At the Swirl of Magic Cafe
At the Swirl of Magic Café
Snow crunched under his boots, the chill of the winter night the only thing keeping it from becoming a dirty slushy mess on the street. He paid it no mind, his hood pulled up to cover his features and shield it both from sight and from the cold as he hurried forward. Behind him a shrill roar echoed, the call of the prey he was supposed to be hunting. Somehow things had turned on him, taking him from the role of predator and sending him scurrying through the darkened streets looking for a place to make a stand.
There were too many people about, evident by the woman that pulled a gawking young boy after her and disappeared into one of the many shops. It was just his luck that the nearest town had to be one that bustled with life this late into the night. He needed obstacles not casualties.
The roar echoed again and he scanned the street for the most abandoned building. In a moment the creature would catch up and his choice would be taken from him. Bright shops with huge glass windows offering both a display of their wares and a glimpse at all of the patrons inside, stared back at him. Nestled between them was a small building with frosted windows that hid the inside. Light glowed from behind the panes and a sign beside the door read ‘Swirl of Magic Café’. Cafes were popular during the day but should be largely deserted at night, in fact the light was likely left on to deter thieves. The creature sounded again, and he made up his mind.
With a whispered hiss he drew his sword from the sheath beneath his cloak. He spun it a few times in his hand and drew a simple pattern in the air letting the magic flow through his Channel. When he was finished he touched the tip of it to the door, then took a step back, and kicked the door in.
-o-o-o-o-o-
He had expected a nice and quiet night, a few patrons here and there, maybe even a request for a special cup. The few people that ventured to his shop at this time of night were always rather subdued and they left him plenty of time to clean and start brewing some of his teas and specialty drinks for the next day. Then he had expected to spend the hours late into the night by helping Taemin bake the sweets for the next morning.
What he hadn’t expected was for the front door to come flying off its hinges into his shop and send his patrons to scrambling and screaming. He hadn’t expected the cloaked person brandishing a sword to come waltzing in as if he owned the place and gruffly order everyone to get out or down. Nor had he expected the snarling furred creature to come barreling in after him and for them to knock aside tables as they squared off in the middle of his shop.
“What the hell?” he heard Taemin call from the back as he glared through the opening that connected the kitchen to the rest of the establishment. At his question the creature went flying smashing three tables, five chairs, and two tea cups in his wake. A feminine scream echoed through the room as it climbed to its feet and shook itself. He could feel the customers he was losing already.
“Not in my shop,” he muttered, dumping the cup of coffee he had been in the process of making on the floor. He could clean it up later, after he had dealt with the most pressing issues. With a twist of a crank he urged the machine to grind the beans he would need and felt the magic stirring in him at the motion. He hadn’t needed a spell like the one he was working on in quite some time, but he was trained in the creation of offensive spells thanks to his associations and knew the theory of one.
The man in the cloak threw back his hood, revealing a head of dark hair and a determined face. He spun the sword in his hand, creating elegant patterns as the freshly ground beans were added to the filter. The man with the sword finished the pattern with a diagonal slash. A ruby ray of light flashed from the sword at the creature that leapt aside at the last minute. Instead of taking out the creature as it was intended, it placed a nice diagonal slash that was an inch wide through the front of the café.
With a hiss the coffee began to dispense from the machine into his cup. It couldn’t finish quickly enough for him as he watched the creature throw a chair at the man who cut it in half before it could hit him. If the swordsman tried another offensive spell in his shop he fully intended to hurl the nearest object at his head.
It took much longer then he would have liked for the cup to be full, and he counted the loss of another table, a picture frame, one of the vertical supports for the roof, and three windows before it finished. Carefully he pulled the cup to himself and grabbed the pitcher of cream. He could feel the magic pouring out of him as he created an intricate design on the surface of the dark liquid. Another pass and it was finished, brimming with power ready to be used.
“Get down!” he yelled, and then, uncaring if the man had actually listened to him or not, he hurled the cup at the creature. The moment he let it go, he himself hit the floor, using the counter as a shield between him and the spell. He had just put his hands over the back of his head when there was a mini explosion and the sound of glass shattering.
For a moment everything was quiet and he slowly rose to his feet to survey the damage. The front of his shop was in shambles, splinters of furniture everywhere. Against one of the walls lay the cloaked man in a crumpled heap, his sword a few feet from him. The creature was nowhere to be seen but judging from the splattering of red over the interior of his shop it wouldn’t be back to bother them. In the corner, wide eyed and whimpering, huddled the three women that had been his patrons.
Behind him there was a scuffle of movement and a moment later Taemin slid out from the kitchen. “Onew, where is it!” he called brandishing a cupcake frosted perfectly with a blue flower.
“Everywhere,” he replied with a sigh.
“Damn to late again,” the younger man cursed.
“Language,” Onew corrected automatically as he always did when customers were present.
“I’ll say it because someone has to. What the hell is going on?!”
-o-o-o-o-o-
It had taken a cup of calming tea each and one of Taemin’s special, “memory easing cookies” as he put it, to calm the women enough that they could send them home. As soon as he had done so he had phoned in two of their friends in an effort to salvage what little they could of his shop. The mysterious swordsman he had, upon Taemin’s instance that he would be easier to eliminate that way, had been moved to one of three benches along the side wall. Onew had every intention of leaving the unconscious man in the rubble he had primarily created, but something seemed less than humane about that.
“Wow,” their mutual friend Jonghyun stated, accompanying his words with an impressed whistle as he walked in the door. “I didn’t know you were remodeling.”
“I’m not,” Onew replied flatly, picking up a jagged edged table leg and tossing it in the garbage bin. “Can you actually be helpful?”
“I can see what I can do for a price,” Jonghyun replied taking another look at the room.
“I’ll see what other living arrangements I can find,” Taemin told him crossly and dumped an armload of wood into the bin.
“You know,” Jonghyun mused suddenly as if something had suddenly caught his eye, “I think I can do something about that vertical support that you seem to be missing.”
“That is what I thought,” Taemin replied, looking smug.
Onew rolled his eyes and slipped into the back room for his broom. No matter how much magic they threw at his shop, he couldn’t simply wish away the mess he was left with. Magic to un-create things was powerful and forbidden, and he wasn’t about to set the whole mess on fire to get rid of it and possibly lose his store too.
By the time he located where Taemin had tucked the broom, he could hear Key’s voice coming from the front of his café. “What happened here?” the young man asked.
“Him,” Onew offered, stabbing a finger at the unconscious man on the bench. “Can you do something about my windows until I get the money to buy some more panes for them?”
Key pursed his lips and took a long look at the shattered remains of glass. “I might be able to. Do you have any of those table clothes from last spring left in the back?”
“There should be a few,” Onew told him.
“Taemin do you have anything resembling thread in that kitchen of yours?”
“I think so,” Taemin answered, dumping the shards of the center support he had collected at Jonghyun’s feet and then grinning when the man cursed as several bounced off. “Let’s go look.”
-o-o-o-o-o-
Sound returned to him first. The steady stream of syllables as someone chanted, directing the flow of magic. Speakers were dangerous as they could cast magic with nothing more than their voice. They were the only magic users who needed no Channel, or more precisely their voice was the Channel for their magic. It made them incredibly powerful and quick as casting magic where others needed to wait for the magic to build in their Channel.
The memories came next, of the creature and the small café he had chosen to make his stand against it. His fingers curled automatically, looking for his sword, and came up empty. He remembered it being flung from his hand as the explosion had sent him flying. At that he blinked open his eyes and sat up. If the creature had somehow managed to survive he was responsible for it.
“Look who is up,” the young man who he had first seen behind the counter said dryly as he sat up.
“The creature?” he asked.
“On the walls,” the young man replied and brushed a stray clump of dark brown hair from his eyes.
Shifting he took in the walls with their light blue papering covered in splotches of red. “Oh,” he mumbled.
“Yes, oh,” the young man continued crossly, “and I expect payment for the damage to my café.”
