#i dropped the oa cause it's not gonna be finished

[ur-l]

Netflix nowadays is like those fanfics from early 2000s; one great chapter and the rest has been on hiatus since 2003

[hopeisour4letteredword]

with friends like these

Summary: Apollo gets his wisdom teeth out, and Clay babysits.

Link to AO3 in the notes.

"Apollo, buddy. Buddy. You gotta lie back down."

Apollo blinks owlishly at Clay, swaying in place in the middle of the kitchen. God, Clay would feel better if he at least had the sense to lean against the counter. "But I want coffee."

"No coffee for you," Clay says, forcing himself to be stern despite the dreading anticipation of the way Apollo's expression falls, comically sad. AJ always looks younger than he is, as a big brave twenty-year-old, but the sad little pout while he's out of his mind on painkillers, cheeks swollen from surgery? He looks like he's twelve. Adorable. Clay feels bad for him, he really does—he got his own wisdom teeth out last year and he remembers how much it sucked—but the little baby pout just makes him want to smile. "You'll wind yourself up something good, sunshine."

"It's not that much caffeine," Apollo tries to say, even as he lets Clay catch him by the arm and pull him, stumbling, out of the kitchenette. "An' it would make me feel more awake."

"You don't need to feel more awake, you need to rest."

"But I've got stuff to do," Apollo says, mournfully. Clay manages to wrangle him back over to the couch and nudge him back down onto the cushions. Apollo makes doe eyes up at him while Clay grabs the nearest blanket to wrap around his shoulders. "I gotta work on my readings—"

"It's winter break, you don't have readings."

"But next semester."

"You don't have any advance readings yet. You checked and told me so before the surgery."

"I have to stay ahead," Apollo says. His eyelids droop. "I gotta be good at my classes so I can be a good lawyer."

"You're gonna be a great lawyer. But you aren't a lawyer yet, and you don't have any classes right now, so just take it easy, okay?"

Apollo opens his eyes again to peer back up at Clay. "My mouth hurts."

"I know. Sorry, buddy. Not time for more painkillers yet. You want me to grab you the ice pack again? Get the rest of your shake?"

Apollo nods, still looking glum. Clay dutifully returns to the kitchen to retrieve an ice pack from the freezer, which he wraps in a kitchen towel, and the rest of Apollo's post-surgery chocolate shake out of the fridge. When he gets back out to the living room, Apollo has toppled over to be horizontal on the couch. Clay puts the necessities down on the coffee table and scoops Apollo's legs up onto the couch so he isn't twisted all funny. The last thing the poor thing needs is unnecessary strain making him uncomfortable. He ruffles Apollo's hair. Apollo leans into the touch. Aww.

"Anything else I can grab you?"

"Can you sit with me? I wanna watch you play games."

"Aw, sure. What do you wanna watch?"

"I dunno. Anything's fine."

"Let's play some Odyssey, then. I'll go grab the Switch."

Apollo brightens, just like Clay thought he would. He always did like playing on Clay's Switch when they were kids. Even for Clay, it's hard not to be transported back to sleepovers, hushed giggles as they tried not to tip Clay's dad off that they were staying up late while they played games under the covers, whenever he picks it back up to replay something. He knows the memories are even more precious to Apollo, who spent so much of his adolescence struggling through foster system bullshit.

"Yeah!"

"Okay, sit tight."

When Clay comes back, Apollo has propped himself up enough to try to drink more of his shake. It dribbles out of his mouth.

"Oh, man. You got a little, uh—"

Apollo looks frustrated. "Did I miss again? I still can't feel my lower lip."

"Yeah, no, it's, um—you're fine, just let me—" Clay grabs a tissue off the box on the coffee table and wipes Apollo's face. "There you go."

"Thanks," Apollo says. He smiles, wobbly but true. "You're the best."

"No problem, sunshine," Clay says, smiling. He moves around the room, getting the Switch hooked up to the port so it will show up on the TV, before he lifts Apollo's upper body out of the way so he can slide onto the couch with him. Apollo's head ends up propped on his thigh. He helps Apollo adjust himself so there's no pressure on his cheeks, and he can easily hold the ice packs in place while seeing the screen. "Here we go."

