Chapter Seven: Chocolate Coated Strawberry Flavoured Fudge;

Joel had to roll him off the couch to wake him up in the morning.

"Why is Bernard under a blanket?"

"Huh?" Soul rubbed the back of his head where it had thudded off the floor. "Oh, yeah, uh… No reason. He looked a little cold?"

Joel looked at him like he wasn't buying that, but also like if believing that would make Soul happy then that's what he was prepared to do.

Soul raked a hand through his bedhead, and Joel stared at him expectantly. He was already dressed, and Soul could see that he'd been playing a muted game of Halo. What time did this kid wake up at? Soul opened late on Sundays, but it was probably a good thing he'd woken him when he had.

But Joel didn't know that. Joel would probably never think to wake him for something like work. First of all; his brother and his wife weren't exactly rocking the nine to five lifestyle, and second of all; waking Soul was a Herculean task and a half, so it must have been important. Joel needed something. Something important, but obvious enough that Joel would think it didn't need explaining to his hardly-a-competent-caregiver uncle. Soul glanced around for clues.

"Uhm… " Think basic human needs Soul- sleep; check, clothes; check, Halo; check, food- "You hungry? Want some breakfast?"

"Can we have eggs?"

"Sure thing," Soul hauled himself up. "Do I have eggs?"

Joel shook his head like someone Soul cared about hadn't made it, like Joel himself could not save them. Soul groped for his wallet and handed the kid ten dollars.

"Go get some eggs and bread and milk, I'mma have a quick shower, there a store right across the street," Soul ruffled Joel's hair, making no discernible difference in the mass of fluff. "Don't let Oni escape."

Joel left, and Soul YouTubed how to scramble eggs, Gordon Ramsey style, before getting in the shower to find a noticeable lack of hot water.

Soul's shower was rickety and stingy with the hot water at the best of times, but in Nevada water shouldn't ever be cold without human intervention. And it was freezing. Dick shrivellingly cold. He swore a couple of times before washing his hair.

It was getting long, he could probably put it up in one of those little buns. He'd read on the internet that they caused baldness, and as much as he elected not to believe in everything he saw online and the fact that it really didn't run in the family (both his grandfathers had thick, healthy heads of hair), it wasn't worth the risk.

Also, he was sure you needed to be a certain level of buff and ruggedly handsome to pull them off. And, he rubbed his jaw thoughtfully; scruff was definitely a prerequisite. Soul kept his face clean shaven at all times to avoid being mistaken for an off season department store Santa.

He rubbed a towel through it and pushed it back out of his face with a thin plastic hairband. Even if he wanted to try the man bun or the 'Small Man Ponytail' he didn't have any of those ponytail holding elastic band things.

He got dressed quickly, mindful that Joel would be home soon, tugging on a clean shirt and yesterday's still-good jeans. There was a stack of mail on the counter next to Bernard, the terracotta traitor. Soul tugged the blanket off, whatever about Bernard being a jerk, the innocent plant acting as his hair didn't deserve death by hand-knitted throw blanket. He flipped through the stack of envelopes, tossing the junk mail where it belonged in the trash before reaching into the cutlery drawer and fishing out a knife to slit open the useful post.

Not that there was much, he had bills to pay - the price of electricity per unit had gone up again, motherfuck -, and a letter from his solicitor reminding him that he should update his will annually, and a heavy, cream hand-pressed parchment envelope. It was more than likely a wedding invitation, one of his cousins was probably getting married again.

How was he supposed to keep track if there was just so many of them? Adelina had a serious boyfriend, didn't she? Adelina would've made him her florist though, no matter what the wedding planner said about his own people. So who was it? Emilio? Grace? Felice? Maria? One of his other twenty something cousins? Maybe one of his high school friends was getting married.

He opened it carefully and slipped the card out. It was heavy in his hand. The calligraphy was printed, but his name was handwritten with a flourish. He scanned the card for the names of the happy couple.

Kim Diehl and Jacqueline Dupree.

Of all the people(cousins, mostly) he'd been expecting, this wasn't- they weren't close or anything were they? He was their best customer and the wedding florist, but they'd never hung out outside of that first Local Business Owners Of Caberallo Street Association meeting and subsequent game nights. Yeah, after charades the first night had been a roaring success, they'd been meeting once a week to play dumb games.

