Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There was only so much rain that could almost perpetually drizzle against the window panes before the stickers began to strip at the edges, the paint swathed over paint when the day was warm, for once.

                ‘That’s… pretty textbook, Skipper,’

                ‘Can you think of anything better?’

                His fingers held a stiff brush, dipping it in the can of white paint and wiping off the excess before double coating the words, the soft, subtle advertisement. The place didn’t get much traffic, but it didn’t need much to stay active; cheap upkeep with enough regular customers to make an alright living, at least, by his standards.

                Apollo’s Café.

                That warmth was short lived. It wasn’t as though you could expect that much in Vancouver, anyway, but it was still nice while it lasted, the paint only just having set before the rain picked up again, casting sporadic patterns over the glass, condensation forming on the inside. The rain went straight down – barely any wind – but it still made contact, accenting the faint music through the speakers, meshing with the sound of ceramic mugs and crafted stainless steel to steel,  heated liquids uniquely intertwined.

                Apron folded in half, tied around his waist, he wasn’t necessarily good with the presentation, but he could make a mean coffee, and quick, too. Ash was more adept for the fancy stuff: the latte art, the hashed sticks of chocolate and the dusting of cocoa, the fruit and syrup assembled atop a cake slice.

                She’d give him crap about it, but it just meant that they had to take the stages in turn – he at the machine and her with the tools. The heat and sureness of expertise to the fragility and care of mastery, the steam that had left blisters on his fingers making him faintly flush before the raw product would be adorned. That’s what got people coming back -- what got him coming back.

                “Shepard…? Can you close shop?” Ashley’s mouth twisted softly as she took off her apron, folding it and packing it away, “I need to pick up my sister before it’s too late,”

                Stacking up the small coffee plates, Shepard brought them behind the counter, dimmed lights casting soft shadows, the streetlamps outside filtering in.

                “Yeah, just leave the keys on the bench.” He replied, placing the saucers in the deep sink in the back room before coming back out, patting his hands together.

                “Don’t sound so solemn: I know you don’t have anywhere else to go tonight,” Ash smirked, elbowing him lightly, the sound of the keys echoing through the small front of the café. Shepard shoved her back, snorting, picking up one of the cleaning clothes and moving to the coffee machine.

                “You don’t know that. I might have a ridiculously hot date, or something,” The last two words were more of an afterthought. He didn’t have anywhere else to go but home, though that was okay. Ashley was just ruthless.

                “Yeah, sure, Skipper.” Grabbing her coat, Ashley stepped around the bench, shrugging it on and heading to the door, “I’ll seeya’ tomorrow,”

                Shepard waved over his shoulder, listening to the bell of the door opening, then a slight scuffle as he wiped down the metal pieces.

                “Ah… Sorry. We’re closing up,”

                “…Oh. No, I’m sorry, I just--… It’s alright, I’ll go.”

                Glancing back, Shepard couldn’t see around her, but there was the shadow of another person. He cocked a brow, placing the cloth down.

                “It’s all good; I can serve another. Not like I have anywhere to go, right, Ash?” Shepard eyed her with a lopsided curve in his lips as she looked back in question, shrugging a shoulder after a moment.

                “Not like you get overtime, either.” She said, smarmily.

                “Go pick up your sister already,” Shepard returned, turning back, the door ringing again as it was closed, the noise of the rain dampening once more.

                The legs of one of the chairs squeaked against the floor as it was pulled out, multiple bags meeting the floor.

                “…Sorry, about that. Couldn’t see that you were closing, thought I could catch a quick drink, you know. Remedy the cold, I guess.”

                “Don’t worry about it. I basically live here, anyway,” Shepard set up one of the clean cups, grabbing a serviette and spoon and setting it up like Ashley had always made him do, before turning around to face the customer.

                The sounds seemed to fade away, just as the dwindling late afternoon light did outside, the colours changing their tints, though staying as cold as ever. Shepard’s silver tongue turned to lead and felt just as heavy in his mouth. It was weird. Even for him.

                Hair wet and curled from the rain, despite the shaken out and done up umbrella by his side, soft, hazel eyes looked back at him, then looked away, down to the few books laid out before him, a small furrow coming to his brow.

                Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Shepard brought thought back to his head, stepping around the counter and over to him.

                “What can I get you?” He asked, having to consciously make himself blink and breathe, small inhales and light exhales, like a normal person, for once, as the guy looked up again.

