Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Before you ask, no, I can’t smuggle you another Black Russian. …Rusty, what’s going on? What are you doing over there? …Oh my god. Keep me posted, Rusty. I’ll meet you there. …I’ll find a way, just get her there.

“I need to get to Oxnard.”

**********

He watched as her revelry melted into concern and then helplessness. He watched as Godot waved a backup over to tend the bar and followed her to the door. He watched as she stepped over the threshold into the wintery night, the circumstance apparently too urgent for her to go back for her coat, and hurried out of sight.

All of this he watched from his barstool with appropriate levels of concern. And then Bash was taken by an emotion that struck him as odd: jealousy. Jealousy that Godot was the one aiding Michelle in her hour of need, instead of…him.

“Oh…” Bash stared into the ether and slowly sipped the last of his highball dry. “Oh, that is so…so inconvenient.”

**********

Michelle came by the shop a week later.

“Bash, I don’t know if you’ve got some next-level espresso that the Italians only reveal to those who best them in international competition, but if such a thing exists, I need it.”

“Afraid triple shot is as high as I go. Any higher and it’ll get flagged on drug tests.”

“Had many busts, have you, El Chapo?”

“There was a woman who lived here a few years ago, came by once a month and asked for decaf. She would get tested once a week because she liked giving urine samples.”

“Yikes. I can’t imagine what her Tinder profile looked like.”

“I accidentally swiped right on her once. It was pretty kinky.”

“Right, ‘accidentally.’”

Bash gave a courtesy chuckle and got to work on her drink while Michelle smiled wearily; he could tell it had been awhile since she smiled like that.

“How’s Fanny doing?”

“Oh, you know, about as well as you can after finding out your own brain is slowly killing you.”

“I know it came as a shock to all of us. The few times Fanny’s been a woman about town lately she’s seemed like her normal self.”

“That’s the thing, she hasn’t shown anything but minor symptoms yet. If she hadn’t fallen on New Year’s Eve it could have been months before we caught it. Not that it does much good without a cure.”

“I had an uncle who went that way when I was nine - whip-smart, taught me how to play chess. The first time I beat him he was so proud. By the twelfth time he was forgetting the rules of the game, and it wasn’t fun anymore.”

“So you’re saying one day I’ll have to re-teach her what a plié is.” Michelle leaned her elbows on the counter and looked glum. “Goody for me.”

“If it’s any consolation,” offered Bash, “for the diagnosed the whole thing is basically painless. It’s the loved ones who suffer the most.”

“Come on, Bash. You know I’m not that altruistic.”

This time Bash’s chuckle was genuine. He turned around to see Michelle reaching into her purse; as she glanced up at her finished brew, he waved his free hand dismissively.

“This one’s on me.”

“Oh, Bash, I couldn’t…”

“I insist. You seem like you need it.”

Michelle grinned, appreciative of her friend’s intuition. “You’re sure?”

“Consider it a mea culpa that we’re out of the double-secret Corsican rocket fuel espresso.”

“Deal.” Bash winked and Michelle accepted the free cup, rewrapping her winter scarf around her neck. “I don’t care what they say about you - you’re a mensch, dear Sebastian.”

“I’ve lived here my whole life, I know what they say about me,” deadpanned Bash. “‘Out there’ seems to get the job done.”

“Well in that case, they’re right.” Michelle dropped a couple dollars in the tip jar as she turned away. “But it’s nice to have a mensch ‘out there’ anyway.”

Bash watched her walk away with an added spring in her step and knew it didn’t come from just the triple shot. He’d made her feel good. Which made him feel good. And he resolved right then that making Michelle feel good would be his mission whenever she stopped by his counter.

Chapter Text

“Hey, Bash!” Michelle wasn’t used to having to call for him over the din of a crowd. “Guess that trial run of actually taking orders was a hit.”

“I’ll admit it, business is booming,” confirmed Bash, who set a pair of ready orders on the counter to be collected and met her at the register. “Believe it or not it’s actually helped expand my range as a man of the bean.”

“Yikes, don’t ever use that phrase again, but please go on!”

“When someone orders a drink that goes against their aura, it’s up to me to make it in a way that will complement their inner palette while still qualifying as what they think they want. Plus, the tips are way better.”

