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Someone’s been messing with AuBry again. Tea takes them in to get repaired, and Avery sighs as they see her come in, the robot a few paces behind.
“Again, Tea?”
“Afraid so,” AuBry chirps, apologetic.
“My customers are assholes,” Tea says.
“Man, I don't know why you don't just get another one.”
“If I had the money for a new Automated Barista I wouldn't need to run a shitty coffee shop,” Tea says, and Avery just sighs again instead of making the comment she knows they want to make about how the amount she spends repairing AuBry, replacement would be cheaper.
She goes straight to The Weightless. It’s not like she’s got much else to do, which would have been a depressing thought, like, ten years ago, but Tea is more than okay with the fact that her life is pretty calm, these days. She chose this life, as much as she had any kind of choice after she was discharged. She chose this.
She has to remind herself of this more than once over the next few hours. Without AuBry, Tea has to make all the drinks herself on the old-fashioned machine, and there’s no one to leave in charge when her nerves and patience are stretched thin. Some asshole just had to go and mess with AuBry’s wiring, or something, and now the only thing they can make is caramel lattes. Tea hates caramel lattes. She half-suspects the asshole did it on purpose, but no one knows her well enough to hold a grudge, here. No one knows who she is at all, and, mostly, she likes it that way.
“No AuBry?” one of the regulars, a pretty red-haired woman named Sarai asks, and Tea makes a face. Sarai looks sympathetic, and adds some extra credits to her tip when she pays for her coffee.
“Thanks,” Tea says, and wishes, not for the first time, that she could think of something witty and charming to say.
Fuck, even something half-sensible would do, but Tea is no good at this, at turning friendly encounters into something more. When something more has happened, it’s been by accident, or because the other person initiated it. Tea isn’t beyond wishing for happy accidents.
*
It seems the universe is not smiling upon Tea Kenridge, lately, because what she gets is pretty much the exact opposite of a happy accident.
“Uh,” Natalya Greaves says, “hi?”
Of all the shitty coffee shops on this shitty planet, Natalya had to walk into hers.
“Hi,” Tea says shortly. Natalya blinks at her. “What can I get you.”
“Black tea,” Natalya says, then, an afterthought, “please.”
“We don’t do tea,” Tea says.
AuBry, beside her, says, “We have seven different kinds of tea, eight if you count our very own Tea Kenridge!”
Tea glowers. Natalya clears her throat.
“I can have something that isn’t tea,” she offers. “Do you do… coffee?”
“Of course!” AuBry chirps. “How would you like your coffee?”
“I’ll have a cappuccino, please,” Natalya says. “Thank you.”
“I’m very sorry,” AuBry says, “but this might take a little time. I was out of commission for a while, and I’m rusty.”
It does take longer than it should, and Natalya seems pretty focused on watching the liquid pour out of AuBry’s midsection into the cup they placed there, but Tea still feels-
She doesn’t know what she feels. Hollow, maybe. Tired. An ache like poking at an old wound.
“I need to go,” Tea says, and AuBry says, cheerful as always, “See you later,” as Tea shifts past them. Natalya doesn’t say goodbye.
Tea doesn’t know where she’s going. Tea isn’t really going anywhere, actually, just in the vague direction of away from there. It’s not Natalya. It’s just-
Shit, she doesn’t have to justify this to herself. She just needs some air, sometimes, even if it’s the shitty polluted fog COUNTER/Weight has to offer. It’s not that she ever forgets about the war, but sometimes it bears down heavier than usual, and this is just- this is just one of those times.
She comes back an hour later, notes with detachment that Natalya has left. Tea lets out a short breath.
AuBry wheels over to her, says, “You’re back! How was your break?”
“Fine,” she says, then, “Thanks for holding things down while I was gone.” It seems kind of weird to thank a robot for following their programming, but also strangely appropriate. Tea is grateful.
“Of course,” AuBry says. There’s a beat, and then, “Did I do something, wrong, Tea,” she says, “earlier, with that woman?”
Tea sighs. “No,” she says. “No, you were fine.”
AuBry’s screen flickers in that way it sometimes does, which Tea fancifully thinks of as thoughtful. “You’re not fine, though,” they say, and Tea shrugs.
