15. Boston Ruins Everything

Chapter fifteen

Boston Ruins Everything

By the time Thursday rolled around, Oliver was a bundle of nerves wrapped in barbed wire. He'd spoken with Liel every night leading up to their date, and while—much to Gem's dismay—they had not had phone sex, there had been flirting. There had been tension. There had been electricity, and not just because Liel could generate static shock at will.

Which meant things could happen during or after their date. Not that it was expected. Oliver would never put that kind of presumption on a potential lover, but he'd be lying if he said there wasn't anticipation bubbling in his gut as he worked, counting down the minutes as they dragged by.

He had swapped shifts with Gem so he could work until five, that way he wouldn't need to kill numerous hours in Purgatory before meeting Liel at Gluttony station at six. When Gem and Rusty had left half an hour ago, they'd both wished him luck.

Well, Rusty had patted him encouragingly on the shoulder. Gem had hugged him and given him a very long speech about safe sex and consensual kink etiquette. Then he'd kissed him on the cheek and said, "I hope he fucks your brains out until your balls shrivel up from overuse."

"Thanks, Gem," Oliver had said, both grateful for the support and absolutely mortified at his word choices. It was a common combination of emotions for Oliver when it came to Gem.

It was a little past three and Oliver was manning the front alone. Zef had recently clocked out, leaving Toni to cover the kitchen by himself, and every now and then, Oliver could hear the clack and crash of dishes as Tad finished cleaning up after the lunch rush.

According to Gem, the hours of three-to-five were slow, so he wasn't too worried about covering the front with only Toni as back-up. Toni had assured him that he knew enough about the register to be dangerous, so if they got a sudden rush, he'd come up to help.

So far, the cafe had been pretty quiet, so Oliver restocked the dairy fridge under the espresso machine and made notes on what was running low for the next supply order. The door chimed, and Oliver rose from his crouch and wiped his hands on a towel as he turned to greet the customer.

Except the customer was Liel.

"Hi," Oliver said with a grin, though it faded when he caught sight of the suitcase in Liel's grasp, and the demon grimaced apologetically. "Oh."

Rounding the bakery case, he met Liel halfway.

"Boston?" he asked.

Liel sighed. "Boston."

"Damn."

"Indeed. I'm so sorry, Oliver."

Oliver reached out and tentatively touched a fingertip to the back of Liel's hand. Liel immediately grasped Oliver's hand firmly in his.

"I told you before, you don't have to apologize for your job. We knew this could happen."

"Still," Liel said miserably, "I would much rather be seeing you tonight than the stupid Boston skyline."

Stepping closer, Oliver secured his grip on Liel's hand, loving the way that static charge made the hairs on his arm stand on end. "Well, you can still see me, technically. If you have time after you're checked in to your hotel, you can call me and show off your swanky room and fancy room service food."

"I'm going to order the most expensive thing on the menu," he declared with a shake of his kelp-like hair. "It's on the business's dime."

"Petty and bougie," Oliver teased. "I like it."

Liel's smile faltered. "I am sorry."

"Yeah, me too." Oliver squeezed his hand. "But it's okay. I'll take you out for that drink when you get back. Okay?"

"You promise?" Liel tilted his head, and Oliver had to fight the urge to eliminate the small height difference and kiss him.

"I promise."

"Okay." He glanced at the clock and grimaced. "I need to catch my train to New York. Then another train to Boston."

With a nod, Oliver added some distance between them, though he kept a hold of Liel's hand. "Do you know how long you'll be gone?"

He shook his head. "I'm hopeful I can have it wrapped up by next weekend. But I won't know for sure until I actually meet with the idiots."

"Alright. Well, I'll be around."

"I'll call you from my swanky hotel," he said with a wink, and Oliver chuckled.

"I'll hold you to it."

Liel's gaze dropped to Oliver's mouth, and he captured his bottom lip with his sharp teeth. The air between them popped, and a stronger current of lightning crackled between their still clasped palms. It traveled up Oliver's arm and settled in his chest.

For a moment, they both leaned forward, moving at the same time to close the distance, but the cafe door opened with a startling chime , shattering the static tension. Oliver greeted the customer as Liel cleared his throat, shuffling back another inch.

