Cops Prefer Croissants, 1/3
Dec. 6th, 2011 07:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jackofknavesTitle: Cops Prefer Croissants
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tripatch
Rating: PG
Pairing: Monroe/Nick
Summary: Bakery!AU. Monroe runs a bakery, Nick is clueless.
Notes: If anyone has a more clever name for the bakery, feel free to suggest it!
Monroe didn't know every customer who wandered into the Full Moon Cafe. It was a popular place, from locals who knew about his gourmet coffee that was always just the right temperature to the tourists who read about it in the most recent, "Explore Portland!" brochure.
He recognized a few faces, however—mostly the regulars who walked in yawning or tapping on their cell phones, but always managed to give him a smile as he handed them their order. It was soothing, comforting. There was something therapeutic about putting in a new batch of muffins, brewing the coffee that permeated the entire room and made his nose twitch, mixing the batter together for the slices of cranberry cake, and repeating the entire process all over again in an hour.
The shop wasn’t large enough to afford too many employees and yes, okay, Monroe had some control issues but after the last college student who had begged him for a job managed to set his muffins on fire, he didn’t think it was wrong to be a little protective. Among the employees he had kept, there was the pretty redhead named Juliette, slinging half-caf double whipped soy milk lattes behind the counter when she wasn’t working on her homework for vet school, who had been around for three years now and had a deep and meaningful relationship with his espresso machine that even he considered sacrosanct. Then there was the morning man, Wu, who was snarky and insulted all of the customers, yet also knew exactly how much a dozen glazed doughnuts, two chocolate eclairs, three small coffees—one with extra cream and sugar—and a croquembouche cost without glancing at the pricing once.
It was just them: Monroe the Baker, Juliette the Barista, and Wu the Cashier against the Starbucks across the street trying to steal his business with their undercooked pastries and overpriced coffees.
And really? He was okay with that. It was like a really boring comic book, but Monroe liked boring. He liked routine and simplicity and everything that one Nick Burkhardt was not.
Nick Burkhardt had wandered into his store one morning, leather jacket tossed over a long-sleeve t-shirt, and ordered a large coffee with fake cream--Philistine, Monroe thought, rolling his eyes--and a dozen red velvet cupcakes.
The cafe went quiet.
"I'm sorry?" Monroe said, a dangerous growl in his voice that anyone else knew meant do not go there but apparently sailed over Nick's head and continued into the Columbia River, straight on into the Pacific.
He blinked, confused, gave a little smile and repeated, "A dozen red velvet cupcakes?"
Monroe stared at him for a moment, unwrapped his, "Are you the cook? No? Then shut up!" apron, and turned to face Juliette, whose face was caught somewhere between wanting to laugh out loud and take pity on the poor soul who didn't know any better.
"Explain to him the mortal sin he has committed," he said, jerking a finger toward the hapless Nick and making his way into the kitchen. The smell of pastries baking into light, fluffy bursts of mint and lemon and berry wafted to him and clung to his clothes. There were smudges of flour on the counters, a bag of opened sugar tucked into a corner, and a pile of dirty dishes to be washed in the sink. Through the swinging door, he could hear Juliette's sympathetic voice explaining the situation to Nick.
As Monroe rolled up his sleeves and dunked the dishes into nearly scalding water, he growled to himself. If bakers could have an arch enemy--and they could, Monroe knew, they totally could--red velvet cupcakes would be his. Of all the myriad cookies, cakes, pies, and exotic pastries he served up every day, with twists of lemon on this one and sprinkling of powdered sugar on that one, each and every one of them were delicious. They were sheer perfection. He could bake anything, because he was a Baking God.
Except for red velvet cupcakes.
It didn't matter the recipe, the time he put into it, the ways he modified it here and there, they always turned out as dry as sand and as flavorless, or a soggy mess in the middle and burnt on the outsides.
Most of the regulars made the mistake only once and no one ever asked for them again.
Until this guy.
The guy with the stupid hair and the stupid eyes and the stupid muscles and the stupid, stupid way he had asked for red velvet cupcakes.
Dammit.
Juliette poked her head in and glanced around. "Have you gotten over your tantrum yet?" she asked.
Monroe waved her in with a soapy hand and resisted the urge to scratch his nose, which miraculously always decided to start itching whenever he started washing dishes. Juliette smiled at him and walked over, scritching his nose for him without even asking.
"I don't throw tantrums," he sulked. "Also, you're amazing," he told her honestly as she managed to scratch just the right spot.
"All part of the service," she chirped cheerfully, swinging herself up onto one of the counters. "I got rid of him for you."
"Double amazing. Do I pay you enough?"
"No, but I don't take it personally. You couldn't afford what I'm really worth."
This was, in all probability, very true.
She was looking at him speculatively. "So... that guy."
"Yes?" he growled.
"Veeeery cute," she said grinning. It had taken her approximately two minutes of working with him to figure out he was as gay as a Judy Garland song, another minute to discover he was single, and about 3.1415926535 seconds after that for her matchmaking instincts to kick in.
He pointed a finger at her, which was not very intimidating as a lone bubble flew off the tip and popped mid-air. "Don't even think about it, yenta."
