Chapter Text
The bell over the café door jingles as Stede enters and he can’t help but pause to smile up at it. Three months into the shop’s opening and the new year, and the sound still warms his heart.
“Oh, hi boss.” Lucius greets from behind the counter, framed by displays of tea and snacks and ceramic mugs with bible verses on them. “I, uh, was just about to put the coffee on!” Lucius tucks something under the counter and begins bustling about. “And I can have tea ready in just a moment.”
Stede beams. “Excellent! Something sweet, I think, I have a good feeling about today!” He picks a mug off the stack – a calm teal color with “I can do all things through Christ” on the side – and sets it near the tea kettle as he rounds the counter and pokes his head into the kitchen. “And how are things in here, Roach?”
Roach was a strange name, especially for a chef, and he had strange manners to match. But when Stede had hesitated in the interview the man had offered a challenge and whipped up the best lavender macaroon that Stede had ever tasted and gotten the job on the spot.
Roach looks up from rolling out dough with a flat glare that Stede completely ignores.
“We need more powdered sugar.” A gesture with a knife has Stede edging back out of the space. “And knives that aren’t awful.”
Stede frowns. The salesman had said… No matter. “Pick out something you’d prefer using, and I’ll reimburse you.” Simple enough fix.
Roach inclines his head, nods, and tosses him a biscuit. Stede manages to catch it with only a little flailing. It smells incredible.
“Keep me posted!” He ducks back out, grabs the now-steeping tea, and takes a sniff. “Ooo, excellent choice, Lucius!” He doesn’t really have a free hand for a thumbs up, but he tries. Then he’s out of the cafe and into his pride and joy (besides his children, of course) – Hosana Antiques.
“Hullo, Stede.” Buttons, one of the vendors, looks up from his careful arrangement of taxidermy birds. There seemed to be some pattern to it, which Buttons was happy to explain to anyone who asked, so Stede didn’t. “May the blessings of the Desert Fathers rest on this day.”
Stede’s smile turned a bit stiff. Of course, he’d known that he would likely end up hiring from a variety of groups, part of the point of this shop was to be a light to the unsaved, but he hadn’t expected /Catholics/.
“And uhm, also to you.” Is that the correct reply? Buttons nods, so it must be. Stede smiles awkwardly and continues heading to his office. He passes by a display of Mary’s art and tucks himself into his office for his morning Bible study (and tea).
He fixes his tea properly and pulls out his Bible, reading over today’s section while he sips his tea. After a moment, he frowns, and flips a switch on the shop’s electrical board. Instrumental hymns filter through the store radio – initially Stede had gone with the local contemporary Christian station, but Frenchie, who worked the cash register, had said that he found the lyrics and the news breaks distracting. So instrumentals it was. In truth Stede preferred it now. Much more peaceful.
Stede underlines a verse in his bible and closes the study bible – heavy, leather bound, and color coded - with a satisfied hum. Hm, maybe he should make sure there’s one available to the staff…
He eats the biscuit. It is excellent.
Morning prayer – well, any prayer really – had always been an awkward endeavor for Stede. Study, analysis – he easily could argue translation choices and the value of different editions, and had even won awards at Bible Bowl as a teen. But prayer and worship, the parts that were heart knowledge and not head knowledge…
Stede had been baptized in the spirit as a child, speaking in tongues at one of his father’s sermons. But he remembers little of it, and if he had felt anything that day he never felt it again.
He never felt –
Stede takes a deep breath, finishes his cooling tea, and goes out to the shop floor to do god’s work.
An hour later and Stede is sitting on the floor, cheerfully rearranging his personal section dedicated to Vintage Men’s Fashion. He’d gotten some fascinating pieces in the last week, and while organizing by year still made the most sense, he really wanted to show off the new pieces…
“Boss?”
“Hm?” Stede looks up from his consideration of a lovely plum velvet jacket, his size though not his color. “Ah, Oluwande, what can I help you with?”
His assistant manager gestures with a notepad.
“I was thinking, for the next charity, there’s a foodbank in town that’s been running low lately.”
Oluwande waves a brochure, for the food bank presumably, but Stede doesn’t reach for it. “That sounds like a worthy cause! Go ahead and do the paperwork, I’ll sign it after lunch.”
The bell over the store entrance jingles in a slightly different tone than the one over the café door.
“Hello, welcome!” Stede pops up from the floor without, well, with only a little bit of a wobble.
“Hello, Stede.”
The voice registers before the face. It always does, somehow, an instinct from his ears to his spine.
Stede’s face smiles. “Chauncey! What brings you in today?”