"Let's-a go," Apollo says, in a terrible Mario impression. Clay barks out a laugh and starts the game.

"Goofball."

They don't get very far into the game before Clay is pretty sure Apollo starts to doze beside him. His breathing evens out and his weight goes limp. That's fine. He's warm and cozy, and Clay likes being someone he feels comfortable enough with to sleep around. If this is helping him feel a little better while he's in pain, Clay's satisfied. It's not like it's a hardship to sit here and play video games and be his pillow.

But the fact that he thinks Apollo's mostly asleep does mean Clay almost gets the shit scared out of him when Apollo says, suddenly, "Clay."

"Jesus!" Clay fumbles a jump and Mario goes plummeting to his doom. Oops.

"Yes, hello, hi. I thought you were napping, buddy. What's up?"

"You know you're my best friend, right?"

"Yeah? Of course."

"You know?" Apollo rolls so he's mostly on his back, looking up at Clay with big, sad doe eyes again. Clay stares back down at him, befuddled. Of course he knows. "Cause I—I know I'm kinda bitchy sometimes—"

"Aw, Apollo—"

"An' I can't help you with your smart science stuff a lot—"

"That's not—"

"An' I get really anxious and you have to babysit me sometimes an' I yell at you for it—"

"Apollo—"

"But you're really important to me and it would suck if you didn't know just 'cause I'm stupid."

"You aren't stupid," Clay says. He ruffles Apollo's hair again. Apollo's eyes slide closed, lips tugging back into the miserable little pout. "I know I'm your best friend. You're plenty nice to me. Just 'cause you're a little prickly when you're stressed doesn't mean you don't make it obvious that you care about people."

Apollo sniffles. Oh, no. Case in point, though.

"And you don't have to worry about not helping me with science stuff," Clay adds. "I know I'm not that helpful with your law stuff, either. You're way better at helping me review than I am at helping you review."

At least that makes Apollo smile a little. "Jus' easier to read formulas off notecards than legal definitions."

"You can say that again." Clay will take astrophysics over civil law any day. "Besides, you're the best hype-man I could hope for. Who else is gonna get me super pumped to go to space even though it scares the piss out of you?"

"It's so high up," Apollo whines, making Clay cackle. He never thinks about fear of heights as an issue with spaceflight until Apollo mentions it. "An' there's the whole vacuum and no air and you're just going in a tin can—"

"Don't talk about my girl Hattie like that, she's perfect."

"An' even Mr. Starbuck is nervous about it."

"And you help Sol get psyched for it too," Clay says. He pats Apollo gently on the shoulder. "Which is exactly what I'm talking about."

Apollo sighs.

"I know we're best friends, sunshine," Clay adds, more gently. "Come on. You think I would agree to live with you if I didn't know you liked me? I bet you could pull some real passive-aggressive roommate pranks if you wanted to."

Apollo huffs out a tiny laugh. "Maybe."

"There we go. We're fine, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Say it with me. We're fine."

"We're fine."

"You're Apollo Justice and you're fine."

"I'm fine!"

"That's my boy." Mario has fallen asleep standing up on-screen. Clay is considering whether or not he should keep playing or encourage Apollo to go take a real nap when Apollo shifts beside him. Clay lifts his arms out of the way on instinct, holding the controller aloft, when Apollo braces himself on shaky arms to turn and crawl the rest of the way over to plop himself down in Clay's lap. "Wh-oa, buddy. Hi there. You want cuddles?"

"Yeah," Apollo mumbles. He drops his head onto Clay's shoulder. Clay carefully shifts his weight and settles down against the back of the couch, letting it take both of their weight. He doesn't think of Apollo as a big guy, because he's not, but geez. A whole adult human does kind of weigh a lot. Good thing Clay's been beefing up for his training. "Are you at the moon yet?"

"Nope. Only at the gardens. It hasn't been that long."

"You're gonna get to the moon someday," Apollo says, with loopy certainty. Clay almost bites down on a grin before he remembers that Apollo can't see him anymore and he can smile as much as he wants, safe from scrutiny. "You're gonna be a kickass astronaut."

"Aw, thanks, bud."

"You're really smart. And good at solving problems."

