NOTES: Not too many people reading this, I take it. Oh well. It's written - thirteen chapters - and done. Now on to other projects!
The Barista - Part Four
By the time John pulled up in the bus stop outside the Athos Bean, late Thursday afternoon, the 'closed' sign was up on the door and the lights in the front section were out.
John quietly swore to himself as he stopped the car just outside the café in the bus zone. A quick squint at the sign by the door showed that it closed at six on Thursdays, and a quick glance at the clock on his dashboard showed it was just past that.
Maybe he could park his car around the back, then duck in and see if Teyla was just tidying up? Surely she'd have some accounts to do out the back? Closing up shop? Cleaning something?
Maybe it was a bit obsessive to seek her out like that? It was one thing to buy coffee at her shop every day, another to try to see her after hours. But she'd mentioned seeing him today like it was expected - like she was looking forward to it.
In truth, John was a little surprised he'd gotten through the day without heading over to the Bean. He'd ended up thinking about her every time he let his brain up for air.
He scrubbed one hand through his hair as he glanced up at the fast-fading sky. It had taken him longer to get here than he thought - did he even have time? His work wasn't done and he'd intended for this run to be brief. A quick calculation of the amount of work he had to get done before tomorrow's meeting only came up with 'a lot'.
Then a light came on in the shop and all considerations of work still to be done went out the window.
John pulled out of the bus stop and drove into the nearby parking lot. At this hour, it was mostly empty with only a handful of other cars around. John absently admired the sleek lines of the scarlet Porsche Carrera S he pulled up beside, then locked his car and hurried out into the purple evening.
On the threshold of the Bean, he paused.
Outside the coffee shop, it was getting cold and the light was swiftly fading from the sky.
Inside the coffee shop, Teyla was dancing.
To the swing and bounce of Wake Me Up (Before You Go-Go), among the empty tables and upturned chairs of the shop, Teyla was dancing as she swept the floor.
John just watched from the outside twilight as she slid between the tables, the broom head navigating between the splayed legs of the tables as her hips swung and she sung in time to the music.
She had a nice singing voice. Maybe a little too clear for country and western, not strong enough for opera, but she could hold the tune very well - and keep the rhythm of the song.
In the shop, the light shimmered along the bare tan of her arms as she wielded the broom neatly around the table legs, gleamed across the silver disc she wore at her throat, and twinkled off her lacquered toenails - a love affair of light and Teyla, who worked as a barista at the Athos Bean.
She danced like a woman who had no cares on her shoulders.
She danced like there was no-one watching.
To her, maybe there wasn't.
But John stood back in the darkness, an unseen voyeur to her unselfconscious, easy performance, and felt a smile curve his mouth, helpless and hopeless in the throes of something that squeezed tight coils around his belly and made it hard to breathe.
Earlier today, while spinning pens across his fingers in one of the meeting rooms in the office, he'd reflected that he was already halfway to falling in love with Teyla. Watching her through the windows of the Athos Bean, John realised he wasn't just halfway to falling in love with this woman; he was already there.
He was in so much trouble.
Rodney would sneer, Elizabeth would look askance, the various directors of Stargate Enterprises would probably lift eyebrows, singular and plural, and his parents would have kittens.
And he didn't care.
This wasn't for them, or the company, or what they wanted of him or for him. This was for himself and a girl who lacked the background, the bank account, and the education 'appropriate' to a guy like John Sheppard, but who had personality, humour, and verve enough to be herself - and be attractive just by being herself.
All the rules we make are broken.
Maybe, at the end of it, John's heart would be, too.
Standing out in the night, John decided he didn't care.
Teyla finished with the song and the broom, switched off the lights and the stereo, and went her way out the back with a serenity that belied the happy abandon of only a few moments earlier.
And John pulled his leather jacket close around his shoulders, walked back to his car with a smile, and returned to Stargate headquarters with a lighter heart.
He had plans to make.
- TBC -