Associate Pastor Chauncey Badminton smiles faintly at Buttons’ display of birds with the same smile he uses for particularly enthusiastic performance by the children’s choir.
“Oh, I just wanted to see how your little shop was getting on.” Chauncey picks up a sparrow and looks it over before setting it down in the wrong spot. “Where did you find such… interesting specimens?”
Behind his smile, Stede feels something in his throat tighten.
“Oh, Buttons is an ornithologist who works at a wildlife rescue. Got into taxidermy to make educational specimens, I believe.”
“Well, the lord works in mysterious ways, I suppose. I haven’t seen you at men’s group lately.”
Stede feels his expression twitch and smooth out again. He’d been hoping his absence wouldn’t be noticed or remarked upon. “With the shop so new, I really can’t spare the mornings. Maybe when things are more established.”
Chauncey inclines his head. “Well, I hope you’ve found your vocation at last. We’ve been praying for you.”
Stede feels his expression twitch again. “Thank you,” he manages. “Feel free to look around, or –“ Stede looks over to see Lucius watching from the café with an expression Stede can’t read. “Oh, check out the café. You know Lucius – Marsha’s boy?”
Chauncey turns and Lucius’ expression flattens. “Oh, of course!” He takes Lucius hand in one of his. “Your father was a good friend of mine.”
Lucius smiles – a bit stiffly, perhaps at the reminder of his late father- and shakes the associate pastor’s hand.
“Have something on the house, if you like. If you’ll excuse me…”
Stede’s legs take him to his office and he hears the latch click behind him.
His knees hit the floor. His throat is too tight. He can’t breathe.
/”Where’s baby Bonnet hidden this time?”
Footsteps, too close, the click of a bb gun -/
“Oh lord my god,” He whispers with eyes squeezed shut, “Forgive me for the anger I hold in my heart. I have not forgiven as you forgive. I have tried, god, I have tried, but only can you heal my wretched heart. Please, take this bitterness from me.”
Minutes or hours later, there is a knock at the office door. Stede stands and brushes dust off his khakis at he opens it.
“That guy is gone, boss.” Oluwande says with an expression Stede doesn’t understand. Stede breathes in, full and deep. “…You okay?”
Stede blinks. “Of course. Why?”
Oluwande’s expression flickers, his lips flattening for a moment. “-No reason. Lucius said that guy was your pastor?”
“Oh, associate pastor.” Stede’s face smiles as he adjusts his clothes. “We went to school together.”
Oluwande’s lips flatten again. “What was that like?”
Is this small talk? Stede has never been good at it. “He and his friends were quite the rapscallions back in the day,” /the thud of bbs against wood, the laughter, holding his breath to try and stay quiet/ “But they’ve all grown into fine men of god.” He’s not sure why he feels the need to add that part.
“Mhm.” Oluwande’s expression doesn’t change. He doesn’t say anything else though, so Stede just smiles at him and goes back to the shop floor.
That night, the Bonnet family gathers for dinner. Stede says a brief blessing and his face smiles at his wife and children.
“Did you do anything fun at school today?” Mary asks in between bites. It’s mostly directed to Alma, but the girl just frowns down at her pasta. Louis, however, starts into a slightly disjointed story of the game they played during recess. Stede nods along and tries to make impressed noises at the right moments, though neither of his children pay him much mind.
Mary shoots him looks, but beyond that it’s as it as if they are at separate tables living separate lives, Stede and outsider in his own home. It is a familiar feeling.
Getting ready for bed, Stede thinks about mentioning Chauncey’s visit. But the silence feels as thick as bulletproof glass, so he just goes to shower instead.
The fog of silence lingers over the weekend, a thick tangle in Stede’s throat that allows only the most banal pleasantries through. He works on his model ship while listening to a podcast and watches the mowers work and smiles at his family and does not dream.
/click click click/
Sunday morning comes with wrangling the children into Church clothes. Alma complains about – her skirt, he thinks? – Stede leaves that to Mary in favor of an extra thorough shave and making sure Louis’ shoes are tied.
At church the children go off to their own classes and Stede and Mary go to their own Sunday School. In truth, Stede hasn’t gone through his workbook, so he copies down answers as they’re discussed and eats store bought muffins and absently thinks that Roach’s baking is much better. He should bring some in sometime. Are they are on the snack rotation? He almost misses the ending call for prayer requests.
(“we’ve been praying for your success,”)
He does not add his shop to the list.
Mary collects the children while Stede goes down to the sanctuary and gets them all seats, smiling politely at people as they pass. No one comes over to chat and he doesn’t seek anyone out.
