Yes, it's a new fic. I will get back to DLiB, but I needed a break. Yes, we're in Baltimore again, in my neighborhood actually, but this has zero to do with Painted Angels.
Red.
Red, shiny, slick, and that smell.
Red everywhere, on everything.
There was so much blood.
Wide hazel eyes staring at him in fear.
The knife slipped from his blood splattered hand, falling to the floor with a loud clatter.
A whispered voice - what did you do? - and then he was running.
Running hard and fast, and never looking back.
"He's here again."
Andrea Lafitte hissed the words at her husband before grabbing a tray of sandwiches and heading back to the dining room.
Benny sighed.
He finished the burger he was making, slid it onto a plate and dumped a mess of fries next to it. The boy's eyes followed the plate as Sherrie scooped it up for table four.
Benny had seen hungry kids before. Saw 'em lots of times, in fact. This part of Baltimore, the economy wasn't so great. All big factory jobs had dried up, and a lot of folks just didn't have much anymore. Still, this boy's hunger - it was strong. It was strong, and it was shriveling him up inside.
He'd seen him three times in the last seven days. Dirty light brown hair, pink lips almost too pretty for a boy, freckles dusting across every square inch of exposed skin - he'd come in, order a coffee and a water, sit for a bit, sometimes an hour or two, then leave. He always paid, and he only ever order coffer, but watched food go by longingly, often taking deep, gulping breaths of the aromas.
He was starving. Benny was sure of it.
Andrea was a good hearted woman. She really was. But it made her nervous to have this unwashed teen sitting in her diner not ordering anything. Benny thought maybe he understood. It was February, after all, cold and miserable. Boy probably just came in to warm up for a bit. Likely, he was homeless, broke, and bought the coffee when he could scrape up a $1.15 plus tax in coins from the street. He'd only allow himself two cups, and then he'd leave.
He was halfway through his second cup now.
The kid looked worse since the last time he'd been in, thinner, dirtier. Dark shadows ringed the underside of dull green eyes. He looked ill; filthy. Benny couldn't take it anymore.
"Carlos, buddy, take over here, brotha."
"You got it boss."
Benny scooped up a menu, grabbed a basket of rolls and some butter. He walked out to the dining room, plenty aware of Andrea's eyes on him, aware that she probably knew what he was doing and didn't approve.
He slid into the booth across from the kid, who startled and looked up.
"Hey there. I'm Benny. Own this here place."
The kid stared blankly at him. Benny handed him the menu.
"What can I get you to eat, son?"
Cheeks flushed bright red, and the kid stared down at the tabletop. "Coffee's fine," he mumbled, so soft Benny almost didn't hear it.
"Now, I know you can't afford it. That's fine. That ain't what I'm askin'. I'm askin' what you want to eat, son."
"Can't - I mean - I -"
"Look," Benny said gently, "I know it's been a long time since you ate. How long's it been? Two days? Three?"
"A week," the kid whispered, and he shivered, one lone tear cutting a path through the dirt on his cheek.
"Damn. Alright, look. Anythin' off the menu. Ain't askin' for nothin' in exchange, but you ain't gonna leave without somethin' in your belly."
"But -"
"No buts, kid. What's your name, anyhow?"
"Dean," he murmured.
"Alright, Dean. You like burgers?"
He nodded.
"Cheese and bacon? Fries?"
Dean nodded again. "Extra onions," he mumbled.
"Extra onions. How 'bout pie. Like pie?"
The first flicker of a grin danced across Dean's face as he nodded again.
"Alright, then. I'm gonna go make you some fries, a bacon cheeseburger, and a chocolate shake. Sound good?"
"Yessir."
"Don't you sir me. I'm only forty-two for pete's sake." Benny scooped the menu off the table. "Help yourself to that bread while I'm gettin' this."
He walked back to the kitchen, grinning when he heard the soft scratch of the bread basket against the Formica table top.
"I swear, Benjamin Lafitte. Ain't never gonna get out of Dundalk if you keep this up." Andrea slammed a plate down on the prep counter. "Feed one stray, end up feedin' all of them."
