Chapter Text
“Here’s your coffee.” Skittery placed the cold drink on the counter, barely offering the regular customer a nod after they took it and gave their thanks. To his right, his singular employee, Sniper, was finishing up another order on her own.
“And here’s yours,” Sniper said, sitting down the last of three coffee drinks with a smile. “Have a nice day.” Her regulars—at least one of which definitely had an unrequited crush on her—smiled back and waved as they left.
Skittery was cleaning up and inspecting the brewing machine that Sniper had used when she whirled on him, redoing her small bun of strawberry blonde hair. “Would it kill you to, I don’t know, look your regulars in the eye when giving them their order?”
“They don’t care,” Skittery replied flatly, hearing Sniper huff in response. “Besides, Snipes—they’re my regulars, not yours. How we interact is different from you flirting with every one of your regulars.”
Having separate groups of regulars was commonplace. As the owner, Skittery got to be picky when it came to new customers. If both him and Sniper were available to take orders, Skittery would assess the person with a quick once-over before deciding who would serve them. He’d go up if he thought he could handle it; otherwise, he’d completely ignore them and let Sniper deal with it.
Naturally, Sniper made her own picks from time to time. For instance, she would insist on taking an order that Skittery was going to take for seemingly no reason. He argued at first, but gave up when he didn’t want to lose his only employee over something so trivial.
His coffee shop was called Last Drop, and it was built on the bottom floor of a townhouse that he lived on the second floor of. Attached to the left of this townhouse were two others: the middle structure was unoccupied while the one on the far end housed a bookstore downstairs and its owner upstairs. They’d both been that way ever since Skittery moved in four years ago.
“Hey, I do not flirt with anyone,” Sniper claimed, going on the defensive. “I’m just nice, and if anything, they flirt with me, but I have—”
“Girlfriends, yes, I know.” Skittery opened a lid on one of the machines to drain it out, but the distinctly fruity scent that hit his nose sent him recoiling before even glimpsing inside. He recognized it faintly, but that didn’t make him feel any better about its unexpected presence. “What the hell did you put in there?”
Sniper’s eyes went wide and she briskly crossed from the front counter to the back. She flipped the lid closed and leaned an arm on top of it. “I’ll get it cleaned, Skitts. No need for you to worry about this mess.”
They stared at each other for a couple seconds. When Sniper made no moves to start cleaning, Skittery motioned at his employee, saying, “Go ahead. You clearly don’t have anything else to do right now.”
In the time it took Sniper to even think of a pointless excuse, the cafe’s front door opened. The sound of the steady rainfall outside increased in volume briefly, then returned to its muffled state once the door closed behind the arriving customer. Skittery heard the shaking of an umbrella as he turned around, finding that a familiar redhead had entered.
“You should really invest in an umbrella holder,” Albert said by way of greeting, closing his dripping umbrella and carefully placing it by the front door of the shop. Walking over to the order counter, he continued to say, “Bumlets has one, and it’s great for the rain that never seems to stop around here—and not to mention that I’m afraid of leaving puddles on the floors when Hotshot works there.”
Bumlets owned the bookstore, called Between The Lines, on the other end of the townhouses, and like Skittery, he also lived on its second floor. They were neighbors—Skittery’s closest neighbor within the town’s shopping and residential plaza, to be exact—and became friends soon after Skittery bought his house. He would also be lying straight through his teeth to say that Bumlets wasn’t attractive, but anyone could see that from one glance or short exchange with the guy.
Regardless, that was neither here nor there.
Hotshot was Bumlets’ only employee as well as one of Sniper’s two girlfriends. Skittery had met both partners before (the other woman’s nickname was Smalls, in relation to her short height) and they all frequented Last Drop and Between The Lines.
“Did you just come in to complain about my lack of an umbrella holder, or were you actually going to order coffee?” Skittery asked from where he kneeled down to access a lower cabinet, grabbing restocks of napkins and wooden stirrers.
“I like to do a little bit of both, you know me, so I’d like some coffee now,” Albert replied easily. He looked between Skittery and Sniper expectantly.
“Who’s brewing it?” Skittery, busy with restocking the condiment station, prompted Albert. Sniper, he noted, hadn’t moved from her post at the weird fruity-smelling machine yet. It made more sense for her to do it, but they left the choice up to Albert. On account of being friends, they didn’t mind letting him be selective about who made his order.