"Flatterer," Clay says, grin spreading wider. God, he wishes he'd thought to grab his phone and start recording this. Yeah, he does know he's Apollo's best friend and Apollo loves him and all that, but he sure as hell doesn't get this mushy often. It's really cute.

"You deserve it. You're the best friend in the world, Clay," Apollo declares, and promptly passes out on Clay's shoulder.

---

"Anyway," Clay finishes. He knocks back the rest of his mocha. "That's what AJ was like when he got his wisdom teeth out, so like I said. Don't be too embarrassed about it."

Klavier is laughing so hard he's almost crying, a hand slapped over his mouth to muffle the sound of it. Apollo's in the kitchen right now, cooking the three of them brunch. Hopefully the sizzle of frying eggs and sausage covers the sound of Clay's indiscretions out in the living room. Clay's dead meat if it doesn't.

"He never mentioned," Klavier manages to get out, when he finally gets himself under control. "How cute."

"It was pretty great," Clay says, fondly. "But please don't tell him I told you about that. I don't want to die before I make it to the moon, and he will actually kill me for realsies."

"Your secret is safe with me." Klavier props his chin on his hand, grinning. "Has he ever gotten quite so affectionate other times?"

"If he's drunk enough, yeah."

"I'll have to keep it in mind, then."

"S'why I told you," Clay says. He considers the sly, affectionate curl of Klavier's smile for a second before he adds, "But don't bully him too hard afterwards, or you will lose drunk Apollo privileges. Only moderate mortification allowed."

"Would he be taking the privileges away or would you?"

Clay lets his own smile go sharper. He likes Klavier just fine, and he doesn't really believe he'd be that mean to Apollo, but... well, Apollo's Clay's best friend, too. He has obligations if Apollo's boyfriend is an asshole to him. "Fuck around and find out."

"Fair enough, Herr Astronaut," Klavier says. There's a clatter of plates in the kitchen as the sizzling dies down.

"Food's ready!" Apollo hollers. Clay casts Klavier a glance; Klavier mimes zipping his lips, winking. They both push away from the table to wander into the kitchen. Apollo bustles around fixing a plate of food, a pile of hashbrowns and sausage and eggs. Klavier creeps up behind him and puts his hands over Apollo's hips. Apollo startles, almost knocking him away. His cheeks go pink.

"What do you think you're doing? Clay's literally right there."

"Don't mind me," Clay says, cheerfully. He loves having ammunition to give Apollo hell over later.

"I think he already has an inkling that we're dating, Liebling," Klavier murmurs. He leans down to kiss the top of Apollo's head. Apollo gently elbows him in the gut, pushing Klavier away as his cheeks go even redder.

"Yeah, and he's already insufferable enough about it without you hanging off me in front of him. Come on, back off."

Klavier obligingly steps back. He and Clay begin to fix their own plates. Hovering nearby, Apollo asks, suspiciously, "What were you two gossiping about out there, anyway?"

"Oh, nothing," Clay says. He smiles sweetly when Apollo narrows his eyes at him. "By the way, AJ?"

"What?"

"You're the best friend in the world."

[belovedchildofthehouse]

1/4/21 - Day 4

I think I slept in a bit longer than I meant to. I got out of bed around 10 and sluggishly made my way to the chair in the TV room while I caught up on Miki’s messages. My mom brought me an egg muffin and after I ate it I went to the game room to get to work on whatever I wanted to do today HAHA.

I knew I wanted to chip away at Pooh and maybe work on a few other things throughout the day. So I did just that, I began applying the paint and felt a bit better about how it turned out. I wasn’t so happy with the shapes and forms at first but I guess they’re not as terrible as I thought. I do think I want to remake this one though and I already have ideas as to how I could improve it. I listened to game soundtracks while I worked (odyssey and TLOU2). 