That he could understand. He had made a great deal of mess upon his entrance and he would happily pay for it, save for one problem. “I don’t have the money for that.”
The man offered him a flat stare. “Get it.”
If only it was that simple. The creature had a rather large bounty attached to it, however to collect he typically had to bring in a head or limb or some piece of it. All he seemed to have was the blood on the walls. They might give him a portion of the bounty on his word that the creature was dead, but the only proof would be time as the creature did not return.
“For that I will need my sword,” he replied, carefully shifting and placing his feet on the floor. Nothing seemed to be broken.
“I’m keeping the sword,” the man told him firmly, “that way if you can’t pay I can at least sell it and make a profit from it.” Without his sword he was of little use to anyone and they both knew he didn’t have money to buy another.
“There must be some other way that I can repay you,” he offered.
“He could,” the man standing by the window offered, “stay and work off what he owes. You have been saying that you need another hand around here anyway.”
“No,” the man with the broom replied.
“Technically free help. It doesn’t get much better, Onew,” the man pressed, threading a needle and holding up a small square of fabric to the half made patchwork over the window.
“He could be a murdering kidnapper for all we know, I’m not having him in my shop,” the man said firmly.
“You have his sword,” the man at the window pointed out.
All in all he wasn’t certain if he truly wanted to stay and work off his debt but he wouldn’t be leaving until he got his sword back. “I won’t harm anyone under your room or your property. I am willing to swear a magical oath.”
The man paused in his sweeping and narrowed his eyes at him. “You would swear an oath to hurt no one while you are here and to work until your debt is paid?”
“With the understanding that once it is my sword is returned and I am free to go,” he agreed.
The man seemed to be mulling it over for a moment before a shout from the middle of the room made him sigh. “Once we get this mess cleaned up I’ll make the contract for us. You can start by sweeping up your mess.” The man held out the broom to him and he took it.
For a moment he pondered using the solid wood handle as a makeshift sword to subdue the man and take back his sword, but he dismissed the idea almost immediately. Man for hire or not, he had a moral code and attacking defenseless men went completely against it. “My name in Minho,” he offered.
“Onew,” the man replied. “I hope you know how to sweep.”
-o-o-o-o-o-
“You made it so only you can dissolve the oath right?” Taemin asked.
Onew fought the urge to pause and rub at his temples in frustration. “I do know what I am doing, Taemin.”
“I know it is just that you haven’t made one in a long while and-”
“Taemin, if you make me screw this up and I have to start over, I’m going to ruin that batch of batter you have been working on for a week,” Onew told him.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me,” he threatened. Wisely Taemin said nothing and allowed him to finish the intricate design with the cream on the surface of the coffee. When he was done he pushed the cup towards the man sitting on the other side of the counter.
“How do I know that this oath isn’t binding me to something else? I’m not familiar with your particular Channel,” Minho asked.
That wasn’t surprising, as far as he knew he was the only one in the area that used coffee making to channel their magic. “You’ll just have to trust me, then, won’t you?”
“That isn’t exactly fair,” Minho pointed out.
“Maybe you should have thought of that before you burst into my shop,” Onew countered.
The man in front of him sighed and picked up the cup. “Fine, I agree.” He raised the cup to his lips and sipped at the warm liquid inside. Onew could feel the pull of the magic, the only indication that the spell was taking hold. When the man had finished half of the cup he passed it back and Onew immediately raised it to his lips. As he drank it down he could feel the smooth slide of magic spreading through his body. He would know instantly if the man broke the oath, and the magic itself would likely take care of the problem before he had the chance to do anything about it.
“Good. As my newest employee you are now in charge of making this place presentable for business tomorrow. Touch anything that you don’t need to clean and I will know. It will count as a violation of your oath,” Onew informed him.
“Where will you be?” Minho asked, and he caught the man darting a glance to the two men still working in his shop and then to Taemin.
“When Jonghyun and Key are finished, I’m going home. I suggest you get to work,” Onew replied with a sweet smile.
-o-o-o-o-o-
Guilt gnawed at him, eating a hole in his chest by the time he arrived back to his shop the next morning. For all he knew Minho hadn’t picked his café but stumbled in with no other choice in the matter. He had realized sometime during the night that he had been treating the man as if he had intentionally caused all the damage, singled out his café and brought down destruction. Likely the man’s motivations had been much less sinister if the lack of fight he had put up the previous night was any indication.
As he did every morning, Onew unlocked the front door and stepped into his café. Despite his misgivings, the place looked presentable enough. One of the supports, the one that Jonghyun had attempted to put back together the previous night, was indeed crooked. Key’s patchwork handy work covered the window, the magic sewn into the material keeping the cold out and the heat in just as well as any window pane could. The long slash had been patched with scrap wood, leaving evident seams but sealing it against the weather well enough that he could afford to wait a while to find someone to officially patch it up.
Inside the café, where he had left a mess, was a perfectly clean area with two buckets of rubble in the middle. The tables had been rearranged to cover the area where the ones they had lost had been, giving the place a more spacious air then it had previously had. At some point the walls had been scrubbed and saved for a slightly discolored spot on one of the walls, they looked just as they had before their visitor arrived. Slumped in a chair in the corner, sat the man who had been left to spend the night cleaning.
Minho was slumped forward, the broom still clutched in his fingers as if he was intending to sweep in his sleep. His chest rose and fell in the motion of peaceful breath and another pang of guilt stung Onew. He had been all but cruel to this man and Minho had done his best to fix his shop. That didn’t pay off his debt in any way, but it certainly was a step in the right direction. Silently, as he did every morning, Onew slipped behind the counter to begin his opening routine.
-o-o-o-o-o-
The tantalizing scent of coffee and baking assaulted his nose as he slowly awoke from his slumber. His fingers, stiff from the night, flexed open causing the broom to clatter to the floor and him to jump in his seat, fully awake. A look around the café showed it empty save for Onew who was behind the counter putting small jars back onto the shelves. In front of him on the table was a steaming mug of liquid and a giant muffin that was still steaming. Given the coffee he had seen in use the previous night, he wasn’t certain he wanted to trust any of it.
“It’s just regular hot chocolate,” Onew’s voice reassured him, as if he had heard the man’s thoughts. “The only magic in it is a bit to ease any aches or pains and the muffin is completely normal too. Excellent in taste, but no magic.”
Minho’s stomach rumbled, reminding him of just how long it had been since he had eaten. What did it really matter if both were poisoned? He had nothing to lose anyway. Without another thought to its contents he picked up the muffin, peeled back the paper, and took a bite. Flavor burst onto his tongue and he released a soft sound of gratitude.
Onew’s laughter came from the direction of the counter, “He likes it, Taemin!”
“He had better!” another voice echoed from the kitchen.
Swallowing, Minho raised his voice loud enough that the other man could hear, “it is very good, thank you!”
“When you are finished with that,” Onew told him with another laugh, “I’ll take you to the back and get you a proper uniform for your first day of work.”
Minho nodded and took a sip of the hot chocolate. It was easily ten times better than the muffin and he could feel the warmth of the subtle magic spreading through his body. If all of this man’s drinks were so pleasurable to consume, Onew likely made a fortune at his little café.
“Don’t take too long,” Onew told him as he pulled out a towel and began to wipe down the counter, “there is still work to be done.”
Nodding, Minho took another sip of his hot chocolate and then remembered his muffin. If every breakfast he got was like this one, then perhaps he wouldn’t mind his stay as much as he thought he would.
-o-o-o-o-o-
“I’m heading home,” Taemin announced as he flipped off the lights in the kitchen.
Onew smiled as if they were sharing a private joke. “Aw and spare Jonghyun the fun of coming to collect you?”
Taemin rolled his eyes dramatically. “He gets his fun in other ways.”
“I bet,” Onew agreed with a chuckle before turning serious. “Don’t forget we have that large order for relaxing cupcakes in the morning.”
