The Coup D'é-Tea was no longer. Somehow, at some point, the fight against the fruit transformed into an alliance. For the first time in beverage history, coffee and smoothies had joined together to combat their common enemies: unreasonable customers and closed-minded ex-girlfriends. Sure, Cora still despised the singing citrus, but if enduring spirited anthems and peppy battle cries was what it took for justice to prevail, then so be it.

Of course, she wouldn't mind if the fruit could be silenced once and for all.

"Wait, Angie?" After Farron waited a beat for Cora to retract her confession, they chuckled. "Is that why you hate Fruitastic so much? Because of a cartoon mascot? She's harmless."

As if on cue, the dancing orange kicked off another round of Fruitastic's jingle, and the upbeat notes taunted Cora's nerves. But after the visit from Farron's ex the day before, Cora supposed she preferred the annoying Angie over nasty Natalie.

"Tell that to my ears," Cora muttered, scowling at her rice porridge. "And it's not just her. It's—"

Your ability to hate your job while excelling at it, and how you look good doing it.

"We're clearly rivals," Cora said instead, stirring her porridge a little more vigorously than necessary. "Every customer that goes to you is one less customer for us. There's only so much liquid a person can consume during a single mall trip."

Farron raised their eyebrows. "First, don't think you can hide from me, coffee cake. I've seen you nodding along to our music on multiple occasions. I bet you have all of Angie's dance moves memorized too. Second, you really are obsessed with Cool Beans, aren't you? Management must love you."

Cora scoffed, possibly a little too bitterly, and she focused even harder on her porridge instead of the thought of Farron watching her. "Hardly. And can you really call me obsessed? You were competing with me too."

"Yeah, but not because I love my job, or whatever your reasoning is. It was just something to break the monotony—and your fake customer service personality."

Cora glared at Farron, but there wasn't much heat behind it. "I'll have you know that my personality is entirely genuine."

Farron smirked, but it didn't seem as strong as before, especially when it sat under their sunken, bloodshot eyes. "Whatever you say, coffee cake. Anyway, it was fun competing with you. Plus, I kind of liked having a cute girl stare at me all day."

Cora's mouth opened for a retort that never came, then closed so she could clear her throat. It was a few more seconds before she finally found her voice, along with words to go with it. "That's...that was... I wasn't staring."

As embarrassed as she was, Cora didn't mind her temporary discomfort at the sight of Farron's smile widening.

"Oh, really?" Farron rested their tattooed arm next to their instant noodles and propped up their chin. "Are you saying you didn't like what you saw?"

"I mean..." Cora's eyes darted towards Fruitastic's storefront. While the bright orange and green theme was blinding, the alternative view was Farron's toned bicep. "There...there are other things in the store too, you know."

"So there was another reason you would look at Fruitastic for extended periods of time?"

Cora's heart jumped in the middle of its racing. Had she been that obvious? "Of course. I was...surveying the enemy."

Farron hummed thoughtfully. "And since I was the enemy, is that just a fancy way of saying you were checking me out?"

"No!" Cora spun back towards Farron, as if facing them would prove her innocence. "Not that you're ugly or anything. Not at all. I mean—"

As soon as Cora noticed Farron's widening smile, she clamped her mouth shut. A beat later, she opened it just enough to shove some porridge into it.

"Alright, keep your secrets," Farron said, finally lifting their chin from their hand and returning their toned, tattooed arm to their side. "Just don't choke on your jook. That would be a terrible way to go."

Cora frowned, though she couldn't ignore how her heart ached at the sound of the familiar word. "What's wrong with that? At least it tastes good."

Farron raised their eyebrows. "The only flavor you have in there is soy sauce. Don't you want to change things up a bit every now and then? And not by switching it out with a tuna salad sandwich."

"Like I'm the only one that eats the same thing every day," Cora said, glancing pointedly at Farron's half-eaten instant noodles.

As annoyed as Cora acted, she was relieved to see more than the default ingredients in Farron's lunch that day, and the smell of tangy chili garlic oil was more comforting than Cora expected it to be.

Farron shrugged. "Point taken. But what can I say? They're cheap and quick, and I don't have time for much else. At least I spice it up a bit, though." They paused, their eyes drifting down to Cora's lunch. "Sorry, I probably shouldn't judge. As long as you enjoy your food, that's what counts, right?"

Cora's gaze followed. They were right. As long as Cora enjoyed her food, it shouldn't matter how it tasted to anyone else. There was just one problem: she didn't enjoy it.

"I...may be on a tight budget," Cora muttered towards her porridge. "I just... I still want to eat healthy, but I'm also not a great cook. This is one of the few things I know how to make."

And yet, she still couldn't make it like how she remembered.

For a moment, they were both quiet. Cora focused on stirring her porridge, too nervous to see what Farron's reaction would be to her confession. While Cora had been sure that Farron wouldn't make fun of her situation, sure enough to admit it in the first place, she wasn't certain about anything else.

