Coffee and Cats - Part Three
Title: Coffee and Cats
Author: ninedaysaqueen
Beta: openedlocket
Rating: PG/K+
Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of The Thief, The Queen of Attolia, The King of Attolia, A Conspiracy of Kings, nor of any characters, locations, and elephants contained within. All rights of the Queen's Thief series belong exclusively to Megan Whalen Turner and her respective publishers.
Summary: AU college setting. At the coffee shop where Eugenides usually spends his afternoons, he repeatedly encounters a stormy-eyed woman who peaks his interests.
Author's Note: I am always nervous about posting conclusions. I hope this meets all your expectations! Now, please excuse me while I hide behind the sofa.
Enjoy!
Chapter Index
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Eugenides stood in front of the dean's office.
This section of campus was the newest part of the educational infrastructure. The dean's office along with the Bursar’s office and other places of importance all branched off the domed atrium. Students often referred to it as Rome, for it was to its gleaming walls and marble engraved alumni that to all roads led.
The dean was also a professor of archeology, specializing in Middle Eastern artifacts; and because of the yellowed pieces of pottery and camel pelts that decorated his office, he was commonly referred to as the magus across the campus. The singular term for the wise men of the Middle East, the magi.
It was lunch time, and the lobby was dead quiet. The exaggerated gloss of the cherrywood door seemed to mock Eugenides where he stood, and he glared menacingly at the little gold sign.
The door nearly smacked him in the face. The magus was startled and stepped back, almost dropping his briefcase. “Oh, I'm-” he began to apologize, but trailer off when he saw who he'd almost given a bloody nose. “Oh, it's you...”
Eugenides smiled sheepishly and waved an awkward greeting. During freshmen year, Eugenides had been the prime suspect of several childish pranks on campus, including an unflattering drawing that had been scribbled on the magus's portrait in the main hall. Much to the magus's grief, nothing was ever been proven in regards to Eugenides's guilt. The security camera footage had mysteriously disappeared and even the offending ink eventually vanished into the canvas.
“Was there something you needed, Eugene?” the magus asked coldly.
“It's Eugenides,” he corrected. “Got a moment?”
“I suppose I must. Walk with me?” the old man requested, waving his hand in a 'follow me' gesture.
“I have a concern I'd like to report,” said Eugenides, running after the magus.
“This concern wouldn't include a confession, would it?” sarcastically added the dean.
“ 'Fraid not, sir,” Eugenides answered with a hint of smug mirth.
The magus's frowned. “So, so, so, what's seems to be the trouble?”
Silence.
Eugenides stopped. The magus stopped too and turned to peer curiously at the student. “Son?” he asked warily.
After a long moment of quiet, Eugenides shook himself. “I think we need better food in the mess hall. Preferably, lettuce in the salad bar that's green and meat on the hot bar that's not.”
The magus glared. “You've got a lot of nerve, son, if...” the old man began to say, but he trailed off into a sigh. “But I suppose, that's not always such a bad thing. Your concern has been noted, and if there's nothing else...”
Eugenides shook his head. “Nope. Don't let me keep you from your green lettuce,” he called after the dean.
The magus half-rolled his eyes in exasperation. Turning sharply, he left. A breeze of crisp air blew into the hall as the door swung shut.
-X-X-X-
Eugenides nearly fractured his door sill as he stormed into his room and fell heavily into the chair at his desk. Leaning forward, he whacked his forehead on the rounded edge of the work space. When this didn't prove satisfactory, Eugenides considered another attempt; but Sophos stopped him with a tap on the shoulder.
“I've got some good news.” Sophos smiled enigmatically, his hands hidden behind his back.
“Define good,” muttered Eugenides grumpily.
Sophos grinned and pulled his hands out from behind him. Pinched in between two of his fingers was a hundred dollar bill.
Eugenides snatched it from Sophos's grip, unfolding it in a flurry. It was a little worse for wear than he remembered, but it had an identical five digit code written across Franklin's forehead. It was the same bill. “Where was it?” Eugenides asked urgently, standing up.
Sophos cringed. “You'll laugh, and I'm sorry I forgot to mention this before, but I borrowed a vacuum from one of the girls on the next floor and cleaned under all the furniture. It must have fallen somewhere behind your desk, and I found it inside the vacuum canister when I thought to check today.” Sophos averted his eyes. “I'm really sorry...”
