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fellowshippers2003-08-07 11:26 pm
aduialelin.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2003-08-07 11:26 pm
Cappuccino Sundays
Cappuccino Sundays – mini ficlet series
By Aduial Elin (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
autumnlecroix)
Monaboyd
G
Summary: Dom hates movie stars.
Warnings: \:D/ None! Only that it’s AU.
Dedicated to my little barista slaving self. Seriously. I am officially dedicating this fic to myself. *cracks up* HAHAHA!!! :)) \:D/ @ coffee/espresso *dances*
~This ficlet series promises to be non-angsty~...and it's really light and good hearted, vastly different from my last stories, Addiction. *laughs* Just something fun and frothy to lighten the mood. :D:D @ happieness
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Pour 14 oz of whole milk into an alumminum beaker and place below steamer head. Start steaming by barely submerging head in milk to create a nice frothy consistancy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He was short—arrogance oozing from his pores.
He walked into the small coffee shop with his little posse of movie star friends falling in line behind him and stood at the counter waiting to be served rather impatiently. Not even bothering to remove his sunspecs, he asked, “What is your house specialty?”
Oh this was rich, I thought to myself. Mr. Movie-Star wants the best. Big-fucking-surprise. I looked at him and cocked my eyebrow in question. “Are you referring to blended bean coffees, or something made with espresso?” He was short, only 165 cm’s or so with broad shoulders and spiky sandy blond hair littered with highlights.
Fucking movie stars.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When it reaches 43'C (110'F), submerge the head into the milk fully to mix the solution. When it reaches 82'C (180'F), remove nozzel and place milk in refridgerator for foam to set up.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“What is your house specialty?” He asked cooly.
Every day! Every goddamned day for the past two weeks Mr. Movie-Star would come in and proceed to ask me what the house special was, as if it were going to be different then the day prior. And every day, he came in with his posse behind him, and refused to remove his sunspecs.
Arrogant prick.
Have I mentioned that I –REALLY- dislike movie stars? I mean honestly! What makes them so high and mighty that they treat fucking baristas like shit?
Fucking movie stars.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Pour fresh espresso beans into the hopper and grind them. Pull a double shot and let the grounds fall into the handle. Tamp the espresso and place handle in espresso machine, clicking it into place.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was Sunday morning and I was working a shift that I don’t normally catch. Sundays are my day off, after all. I was almost semi-relieved that I wouldn’t need to deal with Mr. Movie-Star prick today.
Oooor maybe not. The father must be laughing, for this is getting ironically ridiculous.
However, something was different today. I almost didn’t recognize him. He wore his usual sunspecs, though he had a hat on covering most of his face. He wore baggy shorts and a raggedy old tee shirt rather then his usual pressed khaki's and black oxford. He looked…smaller, less “grandiose” then the normal conceited attitude he seemed to exude.
Though most unusual of all, he was alone.
He calmly walked up to the counter, took off his sunspecs, and smiled. “What is your house specialty?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Push the double shot button and let the espresso fall into the little pitcher beneath the spigit and immediately pour into glass. To prevent bitterness, wait no longer then 30 seconds from the time you punched your shot, to the time you mixed it with the frothy milk.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Green.
Oh. My. God. His eyes were green. And not just any green, a green that twinkled and shimmered in the bright lights of the coffee shop. I must have stood there with my jaw agape, because he spoke again. “You’re not usually in on Sundays, are you?”
I stuttered, reaching for the familiar handles that I would use to make his espresso drink. “I…uh…no. I’m picking up a friend’s shift.”
He mutely nodded his understanding.
I finished the drink and handed him my frothy masterpiece. He smiled and took the drink gratefully, and handed me the money to pay for it. “I’m glad you were here today. You’re the only one in this joint who can make a decent cup of Java. Thanks.”
He turned to walk out and on the counter behind him was a 20 pound note. All I could do was stand there blankly, watching his retreating form walk out of the café.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Remove the milk from the refridgerator and pour the solution into the glass currently holding the espresso. As the glass fills, grab a spoon and nudge some foam onto the top of the glass.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There were never any words that passed between us aside from that one Sunday a few weeks ago, but something notably had changed. Well, not so much changed, but softened slightly. Every morning he came in he would still have his posse behind him, and he would still ask what the house special was, but now he would take his sunspecs, set them on the counter, and smile slightly when he asked.
He knew what the house special was, for every morning I would make him the same thing—a double cappuccino with a half pump of chocolate and a splash of cream de menthe, extra froth on top, no whip.
I heard one of the blokes behind him say that they were in their last week of filming and how relieved they would be to get out of our little town.
He was leaving.
Fucking movie star posses.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
To complete the perfect cappuccino, top the drink off with a dollup of wet foam and shape into a heart for the customer, letting them see the design before they place the lid on top.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was an uncharacteristically slow morning. Most of our regulars had either gone out of town or not come in at all, and I hadn’t seen the movie star and his posse for weeks.
Bloody hell I hate working on holidays.
I had done everything in the store twice over and was bored to tears. Succumbing to thine boredom, I grabbed the newspaper and purused the headlines. Skipping over the major headlines, I noticed a sub-headline about the movie that had just finished filming here.
“Filming of Faults moves into post production this week as it’s movie stars Billy Boyd, Orlando Bloom, and Elijah Wood relocated to Las Angeles, California a month ago to finish filming up their special fx shots in New Line’s digital workshop in America. Sources say that….”