“I won’t,” Taemin replied with a small dismissive wave as he walked past. “See you tomorrow. You, too, Minho.”
Startled, Minho nearly didn’t think of a response until the young man was almost all the way out the front door. “Thank you. Have a good night.”
“So,” Onew said slowly as the door closed behind his business partner, “you wouldn’t happen to have a place to stay in this town?”
“No,” Minho replied honestly. He had never intended on staying after he had slain the creature and he certainly hadn’t planned on staying more than a single night if it came down to it.
Onew sighed, “Of course not. Come on.” Startled, Minho slid off the stool and followed the man as he retrieved his coat and tossed Minho’s cloak to him. He had expected to be left in the shop to find an area to sleep since he was magic bound not to harm anything, however it seemed that Onew had other plans for him.
Together they stepped out into the chilly air and Onew locked the door behind them. Without a word, the man turned and started down the street. For a moment Minho considered going the opposite direction. It would have been easier to walk out of town and find some bounty somewhere else. Even with the magically binding oath he would have considered it if he had had his sword, however he could never leave without it.
With brisk steps he caught up to the man who was walking through the cold and rounded the corner. They walked to a small set of apartment buildings, and he followed Onew up and into the building. Together they stopped at the third floor apartment number 305. Onew slipped his key in the lock, turned and pushed the door open.
The inside of the apartment was small yet homely, perfect for someone who lived by themselves as he suspected Onew did. A small kitchen connected to the living room where a television and a couch sat as the key features. A bedroom door stood open on the right, and a bathroom on the left. Onew toed off his shoes and looked around the apartment as if he was embarrassed. “It’s not much,” he said sheepishly, “but it is home.”
“It’s nice. More than I have,” Minho told him gently. A part of him longed for a place like this, something to call his own, but his way of living had him wandering far too much for that to make any sense.
“I’ll get some sheets for you to make up the couch,” Onew told him as he turned away and hid his face.
“The floor will be fine,” Minho told him. He had, after all, spent nights on less.
“No, you’ll take the couch,” Onew spoke like the conversation was over and shuffled towards his bedroom. Who was Minho to argue?
-o-o-o-o-o-
“So,” the man called Jonghyun began as he leaned against the counter. The man, he had discovered, was the Speaker, yet lacking in much of the talent he had seen in others of that power. Even a week later Taemin and Onew still chuckled at the crooked support in the middle of the shop. “You like Onew.”
That had been the last thing he expected and he paused with the silverware he had been polishing still in his hands. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” Jonghyun told him, and took a sip of his tea.
Minho ducked his head and focused on running the cloth over the fork in his hand. “I think you are mistaken.”
“I saw you watching him earlier as he made coffee.” Minho didn’t have to look to know the man was offering him a smile. Jonghyun seemed to be a daily presence at the café, and constantly sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. Only an hour before Taemin had chased him from the kitchen with a spatula and a war cry.
“The use of his Channel is fascinating to watch,” Minho told him. He had never seen anything like it, someone who performed magic through making coffee.
“Taemin’s Channel is his baking. He can put enough magic into a sheet cake to level a city block and I don’t see you watching him,” Jonghyun replied. Taemin, as it turned out, was significantly more dangerous to watch at work and had a tendency to throw sharp objects when disturbed. He told Jonghyun as much and the man laughed.
“You could watch him from here like I do,” he said with a gesture towards the cut out in the wall that would let them see the kitchen. “The point is that you don’t. You only watch Onew.”
“I do not,” Minho replied, although the denial seemed weak and childish.
“He watches you, too,” Jonghyun commented over his glass.
That had Minho pausing before he started polishing silverware again. Of course Onew watched him, he was a stranger and the man that destroyed half of the café; he would watch too if their roles were reversed. Although the awkwardness of their arrangement seemed to be gone, there couldn’t be anything more to it. Still he made a promise to himself that at the very least he would try to tone down the amount he seemed to watch the other man.
-o-o-o-o-o-
“I’m sad to see them go,” Key told him as he helped wiggle one of the nails that held the makeshift window cover in place. The glass specialist had come and gone that morning, replacing the panes from the outside and taking away the need for the hand fashioned covers. Onew had to admit that he had grown somewhat fond of them as well.
“Maybe we can hang them on the wall?” he offered.
Key grinned at him. “Let me take them home and fix them up first.” Knowing the man and his passion for designing he would return with something that looked incredibly different than the pieces they were taking down.
“I always meant to ask,” Minho commented from the other side of the door where he was working on taking down a window cover, “Why are they a bunch of patches sewn together? Couldn’t you have put up a whole sheet?”
“My Channel,” Key said proudly, “is my sewing. Patchwork let me weather proof them for Onew.”
“Oh?” Minho asked clearly interested. That opened the door for Key to explain all about his shop and how he used his Channel to make a great profit on clothing that he made. Onew let them talk, focusing instead on the small nails that he had to work out of his wall. The wall beneath them would have to be patched and painted. He could probably have Minho do it, with his supervision of course. That way he could make certain it was done to his specification.
He glanced at the man and noted the flex of his muscles as he worked on a particularly stubborn nail. There was strength there, understandable given the skill with which he had seen the man wield a sword, yet at the same time Minho had shown nothing but gentleness in all of his time working there. If Onew hadn’t seen him cause the destruction personally he would have wondered if the man would have even been capable of it.
Minho glanced at him and caught him staring. Their gazes locked and Minho quirked an eyebrow in question. Onew felt his face flush before he could stop himself although he had no reason to do so and he trained his eyes back on the work at hand. There was a comment coming, he could feel it, but thankfully a moan echoing through the store broke anything that was forthcoming.
“That is breaking so many health codes,” Key mused with a glance towards the kitchen.
Onew sighed. At this point he really should know better than to let Jonghyun back in the kitchen with Taemin. “Rock, paper, scissors to see who gets to break them up.”
“Deal,” Key agreed. “Minho, you are in, too.”
“Alright,” the man agreed, startled. Key was a fiend at the game and Minho, as it turned out, was just as skilled at it as he was with a sword.
“I swear if they are using the dough again I will be sick all over my floor,” Onew grumbled as he trudged off towards the kitchen.
“Good luck!” Key called, not bothering to hide the laughter from his voice. Adding in the deeper chuckle of Minho had Onew cursing both of their existences as he trudged to his doom.
-o-o-o-o-o-
“When is his debt going to be paid?” Taemin asked him casually as he loaded the display case with a fresh batch of treats for the day.
Onew glanced up at the man that was wiping down tables in preparation for the day. By all means the near month of work, calculating the wages the man would have made otherwise, would more than cover the cost of the windows and the slash in his wall. Jonghyun’s services were thankfully free not that he would have paid for the crooked mess anyway. With all of that, Minho was near enough to having worked off his debt that he would be done in no time.
“Another week or so,” Onew admitted. He didn’t like the small pang in his chest at the admittance.
“Are you going to ask him to stay on and work as a real employee?” Taemin asked.
“Why would I do that?” Onew returned, not looking at the young man.
“Oh I don’t know,” Taemin told him, in a tone that said they both clearly knew why.
“It isn’t like that,” Onew insisted, moving a stack of cups simply because he needed something to do with his hands.
“Keep telling yourself that,” Taemin said and Onew planned to do just that.
-o-o-o-o-o-
For the rest of the day he studiously ignored the ideas that Taemin had tried to place in his head. After nearly a month of working together, the three of them had things arranged to perfection and Minho was a great help as a sort of waiter and cleaner that allowed him to stay behind the counter and focus on the drinks. Thanks to that addition they were able to serve more customers than ever and business was booming.
As he finished an order, Minho was suddenly there with a tray and a smile to take it to where it belonged. Onew tried to ignore the words of his friends, certain that the suggestions from them were a bigger influence than his own mind, but even he couldn’t deny that he liked the little flutter in his stomach every time Minho offered him that small turn up of the corner of his mouth.
“Crushing,” Taemin whispered as he walked by with a tray of sandwiches for Minho to take to a table.
