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callboxkat · 4 years ago

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Second Chances: Virgil’s No Good, Awful, Very Bad Week

Author’s note: Thank you everyone for your patience on this! I’m so sorry I didn’t get this out as quickly as I intended. I hope you enjoy it :)

Summary: Things had really begun to snowball for Virgil in the past week or so. And he was reaching his breaking point.

It had started with those stupid nails.

Warnings: Food mentions, rude customers, arguing

Word Count: 4735

Second Chances Masterpost!

Writing Masterpost!

...

Virgil had been having a time of it lately. Seemingly everything that could possibly wrong was going wrong, and he desperately needed a me day. He was going to lose it, at this rate.

His new coworker had finally settled in enough to start being actually helpful, rather than slowing everything down and doubling the number of irate customers Virgil had to juggle, and had maybe turned out to actually not be a jerk, and things had been looking up. But of course, Virgil’s life couldn’t have that, and here he was. Things had really begun to snowball in the past week or so. And he was reaching his breaking point.

It had started with those stupid nails.

…

“Are you freaking kidding me,” Virgil groaned.

There was a nail in his tire. A nail, in his tire. The end of it glinted slightly in the weak sunlight, the rest completely embedded in the tire of his car.

He’d had a feeling about what he’d fine, as the low pressure warning had come on and he’d pulled onto the side of the road, although he’d hoped otherwise. This was the third time this had happened in as many months. Virgil swore someone was seeding his driveway with them.

“Great. Just great.” Virgil fished his phone out of his pocket, glanced at the time—he was definitely going to be late for work, since he wasn’t about to let his car sit in the parking lot and leak air from the tire all morning—and dialed Thomas’s number. Apparently, he and Roman would get to start today’s shift alone.

Rain began to fall, pattering the street. Even more perfect. Virgil cast one more glare at the offending tire before he got back in his car. He slammed the door just as the line picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hey T, uh… were you going to go in today?”

“I wasn’t,” Thomas admitted. “Why, do you need me to?”

“Well, I was on my way to the café, but you’ll never guess what I just found in my tire.”

There was a sympathetic groan on the other end of the line. “Oh, no.”

“Yep.”

“But you just got that fixed.”

“Yep.”

“…Are you sure it’s not just a pebble?”

Virgil laughed. “Thomas, I think I know how to tell a nail head from a pebble. If I didn’t before, I sure should now.”

“That’s true.”

“So, uh, hopefully I shouldn’t be too long, but….”

“No, don’t worry about it. Do what you’ve got to do. I’ll go make sure Roman’s not by himself.”

“Yeah. Um, tell Princey I said hi, I guess. And that if he messes anything up while I’m gone, I’m gonna take his name tag and make him wear my Myrtle one.”

“…You don’t have a Myrtle nametag?”

“I’ll make one, then.”

Thomas snorted. “Alright.” He knew Virgil was joking. Which he was. Mostly.

Getting a nail in his tire sucked; but of course, it if were only the nail that he had to deal with, it wouldn’t have been so bad. Virgil could handle a minor inconvenience. A few minor inconveniences. But things only got worse from there.

…

“Medium chai latte with two cherries,” the woman standing in front of the register said, not looking up from her phone.

“Sure,” Virgil said. They typed in the order, then told her the price. The cherries seemed a little odd, as did the specific request for exactly two of them, but they’d put together some pretty strange orders. And it wasn’t exactly difficult to throw in a couple of cherries. It wasn’t a very expensive drink.

The woman frowned anyway and finally looked up from her phone, clearly unhappy. “But the sign says the chai latte is only—"

THUMP! The loud interruption was accompanied by a gasp and a splash. Virgil spun around, their heart immediately racing. There was a yelp from the side—probably Roman.

“Oh, goodness gracious,” Thomas sighed, one hand on the counter, looking down at the mess he’d made. He’d dropped a gallon of milk—which had been nearly full, from the look of it, and which either hadn’t had a cap, or had lost it when the jug fell, hitting the ground hard. It had, of course, tipped onto its side. Now, milk was spreading across the floor, and there were splashes of it across the bottom of the cabinets and their clothes.

Roman, the only one of the three spared from the splatter, quickly set down the pair of drinks he’d just finished before he could drop them. A bit of coffee dripped down the side of one of the cups. His eyes were wide as he looked from the splattered milk on the floor, to Thomas by the counter, to Virgil at the register.

Virgil also took a second to take in the scene, then noticed the damp feeling at the ankles of their leggings. They looked down, and their still frantic heart managed to sink as they took in their skirt. It was new, ankle length, with beading and embroidered skulls. They’d worn it with a stylishly ripped long sleeve shirt under their uniform shirt, as well as a studded choker with a dangling storm cloud pendant, which had been a birthday gift from Thomas. They were also wearing a they/them pin that they’d gotten from Roman, who’d shown up one day with a set of three pins, looking both very nervous and very pleased with himself. Virgil had still been able to see where the clearance sticker had been torn off—not that they were judging saving a little money. Virgil was 100% sure that the gift was Roman’s attempt to help himself, since apparently the name tags were too subtle. Virgil thought it was kind of hilarious—and maybe a little sweet (maybe)—so they wore the pins.

They had loved the look, minus the Sanders Café shirt; and wearing it had really brightened having to go to work so early in the morning; but now the ensemble was rather soured by the milk dripping from the skirt’s hem and splashed across their shoes. They stepped back to avoid the spreading puddle, as if it mattered at that point.

“Huh,” they said, still trying to get their heart rate to calm down.