"'Drea -"
"And then we'll have a line out the door. Ain't got nothin' against soup kitchens, but I ain't runnin' one!"
"'Drea -"
"I mean, seriously, Benny. We're so close to being able to sell this dump and move back to New Orleans -"
"Stop pickin' on my diner. A week, 'Drea."
She frowned, soft pale skin wrinkling on her forehead. "What?"
"He ain't eaten in a week. Had to 'Drea. Poor kid, looks like he's maybe eighteen, and hasn't eaten in a week. I won't take in all the strays, I swear, but -"
"A week?" she asked quietly, expression softening.
"Yeah."
"Oh."
Benny tossed two burger patties on the grill. "So I'm gonna feed him. Send him on his way. I doubt he'll be back. I think he's embarrassed. Probably gonna up and disappear." He flipped the burger patties and tossed some bacon on the grill. "Wonder what his story is, anyway? Awful young to be out here in the world all alone, huh?"
"It happens, Benny." Andrea peered out the window at where Dean was sitting, chewing carefully on a roll. "He seems to have good table manners. Guess someone raised him up right, at least."
"Hmm." Benny put a couple of slices of cheddar on a patty, added two slices of bacon. He added the second patty, more cheese, more bacon. Andrea handed him a plate with the bun ready to go, and he slipped the patties onto it, set lettuce, tomato, and a pickle spear on the plate and a stack of onions on top.
"Too many onions," Andrea protested.
"Kid said extra onions. So extra onions."
Andrea didn't say a thing when he put the equivalent of two orders of fries on the plate. Setting the plate in the warmer, he quickly made a chocolate milkshake, leaving a bunch of ice cream in the bottom of the mixer. Benny grabbed the plate, the milkshake, and the mixer cup, and hip checked the swinging kitchen door.
"Here ya go, kid," he announced cheerfully, setting everything on the table.
Dean's eyes went comically wide. "Holy cow."
"Eat up, ok?"
He nodded enthusiastically, reaching for the shake and taking a nice, long pull through the straw. Benny left him too it.
Back in the kitchen, he helped Carlos fill more orders, tossing a large wedge of pecan pie in the warmer for when the kid was done.
A short time later, he was sitting back in front of the kid, watching as he inhaled the pie.
"Pecan is my favorite," Dean said happily. "Thank you. I was so hungry and -" His cheeks flushed scarlet. "Anyway, thank you."
"Welcome." Benny patted Dean's hand. "See ya around, kiddo. Ever get hard up like that 'gain, you come see me. Ok?"
Dean nodded.
"Alright then." Benny smiled, and went back to the kitchen.
Dinner rush started not long after that, and he didn't think about Dean for the rest of the day.
Driving home on Wise Avenue that evening, Benny did think about Dean again. Andrea was dozing in the passenger seat, as Benny signaled, and a boy passed crossed Lynch Road in front of the car.
He was a little older than Dean, not by much, and the angry, hardened eyes that stared back at him were nothing like the sad, green eyes he'd seen in his diner that afternoon. He wondered if Dean had a place to sleep that night. The temperature was dropping fast. It was 28 degrees and falling.
Benny parked the car in front of their little rowhouse on Grey Haven Road and shut it off. He hoped Dean was safe - and he hoped he'd see him again.
Three days later, he got his wish.
"I could wash dishes. Clean floors."
"Jesus!" Benny stumbled back, almost falling through the back door and into the kitchen. "Scared me half to death, Dean!"
"I'm sorry. I didn't - I'll go." The kid's face fell, as he shoved his hands into his dirty jacket and turned away.
"Don't go, c'mon. You jus' scared me. Ain't no big thing. Come back here."
Dean shuffled back to the bottom of the stairs, but didn't look up.
"Now, you askin' me for a job?" he asked gently.
