A/N: Welcome to my new series! It will be updated sporadically as I'm mainly writing it when the desire strikes. It will be a compilation of scenes involving John Wick and Toni (the OC) instead of a fully hashed-out plot. Similar to what I did for Addy and Eric on Tumblr (find me at asirensrage). At least, that's the plan. I might actually be bad at sticking to small things lol. It will also stay in 3rd person pov but range between focusing on John or Toni, the oc. Let me know what you think! Cross-posted on Tumblr and Ao3.
Chapter 1: First Impressions
He chooses the store because it's open and innocuous-looking. No one is going to expect he heads into a bakery that's mainly soft pinks and yellows. It's also empty...except for the woman behind the counter.
She pauses as she looks at him and he moves forward automatically. He needs to hide before they see him. He hops over the counter and slides down, kneeling on the ground. Her mouth drops open but before she can say anything, the door opens again. He reaches for her, ready to pull her down and out of the way. She motions him to stay down and smiles widely at the men walking in.
"Good afternoon! Welcome to Mystic Creations. Are you looking for anything in particular today?"
"A man. You seen him?"
He can't see them without revealing himself, not with the way the store is set up, but he can see the woman. She frowns slightly in confusion.
"I take it you don't mean any of my general customers. Can you describe the person you're looking for? It's been a bit slow this afternoon but maybe I've seen them?"
She looks a little wide-eyed as she waits for the response. She's not shifting though and gives no indication that he's basically at her feet. She has a good poker face but he can't help but wonder why she's helping. For all she knows, he's a criminal running from cops.
They give her his description.
"You mean he kind of looks like a villain from those old black and white movies? What happened, did he tie a damsel to a train track?" She teases. There's no response and he watches as she waves it off. "I think I would remember if I saw something like that, but I haven't. The last person who walked in here was one of my regulars. She always tries to order something that would be completely wrong for her. Speaking of which, are you sure I can't tempt you with one of the options here? We have a fun process if you're up for it. A lot of people don't like leaving the choice up to someone else but they're always happy with the results." She's still smiling at them and he takes the time to actually look her over. Her dark hair is pulled back and tied up. She looks like she's partly covered in various substances. Mainly flour, if he had to guess. Her forearms are covered in tattoos. Not completely, but enough. They're flowers though he doesn't recognize some of them. What is more interesting are the scars he can see hidden underneath.
The men leave without saying a word.
"Well that was rude," she says to herself. "Don't move yet," she says. She moves one of the boxes on the counter, adjusting it slightly and making herself look busy. After a few moments, she turns to face him and leans against the counter. "So, any particular reason they're chasing you?"
"We had a disagreement."
"No kidding," she smiled. She looked out the window to the front of the building. "Must have been some disagreement. You can stand up now. I think they're gone."
It takes him a minute but he stands and brushes himself off, tucking his gun back into its holster. "Thank you," he says.
"You're welcome!" She smiles at him and he's a little struck by how much it actually lights up her face. "You can wait, catch your breath. It's pretty quiet this time of day, I wasn't kidding about that. I doubt they'll come back. They don't seem like the sweets type. Not that I only have sweets. What about you?"
"What about me?"
"Are you a sweets person? You strike me as more savoury but sometimes I get surprised. Want to try the choosing process? I promise, it's better than it sounds and it's on the house for new friends."
"You don't want to be my friend."
"Why not? Something obviously brought you to my door and I believe in serendipity, don't you?"
He gives her a look. Serendipity isn't real and if it is, well he's rarely seen the good side of it. Unless you count the fact he's still alive.
"It doesn't matter," she says. "Do you want to try? All you have to do is pick either the big box or the little one."
"And that's it?"
"Sure," she gives a shrug. "Then I give you the one that's right for you."
He looks at the boxes on the counter. There doesn't seem to be anything in them but he hasn't lived this long taking chances. "And your customers let you pick for them?"
"They do!" She grins. "I always tell them to try it before they make any complaints. Somehow once they take a bite, they never do."
Something moves by the door and he drops down again as it opens. He gets ready to yank her back but her voice calls out.
"Welcome back!"
"You know I can't stay away," a voice responds. It sounds like an older woman. That doesn't mean anything in his line of work.
"We are always glad to have you. What can I get you today?"
"Hmm...do you have something with lemon?"
He looks up at the woman next to him. She completely focused on her customer.
"Do you trust me?" she asks her customer. He hears a sigh in response.
"When it comes to your baking? Always. I'll take a small one today."
