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The brass 'closed' sign was still on clear display behind the glass door when Rowan Whitethorn arrived at Terrasen Tea Stop, the only sign of life being the foggy panels that indicated a welcome warmth inside.
He knocked on the glass, blowing warmth into his stiff hands, and smirking as Lysandra's distinguishable voice shrieked, "SHIT!" to an accompaniment of clattering metal against a polished surface.
"Aelin," he heard her yell. "Go let your boyfriend in and make him pay for these cookies I dropped!"
"Fuck off Lys!" Aelin laughed, the crisp sound contrasting her near silent footsteps across the floor.
A burred form came into view behind the door, and Rowan tracked delicate fingers that rubbed away the condensation of the glass, revealing the grinning face of Aelin Galathynius. Her golden hair was half pulled up, encircled by a glittering green ribbon that matched delicate, emerald studs in her ears. As she pulled the door open, Rowan took in a deep breath of warmth and the distinctly jasmine Aelin smell.
"Hello Rowan," she purred. "You look particularly ravishing this morning."
"Only for you, Fireheart," he smirked back.
A low grumble sounded from behind the counter, and Aedion emerged with a disgruntled look on his face. "That's my cousin, Whitethorn," he grouched, and Aelin rolled her eyes.
"Can the protective bullshit, Aedion. I can do whomever I like."
"Whatever you like, Aelin." Aedion said with a pained grimace. "You've never had sex in your life. In fact, you don't even know what sex is."
Lysandra sauntered out from the kitchen and gave Aedion a light kiss on the cheek. "Babe," she sighed. "We've been over this 'Lin and I were together for years, I basically taught her everything she knows. And that's a lot."
Winking at Rowan, she threw an arm around Aelin's waist, stroking the line of her stomach, and he turned away from the soft smile Aelin directed toward her best friend.
Aedion shivered, "Don't remind me that's I'm basically in a relationship with my cousin."
At that, even Rowan rolled his eyes, and smirked at Aelin who grinned back at him. She opened her mouth, only to be interrupted by the graceful entrance of Nehemia Ytger, whose fast paced conversation into a mobile phone seemed indistinguishable to even Aelin, whose fluency with the language had sparked their unlikely friendship. Nehemia waved the mismatched group, snapping Rowan out of the Aelin trance he was more commonly privy to falling into.
"I'll have-" he began, but Aelin lightly smacked his cheek and he snapped his jaw shut.
"A latte with almond milk. I know, Rowan, you come in here every day."
"Then do you have-"
"Nope," she popped. "We still don't stock almond milk, you'll just have to have lactose free, as always."
"I had to ask," he smirked. "Gotta keep you on your toes, princess,"
"Buzzard."
"Brat."
"No," Manon Blackbeak deadpanned, her sharp, black nails clearly visible abover her raised hand. "It's far too early to deal with your flirting."
Aelin sighed dramatically and flipped her hair as she turned, lightly touching Manon on the shoulder in greeting. She began walking over to the counter, but paused to cock her hip as she turned back toward him. "Do you want breakfast or not, Bird-Boy? Lys' cooking so it's bound to be divine."
"It's bound to be blackened!" Aedion called from the kitchen, followed by a muffled oww, as Lysandra likely hit him. "What," he hissed. "You can only cook sweet things!"
Aelin's smile turned on him, and he heard Manon mutter something under her breath as she looked between them, stalking through the cafe and flinging open the counter divider. Rowan looked at his watch, twenty-seven minutes before he was expected at work.
"Why the hell not?" he said, and followed her into the kitchen.
Rowan was 17 minutes late when he crashed through the doors to Terrasen on Tuesday. He had debated skipping his morning coffee - Aelin - boost, but decided almost immediately he couldnt survive the day without her - it.
The shop was busy enough that two baristas were working, and Rowan recognised the second one as Dorian, a law student at college who had tried to flirt with Aelin in the job interview. She could barely stop giggling while telling him the story, and he had smirked at the cringing college student behind the counter, whose ears were keen enough to hear every word she said. Dorian waved at him as he pushed through the gathered crowds perusing the menu, and Manon gave him a salute as she pulled four croissants from the cafe display case.
"Rowan!" a voice called and he turned toward Aelin, who stood behind the coffee machine frantically waving a hand at him to move toward her. He made his way through the line of impatient office workers, and college students whose glazed eyes indicated a lack of caffeine and care.
He apologised to one particularly annoyed accountant, whose tailored clothes and good-looks suggested an arrogance and entitlement that Rowan decided was far too early to call out, and he pulled up face to face with Aelin.
"Hey," she said breathless, her hands continuing to move around the machine as she reached across the counter, feeling out the space for some unseen object. Her face lit up as she stilled, and she pulled out a large take-away cup that had drawings of little birds and stick figures all over it. "The usual, of course - No almond milk."
"Thank you," Rowan breathed, so immensely grateful for this woman in his life, and unable to express it in any other way.
