Chapter Text
You really couldn't say why you started noticing him, at first.
The cafe you frequented wasn't ever truly busy; it was just small enough to be cozy, but big enough that the few regulars who always came around were always able to seat themselves well enough away from any of the other patrons. That's part of why you liked the place so much; it was your little pocket of heaven in the elbow-to-elbow bustle that was New York City.
That, and it was one of the few places within walking distance of your apartment that offered quality caffeinated drinks well into the late hours of the evening. It made for a great place to stop in and work while you whittled away another night that proved to be sleepless. If insomnia was going to be a bitch, then you were at least going to try and get something out of it.
The cherry on top to Monaco's cafe, however, was Jam and Jelly, two strays-turned-pets that the Miss Monaco and her small team of part-time baristas cared for. Two beautiful cats, one an American Shorthair with shining black fur, the other a regal Siamese that you still can't figure how it had ended up on the streets in the first place. You had never really checked, but you were used to cats like those costing a pretty penny and only being accessible via a social media account managed by their fairly well-off owners.
Either way, they were both adorable. They were friendly with everyone, but also well-behaved enough to leave the customers alone.
That's probably why you had looked up in the first place. Usually you keep yourself tucked in a small booth in the far back corner of the cafe, where an outlet allows your tiny laptop the power it needs to keep itself on for longer than an hour at a time. As a result, most of the cafe remains fairly out of view for you.
But that night you couldn't help but crane your neck out in curiosity when you heard the unfamiliar sound of a cat hissing. For a split second you wondered if a stray had gotten in and was trying to pick a fight with Jam on her usual perch by the countertop. Instead, you were greeted with the sight of Jam, stanced up on the hardwood flooring, back arched and tail poofed out comically large.
In front of her stood a massive figure-- they had to have been 6'10 minimum, with a bulky torso and limbs like tree trunks.
Briefly you wondered what kind of bench presses this person was doing to achieve back muscles like that before you blinked away from ogling the back of their hoodie. Despite their large size, they were doing their best to crouch down in front of Jam, hands moving about in an anxious manner as they did their best to appease the agitated beast.
"Hey, heyyy there buddy, I'm not tryin'a hurt you! Lil' Raphie's a friend. See? Friend!" The stranger cooed at the cat gently, low voice lilting up into a coddling tone but failing to mask their nerves.
The whole scene would have been comically adorable, if not for the fact that 1) you were well aware that Jam was exhibiting the warning signs of being about to pounce, 2) you and this stranger were the only ones currently occupying this area of Monaco's cozy little cafe, and 3) that this person only seemed to have three large fingers on their hands, all of which seemed to be an unsettling earthy green-yellow hue.
Running on fumes, caffeine, and instinct, you immediately found yourself propelled into action. Carefully you stood from your seat in the booth, making your way over to the stranger and snagging one of the mice-on-a-string toys from where the employees kept them in a basket beside the counter.
Jam, too caught up in her posturing, ignored you in favor of letting out a second, more aggressive hiss at the stranger. You noticed now that he was crouching, attempting to make himself as low to the ground as possible as he tried and failed to make friends with what was usually the world's most collected and friendly kitty in the world. Perplexed, you lightly cleared your throat as you slid into place beside him.
"You should probably take a few steps back," you say conversationally, holding the toy behind your back and rocking a bit back on your heels as you survey the situation. You blink, trying to will away the exhaustion from your body as you register that this guy might actually be bigger than you originally assessed. Dang.
Maybe that's why he hadn't heard you approach, you think, watching as he suddenly yelps in shock and stutters to his feet, almost backpedaling until he clatters into one of the solid wooden seats arranged a few meters behind him.
Jam spooks and scrambles for the back rooms, likely towards wherever her lifelong companion Jelly is resting. As she zooms out of sight, you frown and set the toy at the edge of the counter. You were hoping to help calm her down before she left, but you suppose you could always try it another time.
Instead, you turned your attention to the guy behind you. His back was turned to you again, three-fingered hands outstretched as he anxiously re-arranged the furniture he had bumped into earlier. You felt a little bad for scaring him, but you couldn't help but feel a little amused as well. WIth his size, you may as well be a mouse beside a lion, so you're not sure how he managed to be so jumpy with just a few words from you.
"I hope you can forgive her," you say, letting your words stretch a smidge longer to help ease your presence back into his periphery. "Jam is usually way better with strangers than that."