“Well what do you know: the thing that worked for every coffee shop in the world worked for you too.”

“The universe is indeed full of surprises.” Bash conceded a smirk and pulled out his notepad and pen. “What’s your pleasure?”

“Hmmm,” pondered Michelle mysteriously. “I think I’m feeling a Johnny Ola.”

Bash scrunched his face. “I’m not familiar with that one.”

Michelle arched her eyebrow judgmentally. “You call yourself a man of the bean and haven’t heard of a Johnny Ola?”

“It sounds vaguely tropical. Talk me through it?”

“Okay, first thing is to dark roast some Cuban beans and add a splash of coconut milk…”

Michelle began rattling off a host of seemingly incompatible ingredients, Bash faithfully mixing in banana flavoring one minute and a splash of pineapple juice the next.

“Am I getting close?” asked Bash after dropping in a lime wedge. “This is starting to resemble less coffee and more daiquiri.”

“Just one more ingredient,” urged Michelle. “What ties it all together is a dash of cumin.”

“Cumin!” blurted Bash as he threw his hands up in exasperation. “Now who in their right mind would pair half a dozen tropical fruits with cumin?!”

“Why, Johnny Ola told me about this drink!” insisted Michelle, a knowing grin starting to creep across her lips. “Old Man Roth would never order something so bold, but Johnny knows these brews like the back of his hand.”

Bash’s posture straightened, his face turning stony as he stared past Michelle.

“Is this another Godfather reference?”

“Ooh, Michael made that same face when he figured it out!”

Bash leaned on the counter and moaned a deep, defeated sigh. Only then did Michelle finally relent.

“Okay, you’ve been a good sport. How much for the Corleone monstrosity?”

“It’s on the house.”

“Bash, there’s like seven add-ons in there! At Starbucks they’d make me put up collateral.”

“If I charge you, it means I stand by it. But I’m not going to have whatever Frankenstein’s creation you had me assemble besmirch my name as a man of the bean.”

“This ‘man of the bean’ thing, did some council of baristas really come together and decide-”

“Just take your drink and go.”

Michelle snickered and turned to leave but couldn’t go without pressing one more of Bash’s buttons.

“You wouldn’t by chance have any little paper umbrellas-”

“Get out.”

Michelle tiptoed hastily out of the shop, shaking her head in satisfaction with the whole exchange. So pleasant was her mood that she forgot what was in her cup until taking a gulp.

Bleghhh. She winced as she swallowed her half latte, half piña colada. Then after successfully pushing down the urge to retch, she felt a strange warmth at the back of her throat, her taste buds dancing with flavor as she smacked her lips in satisfaction.

“Son of a bitch. Even his joke drinks turn out great.”

Chapter Text

“Top of the morning, Bash!”

That Michelle was surprisingly chipper was the first thing Bash noticed. Second was that she had company.

“Morning, Michelle. Hey, Truly.”

“Sebastian.” Truly fidgeted where she stood, avoided direct eye contact, and looked generally uncomfortable. In other words, perfectly herself.

“What’ll it be today? Your usuals?”

“Please,” confirmed Michelle. “And Truly would like to cash in her St. Patrick’s Day freebie.”

Bash rolled his eyes toward the ceiling as he prepared the brews. “Okay, one, that’s not a thing. Two, St. Patrick’s Day was a month ago. Three, she’s not even Irish.”

“Yes she is! Tell him, Truly. You were guzzling down Guinness at the Oyster Bar that night.”

“They don’t serve Guinness at the Oyster Bar,” noted Truly.

“Well, not since you blew in last month and rank them dry!” lauded Michelle.

“Truly, your last name is Stone,” insisted Bash. “What are you playing at?”

“Stone is actually short for…Blarneystone.” Truly’s voice trailed off as she said it, what little belief she had in the scheme deflating like a balloon.

“Blarneystone?”

“Blarneystone.”

“Your real last name is Blarneystone.”

“They changed it at Ellis Island.”

“Your people came from the Oregon Trail, Truly. I remember the social studies project in junior high.”

“Come now, Bash!” urged Michelle. “Who are we to deny this good Irish lass a free coffee to celebrate such a proud heritage?”

