Chapter Text
There are times where you don’t mind your job. Really, there are! On days where management doesn’t take advantage of your go-with-the-flow nature to move you to a department you hate, and days where you work with your favorite group of coworkers and chit-chat through your shift. The work itself isn’t hard, usually… but today has been an extraordinarily horrible day. On top of an already terrible week. In the middle of a long, rough month. Whatever could go wrong during your shift had, you were worn out and exhausted from cleaning up messes all day, and your walk home was a dreaded necessity.
On top of it all, your car gave out Monday morning. The miserable end to a horrible day. All you wanted to do was crawl in bed and sleep through your shift tomorrow… but first you had to get there. It was a thirty minute walk if you followed the sidewalk, and your aching feet nearly whimpered at the thought. You take a moment to double check you hadn’t sprouted wings in the past 5 minutes- nope, you're grounded. Fishing your phone out of your pocket, you double check the walk time on your map app… wait. The route it picked out takes only about 15 minutes! With a pep in your step, you blindly follow the beautiful, perfect blue line until your shoe catches on asphalt.
Turns out, the reason half your travel time had been shaved off your walk was because it was offering you a shortcut through back alleys, behind a strip wall and between a set of apartments. You bit your lip, glancing down at the route and following it with your eyes, deliberating for a long moment. This was a bad idea, wasn’t it? It’s not like luck has been in your favor. This is just too convenient and helpful, isn't it?
You click the longer route, but before you can memorize the path, your screen turns black.
You stare at it blankly.
You double tap your screen and nothing happens. You press the power button once, twice, three times… and nothing happens.
It ran out of battery.
“You can’t be serious.” You say to it, voice shaking. No, you will not cry! Not here. Just… get home, and you can have a little pity party over instant ramen and tea. You can cry all you want in the safety of your home! But without the route, you only have one option… go through the alley. The route from this path is still firmly in your brain.
You’ll be quick. All you need to do is book it, sore feet be damned!
You take a deep breath before stepping into the alley, hurrying along quickly. Elementary school teachers had always told you that you had an overactive imagination, and unfortunately they were right- all you could do was conjure up images of wild dogs or crazy axe murderers materializing behind you and chasing you down. That triggers you to nearly start running, heart leaping to your throat as you run from your imagined doom.
Your concern for what may or may not be behind you blinds you to what's in front of you. A large, four armed shadow steps out of a doorway and directly into your path right at the moment you decide to glance over your shoulder to see if you really were being followed. By the time you turn back around, it’s too late.
You thump into something solid and warm that does not budge at all, and you end up bouncing off toned pecs and washboard abs, tumbling down on your butt and bowling over onto your back. Opening your eyes- you didn't remember closing them- you blink up at the stranger, and as his blurry visage comes into focus, the blood drains out of your face. Oh, you have had rotten luck. Of all the people to run into, you just had to crash into the master of destruction himself!
Lord Garmadon!
He’s like, the evilest of evils! Destroying cities, killing big snakes, stealing candies from babies evil.
He leans down, towering over you on the hard ground. He tilts his head, his sharp teeth visible in the sliver where his mouth is dropped open. His eyes are an ominous, glowing red. They cut through the darkness of night and straight to your core, “What do we have here?” he growls out, glaring down at you.
A lump forms in your throat and your face flushes hot. Your butt hurts, your feet hurt, and your jacket is probably ruined by the gross alley concrete, and now THE Lord Garmadon looks like he wants to rip you limb from limb. You can't help it. You start to cry.
And not some pretty, dainty cry. No! Full snot! Full hiccuping, shoulder shaking, body wracking sobs! The Ugly cry to end all ugly cries!
Garmadons sneer drops instantly, his eyebrows shooting to his hairline and his jaw dropping. He holds his hands up, hovering anxiously, “Don’t cry!” He says, his voice is still gruff but he sounds leagues kinder than before, “I’m sorry I tried to scare you.”
You wail louder. It’s not even about Garmadon anymore. It’s just been that bad of a day.
“No, it’s okay.” you Barely manage to choke out, wiping snot on the sleeve of your jacket, “It’s not your fault, I’ve just had a really rough week, and my car broke down, and work has been unbearable, and my butt hurts, and now my jacket is ruined-”
Two sets of massive hands wrap around your shoulders and, with the ease of a super strong martial arts master and a buff oni offspring, he lifts you up and to your feet. He sets you firmly on the soles of your shoes, and you're so surprised by the action that you forget to keep crying. He pats your shoulder clean of any debris awkwardly, and it only just now strikes you that earlier he had… apologized to you, and now he was trying to brush off any grime from the ground off of you.