Thomas sighed as if in agreement. A few people in line either groaned or snickered, depending on how impatient they were feeling on that particular day, but most weren’t that rude. One person whispered to their friend, “Should we go somewhere else?”

Roman, meanwhile, looked like he was waiting for someone to start yelling. He was eyeing the closet where the cleaning supplies were, but he couldn’t get to it without marching through the milk, and he was visibly hesitating. Probably didn’t want to ruin his shoes. Virgil might have been annoyed, but Roman was the only one who hadn’t already gotten milk on them, so they couldn’t really blame him.

Their gaze drifted to Thomas’s hand on the counter, and how much weight he was putting on it, and the fact that Thomas had also made no move to clean up the spill.

“I’ve got this,” Virgil said, leaving the register and the crowd behind it. A soccer mom who was waiting for her drink made a snide comment about professionalism. Virgil decided her drink was getting made last.

“Thanks,” Thomas said. He watched as Virgil righted the jug and picked it up. The side of the jug had cracked, and they quickly moved to hold the jug at an angle to avoid too much more spilling—not that there was all that much left. It continued to drip as they carried it to the sink and set it down. Then, they went to get a mop. Thomas was feigning casualness as Virgil went, clearly preferring to look a bit like a jerk than anything else in front of the customers, who probably assumed he was just a manager taking advantage of the lower ranking employee by forcing them to clean up his mess. Virgil wasn’t going to do anything to ruin that image if that was the one he preferred, although they did keep an eye on Thomas as they started to clean up the spill.

Roman slowly turned back to what he’d been doing, wiping off the side of one of the drinks and sliding the both towards the waiting crowd. He grabbed one of the café’s popular double chocolate cheesecake slices, put it on a plate, and added it to the grouping on the counter before calling the customers’ names.

After a few seconds, Thomas straightened and walked to the register, and sat down on the stool. Chatter resumed a more usual tone in the café, although Virgil did notice a few people taking pictures of the spill.

Thomas smiled brightly at Ms. Chai Latte with Two Cherries. “Sorry about the wait! Let’s see, one chai latte, with two added cherries. That’ll be—”

The woman was already waving her credit card in his direction. “I know, I know. Here.”

Finally, the spill was cleaned up, and Virgil went to put away the mop. They snagged a bag of chips from the display and tossed them to Thomas on their way. And for the rest of their shift, they desperately tried to ignore the milk still stubbornly set into their skirt and leggings.

…

“Sorry,” Virgil said dully, not actually sorry at all, “Would you mind repeating that again?”

The young man grinned and repeated his very, very long order, speaking fast in a way that could only be on purpose. Virgil was pretty sure the order was different this time than the first. They cast a glance at the camera phone the guy was holding up, which was recording the entire thing, as if this was somehow the thrilling content the entire internet was looking for.

“One more time,” they said. “Please,” they added, because their boss would want them to.

The guy chuckled. “A little slow, huh…” he squinted at their shirt “…Alex, are we?”

Virgil only blinked at him.

He repeated the order. He definitely changed it again, but at least he slowed down this time. Slightly. Virgil typed it in, flashed a customer-service smile that didn’t reach their eyes, and went to make the order, taking a copy of the receipt. Roman was technically meant to fill the orders, but no one else was in the café besides a pair of teens waiting for their drinks. And based on the look the other barista cast Virgil, he had no idea where to start with this guy’s order anyway, even if he wasn’t already busy. Everything the man had ordered was ridiculous and often contradictory, like an “americano” with milk and whipped cream, to start. Most of the drinks had about ten customizations each that made their drinkability questionable at best. The order was rounded out by two relatively normal cappuccinos, identical except that one was decaf, and three-quarters of a cookie (he was being charged for the full cookie). It wasn’t a cheap bill, but that didn’t seem to be a concern.

The man filmed Virgil work, making dumb comments and laughing, and calling out various things that he thought that the barista had forgotten even though they hadn’t, or saying that they hadn’t added enough sprinkles or cherries or syrup, or whatever he could think of. Virgil only checked the receipt and kept going.

When the customer clearly didn’t get the reaction he wanted from any of that nonsense, he instead started berating Virgil’s appearance, saying he hadn’t known he was at some kind of freak raccoon zoo.

Roman looked annoyed at that and opened his mouth to respond, but Virgil shook their head. “Don’t, Princey,” they said in a low voice.

Roman hadn’t looked happy, but he had dropped it, instead heading over to the register, so that he could help the newly arriving customers who would otherwise be stuck waiting.

Finally, the monstrous order was done, and Virgil placed each cup on a tray. Two trays, actually. The drinks didn’t all fit on one. They set the dumb three-quarters cookie the customer had ordered on top of the lid of one of the cups.

“Which one’s the full caff cappuccino?” he asked. “You know, with—”

He went on to list all of the specifications it had, which Virgil tuned out because they didn’t care. They calmly pointed at one of the cups.

The guy grinned, took that drink off of the tray, and set it to the side. Then he did his best to fit everything else on one tray, putting his phone in a chest pocket so he could keep filming. He wasn’t going to win any awards for cinematography. Maybe he didn’t have any friends to film for him. It wouldn’t be a surprise.

The man picked up his overflowing tray of drinks, and then he dumped the entire thing in the trash.

Some of the drinks hit the edges of the trash can’s opening, spilling over the sides; but most of the man’s order ended up firmly in the trash. Everything Virgil had spent the past… he didn’t even know how long putting together. The two teenagers in the cafe looked up from their table, their jaws falling open like they couldn’t believe what they were seeing.