Once I got to a good stopping point I went to shower. By the time I got out I got a text from Lindz saying she needed a Milo Therapy Session. She’s thinking of dropping out of her masters. I came over and we talked about ideas and what to consider and stuff. I’m worried for Lindsey and a bit frustrated because I just had this gut feeling that something was going to fall through. I know it’s too early to know that it won’t work for a fact, but things just seem so much more unclear now. I told Lindsey that these were her options:

A. make a list of things she would be interested enough to take up and learn about; driven by passion and curiosity (something she’d feel happy and fulfilled doing) B. make a list of potential jobs she could take up and learn how to do based on the amount of freedom & money she wants (ex. she wants a remote job where she can set her own hours and/or to work for herself, but obviously not every job offers those things..) C. marry someone rich AND, separately, she needs to make a list of her PRIORITIES. What is most important to her? What does she want? What does she need? And When? (financial stability? freedom from her toxic family/house? take a year off to travel? take the time to find a job/career worth pursuing that she would actually enjoy?) I personally think she should... stay in school and at least try the practicum because that way at least she’d know for sure if she’d like it or not and then go from there. But that’s money, and more time being spent at home, and putting a lot of time and energy into something you’re not sure you’re going to like. But you can’t figure out what it is you like until you try and fail.. Anyway.

After our talks I went home and played guitar on the driveway for a bit since it was such a beautiful day. Unnervingly warm for January, but I just enjoyed it while I could and tried not to think about the implications of a 60+ degree winter. I ate my late lunch while Albs streamed dangnagnngaropa. I was waiting for them to get to a good saving point so we could watch some Seinfeld before Lindsey and I went on a walk. But alas... it took too long and by the time they finished was exactly when Lindsey called. We went on our walk with Winnie and afterwards I made my way to Sid’s.

They were all in the kitchen when I arrived. Stone and Dillon were cooking dinner. Dillon watched me play a brief run of Hades that was interrupted by food. We finished the last episode of Survivor. Tony may have deserved the win regarding the game, but Woo deserved the money by a long shot. Fuck cops. 

Afterwards Sid and I ended up watching the OA instead of playing more Hades cause Sid was a bit tired. Today was her first day back at work and she ended up staying up real late the night before. I should start fixing my sleep schedule myself.. It was a bit of a loose viewing of the show and more of a directors commentary, which I always enjoy when it’s something we’ve both already seen. Bitches be bitchin’. We had a lot of good conversations. By the end of the night we talked for like another 45 minutes after having turned off the show just getting excited about all these ideas we have for things we wanna do. I was so tired at that point but I didn’t wanna stop talking. I’m gonna miss those couch conversations whenever I do end up moving out. 

[thejokersenigma]

Ed Nygma x Reader - Opposites Attract - Part 1

Hello everyone - this is a new little thing i started last night when i didn’t feel 100% into writing the next part of Deadly Voice but I wanted to write so i started randomly typing random stuff and it formed into this idea.

Its my first Ed Nygma Fanfic so if you guys like it let me know and I’ll continue it as I have a very vague idea where to take it - if I do continue it I might change the title as this was a very last minute title!

So yeah - let me know what you think and if I should keep going - also if anyone has any requests I am willing to give anything a go! Comments are welcome as always! 

Enjoy! :)

Masterlist

OA MASTERLIST

[Y/N] tackled her hair into a ponytail before she then spun it into a bun on the back of her head. She checked it in the mirror and hid a few stray strands behind her ear, 5thtimes the charm she thought as she finally accepted her hair for what it was for the day and wandered out of the bathroom to finish getting her bag ready.

Her worn out leather satchel squatted on one of the mis-matched kitchen chairs that were placed randomly around a wobbly table that sat in the middle of the kitchen. She dug through the bag pushing aside random crumpled pieces of paperwork from god-knows-how-long-ago. She pulled out a few that were in the way and quickly glanced over them – unimportant – they could sit on the  table till she got back later and had time to decide to ignore them (as she knew would happen).

[Y/N] blindly pushed her arm to the bottom of the bag searching with her fingers for anything that might be attached to her key chain. She felt her hand brush over something fluffy and she grabbed it, pulling it up to revel the limb of a small teddy and the rest of a rather cluttered key chain. It got hooked on a few pockets and a set of headphone wires on the way up, but after a few tugs they were left them hanging free from her hand.

[Y/N] then grabbed her simple fabric purse from the counter top and threw it randomly on top of everything else in her bag before seizing a fleece that hung from the back of the random wicker chair by the table and turning the door knob of the front door.

