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The scent of dark roast floats through the air, the warm aroma finding a home in the early morning sunlight as easily as honey in the comb.
Eddie has always enjoyed the smell of coffee. Especially in the mornings. Even more so, of course, when he’s not the one that has to pay for it.
The borrowed debit card he’s pulled from his wallet taps an idle rhythm on the side of his thigh, almost certainly to the faint tune playing overhead. It’s something lighthearted and pop-esque - perhaps a “song of the summer” as his kid might say. Eddie can’t say that he’s heard it before, but also can’t say that he’s not enjoying the beat.
There’s only one woman in line in front of him, and she’s been trying to get her tap-to-pay to work for the past thirty seconds or so. He can’t help rolling his eyes a bit - how hard is it to use a card?
He sighs. He shouldn’t be jumping to conclusions - maybe the barista behind the counter didn’t set the system up correctly. He does seem new, at the very least. Eddie hopes that this inevitably long order won’t be an issue.
(He has to be new. Eddie would remember a face like that.)
The small successful ding rings through the air - finally, Eddie thinks dryly - and—
And he rolls his eyes again when the woman leaves with nothing but a cake pop.
“Sorry about that,” the blond behind the register says, a radiant smile on his face despite the brief momentary inconvenience. “How can I help you?”
That smile is - very bright. A lot of lumens to be pointed in one direction, a lot for any one person to handle. Certainly sweeter than any of the sugary scents filling the air.
“It’s fine,” Eddie says, swallowing against the sudden heat rising to his cheeks. Does the guy have to point all of that happiness right at him? “I - I have a pretty long order, if that’s okay?”
“No problem at all,” he says, perfect grin not faltering even for a moment at the sudden stutter.
Eddie’s pulse spikes, for some unknown reason. The guy’s teeth are some of the whitest, pearliest teeth he’s ever seen. His cheeks are rosy, a slight stubble to them, marked by tiny dimples on either side of his cherry red lips.
“…Are you gonna—“
“Yes!” Eddie’s fingers fumble to his pocket, where he knows the list is currently rumpled up. “Yes, I - I have it right here.”
The barista - “Evan” according to his smudged name tag - doesn’t lose his charming smile as Eddie begins to read off of the slightly torn piece of paper. Even as the list grows longer, as it becomes more and more convoluted. He just rings it up, like he’s used to long, overly complicated coffee orders and flustered patrons.
Once the order is completed, the guy fucking winks over the register and says, “Coming right up.”
Eddie nods, pretending his mouth hasn’t gone bone dry and that his pulse hasn’t gone through the roof.
Evan steps to the side and enters a dance, his partners the cups and syrups and foams, like this is a routine he knows like the back of his hand. He moves fluidly, like the machines are extensions of his body. His perfect curls bounce in time with his moves, his ocean blue eyes intensely focused. And all the while, his lips remain upturned.
“Have you worked in a coffee shop before?”
Wow, Eddie. Great question to ask the guy that works at a coffee shop.
“Hm?” Those wide eyes flick to Eddie’s own, his large hands stalling for only a moment before resuming. If Eddie could facepalm in a not socially weird way, he would. “Oh, er - yeah, I guess so. I traveled around a lot, you know, when I was younger. Did lots of odd jobs.”
“Is that right?” Eddie peers over the wall between them, at the wildly practiced way Evan works. “You have a favorite?”
Blond curls bob up and down as he chuckles a bit and pulls a lever. “Ranch hand was pretty fun. But I’d probably have to say bar tending in Peru.”
Eddie can’t help the slight awe he feels growing in his chest at the words. “Wow, so you really did - everything,” he says, before heat floods to his cheeks once more.
Evan smirks up at him but doesn’t say anything, returning to his work in a polite I’m used to people flirting with me way.
Eddie rolls back a bit on his heels awkwardly, looking down at his watch and back up again. Later than he thought, but that’s okay. It’s a good thing it’s not rush hour anymore, and that he should be able to get back to the firehouse in a reasonable amount of time. Lucky break, too, that there appears to be no other customers, since Evan is the only one working.
“Do you work nights?” he asks before he can think better of it. He can’t help but wonder, with how knowledgeable and comfortable Evan seems to be behind this counter. “Like, usually?”
“Do I—“ Evan’s eyebrows lift in what is hopefully mock offense. “Maybe.”
Eddie blows out some air, trying to get a handle on his suddenly free-range tongue. “It’s just, you know—“ He fumbles for words, but his heart calms when Evan chuckles lightly. “You seem so good at this. Though I guess bartending in Brazil would help with that.”
Evan shrugs, and licks his pink lips in a far-too-enticing way. Eddie needs to get a grip. “It certainly hasn’t hurt.”
