Chapter Text
The brisk weather of an early New-York-Monday morning was enough to make you bone-chilled, causing you to hold your arms as humanly close to your body as you trekked your usual route to work in warm, colorful attire. The weatherman on the TV foretold of freezing temperatures later tonight with the possibility of snow creeping around the corner; and as much as you would have loved to stay in curled up under the covers, duty called.
You came upon the front of your beloved coffee shop with a gleam in your eye, the thought of a piping hot cup of coffee quickening your footfalls. Your aunt left you the cozy, antiquated building after retiring, wanting nothing more to do with the business when she met the man of her dreams. You were freshly graduated from college with an associate’s degree in English, heading back for your bachelor’s with an emphasis in creative writing in the coming spring. It was a way to pay the bills and get free coffee and food—a win-win in your book. So, you agreed to the ownership… for now.
The door unlocks with a chipper squeak, the bell hanging above being jostled by the movement. You make sure you wipe your boots off with care on the welcome matt, removing your scarf and mittens to be hung up on the rack next to the enrance. You immediately ease into your morning routine: starting first with turning on the lights, ovens, and espresso machine. You check the thermostat, making sure it’s the right temperature, before unrolling the various rugs placed around the small dining area filled with cozy sofas and small coffee tables. Any leftover dishes from the previous week were brought to their rightful spots, and the pastries made last night were placed neatly on display. With a few minutes to spare before your bakers clocked in, you pour yourself a cup of coffee, relishing in the way the ceramic warmed and chased away the chill in your hands. If you had to associate perfect bliss with anything, it would be this.
The hands on the clock ticked by, with it bringing in employees and customers. One of your favorite workers, Dianna, greeted you with her usual yawn and a “good morning,” heading straight for the espresso machine. You chuckled, taking a sip of your own drink with a light sigh. Monday mornings were slow, which you were grateful for. It allowed you to prep for the upcoming week, filling out orders and making additional bakery items that would be grabbed up by hungry New Yorkers.
Around noon, you and Dianna began to prepare the dough for tomorrow morning. You’re just stepping down from pulling out the ingredients when the chime of the front door lets you know that you have a new customer. Your coworker-slash-employee makes an off-handed comment under her breath that has you laughing as you head to the front, dusting your hands free of flour. The greeting about to part from your lips dies prematurely when you meet a pair of unmatched eyes wise beyond your years that were still so, so young, accompanied by sharp features and a bashful smile.
”Uhm, hello,” His deep, soft baritone voice jolts you more awake than your espresso does. You take in the rest of his appearance, flabbergasted and in awe to find yourself face-to-face with a mutant turtle. Yokai typically did not enter this part of town. “I’m picking up an order for my brother… er, this is the Red Café, right?” His eyes betray his anxiety as he shifts his weight, glancing around for some sort of indication he got the right business. You snap back to your senses, offering your kindest smile.
”Correct,” You nod, appeasing his nerves. “What’s your brother’s name? I’ll check for his order.” He gives you the information that you notice is scrawled down on a piece of far-too small-paper in his giant claws, causing a smile to tug at your lips as you scour the shelves for his order. Upon finding it, you pluck the receipt from the cubicle, turning to face the tall stranger with his bag held in your outstretched hand. “Here you are, sir,” You say politely, watching a smile of his own form at your manners before taking the plastic from you with great care.
”Thank you,” He mumbles, face suddenly looking panicked. “Uh—how much do I owe you?” You shake your head, pointing to the receipt.
”It’s already been paid for, probably by your brother. Not to worry,” You tell him, once again hoping your smile helps in reassuring him. From the way his posture sags with relief, you can tell it does. You maintain eye contact for a second longer, about to offer him something to drink when Dianna lets out a loud gasp right behind you, making you jump.
”OH. EM. GEE,” She gushes, immediately pressing up against your side. “You’re, like, one of the turtle guys who saved New York, right?!”
Your eyes widen. Were you that daft? Surely you would have recognized a public figure such as himself.
”Oh, that?” He gives an embarrassed chuckle, rubbing at the back of his neck characteristically. “It was nothin’… I couldn’t’a done it without my brothers’ help.”
”Wow. Can I, like, take a selfie with you?” Dianna all but squeals, pulling out her phone without waiting for an answer. You grimace, interrupting the conversation before the turtle can respond.
”Dianna, please,” You murmur. “He’s still a customer, show a little respect.” She gapes, seeming to realize her bluntness as she comes down a little from her starstruck awe. Just a little.
“Ack—sorry!” She apologizes, looking to you first, then to him. “I just got really excited—it’s not everyday you meet your heroes.”
”Not a problem,” The turtle chuckles, seemingly relieved at your interjection as he glances at you in thanks. “W-Well, I’ll be off, then. Thank you, uh…” You realize he’s looking for a name tag, and that causes your heart to flutter momentarily.
”[Name],” You dip your head courteously, introducing Dianna shortly after. His relaxed smile is something to behold, you notice, as he repeats your names slowly.
”Thank you both. Name’s Raph,” He tells you with such confidence that the room suddenly glows brighter. He takes his leave shortly after with a small wave, stepping around customers and ducking his large frame out the front door. You take a deep breath in, turning to meet Dianna with raised eyebrows.
“I can’t believe I met a celebrity!” She cheers, clearly still on cloud nine.
”I can’t believe I didn’t recognize him,” You mumble, more to yourself. As the temporary shock of the situation fades away, you shoo Dianna off to continue with making the dough while you helped the next few guests that walked in, mind still reeling at the fact that you just met one of your city’s heroes.
For the rest of the day you work with high spirits, navigating disasters and managing to knock out tasks in between. You wave to Dianna as she clocks out, the bakers having left a long time ago. When you finally lock the door for the evening, you pocket the key and turn on your heel, marching off in the direction of your home. You can’t help but grow curious about the mutant—Raph—you met today and end up consuming numerous videos and articles about the day of New York’s attack six years ago, taking in every possible detail until you fell asleep with your phone on your chest, dreams filled with pastries and giant turtles.