Page 6 of Johann

He debated grabbing his coat, but despite the snow on the ground, the chill was nothing compared to what he’d left behind in New York. His gray cashmere would do just fine.

Alexei’s desire for a six a.m. coffee didn’t seem to be a popular one that morning. The large front windows of the little café showed it to be mostly empty, its small wooden tables and cozy atmosphere shared only by an older couple reading their respective papers in the corner.

Alexei made his way inside, grimacing in annoyance at the jangling bell announcing his arrival.

“Hello!”

Alexei tapped his boots on the mat at the door, looking to the source of the greeting. There was a little guy at the counter, dressed in a truly hideous sweatshirt, and he was waving at Alexei with surprising gusto. Alexei was so distracted by the strange enthusiasm of the greeting (not to mention that eyesore of an outfit), that he was all the way to the counter before his brain processed the fact that the guy beneath the clothes could only be described as…adorable.

Distractingly so.

The barista couldn’t have been any taller than five feet five, with dainty features and a mess of dark hair, the oversize, electric-blue sweatshirt with the kittens on it so large on him he’d had to roll it over about a dozen times to get it above his elbows.

Alexei had the momentary, completely bizarre thought that he wanted to steal him. To put the stranger in his pocket and take him back to his apartment, stash him there for the foreseeable future. Just…keep him.

Because apparently Alexei’s recent hermitage had melted his fucking brain.

“I’m Johann,” the guy chirped, oblivious to Alexei’s disturbing new impulses, still waving enthusiastically even though Alexei was now directly in front of him. “But you can call me Jay. Welcome in. You’ve really chosen very well.” His eyes—a soothing slate gray—were positively shining. “Our coffee’s delicious. The best in town. Although, I wouldn’t actually know. It’s the only coffee I’ve ever had.”

Alexei was staring, and not just because of the word salad he’d just been presented with. He simply couldn’t look away. The guy was so…pretty. Gorgeous in a soft, unassuming way, with that little button nose, those Cupid’s bow lips. And really, the bed head look he had going on was too much; it was sending Alexei’s brain into dangerous territory. Like sweat-soaked sheets and a dark head bobbing between his legs and a million other dirty things he shouldn’t be thinking about.

His dick was in serious danger of plumping up in his jeans just from looking at the guy.

What in the actual fuck?Alexei needed to get his head on straight. He’d seen a million and one cute twinks in the city, hosted a considerably lower number than that in his bed, and he’d never before felt like he was two steps away from leaping over a coffee shop counter and—

And what, planting a kiss on the guy? Hoisting him over his shoulder?

What waswrongwith him?

Alexei cleared his throat, trying to find the corner of his brain that knew how to order coffee like a regular human. “I—”

“Your eyes,” the barista—Jay, he’d said his name was—interrupted, leaning forward so they were nose to nose, his breath warm on Alexei’s face. Alexei hadn’t realized until that moment how far he himself had leaned over the counter, as if pulled by some magnetic force. The barista smelled like peppermint. “They have so many colors in them.”

Alexei had nothing to say to that, but that didn’t seem to bother Jay. “I can see green. Blue. Little flecks of golden brown.” Jay smiled wide at him, leaning back and leaving Alexei feeling oddly bereft. “They’re really very pretty.”

Alexei cleared his throat for the second time, trying to find his bearings. He was taken strangely off guard by the compliment. His eyes had always been a source of discomfort for him. His older and younger brothers had gotten the ice-blue coloring of their father’s, paired with his white-blond hair. Proof of their heritage, the strength of the family line. Proof Alexei had never received. Nor had he inherited his mother’s eyes, neither their limpid brown color nor their warmth. His strange hazel eyes were an anomaly, one his father had always liked to prod at when he wanted Alexei to feel…other.

Alexei tried to get some words out. “Okay. Thanks. So—”

“And your hair.” The barista cocked his head like a little bird. Or a curious kitten. “There’s so much golden blond but also bits of brown and even some streaks of—I don’t know…strawberry?”

Alexei lifted a hand to his own head, fingers touching the overly long hair he’d pulled into a loose bun that morning. He’d been meaning to cut it, maybe even dye it. He now suddenly felt quite strongly he should leave it exactly the way it was.

“And you smell really good. Like vanilla.” For just a second, there was a flash of….something…in Jay’s gray eyes. Almost predatory. But Alexei must have been imagining it, because the next second, it was gone, and Jay was again looking upbeat and perky, smiling brightly at him. “So what can I get for you? And what name for the order?”

Alexei’s mouth moved on autopilot, his brain now seemingly permanently somewhere far away. “An Americano. Please. Alex.”

Jay beamed at him. “Okay, Alex. I know how to make that.”

“Good.” Alexei didn’t recognize his own voice, the strange husky note to it.

“It is, isn’t it? Although, to be fair, I know how to make all our drinks now.” Once again, Alexei had nothing to say in response. A brief stare-off ensued before Jay lifted a finger to point to the other end of the counter. “If you wait over there, it’ll be out in a jiffy.”

Alexei forced himself to unfreeze his muscles and move from where he stood over to where the redhead manning the espresso machine was watching him with clear amusement on her face. He didn’t look back at Jay. He couldn’t.

“What just happened?”

It wasn’t until the redhead answered him that Alexei realized he’d asked his question out loud. She smirked at him, tamping down the espresso she’d just ground. “I’d say you got Jayed.”

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