Keith stood behind the counter blowing bubbles foam his gum and popping them with a loud smack. It was a Sunday, a lazy, bundle-up-because-its-cold-outside-but-the-sun-is-out-at least autumn day. It was the week after the local community college let out. The students were still sleeping off the semester, that, or nursing hangovers from the various celebratory drinking fests that were parties post-finals. This left the café empty.

Keith was leant up against the counter. One hip was cocked to the side and resting against the surface. He mused about what it would be like to go to the college. Maybe, he thought, I could study astronomy. It be interesting to see the human's perception on space, as well as learn about the local solar system. There wasn't time to study for him. As soon as his mom had died, leaving only her knife, he'd been taken in by the Blade of Marmora. He'd been only a few taucūrel old (about 8 Earth "years", if he translated that right). The Blades kept him mostly at base; he was only half human, but that seemed to be all his physicality had expressed. No matter how worthy Keith proved himself, Kolivan was always worried sending him out to the field.

At least Kolivan let him work the café. As if Keith wouldn't have let up until Kolivan allowed it.

Keith spat his chewing gum (a candy that was made to only do that) into the trash and began to wipe down the counters. It was nearing 2pm and he was ready to make himself a latte and study his book for 15minutes. He tossed the dirtied rag into a basket and gave a fully body stretch. It came complete with obnoxious noises and balancing on the tips of his toes.

He removed the can of pumpkin purée from the shelves. He'd taken to the seasonal favorite, Pumpkin Spice. It was made out of a pumpkin, which was a type of vegetable, and some spices called cinnamon, ginger, and nutmeg. It was a rich drink and a great comfort to fight against the chill of the autumn.

The soft tinkling of the bell above their door rang. Keith contemplated, for a second, lifting his head to investigate (and greet, Thace would later reprimand him for his cultural mistake), but the pumpkin wasn't spiced yet. The guest would have to wait until the ginger was shaken out.

"Excuse me." That was a new voice, Keith thought. There were never new voices in this sleepy town.

"Just gimme a moment," Keith thumbed opened the tops of the two other spices and quickly shook them into his mug. He bent down to smell the beverage and hummed in satisfaction, "Ok. Done. What can I star-"

Keith had, finally, looked up.

Woah, was all his brain supplied him. The man standing on the other side of the counter was something else. He was built like much larger than most humans he'd seen so far and, thankfully (or, perhaps, unthankfully), was wearing a revealing type of shirt called a tanktop. His skin was stretched tight over muscles.

"Uh." At least Keith wasn't the only one looking dumbly. "Any recommendations? What's that?" The man pointed at the pumpkin spice latte he had just finished making.

Keith looked down at it as if it would supply him with an answer. Apparently, the beverage was having an identity crisis. All it did was billow off steam.

"Oh, this. Sure. It's- good?"

"I'll take one order of goo-That. One order of that." Damn. The man chuckled and his cheeks pushed his eyes into a smile. A reddish-pink glowed beneath his skin. The man was folded in on himself. His posture made Keith curious, so he filed the information away to ask another human later.

Keith nodded and turned towards the machine. He dumped out the grounds from his own latte and scooped in fresh ones. His hands worked quickly as he made it, pouring in the water, brewing the espresso, steaming the milk, and garnishing the drink in less than a minute.

"Whipped cream?" Keith asked. He looked up long enough to see the man nod.

Cup all assembled, and heat sleeve slipped around it, he handed the cup over.

He took a testing sip. Keith watched his protruding adam's apple bob against the tightly muscled throat. He offered an appreciative hum when he brought the cup down.

"Lives up to its name."
Oh, Keith realized, he was making a joke. He turned from Keith and began walking towards the door.

"Wait!" Keith called out and rushed from behind the counter. "You haven't paid for that!"

The man had looked large where Keith had stood to take his order. But being directly in front of him made Keith feel very, very small. At 5"2' (a measurement of height in American metrics. He was .2122 desgens) This man, well, he was ridiculously beyond average, from the humans he had seen. Keith estimated that he was .75 desgens.