“Used to know her,” she says. “We fought together in the war. I think we were on the same side. It got hard to tell, near the end.” She shrugs again. “She’s a spy, so.”
“Oh,” AuBry says, “I see,” and their screen flickers again, a longer pause, this time. “I can poison her next drink, if you like,” they say, in that same chirpy, hospitality-industry-approved voice, and Tea laughs.
“Thanks,” she says, “but I doubt we’ll be seeing her again.”
*
Of course, because this is the hand the universe has dealt her, not two days later, Tea comes into work and sees Natalya in one of the tiny booths, sipping a space cappuccino like it's normal, like it's totally fine that she's here.
Tea wants to turn on her heel and walk straight back out, but that’s bullshit, and she won’t be made to be feel like this in her own fucking space. She grits her teeth.
“You’re here for nothing,” she says, throwing herself into the seat opposite Natalya. She looks up, looking genuinely confused. “I’ve got a new life now.”
“New lives all round,” Natalya says evenly. “I left all that behind, too.”
“If that’s true,” Tea says, the tone of her voice making it clear how much she believes that, “why are you here?”
Natalya lifts her cup, holds it out like she’s toasting Tea’s nonexistent drink. “It’s good coffee.”
“It’s pisswater,” Tea says, “only Consolation Cafe’s is worse,” and Natalya laughs. Natalya has a nice laugh, low and kind of sweet. Tea can’t remember if she’s heard it before.
“So what do you do,” she says, “if you’re not a spy any more. What are you doing on fucking COUNTER/Weight, of all places.”
Natalya looks at her with eyes that have always seen too much. “Could ask you the same thing.”
“You could,” Tea says, and nothing else. Natalya smiles.
“I work for Snowtrak now,” she says, gives it up too easily for it to be the whole truth, and, screw it, Tea’s curious. She can't help but be curious.
“What does Snowtrak need with a spy?”
“Former spy,” Natalya stresses, but there’s a smile on her face, something that looks genuine. “We’ve found something, or at least the people with the money think we’ve found something. I’m working with some people here to try and figure out what it is.”
“Mysterious,” Tea says, and smirks. “So you’re a miner now?”
“I’m a research scientist,” Natalya says, “and you can’t talk, you have a fucking coffee shop. How did that happen?”
Tea shrugs. “People always need coffee.”
“Mysterious,” Natalya echoes, and Tea finds herself smiling, too.
*
Natalya becomes another one of Tea’s regulars, and it should be weirder than it is, probably. Tea doesn’t know where Natalya grew up or where she calls home or if that’s even her real name, Natalya Greaves, but she knows the names of all her coworkers, her favourite character in Hieron, and, of course, just how she likes her coffee.
Tea gets used to seeing her in the same tiny booth at the back of the shop, lounging in her immaculate three piece suit, frowning down at the work she’s brought with her. She never seems to be able to just sit there and do nothing.
It’s in Tea’s best interest to go and sit with her, interrupt her train of thought, start a conversation, get her to order another drink to replace the one that’s long gone cold. AuBry could do it, probably. AuBry’s very good at charming people into spending money they don’t really have; it’s part of the package. But Tea’s self-aware enough to realise that this is something she wants to do, and self-aware enough to not want to examine any further.
*
It’s late, and the shop’s about to close, and Natalya is still here, resting her head in one hand and holding her long-empty cup of tea in the other. AuBry’s politely chased out all the other stragglers, but they pointedly avoided that end of the room, hummed at Tea as they passed her on their way back.
Tea slides into the seat opposite Natalya, a common enough occurrence by now that Natalya doesn’t look up.
“Don’t you have anywhere else to go?” Tea asks, and it comes out a lot softer than it sounded in her head.
Natalya looks up, then, and Tea doesn’t know what honesty looks like on her, but if she had to guess, she’d say it looked like this.
“No, actually,” she says.
Tea’s no good at this, can’t find the right thing to say, but she reaches across the table and peels Natalya’s cup out of her hand, finger by finger.
“You’re always welcome here,” she says, “but I do need to go home at some point.”