Roman looked even more horrified, but as angry as they were, Virgil simply blinked and turned to the drink the guy had set aside. “Oh, wait. Yeah. Sorry, that one’s actually the decaf.”

The wannabe internet star, who’d been watching their reactions smugly, paused. His face went blank with surprise, then contorted in rage. He turned off his camera phone and stormed out of the café without his drink.

Virgil counted to five, to reset, and let out a long, weary sigh. There weren’t many customers who were that horrible, but they were always a pain to deal with on the rare occasion they did show up. They turned to the small line that had collected during the show, held up by how long the one pointless order had taken. “If you all wouldn’t mind, please use the trash can on the other side of the café until further notice.” They pointed at the other trash can. They’d clean up the other once the line was gone, or make Roman do it.

Speaking of Roman, the other barista was still staring at the trashcan full of wasted drinks. Probably his first encounter with someone like that.

“Next customer,” Virgil called.

“He didn’t even… try any of them,” Roman said quietly. He looked down at the solitary, ridiculous drink left on the counter, and picked it up.

Virgil sighed. “Yeah. He was just here to make a mess for views, or whatever. Don’t worry about it. You can just throw that one away, too—we can’t sell it; and I doubt he’s coming back.” They turned and smiled at the customer before them. “So sorry about the wait. What can I get for you?”

They focused on taking the customer’s order, then turned to Roman, only to see that he hadn’t moved, still standing with the abandoned drink. He looked angry.

“Roman?”

“I’m taking my break,” Roman said. Still holding the drink, he left the prep area, walking stiffly towards the back of the café.

Great.

Virgil watched him go, shrugged, and went to make the order herself. She handed the drink off, then paused to switch the pins on her shirt before heading back to the register.

Some time later, once the café’s line was empty and the trash can had been cleaned up, Virgil walked to the break room and leaned on the doorframe. Roman was in there, sitting on the sofa, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and looking at the floor. The drink he’d taken from the counter sat on a table, half finished.

“You drank it?”

“It was the most normal drink he ordered,” Roman said, not looking up. “And he barely touched it.”

“Yeah, but… it’s decaf.”

Roman huffed, but he didn’t actually seem amused.

“What’s up, Princey?”

Roman shook his head.

“Come on, humor me. I don’t have time to needle it out of you. Someone’s supposed to be out front.”

Roman shook his head, glanced at Virgil, and looked away again. “It’s just a big waste, okay? What that guy did. I don’t—” He shook his head. “People shouldn’t do that.”

“No,” Virgil agreed, still confused about why a few drinks mattered so much to Roman. He wasn’t the one to waste so much time putting them together, and the guy had paid for them. “They shouldn’t.”

Roman took in a shaky breath and sat up, still looking away. “Sorry, just… go back out front. I’ll join you in a second.”

“…Okay.” Virgil hesitated, glancing him up and down, but she did leave.

Roman came back soon after, but he kept acting weird for the rest of their shift.

When she got home that afternoon, Virgil wanted nothing more than to take a long nap and watch some bad television, but someone had backed into her mailbox, and she got to deal with that instead.

…

The next day, the fridge died.

The freaking. Fridge. Died. They had just gotten a milk delivery!

Virgil and Thomas were stuck with a dead fridge and a crowd of customers who weren’t exactly going to leave and give them space to figure out what to do. At least they knew roughly when it had stopped working, since Virgil had checked it when he got to the café, and they’d noticed something was wrong soon after.

Thomas went to the back to make some calls about getting the fridge fixed, and Virgil went on as normal, since they had some time before this really became a problem.

He tried not to think about it too much—at least, not until Thomas returned, looking annoyed and exasperated.

“Tomorrow,” he said. “That’s the earliest they can come look at it.”

“Everything will go bad way before then,” Virgil pointed out, arching an eyebrow. “The milk.”

“Yep.”

“So? What are we going to do?”

“Bradley told me we could figure that out. He doesn’t care.”

“Um, okay, well….”

Thomas shrugged. “Clearance sale?”

They ended up selling everything that required refrigeration for half of the regular price. Some of the less popular items, or items they had a lot of, were even further discounted. The first few customers to find this out were simply pleasantly surprised to hear the prices. Some of them added more to their orders, since they might as well.

And then, news spread, which created a new problem. Soon, the line was out the door, the café filled with customers clamoring for their discount coffee and pastry fix.

This rush, naturally, created more problems. Many of the customers seemed to be under the impression that everything was half price, and Virgil had the joyous task of dealing with many customers who were angry that their plain black coffee or chocolate chip cookies were full price, and who were unimpressed by Virgil’s suggestion that they make their americano a cappuccino or a latte if they were that set on paying less.

Thomas and Virgil were pushing out orders as fast as they could, and still it seemed like half the shop was filled with people clamoring to get their orders filled.

Mass hysteria rose when the café ran out of the popular double chocolate cheesecake. Virgil was beginning to contemplate simply closing the café for the day, cutting their losses, and hoping he wouldn’t get fired for doing so. Possibly the only reason he didn’t do that was remembering Roman’s reaction to a few (well… relatively few) drinks getting thrown away.

At one point, Thomas pulled Virgil aside. “I might need to go home,” he very reluctantly admitted. “This is… a lot. Would that be okay? I don’t want to leave you alone with all this.”

Virgil bit his lip. “Okay. Just… hold on a minute. Stay on the register. I’ll see if anyone else can come.”

