A newspaper was dropped on the glass coffee table without regard to its place. Hans groaned in frustration at the lack of any good news in a long while and sunk back into his couch. Why, why was any of this happening? Every so often, months apart, another article about the so-called "Oslo Taipan" taking another life. True, he considered, maybe the Taipan did murder only those who have committed other crimes, but killing was still a heinous offense. Hans couldn't possibly wrap his head around it, why anyone would want to do away with life just like that. Or perhaps he was just too forgiving, briefly reasoning that maybe the victim could've turned back to the right path. Einar Fredriksen... Hans knew that he wasn't a kind man either, at least judging by the information revealed to the public in print, but he didn't deserve a fate such as this.
The Dane groaned, rubbing his temples. Thinking far too deep made the innards of his brain ache. He certainly wasn't a psychologist, able to decipher the meaning behind any awful act, for his head clouded by his utter compassion for people around him. The type of man who believed in second-chances. Even if he could never guess the motive, Hans couldn't help but ponder about what the Taipan was like. Any other average man? A lowlife? Someone bored with a seemingly infinite stock of venom? He doubted some of the possibilities, but continued this string of brainwork. Perhaps misunderstood, or a heart twisted by unfortunate events? He made an inward grunt of disgust at what he was trying to romanticize.
The Taipan was a killer and nothing more. He decided that he doesn't know anything, and thus shouldn't make assumptions. This man is dangerous, and that's all that was necessary to know to instill a quiet terror within the Dane.
Though, through the doldrum of nothing engrossing being on television and nothing but distressing stories on the paper, he had little choice in thinking about this... or did he? The greatest design of what he could fill his empty time and lift his downed spirits at his small apartment came to his mind as if sent by an angel, so simple in complexity but so sweet of an idea. With a wide grin, Hans pushed himself up from the sofa that carried his impression and he strode forth to the coat rack. Hans culled off his favorite coat, double-breasted with blooming claret in shade, and eased it on over his darker sweater. Its sleeves always vexatiously clung to the coat while he slipped it on, and as such, he eased it over the sweater to avoid issue.
Hans opted to leave his scarf behind this time around, as he wouldn't be gone long. It'd just be a stroll down to the city center for his favored coffee-house.
Clutching the warmth of the cup in his hands gingerly, Hans raised it to his lips again and took another sip with care, feeling the searing espresso trickle down his throat. It was always unwise to gulp it down, at least in his mind, because he would end up scalding his tongue and be aggravated by its sensitivity beyond the day after the incident happened. He wasn't sure if other people did that the same way, as he knew Tino surely drank coffee, but no matter how blistering the temperature, the strange Finn seemed to be able to run the entirety of the cup down his mouth in less than in a minute without flinching. He also knew that some people, after witnessing such a thing, might not actually mistake Tino for being the unholy progeny of a hellion, but they would be forgiven for thinking otherwise.
Hans chuckled softly to himself at the thought, unable to hold back a bit of a smirk at his jest towards Tino, although he would remind himself not to have these sort of thoughts around Berwald. A good friend who knew Hans liked to joke, yes, but he could tend to be a bit of a mother bear around Tino. Even if all he did was give Hans his elbow in the side, the Dane would still rather not have his ribs bruised.
The aroma of his coffee drew his attention away from the subject of Berwald for the time being, the sweet scent of his espresso carrying itself into his curious nose and away to join the other fragrances of varying coffees from other patrons and the machines. Somehow, mere smells could sway Hans as other simple pleasures could, and the scent of coffee was one of said smells that can. Caffeine kept people awake, particularly during midnight runs to finish work due the next day. It was especially a friend to Hans when his clientele was particularly large during the summer season and he forgot to source furniture for one or two clients. Despite the life-giving energy caffeine had with it, coffee's scent would still allay Hans more than anything else he could think of. It was probably why he always found himself here, paying another 25 kroner for a coffee every odd day or another.
This troubled the Dane in such a way that he knit his brow and bit his lip. It was reminding Hans how mediocre his life was turning out to be. It was easier just to dream in school that it'd be fun to be have a creative job with all the colors and inventive furnishings, it'd be fun to move to other places, fun to meet new people. Yet, the problem was that his job wasn't as exciting as he painted it to be, moving here a few years ago didn't seem so fun after settling in and having explored the city already, and meeting new people was harder than ever with a heavy tongue that was even still being accustomed to speaking Norwegian and it was something about the slightly standoffish community that put his energetic blaze down to candlelight. Or perhaps Hans truly was more bashful than the average person, and his perception was skewed. What bothered him was that the latter is the more than plausible truth. Either way, at least he had Berwald and a bit of Tino to spice up his life now and again.
Just as Hans began to take another swig of his cooling coffee, he opted to look away from the table that seemed to interest him so and actually look around instead of down like he was busy, which was somewhat of a joke in and of itself. His eyes surveyed the shop from the soft lights above giving the coffee house a warm atmosphere to the neutral colors of the store that would certainly put any customer in the mood for a hot drink.
People watching wasn't something he did often, but it was satisfying in a public place where he had nobody to talk or send a text to. A mother and her two little girls, all bundled up like small, fuzzy monsters, visited the counter briefly to fetch a coffee and two hot chocolates. A youthful musician, from the look of his aged trumpet case, ordered a cup of white tea and left to seat himself in a corner. 'How odd', Hans pondered. The next customer, however, managed to pique his interest. There was just something about this man that Hans couldn't quite put a finger on. Perhaps he'd seen him elsewhere in the past? No, he would've definitely remembered someone like this; short, blond hair of such a fair color that was well-groomed and immaculate in every sense, a cross hair pin holding back the left side of his bangs, a nose of ample size that he could just prod every day...