“Shit,” Natalya says, starts frantically gathering her things. “I’m that asshole, aren’t I? Sorry, I’ll just-”
“It’s fine,” Tea says. It wouldn’t be if it were anyone else, but Natalya isn’t anyone else.
She’s going soft. She’s fucking going soft, but Tea thinks, probably, there are worse things to be.
*
Natalya doesn’t come in the next day, and Tea doesn’t think anything of it, at first. She might glance at the door every other time it opens, trying not to hope, but that’s nothing new, and AuBry, polite as ever, doesn’t mention it.
A week goes by with no sight of her. AuBry says, apropos of nothing, “I’m sure she’s fine,” and Tea snaps at them without thinking, immediately feels wretched.
Three weeks go by, and Tea- there’s just a lot of things that could have gone wrong. It’s not strange for her to be worried.
It’s the end of the fourth week, and Tea is tired right down to her bones, and fucking hardly anyone came in today. They’re barely making enough to keep the lights on. The old-fashioned coffee machine has been switched off for days.
“Close up,” Tea says to AuBry. “Fuck this shit.”
AuBry hovers for a second, two, and then, “Yeah,” they say, softer than Tea’s ever heard them.
She starts cleaning up, just the worst of it, just the things she can’t bear leaving for tomorrow’s Tea. A snot-nosed executive insisted on tasting their drink first, made a face, threw it down on the counter to spill everywhere, left without paying. Tea’s scrubbing uselessly at the long-dried stains when she hears the door open.
“We’re closed, asshole,” Tea shouts, grabbing a broken table pole and whirling around. “AuBry, you were supposed to- oh.”
“Please,” Natalya says, and her face is an open wound. “I know you don’t owe me anything, but I’ve nowhere else to go.”
*
Tea has a tiny apartment on the outskirts of town. It’s billed as one of those compact homes, everything you could need right within your reach, except room to breathe. There’s an equally compact bed, and no floor space to speak of, but if Natalya is bothered by this, she shows no sign of it.
In fairness, she’s not showing a lot of signs of anything at all. Something is wrong. Something is terribly, terribly wrong and Tea doesn’t know how to ask, if she even wants to know.
Tea sleeps naked, normally, but she pulls on an old t-shirt, finds one for Natalya as well. Natalya’s turned away, giving Tea privacy, and Tea throws it at her head.
“Unless you wanna sleep in your suit,” Tea says, and Natalya cracks the tiniest smile. It feels like a victory.
Tea returns the favour, busies herself at the sink pouring Natalya a glass of water while Natalya changes, and when she turns around, Natalya is sitting under the covers, back straight, hands in her lap. She looks peaceful. She looks frozen.
Tea puts the glass in her hands, gets into bed next to her. It’s perversely domestic. Tea hates herself for thinking it.
They lie down on the bed, facing each other, bare knees touching, eyes not quite meeting. It’s still far too intense, with the way Natalya is holding herself so still, and Tea thinks about turning away, but then they’d be spooning, and that would be- shit. No. Just fucking no.
“What can I do?” Tea says. She hates this wretched impotence, this terrifying insufficiency.
Natalya hitches a breath. “I’ve already asked for so much,” she says, “Tea, I-”
“Shut up,” Tea says. “What can I do.”
Natalya looks right in her eyes and says, “Hold me?”
Tea moves without even thinking about it, slides an arm under Natalya’s neck and wraps the other around her back. Natalya shakes like she’ll never stop. There’s a sound like a sob, muffled by Tea’s chest, but no others follow.
Tea knows what to do here. She’s not a naturally tactile person, but Jace really was; she picked up a few things. She strokes Natalya’s back, down her side, scratches her fingers up into Natalya’s hair. Natalya’s breathing gradually evens out.
Tea thinks maybe she’s fallen asleep, and is about to gently disentangle herself, when Natalya says, “I’m still a spy.”
“Of fucking course,” Tea says without thinking. She bites her lip right after, but Natalya just huffs a breath, moves away so that she can look at Tea, not far enough that Tea would break her hold.
“The Rapid Evening were interested in what Snowtrak had found, so they sent me in.” Her eyes close and she says, on an exhale, “They should have just shut it the fuck down.”