The guy finally pauses, hands stilling and sliding off the backrests of chairs that he was awkwardly checking for damage. He seems to fiddle with the strings of his hoodie and turns 45 degrees towards you, doing his best to obscure himself from your immediate vision.
You can tell pretty quickly why. His face is the same hue as his uncovered hands, a deep yellow-green color that reminds you of freshwater vegetation. The top half of his face houses a bright red bandanna that covers the skin around and above his eyes. A snaggletooth worries his bottom lip as he quickly glances at you and sheepishly presses his fingers together.
"Uh, yeah. Sorry. I didn't mean to freak her out, hero's honor," he says, raising one of his hands in a boyscout's salute before quickly bringing his hands back to shove them unceremoniously in the pocket at the front of his hoodie.
It's all so painfully adorable. You do your best to nod along, offering him a small smile in the hopes of soothing his nerves. Internally, you wonder if he's one of those people who got bitten by those hybrid mosquitos that had been causing problems throughout New York City all those years ago.
Your instinct is to give him a pat on the shoulder, but he doesn't know you and you don't know if he'd be okay with that, so instead you settle for giving him a bit of space. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wonder when the barista on duty had wandered off onto their extended break.
"It's okay, based on what I saw you were doing your best," you say conversationally, going to pick up the toy again. "If you don't mind me saying though, you should probably try not to stare her so intensely in the eyes. Most animals tend to take that as a challenge, and with your size she probably thought you were trying to evict her from her territory or something." You unfurl the little mouse at the end of the stick carefully, pretending not to notice as the stranger slowly uncurls and turns to watch you curiously.
"Playing with them helps a lot too," you say, letting the little mouse hit the wooden floorboards with a muffled clatter. The little bell at the end jingles merrily, and despite her earlier distress, Jam peeks her way around the employee doorframe, eyes wide and silly.
You hear the stranger gasp in wonderment as Jam crouches down low, her butt wiggling as she prepares to pounce on the little mouse toy splayed out across the floor. You know she likes to spend a while winding up, so you patiently wait. The stranger seems to be holding his breath too, and for a second you're concerned for his well-being until Jam springs into action, leaping for the little toy. At the last second you yank it away, letting the toy carry across short distances of flooring to help mimic the chase.
On your fourth tug, Jam's leap is well-timed enough that she's able to secure the little toy mouse between her outstretched paws. The stranger behind you can't help but coo at the scene, and you spare a glance behind you to see his big ol' hands pressed up against the chin of his face in an expression of sheer adoration.
You snort, yanking at the toy a bit before turning and beckoning the stranger over.
"Here," you say, when he blinks and steps forward. You hand the toy off to him, giving his knuckles a reassuring pat as his two fingers close around the stick handle. He blinks owlishly down at his hand, your hand, and then your face. When his eyes meet yours, the corner of your lips quirk up into a little (albeit tired) smile.
You take the opportunity to introduce yourself, which brings him back to reality enough that he feels embarrassed. His cheeks bloom a darker green that the rest of him as he glances away, his free hand coming up to rub the back of his head through the hood of his sweater in what seems to be an old nervous habbit.
"Thanks. Uhhh-- My name's Raph. Raphael, really, but Raph's what everyone calls me," he says, seeming to come out of his shell a little more at your candor. "Usually I'm way better with animals, I swear." He switches the cat toy to his left hand and stretches out his right with a lopsided grin. "It's nice to meet'cha."
You stretch your own hand out to meet his handshake. His grip is firm and, wow; his hand has no issues engulfing your own completely. His hand feels like it's crazy calloused, but before you can marvel at the feeling he's let your hand go.
You pivot, doing your best to ignore that train of thought while stepping to the left and a bit back next to Raph. You eye Jam; she seems a bit wary again, but the tip of her tail is just flickering a bit in curiosity, which is a massive improvement from the displays of aggression from earlier.
Raph seems nervous, but his eagerness is bleeding so obviously into the air that you can practically smell it. Experimentally, he tugs the little toy to the right, letting it jump away from where Jam is standing.
Instantly, her eyes get big again and she settles into a pouncing position, butt wiggling once again before she sends herself flying towards her jingling target. Raph lets out a bewildered little laugh at that, cooing quietly as he watches Jam prance around the little open area of the cafe.
"This... is... incredible," he says with the kind of awe usually reserved for breathtaking mountain views and glimmering sunsets. You can't help but grin at his fascination. Somehow you get the feeling that he's not actually as good with animals as he's led himself to believe.