Eddie nods - like an idiot - and goes to speak again, even though he really needs to keep his mouth shut, and—
The words die on his tongue as he catches a glimpse of Evan’s inner wrist, and a new question takes their place. “You're Blessed?”
Evan’s eyes snap up to Eddie’s own in surprise, before his gaze inevitably twitches to the hand currently holding what has to be Hen’s mocha.
Eddie severely needs to learn to keep his mouth shut around cute boys. Because really - this loose-lipped thing is just getting sad, if not just plain uncomfortable. He shouldn’t be asking a complete stranger that type of question. “I - I mean—“
“It’s cool,” Evan says, smoothly going back to work like nothing happened. “I’ll tell if you do.”
Eddie’s heart squeezes in his chest as he follows Evan’s gaze to the inside of his own wrist, and the small bit of blue that rests there.
He touches it absentmindedly - the same way he does every time someone brings up his Mark. “Nothing special,” he says softly, looking back up to find Evan’s intense gaze completely directed at him. “Just a kind of, danger sense. I’m no Einstein or Superman or anything.”
“Well I’d say,” Evan says, winking again before going back to his task - would he stop that? — “That you have a pretty incredible gift.”
Heat rises to Eddie’s cheeks - he’s never been very good at taking compliments. Redirection, he thinks, a little panicked. “What about you?”
The smirk that flicks over Evan’s lips could be lethal, given the correct ammunition. “Let’s just say I’m pretty hard to kill.”
“Woah” immediately leaves his mouth without his say-so. Those blue eyes find his again not a second later, and he finds himself quickly backpedaling. “I just mean - that’s really cool. You could do a lot with that.”
“So I’ve been told,” he mutters, stirring something with a bit more focus than before.
Eddie opens his mouth again - to explain himself, to apologize, or maybe to tell him about his own line of work - because really, someone with that kind of Blessing shouldn’t be working in a coffee shop, of all places - when he finds his throat closing for a second time.
Evan must see where he’s looking. And - it is odd, he reckons, to meet someone this open about Marks. Someone that isn’t in their line of work not wearing some sort of wrist coverings.
But then Evan is laughing gently, and Eddie’s heart calms down a bit from his slight mishap. “It’s okay - nothing to be weird about.”
Eddie huffs, shoving the list back into his pocket, just for something to do with his hands. “Yeah, no - you’re right, I just - sorry, if I’m prying too much.”
“Not at all,” he says, his smile suddenly a soft thing. “I’m sure you see plenty of this stuff in your line of work.”
“That’s true,” he relents, eyes still flicking back and forth between Evan’s wrists. “I’ve actually got a buddy of mine who insists his Curse is that no one can say the word ‘quiet’ around him. Apparently bad things happen.”
Evan laughs as he adds whipped cream to one of the iced drinks. “I’d believe it. I’ve seen a lot of weird stuff.”
Eddie huffs again, nodding in agreement - or at least, enough agreement to end anymore unsolicited advice about whether or not Chimney is telling the truth. In the silence, he can’t help the way his gaze follows the inside of Evan’s other wrist.
“You can ask.”
Eddie’s heart pounds a bit as they make eye contact once more. “You know, most people are more private about these sorts of things.”
“Good thing I’m not everyone else,” he says with a sly grin. “People forget me.”
Any words Eddie was about to say - which, he’s not entirely sure he could actually remember what they were going to be - die on his tongue. “You - what?”
“They forget me,” he says with a shrug, like it’s a normal fact about the world, like the sky is blue or the sun is hot. “After a certain amount of time, just—“ He does a little explosion motion with his hands, and a frankly out-of-place adorable sound effect to go with it. “Poof. Like we never met in the first place.”
Eddie’s sure his jaw is on the ground.
That’s not like Chimney’s Curse. Or like the little old woman they helped a few hours ago, who was unable to see glass and got a concussion walking into a sliding door.
“So…” Eddie’s mouth works up and down, trying to find any words to say. “Can you, like, be friends with anyone?”
Something in Evan’s smile changes, ever so slightly, at the question.
Oh, Eddie realizes, heart sinking a bit, it’s sadness.
(He’s quickly realizing it might have been there the whole time.)
“The closer I am with someone,” he begins, smile almost wistful, “the longer it takes to forget. Acquaintances, sure, they forget me in like, fifteen minutes, but - yeah. Yeah, I can have friends.”
“That’s good,” Eddie says, latching onto this little bit of hope. “And you have family, right?”
Evan laughs, but the sound cuts Eddie down the middle. “Trust me, I think my parents prefer not knowing I exist. Didn’t really change the amount they talked to me.”
Damn.
He thinks of his own mother, his own father. How suffocating their attention can be, how he has to tiptoe around them, how he sometimes wishes he could leave them behind in Texas the same way he did the rest of his life.
