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Muttering to himself, Noah let the shop door swing shut behind as he stormed out into the cool morning air. He bee-lined for his vehicle, parked along the side street to keep the prime spots open for the customers.
So far, his morning had been incredibly shitty.
A fucking Tuesday of Tuesdays.
Why he ever expected better on a day named after a god of war, Noah won’t ever fully understand. Too many bad things happen on Tuesdays.
Constantinople? Rome? Fell on Tuesdays.
WWI? Started on a Tuesday.
Stock market crash? It’s called “Black Tuesday” for a reason.
Challenger? Twin towers? Went down on Tuesdays!
This particular Tuesday’s calamities started with a chirping smoke detector sometime between 2 and 3 am. He wasn’t exactly sure when the chirping started, but he did know it took time for the device’s persistence to convince his sleep-deprived brain that ignoring was not a worthwhile strategy.
When he couldn’t ignore it anymore, Noah climbed out of bed and glared blearily up at the device. He knew, technically, there was a button to stop or maybe delay the chirping. However, that was a button he couldn’t reach without a step stool.
Noah had a step stool. It was in the kitchen - where he also kept the spare batteries.
“Fuck it.” Might as well change the battery if he was going to do almost all the same work anyways.
As he walked into the kitchen, he heard the clanking grinding of the ice maker running. Then…
A strange hiss.
His fridge had never hissed before, not that he could recall. Noah didn’t exactly categorize all the noises his fridge made, so maybe he’d just never noticed it before?
Opening the drawer across from the fridge, Noah scrounged around for a spare 9-volt battery. He knew there would be at least one - he buys two when he is out of batteries, just in case.
A shock of wet cold hit the side of his foot and he yelped, leaping to the side and stumbling against the oven.
He stared down in horror at the water flowing out from beneath the fridge. Panicked, he flung down a dish towel, a roll of paper towels and the kitchen rug in an attempt to barricade the water while he frantically typed into Google for how to turn the damn water off.
There was a valve behind the fridge. Thank fuck.
Once he had the water off and the fridge back in place, Noah spent too much time mopping up the remaining water on the floor. By the time he had that taken care of and the battery in the still chirping detector changed, it was close to four am. His alarm would be going off in little over an hour.
Noah flopped down onto the bed, spread eagle on his back. He was already dreading the morning shift.
The first notes of a random rock ballad woke him up, same as every morning. Noah’s eyes cracked open. He frowned, confused. Why was it so bright -
Sitting bolt upright, Noah gapped at the clock. Why the hell was his alarm going off an hour late? There was no time for him to figure it out, he’d have to worry about it later. He was already late for the opening shift at the cafe and Gina was going to kill him for it.
Noah scrambled out of bed, cursing and clumsy enough with adrenaline that he slammed his toe into the side board. He hobbled on one foot to the bathroom and flipped on the light switch. There was a brief flash of light and then the small room returned to its usual darkness.
The light bulb had just burned out. And at the least convenient time possible.
There was nothing for it. Noah hurried through his morning ablutions without the benefit of a mirror and got dressed in a rush. Grabbing his keys, he was out the door within five minutes of waking up.
At the cafe where Noah was oh-so-graciously employed, Gina was his favorite coworker. It was just that she was a hard worker and more than willing to handle her share of the load. She also kept the day lively, engaging in a bubbly manner with even the grumpiest of customers and making little side quips to Noah that rarely failed to make him laugh.
Being his favorite did not stop her from glaring at him as he rushed in less than thirty minutes before the cafe officially opened. She also immediately clocked a problem.
“Your shirt is inside out,” Gina informed him, voice flat with annoyance.
Noah looked down and saw the prominent seams. He groaned and ducked into the back to quickly flip the shirt around correctly.
Dressed correctly, he joined Gina in prepping for morning. “I’m so sorry, this has been the morning from hell.”
“It’s fine, just help me get -” she paused, dark eyes narrowing. “Where’s your name tag?” Gina hissed.
Noah patted his shirt, stupid considering he could see the name tag wasn’t there, then patted his pockets. He had his keys, but that was it. No name tag.
He looked back up at Gina, face blank with dread. “Shit.” Uselessly, he checked his pockets again. “Maybe I left it in the car?”
She closed her eyes, lines of exhaustion already etched across her features and the cafe wasn’t even open yet. “Go. You’ve got five minutes.”
“You sure?” Guilt made him hesitate.
“Do you want Lorna harping on you about it?” Gina countered.
Noah winced. “Point taken.”
Lorna was an infamous regular who saw it as a form of community service to pick out everything the “younger members of society” were doing wrong at her “dear friend’s” establishment. Noah thinks Lorna met the owner once.
“I’ll be quick!” Noah promised as he ducked out the door. He was going to have to make up for this disaster of a morning to Gina somehow.