Last week Soul had crushed everyone at cards. Forty-five, Gin Rummy, Old Maid, Whist… He owed it all to his poor, deceased Gram. Soul had to wonder if there were any skills of his she hadn't been instrumental in forming.

But the fact that Soul fucking slayed at being an elderly woman was irrelevant. Kim and Jackie and him weren't exactly buddies. Sure, they actually talked to each other in the shop over his purchases, and Jackie and him had spent almost twenty minutes complaining about yarn-bombing as a trend. It just ended up as a gross, mouldy waste of yarn that some poor guy had to come and snip off. Him and Kim talked about the upcoming adaption of This Is The End which was a weird conversation to have, and who Archimedes Reaper was, which was an even weirder one now that Soul did know who he was.

There'd also been that time when Soul had been caught in the crossfire between Kim and Mandy. He still hadn't touched that probably cursed wool. He wasn't sure if curses wore off eventually or if you have to do something to break them but he wasn't knitting Wes a pair of murderous socks. He wasn't that big of an asshole.

Soul also thought he might have to like, burn the wool to cleanse it or whatever so fuck that he'd rather have the murder socks than waste good wool like that. Was the cursed wool contaminating his stash? Was all his wool cursed now? Fuck it. People had to die sooner or later.

But was this a wedding that he's actually invited to? Not that of a family member who was obliged to have him there, or a family member who'd made him part of the wedding party. Just people who sort of wanted him around to see their special day, enough to feed him. And a guest, if he wanted.

He was going to go.

Joel hammered on the door just as Soul made up his mind to go to that weird pagan wedding. After all, it'd be nice to see his flowers in action and his friends commit to a happily ever after. Yeah, they must be his friends, why else would they invite him to the wedding?

Joel had also bought maple syrup and a carton of orange juice. Soul couldn't have asked for a better nephew.


It was one thing to have Joel in the shop looking unprofessional and being entirely unhelpful while he was there to serve customers.

It was another thing altogether to leave Joel in the shop looking unprofessional and entirely unhelpful while he bought coffee for himself and the girl who worked in the bookshop.

Soul would never consider himself to be a highly professional and responsible business owner with plans for expansion, but there was a line, and the line fell somewhere around the 'don't leave a ten year old in charge of the shop' mark.

Soul had two options, text Maka and tell her to get the coffee even though that would mean admitting that the fact that they got each other coffee everyday would become an openly discussed issue that they would have to define instead of whatever it was. Or he could send Joel to get the coffee, and to drop the sweet tea off at Maka's. But that would seem like he was avoiding her and- he sighed. The bells above the door tinkled and he looked up.

It wasn't Maka. It was a short, curvy Hispanic woman with close cropped black hair and the kind of falling apart leather satchel that disorganized teachers carry around. She made a bee-line for him, and pushed her white plastic framed glasses up her nose.

"Excuse me,"she said, before she rummaged through her bag and extracted a photograph. "Do you have anything like this?"

It was an old wedding photo, the bride was wearing a simple straight cut dress and a large floppy hat, she was holding it down against a gust of wind. A wedding bouquet dangled from her fingers. She was smiling, caught mid laugh as she and her new husband share a joke. His hair is thick and dark and his eyes twinkle, even through the aged photograph.

"May I?" Soul gestured to the photograph.

"Sure, that is what I brought here it for, after all," she was still hunting through her over full bag, "I thought I put a better one in here-"

Soul squinted at the the bouquet, the photo, though lovely, was not shot by a professional; it was slightly blurred and had faded since it was first printed. The bouquet looked like an yellow/orange smudge. The woman slapped a second photo on the counter-top triumphantly.

The groom wasn't in this photograph, and the bride was blushing, holding up the bouquet to hide behind, her eyes sparkled with mirth. This was the happiest day of her life, and she looked like it. The flowers were clearly visible, and Soul could see that the bouquet was one of orange dahlias and yellow roses. It was bound together simply, the bouquet had been created by an amatuer, albeit not one without skill.

"It's my parents' fortieth wedding anniversary," the woman explained. "I thought it'd be nice to get them a bouquet like Mami's wedding one? We all chipped in to send them on a holiday cruise, but I thought this would be nice too."