He nearly snapped back with a childish retort but managed to ignore it in favor of greeting the man that that just walked into the café with a smile. “What can I do for you sir?”
“You can give me all of your money,” the man answered, pulling out an object and pointing it towards him. It took him several moments to process what the man was holding and his demands. “Nobody move!” he shouted, swinging the gun wildly around the room. “Give me all the money in the cash drawer and no one gets hurt.”
The wild look in the man’s eyes kept him from arguing. Desperate men had a tendency to do desperate things and the last thing he needed was to get shot, or anyone else for that matter. Hopefully if he did exactly as the man said nothing else would come of it. “Taemin is going to set down his tray and move to the register. He will get the money for you.”
“No funny business!” the man ordered, swinging the gun at Taemin. The young man froze with the tray half way to the counter.
“None,” Onew agreed, raising his hands slowly. “We will just get the money for you and you can be on your way.” He shuffled a bit, hoping to draw the man’s attention and predictably the gun swung back towards him.
“Get the money!” he ordered.
“We will,” Onew soothed trying to hold his attention. He couldn’t bear the thought of Taemin getting shot because he worked in his shop.
Movement behind the man caught his attention and his heart beat harder for the patrons in his shop. Most sat frozen or shaking in fear at the presence of the man, and he willed them to be silent. Behind the man, Minho shifted, tray in hand. His eyes locked with Onew’s and there was a plea there, but Onew couldn’t figure out for what.
“Hurry up!” the man screamed and Taemin’s fingers fumbled on the register. The man’s shaky hand squeezed off a shot that punched harmlessly into the wall between them but resulted in several screams around the room. “Shut up!” the man screamed pointing the gun at the ceiling and firing. Silence fell on the café again and the gun pointed back at Taemin. “Quickly!” Taemin released a small whimper as he tried to punch in the code to get the drawer to open.
“Hey, asshole,” Minho’s voice came from behind the man.
The man spun and pointed the gun at the seemingly harmless man with a tray standing behind him. “You’re lucky I’m under an oath or you would already be toast.”
“You think you are big stuff?!” the man asked, pointing a shaking gun at Minho’s chest. Onew found he wanted to scream at him to just shut up. “I’ll show you big stuff!”
Terror punched through Onew’s chest as the man squeezed the trigger on the gun. Minho, anticipating the shot was already dropping down below the trajectory of the bullet so that it passed harmlessly over the top of him. Onew had never seen anyone move so fast, but he doubted the man would be able to dodge a second time. Suddenly it occurred to him that Minho shouldn’t have to. He had seen the man expertly wield a sword and he had to have enough training to deal with one man. It was the oath, not to harm anything in his shop, that was keeping him from reacting.
“I release you from your oath!” Onew yelled. Immediately he felt the pop of pressure as the magic binding them released and disappeared in a rush. Startled, the gunman turned towards him only to swing back around as he heard the sound of breaking china as Minho emptied his tray. The gunman turned to face the man that was crouched on the ground and was met with a solid metal serving tray aimed for his face.
Cursing, the man fired his gun blindly, sending a bullet into the floor where he knew Minho had been. Minho, however, was already moving and brought the tray down solidly on the man’s head. He crumpled beneath it and a stomp of Minho’s foot on the gunman’s wrist had him releasing the gun so Minho could kick it away.
As if the thing holding the room was gone, there was suddenly the sound of screaming and clattering of furniture as people rushed for the door and spilled out into the street. “Would have been easier with my sword,” Onew heard Minho mutter as he glared down at the gunman sprawled on the floor and his heart, that he was certain had stopped at some point, began to beat again.
-o-o-o-o-o-
“What is this?” Minho asked as Onew dumped a fabric wrapped bundle onto his lap. The young man said nothing as he moved through the apartment to the bathroom and came back with what appeared to be a medical kit.
“Open it and see,” he said softly as he settled beside him on the bed Minho had been using for nearly a month now. Without saying anything else he pulled out a piece of gauze and began wiping away the blood on Minho’s shoulder. It was largely unnecessary as the bullet had only grazed him and hadn’t done any permanent damage.
He didn’t argue as the man set about cleaning his wound and instead pulled back the fabric from the object in his lap. There, swaddled in cloth, was his sword. He had never gotten around to searching Onew’s place for it, but he had always figured it had been hiding out somewhere here. “My sword,” he said softly.
“Yes,” Onew stated, placing a bit of tape across the graze to hold the two edges together and then bandaging the whole thing. “You have paid off what you owe to the shop, you have your sword, and the oath has been dissolved, so you are free to go.” Tying off the bandage, Onew snapped the medical kit closed and rose. Without another word he disappeared into the bathroom.
So that was how it was to be. After all this time he was supposed to just go without another word on the matter, grab his cloak and slip off into the night. A glance out the window provided him with a glow of softly falling snow illuminated by a street light. It seemed as though there was nothing left for him here, no reason for him to stay, unless Onew gave him one.
“I don’t think my debt is paid,” he said softly. It surprised even him how bad he wanted to stay.
“Yes, it is,” Onew answered, stopping to fill the doorway as if he couldn’t bring himself to come into the room. “I ran the math this morning.”
“No,” Minho disagreed. He could see the beginnings of hope in the man’s eyes as if he was desperate for a reason, a reason to stay. “I just broke three cups, was responsible for two maybe three bullet holes, and dented a tray. I think that will take a week to work off.”
“A week,” Onew said softly.
“Then there is the matter of your couch,” Minho continued.
That had Onew’s brow wrinkling in confusion. “What about my couch?”
“Well,” Minho shifted and set his sword on the cushion so that he could rise and begin to move across the room, “I intend to accidently slip when warming up with my sword tomorrow and cut it to ribbons.” With every word he spoke he moved closer to the man standing in the doorway. “It’s a good couch. It will take at least a month to work off. Then there is the rest of your furniture. I can be very clumsy when warming up.” The last word was whispered as he was so close to Onew that he could make out the small flecks of green sprinkled through his brown irises.
“Or,” Onew said softly, “We can spare my couch since I just replaced it before you showed up from my own tripping accident.”
“We could,” Minho agreed, “but then I wouldn’t have a reason to stay.”
“Minho,” Onew said softly. “Would you stay with me? I mean, with my store,” he corrected quickly but the question was already asked.
With a grin, Minho replied, “I would love to.” Hoping that he hadn’t read the man wrong, he reached forward and curled his fingers in the short hair at the back of Onew’s neck. Then he was leaning in and brushing the man’s lips with his own. At the first touch, Onew was melting into him and it was so much better than one of the man’s famous cups of coffee.
“I think,” he murmured a moment later. “I can find it in me to spare the couch.”
“Shut up,” Onew said with a laugh and pulled Minho in for another kiss.
-o-o-o-o-o-
“You slept with him!” Taemin hissed.
“I did not!” Onew snapped, hating that his cheeks flushed at the comment.
“Look at you! You so very much did!” Taemin was grinning as if he had just won a wonderful prize.
“I did not! I have more class than that,” Onew hissed. Minho glanced at him across the café and winked, causing his flush to deepen. “We just made out,” he grumbled, “for a long time.”
“Oh my god, Lee Jinki! You dirty little boy!”
“You are not one to talk!” Onew snapped, feeling his face heat further. “At least I didn’t cover my boyfriend in cookie dough!”
“That was one time,” Taemin said with a laugh, “so was he good?” The bell jingled to signal the entrance of Jonghyun and Onew glared at him.
“What did I do?” Jonghyun asked throwing up his hands.
Minho chuckled and finished wiping down the table. “Please kindly tell your boyfriend to stop terrorizing my boyfriend about our bedroom activities. I would hate to have to find him a new cook.”
“Did I just hear you say your boyfriend?” Key asked as he pushed in the door behind him. “Onew, you sneaky little devil!”
At the counter, Onew groaned. “I want details!” Key demanded. With another groan his head hit his arm and he wished, for the first time of what he was certain to be many, that he could just melt into the counter.