                “A, uh, cappuccino, would be good, thanks,”

                Freckles over his brow, the slight scars over the corner of his mouth, the faint lines in the outer edges of his eyes, shifted as he gave a short smile, and Shepard watched either, before they went and he was leant to the side, rifling through one of his bags.

                It was definitely weird, but the good kind. “Easy,” Shepard made to turn after the money was exchanged before he spoke again:

                “My name’s Kaidan, if you needed it. For the coffee, I mean.” He was quick to explain himself, and Shepard watched as his knuckles turned whiter around the pen that he was holding, and he didn’t think it was from the cold.

                Blinking, Shepard looked around. The rest of the place was empty, apart from the two of them. He grinned, swapping the weight between his feet. “I think I’ll remember whose it is.”

                Softly chuckling, under his breath, the other ducked his head. “…Sorry. Long day.”

                Back behind the counter, Shepard filled the machine up, pressing the coffee down then having it pour down into the cup he’d gotten, purging the steam well, keeping his hands far from the blistering jets. Far too many times had he had mishaps with that thing. A few of the burns still ached, now. The milk steamed quick, but he couldn’t help his jacked concentration, glancing over his shoulder.

                It was half curiosity, half something else he couldn’t name, the end of the pen resting between the scarred lips, sight downcast to the open book, scrawlings of ink on the creased pages. He was starting to get a sense of the sound again, the atmosphere, and while the silence wasn’t awkward, he didn’t want it.

                “Writer, huh?” Shepard asked, finally taking his eyes away to pull the milk away, glossy froth settling on the top. The metal meeting the countertop almost drowned out the other’s voice. He was quiet, but Shepard was concentrating.

                “Yeah… Taking a few courses at the College nearby. Just transferred.”

                “So you’re new here?” Shepard wasn’t good at small talk, but he tried, taking the distilled coffee away from the machine and pouring out the milk over it, the foam topping it off. It looked boring on its own, and he knew he shouldn’t have, but he grabbed the powdered chocolate shaker anyway.

                “Needed new… scenery. It’s for the better.”

                “You sure? The rain’s a little hard to handle sometimes, and then there’s the snow.”

                How did Ashley even do it? He looked between the shaker and the cup, before tentatively lifting it up, using his fingers over the perforations to direct the amount that came out.

                “Kinda’ used to it. I lived here with my parents until College. Now I’m back. I don’t mind the cold.”

                “It’s like riding a bike, then.” Shepard didn’t know how dumb it sounded until it came out of his mouth, instantly regretting it and messing up what he was doing. He huffed. It looked bad, and he knew it. He would never underestimate Ash’s ability to do that kind of thing, and do it perfectly, ever again.

                “…What is?”

                “…Getting… used to the weather?” Shepard tried, glancing over his shoulder again, then back down, making a face at the cup like it was all its fault. He couldn’t just swipe off the foam and try again. That’d leave it practically flat, and someone was waiting. The bad looking ‘C’ that barely seemed like one would have to do.

                Picking up the saucer and the cup, Shepard stepped around the bench, taking a fleeting second to steel himself. Very weird. He smiled again as he laid the cup down, another half-smile coming to the other, placing the pen down, lightly laughing, breathy.

                “Thank you.” He said, curling his hand around the cup, finger sliding into the handle, lifting it up to his lips.

                “Not a problem.”

                The re-purging of the steam well swallowed up the sound of Shepard’s drawn-out sigh, rolling his shoulders. It was just coffee. He went back to cleaning, if only to keep himself busy, tapping out the excess, grounded coffee, wiping off the pipes, actually moving onto those sullied cups and glasses. Ash would have his ass if he left them there for her in the morning.

                “So… What kind of writing? Journalism, that kind of thing?”

                Ceramic clinking against ceramic, astutely, oddly, careful.

                “…That’s what they’d like me to do, I guess. I’m… more on the… fictional side, maybe.”

                “Probably got a book in the works, huh?” It was trying, but it was easy, too, Shepard thought, as he began working on drying the cups and spoons.

                “You could say that… It’s getting there.”

                Shepard looked back just in time to see his tongue lick away the froth from his bottom lip, and it was just so, Shepard tightening his hold on the cup so he wouldn’t drop it.

                “Hey…” The guy started, his head tilted, placing the empty cup down. His expression tightened minutely, like he was thinking about what to say. “…My name starts with a ‘K’, but thanks. I should probably get going.”