Skittery never really noticed a certain method or pattern to Albert’s choices, but Albert and Sniper seemed to have some kind of understanding about it. He didn’t care enough to question them.
Albert hummed before making his decision. “Do you mind, Skitts?” He leaned towards the station to catch Skittery’s eye.
Finishing up his task, Skittery gave his friend a contemplative look, narrowing his eyes. “Are you going to the bookstore afterwards?”
Sniper laughed, drawing their attention to where she still hadn’t moved. “Of course he’s going to the bookstore after coming here. It wouldn’t be a normal Friday without it.” Before Skittery could demand to know why she appeared to be quite literally guarding the coffee machine, she snapped her fingers. Talking to him, she said, “How about you make Al’s order then go take your lunch break? And I promise I’ll clean this up,” she tapped on the closed lid, “while you’re gone.”
“You could clean it while I’m making his order,” Skittery pointed out, “but do whatever you want.” To Albert, he asked, “The usual three drinks?”
Albert rattled off the order, even though Skittery already knew what they were. He got to work while Albert and Sniper talked.
“Did you want any baked goods today?” Sniper asked when Albert wandered towards the display case, scanning the items in there. It was about half full, and nearly all of it would be gone by mid-afternoon. “I made the cookies on the top shelf,” she added, pointing.
“Your stuff is always on the top shelf,” Albert replied, and Skittery happened to catch his friend’s knowing smirk. “I wasn’t initially going to get anything, but one of my boyfriends—”
“You can say his name, Al,” Skittery interjected tiredly. “Either of their names, really. I don’t know why you keep it a secret.”
“Because it’s fun to annoy you,” Albert said matter-of-factly, and Skittery sighed. Accepting his first finished drink, Albert turned back to Sniper. “As I was saying: one of my boyfriends has been pretty… overtaxed recently, so I think he’d appreciate a treat from here.”
Finally leaving the coffee machine unattended (Skittery left it alone, no longer vaguely intrigued enough to further investigate what his employee previously guarded), Sniper approached the back of the display case.
“A nice chocolate chip cookie should help,” she explained simply, and Albert nodded.
Turning his attention back to brewing coffee and mixing drinks, Skittery ignored the remainder of their conversation. Instead, he thought about his upcoming lunch break.
He was mainly thinking about getting to see Bumlets.
Obviously because they were neighbors and friends, and because Skittery thought that Bumlets had a good taste in the books that he filled his store with (even if Skittery was only truly interested in one genre that he refused to let anyone pin down). He would obviously want to visit Bumlets often for all of those aforementioned reasons. There was no other secret, likely foolish, reason beyond that.
Least of all a one-sided crush, four years and running. Skittery certainly didn’t have one of those.
His mind undeniably occupied, his hands worked on autopilot to finish up the other two drinks. Albert had already paid for them, as well as one of Sniper’s chocolate chip cookies, and the two of them continued chatting while Skittery washed up and removed his apron.
He pulled on a jacket and headed towards the cafe’s front door. Already there, Albert had his hands full with the drink carrier and his dripping umbrella. Over his shoulder to Sniper, Skittery said, “Don’t forget to clean out—”
“I already promised I would!” Sniper cut in, indignant.
“—and stop making weird ‘fruit’ brews or whatever in my machines, Snipes.” At the door, Skittery took hold of Albert’s umbrella to help out, then turned back to look his employee in the eye. “I have all the recipes written down for a reason. You also can’t claim forgetfulness when you’ve worked here for years now.”
Sniper waved a dismissive hand. “I know, boss. Go enjoy your break, and tell Niamh I said hi.”
“Maybe,” Skittery replied, an answer directed towards the latter half of what she said.
“See you later,” Albert added brightly to Sniper.
Skittery stepped outside first, opening the umbrella properly, and Albert followed, ducking under it, too. Water droplets trickled down the hanging sign by the door and fell around them, sliding off their overhead covering.
The rain had been steady all morning and would remain the same throughout the afternoon. With how common rainy weather was here, Skittery was glad to live so close to where he worked. The walk from his apartment to the coffee shop took roughly thirty seconds; he could usually bear it without an umbrella and be fine. On the contrary, walking to Between The Lines—from one end of the townhouses to the other—naturally took a bit longer.