Snow crunched under his boots, the chill of the winter night the only thing keeping it from becoming a dirty slushy mess on the street. He paid it no mind, his hood pulled up to cover his features and shield it both from sight and from the cold as he hurried forward. Behind him a shrill roar echoed, the call of the prey he was supposed to be hunting. Somehow things had turned on him, taking him from the role of predator and sending him scurrying through the darkened streets looking for a place to make a stand.
There were too many people about, evident by the woman that pulled a gawking young boy after her and disappeared into one of the many shops. It was just his luck that the nearest town had to be one that bustled with life this late into the night. He needed obstacles not casualties.
The roar echoed again and he scanned the street for the most abandoned building. In a moment the creature would catch up and his choice would be taken from him. Bright shops with huge glass windows offering both a display of their wares and a glimpse at all of the patrons inside, stared back at him. Nestled between them was a small building with frosted windows that hid the inside. Light glowed from behind the panes and a sign beside the door read ‘Swirl of Magic Café’. Cafes were popular during the day but should be largely deserted at night, in fact the light was likely left on to deter thieves. The creature sounded again, and he made up his mind.
With a whispered hiss he drew his sword from the sheath beneath his cloak. He spun it a few times in his hand and drew a simple pattern in the air letting the magic flow through his Channel. When he was finished he touched the tip of it to the door, then took a step back, and kicked the door in.
-o-o-o-o-o-
He had expected a nice and quiet night, a few patrons here and there, maybe even a request for a special cup. The few people that ventured to his shop at this time of night were always rather subdued and they left him plenty of time to clean and start brewing some of his teas and specialty drinks for the next day. Then he had expected to spend the hours late into the night by helping Taemin bake the sweets for the next morning.
What he hadn’t expected was for the front door to come flying off its hinges into his shop and send his patrons to scrambling and screaming. He hadn’t expected the cloaked person brandishing a sword to come waltzing in as if he owned the place and gruffly order everyone to get out or down. Nor had he expected the snarling furred creature to come barreling in after him and for them to knock aside tables as they squared off in the middle of his shop.
“What the hell?” he heard Taemin call from the back as he glared through the opening that connected the kitchen to the rest of the establishment. At his question the creature went flying smashing three tables, five chairs, and two tea cups in his wake. A feminine scream echoed through the room as it climbed to its feet and shook itself. He could feel the customers he was losing already.
“Not in my shop,” he muttered, dumping the cup of coffee he had been in the process of making on the floor. He could clean it up later, after he had dealt with the most pressing issues. With a twist of a crank he urged the machine to grind the beans he would need and felt the magic stirring in him at the motion. He hadn’t needed a spell like the one he was working on in quite some time, but he was trained in the creation of offensive spells thanks to his associations and knew the theory of one.
The man in the cloak threw back his hood, revealing a head of dark hair and a determined face. He spun the sword in his hand, creating elegant patterns as the freshly ground beans were added to the filter. The man with the sword finished the pattern with a diagonal slash. A ruby ray of light flashed from the sword at the creature that leapt aside at the last minute. Instead of taking out the creature as it was intended, it placed a nice diagonal slash that was an inch wide through the front of the café.
With a hiss the coffee began to dispense from the machine into his cup. It couldn’t finish quickly enough for him as he watched the creature throw a chair at the man who cut it in half before it could hit him. If the swordsman tried another offensive spell in his shop he fully intended to hurl the nearest object at his head.
It took much longer then he would have liked for the cup to be full, and he counted the loss of another table, a picture frame, one of the vertical supports for the roof, and three windows before it finished. Carefully he pulled the cup to himself and grabbed the pitcher of cream. He could feel the magic pouring out of him as he created an intricate design on the surface of the dark liquid. Another pass and it was finished, brimming with power ready to be used.
“Get down!” he yelled, and then, uncaring if the man had actually listened to him or not, he hurled the cup at the creature. The moment he let it go, he himself hit the floor, using the counter as a shield between him and the spell. He had just put his hands over the back of his head when there was a mini explosion and the sound of glass shattering.
For a moment everything was quiet and he slowly rose to his feet to survey the damage. The front of his shop was in shambles, splinters of furniture everywhere. Against one of the walls lay the cloaked man in a crumpled heap, his sword a few feet from him. The creature was nowhere to be seen but judging from the splattering of red over the interior of his shop it wouldn’t be back to bother them. In the corner, wide eyed and whimpering, huddled the three women that had been his patrons.
Behind him there was a scuffle of movement and a moment later Taemin slid out from the kitchen. “Onew, where is it!” he called brandishing a cupcake frosted perfectly with a blue flower.
“Everywhere,” he replied with a sigh.
“Damn to late again,” the younger man cursed.
“Language,” Onew corrected automatically as he always did when customers were present.
“I’ll say it because someone has to. What the hell is going on?!”
-o-o-o-o-o-
It had taken a cup of calming tea each and one of Taemin’s special, “memory easing cookies” as he put it, to calm the women enough that they could send them home. As soon as he had done so he had phoned in two of their friends in an effort to salvage what little they could of his shop. The mysterious swordsman he had, upon Taemin’s instance that he would be easier to eliminate that way, had been moved to one of three benches along the side wall. Onew had every intention of leaving the unconscious man in the rubble he had primarily created, but something seemed less than humane about that.
“Wow,” their mutual friend Jonghyun stated, accompanying his words with an impressed whistle as he walked in the door. “I didn’t know you were remodeling.”
“I’m not,” Onew replied flatly, picking up a jagged edged table leg and tossing it in the garbage bin. “Can you actually be helpful?”
“I can see what I can do for a price,” Jonghyun replied taking another look at the room.
“I’ll see what other living arrangements I can find,” Taemin told him crossly and dumped an armload of wood into the bin.
“You know,” Jonghyun mused suddenly as if something had suddenly caught his eye, “I think I can do something about that vertical support that you seem to be missing.”
“That is what I thought,” Taemin replied, looking smug.
Onew rolled his eyes and slipped into the back room for his broom. No matter how much magic they threw at his shop, he couldn’t simply wish away the mess he was left with. Magic to un-create things was powerful and forbidden, and he wasn’t about to set the whole mess on fire to get rid of it and possibly lose his store too.
By the time he located where Taemin had tucked the broom, he could hear Key’s voice coming from the front of his café. “What happened here?” the young man asked.
“Him,” Onew offered, stabbing a finger at the unconscious man on the bench. “Can you do something about my windows until I get the money to buy some more panes for them?”
Key pursed his lips and took a long look at the shattered remains of glass. “I might be able to. Do you have any of those table clothes from last spring left in the back?”
“There should be a few,” Onew told him.
“Taemin do you have anything resembling thread in that kitchen of yours?”
“I think so,” Taemin answered, dumping the shards of the center support he had collected at Jonghyun’s feet and then grinning when the man cursed as several bounced off. “Let’s go look.”
-o-o-o-o-o-
Sound returned to him first. The steady stream of syllables as someone chanted, directing the flow of magic. Speakers were dangerous as they could cast magic with nothing more than their voice. They were the only magic users who needed no Channel, or more precisely their voice was the Channel for their magic. It made them incredibly powerful and quick as casting magic where others needed to wait for the magic to build in their Channel.
The memories came next, of the creature and the small café he had chosen to make his stand against it. His fingers curled automatically, looking for his sword, and came up empty. He remembered it being flung from his hand as the explosion had sent him flying. At that he blinked open his eyes and sat up. If the creature had somehow managed to survive he was responsible for it.
“Look who is up,” the young man who he had first seen behind the counter said dryly as he sat up.
“The creature?” he asked.
“On the walls,” the young man replied and brushed a stray clump of dark brown hair from his eyes.
Shifting he took in the walls with their light blue papering covered in splotches of red. “Oh,” he mumbled.
“Yes, oh,” the young man continued crossly, “and I expect payment for the damage to my café.”
