/is on a roll

Also if there are things you'd like to read feel free to mention them in a review. Might not happen, but hey, anything can become canon ;)


March 2013, New York City, New York, United States of America

It was too early for this. Far far too early for this. There was a reason he worked the day shift and not mornings. But Addy had begged and begged and pleaded and really Jacob wasn't that much of an asshole. Sure he pretended to be, because it did a person well to have a hard outer skin when you lived in New York, but he really wasn't as bad as he tried to convince everyone he was. Addy knew that, and that was why Jacob was currently opening the shop, way before anyone else would even arrive for morning shift. Hell it was too early for Kadar to even be awake, and he was on Jacob's ass for food in the morning barely after the sun rose. That was how early it was.

So if Jacob was a little testing and irritated this morning it was understandable.

He'd just unlocked the front door when he heard a motorcycle pull up in front of the thrift store next door. He ignored it, probably whoever ran the adult store or something, he didn't know, he didn't fucking work mornings. He meandered back to behind the counter and fiddled with the register when the door opened. He looked up, ready to tell whoever it was that they weren't open yet, when he got a look at the guy who'd just walked in. He blinked hard.

The guy was wearing riding gear, motorcyclist, and his helmet dangled from a few fingers. Half his face was totally covered in blood. God damnit. Did he really have to deal with this this early in the morning? The man walked up to the counter and Jacob did his best not to lean back a little, he smelled like leather, blood and sweat.

"Do you have a bathroom?" he asked, his voice was a little slurred. Was he drunk? Fuck fuck fuck Jacob was not seriously dealing with this. He rose an eyebrow at him.

"Bathroom's for paying customers only," he said, fully expecting him to leave. Honestly that usually sent the creepy homeless people away when he worked nights, or even just any weird asshole off the street. He honestly didn't want this guy to stay here.

But he looked up at the menu, eyes squinted a bit as if in confusion. Probably like any other annoying New Yorker he was weirded out by the Arabic. Fuck 'em. "I'll have a Turkish coffee," he said flatly as he dug out his wallet and flipped a ten dollar bill on the counter.

Jacob gritted his teeth, great. "Down on the left, on your right," he said and the men left the counter, also leaving his helmet there. He stumbled a little and Jacob leaned around the counter to watch him enter the bathroom with a deep frown. Five-seconds after the door closed he heard the distant sound of vomiting. Oh lovely. Jacob made a face.

He turned back to the front counter and gave the helmet a leery look, as there was a huge spider web crack on the visor. Fuck, what the hell had this guy been doing? Playing baseball with his face‽ He heard some more sounds of vomiting and scooped up the ten, throwing the change into the tip jar, since he obviously deserved it for putting up with this fucking mess, and then went about making the coffee.

He was leaning against the counter when the guy came back out of the bathroom, now looking a lot better. He'd cleaned his face off of the fresh and dried blood and Jacob couldn't see any actual wound, so it was probably some small head cut in his hairline which seemed to have stopped bleeding. The guy stared at the turkish coffee and honestly looked a bit green, as if the thought of putting anything into his stomach was a painful thought. He also had that look people had when their brains needed to reboot, but not in a good way.

"You okay?" he asked and the guy actually jumped, man what was going on in his think pan? Was he stupid or something?

"Terrific, what are your first clue?" came the sarcastic remark in reply.

Jacob half sneered. Okay, there went him being nice. "Excuse me for wondering why you were bleeding all over my shop and came in here looking like a homeless person," he spat right back.

"I doubt homeless people have motorcycles," he said in a dry, uninterested way and picked his helmet up from the counter. He gave the inside a careful sniff and Jacob didn't have to know it smelled rank to know it smelled rank. He looked at Jacob for a second, then down to the coffee and again looked a bit green. "Uhmm," and he looked at Jacob.

"Let me guess, now you don't want it," he sighed.

"Sorry," the guy shrugged.

Jacob shrugged as well, it honestly didn't matter to him, he got paid for it and he didn't ask for his change, it was all good to him. "Figured after I heard you in the bathroom," he confessed and prepared the coffee the way he liked it before shooting it, since their Turkish coffee was made to be shot, not sipped. At least the kind he'd just made since he'd had a very good feeling Mr. Bloody wouldn't actually want anything when he came out of the bathroom.

"Sorry about the coffee," he said and for the first time since Jacob had seen him looked alert. Well, that was good he supposed.

"Why? You paid for it," and he rose his brow at the man questioningly. Maybe he was brain damaged. He had obviously hit his head pretty hard since his helmet was cracked.

They blinked at him, "I did, didn't I," yeah, this guy was totally fucking brain damaged. "Whatever, later," and he turned from the counter and headed for the door.

Jacob watched him for a few seconds before his guilt complex kicked in. He had a really terrible one honestly, it was why he was such an asshole, like if he pretended hard enough he could make people think he didn't care as much as he did. But really, Jacob cared a lot, and really hated when something very obviously wrong happened, he felt responsible, even if it was honestly not his fault.

"Hold on!" he called and darted out from behind the counter and hustled over to the guy. "You the one who came in on the Ninja?" he demanded and grabbed him by the arm before he could leave, which was near the door. He could see the Ninja near his Sportster the one in front of the thrift store.

