Now that Yao knew where he recognized 'Alex' from, he felt terribly bad that he hadn't even thanked him properly for helping him out. Briefly he wondered if the man had followed Yao from the library, but quickly shot that thought from his head.

Maybe he could catch him at the library next time Yao went, and invite him out for coffee or something? Yes, that was a good idea. He'd pay for both of them, and relieve his conscious.

Except, the next day when Yao went, the Russian was nowhere to be seen. He wasn't there the next day, either. Maybe he had a new shift at work and came to the library on a different schedule now?

This thought caused Yao to come more often, spending every free hour sitting and reading cookbooks and waiting for the other man to finally show up. He had just started to worry when his sister approached him.

"You're looking for that Russian who always sits over there, aren't you? I haven't seen him in a while," she said, sliding a Martha Stewart magazine in front of him.

He thanked her for the read and asked defensively, "How would you even know if I was looking for him? Can't I just come to the library?"

"Yeah, but you've been coming more often than usual, and he's been coming less. I thought you knew him? You two were always on the same schedule, I thought. You weren't? Wow, that makes him always watching you kinda creepy, huh?"

"He… what?"

Mei sighed exasperatedly. "In a cute way, Yao; stop overreacting. He looks like a sweetie. A really big, intimidating sweetie." She took the seat beside him, "Don't you think?"

"Wh-what?" Yao sputtered.

"He is pretty cute, isn't he?"

"Xiao Mei, you need to stop. Do not. Aren't you supposed to be working or something?"

"Aren't you supposed to be at work in like, fifteen minutes?"

"Oh," Yao's eyes widened, looking at his watch. "Shit."

Ivan dreaded turning the book in. It would only take a second, but what if he ran into Yao? He wouldn't be able to handle the embarrassment of it.

He opened the library door slowly, holding it for as many people as possible. He surveyed the bookshelves, especially in the cookbook area, as he headed toward the turn-in box.

In 'n' out, real quick, Braginski, he thought. Vaguely, he saw the pink librarian, Yao's friend, out of the corner of his eye.

The distance between the turn-in box, across the room from the door, had never felt so long before. It had also never felt so crowded at the front desk before.

He edged around a Korean kid who kept making big hand movements as he explained something to his friend, nearly smacking Ivan in the face. As soon as he reached the turn-in, he slid the two books into the slot.

Okay, he made it without any sign of Yao. Good.

He turned around quickly, anxious to get out and go home, and ran right into someone who had been standing behind him. Ivan's larger structure sent the other sprawling, books flying, and Ivan automatically leapt forward to help the man up, apologizing profusely.

The obnoxious redness of the t-shirt didn't register until it was too late for a retreat.

"Ai! Hey it's you! I've been waiting to see you again!" Yao exclaimed upon recognizing Ivan. "I felt so bad about the other day!" he said, brushing himself off.

Ivan sheepishly bent down to collect Yao's books. "You feel sorry? Do not. I…" Ivan didn't know what he did, but he knew he did something so, "I did something that made you uncomfortable, so I am sorry."

"What? No, I was flustered and did not thank you properly. Please accept a coffee with me, despite my having been rude." Yao bowed his head slightly, seemingly embarrassed by his 'rude' actions.

What? Ivan was surprised, but it's not like he could say no, could he? "D-sure, I guess. I do not understand why, though." He mumbled the last part, barely loud enough for Yao to hear, and the Chinese man appeared to either not hear it or ignore it altogether.

"Great! I know a really great place near here." And then Ivan was being dragged by the sleeve out the door and into the cloudy day.

When they got onto the sidewalk Yao slowed to walk beside him. Ivan had no idea what to say or do. He didn't want to stare at Yao, so he avoided looking at him altogether. He didn't want to say the wrong thing again, so he abstained from saying anything. Luckily, Yao carried the conversation by himself.

"It's getting chilly, huh? That probably means they'll have a nice pumpkin spice latte now. Have you ever heard of Symposium Coffee? It's a coffee shop one of my friends co-owns with her ex-husband. I thought it was going to be awkward after they got divorced, but luckily it wasn't."

Ivan smiled as he listened to him babble on about his friend—name Elizaveta, apparently—and somehow get to the topic of how chai tea has gotten so changed and Americanized. "You see, I know a lot about teas and herbs because my mother used to own an herbal remedies shop in China Town. My family still owns one of the oldest acupuncture clinics in Seattle, up in the International District; I suppose that's the correct name for it."

He continued on with his random tangents of thought as they walked down the sloping hills of downtown Seattle.

"What do you think?" Yao asked him suddenly.

Ivan hadn't been listening for the last block and a half, so he didn't know how to respond. "I… I'm sorry, what?"

"Global Warming, do you think it's true?"