That he could understand. He had made a great deal of mess upon his entrance and he would happily pay for it, save for one problem. “I don’t have the money for that.”
The man offered him a flat stare. “Get it.”
If only it was that simple. The creature had a rather large bounty attached to it, however to collect he typically had to bring in a head or limb or some piece of it. All he seemed to have was the blood on the walls. They might give him a portion of the bounty on his word that the creature was dead, but the only proof would be time as the creature did not return.
“For that I will need my sword,” he replied, carefully shifting and placing his feet on the floor. Nothing seemed to be broken.
“I’m keeping the sword,” the man told him firmly, “that way if you can’t pay I can at least sell it and make a profit from it.” Without his sword he was of little use to anyone and they both knew he didn’t have money to buy another.
“There must be some other way that I can repay you,” he offered.
“He could,” the man standing by the window offered, “stay and work off what he owes. You have been saying that you need another hand around here anyway.”
“No,” the man with the broom replied.
“Technically free help. It doesn’t get much better, Onew,” the man pressed, threading a needle and holding up a small square of fabric to the half made patchwork over the window.
“He could be a murdering kidnapper for all we know, I’m not having him in my shop,” the man said firmly.
“You have his sword,” the man at the window pointed out.
All in all he wasn’t certain if he truly wanted to stay and work off his debt but he wouldn’t be leaving until he got his sword back. “I won’t harm anyone under your room or your property. I am willing to swear a magical oath.”
The man paused in his sweeping and narrowed his eyes at him. “You would swear an oath to hurt no one while you are here and to work until your debt is paid?”
“With the understanding that once it is my sword is returned and I am free to go,” he agreed.
The man seemed to be mulling it over for a moment before a shout from the middle of the room made him sigh. “Once we get this mess cleaned up I’ll make the contract for us. You can start by sweeping up your mess.” The man held out the broom to him and he took it.
For a moment he pondered using the solid wood handle as a makeshift sword to subdue the man and take back his sword, but he dismissed the idea almost immediately. Man for hire or not, he had a moral code and attacking defenseless men went completely against it. “My name in Minho,” he offered.
“Onew,” the man replied. “I hope you know how to sweep.”
-o-o-o-o-o-
“You made it so only you can dissolve the oath right?” Taemin asked.
Onew fought the urge to pause and rub at his temples in frustration. “I do know what I am doing, Taemin.”
“I know it is just that you haven’t made one in a long while and-”
“Taemin, if you make me screw this up and I have to start over, I’m going to ruin that batch of batter you have been working on for a week,” Onew told him.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me,” he threatened. Wisely Taemin said nothing and allowed him to finish the intricate design with the cream on the surface of the coffee. When he was done he pushed the cup towards the man sitting on the other side of the counter.
“How do I know that this oath isn’t binding me to something else? I’m not familiar with your particular Channel,” Minho asked.
That wasn’t surprising, as far as he knew he was the only one in the area that used coffee making to channel their magic. “You’ll just have to trust me, then, won’t you?”
“That isn’t exactly fair,” Minho pointed out.
“Maybe you should have thought of that before you burst into my shop,” Onew countered.
The man in front of him sighed and picked up the cup. “Fine, I agree.” He raised the cup to his lips and sipped at the warm liquid inside. Onew could feel the pull of the magic, the only indication that the spell was taking hold. When the man had finished half of the cup he passed it back and Onew immediately raised it to his lips. As he drank it down he could feel the smooth slide of magic spreading through his body. He would know instantly if the man broke the oath, and the magic itself would likely take care of the problem before he had the chance to do anything about it.
“Good. As my newest employee you are now in charge of making this place presentable for business tomorrow. Touch anything that you don’t need to clean and I will know. It will count as a violation of your oath,” Onew informed him.
“Where will you be?” Minho asked, and he caught the man darting a glance to the two men still working in his shop and then to Taemin.
“When Jonghyun and Key are finished, I’m going home. I suggest you get to work,” Onew replied with a sweet smile.
-o-o-o-o-o-
Guilt gnawed at him, eating a hole in his chest by the time he arrived back to his shop the next morning. For all he knew Minho hadn’t picked his café but stumbled in with no other choice in the matter. He had realized sometime during the night that he had been treating the man as if he had intentionally caused all the damage, singled out his café and brought down destruction. Likely the man’s motivations had been much less sinister if the lack of fight he had put up the previous night was any indication.
As he did every morning, Onew unlocked the front door and stepped into his café. Despite his misgivings, the place looked presentable enough. One of the supports, the one that Jonghyun had attempted to put back together the previous night, was indeed crooked. Key’s patchwork handy work covered the window, the magic sewn into the material keeping the cold out and the heat in just as well as any window pane could. The long slash had been patched with scrap wood, leaving evident seams but sealing it against the weather well enough that he could afford to wait a while to find someone to officially patch it up.
Inside the café, where he had left a mess, was a perfectly clean area with two buckets of rubble in the middle. The tables had been rearranged to cover the area where the ones they had lost had been, giving the place a more spacious air then it had previously had. At some point the walls had been scrubbed and saved for a slightly discolored spot on one of the walls, they looked just as they had before their visitor arrived. Slumped in a chair in the corner, sat the man who had been left to spend the night cleaning.
Minho was slumped forward, the broom still clutched in his fingers as if he was intending to sweep in his sleep. His chest rose and fell in the motion of peaceful breath and another pang of guilt stung Onew. He had been all but cruel to this man and Minho had done his best to fix his shop. That didn’t pay off his debt in any way, but it certainly was a step in the right direction. Silently, as he did every morning, Onew slipped behind the counter to begin his opening routine.
-o-o-o-o-o-
The tantalizing scent of coffee and baking assaulted his nose as he slowly awoke from his slumber. His fingers, stiff from the night, flexed open causing the broom to clatter to the floor and him to jump in his seat, fully awake. A look around the café showed it empty save for Onew who was behind the counter putting small jars back onto the shelves. In front of him on the table was a steaming mug of liquid and a giant muffin that was still steaming. Given the coffee he had seen in use the previous night, he wasn’t certain he wanted to trust any of it.
“It’s just regular hot chocolate,” Onew’s voice reassured him, as if he had heard the man’s thoughts. “The only magic in it is a bit to ease any aches or pains and the muffin is completely normal too. Excellent in taste, but no magic.”
Minho’s stomach rumbled, reminding him of just how long it had been since he had eaten. What did it really matter if both were poisoned? He had nothing to lose anyway. Without another thought to its contents he picked up the muffin, peeled back the paper, and took a bite. Flavor burst onto his tongue and he released a soft sound of gratitude.
Onew’s laughter came from the direction of the counter, “He likes it, Taemin!”
“He had better!” another voice echoed from the kitchen.
Swallowing, Minho raised his voice loud enough that the other man could hear, “it is very good, thank you!”
“When you are finished with that,” Onew told him with another laugh, “I’ll take you to the back and get you a proper uniform for your first day of work.”
Minho nodded and took a sip of the hot chocolate. It was easily ten times better than the muffin and he could feel the warmth of the subtle magic spreading through his body. If all of this man’s drinks were so pleasurable to consume, Onew likely made a fortune at his little café.
“Don’t take too long,” Onew told him as he pulled out a towel and began to wipe down the counter, “there is still work to be done.”
Nodding, Minho took another sip of his hot chocolate and then remembered his muffin. If every breakfast he got was like this one, then perhaps he wouldn’t mind his stay as much as he thought he would.
-o-o-o-o-o-
“I’m heading home,” Taemin announced as he flipped off the lights in the kitchen.
Onew smiled as if they were sharing a private joke. “Aw and spare Jonghyun the fun of coming to collect you?”
Taemin rolled his eyes dramatically. “He gets his fun in other ways.”
“I bet,” Onew agreed with a chuckle before turning serious. “Don’t forget we have that large order for relaxing cupcakes in the morning.”
“I won’t,” Taemin replied with a small dismissive wave as he walked past. “See you tomorrow. You, too, Minho.”
