Chapter 1
“Round and round we spin, with feet of lead and wings of tin.”
- Kurt Vonnegut, Cat’s Cradle
Raghnall “Axel” Rays couldn’t decide if it was colder outside or inside. Shivering, he clutched his thin jacket tighter around his body, constantly flicking his eyes from the barista to the French Press that was slowly brewing the coffee at the miserable pace of a dead snail.
So he sat. And then sat some more.
Running out of motivation to sit and wait, he started to narrow his eyes at the coffee maker, as if to heat the coffee through purely the force of his glare. Three seconds, he decided. Three seconds, and then it would be socially acceptable to vocalize his frustrations. One, Two, Three…
Just as he had begun to open his mouth, the barista gave him a winning smile. “Your coffee, Mr. Rays.”
Rolling his eyes, he addressed the barista. “Thanks, Talia. You think next time you can make it in less than thirty minutes?”
“That’s what you get for staying awake for so long.” She slid the coffee over, her accusatory glare seamlessly slipping into a grin as she cheerily added, “Would you care to leave a tip?”
Axel snorted, dropping a penny in the tip jar. “That’s what you get for good intentions. Next time, I’m going to Starbucks.”
Natalia gave him a long-suffering look. “At three in the morning? When you find any a Starbucks that’s open at three in the morning, let me know. And you better tip me better than that; I’m the one who gives you all the spare change you need when you’re staring longingly at vending machines.”
Okay, fine. She had a point. Alex could recount, off the top of his head, multiple incidents wherein Talia had saved his idiotic, starving, sleep deprived ass, either by dragging him out of the rain to get his life together, or giving him thirty dollars for shoes. In fact, that was pretty much how they had met.
Axel shakes his head and smiles, and in that motion, concedes. “And for that, I will forever be at your beck and call.”
Natalia lets out a smirk. “Damn right.” Axel grins, dropping a twenty dollar bill into the tip jar.
At Talia’s incredulous look, Axel responds, “Let’s be real - you and I both know a majority of that’ll be invested in keeping me alive and hidden.”
The barista raised an eyebrow at the mention of the danger he was in but nodded her head. Hesitating, she said, “This is pretty much all the money you have at the moment.”
Axel snorted. “I’ll live.”
Talia gave him a soft look of gratitude and slipped over to his side of the counter, grabbing a seat next to him and leaning her head on his shoulder. “You should sleep.”
Axel just pulls her a little closer, letting that be his answer for the time being.
He cradles his coffee closer to his chest, relishing the steady warmth it gave him. They sat in silence, Talia fluttering her eyes closed and resting, and Axel slowly sipping his coffee, doing his absolute best to think of nothing.
------
None of them actually slept. They rarely ever could. They simply sat there and stared sleepily (somewhat resembling zombies, as his newly discovered friends would later tell them) at the explosion of dark colors on the back walls. But when Axel went to take another sip of his coffee, at around 6:00 AM, he came across the fact that there was nothing left (and for the fifteenth time, mind you). The knowledge hit him like a freight truck and he squealed. [He still insists it never happened, shoving any mention of the incident away with a baleful glare and an aggravated “it was a manly sound of surprise, you charlatan.”]
Both he and Talia snapped to alertness in half a second, practically hurling themselves out of the barstools and taking in the time.
“Shit.” they proclaimed in unison. Natalia, in a hurry to right her clothes and clean up the shop simultaneously, glared at Axel.
“This is all your fault. This is all your fault, and I’m going to be late, and do you want to know who will die for it? You. You will.”
“How is this my fault? You’re the one who runs a coffee shop! It’s not my fault that your coffee isn’t strong enough!”
Natalia slowly turned towards him, eyes narrowing dangerously at the insult to her coffee. Anyone who knew Natalia Chernov also knew that whomsoever decided to comment on her coffee even insinuating it was anything less than the best on Earth would be a dead man. (“Or woman, I don’t discriminate,” Natalia would later comment with a smirk, as Axel recounted the events in his own… embellished way.) But, for the moment, panic flashed through Axel’s mind like a bullet. Spluttering, he quickly tried to correct his mistake because he liked his guts when they were in his body, thank you very much.
“I-I mean, no, because your coffee is great, the best, the strongest in town - no, the world, even, it’s just that great -”
Talia cut him off with a swift “Good answer. Now take you and your sleep deprived ass out of my shop. I need to open up.” She passed him a cup of coffee with an obscene amount of espresso shots. “And please,” she continued, as Axel stumbled to the door, “go to sleep tonight. It’s a miracle you haven’t been fired from...whatever it is that you do.”
“Thanks, Talia. You’re the best.” Axel hollered, only half listening, and hightailed it down the street.
-----
Axel was done for. That is to say, if “done for” means “about to be fired from the only job that puts up with his shit.” In that case, then yes. He was definitely, certainly, irrevocably done for. He stood in the middle of a beautiful (in his perspective) garage, complete with graffiti on the walls (courtesy of him), and a startlingly wide array of all kinds of vehicles.
“I - I have, a completely valid explanation -” Axel panted out.
The heavily muscled, tall, and excessively tattooed man neatly cut him off. “And I have a completely valid explanation as to why you are fired, Rays. Did you not remember the client you were supposed to meet and deal with thirty goddamn minutes ago?” he barks gruffly.
“Look, Roman, I tried to get here on time, and we both know I’m the best mechanic you’ll find this side of Boston.”
“In that case, I’ll look in the other side of Boston,” he remarked dryly, annoyance still lining his features. As the annoyance started to fade away, he shook his head and said, “Look, Axel, I know that you need a job to keep a roof over your head. But remember, you’re young, and you have many opportunities. If you ever need a recommendation, just let me know, and I’ll give you one. You really are a talented person, you know. I know it too, and I love you, but I have a business to run, and we’re taking money losses. I’m not going to make you work here for free.”
At Axel’s continuously surly look, Roman sighed kept talking.
“You should drop by on Friday, I know Fiona would enjoy seeing you again.”
Axel scrunched up his nose. He knew what the man was attempting to do, and damn if he didn’t appreciate it. Just a little. He stared up at Roman.
We still family?
Roman rolled his eyes and nodded firmly.
Of course, dumbass.
Axel felt a traitorous wash of relief.
So instead of telling him where, exactly, he could shove his goddamn recommendations, Axel says, “Yeah. We can meet up whenever. Thanks, ‘Romulan’. Bye.”
Roman smiles. “Yeah, whatever, Spock. Live long and prosper.”
Live long and prosper.
(Ha.)