                He was that close to dropping the cup, again, that he had to place it down. Of course it did. Yeah, wiping off the froth and starting again with a whole new coffee would have turned out better. Shepard wiped his hands off on his apron, huffing again and shaking his head.

                “One in two chance, and I chose wrong.”

                “--Good coffee, though. Don’t worry.” Kaidan said, right after him, obviously trying to reassure him and beginning to gather up his things.

                “You don’t have too far to go, hopefully? Looks like the rain doesn’t want to let up for anybody,” Shepard was quick to get his stride back, though.

                “About a half-an-hour’s walk. The rain isn’t so bad, it’s like riding a bike, remember?”

                He felt the jab, but he let it happen, wholly, a laugh shaking his shoulders.

                “Yeah.” Shepard agreed, pulling open one of the cabinets and placing the dried cups in, one by one. Whenever he broke one, Ash would make him pay for it, and his paycheque was already running a little thin.

                “…Thanks again. Hope I didn’t make too much extra mess for you to clean.”

                “It’s nothing,” Stepping back out, Shepard grabbed the cloth again, moving onto wiping down the tables, giving him a warm look, “Sorry I messed your name up,”

                “I’m used to it,” Kaidan waved it off, shouldering a bag and picking up the handle of his umbrella, “…I guess I’ll seeya’,”

                “Have a fun walk in the rain,” Shepard teased, cleaning off the spilt coffee stains off the knotted wood surface.

                “I’ll try.”

                The door rang again as it was opened, staying like that a moment, resounding once more as it closed.

                Sullied water crept beneath Shepard’s unkempt nails, the cleaning slowing until it stopped. The small establishment soon felt more empty than it usually did when he was by himself in there, his reflection looking back at him until the spread evaporated. He exhaled through his nose, shrugging it off and moving onto the next table, the one recently occupied.

                His foot met with something other than the table leg, for once, and he leant back, tipping his head. Another bag Kaidan had brought in, pushed under the table. He must’ve forgotten it. Chucking the cloth aside, he bent over and picked it up, going to the door and looking out. It was hard to see, through the sheets of the rain, but he caught Kaidan a few blocks down.

                Shepard called out, and he got no response, only just able to notice the wires of earphones. He didn’t take another second before he stepped out, jogging after him. It was cold, and the rain was sharp, making his toughened skin crawl, his hair sticking to his forehead and temple. He usually had it shorn short, but it was better to counteract the cold when it was longer.

                “Kaidan!”

                When he finally reached him, Shepard lightly grabbed his shoulder, trying to get his attention. Kaidan flinched under his hand, tripping up over his feet before catching himself, looking back.

                “…Something the matter…?” Kaidan asked, brow furrowing, pulling out the ear buds.

                “No, you just…” Taking a breath, finding he was a little puffed out, Shepard held up the bag, a little rain soaked, though not too bad, “…You forgot this,”

                Kaidan’s shoulders slumped, and he lifted his free hand, rubbing his eyes. “Damn… Yeah. Long day,” Taking the bag back, he held it under his arm, pressed to his ribs, giving Shepard an apologetic expression, “…I think I’m making your day about ten times harder than it would be, usually,” He bit into his lip, then noticed how Shepard was basically water drenched, holding out the umbrella for the both of them.

                If a flush crossed the bridge of Shepard’s nose, he could just blame it on the chill, crossing his arms tight over his chest.

                “You’re not. It’s really not that bad. Kind of nice, actually,”

                “Sure…” Kaidan glanced aside, letting out a huff of a breath, “I’ll… I guess I should try to come in sooner, next time, so I don’t screw up the whole thing, huh?”

                “You can come in whenever you want. I don’t mind closing up a bit later,” Shepard said, droplets of water sinking down from his forehead over the slant of his nose and the edge of his mouth.

                Kaidan looked to him, his lips twitching, like he was trying to bite a smile or something back, Shepard guessed. That was a good sign.

                “…You sure you don’t want to take the umbrella? I mean, you’re soaked.” Kaidan asked.

                Shaking his head, Shepard slicked the hair back, the ends flicking up. “I’m already wet. Might as well keep one of us dry. Besides, wouldn’t want to get your writing wet.”

                “Maybe…” The rain almost covered Kaidan’s voice, effectively enveloping everything else in the city.