“What did you find,” Tea asks. Terror has made a home in her gut. She has to know.
“Something old,” Natalya says softly. “Something that was never supposed to be found. It’s- fuck, Tea. It’s gonna destroy us all.”
“Does it know you’re here?”
“No,” Natalya says immediately. “I wouldn’t have come here- I wouldn’t have put you in danger- no.”
Tea doesn’t correct Natalya’s assumption. “So what’s the plan?” she asks, reaching through her brain to pull out confidence, assurance. Attack the problem head on; find a solution.
Natalya shoulders move in a helpless shrug. “I couldn’t send word. It’s in all our systems, I couldn’t risk- no one else knows. I couldn’t get anyone else off Ionias.”
“You’re here now,” Tea says, her grip on Natalya tightening. “You’re here, and you’re alive, and you can fight this, whatever it is.”
“Rigour,” Natalya says softly. “Its name is Rigour.”
She takes a deep breath, then another. When she speaks, it’s with great effort, but there’s something of the Natalya Tea knows in her voice.
“I do have kind of a plan,” she says, “but you’re not gonna like it.”
Tea wracks her brain for a moment, then snorts. “As long as it’s not fucking Ibex.”
Natalya laughs, says, “Well,” and Tea’s eyes widen.
“You’re shitting me,” she says, and Natalya laughs even harder, the tension leaving her for the first time. It’s a little on the wrong side of hysterical, and there are tear tracks on her face, and she’s still shaking in Tea’s arms, but she’s beautiful.
Tea pushes the thought away easily; it’s hardly the first time.
*
There’s a moment when Tea wakes where she has no idea what’s going on, why there’s a warm weight against her, hair tickling her face. Tea is lost in it, drowsy and content, but it’s only a moment.
*
“Commander Kenridge,” Ibex says. “It’s been too long.”
Tea’s scowl lengthens. She suggested Natalya meet Ibex at The Weightless, neutral ground, and she’s already regretting it. Ibex couldn’t look more out of place, and yet she’s the one who feels unnerved.
“Natalya’s over there,” she says. “Don’t cause a scene.”
Part of her wanted to sit down with them, be involved, but this isn’t her business and she doesn’t want to make it her business. This might be worse, though, standing at the opposite end of the room and quietly fuming.
“Do you need to go out for a while?” AuBry asks, and Tea startles. AuBry can be oddly perceptive; it must help with the programming.
“That man over there,” she says. “Make sure he-” She breaks off, not sure how to finish. “Make sure Natalya’s okay. I can’t be in the same room as him or I’m going to strangle him.”
“That bad?” AuBry says mildly, and Tea says, over her shoulder, “Remind me to tell you about the war, sometime.”
She walks. She walks and walks and doesn’t think about where she’s going and walks. Tea is good at keeping busy, at taking action, at doing, but thoughts of Rigour creep in, anyway. The fear is inside of her now, and it hums.
Ibex is gone by the time Tea returns. Natalya is behind the counter, serving a customer, and Tea raises her eyebrows.
“Sorry,” Natalya says, hurrying out, “AuBry was swamped and I-”
“It’s fine,” Tea says. Of course it’s fine; Tea’s not in a position to turn down free labour and, regardless, she understands the need to be busy. “How’d it go with Ibex?”
“I was right to contact him,” Natalya says. She’s plucking at the shirt she’s wearing; one of Tea’s, because obviously she had no other clothes of her own. It’s slightly too small for her, fits snugly on her arms and chest, a fact Tea wishes she didn’t notice. “He was cagey about the specifics, but this, Rigour, it’s… well, let’s just say it’s far more in his wheelhouse than ours. There’s this group, The Chord, or something? They’re going to handle it.”
Tea nods. “I thought you were gonna go with him,” she says, because it feels safer than I thought you wouldn’t be here when I came back.
“He said I should take a break,” Natalya says, and Tea doesn’t want to admit that she ever agreed with Ibex about anything, but the look on Natalya’s face is worse.
“This isn’t your responsibility,” Tea says. “You don’t have to deal with it.”