He went straight for his car, mind focused on all the places his name badge could be. Keys in hand, he unlocked his car and swung the driverside door open. Probably, the badge was in the cup holder or another pocket on the center console. But he hadn’t seen it that morning on his way in -
Noah heard the slap of feet running seconds before the scent of ozone hit him. Instinct locked him in place. Slowly, he raised his head.
A man came to a stop in front of him, panting from exertion. Dark haired, Asian, extremely fit. He was wearing a long hospital gown and nothing else. His feet were bare.
Distantly, in the far corner of his mind, Noah remembered that the hospital was just down the street.
The rest of Noah was focused entirely on the gold eyes gleaming in the morning light.
He tried to speak, tried to say “Hello.”
He barely got out a strangled squeak before his voice gave out.
The man stepped closer, eyes darting between Noah and the open car door. A low growl filled the air between them and the man jerked his chin.
Noah stared at him blankly.
The man jerked his chin again. Growled.
Noah still couldn’t think, couldn’t respond.
Frustrated rage covered the feral man’s face and he stomped closer, the growl shifting to a sharper snarl.
The change finally knocked Noah out of his freeze and directly into ‘fight or flight.’ Unable to choose between the two, his body acted out a strange amalgamation of both as adrenaline flooded his veins.
The feral man was nearly in arm's reach when a reflex born of outright terror had Noah flinging his keys into the man’s face. The man’s head snapped back, snarl twisting with a garbled yelp, and Noah seized the chance to bolt for the shop door.
He slammed inside, drawing a startled yelp from Gina as the door swung shut heavily behind him. Hands trembling, Noah hurried to lock the door and then darted for the front, intent on checking the locks on the main entrance door too.
A breath of relief left him when he found it locked and he sagged against the glass.
“What the hell is going on?” Gina asked, eyes wide. She held a coffee carafe in her hands. “Were you being chased? Was there -” Her face contorted in confusion as she looked past him and out the glass storefront. “Is - is that your car?”
Noah spun around and watched as his car drove past the cafe, the feral man in the front seat.
“Noah…”
He turned to face her and said, voice lacking any infection “I think Shane Hollander just stole my car.”
“No.”
“Yep.”
Her eyebrows disappeared into her bangs, disbelief turning into shock. Then her lips twitched. She clapped her hands over her mouth, but it did nothing to hide her giggles.
“Why is that funny?” Noah asked her, incredulous.
“You - you still don’t -” She gestured to her chest. Or, rather, to the name badge on her chest.
Right. Noah’s name badge was still missing. “Aw, damnit.” He’d seen it, too, in the door pocket, just before Hollander had shown up.
A rap on the glass drew their attention to the door, where a wizened face above a hot pink scarf peered in at them.
Lorna.
She was already scowling at them.
“I hate Tuesdays,” Noah lamented.
Once the shock had worn off and the Wicked Witch Lorna had been served - not without commentary on punctuality and adherence to uniform standards - Noah called the police to report the theft of his car.
He honestly didn’t care much about anyone getting arrested. He just wanted his car back.
And his apartment keys. Those especially.
Around midmorning, a pair of uniform officers arrived at the cafe and asked to speak with Noah. They took his information and had him explain the events in question.
The older of the two remained stoic throughout Noah’s explanation. “And you are sure it was Shane Hollander?” Officer Davis asked.
The younger officer, introduced as Officer Burke, made a strangled noise at the name. He’d been doing so since Noah hesitantly brought the hockey player up.
“Uh, no.” Noah shook his head. “I mean the guy definitely looked like him, but I’ve only seen Hollander on TV so…” He shrugged.
Officer Davis nodded. “And you gave him your keys after he threatened you?”
“Kinda?” Heat rose in Noah’s and he coughed to clear his throat. “Like, dude was growling and all, but he wasn’t flashing teeth, if that’s what you mean.”
“But you still gave him your keys?”
Noah shuffled his feet uncertainly. “Its - well - I kinda… threw them at him? On accident?”
“Accident?” Officer Burke questioned, baffled. “How does that happen?”
“Er, I forgot I was holding my keys until I yeeted them at his head? And then ran away?” Noah winced at hearing the words coming out of his mouth. He really wasn’t going to be winning any awards for bravery any time soon.
Unlike his partner, Officer Davis didn’t seem to agree with Noah’s opinion on his cowardice.
“Probably a good thing,” the man said with a decisive nod. “It’s best not to get in the way of a feral omega, if you can help it. Especially not one of Mr. Hollander’s caliber.”
When the officers stepped outside, Noah could hear them talking as they walked away.
“You really think a feral omega would be capable of stealing a car, never mind driving away in it?” Officer Burke’s voice was full of disbelief.
“You got a lot to learn,” his partner warned. “There’s feral and then there’s feral. I saw the game, I know where Hollander falls in that range.”
Noah stopped hearing them as they got closer to their patrol car, but he figured he’d heard enough. He set about wiping down the counters and tables, now that the worst of the morning rush was past. They would have a lull before the lunch crowd started trickling in.
