Another Papadopoulos & Sons fic. BIG SPOILERS FROM THE START OF THE STORY. You've been warned. I apologise for the mangling of the characters here, I haven't seen the film as often as I would like.
Disclaimer: The film doesn't belong to me and I claim no ownership of it. I just hope Double M don't mind me playing.
Harry knew Spiros would have told him he should be nicer to the boy. He made Katie happy, after all.
'Besides,' the voice at the back of his mind - the one that sounded like his late brother - reminded him, 'it was young Mehmet here who first got you thinking with your heart again, instead of your head.' His conscience had a point, he supposed; whatever he'd told himself at the time about taking out the competition, he knew it was really a fervent desire to keep Mehmet away from his daughter that had spurred him on as he tried to oust Hassan. And thinking with his heart had led him to happiness, in the end. He was happy here, working in the old fish and chip shop with his friends and family and, of course, Sophie, who was somewhere in between the two.
So the next time Mehmet dropped by to see Katie while she worked the fryers, he waited until the boy was about to leave and took a deep breath.
"Actually, Mehmet, have you got a minute? I'd like a word." The young lovers exchanged anxious glances before Mehmet nodded warily. They stepped outside, leaving Katie and Laki to try to salvage the chips she'd just almost ruined.
"Is something wrong, Mr Papadopoulos?" Harry didn't reply for a moment, just enjoying the bright, warm sunshine.
"How are your refurbishments going?" The kebab house had been closed for about a month now while it was fitted with a brand new kitchen. Since the mad Greek dance around what had felt like half of London, word had spread and both shops had seen business booming.
"They're finished; we reopen on Monday." Mehmet still seemed to be trying to work out if he was in trouble; Harry took pity on him.
"Katie tells me you've got an eye for property." The boy nodded. "We're looking at expanding - opening a new shop just round the corner. I'm looking at premises next Saturday, and I was hoping you might come along and give your opinions?" A wide, delighted grin spread across Mehmet's face.
"Really? I - yeah, I'd love to! I'll have to ask Dad if I can have the day off though." Harry shrugged.
"Of course. But the offer's there; I'd really appreciate the help. Katie'll probably cover for you if needs be, she loves your dad."
"Nah, it's OK, there'll be someone. I'll go and ask him now."
He jogged off across the road before Harry could tell him it wasn't necessary, greeting a carload of people who'd just turned up as they all piled into the kebab shop. Harry stood and watched as more and more people disappeared into the shop, most carrying trays piled high with food; it was almost twenty minutes later that Mehmet finally emerged again.
"Sorry, I got caught chatting to, well, everyone really. Dad says I can have Saturday off, no problem." Harry nodded distractedly, still watching the crowds descend on Hassan's shop.
"Great. What's going on, are you two having a party?" Mehmet glanced over and waved at a couple of people before turning back to his girlfriend's dad.
"Oh, yeah. It's Eid. We always have a bit of a do after the prayers and that. He must have noticed Harry's blank expression. "End of Ramadan, see? Time for cake!"
"You mean you've been fasting for a month?" The boy nodded proudly.
"Dawn 'til dusk. We're not that religious, but there's some stuff you've just got to do-"
"But you mean you've been standing in a fish and chip shop for hours on end when you haven't been eating all day?" Mehmet shrugged as if it was the simplest thing in the world.
"I wanted to see Katie."
The next Saturday, Harry stood explaining his business credentials and background to an estate agent while James and Mehmet cast keen, if not particularly expert, eyes over the vacant shop.
"Papadopoulos and Sons? Never heard of it," the estate agent admitted, smiling. "And are these the sons?" Mehmet chuckled.
"Maybe one day." Harry turned to look as James thumped him in the arm with the air of one who'd heard it before. Mehmet seemed to realise what he'd said and who he'd said it in front of, face a picture of horror as his girlfriend's father turned back to the estate agent.
"Maybe one day," Harry repeated, "and I'd be very proud." The estate agent blinked. "The youngest's at home," he added, and that was that.