Chapter Text
All Madison had to do was survive 21 more minutes.
He could manage that.
It was currently 1:39 a.m., and Madison had been up since six. This was, unfortunately, not an uncommon occurrence. Neither was the head cold he’d been battling since the day before. Madison had always been prone to sickness even as a small child, a rather irritating fact that had followed him into adulthood. Oftentimes, making his workload far less manageable than it should have been and consequently rendering him practically useless, which always made him feel incredibly guilty since it meant his coworkers had to work harder. He was technically in a higher position than them, and therefore, it was his responsibility to make sure everything ran smoothly, and yet he’d been unable to manage that for at least a week.
In all honesty, his coworkers were some of the few people Madison actually enjoyed being with; he would consider them friends if he weren’t their superior. After all, it had been Maria that had told him that you could build immunity by increasing muscle mass; that was the whole reason he’d started going to the gym in the first place. Unfortunately, things hadn’t worked out that way quite yet, but at least it gave him something to do to get his mind off of work.
Something he was apparently in a desperate need of if he was to rely on her rather frequent jabs at his apparent lack of hobbies or relationships. The subject had been brought up numerous times and shut down just as quickly every time because the unfortunate truth was that Madison would be impossible to date.
He was routinely ill, constantly run down, and slightly dull, or at least that’s what his past two relationships had told him when they couldn’t stand his newest batch of excuses as to why he had to work late. It had been at least a year or so since Sally, his first real relationship, and after that, well, things had been dry. He could blame the failure on any number of things, but truth be told, he barely had any time to relax as it was; adding another person’s wants and needs would just complicate his already delicate schedule.
Madison had both his job and studies to juggle without the added complications of being unable to afford both bills and cold medicine; it was simply too much to add anything else to. And the only way to get through that was to do one thing at a time without thinking of the next. He just had to wipe the table twice. Now he needed to turn off the espresso machines and wait two minutes before unplugging them so as not to get an electric shock. It was how he managed everything when his skull felt like it was shattering from pressure. Just one thing at a time.
Tonight, however, it was proving to be insanely more challenging. He really hoped the ache in his head wasn’t from fever. He still had to walk home in the cold after all. It was early autumn, but the weather had just started getting chillier. His limbs felt heavy as they desperately continued the mundanity of his tasks. If he hadn’t been working there long enough to not have to think about what he was doing, he was sure he’d have passed out hours ago.
Thankfully, the day had been slow. Miraculously, he hadn’t coughed on a single customer, though that might have been because he was in charge of the closing shift, which was always slower than the rest. Madison sighed, glancing back up towards the clock again. He was never taking this shift again. Usually, he didn’t care for it particularly, often leaving it to Lafayette or Burr, but he’d had to cover for the latter since the man had apparently had other obligations to attend to, whatever that meant.
He’d been cleaning the countertop for the past half hour with the same worn-down cloth he’d used to wipe down the table, and it was as ineffective as ever. He scrubbed harder on a sticky substance that might have been syrup before giving up when it didn’t budge.
Nobody had come in since 11:30, and even then it had been an old woman seeking directions towards the nearest bus stop, nothing of any importance. She had left after he’d assisted her without buying anything and thanked him for being such a “sweet young man,” the nicest thing someone had said to him that day. Madison couldn’t exactly complain; the job paid the bills. Barely. And one might retort that he wasn’t exactly living in luxury, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. And he’d had the misfortune of ending up as the former.
Of course, Madison had found that practicality is often the best solution in any given situation. He’d like to think of himself as somewhat logical, and with a job like this, comes predictability, a routine that strays little enough to invite no need for adaptability, something he’s rarely capable of when under the weather. All this shift meant was that he would have to wait a few more hours to down one of his last remaining cold pills, and pass out until the next day.
He’d need to buy more medicine soon, he realized then. How much money could he spare for that? After doing a quick mental calculation, the answer was not very much.
Damnit.
He could probably ration his last few pills to last him at least another day.
If not, he’d have to make do.
He sniffled into a very used tissue and grimaced; it was his last, but it had to go. He discarded it onto the quickly forming pile on top of the bin. He chose to ignore the unhygienic mess in favor of watching the clock, knowing he had the morning shift the next day and an afternoon class, but at least three hours to sleep between. He could throw the trash out then before anyone got there.
1:43.