"Well, no - I mean - I just -" His shoulders slumped. "I'm hungry. I thought maybe I could do chores for a burger, maybe a couple of pieces of toast. I um," Dean sniffled, rubbed at his eyes, but still didn't look up. "I'm so hungry. And I don't want to keep bothering you. I had some money, but I - I -"
Benny's heart clenched as two fat tears rolled down Dean's face and dripped onto the dirty coat.
"I lost it. Well, someone took it." He looked up, expression totally wrecked. "Just a couple of pieces of toast. And I'll take trash out, or clean or something. Please?" he pleaded, eyes wide.
Sighing, Benny dropped heavily onto the stairs, wincing at the feel of the cold metal under his ass. "Where's your folks, kid?"
Dean shuddered. "Don't have any."
"Ok. Look, I actually need a busboy. How 'bout I pay you for your work? Give you a job? How old are ya, anyways?"
"Twenty-one."
Huh. Benny was sure he was younger. Maybe it was the thinness - maybe he was lying - Benny didn't care.
"Ain't got no one?"
"No," Dean shivered. "Just me."
"Ok, look. Now you're probably lying to me about something, probably your age. I don't think I care. C'mon in, let's get you in somethin' clean, wash your hands and face. Gonna start you washin' dishes. Thing you can handle that?"
Dean nodded.
"Alright. Let's get you somethin' to eat first. But at any rate, you got a job, ok? Long as you ain't a deadbeat, and show up and work, I'll pay you, and you can eat free once every shift. Alright?"
Dean nodded again.
"Well, let's get you started."
Dean proved to be a very good employee. He showed up well before his shift, worked hard, did extra work without being asked, and never gave Benny a reason to regret hiring him.
It was a full week before Benny discovered the kid was most definitely homeless.
"He's been sleeping between the dumpster and the building. Shit, Ben, I didn't know, or I'd have told you sooner."
Benny looked at Dean, sitting in his office with head hanging.
"I found him this morning. Almost decked him," Carlos said softly. "He scared me half to death. I asked him, he said he was just early for work, but then I saw this old ratty blanket back there, put two and two together - anyway. Poor kid. He's such a nice kid."
"Ok. Lemme go talk to him." Benny patted Carlos on the back, before crossing the kitchen to his office. He went inside, quietly shutting the door behind him. "Hey, Dean-o," he said softly.
"Please don't call me that," Dean whispered, shoulders shaking.
"Alright." Benny sat at his desk, folding his hands on top. "Wanna talk 'bout it?"
Dean shook his head, but didn't look up. "Just get it over with," he mumbled.
"Get what over with?"
"Just fire me. I'll go. It's ok."
"Fire you - why the hell would I fire you?"
Dean sniffled. "'Cause I'm useless. Got nowhere to go, come to work all dirty. Eat your food. Should jus' go." Tears streamed down Dean's face, but he didn't look up. He reached down and gathered his things.
"Dean, I want you to stay. You're a good kid, an' you work hard. Don't give me or Carlos no trouble. I want you to stay. But you can't sleep behind the dumpster. Get your stuff together. I'm gonna take you home."
"What?" Dean's head shot up, and he stared at Benny in amazement. "Why - why would you do that?"
"I got an extra room. It's a finished basement, has its own bathroom. I can bump you up to full time here, and you can rent it from me. $100 a month," Benny said, coming up with a number that wouldn't hurt Dean's pride, but wouldn't hurt his pockets either. "There's a fridge and a microwave down there. Buy your own food, come and go as you please. But you come stay with me and 'Drea, alright?"
To his horror, Dean burst into tears and started sobbing, his thin frame shaking with the force of it.
"Aw, what's wrong? C'mon, Dean." Benny moved around from the desk and went down on one knee. "Ain't that bad. It's little but it's comfy and warm. There's already a bed down there, and a TV, and you can fix it up -"
"Not that," Dean wailed, "just can't stand you being so nice to me. I don't deserve it, Benny!"
"Son, you work hard here. That's enough for me. I don't mind giving you a place to live."
