sushi4427

Benji didn’t care that his car radio was still fried; it’d been that way for years, the result of a Buick cutting him off at an intersection and the subsequent cursing, and he was used to listening to the sounds of the city instead of music. But it was moments like these, sitting on his car on a hot Summer day with nothing but the shade of a tree to cool him off, that he wondered why the heck he hadn’t replaced the AC. It’d been years since he discovered the trick to controlling his powers, he wouldn’t have to worry about breaking it every time he barely missed a light anymore. Well, at least it meant saving on gas money on stake-outs like this, where his dad was half an hour later than he was supposed to be. His phone rang just in time for him to stop dozing off in the heat. God, he thought as he picked it up, he couldn’t wait for fall. Bring on the pumpkins and smoky forests and—oh, it was Leah calling. “Hey,” Benji said, shifting in his seat as he kept is eyes on the spot his

“Again?” Beau asked as he stepped into the store, his eyes immediately going to one of the far tables. Nick and Kenton were hunched over it and, when Beau spoke, wore matching expressions of a dogs caught in a puddle of their own piss. “Relax, man,” Nick said. “It’s not like you’re a witness or anything.” “I am.” Mr. Hozier’s incompetent nephew had grabbed his jacket as soon as Beau was visible through the window, and was now rushing past him out the door. “Later.” Kenton worriedly watched him go. “Should we-“ “No,” Beau replied, grabbing an apron from the hook. “Did he get you your truffles?” “Yep,” Kenton replied, pleased. They all turned to the door as the bell jingled. “Oh, cool.” Julian approached the counter, grinning when he saw Beau was there. “The last time I was here there was some kid behind the register. Took him three tries to get me the right thing, even though I told him I wanted the cinnamon roll ones.” “No way,” Kenton laughed, getting up. “Julian?” The other

If Kenton thought he was being sneaky, he was failing miserably. Beau could hear him from behind the counter, and though he couldn’t make out exact words, he had a pretty good guess as to what was going on. It wouldn’t be the first time Kenton peddled his goods outside the chocolate shop. And just like the previous times, he strutted in afterwards, proud of himself and ready to splurge with some of his newly acquired wealth. This time, though, Beau got a surprise from who joined him. “Hey.” Nick was still wearing the sweatshirt, just as wrinkled as before, but he no longer seemed to bother with the hood. “Can I get three of those peanut butter things?” “Sure thing.” Beau grabbed the spoon and opened the display case. The cool air felt good during such a warm day. “How many truffles do you want, Kenton?” “I’ll take three as well,” he replied, already counting out the bills. Beau finished bagging Nick’s and passed them over. “Did your coach say you were allowed some

With his back to the door, Sir Walter at first thought that an especially strong wind had blown it open, sending snow spiraling into his back and a chill up his spine. But the very human curse that came afterwards, as well as the hurried slam of the door, let him know that it was simply his butler returning. “Did you get it done?” Walter asked, not turning around as he shifted through some documents. The snow was melting on his back and dampening his shirt. “What do you pay me for, sir?” Jack stepped into view as he rubbed his hands together and stomped out his boots. As much as Walter liked the butler garb, it was wholly inappropriate for the weather, and the task Jack had just finished. Though the idea of a mystery butler having to do with the disappearance of Europe’s heirs was… delicious. “I’m happy to see you getting used to the cold,” Walter said, pulling one document away from the others and moving towards his office. Jack shed his wet boots and coat, then followed.

Sir Walter never used to pay attention to the news. Journalists were just a bunch of commoner miscreants playing at power by twisting the facts. “The search for the missing princes is continuing today, with disturbing evidence linking their disappearance to a known criminal organization based in the mediterranean…” But recently, they were right. Right where he wanted them to be. “The affected royal families have been quick to label the group a terrorist organization as a result of the kidnappings, but governments have encouraged further investigation and restraint with such characterizations…” They weren’t actually right, of course, but they were working with the facts he gave them. Finding that hitman’s DNA and planting it on a teacup—cheeky bastard—had been potentially the most important part of his last plan. The eyes of the world were on the Mediterranean now, instead of a dilapidated castle in central Europe. There were plenty of those, anyway. Even if the authorities what