Over .75 desgens (6'), or not, Keith was not intimidated. The man was still far smaller than the average Galra. If he had planned to use his size to bully, he had "another thing coming". So he held his hand out towards the man, palm open and waiting to receive money. There would be no '"dine and dashing" on his watch.

The man turned back around and it seemed like he, too, was just realizing their size difference. He blinked down at Keith's waiting hand. Then his eyes flicked up to make eye contact. Keith bristled. With a grimace, that said he really had just forgotten, he reached into his pocket for some dollar bills. The hand not holding the cash wrapped around Keith's wrist. Keith startled a bit at the contact, but otherwise held the eye contact. The man's other hand cupped the money into his palm. His eyebrows were furrowed, pushing up the skin between them. It was a gentle and disarming expression, if Keith was correct.

"Sorry about that. Keep the change."

Just like that, the contact was gone and the man was making his way out of the door.

Keith rang it up on the register and dumped the change (which was a few bills and some coins) into the tip jar.

"My pumpkin spice is cold. Damnit." He sighed and slumped over. He was glad to be the only one in the shop, because he popped the mug into the microwave. Not exactly a "kosher" thing to do in a café. But it worked for Keith, and he saw no sense in throwing out his perfectly good drink.

Looking around the room, he was still the only one there. It wasn8t something he worried about, being a small town meant most people all went to work and left it at the same time. Their café was usually either busy or else dead. Keith took his mug and gingerly picked up his book and notebook from underneath the counter. Most people hadn't seen a physical book in quite some time, if the humans' stares and questions were anything to go by. The book in question had a spine bent in several places. The pages were yellow and fragile. He was as careful as he could be with it, because it was the last souvenir his mom had brought home. The time after she didn't even bring herself home.

Learning written Old Standard Terran (English is what they had called it) had been a task in itself. But it had kept him busy. At least, it was something he'd done when he had free time. When his mother passed away, a group called the Blade of Marmora had been the one to both deliver the news and the knife that she had kept strapped to her belt. His mom hadn't told him what her line of work was, and it was them who told him everything. At least, as soon as he completed their trial and entered their ranks.

Keith was young and he was the smallest Galra they'd ever seen. His father had come from the stars, Earth, as he now knew. But whatever he lacked in size, Keith had copious amounts in strength, perseverance, and tenacity. The Blades were quick to welcome him once he'd demonstrated this.

This book was his connection to the past; to his late mother and his Terran father, who, he hoped, was out there somewhere.

He spread out his armful on the table before him and lost himself in his studies of "Learn Swedish".

Keith was lost in his book when he heard a voice next to him. He stiffened and glanced from the courner of his eye.

"Keith, you didn't hear me come in. What if I had been a customer? You would have made me wait around while you slacked off?"

"Sorry, Kolivan." Keith slumped over the table and stretched his arms in front of him.

"It is of no consequence this time. But, pray tell, what allies you, kit?" The chair next to him squeaked as Kolivan pulled it out. He dropped into it and sighed. His normally stiff posture broke as his shoulders slumped. Keith made clawing motions at the wood beneath his fingers.

"Nothing. What's wrong, did Iverson 'give you crap' today?"

Kolivan ducked his head and regarded him with a raised brow. Keith responded with an equally raised brow, and he let out a short chuckle.

"It was far easier a war of battle than this one of diplomacy. During the meeting one officer had left the room without excuse. I was pulled aside and asked to "brush up" on Earth's customs."

"What happened to Princess Allura? Wasn't she supposed to give us lessons?" Keith huffed. If they wanted the Blades to act like them, they needed to send a teacher.

"Yes, well, we are not priority at this moment. The Princess is busy as you would imagine the Intergalactic Relations Diplomat would be at this time. I am inclined to agree with your sentiment, though, kit. This world is still undeveloped by galactic terms. There is much we need taught in."

Keith nodded and hummed. His arms folded on the table and he rest his cheek against them. Kolivan reached his hand out and stroked Keith's hair. It was large and engulfed his whole head. He could feel the vibrations of purring through the contact. He sighed. It was a point of shame and alienation for him, to be unable to hear much of sounds his fellow species made. His entire physicality was human. Yet, he was Galra in every way. Keith purred at the soothing pets of his head fur, albeit in a human frequency.