"Uh, yeah, and I plan on leaving on it too," he said giving Jacob a look though sounded very confused as to why Jacob was questioning his very sound logic.

"Then I really can't let you go," he said.

They blinked at him, "You're ganna have to run that by me again. What?" he furrowed his brow at Jacob in confusion as if everything about Jacob was a mystery.

"As a fellow biker I can't, in good conscious let you leave after you came in here like that," he said with a slightly frustrated look on his face. Didn't he know how much of an idiot he was? Seriously. The guy looked out the door at the bikes by the curb, eyes going to his Ninja before being drawn to his Harley. Jacob frowned at him.

Then he looked back at him, "I have somepla- okay," Jacob was honestly surprised by the quick change. "What do you suggest?"

Jacob scowled at him, as if the man expected him to say something foolish. "Stay here until you don't look like something my cat dragged in," he said in an irritated tone. They looked around behind Jacob as if it was the first time he'd actually looked at where he was. Was he blind? Jacob reconsidered the 'stupid' thought he'd had earlier.

"Fine," they said and tugged out of Jacob's grip and went to one of the large plush chair and pretty much stumbled into it. Jacob pressed his hand over his face and muttered darkly in Arabic to himself. He was doing this one thing, just this one thing, and that was it.

The man put his helmet between his feet and was conked out in seconds. Jacob watched him for a few seconds when the bell dinged, signaling the arrival of another patron. Jacob turned on the door to snarl at them that they weren't open but his words stuck in his throat before he could get them out. It was Jenny, she was working the morning shift with him.

"Yo," she said and tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder. He gave her a great look of despair. "You okay?"

"I think I have a headache," he said and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Oh, sorry," she frowned sympathetically at him. "Everything set up for today?"

"Almost," he sighed and they walked back towards the counter.

"What's up with the guy?"

"Please. Fuck. Do not ask. I do not want to deal with whatever that is for at least half an hour so I can put my head on strait before morning rush," he groaned in agony. She just giggled at him as the door opened again for Felix, who immediately asked after the knocked out man in the corner. Jacob retaliated by snapping at him and shuffled into the back of the cafe to just not deal with it.

Less then an hour later came the morning rush and there really wasn't any room for Jenny or Felix to pester him about the sleeping guy in the corner. Jacob went over to him a few times where there was a moment of breathing space to make sure he wasn't dead and wiped a bit of blood off his face, as apparently the head wound hadn't closed up as much as he'd thought. Finally once most of the crowd had vacated the cafe, with just a few college kids and two old men reading the Times by the front window were left the two others jumped on him and he told them what happened. Jenny immediately said he was good looking and Jacob had slapped his hand across his face so loudly one of the old men had turned to look at him.

Around lunch Addy came to relieve him of his misery. He did so carefully though, as after the rush Jacob had sent him a myriad of rather violent text messages about how he was never working mornings again and he could go beg someone else to cover his shift next time he decided to get shit faced the night before his morning shift.

There was, of course, the question of what was going to happen to the sleeper when Jacob left. None of the people pulling a double, or those coming on shift wanted to be responsible for him in case something happened. Honestly Jacob didn't blame them. Really though the guy was his responsibility and he'd made him stay here, so he'd have to take deal with it.

Once he'd clocked out he went over to the sleeping man. "Oi," he said and shook him, not afraid he was dead since he was still breathing. "Hey, wake up."

He almost jumped out of his skin when the man was suddenly seemingly wide awake and had grabbed his wrist so hard he heard the bones grind. For a wild second he thought the guy was going to break his wrist, but it, like the fact crazy idea that his eyes had been suddenly gold faded quickly. He slumped back against the back of the chair, eyes lidded, obviously awake but not awake. He rubbed his wrist, as it still smarted, before saying, "You can't stay here."

"Seems like a fine place to sleep," he said, in Arabic. Jacob rose a brow at him but he didn't know if the guy saw it, hell he wondered if he even understood what he was saying.

"Well, you can't do it here," and he grabbed the man's wrist and pulled him to his feet. "Even though you're obviously whacked do you think you can keep it together enough to not be a total freak?" he asked. The man cocked his head at Jacob, staring at him with hazy brown eyes that somehow… looked alert. Jacob didn't even know how to describe it, it was weird. After a second he nodded. "Great, you can come with me then," and he took the man's wrist to lead him out of the cafe, grabbing up the man's helmet and waved bye to his coworkers.

The guy seemed to be mostly awake now, which was good and followed him to his Sportster. He pushed the full helm onto the strange man's head and strapped it into place before donning his own and getting on the bike. "C'mon, I'm doing my one good Samaritan deed of the year. Don't make me regret it."

"I make you regret a lot of things, dai," he said, visor up so he could hear him. Jacob just narrowed his eyes at him, this dude was weird, but didn't seem particularly dangerous (barring the whole 'almost break your wrist' thing). He got on the bike behind Jacob and flipped the visor down as he wrapped his arms around his waist.

One good deed, he thought. Just one good deed and then he was off the hook for the year. He knew it wouldn't be like that, Jacob was too nice. Still, it would make him feel better. He really should have known better. What was the saying again?

Oh right. No good deed goes unpunished.