Well, that’s that then. I finished reading the article and was so engrossed in it that I about dropped my coffee when a soft voice broke the silence and asked, “What’s your house specialty?”
By Aduial Elin (
autumnlecroix)Monaboyd
G
Summary: Dom hates movie stars.
Warnings: \:D/ None! Only that it’s AU.
Dedicated to my little barista slaving self. Seriously. I am officially dedicating this fic to myself. *cracks up* HAHAHA!!! :)) \:D/ @ coffee/espresso *dances*
~This ficlet series promises to be non-angsty~...and it's really light and good hearted, vastly different from my last stories, Addiction. *laughs* Just something fun and frothy to lighten the mood. :D:D @ happieness
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Pour 14 oz of whole milk into an alumminum beaker and place below steamer head. Start steaming by barely submerging head in milk to create a nice frothy consistancy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He was short—arrogance oozing from his pores.
He walked into the small coffee shop with his little posse of movie star friends falling in line behind him and stood at the counter waiting to be served rather impatiently. Not even bothering to remove his sunspecs, he asked, “What is your house specialty?”
Oh this was rich, I thought to myself. Mr. Movie-Star wants the best. Big-fucking-surprise. I looked at him and cocked my eyebrow in question. “Are you referring to blended bean coffees, or something made with espresso?” He was short, only 165 cm’s or so with broad shoulders and spiky sandy blond hair littered with highlights.
Fucking movie stars.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When it reaches 43'C (110'F), submerge the head into the milk fully to mix the solution. When it reaches 82'C (180'F), remove nozzel and place milk in refridgerator for foam to set up.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“What is your house specialty?” He asked cooly.
Every day! Every goddamned day for the past two weeks Mr. Movie-Star would come in and proceed to ask me what the house special was, as if it were going to be different then the day prior. And every day, he came in with his posse behind him, and refused to remove his sunspecs.
Arrogant prick.
Have I mentioned that I –REALLY- dislike movie stars? I mean honestly! What makes them so high and mighty that they treat fucking baristas like shit?
Fucking movie stars.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Pour fresh espresso beans into the hopper and grind them. Pull a double shot and let the grounds fall into the handle. Tamp the espresso and place handle in espresso machine, clicking it into place.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was Sunday morning and I was working a shift that I don’t normally catch. Sundays are my day off, after all. I was almost semi-relieved that I wouldn’t need to deal with Mr. Movie-Star prick today.
Oooor maybe not. The father must be laughing, for this is getting ironically ridiculous.
However, something was different today. I almost didn’t recognize him. He wore his usual sunspecs, though he had a hat on covering most of his face. He wore baggy shorts and a raggedy old tee shirt rather then his usual pressed khaki's and black oxford. He looked…smaller, less “grandiose” then the normal conceited attitude he seemed to exude.
Though most unusual of all, he was alone.
He calmly walked up to the counter, took off his sunspecs, and smiled. “What is your house specialty?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Push the double shot button and let the espresso fall into the little pitcher beneath the spigit and immediately pour into glass. To prevent bitterness, wait no longer then 30 seconds from the time you punched your shot, to the time you mixed it with the frothy milk.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Green.
Oh. My. God. His eyes were green. And not just any green, a green that twinkled and shimmered in the bright lights of the coffee shop. I must have stood there with my jaw agape, because he spoke again. “You’re not usually in on Sundays, are you?”
I stuttered, reaching for the familiar handles that I would use to make his espresso drink. “I…uh…no. I’m picking up a friend’s shift.”
He mutely nodded his understanding.
I finished the drink and handed him my frothy masterpiece. He smiled and took the drink gratefully, and handed me the money to pay for it. “I’m glad you were here today. You’re the only one in this joint who can make a decent cup of Java. Thanks.”
He turned to walk out and on the counter behind him was a 20 pound note. All I could do was stand there blankly, watching his retreating form walk out of the café.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Remove the milk from the refridgerator and pour the solution into the glass currently holding the espresso. As the glass fills, grab a spoon and nudge some foam onto the top of the glass.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There were never any words that passed between us aside from that one Sunday a few weeks ago, but something notably had changed. Well, not so much changed, but softened slightly. Every morning he came in he would still have his posse behind him, and he would still ask what the house special was, but now he would take his sunspecs, set them on the counter, and smile slightly when he asked.
He knew what the house special was, for every morning I would make him the same thing—a double cappuccino with a half pump of chocolate and a splash of cream de menthe, extra froth on top, no whip.
I heard one of the blokes behind him say that they were in their last week of filming and how relieved they would be to get out of our little town.
He was leaving.
Fucking movie star posses.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
To complete the perfect cappuccino, top the drink off with a dollup of wet foam and shape into a heart for the customer, letting them see the design before they place the lid on top.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was an uncharacteristically slow morning. Most of our regulars had either gone out of town or not come in at all, and I hadn’t seen the movie star and his posse for weeks.
Bloody hell I hate working on holidays.
I had done everything in the store twice over and was bored to tears. Succumbing to thine boredom, I grabbed the newspaper and purused the headlines. Skipping over the major headlines, I noticed a sub-headline about the movie that had just finished filming here.
“Filming of Faults moves into post production this week as it’s movie stars Billy Boyd, Orlando Bloom, and Elijah Wood relocated to Las Angeles, California a month ago to finish filming up their special fx shots in New Line’s digital workshop in America. Sources say that….”
Well, that’s that then. I finished reading the article and was so engrossed in it that I about dropped my coffee when a soft voice broke the silence and asked, “What’s your house specialty?”