"I don't know," Ivan started cautiously. "Ah… all I know is that my uncle always told us how easy we had it. Apparently our Russian winters aren't as cold as what he grew up with. But…"

"Oh, we're here!" Yao pulled open the door and Ivan entered, thanking him.

They were greeted by piano music and a central European woman calling "Hello, Yao! How are you today?"

"I am very well. Do you have your pumpkin spice latte again?"

"Yes, of course. Would you like two?"

Ivan looked about the shop. It was moderately sized, with a grand piano in the far corner. A man in a long blue pea coat was playing, his unruly hair bouncing as he moved with the music.

Yao looked briefly over at Ivan, and then nodded yes. "Sixteen ounce, please," he said as he pulled out his wallet.

Ivan hadn't even noticed that Yao had ordered and paid before he was being led, once again by the sleeve, to a table near the door.

"We'll walk with our coffees; I have to work soon," Yao explained. "So you grew up in Russia, you said? What part?"

"Er… St. Petersburg."

"Ah, yeah? That's where St. Basil's Cathedral is, right? Have you ever seen it?"

"Oh, no. I'm actually from the outskirts, about an hour away from any of the tourist stuff. It's still St. Petersburg, though."

"That's funny. I have an English friend who lived in London for two years as a student, but claims he only ever saw his campus and the pubs at night. I find that so hard to believe, and would not ever believe it if it were anyone but him."

Ivan laughed. That sound like Arthur.

"So you speak Russian, yeah?" Yao continued.

"A lot better than English, da. I mean- yes."

Yao laughed. Ivan was suddenly very nervous, butterflies swarming around in his stomach. Oh god, he was going to embarrass himself again, wasn't he?

"Two pumpkin spice lattes, Yao," Elizaveta called from the counter.

Yao smiled as he got up. He took his time getting the coffee. He hoped Ivan didn't notice how nervous he was. His hands were shaking and he knew he was babbling. He talked a lot when he was nervous.

As he collected the drinks, Elizaveta came and grabbed his arm. "Hey, who's your friend?"

"Uh, I'm just paying him back a favor."

"A 'favor', eh?" she waggled her eyebrows at him suggestively.

"Not like that, god Elizaveta."

"Yeah, sure."

Yao glared and returned to the table, handing Ivan his. Ivan had been listening to Roderich intently.

The piece was something by Bach, Ivan knew. He tried to figure it out as he stood and took the cup from Yao.

"Thanks, Liz!" Yao called as the two of them set out again. "Try your coffee, you'll love it I promise."

Yao watched as he took his first drink.

"What do you think?" he asked hopefully. "It is sweeter than I expected. I usually take mine black."

"But it's good, yeah?"

"Yes, I guess it is."

Yao smiled and took a sip of his own cup.

Several moments passed silently. Ivan fiddled with the lid of his coffee, which hadn't been securely sealed onto the lip of the cup.

"Oh, yeah, I guess I didn't point Roderich out to you. Remember, he was the one I was talking about, Liz's ex? Yeah, he owns the place, technically, but Liz does all the work, to be honest. Sometimes he can be very nice, but other times he's a total dick."

Ivan nodded. He would describe both of his own sisters similarly.

Silence ensued once more.

Yao was freaking out. Why? He didn't know. He had not thought this all through. This encounter, their second one now, seemed to be going on and on, awkwardly dragging into a silent affair save the sound of Yao sipping his coffee and the wind now bearing down on them. What should he say?

"So, I'm sorry, what's your name again?"

"Aah—" How awkward! He had told Yao his name was Alex before. Should he tell him the truth now? "Ivan."

"You mean to say that you're Ivan—from St. Petersburg? You're like a walking incarnation of all Russian stereotypes, aren't you? Do you drink vodka, too?"

"More often than I should…"

"Huh, I've never tried vodka. I'm a bit of a light weight to be honest. I think I'd be on the floor after one glass."

Ivan shrugged. "I supposed you just need to get accustomed to it."

Yao laughed, and seemed to contemplate Ivan for a moment before asking, "How old are you?"

"Aah… twenty one. Why?"

"Oh. You look a lot older than you are. Or, at least, you seem like it."

"Oh."
"I'm sorry, was that rude? I didn't mean for it to be." Yao straightened visibly, suddenly apologetic.

No, no. It's just no one's ever said that before."

"Oh." Yao glanced at his watch. "Shoot, I'm running late. Can you find your way back to the library from here?"

"Uh, yeah. Thank you for the coffee."

"No problem, thank you for helping me the other day. See you at the library, probably!" Yao waved one more time and turned, walking speedily down toward the waterfront.

As soon as he was out of sight, Ivan threw his coffee into the trash. He felt bad doing so, but he could not take how sweet it was. Coffee was not meant to be like that.