Mr. Hozier’s incompetent nephew was working a morning shift, which was both good and bad news. It meant Beau would be able to both get paid and sleep in, a rare combination. But it also meant he’d undoubtedly be cleaning up whatever mess the kid left in terms of the register. And chocolate. And everything. So Beau was pretty conflicted when he walked into the chocolate shop, but the sight that greeted him made him lean towards positive. Ollie and Kenton were at a table together, talking excitedly about... something. He wiped his hands on his pants and caught a bit of their conversation before they noticed him. “Wait, you really want to come?” Ollie asked, eyes wide. “Of course, dude, it sounds sick! I don’t really do classical stuff but if—oh, hey man!” There it was. Beau smiled as he turned to them, reaching over the counter and grabbing his apron. “When did you two become friends?” he asked, securing it around his waist. “Just now,” Kenton replied. “By the way, I’ll

It took Mateo a moment to realize why his conscious captive didn’t close his eyes against the sudden light after the trunk opened. Oh, right. He was blind. The man debated for a second before pulling his other catch from the trunk, letting Cassidy squirm around. Nico was doing no such thing; the drug Mateo had injected him with was doing its job. He had been reluctant to use it on him—how he loved watching the young detective squirm—but knocking out the seeing captive seemed like a safer bet. For instance, if Nico were awake, he’d be able to see that they were in a garage of some sort, and that there were a few sharp tools nearby, and he would’ve fruitlessly tried to wiggle over there and snag one. It would’ve been cute, but troublesome. Cassidy, meanwhile, could still struggle, but he’d be none the wiser to his surroundings. And Mateo was beginning to like Cassidy’s struggling. It was more methodical than Nico’s, but just as fruitless, which made it adorable. The young

Kenton was being far too quiet as he stared, almost unblinking, out the window. His fingers tap, tap, tapped against the table, thrumming a song that Beau didn’t know, perhaps one that only existed in his friend’s head. Usually, his presence filled the store with noise, but that afternoon Beau might as well have been by himself. He gathered a few treats and peeked into the kitchen, where Mr. Hozier was working on another chocolate Eiffel Tower. The other had melted when the sun shone on it. “Here.” He slid the goodies across the counter, catching Kenton’s eye. “You can go out back and smoke if you want. You won’t get caught.” “You sure?” “Yeah. It’s on me.” “... Thanks, dude.” Kenton stood and took the treats, glancing towards the kitchen once before rushing towards the backdoor. Beau watched it swing shut, jumping when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He looked out the windows, but the sidewalks were empty, so he answered. “Hello?” “Mr. Morales.” Beau tensed

Ten minutes. Ten minutes and Beau would be able to leave for half an hour while Mr. Hozier awkwardly manned the front of the store. He’d been craving a sandwich packed with hummus and carrots; Tulip’s assertion that all his veggies ended up on the floor came to mind, and he couldn’t help but smile. He was jolted out of his thoughts by the bell above the door ringing, and Beau hurried to stand straighter. The person walking towards the counter made him tense up; they had their hood pulled over their head and were glancing over their shoulder. Beau instinctively took a step back until the customer got closer and he saw who it was. Nick, that guy who’d come in with his friends the other day. “Hey,” he said, keeping his voice down. “Why are you acting like that?” Beau asked, crossing his arms. Hunger was making him a bit more confrontational than usual. “Like what?” “You’re acting shady.” “I just don’t want anyone to know I’m here, okay? Can I get a few of those

It was almost impossible to see the street outside through the rain, which painted the storefront windows with their own clear, refractive colors. Beau didn’t mind; Mr. Hozier was absorbed enough in making chocolate cups for an event that night that he didn’t notice the constantly disappearing s’mores truffles. That, or he didn’t mind. Either way, Beau had eaten far too many, to the point where his stomach was starting to hurt. He’d put money in the register later, but for now, the sneaking and stomachache was worth it to him. Ever since he’d gotten back from the hospital, the salt and chocolate and marshmallow had made him feel sleepy and peaceful and comforted. It was delicious. It helped him forget. Or, at the very least, it made that empty week in his life feel a bit more filled. Beau was startled out of is reverie as the bell chimed, signaling that a customer had arrived. He stuffed the rest of the truffle in his mouth as he looked over. Whoever had come in was