"We will understand them, and they us, in time, Keith. Do not despair."

Kolivan scooted his chair out and stood up with a stretch. He bent nearly in half and brushed his cheek against Keith's, whom smiled and returned the gesture.

"Let us see you back behind the counter, and I back to business. Antok prepares the meal for tonight, so there is that to look forward to."

Keith collected his things in his arms and said goodbyes. He felt much better already. Antok made the best comfort food, and, despite mostly Terran ingredients, the closest to actual Galran taste of all the members. It was also not his turn to wash dishes. There was still hope for a good day.

About an hour later people started to trickle in. Keith recognized just about everyone at this point, a few months working there and it was still uncommon to see new faces. It had taken them awhile, though, before the humans trusted them enough to patron their café. Even still, the occasional person came in to voice their disgust at having aliens on Earth. It was about the only thing positive of looking human, Keith had realized, was that people felt safer to come in. It made him angry, of course, but they needed Earth money, to pay for Earth things, while they lived here, on Earth. Keith would make the sacrifice to support his family.

Finally, 5pm came around. Keith had been watching the clock that hung over the door. He smiled as the little bell on the door rang at 5:03. In walked a group of three people. One of them was a mature man, with skin that crinklednat the courners of his eyes. The other was a young man, maybe a little older than Keith (if Keith's body had physically aged the same as humans) with a sharp smile and scar at the bottom of his chin. The last was a girl, a little younger than Keith, with big, round glasses and a small gap in her two front-teeth. The Holt family had been coming in everyday after work since it opened. It had been an endless stream of questions and sparkling eyes for Keith. No other humans had been as keenly curious about the universe, aliens, and himself, as them. It had become mutual swappings of stories as time went on. Matt, the boy, had especially taken to Keith. For a human, he was easy to talk to.

"Hey, Keith!" Matt rushed up to the counter and balanced the weight of impact on th heels of his palms against the edge of it. He was out of breath, as if he'd just ran, but managed a goofy grin anyways. Pidge, his sister came up much slower. Sam was at the rear.

"Wow, Matt, rude," she reached up and tugged at Matt's ear, earning her a look, "Excuse him. We've just had an interesting day. We'll have the usual, thanks!" She dug a hand into her pocket and pulled out a few bills. It was always more than the cost of the order, but Keith knew by now that the excess was a "tip". It's what people did when they got good service, in the United States, anyways. He tapped the order on the register and divided the money between it and the tip jar.

Matt came over as Keith was making the drinks.

"Keith, hey. How's it going?"

"Hey. You're sure excited today." Keith set the first finished drink in front of Matt.

"I'm not -technically- supposed to say. You know how it goes. Don't think I didn't notice that subject change there, though. You ok?" Matt spoke the last part in a near whisper.

Keith rolled his neck and put his hands in the pocket on the front of his apron.

"Yeah. Just. Rough day? No, I mean the day wasn't bad. I just. It's me? I-" he clucked his tongue as he finished up the next drink, "I miss home. Wherever that is."

Matt took a long sip from his mug. He'd been hit on the head just right once, and he barely felt temperature, or much of anything in his mouth. Keith scolded him on waiting, but Matt just waved him off. He was stalling his response, Keith realized.

"Y'know, I missed home a lot too. The only human company I had when we were captured was Shiro. And that only lasted until they put us in the gladiator ring." Matt drummed his nails against the mug, causing a soft tink from it. He needed space to talk, so Keith was quiet as he finished up their order.

"It's normal to miss home. I know it's not what you'd like to hear but, sometimes you need to just allow it. Shutting down is just going to make it harder to deal with. If you're afraid to talk with your people, maybe you don't want to cause them hurt, then find someone. It can be anyone. Just someone, that you can talk to."

Keith wiped his hands along his pants.

"Thanks, Matt."

Matt smiled and gathered up the mugs to head over to his dad and sister.

The store filled with the sound of their laughter and chatter.

These humans gave Keith hope that one day the others would accept him and his people.