The day passed horribly slow, and if not for his car being gone, Noah would be looking forward to closing up the cafe.
Then at 2:45, fifteen minutes before closing, the bells on the front door chimed.
Gina gave Noah a heavy look. He shrugged in response. What could they do? They were technically still open.
To his surprise, there was a whole group of people entering the cafe - the first two being the same officers from that morning.
“We have good news!” the older officer said, somewhat jovial.
Noah smiled. “You found the car?”
“More than that,” the younger officer muttered.
It was then that one of the other people in the group stepped forward - a woman, pretty and probably somewhere around his mom’s age. She also bore a remarkable similarity to the man who’d stolen his car that morning.
“I’m Yuna Hollander,” the woman introduced herself, holding out a hand.
Noah took it, dazed. His guess must have been correct, then. Shane Hollander really had stolen his car.
“I wanted to apologize for all this on Shane’s behalf, though he’ll probably reach out himself too once he’s feeling better,” Mrs. Hollander said, face lined with stress and her high end clothing wrinkled from travel.
Noah was at a loss as to what to say. He went for blunt honesty. “I just really need my car and my apartment keys. I’m not built for sleeping outside.”
She smiled at that and Noah felt his nerves ease. “Of course,” she murmured. “Though I think we can do a bit better than that.”
“You really are lucky the District Attorney was so amused by the situation,” Yuna told her son.
Shane’s head was resting on the table in Ilya’s kitchen. The man in question was working at the stove with David, preparing the four of them something for lunch.
A piteous groan left Shane’s throat. “I didn’t even mean to steal the car.”
“Well, you certainly cut a rather intimidating image on the security footage, so it’s no wonder the poor boy reacted as he did,” Yuna replied mercilessly.
Shane’s head popped up, horror etched into his features. “Security footage?”
“Yep. From the store next door to the cafe.”
“I want to see that footage!” Ilya’s voice piped up in eager delight.
“No!” Shane snapped firmly.
“Give me your contact information and I’ll send you a copy of it,” Yuna replied at the same time.
Shane gaped at her. “Mom!”
She shrugged and watched as Shane’s shoulders deflated at her apparent betrayal. When Ilya grinned over his shoulder at her, Yuna winked at him.
David watched it all, eyes full of mirth.
“You’ll have to apologize in person, of course. I’ve arranged for a couple gifts you can give the poor boy.” Yuna sipped her coffee. “But given that he’s a Boston native…” her words trailed off meaningfully.
Ilya perked up again. “Yes, we must treat a Raiders fan correctly! I will help with the gift and apology.”
“Good,” Yuna nodded, satisfied.
Scowling, Shane shook his head and shared a commiserating look with his dad. It took all of fifteen minutes for Yuna Hollander to get Ilya Rozanov dancing to her tune.
The Russian had no idea what he was in for.
Warmth filled Shane’s chest at the thought. His lips curled as he picked up the soft, fluttery hope hidden beneath blustering cheer and earnest anxiety that came over the fledgling bond. Shane watched his dad and Ilya work around each other by the stove, a conversation starting up about vodka and what to look for in the best ones.
“I’ve heard Polish vodka can be pretty good too,” David said.
Ilya huffed and pointed a spatula at him, voice stern. “Only the ones I tell you. None of the weak fruit flavored shit or I don’t know you and we never speak again, ok?”
David laughed and patted Ilya on the back. “Got it, kid. I’ll heed your advice.”
Two weeks after a very strange and unforgettable Tuesday, as well as the events that followed, Noah opens his apartment door to find a package sitting on the doorstep. He contemplated it a moment - Noah knew if he took the time to open it then, he would definitely be running late for his shift. On the other hand, he can see the return label and he will be insanely distracted all day wondering just what is in the box. Distracted while surrounded by hot coffee…
Nah, he won’t survive it.
Noah set the box on the counter and then scrounged through the drawers for a pair of scissors. While he did so, he mused about the weirdness that had been his life recently.
A few days after his car was returned by Yuna Hollander and Hayden Pike, along with an overly generous monetary compensation, Noah had received a slightly awkward visit from Shane Hollander and his new mate, Ilya Rozanov. Hollander had been a bit stiff and clearly mortified by the entire situation, apologizing several times over. Rozanov… was exactly as expected based on the few interviews Noah had seen.
In short, Rozanov was a smug bastard.
Rozanov even thanked Noah for the use of his car - the man’s explanation why was cut off by Hollander’s elbow digging into his ribs, something Noah thinks he should probably be grateful for.
Ah hah! He found the scissors and swiftly cut through the tape on the package.
True to form, the box is full of Boston Raiders merchandise. Well, mostly. Once Noah started pulling out the Raiders merch, he found a Metros jersey tucked inside the folded Raiders jersey. There were tickets for the next Raiders game too - nice ones.
Noah let out a low whistle as he eyed the tickets. Gina was going to love this.
Maybe Tuesdays weren't so terrible after all.