Work Text:
“Hi, welcome to Abrasax Garment Repairs,” Jupiter drawls without looking up from the counter. She finally got out of her dead-end job cleaning houses!…only to end up in a new dead end job tailoring clothes at a bougie seamstress’ shop. She keeps telling herself at least this is a step towards what she really wants to do—work in fashion, someday as a designer—but it doesn’t usually feel like it.
“Umm hi, I have a uniform here that I need fixed—“ a deep baritone rumbles from across the counter, snapping Jupiter out of her retail-induced dissociations.
“I’m here to help you!” she blurts out, before she can stop herself. Sometimes her mouth just runs away on her.
The gorgeous stranger seems equally startled by her outburst, and for the two seconds that it takes him to compose himself, they lock eyes, and Jupiter decides right then she never wants to look anywhere else.
But then the magic is broken.
“Thank you,” the man starts, “I ripped it on duty this morning, and can’t seem to find anyone willing to work with this material, and….”
Despite the soothing vibration of his voice in her ears, Jupiter doesn’t hear a word as he continues to describe the nature of the incident and instead focuses all her attention on the form before her.
He’s tall, very tall, and bulky. He’s wearing some sort of tight, dark uniform, military-like, that accentuates each muscle on his frame. His jaw is sharp and angular, not unlike the rest of his features. Chiseled, aunt Nino would call him.
Except his ears. She almost giggles when she notices them. A little crooked, a little pointed, a little stuck out from his head. How had she not noticed them before?
Oh right, he’s stunning. She was a bit distracted.
Not that the his ears take away from that. In fact, she finds they make him so much less intimidating. Unique. A little goofy. But wholly handsome.
“….and to be honest, I couldn’t figure out how to get all the blood out,” he continues, Jupiter finally reemerging from her reverie into the conversation.
“Blood?”
“Yes, from my wound,” he states matter-of-factly. As if he’s told her this already. Which he probably has.
“You’re wounded! Oh no, let me see!” She comes running around the counter, her hand reaching out to examine the part on his stomach that would align with the large gash in the garment.
He twitches at her touch, and recoils only slightly, but it’s enough to make Jupiter realize just how much she has invaded his space. The smell of her hair lingers in his nostrils well after she has returned to her stool.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”
“Don’t be. And I appreciate your concern, but I assure you, I’m fine. My uniform, however, is not,” he replies, a small smile ghosting on his lips.
“Right, of course. I’ll be right back,” she replies, taking the garment from him and pivoting on her heal, heading into the back of the shop. “Ughhh,” she lets out a tiny groan, as soon as she is out of view. Why does she always have to embarrass herself like this?
Caine stares at his feet while he waits. What a strange, intoxicating woman. He never tells stories about himself, or gives more details than is strictly necessary, but she was just staring at him and he couldn’t help but keep talking so she would keep looking at him. And then when she touched him? It’s not that he’s particularly found of human contact, most of the time he’s rather partial to being solitary, but he can still feel a tingle from where her hands slid across his stomach.
She returns a moment later with a small slip of paper. “It will take me a couple days, but I can have it back to you by Thursday.”
“Thank you, that’s fantastic,” he grins a lopsided grin at her and she smiles brightly in return.
“Can I get a name for the order?”
“Caine Wise.”
“Caine Wise,” she repeats, writing it down on the slip.
“Nice to meet you, Caine Wise.” She tears off the top copy and offers it to him.
He nods and thanks her again, and then is on his way.
Several days later, Caine returns. He’d gotten a call from the shop a couple days prior, letting him know his uniform was ready, but he hadn’t been able to go pick it up until now. He’d been out of town on assignment, tracking down some dumb, joyriding rich kid for his parents.
He shows up to the shop early Monday morning, and is immediately disappointed to see that the beautiful seamstress from his last visit isn’t here.
He sighs and pushes her out of his mind. He needs to pick up his uniform and report back to duty and stop daydreaming about a life he’ll never have. He’s worked for a private security and detective service for the last year, since an incident got him dishonorably discharged, and he hates it but it was an honest living. His first in years. The military was the only place he ever felt like he belonged, but his old captain was kind enough and forgiving enough to help him get back on his feet, and he isn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“Uhh Caine Wise,” Caine starts, talking to the disinterested older man sitting on the stool behind the counter today. “I’m here to pick up my—“
“Caine? Caine!” a voice chirps from the back of the shop. Moments later, Jupiter emerges from her workspace to see the handsome stranger has in fact returned. “I was wondering when you were coming back! Almost thought you forgot about me—it—your uniform,” she holds the garment out in front of herself, and closes her eyes to briefly hide her shame.
“Yes, thank you, I,” he wasn’t actually sure what he was going to tell her, but she looked at him so expectantly, “I was away for work.”
“Oh.”
“How much do I owe you?”
“Forty-five even,” a gruff voice interjects. Jupiter had almost forgotten the eldest Abrasax, Balem, was running the register today. The dour asshole. Caine had forgotten the man was there entirely. And he never forgets his surroundings.