She pulled the door open, but was jerked to a stop when the door didn’t open. “Err, come on, I’m gonna be late!” she growled at the door. She bent down pulled the door bolt back. Then tried again and at last the door opened.

Just as [Y/N] pulled it inwards she paused and dashed back to grab her phone she had left on the table, then headed back out the partially opened door into the dark morning, keys and phone in hand.

Finally out of the house [Y/N] locked her door behind her before walking up the steep hillside of Gotham, unknotting her headphone wires and attempting to shove the buds in her ear in the exact way so that they would stay in.

She never bothered with public transport. She hated the crush and the poor reliability of a bus, but couldn’t afford a car. Not that she really needed one – yeah, she hated lugging her groceries home, but at least she didn’t fork out a load of money each week for fuel. Especially as, at the moment, she needed every penny she could get.

The walk to her little café was at least half an hour on a good day though – a day where the pedestrian crossings were on her side and she had the energy and motivation to power walk. A bad day was going on an hour. Luckily at this time of the morning there wasn’t too much traffic around and her journey was relatively peaceful. Though this was Gotham, where crime was at an unbelievably high rate, she felt safe wandering through the dark at this time – hell criminals had to sleep too.

As she rounded the corner of a street she caught site of her little corner café. She had to admit it wasn’t the best place for a business like hers. It sat on the corner of a quiet little road a few streets away from the roaring trade of the high-street.

It was hard enough running a café with all the competition that now filled every other business lot, but it was even harder when she wasn’t even in a good location. It made drawing in customers even harder than usual and so it was a constant work in progress to come up with something unique to draw people away from the busy centre. This something still eluded her and was what filled her old notebook she kept in her office.

The customers she did were mainly regulars - either old acquaintances or friends of a friend or family member. She rarely saw a new face, and if she did it was only to point them in the direction of the main hub of shops or point them to a back street car park they had parked in but had lost among the winding streets.

She sighed loudly as she reached the door of her quaint little shop. She shook out her key chain to dislodge the keys caught up in the metal rings and then examined each one, looking for the right one in the dull early morning light for the archaic metal lock.

Eventually she let herself in and tapped her way through the few tables that lined the front of shop, her grubby daps slapping across the fake wooden floorboards. She switched on the lights, illuminating the central room. Like her house, none of the furniture in here matched, but [Y/N] liked to think that it gave the place a bit of character and didn’t want to admit to herself that it was actually because she couldn’t afford anything better.

She made her way behind the counter and leant herself against the door frame of one of the two small rooms at the back of the café. This one functioned as her staff room and office and she threw her purse on the lone moth-eaten sofa that sat in the corner before pushing herself back out into the main room again. She strode around the small working space turning on machines and the cooling display cabinet before entering the other small back room.

In here was her storage room and kitchen. It contained a large industrial sized oven and fridge as well other baking appliances and a walk in cupboard she used for food storage.

An so it was, at 5am, [Y/N] pulled out her prepped batters and dough from the night before, cleared a space on her cramped work surfaces, and scrubbed her hands, before getting to work on prepping and baking for the day, stifling her yawns with the arm of her sleeve.

After hours of prep, baking, cooling and decorating, [Y/N] had drunk 3 cups of coffee and everything was ready for opening. Her coffee machine was humming, her sandwiches were on display in her chilled display cabinet and her cakes and pastries were on show in their air-tight stands.

She walked round the edges of the café, pulling the dark green blinds to reveal the high-reaching windows which made up the front walls and then righted the chairs that sat upside down on each table. Once she was happy with how the store looked she pulled the final blind on the café door to expose an open sign hanging in a miniature window at head height. She then moved back behind the counter to await her first customer for the day.

 Edward Nygma stood before Officer Trent’s desk waiting for the man to return from wherever he currently was so that Ed could deliver a report on the stabbing of a 38 year old Caucasian male. Officer Trent and Officer Dougherty were both working the case, but Ed wanted to avoid Officer Dougherty as much as possible now that he was dating Miss Kringle. Even the very thought of their relationship sent a way of jealousy through him and he would be lying if he said he hadn’t imagined Dougherty when he had been stabbing some watermelon the night before to test a theory of his.

