repeats, tossing a furtive glance across the table. He sighs, stony-faced, as he forces his voice steady. This is it, he thinks. Maybe he wasn’t cut out to be a barista after all… With all his mental preparation, however, Minseok ends up rambling at Jongdae rather loudly.

“It’s how I usually make it at home, I’ve been practicing all month, you see. I’ve experimented with the ratios of cinnamon and honey, made some changes to my recipe here and there, but –“

“Taste it,” Jongdae says, effectively silencing Minseok. He pushes the incriminating cup the small distance across the table.

Minseok takes a swig, nodding his head. Just how he liked it.

“That’s the way I like it to taste. If it’s not good enough for you, or if it’s not to your standards, I honestly don’t think I –“

“It’s perfect,” Jongdae cuts him off once again, lips parting to show perfect white teeth in a wide, almost astonished, grin. “I think your version is potentially even better than Jongin’s. That’s no easy feat.”

Minseok is stunned. This was the last thing he was expecting; a compliment from his devilish new boss. Minseok responds with a sheepish smile and shakes his head, pushing the cup back to Jongdae. Jongdae grabs it, finishes it off, and tosses it across into a bin by the door. He stands, walks across the room, and pets Minseok on the shoulder.

“Welcome to the team.”