Raph's eyes get big and watery as he adds a babying affectation to his voice, crouching low. "Aww, you're just a widdle guy, aren'tcha? You wuv to pway so much, wight? Wuv to pway wif Waphy?"
You can't help the sputtering laugh that fumbles its way through your lips then. Your hand smacks its way over your mouth a moment too late.
Raph's arm suddenly jitters to a halt, much to Jam's annoyance. You swear you can see dark green dusting the bumpy skin of his cheeks again, but this time it seems to spread across his neck as well. You're quick to follow up as you lean forward, hand waving in front of you as you attempt to plead your case.
"I-- I'm so sorry," you say between huffs of laughter. "You just-- that was cute, and I wasn't expecting that at all." You crouch low next to him, still doing your best to suppress the giddy laughter bubbling out of your chest. You manage to loop your arms around your bent knees, hands clasping under them as you turn and give Raph a joyful grin. "Ignore me. Jam would never forgive me if I was the reason her playtime was cut short."
Still trying to calm your funnybone, you don't really quite register the way he peeks over his large bicep, the one propped up on one of his big knees. He's staring at you like it's the first time he's really, truly seen your face, eyes wide with wonder.
Suddenly, there's a flash of claw and Raph lets out a startled yelp, tipping backwards as he shakes his assaulted leg. It looks as if Jam had gotten impatient for the toy to move again and instead had attempted to take matters into her own hand. Paw? Whatever.
You gasp and lean forward, assessing the gash in his sweatpants. There's a sizable set of holes where Jam had torn the fabric, but thankfully you don't see any blood from the wound. In fact, you don't even think Jam had injured him at all. Just to be thorough, you gingerly pull a the fabric and lean in, squinting to take a closer look.
"Well, she can take a bit of time to warm up to people," you say, looking up to give Raph an apologetic smile. Raph's leaning back, his weight shifted to his arms behind him as he watches Jam prance off towards her water bowl. "And sorry about your, uh... well, your pants," you say, gesturing to the hole at his shin with a sheepish grin.
"Does that mean I can come back?" he says suddenly, as if the thought had only just occurred to him. You blink owlishly, taking in his bewildered expression. It takes you a moment to process that he's probably just dead set on cultivating what little good rapport he's gotten started with Jam. It does take you off guard that he apparently thought he might not be welcome here in the first place.
"Of course you can," you say, doing your best to sound reassuring. "You seem like a kind soul. That's all that really matters, 'round here."
He blinks, then fixes you with a crooked smile, his little snaggletooth drawing your attention to the way his green cheeks dimple despite the brittle structure of his skin. Part of you wants to know exactly how tough all those little spikes are on his arms and face, but you were raised well enough to know to keep your hands to yourself.
"So, I guess you'll be seeing a lot of me then! I mean-- only if you happen to come here often! I mean, do you think you'd say you come here...... often?"
Raph's stumbling over his words, and you can almost see his expression dip out into horror as he processes how bad his mouth is suddenly failing him. You almost burst into another set of laughter, but you spare the guy and catch yourself just in time. Instead you just shrug coyly.
"Yeah, I guess you could say I'm a regular," you say, getting to your feet as you notice the barista finally wandering back to his post at the front. He dusts off his apron and shoots the both of you a quizzical look, so you shoot him a small smile to let him know everything's a-ok. Once you're back on your feet, you turn and offer Raph a hand. It's mostly by instinct, and as soon as you do it you feel a little silly. You're not weak by any means, but your help will probably be more of a hinderance than anything considering the difference in heights.
Regardless, Raph seems eager to take it. You put your back into helping him up, but you get the feeling he just took your hand to be polite. Once he's on his feet again, you find yourself craning your neck up to look at him. Somewhere along the way, the hood of his sweater has fallen off and you can see the way the dark green flush spreads across the rest of his face.
You suddenly remember the tear Jam had caused and perk up as you let his hand go.
"Hey, if you're coming back tomorrow, why don't you bring your sweatpants? I've got a little sewing kit I keep meaning to use, and I've been told I can put together a mean fix when it comes to torn clothing."
Raph's hand flexes and he's quiet for a moment. You almost wonder if he didn't hear you at first, but he eventually raises his gaze to give you another bright grin, cheeks pushing at the edges of his bandanna-mask.
"Yeah," he says a little softly, then again with eager intent. "Yeah! I'll definitely be there. Here. Raph will be here." He fumbles, gesturing a bit wildly with his hands. You swing your arms behind your back and nod with a smile.
"Great! Sounds like a plan, Raph."