Unsurprisingly, the outdoor seating of Last Drop was currently empty as the two friends passed by the table out front. A small grouping of other tables were placed along the side of the building, and all of them had collapsible umbrella shades built into the middle of them. There were a couple months from mid-summer to early fall where customers could actually use this seating, but winter was too cold and spring was mostly just rain.
The townhouse’s exterior was made of brown bricks, and the columns and wood accents were painted dark blue, artisanal in design. The ornate frames and details of the windows were a rich wood tone to match the brick. While there was one window beside the front door, the entire right wall of the cafe was covered in windows, providing ample natural light. Its appearance was what drew Skittery in the first place and he hardly changed it beyond needed repairs after buying the place.
Skittery and Albert walked by the middle townhouse. It was fairly similar in design to Skittery’s own, but the previous owners had made some personal changes. The building now stood vacant as ever and in a state of minor disrepair. Skittery occasionally wondered if he and Bumlets would ever have someone living between them. Separating them from one another.
He hoped it wasn’t someone annoying—assuming someone moved in, anyway.
A sudden flash of movement off to Skittery’s right caught his attention. He inspected the sectioned docks in the distance, squinting through the haze of rain. Mirett Plaza was built beside the ocean however many decades ago, and Skittery had always been drawn to the calming view.
At least until he started seeing things out there in the water.
Calling what he thought he saw as ‘things’ was perfectly fitting, considering he could never quite see whatever it was. He would’ve given it a proper name if he could, but it always disappeared before he could identify it. Like right now: he couldn’t truly see a single thing out in those darkened waves, despite the movement he swore was in his peripheral vision three seconds ago. It didn’t help that Albert noticed nothing, either, just talking about his nameless reader boyfriend.
Knowing he sensed something but evidently locating nothing really landed a hard blow to Skittery’s sense of sanity. He was pretty sure that, at this point, it was some undiagnosed mental issue, but he wasn’t about to explain whatever the fuck he had going on to be pitied by a psychiatrist.
Before Skittery could grow too frustrated with himself, Albert’s voice spiked in volume beside him at the same time that he stumbled into his side. They came to an abrupt halt on the sidewalk.
“Watch how you’re holding the umbrella, man!”
Skittery mechanically righted the umbrella before he fully realized that it had fallen off to the side in his daze. “Sorry about that,” he muttered.
“Yeah, it’s fine.” Albert shook off his now-wet jacket sleeve, holding the drinks container in the other hand. “What’s got you so distracted, anyway? You weren’t listening to me.”
“I usually tune out whenever you talk about your boyfriends,” Skittery explained simply.
“You were looking at the water,” Albert said, apparently paying enough attention to see that. He leaned around Skittery to follow his earlier line of sight towards the distant shore. “Did you see something?”
“No,” was Skittery’s short answer. For a switch in topic, he tried and failed to recall what Albert had been talking about. He fished for a blanket statement. “Remind me again why you go to the bookstore when your boyfriend prefers audiobooks?”
(It was honestly ridiculous that Skittery knew such random facts about Albert’s two partners, and yet he’d never been told or even overheard either of the guys’ names before. Albert just liked to be an annoying asshole about it.)
Albert’s brows creased minutely at the topic change, but he accepted it, not pushing Skittery for information he wouldn’t give. “He prefers audiobooks, but he also likes owning physical copies because they look pretty, as he says.” Albert’s tone was purely fond. A moment later, he smirked as he parroted Skittery’s question back to him: “Remind me again why you go to the bookstore, Skittery?”
In response, Skittery glared at his friend, then began walking again at a brisk pace, almost subjecting Albert to an unplanned shower. Albert startled at the sudden movement, hastily catching up to stay beneath the umbrella’s cover. The pair bickered on the last half of their walk to the other end of the townhouses.
The exterior of Bumlets’ building, at its core, had the same decades-past design elements that the other buildings did, except that he did some renovations. The weathered red brick and thick trims were paired with updated white windows and accented with pops of black. Unlike Skittery’s building, Bumlets’ store had a proper bay window built in on the first floor; the middle townhouse had one on the second floor.