If Hans wasn't in a public place and wouldn't have drawn attention, he'd slap himself square on the cheek, but settled for sucking one in and biting it. He'd never even met this person in proper, and he thought it crude of himself to think of this stranger like a friend already. How dare he, before not even asking a name? Hans would've scolded himself for ages if he hadn't realized that what he chastised himself for was the point. Indeed, how dare he before not asking a name? That was it. Maybe, just maybe Hans wouldn't mess this up and make a new friend. Maybe. Perhaps. Probably. 'Stop telling yourself things like this, you're procrastinating!' Hans snapped at himself in his head.
He must hurry, for time was already running short. The man had received his black coffee he ordered, and already took the first step towards the door, intending to leave with it, and Hans behind for good unknowingly. The Dane cursed at himself. 'Get up,' he screamed internally, 'And say something to him, god damn it!' No matter what he demanded of himself, he could only keep his behind firmly planted on the cushioned stool, staring dumbly at the stranger who grew ever closer to the door.
'Go.' He insisted. The visitor grasped the cold handle of the door.
'Go, go, go!' The door's release let in the cold and a reticent electronic bell sounded off like it did for every guest.
'For fuck's sake!' The man began to pace past the windows and down the sidewalk.
It was then Hans finally forced himself to get up, a hand almost outstretched, but stopped dead. The other was already gone, turned the corner and disappeared with the wind. Hans stood paralyzed for a moment longer before sighing heavily and sitting back down to face the table and his nearly finished coffee. It wasn't until then that he noticed sweat was starting to bead on his brow, and it was wiped away by his own coat sleeve.
"Fuck," Hans whispered tensely under a breath, "Why does this always happen to me...?"
"Hey, Ber-bear!" Tino cheered lovingly into the phone. Berwald couldn't help adjusting his glasses to offset how warm his cheeks began to feel, as the name was embarrassingly adorable to him. "What'cha calling for? Checking up on me? You're so sweet, doing that all the time."
A pause came from Tino before he spoke again, causing Berwald to halt a breath he was about to use to correct the Finn. "Oh, wait. It's because I'm late again, isn't it?" Berwald needed only to let off an affirmative hum to let Tino know of his answer.
"I'm so sorry," he apologized, "It's just that I always get into last-minute paperwork. You know I feel guilty about it!"
"Tha's true, but what about our dinner?" Berwald asked with a raised brow, but his tone may have come off as if he already knew the answer.
"Oh my God. That's now, right now?" Tino shrieked, and the Swede winced at the noise, as well as in worry for whomever Tino may be talking around.
"I'm such a terrible partner, I-I know! Always late, always ruining plans..."
"Now, c'mon... yer not, Tino. I understand that bein' an officer is hard. If I could, I'd do it for ya, if not to ease th'stress in yer life."
"You mean that? Well... thanks! It's just that I know our dinner tonight was going to be special to you, and I feel guilty."
"Tha's alright," Berwald assured, "We can do it on Sunday instead when ya don't work. Right?"
"Aaaaah, that's a great idea!"
Berwald couldn't help a simper at Tino's excitement. Everything about the smaller man just excited him in every way.
"So, what's keepin' you this time? Just curious 's all." The Swede asked nonchalantly.
"Oh? They put me on the case with the killer. Y'know, the Oslo Taipan?"
That name made Berwald stiffen and bite his lip nervously. "That so...?"
"Mhm. But it's not like I'm the detective, no! I just... help out. Do paperwork. It's kind of boring, actually. Can't wait for them to have someone else assigned and I cycle out back to patrol."
"That's like ya. Y'always seemed t'be more keen on tackling drunkards or getting into gunfights."
"Mmm! It sure does liven up my day!"
"...Even if it is dangerous." Berwald let a hint of concern drop in his tone of voice, since Tino didn't seem to pick up on his earlier somewhat-sarcasm. Sometimes he just worried about Tino's sense of thrill and how it might get him into serious trouble. It terrified the Swede to think of anything that would stain his delight in life.
"Oh, don't talk like that... You know I'm only joking a little. It doesn't happen that often anyways." Tino scoffed. "Still better than doing paperwork."
"Just keep comin' home safe, a'right?" Berwald requested sadly.
He could practically hear Tino bouncing on the other end. "Don't worry, I will, I will, and I promise to make up the dinner to you. Your place, or mine?"
"Yours is alright." Berwald's frown became a small grin.
"Then I'll see you there! Goodbye, alright? I love you!"
"Love ya too. See you."
The both of them hung up, and Berwald sauntered over to the bathroom to freshen himself after setting down the phone back into its receptacle on the kitchen wall. He couldn't possibly see Tino straight after his job, smelling and definitely looking like he crawled out of a factory, working around industrial machines with tools. It was still nevertheless unacceptable to be in the presence of the bright Finn in such an awful state, and he would look his best. Nothing would ever be more important to him than time with Tino.
A/N: Hi, all! It's your author Lulu actually talking for once. I hope you're enjoying this story so far, and I'm so awfully sorry if it's going slowly or if the chapters are too short for you. I promise it'll get better. Anyways, I'm here to shed light on some minor information. 25 Norwegian kroner is about equal to 5 American dollars, to get a sense of the price. Everything's pretty pricey there. Support is always appreciative and motivational, and thanks for reading so far again! -Lulu