cobra starship / gym class heroes / the academy is, 2007
mocha italian con panna antigua
gabe, travis / william, 1833 words

-- no one understands me quite like you do through all of the shadowy corners of me; i never knew just what it was about this old coffee shop i love so much, all of the while i never knew, i never knew just what it was.

"I'll have a non-fat venti soy vanilla latte, please and thank you," Travis recites, his usual order at the usual Starbucks, nods twice and makes room for Gabe at the counter.

"The Guatemala casi cielo, venti, por favor." Gabe rolls his tongue on the r's, flashes teeth at the barista he's already taken back to his apartment at least twice and gives William a glance. "You ready buddy?"

"Yeah, yeah," Bill says, "today I'll have a grande, cinnamon dolce, but none of that sugar-free non-fat stuff okay, and load me up on cinnamon, like three shots, and some extra brown sugar." Travis nods, starts rifling through his pockets for money (it's his turn to pay) but Bill continues. "And I'll have two chocolate brownies, a slice of that cheese cake and a chicken caesar wrap if you got one left, Gloria."

Gloria or glorious, as Gabe's been calling her, smirks in a particularly fond way and nods, adds up the total and hands Travis his change before Gabe can even register everything that William's just ordered.

"What?" Bill says, eyeing the cheesecake like a kid in a candy store on christmas, "I have a sweet tooth."

"Whatever," Gabe says, scooting down to the sugar station, grabbing two packets to hand over to William, and picking up the shaker of vanilla for Travis. "I still think I make a valid point."

"Uh no," Travie chuckles, passing Gabe his drink, taking off the lid of his own to dump copious amounts of vanilla inside. "You make a stupid point, that I still don't understand."

"It's just," Gabe sighs, looking defeated. "We can't be tall. We can't just be tall. Ryan Ross, that kid is tall and he's like four feet shorter than us."

William doesn't have much to contribute to the conversation, but then he doesn't fully understand all of Gabe's thought processes; Gabe will of course, chat them up about this particular theory (or rant or rambling, whatever) and maybe after a few hours, Bill will have something intelligent to say. For now, he empties three packets of sugar into his latte and goes over Gabe's words again in his mind.

William thinks, the way Gabe says Ryan Ross is pretty funny, with emphasis on the aw in Ross, and careful delivery of the double s's.

Travis shrugs, sinks into his usual blue coloured armchair and stretches his feet out.

"We can't just be tall," Gabe repeats, more to himself than anything.

-

Gabe says, "Do you ever sample the coffee?" He shifts, stretches his arms out and pulls the covers halfway over his chest. "I mean, do you ever like, make yourself an iced caramel joya del dia macchiato topped with whipped cream and chocolate?"

Glorious (Gloria) laughs, half shrugs and lets Gabe wrap his arms around her. They don't do this often, but when they do, they usually talk about the coffee after, like it's dirty talk for round two (or three or four).

"Not really," she admits. "Sometimes I'll try the costa rica tarrazu, it kind of reminds me of you."

He's not surprised, but not overly enthusiastic about the fact either. He wouldn't want to lose his relationship with his favourite Starbucks if his relationship with his favourite barista went south, for whatever reason.

He likes the way she butchers words like tarrazu, the way she puts too much stress on the first syllable and completely ignores the soft sound a z is meant to make.

"It reminds me of home," Gabe yawns, his last few words stretched and sounding like echoes in his ears. It's been a long day and he's not sure he can make it through round five.

Gloria reminds him of Ashlee Simpson, in a way that probably shouldn't turn him on as much as it does, Ashlee being Pete's girlfriend and all. She is all blond hair and big eyes, curious and excited all the time, the way Ashlee was on Honda Civic, bouncing around backstage and bugging him for piggy back rides.

But that's a whole other story, one that has nothing to do with frappucinos and everything to do with too much vodka and redbull and an empty bus at three in the morning.

