A/N: …because my year ain't a year without a year-ender, no matter how warped my writing style will get.

Coffee, Chocolate, Mead and Tea
Oneshot

I'm nervous. I try and hide it but it's not exactly easy to push down stomach butterflies with mittens as thick as these. I fiddle with my small bag of gifts: three small boxes of my finest cakes. I wonder if it's going to be enough for them.

I mean, I haven't seen these guys in over…ten years perhaps. We keep in touch, of course, but emails can only get us so far (or close). In truth, I hear more about them on the news, riding on success, at least Robert is. His emails read otherwise, though. Of course, who'd want to hear about business successes in a personal email?

…who am I kidding? I'm not putting my friends past that. Hah.

I sigh again. What about me? Where have I gotten myself? I've stayed in Paris since my team and I fell out of the Beyblading scene. Suffice to say, my restaurant (whom I love to bits and pieces) kept me busy. I got countless offers to work abroad, because five star hotels in countries with more commendable economies pay better. I declined them all and worked with my dad and my dedicated kitchen staff and friends to raise the restaurant to the top. Money won't buy me there, I knew.

She's now ranks amongst the finest in the world. Aside from that, I think the last time I've been on a plane was when I was still sporting! I suppose it's unhealthy for me to lower myself like this. But then with the New Year a little over twenty-four hours away and without the distraction of the busy holiday shift, I can't help the sudden feeling of loneliness overwhelm me.

It's not loneliness exactly. Perhaps sentimentality would be more correct, but at any rate, I watch the snow fall and wait on this cold park bench with a weight in my chest. I press my palms to my lap in an attempt to curb the anxiety. I'm wrapped in layers of designer winter wear but my legs still feel cold.

I check my cellphone beside my bag and reread Enrique's message of 'I'm picking the two up from the airport. We'll be there in a jiffy!' for the umpteenth time and sigh.

A reunion. A Majestics reunion.

My heart skips a beat at the thought.

"…Oliver?"

I look up.

Enrique's running toward me, waving his arms in the air. Or at least I think it's Enrique. He's tall and gangly and tan now. With glasses. I feel the heat rise to my cheeks.

"Luxembourg Park, huh? Figures…"

Johnny follows right behind him, carrying a stack of what I presume to be presents. His hair is still up, held neat and out of his face by a bandana. There's a slightly intimidating air of formality around him and I sit up in my seat.

Somewhere in the distance, I hear the beep of an expensive car being locked. Robert is the last to join us, wrapped in leather and looking fresh. His hair is gelled back like always but what startles me is how easily he finds it to smile.

"Yo!"

…yo?

Enrique waves a hand in my face. "Oli! How's it going, man?! You look like you've seen three ghosts!"

I can't let them know I've got tears in my eyes. "How long has it been?" I manage to say, breaking into a smile. "I can barely recognize you guys anymore!"

Robert chuckles warmly. "It'd do you good to visit. It's not like we're very far away."

"Damn straight," Johnny adds. "Well, except for Enrique."

I feel momentarily lost. "W-wait guys, want to settle down somewhere? We can catch up better that way."

Enrique flashes me a killer smile and the memories of childhood threaten to send me reeling. "Dude, your resto! It's been ages since I ate there!"

Robert draws himself up, seemingly ready for a walk. I notice his boots look new. "Indeed."

Johnny scoffs, a sound which I marvel at remaining unchanged for years."French food, huh. I suppose I'll make an exception this time."

I can't help but laugh. "Trust me, mes amis, there are too many people there. It's still the holidays. If you miss my cooking that bad, I can fix dinner for us at home."

"Hah! Immodest as always," Johnny jeers good-naturedly.

"Right now, I'm in the mood for a hot cup of coffee," I continue. "There's a new place that opened just a couple of blocks down the road." Turning to Robert, I ask, "Is your car going to be alright?"

Robert shrugs an affirmative and we all trek the snow covered sidewalks.

- - - -

I can not believe it's really Oliver right beside me.

This skinny dude with short green hair looking like the epitome of androgyny. In a fit gray turtle neck of all things, and boots with heels. I mean, man! Time is a mind blowing thing, I tell ya. If he says he couldn't recognize us, then right back at him!

I shimmy next to him as we walk down the street, to the café he says is perfect for combating cold weather such as this. I try and peek into his plastic back and laugh uproariously when he looks mildly affronted at my intrusion of his personal space.