Eventually, the sound of crinkling paper mixing in with the chatter of the food court was enough to make Cora lift her gaze. Across the table, Farron was folding the lid of their instant noodles, first in half and then in quarters. When they squeezed the sides, the paper popped into a cone-like shape.

"You could use some flavor in your life," Farron said as they scooped some of their noodles into the makeshift dish. "You said you're not allergic to anything, right? Well, except for bees."

Cora couldn't help but smile at the memory of their bus stop conversation from the previous week. "That's it."

Farron held out the cone of noodles. "Try this." Then, before Cora could refuse, "And you don't have to turn it down to be polite. I still have more than enough, along with two more free drinks during my shift. Which, I recently heard from Kevin, isn't something you Cool Beans get."

"You talked to Kevin?"

"Are you changing the subject?"

Guilty as charged, Cora quickly accepted the offering with a quiet thanks.

"We've spoken occasionally," Farron continued as they stirred their remaining noodles. "He likes my motorcycle, I think. He saw me with it one day and yelled 'bike cool' before whimpering and running away."

Cora chuckled as she looked at the noodles in her hands, her chest warming with her fingers. "That sounds about right."

"I saw him outside with his lunch—or what was left of it, I guess. He apparently dropped it when the resident crows got too close, so I gave him one of our smoothie bowls. That's when he told me that you Cool Beans aren't as lucky with your employee benefits. Anyway, no more stalling." They nodded at the untouched food in Cora's hands. "What do you think?"

What Cora thought was that the smell alone made her stomach growl. The warm scent of chili and garlic was stronger than ever, and she admired the way the remnants of broth glistened against the noodles. Amidst the fresh vegetable toppings, a bit of pork peeked through, and imagining the taste of it was the only thing that kept Cora from returning the valuable sliver.

Before she knew it, she was shoveling the noodles into her mouth, and with one bite, it was like her dreams had come true. It tasted extravagant, as if it included the finest ingredients money could buy. It tasted familiar, like it held flavors of her past.

It tasted warm, as if it was made by someone who cared.

"It's not bad, right?" Farron grinned, likely having no problem reading whatever expression Cora wore. "I can whip up something for you too, if you're interested."

As much as she didn't want the bite to end, Cora gulped down her food as quickly as she could. "You don't have to. That sounds like a lot of work. And you said you're busy, right?"

Farron shrugged. "It's no trouble if I'm making the same thing for myself. If anything, I'd just need a key ingredient."

Cora was nodding before she realized it. She didn't even know if she had the mystery supplies Farron needed, or how much they would cost if she didn't. "Like what?"

With a wide smile, Farron leaned across the table. "How much of that jook do you have left?"

***

The next day, Cora glanced around the crowded food court while clutching two mismatched lunch containers, moving her fingers around to keep the heat of the glass from seeping into her skin. As much as she worried that her rice porridge wasn't going to be good enough for whatever Farron was planning, she couldn't back out now. Farron's own meal depended on her, and Cora couldn't let them down—or starve, for that matter.

"Looking for someone?" Farron's husky voice whispered from Cora's side.

Cora barely managed to keep from jumping, but only because she recognized the scent of Farron's vanilla shampoo a moment before.

"Just a table," Cora lied, then realized there were at least five open spots in their vicinity. "Or the best table."

Farron chuckled. "Mind if I decide then? This will be best while hot."

With no more reasons to stall, Cora nodded and followed their lead.

Once seated, Farron set a plastic, opaque whipped cream container on the table, then a smaller clear one on top of it. While the latter was filled with a dark brown sauce, the contents of the former were a mystery, but Cora couldn't help but wonder...

"Are you skeptical about what I brought?" Farron grinned when Cora met their gaze. "Don't worry, it's just the container. Unless...you wanted dessert? Rice porridge with a dollop of whipped cream?"

Cora actually had been thinking if rice porridge and whipped cream could make a decent and cheap dessert, maybe like rice pudding. But she couldn't tell Farron that.

"You can try it, if you want," Cora muttered towards the table, hoping her embarrassment wasn't visible.

"I'd be down, but maybe next time. Did you bring the goods?"

The phrasing was so unexpected that Cora couldn't hold back a soft laugh. "It's not a black market deal."

Farron shrugged with a slight smirk. "We could pretend like it is, add some excitement to our lunch breaks. An illicit exchange between enemies of the food court. So scandalous! Whatever would our families think?"

Cora forced herself to grin along before turning to her lunch containers. "I hope I heated these up enough. Our microwave isn't that good."

"Cool Beans is really living up to the 'cool' part, huh?" Farron chuckled as they accepted the containers Cora slid across the table. "Don't worry, I'm sure it's perfect."

With that, Farron began to work their magic.