"I'll talk to you tonight," he said with one last squeeze to Oliver's hand.

"Okay, safe trip. Let me know when you get there." Oliver squeezed back, then they released each other simultaneously.

With a parting, apologetic smile, Liel turned and headed back the way he'd come, suitcase wheels clicking against the floor. Oliver watched him until the door shut behind him before he released a resigned, disappointed breath and returned to his spot behind the counter.

"He cancel on you?" Toni asked from his spot in the kitchen doorway, hands splayed on the doors.

"Not because he wanted to," Oliver said, a hint of flint in his tone. "His job—"

"It's always something." He brushed bread crumbs from his forearm fin. "He covers his accent, you know?"

Fighting for patience, Oliver tried to keep the bite from his voice as he said, "What?"

"Your new beau. He's from Gluttony, right? So am I. He don't talk like me. He covers it." Toni grinned smugly, like he'd just cracked the case.

"So?" Oliver challenged.

"You sure you wanna be with someone who's ashamed of where they come from?" he asked.

"You know what, Toni? Sometimes, you can be a real asshole," Oliver snapped, and Toni raised his hands in surrender.

"I'm just saying—"

"You don't know him!"

"Neither do you," Toni shot back, and Oliver… had nothing to say. Because he wasn't exactly wrong, was he? Three nights of video calls wasn't enough to know someone.

Toni sighed and ran a hand through his hair, that stubborn curl at the front falling over his forehead. "Sorry, Ollie. I just… We look out for each other here, okay? We're a bunch of misfit losers. If we don't have each other's backs, who else can we lean on?"

"Like you have Rusty's back?" Oliver said before he could stop it, and Toni stiffened.

"Just 'cause the kid's an asshole doesn't mean I don't have his back," he said after a moment of deliberation.

Without responding, Oliver focused on the customer and took their order. Toni swaggered past him, hopping up onto the back counter, long legs dangling. He hummed under his breath as he pulled out his phone.

"Don't you have work to do?" Oliver asked.

"Nope," Toni said with a smirk.

"Dick," Oliver muttered, making Toni chuckle.

"This is literally how Gem and I spend the end of our shifts."

As Oliver made the customer's latte, he said, "You two grew up together, right?"

"More or less," Toni said. "I got into some trouble at school, so I ended up doing most of my education in Lust. Met Gemmy, and the rest is history."

"Best friends forever," Oliver teased.

Toni just grinned, large shark teeth gleaming. "He's my boy."

"I'm surprised you didn't corrupt him more."

"Psh," he blew a noisy raspberry. "He corrupted me. I was a good boy before I met that bitch."

Oliver handed the finished drink to the customer before turning around and crossing his arms over his chest. "You just said you got expelled from school in Gluttony."

"I was mostly a good boy," Toni amended.

"You're so full of shit."

Toni laughed, black tongue sliding over his teeth. "Okay, okay. You got me. I was already pretty far gone when Gemmy found me. He whipped me into shape. Saved my ass more times than I can count."

Oliver wouldn't have been here if it hadn't been for Gem, so it felt right to say, "Gem's good at saving people."

"Yeah, he is. Just ain't so good at saving himself." Toni spoke the last part in a whisper, like he was talking more to himself than to Oliver. Shaking off the ominous statement a moment later, he picked at a loose thread at the knee of his jeans. "But yeah, if you ever need dirt on Gem, I'm your guy."

"You're the guy for everything, it would seem."

Splaying his arms, he shrugged. "What can I say? I know people. I got connections. You need something, come to Toni, baby."

"And what happens if I can't repay the favor? Am I gonna wake up with a horse head in my bed?" Oliver asked, and Toni grimaced.

"Who puts horse heads in people's beds? That's fucked up, man."

With a laugh, Oliver shook his head. "It's from a movie. Never mind. I forget that we grew up with different pop culture references."

"Hmm, yeah. I bet the two-headed blue dragon means nothing to you, does it?"

"Nope."

"You need an education, Ollie. But that's okay. I got you covered."

"Yeah, you got a guy for that too?"

Toni's responding chuckle was dark and dangerous. "Baby, I got a guy for everything."

When Oliver headed out a little after five, he left Toni in the kitchen, singing to a demon soft rock song. He knocked Toni's arm in farewell, and the demon nodded, waving a hand.