He groaned softly and leaned his arm on the counter, pressing his body weight onto it as to not collapse from fatigue. Either the clock was broken or time was ticking by purposefully slowly. His lament was interrupted by the chime of the door as someone entered. Madison immediately straightened and glanced in their direction.
A man, tall, well-groomed, seemingly around the same age as him if a bit older, clearly well off financially but not flaunting necessarily, every item of clothing was meticulously arranged and tailored in a way that suggested it had been made directly for him. Still, he lacked openly displayed brand names which pointed to old money, the kind that couldn’t be compensated for by any type of displayed wealthiness. Still, despite his lack of flair, Madison was entirely certain the man was anything but unassuming. He carried himself with a certainty that couldn’t be imitated, as if he was the sole most important person in the room at any given time. Based on the black car he’d exited from, visible from out of the window, and the man at the wheel who Madison assumed was his driver, he had no doubt that was almost always the case. He was rather soaked from the storm outside, which seemed rather counterintuitive since he’d come from the inside of a car. Madison couldn’t help but hope that the weather would clear up in the next sixteen minutes; he didn’t want to aggravate his cold if he was given a choice.
“Excuse me,” the man snapped his fingers in front of Madison’s nose, redirecting his attention. “Aren’t workers supposed to greet their customers, or does it work differently in the North?” Even through the Southern accent, Madison didn’t miss the irritation laced into the remark.
“My apologies, what would you like to order, sir?” Madison had dealt with a number of entitled customers, people who believed themselves to be the center of the world and in all instances the only solution that was even slightly effective is to treat them as any other customer. The reason this method works so well is because basic politeness renders them incapable of finding a suitable grievance to reprimand whomever is serving them and yet they become too annoyed to come back again, avoiding future conflict.
The man sniffed and sauntered over to the counter.
“I need a hairdryer.” Madison blinked.
“Excuse me?” He wasn’t sure if he’d heard the man correctly; his fever-addled mind must have come up with some nonsense instead of what the man had actually said. Surely the absurdity of such a request from a coffee shop made the plausibility of that being the actual order close to null. Right?
“Impolite and deaf, I see. No wonder you work here. I was simply informing you that I am in dire need of a hairdryer, and I’d find it preferable that you procure one for me.”
“Ah, well, I see,” Madison cleared his throat. “ Well, I’m terribly sorry, sir, but unfortunately, we don’t sell those here. I’m afraid you’ll have to go somewhere else. Might I recommend a mall?” The stranger’s eye twitched at that, and he pressed his lips into a thin line. Madison’s tone had been anything but sarcastic, and yet an edge of it had slipped out near the end, ah well, he could find a new job.
“Well, obviously,” he said venomously, “but I’m afraid the weather has constrained me indoors for the time being. I refuse to leave the premises unless my hair goes back to its original state, and unfortunately for both of us, the duration varies.” It was strange to hear such formality from a Southern accent. He was so used to hearing the cadence from Burr that it felt almost unnatural. Well, perhaps that explained it then. It made sense that he’d want to retain at least that.
Once again, the man snapped his fingers, and this time Madison felt slightly embarrassed that he’d accidentally drifted off again. He really hadn’t meant to, but it was getting harder and harder to focus. He was sure his brain was spouting nonsense in its fevered, addled state. He just hoped it wouldn’t get him into any kind of trouble that would prevent him from leaving soon.
The man seemed slightly perplexed at Madison’s apparent lack of reaction to the command but seemed to recover quickly. He pulled out a wad of cash and threw it onto the counter, not bothering to look back at Madison. Instead, he stepped toward one of the tables, pulled out a chair, and sat down, checking his nails, as if his very presence in the café might have dirtied them.
When Madison didn’t move, he finally looked up. “Are you deaf? If so, this money is practically a necessity. Go buy yourself a sonogram assistant with it. It seems you may be in desperate need.”
“No, sir. My hearing is perfectly average.”
“Like the rest of you I presume.” He stared down at Madison who was trying his level best not to sniffle.” If you’re not physically impaired I’ll have to assume some mental capacity of yours is lacking. So I’ll lay things out for you in simpler terms. Go and fetch me a hairdryer this instant, or I’ll have you sued for negligence.” Madison’s expression didn’t shift but his eyes sharpened ever so slightly.