"But -"
"Dean, it'll make me feel better to know you got a roof over your head. Jus' let me do this, 'k? I don't care what your story is. Ain't got to tell me. Just clean up after yourself, pay your rent, show up for work. That's all I'm askin'. Alright?"
Dean nodded, and swiped at the tears still rolling down his face.
"By the way, kid. You got a last name?"
"Win- Smith. It's Smith."
That was a bald face lie, but Benny didn't care.
"Ok, Dean Smith. Get your stuff. I'm gonna take you home, and show you the room. Take today off, get a shower, sleep. Alright?"
Dean nodded again.
"Alright then."
"This here's the bathroom. Here's your little fridge, and there's some cabinets to store stuff in. Jus' keep it clean. Don't want no mice or roaches down here. Washer and dryer's upstairs, but no offense - 'til we get to know you a bit better, gonna have to do laundry when one of us is home. Upstairs door'll be locked otherwise." Benny handed Dean a key. "This'll get you in an' out. Gonna schedule you same time as me for now, which means you'll be workin' some ten hour shifts. Might start training you to cook. See how it goes."
Dean wasn't listening. Dean was running his hand along the battered loveseat, staring admiringly at the second-hand TV on the chipped and scratched entertainment center. He lovingly touched the old quilt on the twin bed in the corner, and switched on the lamp with the dented metal Orioles shade.
"This is so nice," he murmured, more to himself than Benny.
"Aw, ain't much kiddo -"
"Better than the dumpster," Dean shot back, sending Benny a grin that made his heart warm. There was a flicker of sass in there, maybe a glimpse of who this kid used to be, before whatever happened to him took all the light out of his eyes.
"Well. Huh. Anyways - towels and soap in the bathroom, and some of my old sweats and tees in the dresser. Why don't you get a shower, and bring all your old stuff up? We'll toss it in the wash, and I'll make us somethin' to eat. Sound good?"
Dean nodded vaguely, already slipping out of his ratty boots.
"Alright." Benny made himself scarce. He smiled when he got to the top of the steps.
Dean was singing Ramble On softly under his breath.
…
Charlie Bradbury was having a bad day. A beyond the pale, step in dog shit, slip on a banana peel, break a nail bad day.
Nobody, after all, likes getting fired. Besides, was it really her fault that she's smarter than pretty much everyone she's ever met?
At any rate, Dick Roman definitely lived up to his name.
She sighed as she shoved open the chrome and glass door at Benny's Boulevard Diner. She had no idea how she'd ended up in Dundalk instead of home in Fells Point, but one lousy wrong MTA bus, and there she was.
A pretty lady with dark hair smiled at her. "Sit anywhere, hon. Someone'll be right with you," she said, with a soft southern accent.
Charlie nodded, taking the proffered menu. She slid into the first available booth and let out another deep sigh.
"Bad day?"
A boy, probably not much older than her, was clearing dirty plates at the opposite booth. He wore ratty jeans, and a white t-shirt, but both garments, and his white apron, were spotlessly clean. Even his black work boots had a bit of shine to them.
"Mmm. Yeah. Not like, destruction of Alderaan bad, but definitely delusions of grandeur, frozen in Carbonite bad."
He froze, then grinned, dimples appearing on freckled cheeks. "What, not like, Luke, I am your father bad?"
Charlie scoffed. "Nothing is that bad."
"Seriously? Luke, I am your father is worse than Alderaan going kablooie and a great disturbance in the force?"
"Huh. You might have a point."
"How 'bout ship full of tribbles bad?"
"How a medieval dickweed killed Ted bad?"
"One point twenty-one gigawatts bad?"
"Or Goa'uld are invading the Earth bad?"
"War with Guilder bad?"
"Come with me if you want to live bad."
"Whoa," the guy said, holding his hands up in surrender, "pretty sure that's as bad as it gets."
Charlie laughed and extended her hand. "Charlie Bradbury; sassy ginger, nerd, wizard, queen, and dungeon master."
"Dean Smith," he smiled, taking her hand and shaking it, "pie-lover, car nut, sci-fi enthusiast, and bus boy. Nice to make your acquaintance, your majesty." He bowed, and lightly kissed her hand.