“Right, ok,” Caine pulls out his wallet and finishes his transaction with the stern man.
Before he leaves, Jupiter calls out, “Come back anytime! I mean if you need repairs!” He looks back over his shoulder on his way out the door, just in time to catch the woman covering her face in her hands, a blush rising up her neck.
Two days later Caine gets dressed for work in his newly repaired uniform. He hadn’t really examined it, for some reason he simply trusted the seamstress’ work without even checking.
Now, with the uniform on, he knows it won’t do.
It smells like her.
All day he is distracted and out of sorts. He makes a rash call on a relatively low-stakes mission, and beats himself up over it. Why can’t he get her out of his head? The smell of her seems to have seeped off the uniform and into his skin, because he feels like it’s surrounding him. It’s not suffocating though—more like the way the light shoots out above the water right before a sunset, just blinding and everywhere but also so warm and soft.
Her scent brings all sorts of strange images to his head. Images of her buttery skin, her deep brown eyes, her soft lips.
He has to take the uniform off to concentrate, but he gives it one last deep breath before he throws it in his go bag.
That night in his small apartment he’s playing with his mutt of a companion, Io, when he gets an idea. In their game of tug-o-war, he lets Io get a little too rough with him, even though he’s wearing his favorite hoodie. Her sharp k9s shred right through the sleeve on his forearm. Oh no.
The next day Caine goes back to the shop.
He’s barely opened the door to the shop when he hears, “You’re back!” The excitement in her voice is enough to elicit a hint of a smile before he drops his eyes to his feet, making sure he doesn’t stumble in the ten steps to the counter.
“Is there something wrong with the uniform?”
“No, I—“
“Oh no, did you get hurt again?” Her look of genuine concern strikes him. No one has ever been that concerned about his well-being, except maybe his old captain, but that was his job.
“No. Nothing like that. My dog—she ripped this hoodie, and I know it’s just a hoodie, but,”
“Of course. I have a favorite hoodie too, I get it,” she smiles. Her easy acceptance of him makes him ache strangely.
He’s about to hand her the ripped hoodie when he notices it is completely covered in Io’s yellow fur. Her hand reaches out to accept the garment, but he snatches it back quickly. “I’m sorry, I should have washed it, it’s covered in dog fur,” he scolds himself.
“No worries. I love dogs!”
She takes the hoodie back into the back and returns with another slip.
“The tear is not bad, shouldn’t take me more than a half hour. But you can go and I can give you a call,” she offers, a hopeful lilt to her voice.
“Thank you, but I’ll stay and wait for it if that’s ok.”
“Perfect! Yea, I mean, that’s fine. You can sit down over there if you want,” she gestures to the only bench in the small lobby. He wouldn’t have been able to miss it, but he smiles and accepts her offer with a nod anyway.
With a last glance, she runs back into the back to work.
For a while he just sits, tapping his thumbs on the tops of his thighs. He’s used to wasting time, extended missions, stakeouts, things of that sort. But this is more torture than he’s ever experienced.
He shoots up out of his chair the second Jupiter reenters the room.
“Oh no, sorry, I’m not done yet,” she apologizes when she sees his expectant look, but he remains standing. “I finished the machine part, and since I’m just doing the hand-stitching now, I thought I’d come sit out here. With you. If you were still here.”
“I’m still here.” He has no idea what to say.
“Great. That’s great.”
He gestures to the bench where he was sitting, “You were going to sit?”
She walks over and sits on the bench where he indicated and looks up at him. He awkwardly sits down beside her, his own large size taking up much more than his fair share of the bench. She doesn’t seem to mind.
They sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes while her slender fingers nimbly repair the jagged rip. He enjoys watching her work. The way some of her hair falls out of her ponytail and in her face and she keeps pushing it back. The way her teeth tug at her bottom lip when she concentrates. The way her whole person seems to glow from within.
“I’m Jupiter, by the way. Jupiter Jones.”
“Jupiter. Huh. My dog, the one who did that,” he gestures to the tear she is currently repairing, “she’s named for one of Jupiter’s moons. Io.”
“Really? That’s so cute! I love astronomy,” she gushes. “I bet she’s such a good dog, with a name like that.”
“Not at all, she’s a tyrant,” Caine answers fondly.
“Oh yea?”
“A complete menace. She’d follow you around all day, if you let her, just like her namesake,” Caine admits, before he can stop himself. I’d follow you around too, he doesn’t admit.
“Yea? I’d love to meet her!” She’s not the least bit joking.
Caine is certain she’s just being polite, so he doesn’t follow up.
Another five minutes and Jupiter’s work is done. She tried to go as slow as possible, she was secretly enjoying the warmth radiating off the body next to hers. And the company wasn’t too bad either… For one brief moment she even considered stitching a flaw into her work so it would unravel and he’d have to come back. But she couldn’t do something so mean to this sweet, shy man. She’d just have to hope he came back for some other reason. Maybe the reason she scribbled on his garment slip this time.
Tell Io if she leaves her dad’s sweaters alone, I’ll make her one of her own!