Don’t think like that! He chided himself – he knew that was the other him - the him that needed to stay buried. Are you really surprised Miss Kringle chose him over  you? Your nothing compared to him! You’re a loser - a nobody! Why not let me out and I’ll show her what she’s missing!

“No.” Ed growled out loud causing a few officers to look up from their desks. However, on seeing it was Ed Nygma they no longer found it interesting and soon had their head buried back in their work. Ed flushed red in embarrassment.

“Nygma!” Greeted Officer Trent from behind as he strode up to his desk.

“Officer Trent –“, Ed paused as he saw the man following up behind Trent, “and Officer Dougherty.” Greeted Ed a little less enthusiastically.

“Riddle man!” Exclaimed Officer Dougherty -naively cheerful in Ed’s opinion.

They both looked at him expectantly, “Oh – uh – I have results on the victim – the killer used a rounded blunt object and would have been right handed.” He stated handing over the documents in his hands that contain the details of the case.

“Thanks Riddle man.” Acknowledged Dougherty and Trent nodded as he took the file and flicked through the papers

“Great.” An awkward silence fell over the group of men and the two officers exchanged looks, clearly wanting Ed to leave, but instead Ed spoke up,

“No sooner spoken than broken.”

“What?” Asked Trent, his eyebrows creasing in confusion.

“It’s a riddle.” Stated Ed. “No sooner spoken than broken.”

The two officers looked blankly at Ed and he smiled widely – he loved to best people, especially those in higher hierarchical positions then himself. “Silence.” He declared, grinning triumphantly.

“Ah got me again Riddle man!” exclaimed Dougherty cheerfully. Trent grumbled something in agreement. Ed took this as enthusiasm and kept going,

“My life can be measured in hours, I live by being devoured. Thin I am fast, fat I am slow. The wind is always my foe. What am I?”

Just then Harvey Bullock marched up to the gathering around Trent’s desk, “Nygma! Where’s the Marisson report?!” He demanded before tuning into what was going on, “Not more riddles Ed?! Why don’t you make yourself useful and make a coffee run for all of us if you’re that bored.” Ed’s smile dropped instantly. Harvey seemed to take that as confirmation, “I’ll take mine with no sugar and a splash of milk!”

“Black, 2 sugars riddle man” chipped in Dougherty as he walked off towards his desk.

“Black for me.” added Trent sitting down at his desk with the case folder.

“Best get to it then Ed!” Joked Harvey, “Oh and don’t forget that report as well!” he called back as wandered back the way he had come leaving Ed stood alone. “A candle.” Ed mumbled, answering his own riddle as he walk off, his mood now having plummeted.

He made his way slowly around the precinct collecting orders for coffee. He hadn’t been stuck with the coffee run for a very long time – not since his first year on the job. Usually it was the intern’s job to get them out from under the precincts feet and it insulted Ed that he had to be subjected to the menial task. No one appreciates you here! They wouldn’t even notice if you never came back from the coffee run!

Ed shook away his other voice as grabbed his coat and scarf from his office. You know if you just let me out you’d never have to do this. They would never even think about asking you to fetch the coffee. People would respect you. “Shut up. I don’t need your help!” he growled at the shadowy figure stood behind his desk. Before turning away and storming back out of his office and striding through the centre of the station, everyone ignoring him as usual.

He stopped when he stepped outside, the cold air slammed into him and he wrapped his navy scarf tight around his neck and pulled on his black gloves. He didn’t even know where the coffee usually came from. He would just find the nearest coffee shop, pick up the dam coffee and put the whole situation down to experience –he shouldn’t talk to the officers until the coffee round was done – that way he wouldn’t run the risk of being subjected to this again.

If he recalled correctly from his lunch time walks there was a café a few streets down from here. So he headed in the general direction he remembered, the cold biting his exposed cheeks and the wind tousling his dark hair.

After walking for a few minutes he noticed a small café on the corner of the next road that had a sign reading ‘The Cup n’ Saucer’. That would do.

As he got closer he took in the small building. The colour scheme was dark green and white. A 3 foot high brick wall with large, tall windows made up the two sides of the café and folded metal tables and chairs were propped up along the walls for when the weather was more pleasant.  In Ed’s opinion it looked a bit out of place in Gotham - it was too pretty and picturesque for these dirty and polluted streets.