Virgil pulled out his phone (which he was allowed to have in his apron pocket, at least as far as he cared) and stepped away from the crowded front of the café, retreating to the back room. He tapped his painted nails against the black, purple-rhinestone-studded phone case, thinking. Talyn and Joan would both be in class, so they weren’t an option. And he didn’t like most of the other baristas. Really, there was only one option.

Virgil selected Roman’s contact, and waited. He’d have preferred to just text—he hated phone calls—but he couldn’t be sure that a text would get Roman’s attention; and that cheap phone of his probably took forever to type on, anyway.

“Hey, Virgil,” Roman said. “What’s up? It’s my day off, isn’t it?” There was a shuffling noise, like he was scrambling to check that he hadn’t gotten the date wrong.

“Yeah—yeah, I know it is. Sorry, but, uh… we kind of have an emergency going on here, and we really need you to come in if you can. The fridge died this morning, so Thomas and I are trying to sell everything we can before it goes bad, and it’s getting crazy. And he’s not feeling well, so it’d just be me here… and—and it won’t like you’ll be losing your day off this week, since I doubt we’ll be able to open tomorrow with no fridge or supplies or anything. It’ll only be a couple of hours.” After that, they’d have to throw everything out.

Roman paused.

“…Please?”

“Wow, you must really be desperate if you’re saying ‘please’.”

Virgil scoffed, but before he could say anything, Roman continued, “Yeah, of course I’ll come in. One sec, I’ll see if I can get a ride.” Roman seemed to freeze, as if he’d misspoken “Uhh—my car’s—it’s in the shop.”

“…Yeah, sure.” That was an obvious lie, but it was neither any of his business nor anything he particularly cared about, especially at that moment. Virgil heard a scuffing noise, then footsteps, then a muffled conversation. Virgil paced the back room impatiently.

“Alright, I’m on my way. Give me like ten minutes, maybe fifteen.”

Virgil heaved a sigh of relief. “Thanks.”

He went out to tell Thomas, who agreed to stay until Roman arrived, although he wasn’t sure how helpful he’d be.

And then a disgruntled guest threw a drink, because apparently it was taking too long to get their wife’s order. Virgil was really going to need a self-care day after the week he was having. Or two. Or ten.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to leave,” Thomas said from the register, looking unimpressed with the display.

“Sure, ma’am, whatever you say,” the customer said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Thomas frowned.

“Bye,” Virgil said pointedly.

Both customers looked annoyed, but thankfully, they did leave. The next several customers were overly nice, as if trying to make up for them. Virgil was not opposed to that, or to the substantial tips a few of them left.

Just under fifteen minutes later, Roman arrived. Another young man came in with him. Virgil assumed that he was a customer at first, but he looked around the café, grinning, chatting with Roman in a clearly familiar way.

“Wow, Roman,” Virgil heard, “is it always this busy?”

Roman laughed. “No, Pat. This is a little… unusual.”

“Oh, that’s good. It looks like a Black Friday sale in here.”

“That’s accurate,” Thomas commented, looking amused, as they came closer. He was sitting on the stool from the register, no longer taking orders—Virgil had been doing that for a while now. He started to get up, leaning on the counter to talk to Roman. “Thanks for coming in. Virge and I really appreciate it.”

Roman waved him off. “It’s fine, I wasn’t doing anything.”

“Still, thanks,” Thomas repeated. He waved at Virgil, then left the prep area, starting to untie the knot of his apron.

Virgil set down another cluster of drinks and pastries, and called the names on the orders even as hands appeared from the crowd to snatch them. Hopefully they were the right people, but if not, well… not his problem. “Who’s this?” Virgil asked, coming closer to Roman.

“Oh, Virgil, this is Patton. He gave me a ride. He’s, uh….”

“I’m his roommate,” Patton said, smiling. “And a friend.”

“Yeah,” said Roman. “Thanks, Pat. You can go home if you want.”

“Okay. Just text me when I should pick you up!” He smiled at Virgil, then glanced around at the crowded café. “Well, I won’t keep you, but it’s nice to meet you, kiddo.”

“Nice to meet you,” Virgil agreed.

The young man hugged Roman before he left, and then the baristas turned to face the mob.

By the time their clock ran out, very little was left to throw away. Still, Virgil could tell it pained Roman when they had to announce to everyone that the café was closing, and even more so when they threw out what was left. There wasn’t much to do about it, though, which Roman understood.

After their disaster of a morning came to a close, Virgil threw his apron at the hook on the wall in the wall. He missed, and the apron fell to the ground. “At least we get tomorrow off, right?” he sighed.

(Of course, this was before he knew that Bradley would ask him to be there when the repair worker came to look at the fridge)

…

Virgil watched a movie in bed that afternoon, but she burned her popcorn, which happened to be the last in the box; and she wasn’t exactly willing to go out and buy a new one at that moment. And the neighbor’s kids seemed to be having some kind of screaming competition.

She wasn’t having a great week.

…

The next afternoon, after dealing with the fridge situation at the café, Virgil finally got to go home and properly relax. No more nails in his tires, no more angry or entitled customers, and no more neighbors backing into his mailbox.

He had barely closed the front door before he was kicking off his shoes and yanking off his Sanders Café shirt (Why had he worn it, when the café wasn’t even open? The best he could figure was some kind of horrible autopilot.) He put his head back and let out a cry of pent-up frustration.

The week was over. It was finally time for some self-care, before he lost it completely.

He put on his softest pajama pants and was about to flop on the couch to watch The Office when the doorbell rang. He would have ignored it, but it rang again. Virgil threw a pillow in the door’s direction. It fell to the floor. The doorbell rang again.

