Les Misérables A Plain Black Coffee

**A/N- **Okay, so here's the second installment of Welcome to Starbucks. This episode: Les Mis. I want to take this moment to remind everyone that I do not own Les Mis or its characters, and only the plot is mine. Once again, this series was based on a tumblr post (link in my profile). Beta'd by randomostrichchocolates on AO3. Enjoy!

**A Plain Black Coffee**

Enjolras had gone his entire life without stepping foot into a Starbucks, and he planned to keep it that way. Part of the reason was that he'd much rather support small businesses than large corporate conglomerates. The other reason… well, that was his soulmark. The words "**Welcome to Starbucks, may I take your order**" looped around his wrist in a lazy scrawl. He didn't really believe in the idea of soulmates, though he had nothing against people who bought into the concept. The idea that the universe decided which person was your best match didn't sit well with him, even when he first got his mark as a child, so he did his best to keep his mark covered, either with his sleeve or with a black leather studded armband. But try as he might, he couldn't avoid the pitying looks he'd often get from the people who did manage to catch a glimpse of his wrist, because while it wasn't the worst soulmark to have (One of his classmates had had a string of swearwords on the back of his neck) there were thousands of people with the same mark, and almost as many people working at Starbucks.

His friends hadn't thought too much of it when they saw. Boussuet, who had the words "**Hey**" and "**Hello**" printed on either bicep shrugged, and told him it could be worse. Jehan of course had sighed and said that meeting his soulmate in a coffee shop was incredibly romantic. He had "**I would do anything to see you smile**" in a shy slanted script under his collar bone though, so he kind of had everyone beat for most romantic mark. Courf and Ferre were sympathetic, but they seemed to find the whole situation amusing, while Feuilly had just rolled his eyes and wished him luck. Most of the time, Enjolras put the words out of his mind and went about "trying to save the world" as Courf put it. He worked on campaigns to raise awareness of platonic soulmates, created campus support groups for the markless, worked tirelessly against a particularly nasty piece of legislature that cut benefits for the markless or people who chose to marry people other than their soulmates, and generally tried to ignore the dark words inked onto his skin. However, fate, that salty bitch, never likes being ignored.

The cafe Musain was usually Enjolras' first stop in the mornings, because if he had to attend and morning class, he was going to do it pumped full of an unhealthy amount of caffeine. He'd stumbled onto the little cafe during his freshman year, and now, three years later had become friends with most of the staff. The owner, Musichetta, a gorgeous Latina woman with a wicked sense of humor, could make a mean esspresso, and was usually willing to listen to him rant. She had two soulmates, though she'd only found one so far, an amiable, if somewhat nervous med student by the name of Joly. He worked the machines sometimes, constantly sneaking glances at a text book propped against the register. Eponine usually worked the morning shift, so Enjolras had the most interaction with her. Quick witted and sharp tongued, her skill set apparently included mind reading, because she could figure out exactly what Enjorals needed with minimal communication on his part, which was fine by him. He doubted he was coherent before nine anyway. She'd usually force a muffin or something on him too, just to make sure he wouldn't skip on breakfast. There were some others as well, a red-headed boy that reminded him strongly of a puppy, and a man who looked more like a bouncer than a barista.

It was during one of his morning coffee runs that all his resolute ignoring and systematic avoidance went out the window. As soon as he entered the shop, he froze, because there was someone new behind the counter, someone who was bent over a piece of paper, as his pencil moved quickly, sketching something Enjolras couldn't quite make out. Somewhere in the back of his sleep deprived mind he remembered Musichetta saying something about a new barista (Her exact words were "We're getting a new guy in E, so be nice". His response of "I'm always nice" was met with a raised eyebrow). The guy wasn't handsome exactly. His nose looked like it had been on the wrong end of a fist at least once. He had a splotch of green paint behind one of his ears and scruffy stubble covered his jaw. He looked as tired as Enjolras felt; But it was something about the way he sketched, every fibre of his being focused on the task, soft smile playing on his face, that pulled Enjolras in.

The mystery barista must have sensed his presence, because he raised his head and caught sight of him, that soft smile melting into a cocksure smirk (which absolutely did not make his belly swoop. Shut up.), a wicked gleam in his eye.

"Welcome to Starbucks, may I take your order?" he drawled sarcastically

Enjolras felt himself tense, several thoughts flitting through his mind, mainly "Shit, fuck this was not supposed to happen." and "Oh no, he's kind of cute" He was acutely aware of Mystery Barista looking at him strangely.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Enjolras will later blame the early hour and the Philosophy essay he had been working on until four AM for the next words out of his mouth.

"You're not Eponine."

It was Mystery Barista's turn to tense. "No fucking way. You've got be kidding me."

Okay that stung a bit. "How do you think I feel? I've been avoiding Starbucks since I was sixteen!"

The other man began to laugh, and Enjolras tried not to be offended. "Listen, can I just get a plain black coffee, It's too early for this."

"Yeah, yeah sorry. I'm Grantaire by the way."

"Enjolras."

There was a tense silence as the coffee machine did it's thing.

"I wasn't laughing at you, you know."

"Alright then."

The machine beeped.

"I'm going to be honest with you Enjolras, I don't like the idea that some greater power decides who our perfect match is. I never really bought into this whole soulmate thing, I mean what if you have no romantic attraction to your soulmate, or what if you're in a happy relationship before you meet your soulmate. And then there's the stigma attached to multiple soulmarks-" he made a bitter face "it just seems more trouble than it's worth... and you probably don't want to hear this from your soulmate." he finished sheepishly as glanced up at Enjolras, who could not take his eyes off of him.

"Um no actually, like I said, I spent a lot of time trying not to meet my soulmate"

Another awkward silence was broken by Grantaire finally handing Enjolras his drink. He pushed the money towards the barista (thank god for exact change) and walked briskly towards the door. He paused for a moment, considering. Soulmates didn't have to be romantic (not that he's be averse to it), and Grantaire seemed nice enough. He turned.

"We could be friends, you know, and technically, it would be our choice if, say, we decided we wanted to date." he called from the door.

Grantaire grinned.

**A/N- **By the way, would anyone be interested in a spin-off series, where the other characters mentioned in this fic (and maybe some others) find their soulmates? It wouldn't be coffee shop related, at least not all of them. And for anyone who read the Merlin one, I plan to write a Lance and Gwen story at some point, so fear not!


End file.

Les Misérables, Humor, Romance