JUPITER JONES 555-5873
Caine doesn’t notice the note until he gets home. He pulls the repaired sweater up to his nostrils and breathes her in. With this action, a paper slip, tucked into the kangaroo pocket, falls out. The tiny script is messy and cramped, but it’s so her.
He reads and rereads the note a dozen times before he decides to call her. He dials the number and hangs up before he even finishes it. He tries again and it nearly rings before he hangs up again. He slams the phone down.
He has survived IEDs and direct combat. He has stormed whole compounds alone. He can’t bring himself to dial a number and talk to a woman.
Why would she want to talk to him anyway? What does he have to offer her? She’s so sweet and kind and soft and bright and captivating, and he is just an awkward mess. He doesn’t do people. He is in completely uncharted territory without so much as a sitrep.
But her smell worms its way back into his consciousness and he swallows his pride and dives in.
“Hello?” A voice on the other end indicates that his call has gone through.
“Umm… Jupiter?”
“YUPITER!” The voice hollers, presumably to get Jupiter to answer the phone.
A moment later, “Hello?” This time, the voice is familiar, like honey.
“Jupiter,” Caine sighs happily. He doesn’t even mean to do it, but something about her calms him.
“Caine! I’m so glad you called!”
“You are?”
“Uhh, of course. I was just thinking about you.”
“I was just thinking about you,” Caine blurts out unintentionally.
“Yea? What were you thinking about?” Jupiter asks, the hope in her voice unguarded.
“My hoodie,” he replies honestly.
“Oh.. Right of course,” her disappointment is palpable, even through the phone. “Is something wrong with it?”
“It…smells like you.” He has dug himself so deep in this hole and he has no idea where to go from here. He might as well dig deeper. “I like it.”
“Oh,” is all she can muster at first, but she swears he can hear her blush through the phone.
The silence is deafening, so Caine fills it with more babbling. “You offered to make Io a sweater?”
“I did,” the normally talkative Jupiter has been reduced to single syllable words.
“Given how much I’ve talked up your work to her, she just has to have a Jupiter original.”
“Oh yea? She should come by the store then! For a fitting, I mean!”
The conversation doesn’t get much less awkward, but the two agree that Caine will bring Io by sometime next week.
The entire week he tries to work up the nerve to text her, to no avail.
That Tuesday, their agreed upon dog-sweater-day, he shows back up at the shop. He ties Io to a bike rack out front and ducks his head in the door to see if Jupiter is at the counter. She looks up and sees him, her smile already spreading across her face and somehow spreading to his too.
“Caine,” she greets him. “Did you bring Io?”
“She’s right outside.”
Jupiter hops up and follows him out the door.
Outside is a huge yellow dog with thick, wiry fur, and the bounciest hind end Jupiter’s ever scene. Even though she is sitting so well, her entire body vibrates with excitement at the site of her owner and his companion.
“Oh Caine, she’s beautiful!” Jupiter bends down to scratch Io behind the ears, and Io licks Jupiter’s face aggressively.
“Io! IO!” Caine shouts, crouching down to scold the pup. “I’m sorry, she’s not usually this affectionate with strangers,” he apologizes. Though, if he’s being honest, it’s kind of incredible to watch. Io is practically a part of Caine, and she has taken to Jupiter so easily, and Jupiter to her.
“That’s ok, I don’t mind.” Jupiter stands back to full height and finds herself inches from Caine.
“No?” he asks, his voice deep and a little breathier than he intended. He’s not even sure what they’re talking about at this point, because she’s so close to him that he feels intoxicated by her presence. Her smell overpowers him and his eyes dart from her eyes to her lips and back again.
“No,” Jupiter replies, her voice slightly strained and her body unconsciously leaning ever so slightly closer, completely ignoring the fact that they are standing outside of her shop on a well-trafficked sidewalk. Details.
“Besides,” she pushes her luck, “I won’t be a stranger for long,” her voice teasing with a slight twinge of lust she just can’t help with him standing so close.
“And why’s that?” He is so close, he practically breathes the question into her mouth.
She considers telling him that she knows he isn’t here for a dog sweater. That she thinks he tore his hoodie on purpose. That she can tell that he is leaning into her as much as she is leaning into him. But she thinks if she calls him out on it, he might get defensive, pull back.
She considers all this, but her body has different plans.
Her lips connect abruptly with his, and the spark that runs through him is more than he knows what to do with. He stumbles a little and blinks rapidly before reaching out to pull her back into a deep, bruising kiss.
They melt into the kiss, the street around them fading away into their own universe of stars.
When they finally break apart, they are wrapped up in each other, tangled by Io’s leash and their own haste.
“I had to do that. In case I don’t get the chance again,” Jupiter bites her lip, staring into the face of this strange man who has consumed her every thought since the first time she heard his voice. She doesn’t even want to think about what would happen if he just stopped coming by her little shop.
A smile blossoms on Caine’s face and he steals another kiss. “Don’t worry, I still need plenty of things fixed.”
“Oh yea?”
“None of my other clothes smell like you yet."