Reluctantly, Virgil got up and went to answer it, and give whoever stood there a piece of his mind. “What,” he groaned, only to cut himself off when he saw who stood there. “…Oh. Hi, Thomas.”

“Hi,” Thomas said. He held up a case in one hand and smiled. “I brought drinks.”

Strawberry lemonade—Virgil’s favorite.

Virgil leaned on the doorframe and looked at Thomas appraisingly. “…You like The Office, right?” he asked.

Thomas laughed. “Storm Cloud, I introduced you to The Office.”

“Hm.” Virgil stepped back to let him in, cracking a grin. “Fair point.”

They watched a few too many episodes of The Office before Thomas went home, and by then, Virgil was feeling a lot better. Still, once he was alone, Virgil treated himself to a nice soak in the tub (in swim trunks and t-shirt) with a wine glass full of his finest purple Gatorade. He even set out candles (the battery-powered kind), put on some relaxing music, and used a swirling galaxy bath bomb that he’d been saving. A book Thomas had recommended sat on a little table by the tub, along with his cellphone in case it didn’t turn out as to be as good as his friend claimed.

Once everything was ready, Virgil sank into the bath, Gatorade in hand, surrounded by a swirling galaxy, ready to let the stress melt away

It was a nice way to end a very, very sucky week.

39 notes · View notes

bazzledazzled · 7 years ago

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Chai Tea

Description: Alyce fic written for @insomnialexwriter for Christmas. Coffee Shop/Supernatural AU

Pairing: Alyce

Warnings: Angst, fluff

Word Count: 3k

The tray wobbled in my grip, the tea cups clattering. My apron was already stained with hot chocolate, tea, coffee, and somehow cupcake frosting. To say my first day of work was not going well would be an understatement. It was a disaster.

I tripped over my own two feet at least twenty times, causing my tray to topple onto the hardwood floors of the cafe. I broke at least ten cups and saucers and I’m pretty sure my manager is thinking about firing me on the spot. My hands shake as I pour a cup of coffee, spilling some on my hands. I intake sharply, quickly putting the coffee pot down and running my hand under cold water, wiping the counter. The door dings, signaling that someone else has walked into the door.

“Be there in a sec,” I say, drying off my hand. I finish pouring the coffee and call out the name for it, not bothering to serve it to the stupid table. I’m alone out here and I feel overwhelmed.

I go to the cash register, setting it up for another order.

“Hello welcome to 12:42 may I take your order?” I look up and my eyes connect with beautiful brown ones and my breath catches. They push their hair out of their eyes, looking up at the menu and I wonder what the little flip my heart’s doing is.

“I’ll have the… chai latte with honey,” they say with a smile. A blush spreads across my face and I gulp.

“Is that for here or for to go?” They think for a moment before saying, “For here.” I fumble to grab the cup and I set it up to make it. I punch in the numbers and say in a shaky voice, “That’ll be three dollars and ten cents.” They fish money out of their pocket, their purple hair falling over their face again. I can’t look away from them.

“Keep the change,” they say, holding out a five dollar bill. I gulp and take the money, squeaking slightly when my hand brushes theirs. They walk off and head to a table, pulling out a laptop and typing rapidly and looking like they’re doing some pretty intense stuff. I then remember that I have a tea to make and I scramble for the ingredients, bumping my head on the counter when I get a gallon of milk from the fridge. I huff, sitting on the floor and questioning my existence.

I finally manage to get the tea perfect and I set the cup on my tray, walking towards the customer from earlier. They look up and smile, causing me to stumble.

Everything after that seemed to go in slow motion. I tripped over the untied laces of my converse decorated with a bunch of fandom junk and the tray flies forward, dumping the tea on the mysterious person. I fall into them, both of us sprawled out on the booth. I gasp, scrambling up, willing myself not to break down in tears.

“Oh my gods I’m so sorry I’m super clumsy I didn’t mean to—“ They laugh.

“Don’t worry. It’s okay… Candyce,” they say, checking my name tag. I blush. They look around.

“Are you here alone?” I nod slowly. They huff.

“Of course you are. Look it’s okay, it’s okay.” I rub my eyes.

“It’s just my first day and I don’t know what to do—“ I hiccup and they put their hand on my shoulder.

“Hey it’s okay. I’ll help you clean up the mess.”

“No-no you don’t need to—“

“But I want to. The names Alex,” they say with a smile. My heart flutters the tiniest bit.

After a long moment of extremely flustered behavior, we pick up the broken cup and saucer and clean up the tea. Alex talks to me, calming my nerves, saying how they like my Hamilton t-shirt and my converse. I blush and slowly start to talk to them about my many fandoms. As it turns out, they have many of the same ones and I grin widely, going off and talking about fan theories and how I write fanfiction. They say they do to, but it’s on hold for their novel. I sneakily ask to have a spoiler, but they refuse to give it.

“It has to be a surprise,” Alex says. I sigh.

“Mmkay.” I finish out my shift and they stay, surprising me slightly. I figured they’d leave after they finished their tea that took twice as long to get to their table as it did to make. Before I knew it, I was starting to close up shop, yet they still sat there.

“Hey uh you kinda should get going…” I say to Alex, who’s the only person in the cafe. They look up.

“Hmm?”

“It’s getting late…” Alex looks outside.

“Shoot my parents are going to be mad.” They gather their stuff, shoving it in their bag and I turn a rag in my hands, nervous. They smile at me.

“Are you working here tomorrow?” I hesitate and nod. They grin.

“Well then I’ll catch you tomorrow?” I gulp and nod.

