rodrikstark's headcanons (part 5)

a. pugliese + making you coffee

you learn on your first date with augustus pugliese that he does not, in fact, go by the government-issued name printed across his library card—the name you've read every time he checks out a book, the name you've grown inexplicably fond of. he shortens it to a neat three letters: pug.

it'll take you a while to start calling him that, but it suits him.

and now that you're four dates in, you know a hundred more things about him. he went to NYU. he works in superhuman law. he has a sneaker collection; half his closet is three-piece suits.

and, unfortunately, he really cares about his coffee.

it's what excited him most about moving from a claustrophobic east coast apartment to sunny, spacious los angeles—enough counter space to store an espresso machine, a gooseneck kettle, his favorite french press, and a fat stack of filters.

tonight, he offered to make you something, and luckily he's not pretentious enough to judge you for answering um, whatever. but it does needle at him, how you've barely touched your latte. it's getting cold.

he'll blame it on his nerves. pug hasn't been genuinely interested in anyone he's dated ever since moving out west, and lately he's had to suffer through jen and nikki's relentless teasing. he's probably moving too fast, honestly. inviting you here.

but jesus, he wants you so badly.

"wait," you whisper, one of your soft palms laid over his heart.

he winces. "sorry. i thought..." his hands leave your waist and dig into the plushness of his couch. the untouched drink should have been his sign to back off. "i don't know what i thought."

"no—" you try, and augustus pugliese can't quite hide his disappointment. "i mean, yes—obviously, yes, but—"

god. why does he make you so stupid?

"i just—i don't like coffee." you sigh. "i had to tell you, before..."

you swear: waiting for him to respond shaves a year or two off your life. "but, i asked you out with coffee."

"i know."

"coffee was our second date."

"i know."

his eyes meet yours. "you love coffee."

and when you shake your head, full of remorse, it finally clicks.

and so, his mind starts racing across the apartment. there's chai in the cabinets, along with some regular tea, both green and black. in his pantry, packets of hot chocolate mix he stole from the office. pug starts to stand. "i'll make you something else?"

breathlessly, you laugh. "aren't you gonna kiss me first?"

he falters, a little stunned when you climb into his lap, and your nose touches his cheek. "i probably taste like coffee."

you take his arms and put them around your waist again. tighter this time. "kiss me anyway."