Skittery and Albert passed the flower bed that wrapped around the bay window before reaching the entrance, and Albert slipped inside while Skittery closed the umbrella. Prior to walking in, the slight creak of the hanging sign for Between The Lines made him glance up. It was the reason Skittery thought of getting one for Last Drop (and Bumlets’ comment that they’d match may have also aided in that decision).
A soft chime rang from above his head as he entered. He utilized the umbrella holder and dried his shoes on the rug. The bookstore had three parallel aisles, extending from the front of the store to the back. Tall, fancy shelves lined the side walls, and two sets of shorter shelves stood freely between them. On separate displays was a kids section built intentionally low to the floor, a rack for comic books, and a table showing off the newest releases.
Albert was already out of sight, and Hotshot looked over at Skittery’s entrance.
“Your most regular customer is also here,” she announced, but not to Skittery. Her arms were full of books, and she promptly returned to organizing them on the shelves.
“Micah?”
Skittery expertly ignored the familiar twist in his chest upon hearing Bumlets’ excited voice. Just as he stepped towards the center aisle, Bumlets appeared from there, giving Skittery a warm smile.
“Hi,” Skittery said plainly, and he returned a small smile.
“Good afternoon,” Bumlets greeted, appearing to be in a happy mood. “I hope you didn’t get too wet out there on the way over.”
His gaze flitted up slightly from Skittery’s eyes, and Skittery ran a suddenly self-conscious hand through his hair. It was barely damp, presumably having gotten rained on in the brief seconds after he’d lowered the umbrella before coming inside.
“I didn’t. I used Albert’s umbrella,” Skittery explained, and Bumlets nodded. “How are you?”
“Better now that you’re here.” Bumlets waved a hand for Skittery to follow him, which he did without complaint. Deeper in the center aisle, Bumlets motioned at the poetry section with a wide smile. “We got new poetry books,” he said excitedly, looking up at Skittery for a reaction.
“Oh, that’s—cool.” Skittery forced his gaze to skim over the covers and titles before landing back on Bumlets after an appropriate amount of time.
Caught off guard, Bumlets shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I thought you liked poetry.”
The best, neutral response Skittery could give his friend was a shrug. “You know how I am when it comes to books.”
“Well-rounded?” Albert suggested, coming around from the leftmost aisle with a book in hand. His coffees and cookie were nowhere to be seen, although from past endeavors here, Skittery guessed that those things had been temporarily placed on the checkout desk.
“Indecisive,” Hotshot offered instead as she passed the three of them and headed for the checkout counter, her hands now free of books. Albert muffled a snort and disappeared again.
“I don’t recall asking either of you,” Skittery remarked. He knew eavesdropping was bound to happen, though; with how small the place was, sound carried easily.
“Whatever the case,” Bumlets said to Skittery, laying a hand on his arm, “I’m glad you like everything here.”
It’s not just the variety of books for sale, Skittery thought, then blinked to rid the borderline flirtatious reply from his mind. It only half-worked, especially considering that what else he liked continued talking to him.
“We actually got new books for a bunch of genres this week,” Bumlets shared, indicating around and through the shelves as he listed them off. “Poetry like I said, but also adventure, kids, YA, historical fiction, and supernatural all got refreshes.”
Skittery looked up and over to the supernatural section, located along a top shelf on the wall. He found it impressive that Bumlets was always able to find matching or similarly designed sets. Aesthetically, they were just the right mix of ancient and well-used. It suited the timeless and cozy interior that book-lovers flocked to the comfort of.
“So you’re saying you got some new tomes up in supernatural?” Skittery said jokingly, making air quotes. When he heard no laughter from Bumlets, he found only an unreadable expression.
Hotshot’s voice cut through the momentary silence, her question directed towards her boss. “Alejandro, can you come here for a second?”
Bumlets held up a finger to her before turning back to Skittery, an oddly serious look on his face now. “Is that what those books look like to you? Tomes?”
“I mean, kind of?” Skittery struggled to formulate an answer when it felt like he’d said something wrong. “I think they look cool, matching like that, but I was just kidding anyway.”
“I like it,” Bumlets assured, his genuine smile instantly easing Skittery’s worries. “Maybe I should rename the supernatural section in your honor—how about the Spooky Tomes section?”