He walked to the painted white door and pushed it open stepping into a wall of warmth that engulfed him and fogged his glasses slightly. He paused in the doorway to allow his sight to clear, untied his scarf so it hung freely around his neck and removed his gloves, stuffing them into one of his coat pockets.

Once he could see clearly again he made his way to the deep green coloured wooden counter stood towards the back of the room. No one was behind the till at the moment and so he waited awkwardly looking around at his surroundings.

The café wasn’t very busy – there were a few young people scattered at tables with laptops illuminating their faces, a middle aged couple sitting at a table in front of one of the front windows and an older gentlemen sitting alone in the corner with a book in his hand.

“Sorry can I help you?” chirped a female voice from in front of him and he stopped his surveillance of the room to focus on the girl before him. She was a bit of a mess really, but a kind of cute mess. Her hair was tied up in a bun on the back of her head but most her hair seemed to have fallen out and was now cascading over her shoulder in curls. She wore a crinkled white blouse under a dark green apron that hung around her frame loosely. She appeared to be covered in specks of flour and some sort of cake mixture.

“Y-Yes um. Some like it hot, some like it cold, some like it mild, some like it bold.” Ed recited, taken off-guard by her sudden appearance causing him to stammer slightly.

“Excuse me?” [Y/N] blinked at the tall scrawny man in front of her. What had he said?

“It’s coffee. The answer is coffee.” He stated. She looked confused – what was coffee? “It’s a riddle.” He explained quickly.

“Oh… Hang on what was it again?” She asked. Ed blinked – she seemed genuinely interested so he repeated it again. “Coffee, ah I get it. Clever.” She grinned at him. He returned the smile; it was nice to have someone appreciate his riddles for once.

They stood in silence for a moment, [Y/N] trying to store the new riddle in her mind so she could try it on her sister later. She then realised she hadn’t taken the odd man’s order yet. “Oh I’m sorry – sp what was it you wanted?”

“Coffee.” He stated smirking slightly as he dug in his coat’s pocket pulling out a torn piece of paper he had scribbled the orders on. He spun it so it faced her and she read the thin slanted scrawl.

“Wow, that’s a lot of coffee!” she exclaimed, there had to be at least 10 different orders here. “Do you think you might have a bit of a caffeine problem?” she joked, though she was a bit concerned.

His brow crinkled in confusion before he realised he hadn’t explained himself, “Oh no, sorry I’m - I work at the GCPD – coffee run.”

Comprehension lit up her face. “Oooooh. That makes more sense.” She said as she turned to start the coffee machine for the first order on the list.

Ed stepped to the side, out of the way of the main counter as he settled in for the long wait. He wanted to keep talking to the unusual girl but he had already learnt his lesson today about bugging people. That’s because you never say the right thing, chimed in his other voice. “Don’t you start.” He mumbled to himself.

[Y/N] looked up and over at the lanky man – had he said something? He wasn’t looking at her so it obviously wasn’t direct to her if he had. Maybe he talked to himself. She couldn’t really judge him for that – she did it sometimes, it was something she had picked up from living alone. She studied the man out of the corner of her eye as she fiddled with the coffee machine in front of her.

He was very tall and thin and wore a dark coat with a navy scarf open around his neck. He had dark hair with a long fringe that was a bit wind swept from the weather so it a few strands hung down onto his face and across his browlined glasses.

He would be here for a while judging by the amount of coffee he wanted – maybe she ought to entertain him with a bit of chat,  it wasn’t like she had anything else to do - she doubted she have any new customers for a while.

“So are you a police officer then?” she questioned glancing over her shoulder. Ed’s head shot up in surprise at the question.

“Uh, no – no I’m forensics.” He corrected, pushing his glassed up his nose with a long slim finger.

“Ah – dead bodies.” She said simply with a small smile. “Is it also part of your job to fetch the coffees as well then?” she asked innocently. This irked Ed a bit. What was that suppose to mean? He was no menial coffee boy. She is being disrespectful – do something! Put her in her place – don’t let her talk to you like that – she’s only a barista!