                “…I’ll see you then?” Shepard was never subtle, even when he tried to be.

                “…Yeah… I’ll see you then.”

                It was static, just two strangers standing in the downpour, then Kaidan turned on his heels, heading back down the way he was going.

                The rain had seeped into his clothes, but Shepard couldn’t feel the cold of it.

Chapter Text

He didn’t know what it was, but, Shepard found, with his hand on the gear stick, that he couldn’t stop smiling, or he’d stop, and then it would come back, grinning lopsidedly to himself as he leant forward in his chair, wiping the condensation off of his windscreen from  the heater running full blast.

                He couldn’t remember the last time he had smiled or felt like that, without being drunk. Maybe it had been never. He didn’t think he would need the heater to feel warm.

                It was strange, though. A ten minute interval which felt longer, and he liked it, a lot, even if he’d acted like a dumbass. Kaidan didn’t seem too put off. Though, Shepard had pressed his forehead to the steering wheel a few times at stoplights just thinking about the letter mix up. It could have gone worse. At least he hadn’t spat out something along the lines of ‘I find you really attractive and interesting, please come back soon so I can just look at you and maybe talk to you’ or ‘If you were a booger, I’d pick you first’.

                That… could have made it a lot worse. As far as first meetings went, it wasn’t so bad, according to Shepard, anyway. He was dripping wet and sticky by the time he’d made it to the car, but that was okay.

                Keys in his pocket, the chill in the air bit at his skin again, under his scarf, the damp hairs at the nape of his neck standing on edge. He jogged into his apartment complex double quick, only to get a call as he was at the foot of the staircase. Fishing it out, he didn’t check the number before answering it.

                “Hello?”

                “Shepard,”

                “Hey, Dad…” Shepard rubbed the back of his cold neck, heading up the stairs to his apartment. It was Anderson.

                “Just checking up on you. Staying out of trouble?”

                “You know me,”

                “I do know you, and that’s why I’m asking,” His voice was amused, but also concerned, as Anderson usually was.

                “Yeah.” Shepard clarified, rolling his eyes light-heartedly and opening his apartment. “No DUIs or new records to account for or anything,”

                His apartment was small, smaller than small; one bedroom that was filled with everything but a bed, Shepard preferring to sleep out in the open room down the short hall, near the windows, a bathroom off to the side, and a minimal kitchen which occupied a corner. It wasn’t much, and it was almost never clean, but it was his.

                “I’m passed all that stuff. I thought you’d know that.” Shepard said into the receiver, dropping his bag by the foot of the single bed, sitting down on the end of it and taking off his scarf.

                “Yeah, I trust you, though it doesn’t hurt to call and make sure,”

                “I guess.”

                “So how have you been? Holding up?” Anderson asked.

                “Doing good,” Shepard answered, flopping back onto the bed, looking up to the slightly discoloured ceiling, “Work’s fine. Getting by… How about you?”

                “Good, good. I’m working with a new kid. His name’s David, really smart, just under bad circumstances… Kind of reminds me of you in a way.”

                Shepard snorted, crossing an arm over his face. “Well, I hope not. I wasn’t exactly a fun handful.”

                “You were a good kid, John. You just needed some steering in the right direction.”

                “Maybe,” Carding his hair back between his fingers, Shepard pushed himself up on an elbow, “I gotta’ be keeping you from some kind of paperwork. I should go,”

                A soft, weathered laugh answered him. “Alright. I’ll keep in contact. Stay safe.”

                “You, too.”

                The dial tone hummed in his ear, and he locked his phone, placing it aside, rolling onto his belly. It was a short phone call, but his head wasn’t on straight. He didn’t need another dumb moment on his part to add to the pile, that day, at his quota maybe for the week. That wouldn’t stop Shepard from outdoing himself, though.

                A quick shower as to not rack up the water bill and a smoke leaning out onto the tiny balcony and he was already tired, if only because his head was racing. By the time his head met with the pillows, he was still smiling.

--

“Shit…!”

                Heated metal trays met with the countertop, and Shepard was desperately waving his burnt hand, blowing on the blisters that were already beginning to form on his fingers.

                “The oven mitt is right there, Skipper,” Ash cocked a brow at him, grabbing it and moving the fresh tray of pastries elsewhere.

                “I’m a manly man I don’t need it, but… damn…” Huffing, Shepard turned on the tap, placing his hand under the cold stream and ducking his head.