Setting the money on his desk, Eugenides sat down again, leaning his elbows on his knees. He sprawled his hands across his face, but he couldn't stop his shoulders from shaking in mirth.
“Gen...?” said Sophos warily. “Are you laughing?”
Eugenides jumped to his feet and grabbed Sophos's shoulders in a friendly hug. “Yes, I'm laughing!” he exclaimed. “I'm laughing, because you're so ridiculous. And I love it!”
-X-X-X-
“Hey! Bambi!” Eugenides shouted down the hall. Ambiades turned sharply, catching the air born football as deftly as a pro.
“You can have that,” Eugenides said as he walked closer, smiling knowingly.
Ambiades held the football in front of him, examining it as if he thought it might explode. “This is signed by Steve Young,” observed Ambiades dubiously.
“Yup...” Eugenides drawled. “My dad took me and my brothers to a game one year, and got us all autographed balls.” He shrugged. “Never been into sports much myself, so you can keep that.”
Ambiades's jaw dropped.
Eugenides smirked impishly and walked passed Ambiades, continuing down the hall.
-X-X-X-
“Drink that.” She set a cup of something frothy and milky down in front of him. He glanced up at her through his eyelashes and set his pen down. It was the first time he hadn't notice her come in beforehand. “When did you...” he trailer off.
Her eyes twinkled, and she propped her right heel on the edge of the pew. She was wearing a pair of soft, leather Mary Janes. “Thought I'd take your advice, and I must say, these are much easier on my toes.”
He snorted and picked up the drink she'd offered him, sniffing it suspiciously. “What is this?” he asked, swirling the hot drink about in the mug as much as he could without spilling.
“Cider latte. You drink too much non-herbal teas. All that caffeine is bad for you,” said Irene reproachfully.
He rolled his eyes, taking a sip. It was actually quite good. “Thank you, mother,” he countered with a coy smirk.
Irene crossed her arms. “I'm not quite that old... might I remind you.”
Eugenides set his cup down and sighed. “I didn't mean it like that. You're not old at all.”
Irene remained expressionless. “I'm twenty-nine and how old are you, Eugenides?”
He glared at her grumpily. “Almost twenty.”
“Exactly...” she leaned back in her chair and took a sip of her latte. “On one hand, my TA is only three years younger than myself, and on the other hand, you're barely an adult.” She studied him critically. “I'm very young to be a professor, and I've worked hard to get where I am. You understand that I would never jeopardize my position?”
Eugenides's good humor vanished from his face. “This your way of telling me to stop talking to you?”
Irene shook her head. “Not at all. This is my way of telling you that when you graduate none of this will matter.”
Eugenides smiled contently. It was as close to a promise as he was going to get. “No meeting the parents then?” he asked jokingly.
The light drained from Irene's eyes, and Eugenides frowned at her reaction.
She looked away. “I was emancipated at age sixteen, Eugenides,” she said, turning to meet his eyes again. Her expression remained distant. “I grew up in foster homes after my parents died in a car accident.”
“Oh...” Eugenides began, but found himself at a loss for words. “I'm sorry. I didn't know.”
Irene smirked. “Of course, you didn't. I never told you.”
An easy silence fell between them, till Irene broke it with a question.
“Did you sort out your problem?” She tilted her mug in his direction. “With your roommate's friend, I mean?”
This startled Eugenides from his revery. “Oh, yes,” he said nodding. “Yes, I did. Turns out my roommate sucked up my money with a vacuum cleaner.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “You were right. I jumped to the wrong conclusion.”
Irene smiled. “I knew that you'd figure it out, and now... I have a more important question.”
Eugenides cringed but waited expectantly.
“Have you ever considered taking an art class or even making it your minor?”
Eugenides shook his head. “A science major with an art minor... Yeah, that makes a lot of sense.”
Irene frowned. “I've been honest with you, haven't I?” He opened his mouth to protest but was cut short.
“Now, I want you to be honest with yourself.” She leveled a finger at him. Her nails were painted a vivid red today. “Take an art course next semester.”
Eugenides lowered his gaze and traced the scratches on the table with his fingertips. “Eugenides?” Irene said seriously, and Eugenides sighed.
“It's a promise.” He picked up his latte mug and tapped it against her's. “A coffee promise.”