“We dug it up,” Natalya says, her voice wavering, “and I knew, I knew there was something terrible, and I still-”
“If it weren’t you, it would’ve been someone else,” Tea says. “It’s still fucked, but the lion’s share of the blame is not on you.”
“I could still help,” Natalya says. “I could still do something.”
“You’re one person,” Tea says. “Ibex has a fucking Divine inside of him. Let him deal with it.”
Natalya cracks a smile. “Think that’s the first time I’ve heard you say that,” she says, purposefully light.
“And it’ll be the last,” Tea says, just as light. “Now will you go back to my place and get some sleep? Your dark circles have dark circles.”
Natalya looks startled. “I was going to-” She breaks off and breathes something that might be a laugh. “I don’t know what I was going to do, but I- you’ve done enough. I can’t-”
“Shut up,” Tea says, “you absolutely can, what do you think I’m gonna do, just turf you out on the street? I’m not that heartless.”
Natalya bites her lip, and when Tea throws her keychain at her, she catches it in both hands.
*
Later, when Tea gets home, using her bios in place of her keycard, she finds Natalya curled up on the bed, one hand fisted in the sheets. She wakes as soon as Tea gets in beside her; she must be a light sleeper.
“Sorry,” Tea whispers, and Natalya shakes her head, reaches out to groggily pat Tea’s shoulder. At least, Tea assumes Natalya was going for shoulder; she ends up with Tea’s neck instead, and her hand curls around it, lingers there. Tea doesn’t shake her off.
*
“How about this,” Natalya says, “admin work, flexible hours, free coffee.”
Tea leans over to look at the job posting Natalya’s got up. “Sure, if you want to be paid only in coffee,” she says, pointing at the small print. Natalya peers at it for a second, then sighs heavily.
Natalya isn’t with the Rapid Evening any more, and Tea believes it, this time, because Natalya is flat broke and is scouring the worst of the job boards to find any kind of employment. She’s either overqualified or has no relevant experience, and she’s starting to get desperate.
She’s at The Weightless pretty much every day, now. The place is cleaner than it’s ever been. She’s abandoned her customary booth in favour of a seat behind the counter, and she jumps up to deal with customers before Tea has a chance. She’s better at it than Tea, a fact Tea notes with no resentment or jealousy; Natalya’s just better at people than she is.
The only reason she’s not officially an employee is because Tea can’t afford to hire her. It makes something turn in her stomach to think that she’s no different from that shitty corporation, right down to the free coffee.
“I don’t think it’s quite the same,” AuBry says, when Tea says as much to them. She needs to confide in someone, and she doesn’t exactly have many friends.
“I don’t pay you either,” Tea retorts, doesn’t fight the need to be combative. AuBry goes silent.
“I’m an Automated Barista,” they say, finally. “Robots don’t get paid.”
Natalya touches her shoulder. “Hey,” she says softly, “are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Tea says. She hates that she can’t make her voice sound normal.
“You can go home, if you need to,” Natalya says. “I can handle things here.”
“Stop-” Tea presses her knuckles into her eyes. “You don’t need to do this.”
“If you’re gonna say I don’t need to pay you back,” Natalya says evenly, “you’re wrong, but that’s not what this is. I just- like being here. I like being able to help.”
“You could be doing anything,” Tea says, “anything in the goddamn world, and you’re stuck here.”
Natalya frowns. “Are you still talking about me?”
“Of course I am,” Tea snaps. “I chose this. You didn’t.”
Natalya’s frown deepens, and then something happens to her face, wiping it clean. “If you want me to leave, I can leave.”
“I don’t,” Tea says, still angry, but anger is safer than what’s over the edge of the precipice.
The thing is.
The thing is that Tea sleeps next to Natalya every night and they curl around each other more often than they don’t. Natalya wanders around in Tea’s shirts and boxers and plays music that Tea couldn’t stand until suddenly she was humming all the melodies. Tea’s place isn’t big enough for both of them but it’s definitely not big enough for this thing that just keeps growing, every time Natalya smiles, or touches her, or looks at her like she’s something precious.
“I need to go,” Tea says abruptly. “I- thank you. For taking care of things here.”
“Any time,” Natalya says, and her face is still blank, but she still sounds like she means it.