                “Things that just come out of the oven are generally hot, you know,”

                Muttering something under his breath, Shepard looked over his shoulder, a woman standing at the counter looking back at him with a blank expression. He tried a smile, the gesture coming out stiff.

                “I’ll be with you in a sec’, sorry,” He apologized, turning off the tap, the burn quickly coming back. Furrowing his brow, he grabbed a band aid, taping it around the blister. That’d have to do. “What can I get for… you…?”

                Maybe it was unprofessional, and maybe it was just plain stupid, but his whole attention span shifted to the next person who came through the door. Same hair (though a little less wet, the weather actually being forgiving, for once), same brow freckles, same mouth scars, same eyes. He could feel that booger pickup line coming back full force, the woman in front talking at him, the order going over his head.

                He smiled lopsidedly, Kaidan giving him a small wave and a warm look as he sat himself down in the same spot as last night.

                “Hello? Excuse me?” The woman frowned, leaning over the bench and trying to get his attention.

                “Shepard!” Ash got him out of his trance with a sharp elbow to his ribs, making him cough and blink owlishly.

                “Huh, wha?” He breathed.

                “C’mon, your head’s up in the clouds today,” Ashley murmured to him, frowning.

                “I… Yeah. It is.” Shepard wet his lips, giving her a sorry look, “Take this one for me?” He didn’t wait for an answer, slinking around the counter. He heard her sigh before answering the woman pleasantly. Ash was a keeper.

                It was that same feeling, a haze, working its way into his lungs and stomach.

                “Hey,” Shepard started, a few steps from Kaidan’s table.

                “Hey…” He returned, his fingers curled around the table’s edge.

                “Didn’t think you’d be in until later,” Shepard was careful enough not to say: ‘didn’t think I’d see you until later’. He was trying to keep the creeper level down.

                Kaidan was quiet a moment before answering: “Classes are a bit later, today. Said I would, didn’t I?” He looked about, placing his bag onto the table surface, “Seems you’re a little busy,”

                Shepard couldn’t help the smile that pulled at the corner of his mouth, it just made him happy, and he didn’t know why, nor did he care. He didn’t realize it before, but Kaidan wore glasses, simple, black frames. He must’ve been too preoccupied to notice.

                “Yeah… So, what can I get you? Same as last night?” Shepard asked.

                “Maybe something different – Latte, two sugars,” Kaidan wrung his hands around the seam of his bag.

                “Sure thing, anything else?” He was all too willing to give him, pretty much, anything that he wanted, even if a cappuccino was barely any different to a latte.

                Kaidan shook his head, though a weird look crossed his face as he looked to the other people lined up at the counter, “No, thanks, but… I think you have other customers before me,”

                Turning on his heels and heading back behind the counter, Shepard waved over his shoulder, “It’s alright,” He knew he got a withering stare from the second person in line, but he shrugged it off, straining the coffee and steaming the milk.

                Nudging in next to him, pressing against his upper arm, Ash gave him a knowing smirk with a sidelong glance, making her orders.

                “Same guy from yesterday?”

                “…Yeah,” Shepard eventually answered, pouring the milk over the coffee.

                “You are in no way subtle, Skipper,” She snorted, taking the metal canister off him and refilling it.

                “What…? What do you mean?” He was trying to be nonchalant, maybe glossing on the fake-hurt a little too much.

                “I swear, if you don’t give him your number, you’re on pastry duty for the next week,” Ash threatened monotonously, as though it were part of a normal conversation, and, really, between them, it kind of was.

                Shepard scoffed, grabbing a saucer from the shelf and a napkin. “As if,”

                “You actually don’t think I’d make you?” She asked matter-of-factly, leaning on the bench and turning to him.

                “…You’re serious, aren’t you?”

                “One hundred percent, there.”

                Rubbing a hand over his face, he sighed and put the filled cup down into the saucer with the napkin, Ashley immediately taking it back off and sliding the napkin over.

                “Come on, what could it hurt?”

                “A lot of things, maybe?”

                She took a pen out of her apron pocket and insistently put it in his hand, manually wrapping his fingers around it when he made to drop it. “I’ll just do it for you, if you don’t,”

                “Yeah, I know,” Shepard returned, dryly, sighing again and moving to write his number down, glancing at Ash and shifting himself between her and the napkin as she was trying to look.  She shoved his shoulder with a huff, getting back to her orders.

