(mercedes/constance) honey latte; AU

“You should’ve come later.”

Mercedes gave the one who stood before her as she took over the cashier duty her signature laughter. The two part-timers are busy with cleanup and tending to the drinks at the lunch rush hour when someone the manager knew so well decided to pop in as one of the buyer.

She stood out with her long sleeves and umbrella by the hot summer day out, but as the blonde always says: she never care a thing of what anyone might say. After those protection, still, the blonde was flushed red to her neck from the burning sun. And, although she could get Mercedes’ attention and have her order faster, she waited in the line just like everyone else.

“And pass up the chance to meet up with my beloved? That’s hardly a bargain, Mercedes.”

Constance puffed up her chest in pride, though Mercedes didn’t know what kind of pride she is having a moment by then. The busy line has died down from the cashier, leaving the people bustling on the pick-up counter, which means they could have a minute or two of conversation.

“The usual, then?”

“Make it extra cold, alright? I think the sun going to be the end of me.”

“With lots of honey?”

“Of course,” her eyes darted to survey the pick-up counter. “But don’t you dare to make my order first before everyone else. No special treatment. Everyone is as thirsty here as I am.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

---

After the part-timer is going to the last batch of order, Mercedes is the one to made Constance’s Honey Latte. The blonde always picked up the seat farther from the glass wall of the café to avoid any sunlight, while she would likely phone or text someone from her office to notify whether she would be back after a while.

Constance might be busier than how Mercedes is daily with the managerial café work, but the blonde is always one to make sure she meet up with Mercedes when she got the time. She can’t promise anything, then again she never once betrayed Mercedes in any way (like doing pranks or pulling needless surprises).

Finishing up with cold and sweet Honey Latte, Mercedes personally brought it to Constance’s table and sit with her, waiting as she is engaged in phone call with someone—who’s likely one of her coworker, Hapi. Mercedes got herself a nice cup of chamomile, her personal blend with an imported Albinean Berry tea leaf, also she added two slices of cheesecake for them to enjoy along.

“You don’t need to do that. You know that I will pay.”

“And I will always say that it is my lunch break that I want to share my lunch with you.” Mercedes reasoned. “Or can’t I?”

Constance never argue when it comes to that, and Mercedes couldn’t contain her giggle as she heaved a defeated sigh. The blonde has ever picked up the argument before and it does last long, though she still can’t win over it.

“… As you wish.”

Their meetings might be scarce and never drag on too long, it was enough for them to enjoy drinks and cakes at least.  Their scope of conversation mostly professional, if not about Constance ranted about how Yuri or Balthus doing with their own jobs. Mercedes is happy to listen – to know that Constance is having fun in her work and her life has always been more than enough.

“Though, sometimes I think of what nicknames to give you with,” Constance coughed at that. “I mean, doesn’t Hapi called you with Coco? I want to give you a nice nickname too!”

“Y-You really shouldn’t, Mercedes!” she blurted an objection. “I’m, I’m fine to hear you calling by my full name.”

“Constance?” she repeated.

“Indeed. Like that. I like it better without any nicknames,” she expressed. Though paused, her lips stayed on the cup of her Honey Latte in thought. “It … it sounded nice, coming from your lips.”

Mercedes went red. The blonde always one to be straightforward – also to be quick to make a comeback to retract her statement. However, she didn’t; Constance was stock still, her cheeks colored but no longer because of the harsh summer heat. Her brilliant blue eyes didn’t shy away, as though waiting for the older woman to reply.

“Oh, my. That’s one blunt declaration, Constance!”

“Is it a wrong move to indulge to my beloved?”

Still blushing, Mercedes reached out to take Constance’s hand on the table, squeezing it gently.

“Really, you.”