"Hey, Ollie," Toni called as Oliver pushed the back door open.

"Yeah?"

Leaning against the corner of the wall, Toni said, "Sorry your man had to cancel."

"Thanks, Toni. He's not my man, but thanks."

"Not your man yet." He pointed a finger at Oliver. "Positive thinking. Manifestation, baby."

"I thought all Greed guys are assholes?"

"Maybe I'm wrong." Toni shrugged, then his smile softened with sincerity. "I mean it, though. I'm sorry. I know you were looking forward to… I dunno, getting tentacle-fucked or whatever."

Oliver snorted. "Wow, is anyone gonna explain the tentacles? Because, Jesus Christ, it's all you people can talk about."

"Look up Gymnot porn, and then we can have a conversation." At Oliver's half-horrified, half-intrigued expression, Toni waggled his indigo brows. "You have yourself a good night, Ollie."

"You too, Toni," Oliver said, mind already racing a mile a minute.

Oliver did not look up Gymnot porn. He was tempted, but he resisted. It felt… wrong, somehow. Creepy in a way that left a bad aftertaste on Oliver's tongue.

When Liel finally called, Oliver was already in bed, but he answered on the second ring. Tired, yellow eyes filled his vision, and Oliver smiled.

"Hey."

"Hi."

"I didn't think you'd call tonight since you're an hour later than me now," Oliver said, and Liel furrowed his cartilage brow.

"An hour later? Oh, right, there are different time zones here. That's always an adjustment."

"Must be nice having all of Hell in the same time zone."

Liel nodded. "I suppose. But I'm an hour ahead of you now? Okay, I'll have to remember that."

"How was the trip?" Oliver asked as he settled back onto his pillow.

"Long. But I got some work done on the train, and you'll be happy to hear that I had dinner," Liel said proudly.

"Oh, I thought you were going to get the most expensive thing on the room service menu?"

Setting his phone on a side table, giving Oliver a view of the bed and part of the hotel room, Liel said, "I was, but then I remembered hot dogs."

That was something Oliver had not expected. "Hot dogs?"

"Yes, I tried a hot dog on my first trip to the human dimension, and it was so delicious. So every time I'm here, I scour whatever city I'm in for new hot dog places." With a grunt, Liel hoisted his suitcase onto the bed and unzipped it. "I had a chili dog once, which was delicious. I had a salsa dog, which I did not like as much. And the last time I was in New York, I had a jammy dog."

"What is a jammy dog?"

As Liel pulled out numerous garment bags, he sent Oliver a quizzical look. "You know, jammy. A hot dog with jammy on it. I thought it was a strange combination, but it didn't taste too bad."

Oliver chuckled. "Liel, what is jammy?"

This time, his frown was coupled with a dubious smile. "Um, jammy? What you humans eat on toast. Made from fruit. Jilly and jammy? Do not judge me, but I don't actually know the difference between the two."

"You mean jam? Jelly and jam?" Oliver laughed.

Liel blinked. "What did I say?"

"I mean, pretty much that."

"Then why are you laughing?" Liel shrugged off his suit jacket and loosened his tie.

"No reason at all. Please, tell me all about the hot dog with jammy on it."

Narrowing his eyes, Liel slowly pulled off his tie and dropped it to the bed. "You're mocking me."

"And you're adorable," Oliver said, and Liel blushed, cheeks darkening to a muddy brown. "But you're right. I'm very proud of you for having dinner."

Liel's throat bobbed, eyes flashing. "Well, I live to please," he finally said, voice unsteady.

Slowly, he reached up to unbutton the top two buttons of his shirt, and it was Oliver's turn to swallow thickly. "What kind of hot dog did you eat this time?"

"A normal one, with onion, ketchup, and that yellow sauce. Mustard, right?"

Oliver nodded. "Classic."

Liel hummed and continued unpacking his suitcase. It was almost exclusively garment bags holding his suits and dress shirts.

"Do you even own normal clothes?"

"These are normal clothes."

"You know what I mean."

Liel changed the angle of his phone, facing it toward the open closet space where he proceeded to hang up his suits and dress shirt. "I own a few t-shirts, and several polos, if that's what you mean." On his next pass, he leaned in close to the phone and dropped his voice to a whisper. "I even own a pair of shorts if you can believe it."