“Awesome.” They give me one last smile, then rush out the door, shrugging on their backpack. I may be swooning but I’m not entirely sure.

I start to wipe off the tables, putting the chairs up. I’m almost finished cleaning up when a chair falls off the table, causing me to jump. I take a deep breath, walking over to it and putting it back on. As I do another chair falls. I furrow my brow and put that one up as well.

Then they all fall, causing me to yelp. My eyes go wide and I turn to the doors. They slam and a jar of sugar crashes on the floor, shattering. I run to the doors, adrenaline rushing through my body. I push at them and they don’t open. I gasp and the bookshelves start to shake, books falling on the floor. My breathing starts to get heavier and I bang on the doors.

“HELP! SOMEBODY HELP!” I keep yelling until my voice is hoarse, but nobody seems to hear me. I turn around seeing a glowing figure. I don’t know why but he vaguely looks like Simon Snow. I furrow my brow.

But I don’t get a chance to solve the mystery because a book flies forward and hits me straight in the face. The doors behind me open as I fall against them and into someone’s arms. I look up.

“Al...ex?” Then, I pass out.

When I wake up I hear beeping and I bolt up. I’m met with Alex again and I gasp. They push me back down, telling me to calm down. I rub my head.

“What… What happened?”

“You hit your head. I heard you screaming and I thought someone tried to attack you. But when I got there nobody was there.” I scratch my head, trying to remember. I groan. Today has been awful.

Alex sits on my bed, taking my hand. It’s completely strange, having this stranger hold my hand, but it’s oddly comforting.

“Are you okay.” I take a deep breath.

“I think so? I mean I have an awful headache but yeah.” They smile a little and I smile back.

“What happened?” I rub my eyes, wondering if that’s what I actually saw.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I did.” They smirk.

“Try me.” Taking a deep breath, I explain what happened, my hand instantly tightening on theirs as my heart pounds with the thought of it.

“Is it just me or did you just become the introduction of a Supernatural book?” I gasp, a grin spreading across my face.

“You’ve watched Supernatural?” Alex nods, grinning widely. It takes me a moment to process the fact that we like the same book series, and even longer to process what she just said.

“You don’t think—“ I don’t even have to finish. She knows what I’m going to say.

“Definitely.” I run my hands through my hair, gasping.

“Holy freaking schnitzel.” My head hurts. Does this mean that angels and demons and spirits are all real?

There’s a knock at the hospital door and me and Alex jump. The doctor walks in.

“Everything seems to be good here. The FBI are here to ask you a few questions.” I turn to Alex and Alex turns to me.

“Agents Jones and Winchester,” a voice says, walking through the door. I slap Alex’s arm excitedly, just to make sure she is seeing what I’m seeing.

“Would you care to explain the scene to us, Miss. Rayburn?” I gulp, then explain what happened. They nod along, exchanging looks every so often. Alex perks up when I describe how the ghost looks.

“Wait Simon Snow? As in, from Carry On?” My jaw seems to drop even further.

“Okay we need to have a full on conversation about fandoms ASAP.” Alex laughs in an adorable way and I blush. Sam coughs and then we seem to remember that they’re still there. Then we seem to remember that they’re freaking Sam and Dean Winchester.

“Oh my gods you guys are real,” I burst out. They furrow their brow. Then a look of understanding passes across Dean’s face.

“Supernatural.” We both nod, looking at them with admiration and amazement. Then, before we can stop ourselves, questions and questions pour from our lips, all about ships and theories. They look like they feel awkward.

“Uh we have to go….” And then they go.

A few weeks later I was out of the hospital like nothing happened. My parents were a little more protective over me, but for the most part things stayed the same. I had a few weeks off of work, for recovery and stuff, and I found myself grow closer and closer to Alex. We seemed to hang out almost constantly, laughing and giggling about fandoms and ships and weird things going on in school. We liked to bake cookies and scones with each other, our elbows accidentally knocking together a few times on the tight counter space.

Our first sleepover was spent pointing out everything wrong with every movie adaptation of a book ever. To start, of course, we had Percy Jackson.

“Even Percy now doesn’t have a shot at defeating Annabeth in a duel,” I say, shoving kettle corn in my mouth. I reach my hand into the bowl the same time as Alex does and our hands brush, causing me and them to blush. We quickly turn away from each other.

“Exactly,” they say, focusing their eyes intently on the screen. Meanwhile I’m looking into their face.

“Like you can’t just learn how to wield a freaking sword that fast Percy. I don’t care if your the son of Poseidon.” That causes me to giggle and Alex to turn to me, smiling shyly.

“They messed up these movies really badly.” I nod, grinning toothily. “That’s the way of the fandom.”

Halfway through the extreme movie marathon my eyes start to flutter. I don’t know when, but somehow me and Alex started to move closer together, arms wrapped around each other and cuddling. I feel safe and warm there, like nothing can hurt me, no monster or ghost or anything. Sure, the danger seems to have passed, Sam and Dean are gone, but that doesn’t mean that the dreams stopped. I keep remembering being trapped in that room, trying to run away but having nowhere to go.

Alex’s hands softly run through my hair and my breath catches. “You tired?” They ask. I gulp, trying to calm my racing heart and nod. They start to move away and I clutch onto their arm.

“Where are you going?” I ask. They smile a little.

“I know you’re the host, but I’m taking the couch.” I gulp and the words escape my lips before I can stop them.

“Stay.” Something I can't put my finger on passes over their face, and a small part of me hopes it’s the same adrenaline of this weird feeling going through me, but the tiny voice in the back of my mind whispers, “No homo.” I sigh.