Gosh, I miss the looks his face makes.

I miss everything about this place, Paris. The sights, the sounds, the smells. Besides, it's been a while since I've eaten a proper, lavish, seven course meal prepared by my best friend aka the best chef in the world (even if Oliver himself doesn't know yet, dense guy, always has his head in the clouds).

I wolf whistle at a couple of women in particularly stylish trench coats. They laugh as I get nudged by Oliver in the ribs.

"Mon Dieu, En. You never change," he says, amusement dancing his eyes.

"Oh but I do. This is all just good fun," I reply and watch in mild curiosity as the smile slides off his face.

"I guess you're right," he says and picks up his own mood. "How have you been doing lately?"

Oho, where do I start? America has been great.

Well sure, there's that conquering the perils of university and then medical school and then board exams. Right now, I am so enjoying my residency. I mean, I get to boss people around like how I was not too long ago, hah!

Life's been freer for me basically. Specialization to go before I'm a proper, respectable doctor. Frankly, I like working with kids. I might go into neurologic pediatrics.

Oliver seems surprised to find me good with kids.

"You've given up girl hunting? I'm surprised…" he says in a tone that's hardly surprised.

"I've been committed long ago, you know that," I give him a look he's supposed to know and feel a perverse sense of self satisfaction when he blushes.

"Oy, bloody love birds! Is this the place?"

Johnny's annoyed and annoying as usual. We look up and see him pointing to a charming café with a country cottage façade. There's a cup of what looks like espresso hanging from its entrance. Oliver lights up.

"They're open today! Yes, it is! Let's go inside!"

"…you recommended a place you didn't know whether it would be open or not?" I hear Robert ask amusedly.

Oliver laughs as he rushes ahead of us. "This place is owned by a dear friend. We'd be let in either way."

Typical Oliver for you. We seat ourselves by the window while Oliver orders for all of us. The place is small, quite dingy and comparable to a British pub, but it feels homely you can't bring yourself to doubt it.

Probably because the feeling is like time frozen here and we could stay as long as we want.

- - - -

Robert exhales deeply and looks around our tiny wooden table as if expecting something. Enrique's looking like a moronic pimp. Oliver over at the counter looks more gay than girl (bloody hell if I know it's an achievement on his part) and as for me, well, I've gotten old.

I don't see much of the team save for Robert. The nature of my job involves the occasional interaction with him. Do I enjoy it? Let's just say the ol' Rob isn't much of a prat back when we were kids. I suppose that's saying something about our work ethic.

Beyblading seems like a distant dream and to be honest I don't think us guys can be as close as we were after the fallout. Nothing like saying goodbye to your athletic career as a rousing session of male bonding. Oh how my brothers flipped when they found out I'd failed the family heirloom.

It's all good now. I'm their boss. And you guessed it, I inherited the family business like any other respected Scottish royalty back in Glasgow. I don't do much. Fine, that's an understatement but I've gotten used to the amount of businesses my parents had established and maintained all over the world. I fly a lot. Once or twice threatened by the mafia, been on the verge of bankruptcy but it's all in a day's work.

Looks like the guys more or less have their lives cut out for them. I mean, Enrique's a doctor, Oliver's a chef and Robert's a lawyer. Clean, straight lines into the future. As for me? I suppose I can't compare. We're on separate tracks now.

Oliver returns with steaming mugs and I tell myself God damn who am I kidding? I've missed the kid's cooking. Frog or not, he prepares great meals. The best I've ever had, and it's probably true, coming from me. I've been invited to a ton of business dinners and nothing comes close to the taste of Oliver's cooking.

I'd hate to admit this cheese but it's most likely because of home attached to it.

"Coffee for En," Oliver's saying while he hands out our drinks. "It's neither too strong nor too sweet. You'll love it. Mead for Robert. My friend's special blend. And tea for Johnny." He gives me a wink and adds, "I've told him how you like it."

Skeptically, I take a sip and my eyes widen in surprise.

Damn it McGreggor, it's been way too long since you've had a good cuppa. Damn too long.

I choke out a thank you. Oliver gives me a brilliant smile and I can't help but laugh a bit at how it's never changed.

Enviable lives my friends lead.

"How are you parents, John?" Oliver asks, digging into a slice of plain-looking cheesecake I didn't notice earlier. I pick up one of the forks beside the tiny plate and poise myself to take a bite.