Oliver gasped dramatically. "Mr. Gymnot, have you no shame?"

"Karakis," Liel said.

"Huh?"

"My last name," he corrected. "It's Karakis."

"Liel Karakis." Oliver tasted the full name on his tongue for the first time. "I like it. Much more interesting than Oliver Barnes."

"Barnes is nice." Liel draped his ties over several hangers. "Do you have a middle name? I hear that is normal in some human cultures."

Turning onto his side, Oliver brought his sheet up and over his shoulder as he propped his phone against his water glass on the side table. He tucked both hands under his head as he watched Liel inspect his dress shirts, smoothing out any wrinkles he found.

"Greggory," he admitted. "After my dad."

"Oliver Greggory Barnes," Liel mused. "A bit of a mouthful, if I'm being honest."

"Asshole," he accused, making Liel laugh. "Do you have a middle name?"

Liel shook his head. "It's not really a thing in my species. I'm just Liel."

"Just Liel," Oliver echoed. "I like it."

With his business clothes hung nicely, Liel returned the phone to its original position facing the bed and the open suitcase. "Now, Mr. Barnes, you must look away," Liel said haughtily. "I'm about to unpack my unmentionables."

"Is this Step Two of your fervent pursuit? Seducing me with your underwear?"

Liel pressed a hand to his chest with theatrical flair. "I would never! What kind of man do you take me for?" He produced a pair of dark, tight shorts with a flourish. "My underwear is very boring, so I don't think it's effective seduction material."

"Boring underwear, suits and ties, and only one pair of shorts," Oliver tsked. "And I thought you'd be interesting."

"You insult me, Mr. Barnes!"

Oliver's cheeks ached from smiling, but he couldn't stop. "I have fun underwear, very immature and childish."

"Oh? So it's always a party in your pants?" Liel wriggled his brow cartilage.

"Yes, but it's VIP only."

Liel's shoulders shook with his laughter. "No open door policy?"

"Nope, invite only." Oliver hid his burning face in his pillow as Liel guffawed at the ceiling.

"That's very good to know. I'll be sure to await a formal invitation," he finally said as he lowered his suitcase to the floor.

"You gonna show me your sweet digs now?"

Liel loped over to his phone and picked it up. "An official tour of room three-two-eight." He flipped the camera, starting at the door to the room and sweeping around to give the full image. "We have a desk with the Mariott letterhead."

"For all the letters you'll be writing," Oliver chimed.

"Exactly. Very thoughtful of them. We have a bed much too large for just me; hopefully I don't get lost in it. And the bathroom." With a cute smile, Liel waved at his reflection in the mirror, and Oliver waved back. "And finally, the view."

Drawing back the curtains, Liel panned over the bright city lights of Boston filling the night with pollution and blotting out the stars.

"Very bougie, Mr. Karakis."

With a flip of the camera, Liel wrinkled his face. "Oh, I don't think I like that. No."

"Just Liel?" Oliver asked.

He nodded. "Please and thank you, Mr. Barnes."

"I, uh—" Oliver cleared his throat. "I think I do like that."

"Noted," Liel practically purred.

The camera blurred as Liel fell back on the bed, his thick hair spreading over the white comforter, one arm above his head. He smiled up at the camera, and Oliver snuggled deeper into his pillow, the light of his phone the only illumination on his face.

"You look comfortable," Liel said.

"I am."

He opened his mouth to say something else, but a phone rang, cutting off whatever Liel was going to say. With a frown, he crawled over the bed and looked at something off camera.

"Work phone. It's the boss." He offered Oliver an apologetic smile. "I gotta take this."

"Okay, don't stay up too late. Get some sleep."

Yellow eyes sparkling, Liel said, "Yes, sir, Mr. Barnes."

Oliver snorted. "Goodnight, Liel."

"Goodnight, Oliver. Sleep well."

After one last wink, the call ended, and Oliver locked his screen, plunging his room into darkness. He closed his eyes, stretching his jaw to alleviate the soreness in his cheeks from grinning. Even with the ache, when he fell asleep, his lips remained tipped in a subtle smile.