First, they opened the smaller container, then gave the contents a quick stir with a neon green Fruitastic spoon. When they drizzled the concoction over one of the rice porridges, Cora spotted bits of sesame seeds and other ingredients in the mix.

"Soy sauce, hao you, and sesame oil with sesame seeds, garlic, and ginger," Farron said, setting aside the small container. "I didn't put too much, just in case you don't care for it, but you can add more later. And if you don't like it at all, you can have the one without."

"I'm sure I'll love it," Cora said, her stomach already growling from the scent of the sauce alone.

Farron grinned as they opened the mysterious whipped cream container, revealing an assortment of greens and other ingredients.

"It's Build Your Own Jook," they said, tilting the container towards Cora. "Anything in here you don't like?"

Cora blinked at the stuffed container, her eyes darting between the various options. "No." Then, after careful consideration, "Well...maybe not too many mushrooms."

"Sure thing," Farron said, beginning to pick out ingredients with their spoon. "I imagine there won't be much room for mushrooms anyway."

Cora laughed. "You were waiting to make that joke, weren't you?"

"It's the only reason I packed mushrooms."

Comedic prompt or not, Farron may have had a point. With the amount of bok choy, green onions, chicken, and cilantro they used, Cora could barely see the rice porridge beneath it, much less room to fit anything else. But somehow, Farron managed, placing a few slices of mushrooms atop the bok choy.

"Too many?" Farron asked, meeting Cora's gaze.

Only then did Cora realize she had been leaning slightly over the table, staring.

"N-no, that's perfect!" Cora said as she bolted upright, ignoring the slight squeak in her voice. "It's just... Are you sure this is okay? All of that must've cost...a lot."

"It's no problem, really," Farron said, rotating the dish around as if evaluating their work. "I grew the green onions and cilantro, and I had to use the bok choy up anyway. The chicken was actually from my parents. They always get that whole rotisserie chicken from the store, even when they know they can't finish it. I think they just want an excuse to give me the leftovers. They probably think I'm starving or something."

Cora chuckled, hoping Farron wouldn't question how stiff it sounded. "Right. Parents."

When Farron glanced at her, Cora braced herself for the inevitable, mentally chiding herself for not forcing a little more enthusiasm into her reaction. Thankfully, Farron turned back to the food, then slid it across the table.

"Try that," they said, leaning back in their chair.

Cora swallowed the lump in her throat. "Thanks. It looks amazing."

"Let's just hope it tastes that way too."

Cora figured anything would taste better than the bland rice porridge with soy sauce that she had grown accustomed to. At the very least, she expected it to be more filling, given that she had trouble stirring in the pile of toppings without making a mess.

What she hadn't expected was for the dish to fill more than just her stomach. With a single spoonful, the familiarity flooded her with a wave of nostalgia, breaking down the door to her memories.

She would smell the scent as soon as she returned home from school, eager to show off her perfect score on a pop quiz. One of her parents would be at the stove, and the array of ingredients before her was akin to what they would stir around an old wok with a well-worn wooden spatula. Cora would always have to wait until dinner for a taste, though—she couldn't ruin her appetite, apparently. But when mealtime finally rolled around, the boisterous conversations around the dinner table matched the chatter of the food court, all sounds vying for a chance to be heard.

And then there was the taste. The magical blend of ingredients was reminiscent of something her parents would have made themselves. For years, she had tried to replicate the flavor, only to give up after her failures and settle for the memories. There was only so much time and money she could afford to waste for a chance to relive the past.

But Farron had succeeded where Cora could not. With a single attempt, Farron knew what to add to complete the key to Cora's memories.

It was exactly what she had been missing.

The food in front of her began to blur, and Cora did her best to blink the tears away. But the more she tried, the more she failed.

"Sorry," she mumbled towards the table, then sniffed at the sound of the croak in her voice. "It's...it's spicy."

They both knew it was a lie, but Cora couldn't admit she was crying over food...could she? Farron probably thought she was pathetic enough for being nearly thirty, making just barely over minimum wage, and still not knowing how to cook. Cora shedding tears over her lunch probably fit their expectations of her perfectly.

"Cora," Farron whispered, their husky voice soothing Cora's worries.

Cora carefully lifted her tearful eyes to find Farron's soft gaze staring back at her. They smiled, and the expression wasn't mocking or condescending like Cora had feared. In fact, there didn't seem to be any judgment at all. The only feeling it carried was warmth.

Cora would look at it every day if she could.

"It's okay," Farron whispered, and even though their voice was soft, it carried well over the laughs and shouts around them.

As that sound alone continued to echo in Cora's ears, she began to wonder: maybe they were right. Maybe everything was okay.

"Thank you," she whispered, but she wasn't sure Farron could hear her over the noise around them. When she tried to smile, to show how grateful she was, she felt her expression waver under her flood of emotions.

But when Farron's smile widened instead, Cora knew her feelings were heard loud and clear.

"Any time."