Skittery shook his head. “It doesn’t really roll off the tongue.”
Laughing, Bumlets said, “I appreciate your honesty, Micah. I’ll be at the counter if you need me.”
He walked off to see what Hotshot wanted. Skittery allowed himself to watch for a couple seconds before focusing on the books around him.
Unlike Albert, who was only here to look around and/or buy a book then leave, Skittery was going to stick around during his lunch break and hang out with Bumlets. While perusing a variety of genres (decidedly avoiding the poetry section, though), Skittery tried to find a book that even remotely piqued his interest. The usual plan was to grab three, bring them over to Bumlets, and ask for a patented Owner’s Recommendation.
Truthfully, he liked hearing his friend enthuse about books. Pretending (most of the time) to be interested in reading them himself was a small price to pay for it.
Regardless of keeping up pretenses, Skittery always read whatever Bumlets recommended. His friend was knowledgeable about a lot of different genres, which was good since Skittery tended to pick three completely random books each week. He would throw in something that he’d actually enjoy from time to time, hopeful that it would be recommended.
Today was for judging books by their covers, picking purely off those designs rather than interest in the story. It took long enough for Albert to leave, thanking both Skittery and Bumlets for his purchased wares, and for Hotshot to decide to take her own lunch break, presumably heading over to Last Drop to see Sniper.
“Alone at last,” Bumlets declared to Skittery once the front door shut behind his employee. In one smooth motion, he rounded the wooden bookshelf that Skittery was standing in front of, propping himself against it as he smiled up at Skittery.
“Do you think anyone will come in this time?” Skittery asked. His eyes scanned across the shelves for a third book with an intriguing cover.
“Nope.” To his right, Bumlets waved dismissively at the door. “It hasn’t happened yet and I’m determined to keep it that way.”
Skittery gave up trying to be picky, unable to concentrate enough for it, and grabbed some green paperback with pictures of origami on it. “Alright. What should I read?” He tried to spread them out between his hands, but Bumlets held up a halting hand.
“We aren’t even sitting in the bay window seat yet,” he explained, to which Skittery rolled his eyes. Bumlets righted himself, tugging lightly on Skittery’s jacket sleeve as he passed by. “Come on.”
He followed without complaint. It was tradition, after all.
The two friends settled themselves into the cushioned seating of the bay window. Skittery had seen many avid readers tucked into this spot before, indulging in a good book with a view of the Mirett Plaza and the ocean in the distance. Bumlets didn’t mind letting people hang out as long as they weren’t disruptive.
They left enough space between them for the small spread of books. Skittery prompted his request for a recommendation again while Bumlets was skimming the summaries of each book. Once he was done, he grinned and launched into his thoughts on all three. Skittery listened well, knowing the right cues for when to comment and to keep Bumlets talking. Sitting beside his best friend and hearing how happy he was to talk about what he loved was, simply put, comforting.
With maybe five minutes left of his lunch break, Skittery’s rapt attention was annoyingly drawn to something outside the window. Breaking his gaze from Bumlets, Skittery looked out at a middle-aged woman who was approaching the bookstore. He vaguely recognized her—one of Bumlets’ regular customers?—as she walked up to the door.
Well, the woman appeared to be headed that way, but then she spared the bookstore a disappointed glance and continued on her way.
“Wasn’t that one of your regulars, Dom?” The words tumbled out before Skittery could even think about waiting for a natural pause in the conversation.
Bumlets blinked at the abrupt interruption, but he still traced Skittery’s line of sight outside. “Yeah, why?”
“She looked like she was going to come in, but then she kept walking,” Skittery explained, immediately realizing how stupid it sounded. People didn’t have to enter every time they approached the store—hell, he’d seen potential customers loitering outside Last Drop before ultimately leaving, too.
“Then our luck precedes us. We’ve been left alone yet again,” Bumlets concluded, putting a better spin on the situation.
“You mean your luck,” Skittery corrected. At Bumlets’ confused look, he added, “It’s your store, and you literally said earlier that you were determined to keep people out while I’m here.”