They both drank.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Thank you for reading,
ninedaysaqueen
Author: ninedaysaqueen
Beta: openedlocket
Rating: PG/K+
Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of The Thief, The Queen of Attolia, The King of Attolia, A Conspiracy of Kings, nor of any characters, locations, and elephants contained within. All rights of the Queen's Thief series belong exclusively to Megan Whalen Turner and her respective publishers.
Summary: AU college setting. At the coffee shop where Eugenides usually spends his afternoons, he repeatedly encounters a stormy-eyed woman who peaks his interests.
Author's Note: I am always nervous about posting conclusions. I hope this meets all your expectations! Now, please excuse me while I hide behind the sofa.
Enjoy!
Chapter Index
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Eugenides stood in front of the dean's office.
This section of campus was the newest part of the educational infrastructure. The dean's office along with the Bursar’s office and other places of importance all branched off the domed atrium. Students often referred to it as Rome, for it was to its gleaming walls and marble engraved alumni that to all roads led.
The dean was also a professor of archeology, specializing in Middle Eastern artifacts; and because of the yellowed pieces of pottery and camel pelts that decorated his office, he was commonly referred to as the magus across the campus. The singular term for the wise men of the Middle East, the magi.
It was lunch time, and the lobby was dead quiet. The exaggerated gloss of the cherrywood door seemed to mock Eugenides where he stood, and he glared menacingly at the little gold sign.
The door nearly smacked him in the face. The magus was startled and stepped back, almost dropping his briefcase. “Oh, I'm-” he began to apologize, but trailer off when he saw who he'd almost given a bloody nose. “Oh, it's you...”
Eugenides smiled sheepishly and waved an awkward greeting. During freshmen year, Eugenides had been the prime suspect of several childish pranks on campus, including an unflattering drawing that had been scribbled on the magus's portrait in the main hall. Much to the magus's grief, nothing was ever been proven in regards to Eugenides's guilt. The security camera footage had mysteriously disappeared and even the offending ink eventually vanished into the canvas.
“Was there something you needed, Eugene?” the magus asked coldly.
“It's Eugenides,” he corrected. “Got a moment?”
“I suppose I must. Walk with me?” the old man requested, waving his hand in a 'follow me' gesture.
“I have a concern I'd like to report,” said Eugenides, running after the magus.
“This concern wouldn't include a confession, would it?” sarcastically added the dean.
“ 'Fraid not, sir,” Eugenides answered with a hint of smug mirth.
The magus's frowned. “So, so, so, what's seems to be the trouble?”
Silence.
Eugenides stopped. The magus stopped too and turned to peer curiously at the student. “Son?” he asked warily.
After a long moment of quiet, Eugenides shook himself. “I think we need better food in the mess hall. Preferably, lettuce in the salad bar that's green and meat on the hot bar that's not.”
The magus glared. “You've got a lot of nerve, son, if...” the old man began to say, but he trailed off into a sigh. “But I suppose, that's not always such a bad thing. Your concern has been noted, and if there's nothing else...”
Eugenides shook his head. “Nope. Don't let me keep you from your green lettuce,” he called after the dean.
The magus half-rolled his eyes in exasperation. Turning sharply, he left. A breeze of crisp air blew into the hall as the door swung shut.
-X-X-X-
Eugenides nearly fractured his door sill as he stormed into his room and fell heavily into the chair at his desk. Leaning forward, he whacked his forehead on the rounded edge of the work space. When this didn't prove satisfactory, Eugenides considered another attempt; but Sophos stopped him with a tap on the shoulder.
“I've got some good news.” Sophos smiled enigmatically, his hands hidden behind his back.
“Define good,” muttered Eugenides grumpily.
Sophos grinned and pulled his hands out from behind him. Pinched in between two of his fingers was a hundred dollar bill.
Eugenides snatched it from Sophos's grip, unfolding it in a flurry. It was a little worse for wear than he remembered, but it had an identical five digit code written across Franklin's forehead. It was the same bill. “Where was it?” Eugenides asked urgently, standing up.
Sophos cringed. “You'll laugh, and I'm sorry I forgot to mention this before, but I borrowed a vacuum from one of the girls on the next floor and cleaned under all the furniture. It must have fallen somewhere behind your desk, and I found it inside the vacuum canister when I thought to check today.” Sophos averted his eyes. “I'm really sorry...”