“I can’t do this,” confessed Truly, finally cracking for good. “I’m not really Irish!”

“Hey, narc much? We had him!”

“You really didn’t.”

“It’s true. Our ancestors are mostly English. We oppressed the Irish for centuries. I don’t deserve a free drink on their day!”

“Even more reason to let her have it! What could be more Irish than the English plundering the Irish of their riches?”

Bash thrusted the cups onto the counter with a thud. “If I don’t charge for either will you take them and go away?”

“Swear on Van Morrison’s grave.”

“Van Morrison isn’t dead…”

“Just go.”

“I’ll Venmo you for mine, Sebastian,” promised Truly as Michelle handed over her free drink, the latter returning a twinkling grin toward their reluctant benefactor.

“We daughters of the Emerald Isle thank you!”

“YOU’RE NOT IRISH EITHER!”

“A nation once again, a nation once again…”

“I don’t even like Guinness! It’s like drinking pumpernickel bread!”

Bash pinched the bridge of his nose as Michelle and her coconspirator made their exit, the jangling of the front door’s bell bringing a deceptively tranquil end to their latest showdown.

“Dozens of eligible women in town, and you had to pick the one who makes your stupid brain hurt?”

Chapter Text

When Bash found a rhythm at work, he went into a sort of trance, his senses immune to the outside world as his full attention locked in on his latest creation, in this case an artisan macchiato for a Giants scout passing through on the way to a minor league game in Rancho Cucamonga. So when he finished the brew and turned around, he was startled to see Michelle seated at the counter, reading glasses affixed to her face, which was buried in a stack of papers.

“Jeez,” he said with a start, grateful that he recently started using lids as he handed the scout his coffee. “How long have you been sitting there?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Michelle, setting down her reading material and frowning. “There were Studebakers parked out front when I walked in - they still there?”

“Har-har.” Bash nodded appreciatively as the scout left a couple bucks in the tip jar and turned his full attention to Michelle. “Why the long face?”

“Oh, just doing my best to look like Sarah Jessica Parker in case they ever make a Sex and the City musical.”

“With your strong Carrie vibes, you’d be a shoo-in.”

“Such an astute observation from a Miranda.”

“I mean, obviously.”

Michelle grinned politely but her funk remained, a rarity that didn’t go unnoticed to Bash.

“Seriously, what’s up?”

“Just this business crap. Milly wants us to incorporate Paradise Productions, so I’ve been trying to study up before our meeting tomorrow. I feel like I’m drowning in a sea of LLCs and FTEs and CBDs.”

“Yeah, that last one is definitely not a business term.”

“If it were, maybe I would be mellow enough to understand what the hell an LLC is.”

“Truly might be able to help you out. With as long as Sparkles has been open she’s got to have some kind of business acumen.”

“She does, and she’s been a godsend, and she speaks Milly, which is doubly helpful.” Michelle took off her glasses and rubbed her temple. “But there’s only so much I can take in, and I’m spread so thin now as it is. Milly’s been on my ass about stuff I’m only beginning to understand, Boo is basically running the dance studio for nothing, and Fanny’s condition changes seemingly every day. It’s my cross to bear right now, and I’m glad to bear it, but it’s…it’s a lot, Bash. It’s just a lot.”

While he had long felt affection for Michelle Simms, in that moment Bash was struck by a strong sense of admiration for her. When she first arrived on the scene seven years ago, there were real questions about how long she’d be for Paradise. But after all she and the town had been through together, whatever doubts anyone still harbored were long gone.

“I’ve got just the thing. Wait here.” Bash pivoted toward the back counter and got to work, leaving Michelle to return to her forms. Five minutes later he returned with a jet-black coffee in his largest mug.

“Give that a few sips,” he urged, nudging the brew in Michelle’s direction. “And see if it does the trick.”

“Okay, mysterious. What is it?”

“That right there is double-secret Corsican rocket fuel espresso.”

Michelle blinked in confusion, then as her memory clicked her tongue did the same and a genuine smile overtook her cheeks.

“So this is the stuff, huh?” she mused, taking a first drink sip. A pulse shot through her eyeballs and the muscles in her neck tightened as she swallowed.

“Whoa, Dr. Feelgood much?”