"I'm just saying!" She held up her hands in front of her, but the sly grin was stuck in place.
Wu shoved his head into the door and wrinkled his nose. "Your buns are burning," he said deadpan to Monroe, who cursed and dug out some oven-mitts to pull them out. Wu turned his attention to Juliette. "And your not-so-secret admirer is here."
She rolled her eyes. "I'll be out in a minute."
Monroe looked up from the pan, eyes alarmed. "Is that guy still bothering you? Do I need to go chase him off?"
"Take it easy, dad," she said playfully, swinging herself from the counter gracefully. "I got this one."
Despite his grumbling and general grouchiness for his employees, he felt a weird protectiveness for them. They were hard workers, even if they did bitch and complain when he put them on sweeping and wiping down the tables duty, and Juliette especially attracted customers from miles around who ogled her and generally made Monroe's hand itch for the broom to shoo them away from her.
That said, Juliette was more than capable of handling them herself.
He peeked his head out and watched her turn her mega-watt smile on the latest Romeo-to-be, a small man with dark hair and a smarmy smile that looked like it sold snake oil for a living. His name was Buddy, or Billy, or something similar, Monroe remembered. He watched Juliette give a peppy, "Hi, what can I get for you today?" to the man.
He leaned on the counter with one elbow. "How about your phone number, gorgeous?"
"Ooh, I'm afraid we don't have that," Juliette replied, smile still firmly in place.
"I'd settle for a date."
Juliette widened her eyes. "Fresh out of that, too! Have you tried the gentleman's club downtown? They might have something you can afford."
Monroe stifled his laughter in his apron.
Buddy/Billy looked affronted and muttered, "Just give me a latte, please, with soy milk. I'm very lactose intolerant."
"Coming right up," Juliette said cheerfully, and Monroe pretended not to notice when she added regular milk and handed it to the guy. "Have a nice day!"
She waited until he was almost gone before shouting loudly, "And good luck finding a date!"
"Well done," Wu gave a slow clap. Juliette curtsied.
"Thank you. That man gives me the creeps." She shuddered. "He's not half as charming as he thinks he is."
"They never are," Monroe said mournfully. Juliette's smile melted and her eyes got warm and soft. Monroe held up his hands. "No. No. Don't even think it."
He paused, seeing both Juliette and Wu staring at him speculatively. Great. Just what he needed, his employees to join the "Get Monroe Laid Union". Colleagues in cahoots is not what he wanted in his bakery, thank you very much.
"Get back to work!"
Chapter Two: Employees Prefer Eclairs
Chapter Three: Lovers Prefer Lemon Tarts
Author:
tripatchRating: PG
Pairing: Monroe/Nick
Summary: Bakery!AU. Monroe runs a bakery, Nick is clueless.
Notes: If anyone has a more clever name for the bakery, feel free to suggest it!
Monroe didn't know every customer who wandered into the Full Moon Cafe. It was a popular place, from locals who knew about his gourmet coffee that was always just the right temperature to the tourists who read about it in the most recent, "Explore Portland!" brochure.
He recognized a few faces, however—mostly the regulars who walked in yawning or tapping on their cell phones, but always managed to give him a smile as he handed them their order. It was soothing, comforting. There was something therapeutic about putting in a new batch of muffins, brewing the coffee that permeated the entire room and made his nose twitch, mixing the batter together for the slices of cranberry cake, and repeating the entire process all over again in an hour.
The shop wasn’t large enough to afford too many employees and yes, okay, Monroe had some control issues but after the last college student who had begged him for a job managed to set his muffins on fire, he didn’t think it was wrong to be a little protective. Among the employees he had kept, there was the pretty redhead named Juliette, slinging half-caf double whipped soy milk lattes behind the counter when she wasn’t working on her homework for vet school, who had been around for three years now and had a deep and meaningful relationship with his espresso machine that even he considered sacrosanct. Then there was the morning man, Wu, who was snarky and insulted all of the customers, yet also knew exactly how much a dozen glazed doughnuts, two chocolate eclairs, three small coffees—one with extra cream and sugar—and a croquembouche cost without glancing at the pricing once.
It was just them: Monroe the Baker, Juliette the Barista, and Wu the Cashier against the Starbucks across the street trying to steal his business with their undercooked pastries and overpriced coffees.
And really? He was okay with that. It was like a really boring comic book, but Monroe liked boring. He liked routine and simplicity and everything that one Nick Burkhardt was not.
Nick Burkhardt had wandered into his store one morning, leather jacket tossed over a long-sleeve t-shirt, and ordered a large coffee with fake cream--Philistine, Monroe thought, rolling his eyes--and a dozen red velvet cupcakes.
The cafe went quiet.
"I'm sorry?" Monroe said, a dangerous growl in his voice that anyone else knew meant do not go there but apparently sailed over Nick's head and continued into the Columbia River, straight on into the Pacific.
He blinked, confused, gave a little smile and repeated, "A dozen red velvet cupcakes?"
Monroe stared at him for a moment, unwrapped his, "Are you the cook? No? Then shut up!" apron, and turned to face Juliette, whose face was caught somewhere between wanting to laugh out loud and take pity on the poor soul who didn't know any better.