“No it is not.” He snapped annoyed. [Y/N] flinched at his sudden change in tone. His eyes had gotten darken and seemed almost swallowed by the shadow of his brow.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to insult you – it was more of a joke really.” She apologised, regretting her words. She turned back to her work, cursing herself silently for her putting her foot in it. Ed’s face lightened at the apology and he could practically hear his other-self growl at his lack of conviction.

“No I’m – I’m sorry Miss. I – I shouldn’t have snapped.” He stammered, “Bad day.” He clarified. She turned back to him at his explanation.

“I get it – no harm done.” She said sympathetically and Ed was surprised again by the young women – she was very forgiving. There’s nothing to forgive! Snarled the voice. Ed ignored it.

By now [Y/N] had produced 4 coffees from the list and they sat in their cardboard cups on the counter in front of him. “Want to talk about it? I’m no bartender, but I’m the closest thing at this time of day.” She joked but he could tell she was genuinely offering an ear if he wanted.

“Thank you for the offer Miss, but it’s nothing really.” He declined politely – he didn’t want to put his troubles on her pretty little shoulders. She looked at him like she didn’t believe him, but she didn’t push. He liked that.

They fell into companionable silence after that until [Y/N] started working on the last coffee. Whilst the machine grinded the coffee beans behind her, she moved to the counter to add a slash of milk to one of the cups and force a plastic lid on the top. “So which one of these is yours?” she asked casually.

“None of them.”

“You mean you pick up all of these coffees and don’t get one yourself?” she asked bewildered.

“Well I – I mean I could. I just – I.” he paused, “I just make my own.” He finished lamely. She looked at him curiously. The truth was he rarely ever got asked if he wanted a coffee when someone went on a run – he was usually forgotten about hidden away in his back office. It was probably for the best, last time he got a coffee it has tasted like tar. He found it easier now to bring his own which he could make in the staff room in his question mark mug.

“I’ll make you one.” [Y/N] declared smiling at him. He looked taken aback at her boldness, but didn’t argue.

Eventually all the coffees were completed and sat lined up on the counter – [Y/N] had numbered them all with a black marker in the order they appeared on the list so he didn’t mix them up. She found a cardboard box she was sure had been from a delivery of sugar a few weeks ago, and placed them all carefully in so the cups held each other upright. She slid the full box across the counter with the receipt.

“Thank you very much Miss…?” Ed trailed off as he pulled his gloves over his slim hand.

“[L/N], [Y/N] [L/N].”

“Well thank you miss [L/N].” Ed smiled as he shifted the heavy box of the counter and into his long arm.

“No problem.” She smiled back as she followed him to the café door and held it open for him. She watched him walk down the street back towards the police station not realising she was still holding the door and letting all the warmth out the café still a particularly strong gust of bitter cold whipped around her.

“Opps!” she muttered at herself quickly closing the door and returning to the stock checking she had been completing in the storage room before the forensic man had turned up. As she walked past the fridge she caught sight of her reflection in the shiny metal and stopped dead. She was a state! She couldn’t believe the whole time she had been chatting with that man she had looked like this! Look at my hair! Look at all this flour! And – oh my god! Is that a piece of chocolate on my nose?!

She felt her cheeks flush red and pulse speed as she quickly redid her hair and brushed her apron down as much as possible. She splashed some cold water onto her face and scrubbing every inch with a tea towel vigorously as if trying to wash away the shame just as much as the baking products.

 Meanwhile Ed had trudging back through the cold wind to the precinct. He had delivered his box of coffee and was now sat down at his desk with his own cup in hand, studying the coffee receipt,  making a mental note to give into reception to get it reimbursed. As he looked at it he noticed there were only 10 coffees listed on the piece of receipt, but he had 11 in his box. The one she made for him hadn’t been charged. Did she mean to do that? What if she hadn’t? Should he tell her? Stop overthinking and enjoy the damn drink! His other voice snapped at him.

He took the advice for once. If he saw her again he’d ask - if she had meant to charge him he would just pay then and there. No problem.

He sipped the coffee. It tasted delicious. It had spicy warmth to it and a hint of sweetness – it seemed to exactly match the girl he had met. Miss [Y/N] [L/N].