*
Tea’s alone at the counter, for once, when Sarai comes in. It’s been a while, but her heart still flutters when Sarai smiles at her. It’s a quiet day, and Natalya’s wearing one of Tea’s favourite shirts, and Tea is tired and lonely.
“Hey,” she says to Sarai, “is it cool if I sit here? I need a break from-” She gestures in a vague, all-encompassing sort of way, and Sarai smiles.
“Of course,” she says. “Not a lot to take a break from, though.”
Tea grimaces. “Yeah, that’s kind of the problem,” she says. “Got nothing to do but think about how I’m literally losing money right now.”
“Ouch,” Sarai says, and Tea shrugs.
“Distract me?” she says, and she doesn’t know if it’s the right thing to say, but Sarai’s face lights up anyway.
It turns out she’s a lawyer, property law, and she’s working on an eviction case at the moment, and Tea’s stomach turns, but she’s representing the defendant, and it actually looks like they might win this thing, Tea; for once, things might actually shake out right.
“That’s really fucking cool,” Tea says honestly, and Sarai grins.
A bunch of people come in, and Tea makes a face at Sarai, who laughs, before she gets up to deal with them. They’re a bunch of teenagers with very specific orders, and by the time Tea is done, Sarai’s left. Tea’s a little disappointed, but the feeling’s quickly eclipsed when she looks around and notices that Natalya’s gone, too.
“Hey,” she says to AuBry, “is Natalya around?”
AuBry makes a humming noise that Tea tries not to think sounds disapproving. “She went home.”
Tea thinks about correcting them, then realises there’s nothing to correct. It’s Natalya’s home as much as it is Tea’s, now, and the thought terrifies and thrills her in equal measure.
“Fair enough,” she says, “thanks.”
AuBry makes another humming noise. “I think you should go after her.”
Tea frowns. “Is she okay?”
“I think you should go and check.”
It doesn’t sound like a suggestion. Tea looks at AuBry for a second, then shakes her head and leaves.
Natalya’s packing a bag when Tea opens the door. Her eyes go wide.
“Hey,” Tea says, “what the fuck?”
“Hi,” Natalya says, flustered. It’s a strange look on her; she doesn’t suit it. “I’ve found a place to live. Rent-free in exchange for doing the cleaning. It’s not a bad deal, really.”
“Right,” Tea says. “That’s. Sudden?”
Natalya shrugs. “This was always the plan,” she says. “I’m not gonna stay here forever.”
“Why not?” Tea says, and she’s right on the edge of the precipice but Natalya is leaving and everything is wrong. She’s got so used to her life with Natalya in it; she doesn’t want to get used to a life without her.
Natalya’s face shifts. She looks- angry, almost, and kind of sad, but a moment passes and her expression clears.
“This was always the plan,” she repeats. “I’ve stayed too long. I’ve been taking advantage- don’t say I haven’t been. You need space. You need privacy. You need, fuck, you need to be able to take people home.”
“Don’t fucking tell me what I need,” Tea snaps, and then her brain catches up with what Natalya actually said. “Wait, what?”
Natalya presses her lips together. “I won’t be in the way any more,” she says.
“You’re not in the way,” Tea says. She doesn’t understand why Natalya is being like this all of a sudden. They have something good, here. She thought they had something good. “Stop- stop telling me how I should feel about you. I told you I wanted you to stay.”
“What if I don’t want to stay,” Natalya says quietly. “What if I can’t watch you fall in love with someone else.”
Tea’s breath catches. Her heart starts to pound.
“Someone else?”
“You fucking fool, Tea Kenridge,” Natalya says, “do I have to spell it out for you?”
“That would be kinda helpful, yeah,” Tea says, unable to stop her stupid mouth. She bites her lip. “You never said anything.”
“I’ve asked for so much from you,” Natalya says, tired. “I wasn’t gonna ask for this too.”
“You’re the fucking fool, then,” Tea says, and kisses her.
Natalya’s all corded tension barely strung together, and she shakes when Tea touches her. Tea holds on, firm but gentle, and Natalya sighs into her mouth, sags against her. Tea wraps both hands around her waist and levers her onto the bed, lies down next to her, doesn’t let go.