Soul thought it was a wonderful idea.

"I'll put something together," Soul said, "Do you want a wedding bouquet or a regular one in the same flowers?"

"Oh, a regular one please, wedding bouquets die too fast," the woman said. She knew her stuff.

"Well, it looks like dahlias and yellow roses," Soul said, "I have those in stock and I'll be right back."

He grabbed the photo from the counter.

Dahlia were beautiful flowers for wedding bouquets, with good strong stems and bright blooms that were available in a variety of colours. In the tunnel, Soul cut a choice selection of both flowers and a number of waxy eucalyptus leaves.

He glanced down at the photo before starting work on the arrangement, doing his best to imitate the positioning of the flowers in the original bouquet. Satisfied he'd retained the energy and promise that the wedding bouquet had originally represented, he carefully placed it in Joel's handpainted pot.

He wrapped it in clear cellophane and cut a piece of thick white satin ribbon to hide the elastic tie he was using to hold the pocket of water together. He tied it in a overlarge floppy bow, while he used his bouquet pricing formula to calculate the price.

He brought it out to the front counter, gauging her reaction.

Her smile was broad and genuine.

"Oh, it's perfect, Mami will be so pleased!" she took the bouquet, then laughed and put it down on the counter to dig out her purse. Soul reached out the steady the unstable bouquet.

"That'll be $43.80. Do you have a Deathbucks loyalty card?" Soul asked.

"I do, somewhere…" she dug in her purse for a minute, and pulled out a handful of loyalty cards to various establishments. "Oh, I just love it there, even if it makes me feel like a white girl… But the coffee is just so good and strong, who could blame me? Why do you want one?"

"There's a ten percent discount to anyone with ten stamps, if you want to trade it in?"

"What? Why?" she narrowed her eyes at him.

"Well, it's part of an incentive thing to get people to go to Deathbucks instead of Starbucks," Soul explained. "Most of the stores on the street are doing some deal or other, and we get to trade the cards we collect for free coffees…"

"Do you have many yet?"

"No,"

"How can I say no to that?" she handed him the card and he tucked it under the counter before taking the ten percent off, and then an extra five percent off for her parents good marriage.

She left, bouquet in arms.

"Joel!"

"Yeah?" Joel didn't look up.

"I got a free coffee!" Soul waved it at him. "Look at it."

Joel glanced up briefly.

"Get your coat- no wait never mind it's a hundred degrees out there don't get your coat, that's a stupid idea," Soul hopped the counter, and didn't even knock anything over, "C'mon we're cashing this in."

"Do I have to come?"

"Yeah, there's someone I want you to meet."

He still needed to give Stella that letter.

Joel's eyes widened as he remembered just who Soul had told him lived in the coffee shop. He hopped off the stool with such enthusiasm that it fell over and didn't waste time trying to right it again before trying to vault over the counter like Soul had.

He was not quite as successful, knocking over Soul's jar of cards on pointy metal spikes and not quite managing to get over the top without Soul reaching out and giving him a hand.

Soul didn't bother taking off his floral apron, there was no time! He had free coffee to claim and a ten year old kid to introduce to his hero.

He locked the door carefully behind him, noticed his wallet sitting on the counter, unlocked the door behind him, went in and got his wallet, then locked the door again. Joel waited patiently throughout this entire process.

His hands fluttered at his sides and there was a definite spring in his step, Soul noticed that he was getting tall too. He'd be taller than Wes when he was older, maybe even as tall as Soul himself. Unless his mother's side of the family dragged him down. Now that was a crowd of shorties. They made Black Star look tall.

Soul wanted to stop in and wave his free coffee in Black Star's face, but Joel dragged him past the door without so much as a second glance. He dragged him past Maka's shop even faster, aware of the potential roadblock she was. Joel was single-minded in his determination to get to Deathbucks and meet his hero.

Well, Soul was pretty sure he was Joel's hero. But there was a difference between being a hero that was a florist with a Grammy and an evil pet cat that you could call on the phone and being a hero that was a Pulitzer Prise Winner and already had stellar ratings on the HBO adaption for television series despite there only being three episodes out far. And that difference seemed to be measured in 'likeliness to have arm removed from socket on the way to meeting them'.

