Yes, i do know I’m late for the freeday. But it’s here and that’s what counts. right? Anyways, all I know is that I’ll still be writing lots of Voltron even after klance week is over - I mean, look at this ship! how could I not?!
Word Count: 2813
Summary: Working at Starbucks for over a year was sure to give Keith his fair share of stumbles with peculiar people. However, during his year, he’d never seen anyone as dramatic. And what sort of idiot called - to Keith’s personal number - at two in the morning, asking for coffee. (coffee shop Au.)
Of all things that could have happened, Keith guessed the actual outcome wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Considering how exhausting his day had been, and just how impertinent the customer was, quite a variety of things could have happened. Keith was just glad all he did was serve the wrong drink and misspell the correct name.
Having worked at Starbucks for over a year, Keith had his fair share of embarrassment. Most of the customers, however, never quite reacted this way. While the majority normally smiled tightly and uncomfortably, proclaiming to be alright, a few came with their own fatigue, and were in no mood for that, thus snapping at Keith.
Keith wasn’t really bothered by this; He was normally exasperated of his day - there was no point in holding a grudge against something he would have done himself if in different positions. That would be it and then Keith would move on for the rest of the day, stealing yearning glances at the clock hung far wall as he waited for his freedom.
University work already stole most of his day, and the job only served to shorten it drastically.
This occasion was peculiar, however, and the customer seemed to be adamant on his case.
“I asked for a caramel macchiato with coconut milk and two shots of espresso, but you guys gave me this! That’s not what I want!” Keith could feel his eyebrows twitching in annoyance only from watching this person throw their arms up, flailing as Shiro tried to calm him down.
“And not only that,” He continued, “But you all misspelled my name! It’s Lance, not Lannance!”
“I’m sorry,” Shiro apologized, smiling nervously at all the stares he received from his other visitors. “Just make your order again. We’ll be more attentive towards it and your name, alright?”
“Uh, no,” Lance glared, peering over Shiro’s shoulder onto the barista tasked with composing the drinks. “I request to personally speak to the one who committed this atrocity.”
Despite the number of attempts, it was evident Shiro would not convince this man to leave. With an apologetic cringe, Shiro craned his head back to Keith, chuckling sheepishly.
Keith, having heard the exchange, simply rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath, proceeding to join Shiro at his side.
Waving at his friend as an indication to return to other customers, Keith wiped his hand on the towel in hand, then placed it aside as he leaned on the bar.
“Yes?” He asked, his eyes boring into the other’s.
The young man crossed his arms with a huff.
“Not only did you misspell my name, but you also gave me the wrong drink.”
Keith hummed in half-hearted acknowledge. “And why did you not simply remake the request?”
Lance seemed almost baffled.
“Because,” Lance but hissed. “You misspelled my name.”
Keith was already tired of this. “Yes, and?”