"Sure thing." She stares across at her customer for a moment before he watches her nod to herself. It takes moments before she has a small box opened and a slip of wax paper in her hand. She leans down and opens the screen to the display case. He hears her hum softly before she pulls something out. It's a small pastry. She slips it into the box and puts it on the counter. "Now for the final touch." She reaches to the shelf behind them and pulls a small metal container. He can't quite see what she's doing but he hears her set it down and fold up the box. "That will be five seventy-five," she tells the other woman.
The woman hands her money and she goes to the cash register at the side to get change, he assumes.
"This looks amazing, as always dear," the older woman says. The compliment causes her to smile widely.
"Thank you. Be sure to let me know what you think of it, alright?"
"Will do. Have a good day."
"You too!" It's quiet for a moment before she turns and suddenly something falls on his head. He's standing before he's even aware of moving and she's looking up at him in shock...and mortification.
"Oh my god. I am so sorry!" She reaches up and he has to stop himself from moving back. She's just a civilian. What she does is start brushing off his suit and he suddenly realizes he's covered in something.
"What is this?" he asks. He swipes some on a finger and lifts it to smell it.
"Powdered sugar," she says. Her face is flushed. "Hold on, let me get you a towel or something." She steps back and he takes the opportunity to try to feel how much of it is on him, especially since there isn't a mirror. He brushes as much as he can off of his hair but he has a feeling it's sticking to him. She comes back out with a dishtowel in hand and offers it to him. "There's a washroom in the back. You can clean up there. I really am sorry. Not used to having people behind the counter, I guess. Not that that's an excuse but it's-" she cuts herself off. "The bathroom is just in there, door at the back."
He nods his thanks and follows her directions. The back consists of a kitchen. There are shelves of ingredients and everything is neatly organized. There is nothing back here to suggest that it's anything but a bakery.
He finds the washroom quickly. The sugar is everywhere. His hair almost looks white and while he tries to brush it off with the towel, he's not completely successful. The damage is likely going to stay, at least until he gets a shower. It's fine. He's had far worse than some sugar dropped on him.
He stops as he leaves the bathroom, gaze on the door that must be a second exit. It would be easy to slip out, leave the woman in peace. The last thing she needs is anyone knowing she helped him. Still, he finds himself heading back to the front without thinking.
She turns as he reaches the counter, stopping from her task of sweeping as her eyes dart up to see the damage. He watches her wince as she takes it in. "Oh god, it didn't help, did it? Powdered sugar is the worst. Great for baking sure, but it really sticks to you. It should come out with some movement, or scrubbing, at the least if you wash it and really, you look like you need-" her eyes go wide. "Not that I'm saying you're dirty or anything, I mean, you are now because of the sugar, but not before that. I'm sure you're a clean guy, you'd have to be running around in a suit like that, but you probably just haven't had the time to properly clean up if you're being chased and I-"
"It's fine," he cuts her off. "They probably won't be looking for an old man."
She snorts as she laughs at that. She blushes again, cheeks going red as she covers her face. "It's not that bad."
"Here," he hands her back the towel. "That's twice I owe you."
She frowns slightly, as though she's confused by the concept. "You don't owe me anything."
"You hid me," he explains with a slight nod.
"That was nothing," she says with a wave of her hand. "I don't believe in the whole quid pro quo thing, not for things like this. Here, let me grab you a coffee for the road. I mean, if you don't want to try the food."
He stares at her as she tosses the towel on the shelf that held the icing sugar and leans the broom against the counter. "Coffee?"
"Sure," she says. "Considering I dropped sugar on your head, a coffee is the least I can do." She looks back at him. "Besides, it would be a little weird if you spent all this time in here without buying anything, right? The coffee will help."
She has a point. Before he can tell her how he likes his coffee, she's already turning to him, to-go cup in hand. He takes it from her, noticing as she watches him expectantly. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet," she says. "Try it."
It wouldn't matter if it was terrible. Her comment about his time in here was correct. It would provide a reason he didn't have before. Still, she is waiting. He can spend another moment. He takes a sip.
It's the best damn thing he's tasted in a long while.
He can't entirely make out the distinct flavours or place where the coffee came from, but that sip felt like it warmed him completely. He takes another without thinking. Caffeine doesn't usually hit this fast but he feels a bit more awake already.
"Good coffee," he finally says.
She beams at him in response. "Of course it is. Make sure you drink that whole thing. You look like you can use it, not that you look terrible...and here I am again insinuating that you look bad. I don't mean to. You didn't come in here to get sugar dropped on you and insulted and I'm just going to stop talking now."
He lets out a small huff of air, more amused than he expected at this woman. "I'm going now," he tells her. "Thank you." He moves out from behind the counter and heads for the door.
"You're welcome! Come back any time!" She waves as he leaves. He doesn't look back. He has work to do and needs to get out of here before they start retracing their steps looking for him.