The chalkboard door banged against the wall when Joel violently shoved it open. He rushed to the centre of the coffeehouse for the best vantage point, relinquishing Soul's arm. The door swung back and nearly smacked Soul in the face. Joel looked around, like he wanted to demand answers, but there wasn't a whole lot of people in the shop and he used his powers of deductive reasoning to establish that the the strange looking man hunched over the Macbook Air and the the fat binder was the person he was looking for.

He walked quickly over, bumping into several stray pieces of furniture on the way, Soul hurried after him, signalling to Patti that he'd be over in a minute. She looked disappointed that she wasn't his first choice for interaction. She snapped her fingers under Meme's nose to keep her focused while she waited. Tsugumi squeaked as Joel nearly knocked her over and Anya shot him a glare as she hurried to help her.

"Sorry!" Soul said as he passed, chasing after his nephew, who was like a ten year old possessed. "I'm really sorry! He's just excited!"

Soul grabbed Joel by the shoulder and reeled him back in just as he got to Kidd.

"Whoa, kid, slow down!" Soul said. "You'll scare him."

Joel seemed doubtful, and Soul sighed. Hopefully Kidd wouldn't like, freak out all over his nephew. He was a weird guy. He always kept his tea mugs in the exact same spots, Soul could see the even rings scarring the table. He'd stopped using the take away cups, or else the staff had started refusing to give them to him. Soul didn't know.

Soul rapped gently on his head. Joel gasped in shock, but Soul didn't feel like going through the gentler motions of pulling Kidd out of his writing. They never worked anyway, so why bother?

Kidd looked up, scowling at Soul like he'd just interrupted him, even though Soul or Maka(who still hadn't figured out who he was, to everyone's amusement) always came in to chat around this time so they had to be as much a part of his routine as Tsugumi attempting to clear away his used cups was.

"Hey Kidd."

"Soul, I was writing."

"You're always writing," Soul pointed out, ignoring Joel tugging on his sleeve. "There's someone I want you to meet-"

Joel shoved him out of the way to goggle at Kidd.

"You're Archimedes Reaper," Joel was awestruck. "Your hair is weird."

Tsugumi dropped the mug she was holding and it splintered on the ground. No one moved a muscle, not even to clear away the dangerous shards of ceramic.

Kidd suddenly clapped a hand to his hair to hide it from view, and Soul clapped a hand over Joel's mouth to prevent the topic advancing. Kidd was very sensitive about his hair, for reasons Patti wouldn't divulge. Liz said that it was "just one of those weird character quirk things, it'd be endearing if it wasn't so fucking annoying, just don't bring it up Soul," and then "I mean it Soul don't fucking bring it up, it's not open for discussion" and then she'd threatened him some more. Soul wasn't about to disagree someone who admitted to being named after a gun.

Joel licked his hand, but Soul was made of stronger stuff and held on.

"Joel, that's disgusting. Also. Be polite," Soul cautiously released him. "Anyway, Kidd, this is Joel. He's a big fan."

Kidd gestured for him to sit across from him and pushed the laptop to the side, before slamming the heavy binder on the table and flipping it open.

"Joel, I need further clarification on sticky note yellow 32-"

"Have fun," Soul really needed his free coffee. They'd keep each other busy, and hopefully Joel wouldn't bring up anymore taboo subjects, like why he hung out in the coffee shop. Soul tried to think of topics that weren't on the 'don't mention to Kidd' list. You could request a copy at the counter.

"Hey Patti," Soul said, stepping around where Anya was sweeping up the coffee mug shards and Tsugumi was wringing her hands nervously to the side and apologizing repeatedly. Liz was there too, having appeared from the office to make sure no one was hurt.

"Soulie, you're causing an upset," Patti chided, but her eyes were bright and she smiled over his shoulder to where Kidd and Joel were chatting animatedly. Soul glanced over his shoulder to check on them and shot Joel and unnoticed thumbs up.

"Can I get-"

Patti waved Meme over and told her to make a sweet tea with red berry syrup and began concocting something for Soul, without consulting him on any level. Just the way he liked it.