"You're kind of cool, Dean Smith."
"And you are most awesome, Charlie Bradbury." He finished wiping down the other table, and looked at the empty seat across from her. "Waiting for someone?"
"Nah. I just got fired, and I took the wrong bus, and ended up in Dundalk instead of home."
"Where's home?"
Charlie smiled, relieved that he didn't ask why she got fired. "Fells Point."
"Huh. Only been here about a month, so I don't really know where that is."
"Oh, well it's down on the waterfront in the city."
"So still Baltimore?"
"Yup." Charlie watched him clean another table. "So where are you from?"
Dean paled, and the cheerful grin ran away from his face. "Everywhere," he muttered, scooping up his bus tray and walking briskly towards the kitchen.
"Was it something I said?" Charlie frowned. She looked down at the menu.
"What can I get you, hon?" The pretty lady from before smiled down at her, pen poised over her order pad.
"Oh. I'm sorry. I wasn't looking. I was talking to the bus boy. He seems nice."
The lady looked through the order window, where a big man with a beard was talking to Dean, who was staring down at the ground. Bearded dude seemed to be comforting Dean, patting his shoulder with a meaty hand.
"Dean's a nice boy. He's very quiet. That's why I didn't come over sooner. It was nice to see him smilin'."
"Wow. What's his story?"
"We're not really sure. He plays his cards close, but someone hurt him. Hurt him real bad, and my husband, Benny, he took him in. He lives in our basement, keeps himself clean, and works far harder than he has too." She looked away from Benny and Dean, and smiled sadly at Charlie. "I don't know why I'm dumpin' all of this on you. I'm sorry."
"It's ok. I had a pretty bad day. I appreciate the distraction. He seems so nice, though."
"Oh he is, believe me." She patted Charlie's hand and slid into the booth opposite of her. "Gonna take a load off for a minute while you look through the menu. I'm Andrea, by the way."
"Charlie."
"Lovely to meet you, Charlie. So what made your day so bad, if you don't mind my askin'?"
"Got fired," she grimaced. "Too smart for my misogynistic dickwad boss. Not my fault he erased all his own email 'cause he's stupid. Anyway, I'm supposed to be the resident computer whiz, but I couldn't retrieve it. I'm pretty sure he was doing shady stuff and I think he knows I found out. That's why I got fired. Moron."
"Sorry to hear that."
Charlie flipped the menu. "I liked that job, too. And now I'm out of a job, and probably going to lose my apartment."
"Willin' to learn how to wait tables?"
"Huh?" Charlie looked up in surprise and Andrea grinned at her.
"If my hubby can take in a stray, so can I. And I'm short a waitress. You're sweet, and friendly, and you'll make good tips here. We're a staple in Dundalk, and we have a solid regular crowd that tips real good. I'll train you myself."
"Really?" Charlie asked, "you'd do that for me? You don't even know me!"
Andrea looked through the window, her pretty eyes tracking Dean and Benny as they moved around the kitchen. Her expression was equal parts sad and thoughtful, as she said quietly, "Everyone deserves a second chance."
"Wow. Thank you so much. I'll take it!"
"Good," Andrea said, turning back to smile at Charlie. "First meal's on the house, and maybe later you can look at our pathetic ordering system, since Benny and I don't know anything about it. Could use a computer whiz 'round here." She patted Charlie's hand again.
"Sure! Ok, I'll have a BLT with fries, please. And a Coke?"
"You got it. Comin' right up sweetheart." Andrea stood, took her menu, and walked towards the back, sliding the ticket towards Benny. "Benny, this here BLT's for our new server, Charlie Bradbury." She pointed towards Charlie.
Benny leaned down, blue eyes sparkling as he waved through the window at Charlie. "Welcome to the family, cher!" he said, thick accent making her smile.
Dean caught her eyes through the window and offered a shy smile, which she returned happily.
Welcome to the family. She turned the words over and over in her head.
Maybe she didn't take the wrong bus after all.