Chapter Text
“The only thing though,” Pichit said, pouting at his phone while speaking to Yuri, “he doesn’t date clients. Boo.”
Yuri rolled his eyes, and lifted Oreo off his accounts books. “Oh my god Pichit, you already tried asking him out?”
“You haven’t seen him.” Pichit’s beetle black eyes sparkled with teenage lust that sit well in his youthful face. “Makes my ovaries sit up and beg.”
“You don’t have ovaries.” Yuri reprimanded half-heartedly. Pichit waved him off.
“Obviously not, but I can’t say, ‘makes my gonads sit up and beg.’ That just sounds weird.”
“Sure.” Yuri grumbled. “That’s the weird part.”
Pichit’s pushed himself off the counter with an overly dramatic sigh. “I suppose I’ll go open up.”
“Yes, since earning money is a good thing.” Yuri agreed, quickly catching the glass that Pumpkin had experimentally shoved of the counter. Pichit reversed backwards, waving with his phone.
“See ya later, neighbour.”
“Thanks for the contact.” Yuri called back without looking and went to fill the bowls, his feline family meowing and wreathing themselves around his ankles. The bag of cat-chow he’d just bought was still too heavy for him to lift, but he could drag it along, filling the bowls with one cup each.
“Yeah yeah,” he grumbled fondly. “You would swear you’d been starving for days instead of hours. Oreo, get your head out of Crunchy’s bowl.” He nudged the black and white calico with his food, forcing him over to his own bowl. “You’re already fat.”
Once nine bowls had been filled and the shop was blessedly quiet for the short time it would take for the cats to stuff their faces, Yuri went to change the sign on the outer door from ‘closed’ to ‘open’, announcing that. Biscuit followed him, always more fond of company than food, which was why he was so small and skinny. But his pale ginger fur was glossy and his teeth good, so Yuri didn’t worry. He glanced at the cat, tapped his shoulder and held still while Biscuit lithely clawed his way up to perch there.
“So, we need a new baker since the other one up and died.” He spoke to Biscuit, who had draped his warm body over Yuri’s shoulders like a silk scarf, purring. “Pity he was decent. You liked his croissants, freak cat that you are.”
Yuri came around the staff side of the counter and picked up the card Pichit had given him. This was the baker that supplied Pichit patisserie, so it should be easy enough to have him provide for the Cat Café next door to it. He could cook, but people wanted cake with their coffee, not soup and toast.
He dialled the number, and tried to shoo Biscuit away from playing with the little bell token that hung from it when Yuri brought it to his ear.
“Stop that.” He admonished, as the line picked up.
“Uh, you called me.” a heavier voice replied.
“Oh shit, not you.” Yuri quickly covered. “My cat. He’s playing with the bell.”
“The bell?” the man’s voice echoed, sounding confused.
“On my phone.” Yuri explained, giving himself a high five to the forehead. “Starting again, I was looking for someone called…Otabek Altin?”
“That’s me.” the man replied, some vague amusement in his voice.
“Of course it is.” Yuri sighed to himself. Having nine cats around you all the time meant almost never having a normal conversation. Especially with strangers. “This is, uh, Yuri Plisetsky. I’m the owner at Coffee Whiskers.”
“The cat café?” the recognition was instant, which pleased him. “Next to Bakin’ Haven.”
Yuri surprised a derisive snort at the stupid name Pichit had chosen. The place didn’t even serve bacon. “Yes. My friend is the owner there and he mentioned that you supply his baked goods. My baker sort of, just died, so I’m in need of a new one.”
“What did he die of?”
Yuri paused, nonplussed. What kind of question was that? “I don’t know…I think it was old age.”
“Hm.” Mr Altin replied. “Ok, so you need a new baker?”
Yuri regained his momentum. “Yes. Soon. Very soon. Today maybe?”
“Well, “the man mused. “I don’t know about today. But from tomorrow sure. If you give me your email address, I can send you an order list so I know what to make up.”
“Sure thing,” Yuri huffed, absently stroking Crookshanks fur as he barrelled his round belly up on the counter, a black cat with a single tip of white at nose and tail. “It’s c-o-f-f“
“I can’t hear you over the bell.”
Yuri batted at Biscuits paws again and gave him a useless glare. “Sorry. I don’t even hear it. It’s like the shop name, [email protected].”
“Hotmail?” this time Mr Altin didn’t even try to hide his amusement.
“It was a good idea at the time, alright.” Yuri replied testily, having heard this from several people already.
“I didn’t say anything. “
“I can hear you smirking through the phone.”
The only response was a low chuckle. “Alright, I’ve sent the mail. Should be coming through.”
“Great. “Yuri drew breath and saw his first customer arrive, a man he knew well. Older and grey, glasses and definite fondness for cats. Ashes liked him best, and liked to simply sit, stroke his fur and read his newspaper for half an hour. “Thank you, Mr Altin. I’ll send it as soon as I can.”
“I’ll be waiting.” He replied, sounding like he was talking through a smile. “Call me Otabek.”
Yuri’s finger had already hung up the phone but he thought that was a sort of odd thing to say. But then again, all his customers called him Yuri, so.
“Mr Agers.” Yuri greeted, turning his happy to see you customer smile on and facing the old man. “Early today?”
“I have a meeting later, and I wanted to have a coffee with Ashes first.” The man replied, his pale green eyes sparkling happily behind his round glasses. On demand, the smoky coloured cat missing his left ear and a significant amount of tail leapt on to the counter, landing on Crookshanks. The fat black cat didn’t seem to mind, he simply blinked his eyes sleepily and carried on as if nothing happened. Ashes, however, went straight up to Mr Agers and head-butted his chest.
“He’s going to get cat hair all over you.” Yuri said, dipping his hand into the drawer by his knees and coming up with a lint roller. “Keep this for when you leave again.”
MR Agers took the roller, but his attention was on Ashes, a wide, long fingered hand curving over his small skull and pushing his ears flat, just the way the cat preferred. He was by far Yuri’s most ‘broken’ rescue, he’d had a host of diseased fighting each other for real estate on his body when Yuri found him. But in spite of the missing ear, and tail, he’d pushed through and become one of the most affectionate, friendly of his little fur family.
“You know why I like him so much?” Mr Agers asked Yuri.
“I know he likes you because you feed him bacon when you think I’m not looking. “ Yuri replied, leaning his elbows on the counter top, giving the man a shrewd look. Mr Agers had the decency to look vaguely embarrassed.
“Well, I like him because he reminds me of my self. Or at least, how I want to be.”
Yuri didn’t reply, unwilling to interrupt the man’s musings, face open and listening. But the old man suddenly seemed to withdraw into himself.
“I just like that he is so…vital. After everything he’s been through.” He finished off.
“He is.” Yuri replied gently, sensing that a raw never had been unintentionally exposed. “I’ll make your coffee. But I’ll have to get your croissant from next door.”
“fine fine.” The man replied, retreating to his usual table, ashes close on his heels. He had barely set his briefcase and newspaper down, when the smoky coloured feline had leapt into his lap. Yuri let it be.
This was why he loved his job. The cats weren’t just cats. The kind of people who came into his shop were cat-lovers. The kind that understood about cat fur and general mercurial cat behaviour. Well mostly. But when there was a genuine connection between his cats and others, it was something true and special.
He made the coffee, and slipped out to Bakin’ Haven for his day’s needs.