"Can I get a hot chocolate as well?" Soul asked, nodding at Joel.

"Anya?" Patti called, "Can you make a hot choc for me?"

Anya frowned but moved behind the counter, while Tsugumi and Liz continued observing Kidd and Joel interact with fascination.

"And look!" he whipped out the loyalty card he'd gotten earlier. "Look! She said she loved you guys."

"Hey, no worries, we'll get you one free," Patti grinned, shaking a jar of something pink in colour. She placed it under the steam nozzle and turned it on. "You're not the first."

Soul scowled, but he was glad that the incentives were taking off, Starbucks seemed too busy for his liking. He didn't want to be 'that guy' but he really felt like throwing a brick through their storefront, right in that smug mermaid's face. He scowled out the window at Starbucks.

"Here you go," Patti placed his drinks on the counter in front of him, and waited patiently while he took a photo for Instragram.

He took a carefully sip of his then put it down and squinted at it.

"Patti?"

"Soulie?"

"Have you ever read Charlie and the Chocolate Factory?"

"No," She giggled, and Soul could tell she was lying.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"I mean, I guess that means that this isn't Chocolate Coated Strawberry Flavoured Fudge Coffee doesn't it?" he raised an eyebrow at her.

Patti just laughed at him. Soul rolled his eyes and grabbed the tray of drinks. It was best just to leave her when she got like this, otherwise he'd just end up frustrated.

"C'mon kid- not you Kidd- we better go,"

"He can stay," Kidd said. "Can't he Liz?"

"Can I Soul?" Joel pleaded, jutting out his lower lip and making his eyes all buggy and not at all cute or winsome like he'd intended.

Soul looked at Liz, who sighed and nodded.

"You can stay, but only if you don't fuck anything up," Soul said, pinching the bridge of his nose. He sighed. He really wasn't supposed to swear in front of his ten year old nephew. His impressionable ten year old nephew. Wes was going to be so pissed when he found about this. About everything. Fuck Wes, he'd rented his real estate opportunity to fucking Starbucks. Soul didn't owe him shit.

Stella'd be pissed though, but she was too nice to say anything about it. Soul was pretty sure she knew that Joel was fairly up to date with This Was The End.

He plopped Joel's hot chocolate on the table.

"Don't waste it, I'll come get you at lunch time."

"Do you have to?"

"Joel you're going home today. Wes is coming to get this evening."

"I'll take him out to lunch," Kidd offered. Soul looked doubtful. He felt doubtful. Kidd didn't exactly give off the responsible adult vibe, not that Soul was one to talk about public appearances. "Is Wes your father? I'd like to meet him."

Great. Fucking Great. Wes was going to meet Kidd, who Soul was leaving alone with his son. Who was also the author of the books his son was most certainly not allowed to read. Jesus fucking shit.

"I'll call you to and you can stop by for lunch Soul, you go drop off that," Liz said. "Maka's waiting."

And now he had to go talk to Maka. Great.

With the day he was having- with his storybook coffee flavour and his impending doom when Wes found out that Soul had been smuggling his son age inappropriate reading material- this could only end badly.

Soul read the sign she had, offering various rewards to Deathbucks loyalty card holders before shouldering the door open and slipping inside as the dolphin wind chime tinkled softly.

Maka's shop was empty except for a lone browser who was far more interested in following a particularly aloof cat around and calling softly after it then perusing the selection. Soul recognised the cat as Blair, the only cat in officially permanent residence.

Maka was reading a dog eared copy of Bram Stoker's Dracula and wearing the cable knit jumper he'd pushed into her hands, it was making her disappear into the back wall of her shop a little. He put her sweet tea on the counter in front of her, clearing his throat. He eyed the jumper blatantly.

"I'll give it back!" she clutched at the sleeves like the only way he would ever get it back was if he pried it from her cold, dead, arms. "... Eventually."

"Keep it."

Maka pinked, the colour complimenting the handmade cable knit jumper all too well. How had he ever thought he was going to get it back when she looked that cute in it? What if he made a second jumper, one that was just for her… Maybe something in a baby-soft yellow. No, that would never work; he just wanted to knit her more things to wear, like an elderly lady marking her territory.