When he was young, the church sanctuary had been a converted warehouse and used as the gymnasium for the Christian school during the week. Stede had spent hours there, left alone while his father attended to church business. He’d tuck himself into the quietest corners behind the stage and count the steps it took him to cross the floor. The new building was built when he was a teen, and never had the same echoing silence.
Stede’s face smiles at his family as they approach, but Mary looks –
“Hi, honey, you’ve kept your paperwork current with children’s church, right?” Stede’s face freezes. “My assistant just told me she can’t make it.” Mary sighs. “I just need a second adult in the room. I’ll give you a story to read to the littler ones, you can do voices and everything.”
Stede briefly attempted working in Children’s ministry, years ago when Alma was very small. He’d never been veery good at talking to adults, like his father had been, but – Children were easier, he’d figured at the time.
Then he’d actually gotten in front of kids, and, well. But Mary had stuck with it, ending up one of the leaders of Children’s church. Stede had kept his paperwork current with hers, though he’d never quite been able to name why.
Mary pushes her hair back from her face. “Look, I’ll watch the kids for the rest of the day, just, please?”
Stede’s face smiles. “Of course, dear.”
Soft music drifts up from the worship team as the room fills and Worship Leader Nigel tunes his guitar. Stede’s body stands and sings along with the congregation through the opening song. The rhythm of a service is familiar, easy to follow even while his mind is filled with fog. Stede has done it often. From the front, Pastor George calls out for the meet and greet – “And if there’s somebody you don’t know, make them feel welcome!”
Stede feels his shoulders tense.
A hundred conversations kick up around him. The congregation turns into a moving crowd, any one of them liable to try and talk to him or touch him without warning. When he was a teen, once he tried staying seating through it, but no, it was more important to be friendly and welcome.
Being seated hadn’t stopped people from reaching over the back of the chair to grab his shoulder from behind, anyway.
Soon enough, it’s time for the children – too old for nursery but too young to sit through an adult sermon without squirming – to separate off and go to children’s church. Mary takes the lead and Stede’s body follows behind the kids, making sure no one falls behind or wanders off. Behind his placid smile Stede feels a distant ghost, or an exhibit behind glass – unable to touch or be touched. It’s better this way, he decides.
-then he’s in front of a crowd of 5-to7-year-olds and Mary is handing him a booklet open to today’s bible story and he is /terrified/. His throat is too tight to breathe.
This is what doomed his attempt at Children’s ministry. He is not afraid as children, no matter what his old school mates had teased him with -
-his paperwork always came back clear. He has been asked to be here. And yet there is the blinding, bone deep certainty that /he is not supposed to be here/ and there is only a matter of time before –
Stede’s face smiles and his body settles into the chair.
“Hello everyone,” his voice manages. “Today we’re going to hear the story of Jonah and the big whale!”
He gets through the story.
He does not do any voices.
“Oh, but your work is lovely, I’d be happy to have some in my shop.” John, apparently Frenchie’s roommate, had come in offering to sell a spare dress form so Stede could display his favorite pieces. But then they’d started talking about vintage clothing and John showed Stede some of his reproductions, and they’d gotten a touch off topic. “Talk to Oluwande, he’s got all the paperwork for vendors.”
The shop bell jingles and Stede’s shoulders tense. He’d quite liked the sound at first, but perhaps it’s gotten a bit on his nerves.
“Hello, wel-come…”
Stede swallows down the stutter and doesn’t stay anything more.
The man is – Stede can only categorize elements at first. Long dark hair with streaks of silver, pulled back with wild curls escaping; a loose purple tank top showing off muscled arms and ink on warm brown skin –
“Hi.” Stede’s eyes snap up, friendly smile fixed in place. The man looks up from his phone and gestures with his thumb at one of Buttons displays. “Are these real?”
“Oh, yes, taxidermies.” Stede inches closer, trying to follow the path of ink up his shoulder. He’s just curious – he’s never seen so much ink on one person before. “Buttons works at a wildlife sanctuary and when one of the birds dies he turns into – reliquaries, I think.”
Stede has been researching Catholicism to try and understand Buttons’ perspective, though it doesn’t seem to be helping…
The man carefully lifts up a seagull, looking at it from all angles. Stede glances at the tag indicating the bird’s likes and dislikes.
“And this is – Alphonzo, I think!”
“I love him.” The man tucks Alphonzo under his arm careful and stares around the shop. “What is this place?”
The way he looks around – it’s not with Chauncey’s polite humoring or Mary’s exhaustion, like this is pathetic effort by a man trying to do something that matters. This stranger grins and looks around the shop the way Stede sees it – the way Stede felt the first time he’d gone into an antique store, infinite possibility and potential tucked into secret nooks and crannies.