They lay back down inches from me, our faces so close that I can feel their warm breath on my face. I blush even more. They’re eyes scan mine.

“Candy… you okay?” Everyone calls me that, but it seems extra special when she does.

“What do you mean?”

“Since the attack.” I take a deep, rattling breath.

“As good as I can be.” They run their hands through their hair.

“Chuck I should’ve stayed.”

“And done what? Fight the air?” They huff.

“I don’t know.” Their eyes flick away from mine and I grab their hands just because it feels right.

“It’s not your fault. Plus the ghost is gone and we’ll never have to worry about it again.” They sigh and nod, smiling at me. That’s when three words slip out of their mouth. They ring in my ears all night.

My eyes flutter open slowly, feeling heavy. My eyes go to the clock, wondering what time it is. It’s three am. I rub my eyes.

Everything is silent and still, the wind outside being the only thing making any noise. I sit up, debating on going back to sleep.

That’s when the TV turns on. The weird thing is, this time it’s on Netflix, playing Voltron. I scramble for the remote, trying to turn it off, but it doesn’t turn off. I get up and try to manually turn it off, but it doesn’t work.

Then, like some horror movie I’ve never seen, a figure starts to emerge from the TV and I yelp, waking Alex up.

“What’s going on?” They say, their eyes locking with mine before they even move. I’m pale and I can’t move and they rush towards me, pulling me into a hug. “What’s wrong?” I point to the figure. It now seems to have taken the form of Lance.

“Lance?” Alex seems confused. Then the ghost or whatever it is turns towards us.

“Why did you kill me, Candyce?” he says. I whimper, confused. From my notebook, sitting on the floor, another one of them springs up, this one taking the form of Damon from Beyond the Pages, a book I abandoned years ago.

“Why did you kill us?” Alex pushes me behind themselves, brandishing a book. Everything is so confusing.

“Why do they think you killed them? They’re fictional characters.” I whimper, not knowing what is going on. We move back and I trip over the table. From the book Alex holds, Simon appears again.

“You killed us. Now we’re going to kill you.”

“WHAT THE CHUCK ARE THEY TALKING ABOUT?” Alex screams, pulling me close. I think and I think long and hard. My eyes fall on my notebook. I gasp.

“What?” I grab Alex’s arm.

“They’re book characters I wrote fanfiction about. Fanfictions where I killed them.”

“Curse you and your insanely good angst fics,” Alex growls. I blush.

“They’re not that good…” They turn to me, their face completely serious.

“Yes. They are.” A lamp flies up and hurtles towards us before I even have a chance to protest. I only dodge it because Alex pulls me to the ground, blushing slightly.

“Sorry I didn’t want you to get hurt.” Now I’m blushing.

“They have to be coming from somewhere,” I say as a new one starts to take form. They look an awful lot like Castiel, yet another character that I’ve killed through heart throbbing fanfiction.

“The journal!” Alex shouts.

“What?”

“That’s where you write all the stories.” My eyes light up.

“You go get the salt. I’ll get the journal.”

“But—“ I don’t listen to their protests. I creep behind the couch, snatching up my notebook. A ghost races towards me and I yelp as it knocks me to the ground. I look around for something to hit it with and my hand flies to my iron necklace. I quickly take it off and hit the ghost with it. It vanishes and I scramble to my feet. I race up the steps where Alex is in the kitchen with the salt and a lighter. We race outside, the cold biting our faces. I throw the notebook on the ground and Alex salts it.

The ghosts come out into the backyard and I hear my dog barking. Alex takes my hand.

“Ready?” I nod and they light the match.

But before they can burn the book, a ghost attacks Alex from behind, their hand hitting a rock.

“Alex!” I shreik. I see blood of and tears well in my eyes. A ghost lunges for me and I close my eyes, wondering if this is how I die.

Then I hear gunshots and they back away. I open my eyes to find Sam and Dean.

“Wha—“

“BURN THE DAMN NOTEBOOK!” I scramble for the lighter and set the notebook aflame. One the ghosts disappear I scramble to Alex.

“Alex!” I scream, my voice hoarse. I don’t know how to find their pulse and I don’t know if they’re breathing. I start to fear the worst as I bury my face in they’re shoulder, holding them tightly. They gasp and relief floods over me.

“Candy—“ they say. I pull them closer, my body shaking with a sob.

“Gods Alex you scared me.” I nuzzle them and they smirk slightly.

“It takes more than that to kill me, Candy.”

A few months later I was still working at 12:42. Alex seemed to visit everyday I was working, making sure I was okay and tipping me a generous amount. I begged them to stop, but they never did.

It was Christmas. Snow was falling outside, painting the scene in a beautiful shade of white. We were busier than ever and I hardly had time to talk to anyone, but today was one of our slow days and I was hanging up Christmas decorations when Alex walks through the door, looking like a goddess as she shakes the snow from her hair and beanie. They look up at me on the ladder.

“Christmas decorations. Sweet.” I smile.

“‘Tis that time of year.” They smile back and go over to the decoration box, rummaging through it.

“Can I help?”

“Sure.” Soon all the decorations are up and I turn to Alex, a cheesy grin on my face that only comes when I’m around them. Quickly, before they can change their mind, they hold up something.

“Mistletoe,” they say quickly before kissing my cheek. I go as red as the berries on the mistletoe.

“You missed,” I murmur

“Huh?” Then I pull them into a kiss.