He shook his head to clear it of such notions, and took a sip of his ridiculous coffee. It was good, but that didn't change the fact that it was ridiculous.

"Hey," Soul said, unsure of how to start a conversation that wouldn't end in disaster. She grabbed her tea and took a long draught, possibly to delay any further conversation. He waited, glancing around for a copy of Roald Dahl's classic piece of literature for Instragram purposes. He'd been slacking on his aesthetic coffee cup photos lately.

Maka put down the cup, but didn't let go of it.

"Hi," She smiled at him like she had a secret, and Soul felt like the best part of her day. He blushed, remembering why he'd stuck to instrumental music. That had been sappy as shit and he felt cheesy as fuck. "How's Bernard?"

He blushed, hard, and spluttered in her direction. He was having a moment of like bliss or peace or whatever and she had to bring that fucker up? Soul had seen the error of his ways, god fucking dammit, he woouldn't rescue any more ugly head shaped plant pots. Why must the world continue to inflict such terrible punishment on him? He went to church(sometimes) and prayed(occasionally) and gave money to charity. He was a good person. He didn't deserve this.

Maka laughed at his discomfort, and leaned over the counter to better observe it.

"Tch, you know, uh…" Soul took a thoughtful sip of coffee in a bid to recover. The drink didn't seem half as warm as the back of his neck. "Do you, uh, have a copy of Charlie and The Chocolate Factory?"

"I'm not sure," Maka admitted, looking around quickly,"I can go check, though. Why do you need one? You aren't much of a reader…"

"You said audiobooks count!" Soul shouted at her retreating form.

The woman coaxing Blair to her glared at him as the cat scampered away. Soul wanted to tell her to find another cat to pester, the Blair was haughty and aloof, but there was a certain level of pride associated with winning over a cat. Oni still liked to perch on his shoulder like some kind of absurd parrot and Soul liked the stumpy legged accessory, even if he had hissed at the delivery person last night. He was very territorial.

Maka jogged down the stairs again, without a book.

"I'm sorry Soul I can't-" she reached behind him and grabbed Something, tugging it free from the shelf with practised ease. Utilising the Something, which felt awfully like a thin paperback copy of a certain children's classic, she smacked his head. It made no discernible difference to his hair.

"It was right beside you, dummy," Maka said, dropping it on the counter in front of him. "How hard did you look?"

"Not very."

"Soul!"

Soul smirked, too preoccupied with aligning the coffee cup and the book in frame neatly to come up with a clever quip. Besides, sometimes silence said more than words ever could, a principle Soul had been relying heavily on for most of his life.

"Why are you taking a photo of your coffee with Charlie and the Chocolate Factory?" Maka asked.

"Taste it," Soul didn't look up, picking a filter was a crucial part of instagramming, or even electing to go #NoFilter. And the caption, this was going to be a toughie. He had to really get the absurdity of the situation across to his followers, whilst simultaneously making them envious of his lifestyle.

"Soul."

Soul didn't respond.

"Soul."

Nothing.

"Soul!"

She smacked him with the book again, hopefully harder than she intended to cause damn, did that sting.

"Soul, it tastes like… Soul this is amazing!" Maka said, drinking more of his coffee than he really would have liked. He tried to ease it from her grip, but she was unwilling to release it. Repeat: Coffee at stake, requesting immediate backup.

"Maka… Maka…" he whined. He was a grown man. He ran a successful business. He had a Grammy. He was a human being with dignity and pride. He was fully prepared to beg for the return of his coffee if that was what it would take. "Please, Maka, give it baaaack…"

"Letting me taste this was your mistake," Maka shook her head sadly, "But I'm a pretty nice person, so I guess I could give it back…"

"Please!" Soul said, too quickly. He needed that. People who shop at second-hand bookstores filled with semi-friendly cats were not confrontational people. People who shop at florists were often stressed and eager to take it out on innocent salespeople.

"What will you give me?"

A braver, sauver and cooler Soul might have done a lot of things. He might've kissed her, or taken her out for drinks. He might've invited her over for dinner now that Joel was leaving. He might've promised to destroy Bernard in a reckless, dangerous way.

The Soul that was, blushed and spluttered and allowed his iPhone to slip through his fingers.

He made some indistinct vowel sounds.