Stede realizes quite suddenly that he wants to know everything about this man, this compelling stranger who wandered into his shop. He is drawn, for reasons he cannot name –
“Oh, this is my shop, I opened a few months ago,” he says a moment too late, watching the man wander towards the Vintage clothing section and touch the sleeve of a cashmere sweater– one fingertip, slowly, as if to focus on the texture. “Do you fancy a fine fabric?”
The man looks up, considering. “Ya know, I think I do.” He tilts his head, looking deeper into the clothing with more interest than Mary had ever shown in Stede’s fancier interests. Stede eyes the breadth of the man’s shoulders and the way the purple shirt makes his skin glow and he – he can’t help himself. It’s the artist in him, maybe.
“I may have something…” He flips through hangers until he finds – ah yes. He pulls out the velvet jacket he had been considering before. “You look to be about my size, and this isn’t really my color, it washes me out horribly but…” Stede holds up the plum jacket up to the man’s chest and yes, the color is perfect for him – then he realizes exactly how close he’s gotten and steps back. “Oh, sorry, I.”
The man grins and his smile is – Stede feels warm, all of a sudden. Something is happening, some awareness that Stede doesn’t understand is flaring. Is this the touch of the spirit? “You’re fine, mate. Lemme take a look – oh yeah, I got a couch like this. Different color, though, it’s green.”
Green would also suit him, Stede thinks. He has the briefest vision of using the man to model all sorts of things, but he – “Oh, I’m terribly sorry, I should introduce myself. I’m Stede.”
“Ed. I’d offer a hand, but.” He gestures with the hand holding the seagull with a wink. “I wanna try this on, you got a mirror anywhere?”
“Yes, of course.” Stede turns to the wall and slides a panel aside to reveal the mirror. It was a bit expensive to install, but absolutely worth it. He turns back to see the man – Ed – shrugging the jacket on with Alphonzo balanced on a nearby shelf. It’s not quite a perfect fit, but it’s close. And as he expected, the color is magnificent on him. He looks like a painting, or a model. The deep plum looks almost black against his skin and the lighter purple of his tank top. He is – striking, arresting.
“Man, you’ve got a good eye for this.” Ed tugs on the sleeve – a bit long on him, but an easy enough alteration. “I look all classy in this.”
“Oh, I think you would look good in most anything,” Stede says, and immediately regrets it when Ed chuckles. It’s overly familiar, the sort of thing that men don’t say to other men, the sort of thing that got him unpleasant attention as a youth. He never meant anything by it, but – stumbling blocks, he thinks. “I’m sorry, you probably came in here looking for something…”
Ed waves a hand as he takes the jacket off. “Ya know, I was actually looking for this café someone mentioned? I must have put the address in my phone wrong…”
“Oh, the café is attached!” Stede gestures over to the café. Perhaps he needs to make the street entrance more obvious. “If you like, I can get something started for you while you pay for those?”
Ed grins and winks as he heads off to the cash register. “Surprise me.”
Stede – feels warm. Is this guiding hand of god? It is something, something that feels like prickles on his skin.
“Lucius!” He calls out as he enters the café. Something clatters behind the counter but Lucius doesn’t look down at whatever it is. No matter. “Two of my favorite coffee drink, thank you.”
Stede looks over his café, strangely nervous. Everything is how it should be, but he spends a moment making sure the wall hangings are level and the stack of free bible studies are arranged properly. He picks a seat underneath one of his favorite paintings (besides the ones Mary does, of course) – a potter’s wheel with clay being shaped by strong masculine hands.
After a few minutes, which Stede absolutely doesn’t spend fidgeting, Ed pokes his head into the café and smiles when he sees Stede.
Gosh, has he made a friend? Stede has never been good about that.
As Ed approaches the table, there’s another clattering noise from behind the counter. Stede looks over with a frown.
“Lucius, are you feeling all right? You’ve been very clumsy today.”
“Yep, just fine!” Lucius calls back, righting the boxes of tea he’d knocked over without looking away from Ed. “I’m okay, I’ll have your drinks out in a second.”
Odd. Stede shrugs and turns back to Ed. Ed is setting Alphonzo on the table carefully, as if the bird were a part of the conversation, and taking the chair across from Stede. Ed stretches one long leg out to rest on a nearby seat. It looks – Stede looks away.
“So, what’re we having?”
“Well, I haven’t named it yet.”
Lucius comes over with two mugs, still staring at Ed. Stede supposes it is strange to share a drink with a customer. Ed takes a mug and stares at it much the same way as he examined the seagull. Stede almost wiggles in his seat.
