Uptown, Downtown (Chat Noir x Reader) - Book 1

9 | Oh, For Shame

Working at Starbucks was an experience that either left you scarred or with more wisdom; it was debatable, but what was for sure was that it started an unlikely friendship for you. It all began on a typical Thursday afternoon, after school had finished, and you were preparing to go off to the shop, but Alya intercepted you halfway.

“Hey!” she exclaimed in greeting, before chattering so fast in French that you didn’t understand a single word she said.

You just stood there, in complete confusion, unable to cut in or ask her to slow down, for she was just talking non-stop in a very animated manner. In the end, Adrien saw you visibly struggling, and had to intervene, by stepping beside you, and saying apologetically, “Sorry Alya, but I think you’re speaking too fast for (Y/n) to understand,”

“Ah! I’m so sorry, (Y/n)!” Alya sighed, face-palming, before instantly becoming excited again, “I was saying how I totally wanted to interview you for the Ladyblog about what a British person thinks about Paris and its superheroes!”

“I’d… be happy to, I suppose,” you responded, “but it’ll have to be during school. I have work now.”

“Argh! I keep forgetting you have a job!” Alya once again had a moment of intense frustration.

“If you visited and bought some coffee, I’d put extra effort into making your drink,” you chuckled, doing some awkward finger guns.

“I’d love to,” Adrien laughed, then looked away sadly, “but my father would never allow me.”

You grimaced, glancing away, before nudging him playfully, “Well, what’s your favourite drink then? I’ll make one for you at home.”

“You really don’t have to do that,” Adrien mumbled softly, “but thank you so much anyway.”

It hurt to see him so happy by a simple favour.

You could only watch helplessly as he left in his car; drifting away, to a world you didn’t belong in. He and you were too different, how were you friends? You were from two completely different realities, separated by class, attitude and experience.

A miserable sigh escaped you, and you smiled as a goodbye to Alya, before making your way over to Starbucks. Your coworker, a guy named Alec, greeted you cheerfully, and you returned the gesture with less gusto, then went to the back room to put on your apron and hat. The shop wasn’t particularly busy, you only had made two lattes in the past fifteen minutes.

Now, you could only lean on the counter, your thoughts a mess, your mind so full yet so tired at the same time. The only sound echoing throughout the cafe was the noise of the ticking clock up on the wall across from you, and the buzz of the various machines behind you.

Till the door opened, and a shockingly familiar, loud, voice shattered the previously calm silence, “You really expect me to get my frappuccino from a peasant store like this, Sabrina? You must be joking!”

Chloé Bourgeois, daughter of the Mayor of Paris, supposed homewrecker of your class, accompanied by her trusty steed Sabrina.

You turned away, shuffling towards the back room, in preparation to politely request Alec to take this particular customer, but it was too late; Chloé noticed you, a huge, shit-eating smirk crossed her face, and she sashayed over to the counter, Sabrina following her like a lost dog.

Oh fuck this shit.

“Well, well, well, look what we have here,” Chloé sneered, resting both her arms on the table separating you both, which made you take another nervous step backwards. “It’s the little British kid, working in a shop as low quality as this. You’re probably trying to work up some savings, since you’re definitely poor.”

“Yes, I am,” you responded defeatedly, “could I take your order now please?”

“Oh, you are?! Oh, this is too good!” Chloé cackled dramatically, tossing her head back like an evil witch. “Well, just wait till everyone in school hears about this! But, anyways, I want a mocha frappuccino, as fast as possible, and if I don’t get it when I want it, or if it’s not up to my standards, I’ll phone Daddykins and have you kicked out of Paris!”

“I—oh, you know what, fuck this,” you groaned, resorting to your native language, before reluctantly beginning to make the drink she’d ordered.

At first, you just did the usual, but with less care, since you were pissed off by the way she’d talked to you; but then an idea crossed your mind. What if you could prove to her that you could make good drinks? Oh, the look on her face would be priceless when she tasted it, and found it to be the most delicious beverage she’d ever consumed in her life.

You cackled to yourself obnoxiously, as you blended the drink, causing both Chloé and Sabrina to give you a weird glance.

Once you had finished, you handed the drink to Chloé with a flourish, drawling in purposely awful, exaggerated French, “Your drink, madame.”

The girl snorted, snatching the cup from your hand, and inspecting it whilst wrinkling her nose in irritation. “Ugh, it already smells disgusting,” she huffed, holding it at arm's length.

“If you’re too much of a chicken to try it, then I’ll drink the thing for you,” you laughed, holding back a stream of various British curse words.

Chloé paused, sniffing disdainfully, before in a theatrical like performance, tasted the beverage in what was perhaps the most histrionic scene you’d ever had the passing luck to witness. Sabrina watched with wide eyes as her best friend took a single, slight sip of the coffee, and even you leaned forwards in slight anticipation, hands pressed firmly on the counter.

(Damn, Chloé really could hold an audience’s attention.)

The girl smacked her lips, her eyes closed, as she held up a hand; you and Sabrina continued to stare, waiting anxiously for her verdict. When Chloé finally faced you, she held an expression of indifference, as she declared with finality, “It’s not bad.”

You just blinked. Not bad? Did Chloé just not insult you?

“In fact, even though it’s certainly not nearly close to mediocre, I will come here after school for it everyday from now on, because it’s the closest shop,” Chloé stated decisively.

Your jaw dropped, and Sabrina let out a gasp of shock.

“I expect you to be here on time to make me the same drink every day from now on, got it?!” Chloé demanded, pointing an intimidating finger at you.

You raised your hands in surrender, sweating nervously, “As you wish, miss ma’am.”

The blonde surveyed you for a moment more, then slammed the exact amount of cash on the counter for the drink, before flipping her hair, and stalking out of the shop, Sabrina following closely behind her. You just stood there, processing what the fucking hell had just transpired, because now you had to serve Chloé Bougeois a frappucino after school every single day.

“I guess she didn’t want the receipt,” you muttered to yourself, as you took the money off the table, and started putting it into the cashier.

“Who was that?” Alec questioned, returning from the back room. “They sounded demanding.”

You sighed and grinned wryly, “Just know that I’ve earned us two new regulars.”