Aelin winked, and blew him a kiss as she returned to her coffee-making. "Anything for my favourite customer!" she called as her made his way back through the line.
"Get some, pretty-boy!" Lysandra yelled as Manon let out a loud wolf-whistle.
Rowan rolled his eyes and turned to Aelin, but her head was ducked behind the machine, a red stain on the visible parts of her cheeks. Huh.
Lorcan only ever accompanied him to Terrasen because of his weird obsession with Aelin's adopted sister, Elide. He had hated Aelin when they first met, for no reason it seemed, until two months ago when Fenrys and Gabriel had plied him with alcohol until he admitted that he was jealous over how attached Rowan had grown to her. Rowan had punched him in the face and yelled at him that, we were only together for four weeks and we broke up five fucking years ago, Lorcan. Let it fucking go!
Lorcan has sulked for six days before apologising to Rowan, and he had just sighed and dragged him along to say sorry to Aelin, who had raised an eyebrow at the sulking mass Rowan had towed behind him in the afternoon.
Lorcan had said, sorry for calling you a fire-breathing-bitch-queen and Aelin had said, sorry for calling you an unflattering-mammoth-whore, to which Lorcan had replied that she hadn't - Aelin only raised her chin and said, not to your face. And that had been that.
The smirk Aelin directed toward Rowan's pained face had caused him to bite off a sigh, opening his mouth as Elide walked in the door.
The young nurse had hugged Aelin, Rowan, - and to his immense bemusement and shock - Lorcan, who stood so still Rowan thought he would crack.
Aelin had bit her lip to mask a snicker, and grasped Elide's shoulders as she steered her toward an open table where a hot cup of tea sat steaming next to a laptop charger.
When they had arrived back at Rowan's apartment, Lorcan had turned to him and said, next Friday, before slamming the door as he retreated into the autumn air.
Today, Aelin was engaged in a heated debate with Fenrys, whose was doing everything in his power to be disagreeable, it seemed.
"I'm just curious as to why Maeve," she spat the name with anger, "hasn't given any women a place in her company."
"Because," Fenrys said, picking a chocolate chip out of a cookie he probably hadn't paid for. "Women can't handle the job."
Even Lorcan winced.
"And why," Aelin hissed. "Can't women handle 'the job'."
The cafe had gone deathly silent and Gavriel shifted slightly to stand between Manon, whose nails gleamed in the artificial light, and Fenrys' unprotected back.
"As a rule," Fenrys continued, oblivious to the tension. "Women just can't handle the constant pressures of the job, they're too emotional - especially during that time of the month." He winked at Gavriel who shook his head frantically as Manon's attention shifted to him.
Aelin pounced, grasping the colour of Fenrys' shirt and shoving him against the wall. The vibration seemed to shake the building and even Lysandra had roused from her sleep to peer tiredly through the kitchen door.
"Fenrys," she purred, pulling out a lethal looking knife from... somewhere - Manon looked grudgingly impressed - and angled it against his cheekbone. "Any woman could do your job, and Maeve's job, and they would actually achieve..." she dragged the knife across his skin. "Results."
Fenrys gulped and Aelin tucked the knife back into her belt. "Now," she sighed. "Mind your attitude toward women". She dropped him against the wall.
As she turned, she paused, as through reconsidering. "And Fenrys, if you ever compare mob mother to Maeve again, you'll lose these."
He looked confused, "What-AHHHH." Fenrys groaned as Aelin kicked him in the balls.
Elide, in the corner table, twitched her lips as she turned back to her study.
Rowan looked at Aelin, who looked at Lorcan, then back to him.
"Well," she said. "The usual?"
Rowan was in love.
The football captain was a pain in Rowan's ass. He was fiercely defensive of Dorian - which Rowan could respect, although he struggled to understand - and had once called Aelin a monster for not wearing make-up to work one day. He had apologised profusely afterwards, but it had still hurt Aelin, and made Rowan seriously consider pummelling the kid.
Aedion hated him too, and ignored him each time he came into the cafe. Like today.
"Hey Ashryver, can I use the phone? Mine's out of battery."
"Sorry, bitch," Aedion replied yanking the landline from the wall. "We don't have a phone."
Even Dorian, who loved Chaol profusely, refused to mediate discussions between the two men.
At that moment Aelin emerged from the kitchen, tying her apron around her waist, and giving Chaol a strained smile as she took in his red and gold jersey.
"Sorry," she said, "Lys is a little tied up with her baking. What can I get for you?"
The stark professionalism of her tone seemed to fly right over Chaol, who gave her a sunny smile an replied, "No worries, 'Lena. I'll have the usual."
Aelin froze at the nickname, glared daggers at Chaol as he tilted his head.
"It's Aelin," she grated out. "And I don't care enough to know your usual order, Captain."
Rowan winced, and even Dorian excused himself as Chaol narrowed his eyes.
"Celaena," Chaol deadpanned, and Rowan saw the flash of anxiety in Aelin's eyes as her memories associated with the name ran through her mind.