“Thank you,” you say, throat still thick with emotion.
He pauses, squinting at you, before sighing, “Come with me.” He doesn't sound happy about his demand, pulling open the door he’d just come from.
There’s no reason for you to follow, but you do anyway. You’ll tell yourself that tonight can't really get any worse so it doesn’t matter, but the truth is that… Well, he was nice to you, and you were curious about what he was leading you too. He’d made it abundantly clear he wasn’t going to hurt you so… You follow him.
The moment you step through the door you realize you’re in a coffee shop! In the back rooms, caramel syrups, sugar, paper cups, are stacked in big brown boxes lining one wall. A big industrial sink is to the right, and when you walk past it you see dirty dishes in the sink. As soon as you emerge into the main employee area, you realize who the culprit is for those dishes.
Garmadon is steeping a tea bag in a plain white coffee mug he’d plucked off a rack, an electric kettle sitting still hot next to him.
“How many sugars?” He demands, and you jump at his tone.
“Um, I don’t know. I can add it.” He shrugs, sliding the saucer and cup over to you before making one for himself. You grab a few packets of sugar and he holds up a spoon before you can ask for one, and you take it gratefully. “So do you know the owner?” You ask as you taste test your tea, grimacing and adding just one more packet of sugar.
He crosses his arms and leans against the counter, “I do not.”
You blink slowly, setting down your cup, “So we’re stealing?”
“We are.” he confirms, “You looked like you could use some tea, so we’re having tea.”
You fish out your wallet, thankful you still have cash and setting a wad of cash on the counters. He scoffs, but doesn’t say anything. “Thank you.” You say awkwardly, “For making me tea.”
He turns his head away and sips at his own cup. In the warm lights of the coffee shop, you realize he’s incredibly handsome. Chiseled jaw, muscles, bright eyes… You swear you must look like a mess right now. You’re certain your face is red and blotchy, and your eyes are probably swollen from crying, and you feel horribly self conscious. You run your hands through your hair hoping to tame any wildness to it, patting at your eyes to at least attempt to look more presentable.
“You look fine.” He reassures you, his voice gentling even more as he watches you play with your appearance, “For someone as down on their luck as you, I’d say you’re looking good.”
At his words your face turns red for a completely different reason, and you sip your tea to hide how your lips are quirking up into a tiny smile. He seems to have noticed though, and when he goes to drink his tea you wonder if he might be hiding a smile too?
“Thank you.” You say quietly, “It’s just been.. Kinda tough lately.” You set your tea down with a clink, trying to breathe evenly as the toll of this horrible month makes itself known once more.
“Do you… want to talk about it?” He asks quietly, the steam from his tea wavering with his words.
“N… No thank you.” You warble, overwhelmed with emotion once more and mortified to realize you’ve begun to cry again.
Garmadon sets his tea down and, after a few moments of hesitation, steps over to you and… at first you're not quite sure what’s happening. For one thing, there are so many arms involved, and then the action just… does not compute with everything you know about him. He wraps his arms around you and after a long moment of puzzling over the action, you realize that yes…
He’s hugging you.
“It’s alright.” He says quietly.
You turn to goo in his arms. It’s not exactly your choice- it’s just that he’s holding you so close, and his arms are reassuring and warm, and you’ve been having such a hard time lately, and well… you fall apart. Just a little. You wrap your arms around him and press your face against his chest, sniffling as you decompress in his arms, all the weight of the past month soothed and sliding right off your shoulders. He uses one hand to run his fingers over your scalp and through your hair, and that feels heavenly and so relaxing you fear you might fall asleep.
You take advantage of the embrace for far longer than is polite before you finally break away, wiping at the leftover tears on your face.
After that, you feel… a whole lot better, actually. Warm tea and an even warmer hug had been all the remedy you'd needed, and had given you a strength and determination to face your problems with new resolve. You just felt… good again. Lighter.
You smile up at him and realize he’s looking down at you fondly and a blush breaks out over your cheeks as you duck your head nervously, “Thank you again… I feel like all I'm saying is thank you. I really needed this.”
“Yes, well,” He clears his throat, scooping up her empty cup and carrying it to the sink, “Everyone needs a pick me up now and then.”
Feeling bright and bold and rejuvenated from his hug you say, “I’m happy it was you.”
He looks over at you with a curious smirk, and his eyes follow you as you walk over to the back exit door. He’s examining you like he can’t quite figure you out. Opening the door back to the alley, you look back at him with a small smile, “I hope this won’t be the last time I see you?” You say, a bit hopeful.
“No,” He says, still with that same fond look on his face, “I don’t think it will be.”