Startled, Minho nearly didn’t think of a response until the young man was almost all the way out the front door. “Thank you. Have a good night.”
“So,” Onew said slowly as the door closed behind his business partner, “you wouldn’t happen to have a place to stay in this town?”
“No,” Minho replied honestly. He had never intended on staying after he had slain the creature and he certainly hadn’t planned on staying more than a single night if it came down to it.
Onew sighed, “Of course not. Come on.” Startled, Minho slid off the stool and followed the man as he retrieved his coat and tossed Minho’s cloak to him. He had expected to be left in the shop to find an area to sleep since he was magic bound not to harm anything, however it seemed that Onew had other plans for him.
Together they stepped out into the chilly air and Onew locked the door behind them. Without a word, the man turned and started down the street. For a moment Minho considered going the opposite direction. It would have been easier to walk out of town and find some bounty somewhere else. Even with the magically binding oath he would have considered it if he had had his sword, however he could never leave without it.
With brisk steps he caught up to the man who was walking through the cold and rounded the corner. They walked to a small set of apartment buildings, and he followed Onew up and into the building. Together they stopped at the third floor apartment number 305. Onew slipped his key in the lock, turned and pushed the door open.
The inside of the apartment was small yet homely, perfect for someone who lived by themselves as he suspected Onew did. A small kitchen connected to the living room where a television and a couch sat as the key features. A bedroom door stood open on the right, and a bathroom on the left. Onew toed off his shoes and looked around the apartment as if he was embarrassed. “It’s not much,” he said sheepishly, “but it is home.”
“It’s nice. More than I have,” Minho told him gently. A part of him longed for a place like this, something to call his own, but his way of living had him wandering far too much for that to make any sense.
“I’ll get some sheets for you to make up the couch,” Onew told him as he turned away and hid his face.
“The floor will be fine,” Minho told him. He had, after all, spent nights on less.
“No, you’ll take the couch,” Onew spoke like the conversation was over and shuffled towards his bedroom. Who was Minho to argue?
-o-o-o-o-o-
“So,” the man called Jonghyun began as he leaned against the counter. The man, he had discovered, was the Speaker, yet lacking in much of the talent he had seen in others of that power. Even a week later Taemin and Onew still chuckled at the crooked support in the middle of the shop. “You like Onew.”
That had been the last thing he expected and he paused with the silverware he had been polishing still in his hands. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” Jonghyun told him, and took a sip of his tea.
Minho ducked his head and focused on running the cloth over the fork in his hand. “I think you are mistaken.”
“I saw you watching him earlier as he made coffee.” Minho didn’t have to look to know the man was offering him a smile. Jonghyun seemed to be a daily presence at the café, and constantly sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. Only an hour before Taemin had chased him from the kitchen with a spatula and a war cry.
“The use of his Channel is fascinating to watch,” Minho told him. He had never seen anything like it, someone who performed magic through making coffee.
“Taemin’s Channel is his baking. He can put enough magic into a sheet cake to level a city block and I don’t see you watching him,” Jonghyun replied. Taemin, as it turned out, was significantly more dangerous to watch at work and had a tendency to throw sharp objects when disturbed. He told Jonghyun as much and the man laughed.
“You could watch him from here like I do,” he said with a gesture towards the cut out in the wall that would let them see the kitchen. “The point is that you don’t. You only watch Onew.”
“I do not,” Minho replied, although the denial seemed weak and childish.
“He watches you, too,” Jonghyun commented over his glass.
That had Minho pausing before he started polishing silverware again. Of course Onew watched him, he was a stranger and the man that destroyed half of the café; he would watch too if their roles were reversed. Although the awkwardness of their arrangement seemed to be gone, there couldn’t be anything more to it. Still he made a promise to himself that at the very least he would try to tone down the amount he seemed to watch the other man.
-o-o-o-o-o-
“I’m sad to see them go,” Key told him as he helped wiggle one of the nails that held the makeshift window cover in place. The glass specialist had come and gone that morning, replacing the panes from the outside and taking away the need for the hand fashioned covers. Onew had to admit that he had grown somewhat fond of them as well.
“Maybe we can hang them on the wall?” he offered.
Key grinned at him. “Let me take them home and fix them up first.” Knowing the man and his passion for designing he would return with something that looked incredibly different than the pieces they were taking down.
“I always meant to ask,” Minho commented from the other side of the door where he was working on taking down a window cover, “Why are they a bunch of patches sewn together? Couldn’t you have put up a whole sheet?”
“My Channel,” Key said proudly, “is my sewing. Patchwork let me weather proof them for Onew.”
“Oh?” Minho asked clearly interested. That opened the door for Key to explain all about his shop and how he used his Channel to make a great profit on clothing that he made. Onew let them talk, focusing instead on the small nails that he had to work out of his wall. The wall beneath them would have to be patched and painted. He could probably have Minho do it, with his supervision of course. That way he could make certain it was done to his specification.
He glanced at the man and noted the flex of his muscles as he worked on a particularly stubborn nail. There was strength there, understandable given the skill with which he had seen the man wield a sword, yet at the same time Minho had shown nothing but gentleness in all of his time working there. If Onew hadn’t seen him cause the destruction personally he would have wondered if the man would have even been capable of it.
Minho glanced at him and caught him staring. Their gazes locked and Minho quirked an eyebrow in question. Onew felt his face flush before he could stop himself although he had no reason to do so and he trained his eyes back on the work at hand. There was a comment coming, he could feel it, but thankfully a moan echoing through the store broke anything that was forthcoming.
“That is breaking so many health codes,” Key mused with a glance towards the kitchen.
Onew sighed. At this point he really should know better than to let Jonghyun back in the kitchen with Taemin. “Rock, paper, scissors to see who gets to break them up.”
“Deal,” Key agreed. “Minho, you are in, too.”
“Alright,” the man agreed, startled. Key was a fiend at the game and Minho, as it turned out, was just as skilled at it as he was with a sword.
“I swear if they are using the dough again I will be sick all over my floor,” Onew grumbled as he trudged off towards the kitchen.
“Good luck!” Key called, not bothering to hide the laughter from his voice. Adding in the deeper chuckle of Minho had Onew cursing both of their existences as he trudged to his doom.
-o-o-o-o-o-
“When is his debt going to be paid?” Taemin asked him casually as he loaded the display case with a fresh batch of treats for the day.
Onew glanced up at the man that was wiping down tables in preparation for the day. By all means the near month of work, calculating the wages the man would have made otherwise, would more than cover the cost of the windows and the slash in his wall. Jonghyun’s services were thankfully free not that he would have paid for the crooked mess anyway. With all of that, Minho was near enough to having worked off his debt that he would be done in no time.
“Another week or so,” Onew admitted. He didn’t like the small pang in his chest at the admittance.
“Are you going to ask him to stay on and work as a real employee?” Taemin asked.
“Why would I do that?” Onew returned, not looking at the young man.
“Oh I don’t know,” Taemin told him, in a tone that said they both clearly knew why.
“It isn’t like that,” Onew insisted, moving a stack of cups simply because he needed something to do with his hands.
“Keep telling yourself that,” Taemin said and Onew planned to do just that.
-o-o-o-o-o-
For the rest of the day he studiously ignored the ideas that Taemin had tried to place in his head. After nearly a month of working together, the three of them had things arranged to perfection and Minho was a great help as a sort of waiter and cleaner that allowed him to stay behind the counter and focus on the drinks. Thanks to that addition they were able to serve more customers than ever and business was booming.
As he finished an order, Minho was suddenly there with a tray and a smile to take it to where it belonged. Onew tried to ignore the words of his friends, certain that the suggestions from them were a bigger influence than his own mind, but even he couldn’t deny that he liked the little flutter in his stomach every time Minho offered him that small turn up of the corner of his mouth.
“Crushing,” Taemin whispered as he walked by with a tray of sandwiches for Minho to take to a table.