Setting the money on his desk, Eugenides sat down again, leaning his elbows on his knees. He sprawled his hands across his face, but he couldn't stop his shoulders from shaking in mirth.
“Gen...?” said Sophos warily. “Are you laughing?”
Eugenides jumped to his feet and grabbed Sophos's shoulders in a friendly hug. “Yes, I'm laughing!” he exclaimed. “I'm laughing, because you're so ridiculous. And I love it!”
-X-X-X-
“Hey! Bambi!” Eugenides shouted down the hall. Ambiades turned sharply, catching the air born football as deftly as a pro.
“You can have that,” Eugenides said as he walked closer, smiling knowingly.
Ambiades held the football in front of him, examining it as if he thought it might explode. “This is signed by Steve Young,” observed Ambiades dubiously.
“Yup...” Eugenides drawled. “My dad took me and my brothers to a game one year, and got us all autographed balls.” He shrugged. “Never been into sports much myself, so you can keep that.”
Ambiades's jaw dropped.
Eugenides smirked impishly and walked passed Ambiades, continuing down the hall.
-X-X-X-
“Drink that.” She set a cup of something frothy and milky down in front of him. He glanced up at her through his eyelashes and set his pen down. It was the first time he hadn't notice her come in beforehand. “When did you...” he trailer off.
Her eyes twinkled, and she propped her right heel on the edge of the pew. She was wearing a pair of soft, leather Mary Janes. “Thought I'd take your advice, and I must say, these are much easier on my toes.”
He snorted and picked up the drink she'd offered him, sniffing it suspiciously. “What is this?” he asked, swirling the hot drink about in the mug as much as he could without spilling.
“Cider latte. You drink too much non-herbal teas. All that caffeine is bad for you,” said Irene reproachfully.
He rolled his eyes, taking a sip. It was actually quite good. “Thank you, mother,” he countered with a coy smirk.
Irene crossed her arms. “I'm not quite that old... might I remind you.”
Eugenides set his cup down and sighed. “I didn't mean it like that. You're not old at all.”
Irene remained expressionless. “I'm twenty-nine and how old are you, Eugenides?”
He glared at her grumpily. “Almost twenty.”
“Exactly...” she leaned back in her chair and took a sip of her latte. “On one hand, my TA is only three years younger than myself, and on the other hand, you're barely an adult.” She studied him critically. “I'm very young to be a professor, and I've worked hard to get where I am. You understand that I would never jeopardize my position?”
Eugenides's good humor vanished from his face. “This your way of telling me to stop talking to you?”
Irene shook her head. “Not at all. This is my way of telling you that when you graduate none of this will matter.”
Eugenides smiled contently. It was as close to a promise as he was going to get. “No meeting the parents then?” he asked jokingly.
The light drained from Irene's eyes, and Eugenides frowned at her reaction.
She looked away. “I was emancipated at age sixteen, Eugenides,” she said, turning to meet his eyes again. Her expression remained distant. “I grew up in foster homes after my parents died in a car accident.”
“Oh...” Eugenides began, but found himself at a loss for words. “I'm sorry. I didn't know.”
Irene smirked. “Of course, you didn't. I never told you.”
An easy silence fell between them, till Irene broke it with a question.
“Did you sort out your problem?” She tilted her mug in his direction. “With your roommate's friend, I mean?”
This startled Eugenides from his revery. “Oh, yes,” he said nodding. “Yes, I did. Turns out my roommate sucked up my money with a vacuum cleaner.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “You were right. I jumped to the wrong conclusion.”
Irene smiled. “I knew that you'd figure it out, and now... I have a more important question.”
Eugenides cringed but waited expectantly.
“Have you ever considered taking an art class or even making it your minor?”
Eugenides shook his head. “A science major with an art minor... Yeah, that makes a lot of sense.”
Irene frowned. “I've been honest with you, haven't I?” He opened his mouth to protest but was cut short.
“Now, I want you to be honest with yourself.” She leveled a finger at him. Her nails were painted a vivid red today. “Take an art course next semester.”
Eugenides lowered his gaze and traced the scratches on the table with his fingertips. “Eugenides?” Irene said seriously, and Eugenides sighed.
“It's a promise.” He picked up his latte mug and tapped it against her's. “A coffee promise.”
They both drank.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Thank you for reading,
ninedaysaqueen