"Ma and Da are fine. They're retired now—"

"They should be." Enrique butts in.

I frown. "You know they bred young. They're still perfectly capable of working though James decided against it. 'Bout time they settled down, y'know? Jill's already in high school."

Oliver sighs dreamily. "How time flies by."

I couldn't have put it better myself.

Enrique begins talk of other things. Robert joins the conversation. I take a back seat and enjoy my tea, listening to us catch up with each other. Oliver's laughs now sound like the tinkle of the bell when the café door opens. It's been a while since I've seen Robert so wound down and unguarded.

It must be the mead.

For a moment, our eyes meet and he smiles. It takes my breath away.

- - - -

The ambiance is enchanting. The mug of hot mead in my hands takes me back to the days we used to stay together as a team in my house back in Leipzig, mostly forgoing practice in favor of lazing around. I thought of it uncouth back then, but in retrospect, I suppose kicking back wasn't such a bad idea after all.

It's simply amazing how everyone's fallen into sync, as if neither time nor distance separated us. Naturally, Oliver and Enrique rode on the same wavelength. Even if they had a warped continuum between them, I doubt a day would come when they wouldn't get along in a snap.

I've missed company like this. Honest people you could trust, whom you could be entirely silly with. Of course, I enjoy my work. It's engaging, but the people I work with can get taxing.

Most people from the outside have his common perception of lawyers being the largest ratio of liars in the world. I won't try to deny it, not after the exposure I had working with various American firms. I could have been an engineer, or a forensic scientist, but father wouldn't let me.

I suppose it's all for the best. Every day is a mental challenge as well as a moral one. I get to meet Johnny, occasionally. Goodness knows how dashing the man can look in a proper business suit. But you can never seem to tame his hair, perhaps the only semblance of himself in the corporate world we've been thrust into by duty.

As noble as it sounds, there are exhausting days, there are otherwise. As the years roll by, they blend into a thin stream of 'work'. I am not as practical as Jonathan, who perceives life opposite of mine. He lives each day as if it were his last. Not very healthy if you ask me, but I suppose there's thrill to it. He takes time to appreciate everything around him, maybe that's why he gets along with Oliver and Enrique, even if he won't admit it.

They'll always be kids to me.

I look fondly at Oliver and Enrique chatting merrily away and remember something. Johnny accidentally kicks one of the packages I brought along under the table.

"Ready for the gifts?" I ask. My friends' faces light up.

I give Oliver a posh leather jacket, Enrique a 180-year old vintage and Johnny a Rolex.

"I must say, Rob," Enrique says, examining the bottle with care. "You've come a long way from when we were kids."

I wave the indirect thanks off. "Age tends to do that."

"You all know you won't get anything from me," Johnny says fiercely, but bringing out a large paper bag from under our table all the same. "But Ma insisted…"

Recognition dawns on Oliver's face. "No way…" he says. "Could those be?"

Hand-knitted sweaters from Mrs. McGreggor. I keep my collection of them at the bottom of the closet along with the moth balls. But I probably should air them out and wear them, lest Jonathan be angry with me.

Enrique gives us rare books and Oliver gives us cakes, which I dearly look forward to devouring tonight, while watching fireworks.

We sit and talk for a while more. A glowing sunset finds us with cold mugs and sated faces. Oliver picks up the tab and we leave the café. I feel like time is moving once more. Curious little shop that is.

We walk back to my car parked in Luxembourg Park. Oliver calls his househelp to prepare for us guests. Enrique and Johnny have fallen into an exchange of light banter. If I closed my eyes right now, I could take myself ten years back and convince myself things will always be like this.

"Hey Oliver," I say as he finishes placing his call. "May Johnny and I borrow one of your rooms?"

The way Johnny colors and how fast he does is priceless. Oliver scoffs while Enrique laughs.

"Oh Robert," Oliver tells me. "We don't see each other for ten years and the first thing you do is make the mansion into a motel."

There's an unmistakable smile on his face, and the way his and Enrique's eyes meet tell me what they're planning isn't going to be very different from ours.

The snow continues to fall as we hop in my car. I suppose we'll greet the New Year in our beds, catching up in a much more effective way than coffee, chocolate, mead and tea.

END

A/N: Have a Happy New Year guys. I love you all.