“I’m afraid that may be challenging given the fact there are no laws that state a person is responsible for the wellbeing of others unless they a legal guardian, or they’re both married. I’m afraid we have no previous relationship so it would be a waste of money. As I’ve stated before sir, I’m unable to leave my post without reason so while I’m deeply sympathetic to your situation my hands are tied.” Madison could see the slow increase of rage at every word he spoke, the man had gone from irritated to furious in a matter of seconds which would have been impressive if it weren’t directed at him.
“You could always let your hair dry in your car.” Madison suggested, trying to appease him, which was evidently the worst thing he could have said.
“Let it dry?!” He was fuming now. “ by all evidence you haven’t been trained in customer service in the slightest, I suppose that’s why you’re working here isn’t it? I’ve never met someone as impolite, rude or insensitive to a suffering man in need of assistance. Just because your existence is mediocre doesn’t mean that you have to make mine worse. Perhaps you should spend a little more time on manners rather than whatever attempt at legal studies resulted in that informative little speech. I suppose you think yourself clever sweetheart well I’m afraid not.” he sniffed and turned away. “I should have you fired for that comment.”
Madison thought it best not to interject only half of the man’s tirade had registered and he needed enough energy to get through however long was left of his shift. Unfortunately it seemed that the man was far from finished. “I realize the concept may be foreign but I’m sure you realize leaving my hair wet would render the styling tomorrow far too time consuming which I can’t have unfortunately. I’m sure it’s easier when your hair is short.” He stared at Madison for a beat. “Perhaps you could use some type of product.” Madison chose to ignore the last comment, his hair was fine. Short and manageable and most importantly entirely underwhelming exactly how he liked it.
“My apologies sir, I didn’t intent to come off rude, you’re still free to order a drink any time if you must.” Madison said matter-of-factly. He was quite ready for this conversation to be over, given he was a few minutes away from keeling over.
“Well, I suppose I could let it slide if you went to fetch me a hairdryer.”
“I suppose I shouldn’t burden you with the redundancy of repeating myself again. We sell drinks here, the menu is right over there.” Madison stated, tossing the wad of money back to the man who caught it with a huff and stalked back over.
“This isn’t an offer that refuses itself, I’m shocked I even have to outline why this is beneficial in every way all you’d have to do. Is buy me a hairdryer it would only take a few minutes at best and I doubt anyone would have the time to rob the store in your absence. Now, my generosity is limited. I could be asking anyone else,“
please do, Madison could help but send out the silent plea.
It didn’t help.
“Do you even know who you’re talking to?” The man snapped.
Madison studied him; he was attractive, that was certain. Young, with dark skin and tightly coiled hair. A jawline that appeared refined rather than overtly masculine and facial hair shaped neatly into some version of a goatee, he had a straight nose and plush lips, that were currently pressed to look thinner than they were. He was anything but plain, which meant Madison had undoubtedly not seen him before, or he was sure to have remembered. He filed the face away anyway to avoid it in the future.
“No, I’m afraid I don’t.” But he was sure the man would enlighten him soon enough.
The man glared at him before grabbing his phone and furiously typing something into it. Madison briefly wondered if he’d somehow forgotten a famous figure before the man shoved the phone into his face. It was a news article about a man named Thomas Jefferson. Madison quickly skimmed it: Virginia House of Delegates, politician, diplomat, began his political career very early on, currently one of the most influential men in the South.
“Is that the name you would like me to write on your order?” Madison could help the small smirk that crept back onto his face at the man’s, Jefferson’s, outrage.
“I don’t want coffee! For the last time. I have an important meeting in the morning, and I won’t let the northern weather ruin my hair before it. I need to look presentable, though I can understand how you might not pay much importance to that.” He sneered. His eyes scanning over Madison’s face, which was undoubtedly pale with dark circles under his eyes, before glancing down at his uniform, which consisted of a sad grey apron and a shirt that had seen better days.
“Well, we are in fact closing in,” he checked the clock, ” twelve minutes, so I suggested you either order or leave.” Jefferson glared.
“I can’t presume why you find it difficult to comprehend that your job lies between my hands, but if you insist on being this temperamental, I’ll simply have to find somebody else to take care of my hairdryer situation.”