"Explain to him the mortal sin he has committed," he said, jerking a finger toward the hapless Nick and making his way into the kitchen. The smell of pastries baking into light, fluffy bursts of mint and lemon and berry wafted to him and clung to his clothes. There were smudges of flour on the counters, a bag of opened sugar tucked into a corner, and a pile of dirty dishes to be washed in the sink. Through the swinging door, he could hear Juliette's sympathetic voice explaining the situation to Nick.
As Monroe rolled up his sleeves and dunked the dishes into nearly scalding water, he growled to himself. If bakers could have an arch enemy--and they could, Monroe knew, they totally could--red velvet cupcakes would be his. Of all the myriad cookies, cakes, pies, and exotic pastries he served up every day, with twists of lemon on this one and sprinkling of powdered sugar on that one, each and every one of them were delicious. They were sheer perfection. He could bake anything, because he was a Baking God.
Except for red velvet cupcakes.
It didn't matter the recipe, the time he put into it, the ways he modified it here and there, they always turned out as dry as sand and as flavorless, or a soggy mess in the middle and burnt on the outsides.
Most of the regulars made the mistake only once and no one ever asked for them again.
Until this guy.
The guy with the stupid hair and the stupid eyes and the stupid muscles and the stupid, stupid way he had asked for red velvet cupcakes.
Dammit.
Juliette poked her head in and glanced around. "Have you gotten over your tantrum yet?" she asked.
Monroe waved her in with a soapy hand and resisted the urge to scratch his nose, which miraculously always decided to start itching whenever he started washing dishes. Juliette smiled at him and walked over, scritching his nose for him without even asking.
"I don't throw tantrums," he sulked. "Also, you're amazing," he told her honestly as she managed to scratch just the right spot.
"All part of the service," she chirped cheerfully, swinging herself up onto one of the counters. "I got rid of him for you."
"Double amazing. Do I pay you enough?"
"No, but I don't take it personally. You couldn't afford what I'm really worth."
This was, in all probability, very true.
She was looking at him speculatively. "So... that guy."
"Yes?" he growled.
"Veeeery cute," she said grinning. It had taken her approximately two minutes of working with him to figure out he was as gay as a Judy Garland song, another minute to discover he was single, and about 3.1415926535 seconds after that for her matchmaking instincts to kick in.
He pointed a finger at her, which was not very intimidating as a lone bubble flew off the tip and popped mid-air. "Don't even think about it, yenta."
"I'm just saying!" She held up her hands in front of her, but the sly grin was stuck in place.
Wu shoved his head into the door and wrinkled his nose. "Your buns are burning," he said deadpan to Monroe, who cursed and dug out some oven-mitts to pull them out. Wu turned his attention to Juliette. "And your not-so-secret admirer is here."
She rolled her eyes. "I'll be out in a minute."
Monroe looked up from the pan, eyes alarmed. "Is that guy still bothering you? Do I need to go chase him off?"
"Take it easy, dad," she said playfully, swinging herself from the counter gracefully. "I got this one."
Despite his grumbling and general grouchiness for his employees, he felt a weird protectiveness for them. They were hard workers, even if they did bitch and complain when he put them on sweeping and wiping down the tables duty, and Juliette especially attracted customers from miles around who ogled her and generally made Monroe's hand itch for the broom to shoo them away from her.
That said, Juliette was more than capable of handling them herself.
He peeked his head out and watched her turn her mega-watt smile on the latest Romeo-to-be, a small man with dark hair and a smarmy smile that looked like it sold snake oil for a living. His name was Buddy, or Billy, or something similar, Monroe remembered. He watched Juliette give a peppy, "Hi, what can I get for you today?" to the man.
He leaned on the counter with one elbow. "How about your phone number, gorgeous?"
"Ooh, I'm afraid we don't have that," Juliette replied, smile still firmly in place.
"I'd settle for a date."
Juliette widened her eyes. "Fresh out of that, too! Have you tried the gentleman's club downtown? They might have something you can afford."
Monroe stifled his laughter in his apron.
Buddy/Billy looked affronted and muttered, "Just give me a latte, please, with soy milk. I'm very lactose intolerant."
"Coming right up," Juliette said cheerfully, and Monroe pretended not to notice when she added regular milk and handed it to the guy. "Have a nice day!"
She waited until he was almost gone before shouting loudly, "And good luck finding a date!"
"Well done," Wu gave a slow clap. Juliette curtsied.
"Thank you. That man gives me the creeps." She shuddered. "He's not half as charming as he thinks he is."
"They never are," Monroe said mournfully. Juliette's smile melted and her eyes got warm and soft. Monroe held up his hands. "No. No. Don't even think it."
He paused, seeing both Juliette and Wu staring at him speculatively. Great. Just what he needed, his employees to join the "Get Monroe Laid Union". Colleagues in cahoots is not what he wanted in his bakery, thank you very much.
"Get back to work!"
Chapter Two: Employees Prefer Eclairs
Chapter Three: Lovers Prefer Lemon Tarts
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Date: 2011-12-08 03:46 am (UTC)