                The tip of the pen hovered over the napkin, his head tripping along thoughts again. If he just put the number by itself, it might be too ambiguous, and if he put something on it, maybe it would seem like he was coming on too hard.

                ‘I like you’ He wrote, after forcing himself, with his number written underneath. He did, he realized, he actually did. Picking it up, he turned again and waved it at Ashley, mouthing the words: ‘Are you happy?’ the girl mouthing back ‘Very’ and giving him a cheesy thumbs up and a grin.

                Rolling his eyes, Shepard placed the napkin back, facedown, putting the coffee on top of it again. He picked the saucer up, feet planted to the floor where they were until Ash lightly pushed him again.

                “Go. I’ll take care of these,” She shooed him and he finally moved, actually having to pay attention on not spilling the thing, that time. He placed it down beside Kaidan’s open book, the same as the last one he’d seen, though with a lot more writing in it.

                “Thank you,” Kaidan told him, softly, glancing up at him before picking up the mug. Shepard had half the mind to take the napkin and just put it under the table, replacing it with another, claiming it was dirty, or something, if it weren’t for Ashley’s eyes he could feel boring into his back. He didn’t even know why he was… nervous, maybe, he couldn’t put a word on the feeling that made him hyper alert, worried, even. It was just coffee, he had to remind himself, though it might be a little bit more than coffee after what he’d written, if Kaidan even saw it.

                “You know… you never told me what you were writing, yesterday,” Shepard started, the nerves in his gut not meeting the ones in his mouth or throat, through much control.

                Placing his hand over his mouth, Kaidan warmly laughed, a gritty thing, putting the heated cup down again.

                “You know, you never did tell me your name,” He reiterated, a smile playing on his lips. Shepard blinked dumbly, hand still wrapped around the pen tightening.

                “…Shepard. It’s Shepard.” He answered once he got his peripheral and attention off of the other’s quirked mouth.

                “Shepard…?”

                “John… Shepard,” He gave a single, breathy, attempted laugh. He liked the way it sounded, coming from him, “Shepard’s easier, though. Less common,”

                “Well, Shepard…” Kaidan began, fingers absently playing with the napkin, and each time they did, it made his pulse jerk, “You, uh… You wanted to know what I’m writing…? It’s… not really all that fleshed out, or great—“

                “Hit me with it,” Shepard said, arm acting on its own accord and pulling out the chair opposite him, then he had no choice but to sit down in it.

                “Heh… Alright. It’s pretty much… futuristic universe, aliens… intergalactic travel governments and military, pretty volatile place, but, there’s something more lurking in the darker recesses… I haven’t really gotten much farther after that,” Kaidan looked him at him, and Shepard looked back, arms crossed over the table, listening to each word he said, and how he said it, what it looked like and how it sounded.

                “…It’s following a man who goes to space, with the military, proving himself to the person he loves, while unravelling this darkness that’s threatening humanity and all organic life, it’s--… yeah, you know, it’s a little dumb,” Kaidan said, clearing his throat, picking up the coffee again, probably just to make himself stop talking.

                “Sounds like you’re a romantic,” Shepard said, cocking a brow, amused, “I like it. You’ll have to show me some actually writing, sometime,”

                “Maybe, but… your co-worker looks like she needs a little help,” Kaidan pointed over to the counter around the cup, a few more customers having coming in during the time he’d been stuffing around. “Guess I should let you get back to it,”

                “Ah… sorry. You gotta’ get to class soon?” Shepard started, grudgingly pushing himself up from his seat, legs like jelly.

                “After this, yeah… So…” Taking the napkin off the saucer, Kaidan started messing with the it again, and Shepard fought off the sudden want to prematurely flee from the scene. “I’ll seeya’? …Again?”

                Swallowing thickly, Shepard flicked the pen between his fingers, “Yeah, definitely. I’ll be here,” He shoved his hands in his pockets, turning and shuffling off at a pace he tried to make sure wasn’t too fast or too slow.

                Back behind the safety of the counter, Shepard kept his back to the shop, head ducked, glancing at the orders and making them. He did himself proud, only peering over his shoulder once or twice, fingers yanking away from the heated steel of the steam well without a sound as he heard that soft laugh, squeezing his eyes shut, the door opening and closing a moment later, the bell ringing.

                Methodically letting out the breath he’d been holding, Shepard finally let himself turn around, the saucer and mug left on the table, without the napkin.