“Finally.” Madison muttered under his breath. His head was pounding into his skull, and he really couldn’t be bothered to deal with the man’s antics. Madison had expected him to leave then. He was sure he’d offended the man enough to never come back. Yet, Jefferson had sat down now entirely at ease, his temper having calmed. Madison didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t exactly kick the man out until they were officially closed, and that wasn’t for at least the next ten minutes. He’d just have to survive until then.
—————————
The man still hadn’t left, and they’d been there for at least thirty minutes. The shop was well past closed, and yet he’d remain despite Madison’s very best efforts to get rid of him. He’d simply remained seated, complaining. He’d also taken to addressing Madison with southern nicknames Madison was almost certain he used on his secretaries to appear charming; instead, it just came off as condescending, which Madison suspected was the purpose. He’d tried to angle his name tag towards him to no avail and had eventually given up; he was almost finished closing anyway.
“I can’t believe I’m stuck in this godforsaken city. Everything about New York is abysmal at best and utterly terrible at worst. I’ve barely been here a day, and at least three different fans asked for my autograph. Of course, I was generous enough to give it to them. I do value good taste.” He smirked at Madison. “Which I now see not all of us were blessed with.”
Madison was only half listening. He was instead watching the cold drops of rain clattering against the windows of the café, wondering if he had enough to buy an umbrella. Maybe his tips for the day could be used if he waited to buy another pack of cold pills in two days instead of one.
“—Hey, darlin,” Madison redirected his gaze towards the man who was waving his hand to draw his attention. ”The least you could do is acknowledge me when I’m talking to you. It’s like you don’t even care how hard my day’s been.” He huffed, checking his phone. “Oh, good, they’re here.”
Suddenly, the bell chimed again, and a man in a black suit came in carrying a box, long and rectangular. For the first time all night, Madison’s stare faltered.
“You ordered a hairdryer to be delivered here?!” Jefferson ignored him, gesturing for the man to bring it over. He unwrapped the package, casting away the cardboard which Madison picked up and threw away. Jefferson plugged it in, regulating the settings before beginning to blow-dry his hair in the middle of the room. The noise pounded against his skull as Madison grit his teeth and stalked over to Jefferson, snatching the plugged cord out of the wall and effectively stopping the hairdryer, which whirled for a few more seconds before coming to a halt.
“Using the café’s plugs for anything other than charging a device is prohibited.” He pointed towards the small sign next to the plug. “We’ve been closed for over twenty minutes. I’m going to have to kindly ask you to leave now, sir. Unless you’d prefer to be locked inside, but I’m warning you. I only come in at seven, so you’ll be alone for the next five hours.” With that, Madison began walking toward the door, which chimed when he opened it. He glanced back towards Jefferson, who was staring at him. “Well, go on then, I’ve even held the door for you.” Jefferson made no move to exit, but Madison really couldn’t care at the moment. His head hurt, and his limbs hurt, and he desperately wanted to sleep. So he stood at the door, leaning on it more than he cared to admit. Finally, after two minutes, Jefferson got up and walked outside. Madison couldn’t help the sigh of relief.
He was about to close the door when he spotted something left behind on the table which Jefferson had been sitting in.
“You forgot your hairdryer,” Madison called after him. But the man didn’t turn back. Madison groaned and grabbed it. With his luck, the man would be filing a lawsuit for stolen property, and he’d be out of even more money. The streets were vacant apart from the sleek black car parked thirty steps away. Madison could feel the rain pouring down onto him and suppressed a shiver. He arrived in front of the car and knocked on the window a couple of times.
It finally lowered.
“Finally come to your senses, sweetheart?” As soon as Madison produced the hairdryer, Jefferson’s expression shifted.
“You left it, and after all the trouble I thought you might want to keep it.” Jefferson waved the hairdryer away.
“I have no need for it. You’re free to keep it or throw it away. I’d use it if I were you, though. Your hair is going to be a mess tomorrow morning if you stay out in the rain,” he eyed Madison. “You’d better get back inside before you fall ill.” There was something in his tone Madison couldn’t quite place, as if the fact Madison had come back simply to give him the hairdryer back was so inconceivable to him it merited apprehension.
“I think we’re past that,” Madison said bitterly, more to himself than to the man in the car.
Jefferson hummed, still eyeing him strangely. “You’re rather unusual. Though I’m sure a more fitting word would be disagreeable.” He didn’t say anything else before the windows rolled back up, and the car sped off into the distance. Leaving