And then he made some indistinct consonant sounds.

He slumped over the counter in defeat, burying his head in his arms to cover as much of his blush as he could.

Maka laughed at him, but there was a note of hurt in her voice when she leaned over and promised to return his coffee if he came out. He folded his arms tighter and hunched his shoulders, before taking a few deep breaths. He raised his head slowly, taking a careful peek to scope out the potential hazards, but squawked and stumbled back when he realized that she was entirely too close and remembered that her eyes were entirely too green. He could feel that shade of green shooting electricity down his spine.

He succeeded in knocking over a mug of pens and one of the stacks of books heaped on the floor in his fluster, hurrying to repair the damage while startled cats bolted, knocking over more piles of books. He heard Maka hop over the counter, but didn't look. Her eyes were still too green and he needed a minute to recover.

She moved around him, cats clustering around her, rubbing against her ankles for comfort and curling around her when she stooped to restack one of the piles of books. She comforted them in a soft, low, voice, wincing slightly as one of them dug its claws into her back. He looked away before she noticed him staring, but he could tell by the curl of her lips in the corner of his eye that he'd been entirely fruitless in that venture. He restacked the books haphazardly, in a piles that were sure to topple in the next gust of air; taking care though, to ensure that the spines were facing outwards for the casual browser's convenience.

He stood up quickly when the task was done, grabbed his coffee and looked down, focusing instead on the abandoned copy of Dracula. Maka returned to the edges of his vision.

"I'm sorry for… y'know…." he gestured at the restacked books and the disquieted felines. "That."

"Don't worry about it," a silence gaped, and Soul could tell she was gnawing at her lip, struggling to phrase something just right. "Soul, why won't you look at me?"

"You look nice today," he said, blushing harder than he'd ever imagined possible and ducking his head into his shoulder.

She squeaked, and Soul glanced up to see that she had tugged the collar of his jumper up to hide her face. An indistinct mumble emerged from the wool. He cocked his head, and she repeated it, louder.

"You too."

Soul's phone buzzed across the counter, the text was from a number he didn't recognise and comprised of one word and a single emoji. The word was 'run' and the emoji was that little running man dressed in the red shirt and the jeans that even an idiot like Soul knew was not good sportswear.

"Hey, Maka do you recognise this number? Five-five-five-one zero-" the bell chimed and Maka looked up just as the door smacked into the adjoining wall loudly.

"Soul."

Soul wheeled around to look his astronomically pissed brother in the eyes. Wes was positively quivering with rage, and Joel was nowhere to be seen. Patti was outside the window, signalling frantically at her, her phone, him, his brother and then miming running. Kidd was with her, enraptured momentarily by the signage, but Patti tugged him forward and pointed at him again, then mimed writing, the held her hand at about hip height before pointing frantically again. She shook her head, blonde hair springing free of the stubby ponytail she'd had it in.

She sighed, and took a deep breath. Soul could hear both of these through the glass so there really was no need for her to yell.

"Soul-" Kidd, with the most presence of mind Soul had even witnessed from him, slapped both hands over her mouth and hissed at her to 'hush up'. Her eyes widened and she started texting frantically.

Soul's phone was buzzing across the counter top, loudly and repeatedly. He didn't get a chance to read any of Patti's frantic messages, interspersed no doubt with comments by New York Times Bestselling Author Archimedes Reaper, as Maka snatched his phone and shoved it in a drawer, muffling the sound considerably.

"Soul," Wes repeated, unaware of the spectacle happening behind him. Soul tore his eyes away from the antics outside just as Stella arrived with Liz, two still new people and a sullen ten year old wearing what Soul recognised as Liz's favourite pair of noise blocking chunky headphones for listening to music while working in the back office.

They'd left the shop in the hands of Meme, Tsugumi and Anya, something Soul could only hope wouldn't result in complete disaster, like this conversation was about to.

"What in god's name did you think you were doing!?" Wes said. "You know those books are totally inappropriate! Not only did you find and locate an illegal advance copy from some strange man who claims to be Archimedes Reaper-" Maka gasped, finally putting it together-" of all people in a coffee shop, and give it to my ten year old son, you introduced them, and left him in his care, with a couple of baristas and Liz goddamn Thompson and her sister? Soul in what part of your brain did that seem like a responsible idea?"