"Do you think I'm tall?" Gabe asks, his eyes closing against his will. "Do you think I'm just tall?"

Gloria must think he's crazy, but she blinks a few times, eyelashes on the bare skin of his chest, and breathes hot and steady. "I think you're more than tall. I think you're probably a venti on the Starbucks scale."

-

It's seven in the morning when he wakes up, hits the first name on his speed dial (he could have hit the second name instead but the call would end up in the same place) and practically giggles into the phone. "Travie, Travie, I figured it out."

"Youfiguredwhatout?" William slurs, his voice barely a whisper. Beside him, Travis tries to swat at him to go back to sleep, but Gabe is practically yelling on the phone now.

"Wake up, sleepyheads, and get dressed, I'm coming over!" Gabe hangs up and William drops the phone onto the floor, doesn't bother to relay the message. He just rolls over and ignores the bright light making its way into the room through thin curtains, rests his head on Travie's chest and sighs something between a whimper and a yawn.

-

"Wake up, stupids."

Travis opens an eye but closes it a split second later, justifying the act in his head by telling himself that a Gabe-less morning is a good morning and maybe if he shuts his eyes again, Gabe will go away.

But he doesn't.

He plops down, tries to get into the two inches between them and fails, ends up half on William's chest and half on Travis's legs realizing that-- "You're both naked, aren't you?"

Bill laughs, nods sleepily and pulls the covers up higher like it matters, even though it doesn't since Gabe has seen them both naked on too many occasions to count.

(He's seen William four times, Travis three and seen them together two times and a half because warped tour didn't really count.

And he's seen the sex tape, but that's also another story.)

Travis scoots over so Gabe can lay down between them, justifying the act in his head by telling himself that it's better than Gabe getting under the sheets, which he's done too many times to count.

(Once and a half, because warped tour didn't really count.)

William snuggles into Gabe's shoulder, still half asleep and unable to tell one shoulder from another.

"Do you have somethin to tell us, or are you just gonna invade our space all day?" Travis lets his eyes close, trying to block out Gabe and the sun and failing, that red glow still shining bright against his eyelids, Gabe still shifting awkwardly beside him, elbow in his side and his legs getting in the way of much needed space.

"We're perfect for each other," Gabe says, suddenly.

Muffled against his side, William grins, "We're not having a threesome, stop bringing it up."

"This isn't about that!" Gabe groans, throwing his hands up in frustration. William half rolls off the bed and Travis just winces as Gabe's bony wrist knocks against his ribs. "But we'll talk about that later."

He gets out of bed and sighs, finding bits of clothing on the floor and throwing it at their heads. "Get dressed and get up, I got you lattes."

Travis keeps William in bed for an extra four minutes and thirty two seconds, justifying the act in his head by telling himself that Gabe is busy pouring copious amounts of sugar in Bill's drink and vanilla in his and he won't notice.

-

William sips a lukewarm skinny cinnamon dolce (because Gabe says he needs to lay off on the sugar for his love handles' sake), standing beside Travis and his non-fat soy vanilla latte.

Gabe holds his Colombia narina supremo like he holds his gold microphone, like he's about to sing some cheesy love song to them. He says, "It's simple," but it really isn't.

"William," he starts, "you have in your hand a grande, a grande, and we have ventis. It's why we're so perfect for each other, why you guys are so fucking in love it kills, it's amazing to see you together. It's why you're my best friends in the whole world and I'd kill for you, seriously, I'd die for you." He looks kind of crazed, in a Gabe sort of way. "We're like starbucks," he shrugs, "everyone else is dunkin donuts."

Travis still doesn't get it.

William's still asleep.

Travis says, "I still don't get it, Gabe."

William says, "I'm still asleep."

"We're not just tall," Gabe smirks, practically breathing his coffee in and only sort of thinking about Gloria and how she looked when he left in the morning, a note on her bedside table that reads:

try the ipanema bourbon, i'll be back for breakfast

gabe.


--