He nearly snapped back with a childish retort but managed to ignore it in favor of greeting the man that that just walked into the café with a smile. “What can I do for you sir?”
“You can give me all of your money,” the man answered, pulling out an object and pointing it towards him. It took him several moments to process what the man was holding and his demands. “Nobody move!” he shouted, swinging the gun wildly around the room. “Give me all the money in the cash drawer and no one gets hurt.”
The wild look in the man’s eyes kept him from arguing. Desperate men had a tendency to do desperate things and the last thing he needed was to get shot, or anyone else for that matter. Hopefully if he did exactly as the man said nothing else would come of it. “Taemin is going to set down his tray and move to the register. He will get the money for you.”
“No funny business!” the man ordered, swinging the gun at Taemin. The young man froze with the tray half way to the counter.
“None,” Onew agreed, raising his hands slowly. “We will just get the money for you and you can be on your way.” He shuffled a bit, hoping to draw the man’s attention and predictably the gun swung back towards him.
“Get the money!” he ordered.
“We will,” Onew soothed trying to hold his attention. He couldn’t bear the thought of Taemin getting shot because he worked in his shop.
Movement behind the man caught his attention and his heart beat harder for the patrons in his shop. Most sat frozen or shaking in fear at the presence of the man, and he willed them to be silent. Behind the man, Minho shifted, tray in hand. His eyes locked with Onew’s and there was a plea there, but Onew couldn’t figure out for what.
“Hurry up!” the man screamed and Taemin’s fingers fumbled on the register. The man’s shaky hand squeezed off a shot that punched harmlessly into the wall between them but resulted in several screams around the room. “Shut up!” the man screamed pointing the gun at the ceiling and firing. Silence fell on the café again and the gun pointed back at Taemin. “Quickly!” Taemin released a small whimper as he tried to punch in the code to get the drawer to open.
“Hey, asshole,” Minho’s voice came from behind the man.
The man spun and pointed the gun at the seemingly harmless man with a tray standing behind him. “You’re lucky I’m under an oath or you would already be toast.”
“You think you are big stuff?!” the man asked, pointing a shaking gun at Minho’s chest. Onew found he wanted to scream at him to just shut up. “I’ll show you big stuff!”
Terror punched through Onew’s chest as the man squeezed the trigger on the gun. Minho, anticipating the shot was already dropping down below the trajectory of the bullet so that it passed harmlessly over the top of him. Onew had never seen anyone move so fast, but he doubted the man would be able to dodge a second time. Suddenly it occurred to him that Minho shouldn’t have to. He had seen the man expertly wield a sword and he had to have enough training to deal with one man. It was the oath, not to harm anything in his shop, that was keeping him from reacting.
“I release you from your oath!” Onew yelled. Immediately he felt the pop of pressure as the magic binding them released and disappeared in a rush. Startled, the gunman turned towards him only to swing back around as he heard the sound of breaking china as Minho emptied his tray. The gunman turned to face the man that was crouched on the ground and was met with a solid metal serving tray aimed for his face.
Cursing, the man fired his gun blindly, sending a bullet into the floor where he knew Minho had been. Minho, however, was already moving and brought the tray down solidly on the man’s head. He crumpled beneath it and a stomp of Minho’s foot on the gunman’s wrist had him releasing the gun so Minho could kick it away.
As if the thing holding the room was gone, there was suddenly the sound of screaming and clattering of furniture as people rushed for the door and spilled out into the street. “Would have been easier with my sword,” Onew heard Minho mutter as he glared down at the gunman sprawled on the floor and his heart, that he was certain had stopped at some point, began to beat again.
-o-o-o-o-o-
“What is this?” Minho asked as Onew dumped a fabric wrapped bundle onto his lap. The young man said nothing as he moved through the apartment to the bathroom and came back with what appeared to be a medical kit.
“Open it and see,” he said softly as he settled beside him on the bed Minho had been using for nearly a month now. Without saying anything else he pulled out a piece of gauze and began wiping away the blood on Minho’s shoulder. It was largely unnecessary as the bullet had only grazed him and hadn’t done any permanent damage.
He didn’t argue as the man set about cleaning his wound and instead pulled back the fabric from the object in his lap. There, swaddled in cloth, was his sword. He had never gotten around to searching Onew’s place for it, but he had always figured it had been hiding out somewhere here. “My sword,” he said softly.
“Yes,” Onew stated, placing a bit of tape across the graze to hold the two edges together and then bandaging the whole thing. “You have paid off what you owe to the shop, you have your sword, and the oath has been dissolved, so you are free to go.” Tying off the bandage, Onew snapped the medical kit closed and rose. Without another word he disappeared into the bathroom.
So that was how it was to be. After all this time he was supposed to just go without another word on the matter, grab his cloak and slip off into the night. A glance out the window provided him with a glow of softly falling snow illuminated by a street light. It seemed as though there was nothing left for him here, no reason for him to stay, unless Onew gave him one.
“I don’t think my debt is paid,” he said softly. It surprised even him how bad he wanted to stay.
“Yes, it is,” Onew answered, stopping to fill the doorway as if he couldn’t bring himself to come into the room. “I ran the math this morning.”
“No,” Minho disagreed. He could see the beginnings of hope in the man’s eyes as if he was desperate for a reason, a reason to stay. “I just broke three cups, was responsible for two maybe three bullet holes, and dented a tray. I think that will take a week to work off.”
“A week,” Onew said softly.
“Then there is the matter of your couch,” Minho continued.
That had Onew’s brow wrinkling in confusion. “What about my couch?”
“Well,” Minho shifted and set his sword on the cushion so that he could rise and begin to move across the room, “I intend to accidently slip when warming up with my sword tomorrow and cut it to ribbons.” With every word he spoke he moved closer to the man standing in the doorway. “It’s a good couch. It will take at least a month to work off. Then there is the rest of your furniture. I can be very clumsy when warming up.” The last word was whispered as he was so close to Onew that he could make out the small flecks of green sprinkled through his brown irises.
“Or,” Onew said softly, “We can spare my couch since I just replaced it before you showed up from my own tripping accident.”
“We could,” Minho agreed, “but then I wouldn’t have a reason to stay.”
“Minho,” Onew said softly. “Would you stay with me? I mean, with my store,” he corrected quickly but the question was already asked.
With a grin, Minho replied, “I would love to.” Hoping that he hadn’t read the man wrong, he reached forward and curled his fingers in the short hair at the back of Onew’s neck. Then he was leaning in and brushing the man’s lips with his own. At the first touch, Onew was melting into him and it was so much better than one of the man’s famous cups of coffee.
“I think,” he murmured a moment later. “I can find it in me to spare the couch.”
“Shut up,” Onew said with a laugh and pulled Minho in for another kiss.
-o-o-o-o-o-
“You slept with him!” Taemin hissed.
“I did not!” Onew snapped, hating that his cheeks flushed at the comment.
“Look at you! You so very much did!” Taemin was grinning as if he had just won a wonderful prize.
“I did not! I have more class than that,” Onew hissed. Minho glanced at him across the café and winked, causing his flush to deepen. “We just made out,” he grumbled, “for a long time.”
“Oh my god, Lee Jinki! You dirty little boy!”
“You are not one to talk!” Onew snapped, feeling his face heat further. “At least I didn’t cover my boyfriend in cookie dough!”
“That was one time,” Taemin said with a laugh, “so was he good?” The bell jingled to signal the entrance of Jonghyun and Onew glared at him.
“What did I do?” Jonghyun asked throwing up his hands.
Minho chuckled and finished wiping down the table. “Please kindly tell your boyfriend to stop terrorizing my boyfriend about our bedroom activities. I would hate to have to find him a new cook.”
“Did I just hear you say your boyfriend?” Key asked as he pushed in the door behind him. “Onew, you sneaky little devil!”
At the counter, Onew groaned. “I want details!” Key demanded. With another groan his head hit his arm and he wished, for the first time of what he was certain to be many, that he could just melt into the counter.