“Take a sip, it’s my favorite.”
Ed’s eyebrows twitch up and he takes a sip. Then he pulls back sharply, blinking down at it. There’s whipped cream in his mustache.
“…I think I can feel my teeth enamel eroding.” Stede’s stomach clenches, he shouldn’t have said it was his favorite – “It’s delicious. I want twelve.”
Relief startles a laugh out of him. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, or at least not all at once.”
Ed waves a hand dismissively, still grinning. “I’ll just have to come back for the rest, yeah?”
Stede feels – he takes a sip of his own drink until he can reply with, “You’re welcome whenever you like.”
Ed winks at him and then settles back in his chair. “I saw at the checkout – that little card, says 15% to charity?”
“Oh, yes, I mean I may adjust the percentages up depending on how the shop does, but I haven’t decided how to do that yet.”
Ed shifts both feet to the floor and leans forward. He seems constantly animated, fluid and easy. “What I do at – I own the boxing gym, the one down the block?” He gestures with his free hand. “What I do is a donate a flat percentage of everyone’s fees, and then people can opt in to adding a donation to their monthly fee. Usually just like, a dollar, but that kinda thing can add up, and people feel involved.”
Stede nods, patting down his pockets. “I can absolutely add something like that, that’s a great idea.” Darn, nothing to write with. “I opened this shop to support local artists, of course, but also to – do good in my community.” He’s being too earnest, but Ed is just nodding along. “I mean, I’m perfectly happy to just sell my wife’s paintings, but.”
It seems vital, all of a sudden, to mention he is married, as if his wedding ring isn’t visible on the hand around his mug. Stede isn’t sure why, and any thoughts are cut off by the roar of a motorcycle pulling in infront of the café.
“Heeey, there’s my ride!” Ed waves through the glass, gesturing at the rider for them to come in. Stede stares at the man who comes in.
Leather boots, leather pants, leather jacket and gloves. The rider tugs their motorcycle helmet off. It’s black with a sticker on the side – a flag, maybe, with blue and black stripes and a red heart in the corner.
“Eddie, I brought a helmet for y- Is that a fucking seagull?”
The man’s voice sounds like a whisper of gravel. Between the leather and the voice and the swearing and the – is that a face tattoo? Yes, a small x under his eye – the man looks dangerous. Is he really Ed’s friend?
“Yeah, that’s Alphonzo. Iz, was it Pete that does the little-” Ed makes a series of hand gestures that Stede can’t interpret. “Outta wood?”
The man – Iz? – shrugs vaguely. “Probably, yeah. Why is there a seagull and why did you name it?”
“I didn’t name it, he came with that name.” Ed pulls Buttons’ little handwritten tag out. “’Alphonzo, likes French fries and long morning flights.’”
“I can’t believe you bought the seagull version of a haunted doll.”
Ed cackles with laughter. Stede has no idea what relationship these two have.
“Seriously, Edward, if that thing comes to life and pecks you to death I’m not helping you.”
Ed laughs harder, eventually managing, “Alphonzo would never.”
“Uhm?” Stede doesn’t mean to interrupt, it’s just – who is this man and why is he here.
“Oh, shit, right.” Ed pushes hair out of his face. “Iz, this is Stede, this is his shop. Stede, this is Izzy, he runs the gym with me.”
“Charmed.” Stede’s smile might be a bit flat, perhaps, but so is Izzy’s.
“All right, I gotta head off. I’ll be back though, this was fun.” Ed stands and downs the rest of drink in one go and winks at Stede. “See ya around.”
Stede watches Ed leave, seagull in hand. The jingle of the café door sounds almost sad, now. Stede watches them, how easily they move around each other as Ed throws an arm over Izzy’s shoulder and –
-Ed puts his hand behind Izzy’s head and pulls him close and kisses him.
Later, Stede will call it shock, surprise at the casual openness of it. He will pretend the jolt in his stomach was a warning from the spirit, or even craven lust.
But right now as he watches them through the window, the moment bright and shining, he thinks – oh.
They look happy.
Stede swallows the thought down, but it lodges in his throat and does not move.
“Oh. Well. Goodness,” He manages after a moment. He turns to gather up the mugs, but Lucius already has them in hand. “What.” Stede swallows again. Lucius is watching him with an expression Stede does not understand. “What interesting men.”
Lucius tilts his head, his lips squeezing together for a moment. “I’m… sure god brought them here for a reason.”
Stede brightens. Of course! Hadn’t he felt the touch of the spirit? Hadn’t he wanted to be a light in the community? Of course. An opportunity to share.
He couldn’t wait for Ed to come back.