He couldn’t ever imagine them preferring to not know he exists.
“Damn,” Eddie can’t help but mutter. “They sound like a piece of work.”
“So I’ve been told,” Evan says, far too amused, sliding two drink carriers across the low counter at the end of the station. “I hope everyone likes their daily caffeine fix.”
Eddie blinks a few times before realizing the drinks are what he’s been waiting on this entire time. “Oh - yeah, of course,” he says, hastily grabbing for the handles on the tops of the carriers and pulling them to his sides. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“It was my pleasure,” he says, winking again.
It doesn’t make Eddie’s stomach turn, this time. At least, not in the good way.
Because now that he’s caught a glimpse into Evan’s world, he can’t miss what’s been hidden behind his eyes the entire time, through every little moment since he stepped foot into this shop.
Heartache.
“You do have people, though, right?” Eddie can’t help but ask, even as slight condensation from the iced drinks seeps into the fabric of his pants. “Someone that knows you?”
He must have - someone. Someone to call, someone to talk to, someone to know that he exists out in the world, to worry that he’ll come home at night. Even if that someone isn’t related by blood, Evan can’t just - not have anyone.
Eddie, unfortunately, knows the answer before he hears it. And it’s not because Evan’s smile is any less radiant, or that his shoulders have fallen in any distinctive way.
It’s simply that the grief, now that he’s seen it, has nowhere to hide.
“I did,” he says, tilting his head a bit and shrugging. “A whole second family. A best friend, even.”
“Yeah?” Eddie says, setting the drinks back on the low counter, but not letting go. He didn’t know that stepping into this shop would end in this much strain on his heart, and all because of a stranger. “Sounds pretty nice.”
“It was.” Evan’s smile falters a bit, but the unsteadiness is gone before Eddie can even blink. “It really was.”
The small bell jingles behind him - someone else has entered the small store.
“What happened?” he asks, before Evan can leave, before he has to inevitably turn to the next person in line.
Evan’s ocean blue eyes are a war zone, a hurricane of emotions, a deadly mix between mirth and pain. The scrunch of his eyes makes the mark above them twist in a mesmerizing way, in a way that Eddie could probably stare at for hours and never get bored.
“I did something stupid,” he says finally, laughing a bit, but Eddie can’t find a trace of humor there. “I knew what I was playing with, and did it anyway.”
Eddie opens his mouth, but the other customer rings the bell at the front of the shop.
“Be there in a second!” Evan calls, perfect grin back in place. His gaze effortlessly slides back to Eddie’s own. “Hey, don’t feel bad for my dumb mistakes. I’m all good, scout’s honor.”
Eddie can’t help but smile as Evan does a little salute with his words, as he begins to move towards the waiting customer.
His grip tightens around the cardboard handles, the slight burn from the way they dig into his skin hardly registering over the thousand watt smile turning its focus to someone else.
He lifts them back up hesitantly, and begins walking backwards towards the door even more so. He also can’t avoid catching Evan’s gaze one more time before his back hits the exit. “You sure you’re good?”
“Pinky promise,” he says, waving brightly. “Have a good day, Eddie.”
“You too,” he murmurs, not without a fair bit of amused uncertainty as he pushes his way out of the tiny coffee shop.
He sighs as he climbs up into the station vehicle, careful of the drinks as he balances the carriers in the passenger seat. And as much as he doesn’t want to, he pushes the odd encounter at the coffee shop to the back of his mind.
You can’t save everyone, he supposes.
The drive back is uneventful. A few more red lights than expected, but he’s used to the unpredictable traffic in LA. He’s also used to everyone crowding him when he steps into the station with coffee - always ready for their daily caffeine fix.
“You’re the best, Diaz,” Chimney says as he plucks his hot beverage out of the holder. “You say hi to Carol for me?”
“It wasn’t Carol,” he says with a shrug - which is odd, he muses, since she usually works Wednesdays at the tiny shop that’s only five minutes away in their zone. Or at least, only five minutes with good traffic. “It was…”
Chimney continues to stare at him. “You good?”
“Yeah,” he murmurs, handing someone else a cup. “I’m—“
The alarm cuts through his words.
“Damn it,” Chim mutters, setting his coffee down on a nearby bench. “Hope it doesn’t get cold.”
“I wouldn’t push your luck,” Hen quips as she slips by them towards the rig. “Hopefully the rest of the day will be pretty q—“
“No!” Chimney calls after her as she cackles, as they both begin to race over and as Eddie does the same. “I am having a good day. You will not do this to me today.”
Eddie laughs as he passes them and hoists himself into the truck, and feels the smile remain on his face as he slips the headset over his ears and they pull out onto the open road.
Today is going to be a good day, just like Chim said. Even if his coffee ends up going cold.