“I—that’s not quite how I’d put it, and it’s not like I’m forcing people away to be alone with you or anything, Skitts,” Bumlets said with a pleasant smile that certainly did not stir any particular feelings in Skittery’s chest.
Quickly averting his eyes, Skittery gestured down at the books between them. “I liked what you said about all of these, by the way. Which one do you recommend?”
“All three,” Bumlets replied brightly.
“Dom. Pick one.”
Bumlets neatly stacked them on top of each other, sliding it until it hit Skittery’s leg. “Look, that’s one book that I think you’d like.”
Skittery stared pointedly at his friend, lifting up only the top one. “So this?”
“Are the other two going to be options next week?” Bumlets asked, his voice futilely hopeful.
“I don’t know.” The answer was a definite no and they both knew it. Skittery tried to avoid repeats, especially on back-to-back Fridays.
Shoulders dropping, Bumlets relented. “Then yes. I recommend that one.”
“Don’t look so glum about it,” Skittery said. A traitorous hand reached out to Bumlets’ arm of its own accord. Pulling back would prompt more questions than it was worth, so he didn’t, letting it land.
“Why not?” Bumlets urged, maybe possibly leaning into the touch. It only served to make Skittery hastily think of a better response than Because I hate seeing you so sad.
“Because you were so excited about this book,” he managed to say. He rose to his feet, effectively ending the brief physical contact.
Bumlets stood as well and joined Skittery in the short walk back towards the checkout desk. “I’m excited about any book you show me.”
“Why?” Skittery echoed, a little distant.
“Because I know you’ll read one of them,” Bumlets replied, his satisfied tone carrying the expectation of their unwavering routine. In the ensuing silence, he got situated behind the desk, bumping the computer’s mouse to wake it up, and Skittery placed his book down.
He shifted to look through the center aisle and further at the front window, meaning to check the status of the weather. It was still raining—he could see evidence of it falling on a nearby tree’s leaves, causing them to bounce slightly—and he realized that he had no umbrella to protect himself from it. Albert would’ve taken his own when he left earlier.
Before he could ask to borrow an umbrella, there was a bright flash of faint blue light just beyond the door frame.
Waiting to see if it happened again was fruitless. Skittery turned to see Bumlets lowering a hand, and asked if he had seen the flash, namely what he presumed to be lightning. But Bumlets just shook his head, saying with calm confidence that it wasn’t storming. Glancing back at the door and window, Skittery came to a reasonable conclusion: he’d just blinked and it had appeared to be lightning.
That kind of thing happened sometimes. It was normal.
The bell over the door chimed throughout the shop. Two customers entered and quietly exchanged complaints about the weather to one another. Skittery overheard nothing about a recent lightning strike; it wasn’t that he didn’t trust Bumlets’ word, but it was further assurance nonetheless.
“Do you want me to put your book in a bag?” Bumlets’ voice brought Skittery back, who was met with kind patience when they made eye contact. “To protect it from water damage,” he supplied.
“Right, that’d be helpful,” Skittery agreed. He must have pulled a face or something, because as Bumlets grabbed a bag, he repeated himself.
“It isn’t storming out there. I promise.”
That’s not why I’m feeling this way, Skittery thought, mentally reinforcing his explanation for the flash he swore he saw. Aloud, he said, “I know.”
“I wouldn’t let you leave otherwise.” Bumlets tried for a light comment, and Skittery cracked a smile. The new book (bought at a substantial discount, like usual), now bag-wrapped, was handed over. “You might want to get back to work before Sniper takes over.”
Skittery actually laughed at that. “I doubt it. She’s explained to me before, at length, how much she prefers the employee position over being a business owner. Too stressful, you know?” Bumlets laughed too, understanding the sentiment. “Well, I’ll leave you—wait, do you have an—”
“Here you go.” Bumlets also passed an umbrella over the desk. “Return it when you come back?”
“Nope,” Skittery said, causing Bumlets to grin. “And thanks. I’ll see you around.”
“Same to you.”
Bumlets’ parting smile was thoroughly appreciated before Skittery turned to leave. He avoided the pair of customers that entered a minute ago, both of them being greeted warmly by Bumlets. Skittery didn’t hesitate to step outside, lofting the opened umbrella above his head, and walked the familiar sidewalk from one end of the three townhouses to the other to return to Last Drop.