“Strongest stuff I’ve got.”

“That tastes like…four espresso shots.”

“Sometimes I have to chase it with regular black coffee. It makes that Five Hour Energy crap look like chamomile tea.”

“This is great, I’m already buzzing. This’ll help me speed-read these contracts. I still won’t understand them, but I’ll be done with them faster!”

“Milly will be thrilled.”

Michelle hummed in satisfaction with every gulp and began packing up her papers to leave.

“That was sublime, Bash. When the feeling comes back to my fingertips I’ll go snag you a twenty.”

“Eh, fuggedaboutdit.”

“Dude!”

“The council doesn’t like to profit from the Corsican.”

“This would be your round table of bean men?”

“That would mean tacitly admitting its existence,” explained Bash with a wink.

“I don’t know what ‘tacitly’ means, but fair enough!”

“Just remember what I said about drug testing.”

“They’ll never trace it back to you!” promised Michelle as she downed the last of the rocket fuel and arose from the stool. “And if peeing in a cup suddenly turns me on, I’ll ring you!”

“Please don’t ring me for that!”

“Too late, already updating my Tinder!”

Bash glanced around anxiously to make sure nobody had eavesdropped on the end of what was a strange conversation even by Michelle’s standards.

“You’re a menace to society!”

“That’s exactly what a Miranda would say!

Bash shook his head and laughed to himself, waiting until the front door closed behind her before sealing the espresso jar. There was no need for her to know it really was just four espresso shots - where would the fun be in that?

Chapter Text

“Do you need help finding a place to stay?” asked Michelle, coffee from Bash’s in hand, her feet gliding gracefully across the warm sand. “I’ve still got a bridge or two in New York I haven’t blown to bits.”

“Thanks,” giggled Boo between sips of her own coffee, “but I think Matisse is still looking for a roommate. I’m going to hit her up this afternoon.”

“She’ll be thrilled. She asks about you a lot.”

“She’s a good kid. Plus if we find two more Brooklyn friends we can launch a Girls reboot.”

“Now if it’s shady Adam Driver types you’re after, that I can definitely help with.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. But right now I’m just focused on getting out there. I don’t have much to pack, I can probably fit it all in one suitcase, it’s just a matter of finding a flight in two weeks that won’t bankrupt me.”

“Don’t worry about it - I’ll pay for your ticket.”

“Michelle, I couldn’t…”

“I insist.”

“No, really, I…”

“Boo, you’ve done so much for me these past six months. Let me do this for you. Consider it a bonus.”

While Boo still looked uneasy about the idea, Michelle knew framing it as a bonus was one way she would accept it.

“Okay. To be honest, it will be a big help.”

“It’s the least I could do, grasshopper.”

That got Boo smiling again. “Thank you, sensei.”

The two continued on their leisurely stroll, Boo basking in the midday sun and digging her toes a little deeper in the sand with each step, as if trying to capture the perfect memory of her West Coast home before casting her lot back East.

“I think I’m going to restart therapy when I get to the city, too,” mentioned Boo with quiet conviction. Michelle offered an affirming nod in return.

“When was the last time you saw Dr. Graham?”

“Not for a while. It was hard to find the time after high school.”

“If you ask, I’m sure she can put you in touch with someone out there.”

“That’s what I’m thinking. And I’d rather get this sorted out now than when I’m knee deep in auditions.”

“Anything in particular make you want to get back to it?”

“Just…a lot of stuff I’ve been keeping to myself, and now I’m ready to talk about it.”

Michelle smiled and noted the ease with which Boo said it. She recalled the other night when Boo and Sasha left Fanny’s house together and the light in the guest house stayed on practically till sunup. The two were inseparable for the rest of Sasha’s visit, both behaving more like themselves than Michelle had seen in years. Whatever they said to each other that night, Michelle thought, it had been enough to make Boo finally start living again.

“You’re going to love it in New York,” continued Michelle. “It’s the only place that has better coffee than right here.”

“Don’t let Bash hear you say that,” teased Boo, humming to herself as she finished her last gulp. “So good. This is your regular order?”

“It is. It was the funniest thing, he said some Karen cursed him out for taking too long and left just before he finished. And it was the same kind I usually order, so he gave it to me no charge! Can you believe that?”