The best part.

Teenage Soul responded sullenly in his head, hopefully not out loud. Present day Soul had to agree with some of his points. He searched for an answer that might convince Wes to let Joel stay with him again sometime before he turned eighteen. He was curious as to why Liz was 'Liz gaddamn Thompson'.

"Wes, they're my friends-," the argument was brushed away when Wes started again.

"Jesus Christ Soul! You left him with the goddamn Brooklyn Devils!" Wes said. "Did you even know that? Did you even know your friends are wanted criminals?"

Soul's phone buzzed again in the drawer, loud in the gaping silence.

Liz flicked her hair proudly over her shoulder, her jaw high in the air like she was above getting involved in Soul's insane family drama, no matter how eager she was to find out more about Soul's pre-Caberallo Street life.

"Soul, I've supported you your entire life, backed up every dumb decision you ever made and you leave my son in a goddamn coffeehouse that's a front for a fucking drug ring with a nutjob who thinks he's an author?"

Soul's phone buzzed loudly, the drawer rattling in its frame.

"And pick up your goddamn phone for once in your life!"

"It's not a drug ring," Maka said, jutting out her chin. "The coffee's too good."

"Yeah! Our coffee's great! We went straight a lot time ago!" Patti yelled through the glass before Kidd could stop her. "We haven't terrorized anyone 'n years!"

Soul had no idea what direction this conversation had taken a turn for, and when he glanced out of the corner of his eye, he could see Maka googling 'brooklyn devils' under the counter. She gasped at whatever search results came up.

Soul started stuttering.

Liz needed her temples and pushed the door open, shrugging out of Kid's frantic grip. She didn't want to tell with this, but she wasn't about to be shown up by some new kid on the block when it came to defending her legitimate, above-board and total legal business practises and rescuing Soul's sorry ass from various deep wells including 'family issues', 'big brother issues' and 'inferiority complex'.

"I had really hoped you guys weren't related, you know that? In the whole goddamn USA you too had to be fucking brothers, didn't'cha?" Liz sighed. "Wes, me'n'Patti walk the straight and narrow now, but you don't get to dredge up the past just because your idiot brother's our friend. I'd wouldn't say we were ever friends, but we damn sure as shit weren't enemies Wes. I'd say we parted on good terms even. I hope you aren't planning on changing that."

Soul wanted to shrink into the ground. It was bad enough knowing that his brother had pulled Stella, who was kind and believed the best in everyone, but Liz? Soul didn't like to use the word conquest, but he knew from a backroom tryst a few years ago that was exactly how Liz viewed men. Wes and Liz had happened more than once, while they were both fully sober probably.

He'd probably been her booty call.

He felt a little sick. He wanted to be an adult about this, but he avoided thinking about his brother and sex at all costs, even if it occasionally meant pretending that Joel and those other two kids were adopted.

Maka reached across and patted his hand soothingly.

Liz and Wes. Wes and Liz. Liz and Patti, the Brooklyn Devils(whatever that meant). Liz murdering Wes. Wes murdering Soul. Soul never seeing Joel again. Wes being pissed at Soul after his death because he willed everything to Joel because he hadn't taken his solicitor's advice about updating his will annually and left nothing for his other two whatever they were's.

"Your son was having a great day, and any kid as smart as him could have those books without an adult's help," Liz said, a note of warning in her voice. "Now you can go get dinner with your brother, or whatever else it was you came here for-way earlier than expected- or you can go home. But don't be a little bitch about it, Wes, cause we don't have time for that kind of bullshit here, we're busy trying make an honest living. All of us."

"I will talk to you later, so pick up your phone when I call," Wes growled at Soul. Maka slid the phone across the table to Soul, he had over a hundred texts from a number he now knew was Patti's. He knew he'd regret giving it to her on that board game night a few weeks ago. "Liz, I apologize for the things I said. It was… unfounded, and I'll hope you'll forgive my misplaced anger."

"You were worried about your kid, I get it. I worry about mine too."

"You have kids?" Wes softened at the idea of motherhood appealing to someone as tough and unforgiving as Liz.

"I have this crowd of idiots, same difference."

Please R&R