"That's enough, Chaol." He said. "Aelin would like you to leave. Now."
The cool rage in Chaol's eyes simmered as he sulked out the door, and bashed shoulders with Nehemia as she flounced in through the cafe. Rowan jolted as cool fingers grasped his own, squeezing in gratitude. He reached for the tears in Aelin's eyes, and she leaned into his hand as he drifted a thumb over her cheeks.
"Well," Nehemia raised an eyebrow, and directed a sharp message to Aelin in Ellwye. Rowan opened his mouth to question what was being said, but Aelin had buried her head in his chest and was muttering at Nehemia to go bother someone else, small insults scattered in different languages.
It was still dark when Rowan arrived at the cafe, and Aelin was slumped at the door, with Lysandra's head in her lap, Aedion laying splayed across the floor in the centre of the space. As though sensing his presence, Aelin stirred slightly smiled dozily at him as she shifted to turn the lock. He quietly let himself in and helped her lift Lysandra into a more stable position across the floor.
"Sorry," she whispered. "Last night was the anniversary of Aedion and my parents' deaths. So we all got smashed."
Rowan really looked at her, taking in the smudged mascara under her eyes, and the overwhelming tiredness of her features as he pulled her into the kitchen. Turning on the kettle, he set out two mugs to make tea, and sighed gently as he heard Aelin's treating even out behind him. Aelin was curled up in the chair, with her had resting on her hands, her eyes gently flickering on the brink of sleep. Rowan smiled gently and stashed one of the mugs away, reaching his arms around Aelin and carrying her up the stairs, into her bed.
Her eyes fluttered open as he lay her upon the duvet, and she reached out a hand toward him as he turned to leave. "Stay," she murmured. And Rowan was helpless to that voice, so he pulled of his shoes, sent a quick text to his work, and settled next to her on the bed.
"Thank you, Rowan," she sighed, succumbing to the sleep she deserved.
And maybe it made him a coward, but when he felt her muscles go lax, he looked down at Aelin's peaceful face and quirked his lips.
"No. Thank you, Aelin. For letting me love you."
When Rowan woke up later that evening he found Aelin down the stairs, giggling quietly with Lysandra.
"Hey," he said, rubbing his eyes. "What's the time?"
Lysandra pursed her lips, giving Aelin a loaded glance. "Time for me to go, I think."
She shot Aelin a final look as she sauntered out of the room, and Aelin looked toward Rowan, nibbling on her lower lip as she surveyed his sleep-rumpled state.
"Rowan-" she began, but was cut off by a muffled curse, the sound of Elide's quiet laughter, and Manon's hiss.
Crinkling her brows, she walked toward the door and flung it open to see... well, everyone looking abashed at being caught.
Crossing her arms, Aelin surveyed her family. "I expected this from Aedion, but Nehemia!?" she exclaimed.
Nehemia shrugged, and said something in rhythmic Ellwye, to which Aelin replied with a sharp retort in the language, only to turn and ignore Nehemia's incredulous look at the reply.
"I can't believe-" she began again, then paused, a dangerous glint in her eye. "Actually..." she mused.
"Uh oh," Fenrys cowed. "That look means bad things, and I do love bad things."
"Only good things this time, Fenrys," Aelin grinned and even Lorcan backed away it the sight of it.
And then she was turning on him, that predatory smirk set in the lines of her face as she prowled toward him. Rowan began backing away, only to find his back pressed against the table, the wood digging into his spine as he attempted to further pull away from Aelin. She took a deep breath and looked at him, her eyes seeming to say, Fuck it.
Fuck what? he tried to ask tentatively.
But Aelin only smirked, hopefully...you.
And then she was kissing him. Her soft lips tasting like coffee and mint and Aelin, as her young swept over his own. He bit back a groan, conscious of their audience, and slipped a hand around the back of her head to pull her closer, running a hand through her hair and gripping. Aelin was the one who moaned, and he felt the rumble of it throughout his entire body, nipping at her lower lip as he swept his tongue around her mouth.
"Aelin," he breathed, breaking away from her lips to stare into her eyes, which were as glazed as his likely were at that very moment. "Fuck," he groaned. Aelin looked wrecked.
"Anyone who doesn't leave this kitchen in the next ten seconds will be held personally responsible for what they see," Rowan rasped, and Aedion bolted. "Go!" he roared, and the crowd dispersed, followed by a sulking Lysandra.
Rowan looked back to Aelin, whose eyes had darkened severely and said, "You know I love you, right?"
Aelin smiled, the unparalleled joy on her face filling his heart with everything everything everything. "Rowan, we've practically been married for the last year." Her eyes widened suddenly, and Rowan's smile dimmed.
"What?" he asked.
But Aelin just sighed as she looked at the coffee on the table, then back to him, "That latte has almond milk in it," she pouted. "And you won't even get to-"
But Rowan had claimed her mouth once again, and as her body melted into his he thought, Fuck almond milk, and he swore she laughed in response.