#insomnialexwriter #theinsidiouswriter #theinsidiouschristmastree #alyce #<333

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mirberry-blog1 · 7 years ago

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10 Amazing Baby Product Hacks You’ll Absolutely Want to Try

Editor’s Note: Babble participates in affiliate commission programs, including with Amazon, which means that we receive a share of revenue from purchases you make from the links on this page. Image source: Babble | Kristen JulesAre you a mom, just staring at a pile of baby products, willing it to (poof!) disappear? Well, before you attempt to harness your inner Marie Kondo and clear them out, let’s talk about a few creative ways to repurpose them instead. 1. Baby Hangers Image source: Kristen JulesThese seemingly innocuous closet staples can get awfully small, very fast. Made to hold teeny-tiny onesies, the life span of a baby hanger will only last you up until age 5 or 6. What’s a mom to do? Convert those bad boys into chip clips! Simply break off the part that holds pants and discard the rest. You’ll never refuse a Target hanger again. And with an estimated 85% of plastic hangers ending up in landfills, you’re also doing the planet a solid. 2. Video Monitor Image source: Kristen JulesTech-savvy moms know that a video monitor is essential to surviving the first few years of life. My son was just 18 months old when he got his leg stuck between the crib bars and howled for help. I sprang into action within minutes and was able to free his little limb. Touted as every new mom’s best friend, video monitors can also prove useful well into the primary school years. As children age, they can be transitioned into a playroom or finished basement to ensure kids are safe while moms get stuff done. #Winning. 3. Baby Wipes Image source: Kristen JulesAh, the versatility of a baby wipe. Plain and simple, these can be used for anything from wiping off deodorant marks to cleaning the oil off a toddler’s hands after pizza — they can be a household staple for years to come. One mom I know even cleans her floors with them when her Swiffer refills run out. Um, genius. And cost effective! 4. The Mommy Hook Image source: Kristen JulesThis might be my favorite “mom hack.” The versatile carabiner ring can be used to eliminate extra trips to the car when carrying groceries. With two small children in tow, I go to great lengths to avoid trekking it back to the car. The self-proclaimed “stroller assistant” lets you haul multiple bags on the hook, leaving one hand free. So, buy those 3-for-10 gallons of milk, mama. Get wild! 5. Changing Table and Baskets Image source: Kristen JulesTypically two or three-tiered, changing tables can be easily converted into toy storage central. Things like blocks, doll accessories, and puzzles can be placed in wicker or canvas baskets underneath the sturdy top. I even use them to store clothing so I don’t have to run up and down the stairs when my son spills something on himself. 6. Crib to Desk Image source: raising dick and janeMost cribs come with the option to transition into a toddler bed, but only if you buy the conversion kit while they still manufacture your crib’s specific make and model. If you missed the boat, don’t fret — there’s still a way to use this pricey piece of furniture for years to come. All you have to do is remove the front, adjust the base to its highest (newborn) setting and cut a piece of particle board for the table top. You can even add flair by covering the top in chalkboard paint and adding suction cup or hook storage units to the sides. Bonus points if you hang a behavior chart or dry erase board! 7. Baby Powder Image source: Kristen JulesTruth be told, this is one baby item that I skipped entirely when my kids were small. With plenty of butt creams on the market, the 16-oz. bottle of powder that came in a basket of goodies from my baby shower had been rendered pretty useless. Luckily, a friend tipped me off to the magic of bringing this old-fashioned baby staple to the beach to combat the mess that sand makes. Simply rub some on your child’s skin and watch the sand roll right off. Added bonus: Everyone will smell better on the drive home. 8. Train Table Image source: Kristen JulesIf you have boys, chances are you’ve owned a train table at some point. Mine held a special place in my son’s heart — and in our living room for years. Once the wooden tracks broke apart and the steam trains stopped chugging, it almost became just another childhood relic, collecting dust and taking up valuable space. I didn’t want to let go, and despite the urge to purge, decided to transform the table into his very own LEGO-building headquarters. All it took was a few classic green “baseplates” and some wood glue. As this next hobby took center stage, I smiled at the tiny city my son had built and felt a major sense of accomplishment. 9. Baby Clothes Image source: Kristen JulesWhile there’s good reason to keep the Penn State onesie your college roommate gifted you, chances are you’re also stuck with quite a few hundred you no longer need. If kept in relatively good condition, there are a number of online marketplaces that specifically cater to selling your kids’ old stuff. I like the simplicity of Poshmark and end up selling a few items in my virtual closet each month. Brick-and-mortar locations like Once Upon A Child also offer this service, but I’ve found that you get more value from the wider online marketplace. 10. Pack ‘n Play Image source: Melissa PelleyOnce your kiddo learns to climb, the versatile Pack ‘n Play loses its charm. Goodbye naptime, hello danger! Enter the “Book Nook.” With breathable mesh sides and its own custom-fit sheets that you can pull over the top, it makes the perfect fort for your tot where he or she can read those board books … or maybe fall asleep in, after all. While these ideas will surely save you money — as well as the hassle that comes with purging kids stuff – the best part of upcycling is getting to hold onto to the products that once brought you and your baby closer together. Now, onto those closets … Related Post 6 Heartfelt Ways Parents Are Honoring the Children They’ve Lost The post 10 Amazing Baby Product Hacks You’ll Absolutely Want to Try appeared first on Babble. Powered by WPeMatico The post 10 Amazing Baby Product Hacks You’ll Absolutely Want to Try appeared first on Baby Based. http://174.136.57.210/~babybase/10-amazing-baby-product-hacks-youll-absolutely-want-to-try/

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mirberry-blog1 · 7 years ago

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10 Amazing Baby Product Hacks You’ll Absolutely Want to Try

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