“Of course I can. He likes you.”

“What?” chortled Michelle reflexively. “He does not.”

“Yeah, he does,” insisted Boo casually, as if it were old news.

“No way.”

Boo arched her eyebrow. “You seriously never noticed?”

“Noticed? What’s there to notice?”

“Come on, Michelle! We were just talking about Lin-Manuel, it’s like you’re Vanessa and Bash is Usnavi, always inventing excuses to give you your coffee for free!”

That shattered the glass for Michelle. And Boo Jordan of all people shattered it. Boy, that’s a real low.

“So…you’re saying there was no Karen who stormed out because he was taking too long?”

“I’m saying he smiles more around you than he does around anyone else. If that isn’t a sign…”

Boo smirked and the two resumed their walk, Michelle’s face going blank as she sifted through her memories of her recent visits to Bash’s shop. Two things in particular quickly became apparent. One, there was probably no such thing as ‘double-secret Corsican rocket fuel espresso.’ Two, Bash did smile a lot around her. And it was such a nice smile.

Chapter Text

“Sebastian, my good man, this calls for a celebration!”

Bash looked up and saw Michelle with arms spread wide as the door closed behind her.

“You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“It’s your special day!”

“My special…”

“National Barista Day, of course!”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes it is!”

“National Barista Day was four months ago.”

“Well, what’s four months between friends?”

“Remind me to get you a calendar the next time there’s a holiday that calls for exchanging gifts,” mused Bash as Michelle reached for a coffee cup and a marker. “What are you…”

“I’m buying you a drink!”

“Michelle, really, that-”

“No, I insist. Pour yourself a cup of your favorite so-and-so, on me.”

Michelle finished writing on the cup and fished a wrinkled fiver and a couple ones out of her pocket before setting them on the counter with authority. Bash looked at her with a mix of exasperation and amusement.

“Seriously Michelle. This is not necessary.”

“Too late. No take-backs on National Barista Day.”

“I have drink specials every year on the actual day, you know. This year I had a big sign!”

“Enjoy your freebie, oh great Bean Baron!”

With a mischievous grin and a twinkle in her eye, Michelle pivoted and practically skipped out of the shop.

“You seriously don’t remember the big sign?”

The jangle from the bell helped Bash’s brain catch up with real time. He looked down to see the cup Michelle had paid for and picked it up, expecting to see some Starbucks-level hackjob of his name written on it. Instead, what he saw made him shake his head and smile.

**********

Michelle had just rounded the corner onto her favorite walking path when she felt her phone vibrate.

“Yesss?”

“You know I’ve had your number for years, right?”

“I’m sorry, this is…?”

“I saw your contacts once - you’ve got me entered as ‘Drug Dealer’ with a little heart emoji.”

“I mean technically caffeine is a drug, so…”

“Michelle.”

“It’s symbolic, you dope! Now are you gonna ask me out or what?”

Bash clicked his tongue and Michelle knew he was smirking at the other end of the line.

“Finally figured it out, did you?”

“I might be the last person in town who did.”

“Hey, slow and steady wins the race.”

“First prize is a date with the local upper merchant.”

“Dinner next week?”

“You pick the place.”

“There’s a great Polish restaurant in Newbury Park.”

“I do love a good pierogi. Can I pick what comes after?”

“Lay it on me.”

“Well, for starters, you owe me a bottle of cold champagne.”

“Oh my lord, will you please let that go? We’ve shared a bottle every wildfire since. I even got you a ‘CAP’ cap that actually fits!”

“Well, I was only referring to a modern classic of the Broadway canon, but since you brought it up: yeah, what the hell, man?!?”

Bash sighed deeply, as he had many times over the years, but this time Michelle could detect a hint of merriment.

“You’re impossible.”

“Think of how much more fun it will be.”

“You free Saturday?”

“Pick me up at 4?”

“It’s a date.”

“See you then.”

“Thanks for the coffee.”

Michelle pocketed her phone and smiled as the dance studio came into view. She made a mental note to enjoy this early stage when she already knew how to get under his skin and he didn’t know how to get under hers. He would learn soon enough. That’s when the real fun would begin.