Fair Trade and Mobius by esteefee (NC-17)
Jun. 7th, 2009 10:43 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
danceswithgary posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
stargateficrecRec Category: Sheppard/McKay
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay
Category: AU, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Warning: Slash
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
esteefee
Author's Website: http://esteefee.com
Link: Fair Trade and Mobius
Why This Must Be Read:
John as a small-business owner seems to be a natural fit in AU's; in them he's independent, answers only to himself, is in control of his life. The twist in this one (without revealing too much of the plot) is that John truly needs the help of other people, despite his stubborn insistence on being self-reliant. Enter the whirlwind otherwise known as Rodney, and John's life is changed forever. The details surrounding the running of John's coffee shop, as well as his personal daily struggle, add to the overall richness of this AU.
With a very few exceptions, I prefer stories where John and Rodney are presented as equals in their relationship, caring for each other without either being weak/submissive or where I'm risking sugar shock. I like plenty of snark to balance the sweet. This series handles that preference quite nicely and, at a little over 50,000 words, is a nice long read as a bonus.
Excerpt:
"Hey, boss," Zeke drawled, the ever-present toothpick hanging from the corner of his mouth. "Here's where we're at: we've got some Kona just starting to pale in the Loring."
John nodded and went to the sink to wash his hands. "Sounds like Little Nemo is in First Crack."
"Yeah. That's the Sumatra. Don't fuck it up or that crazy professor will give you all sorts of shit. He knows his bean."
Frowning, John dried off his hands. "What crazy professor?"
"Some guy, he lectures us about everything. He moved into the neighborhood a couple of days ago and has practically been living in the café. The latest Customer Zero." Zeke tapped the whiteboard. "So, I wrote up the next loads but, you know, if you want to change anything—"
"You know I trust your nose, Zeke."
"Yeah, yeah." Zeke ducked his head and waved a hand. "Okay, I'm out of here."
"Cool. Have a good one."
Zeke took off, and John went over to check on the Kona. The Loring roaster was a sweet machine, all digital, environmentally-friendly—it practically took care of itself. John wished he could afford to replace the older machines, but his retirement pension had only gone so far, in spite of the build up of all his combat pay, and his V.A. comp.
The hip wasn't so bad today, he thought as stretched up to hit the handle and dump some Venezuelan Arabica into the hopper. He screened the beans and ran his gloved fingers over them, relishing their heavy coolness. After he'd screened out all the debris he dumped the hopper into roaster four, which Zeke had nick-named "Simba." Zeke had named all the roasters after Disney characters. John let him get away with it, all except for the Loring, which John liked to call the Delorean.
After starting the roast, he went out front, where Sandi was busy cleaning the counter.
"Mornin'," he mumbled. Sandi was so damned young and fresh-faced, he always felt like an old dog around her because he couldn't help noticing how pretty she was, even with the pink hair.
"Good morning, boss. Looks like you could use a good cup." Sandi pulled down John's personal mug, the big twenty-ouncer, and filled it to the top before handing it to him.
"Thanks. You're the best." John took a big sip. The nicely toasted flavor washed over his tongue. A good roast.
"Just remember that come bonus time," Sandi said, winking to show she was kidding.
John gave her a smirk then grabbed a section of the paper that was lying on one of the tables and went to sit in his favorite corner. The afternoon sun was just catching in an oblique triangle that cut across the thickly padded seat. It was a little embarrassing, so John hoped no one had noticed he'd brought in a special cushion for the corner bench, plush enough to ease his aching hip and leg. The warm sun helped, too, which was another reason why John usually sat here when he wasn't in the back tending to the roasting.
A cranky voice interrupted his perusal of the crossword puzzle. "You're in my seat."
"Come again?" John said automatically, raising his eyes to see a balding guy with bright blue eyes and a slanted mouth. He was holding one of their extra-large, ceramic cups in his right hand.
"I was sitting there. I only just left for a few minutes. And since you're wearing an apron, I assume you are part of the 'hired help.' Which means, as I am the 'valued customer' in this scenario, I'd appreciate it if you would choose somewhere else to be." Cranky Guy snapped his fingers. "Here's an idea—how about somewhere behind the counter, working, perhaps?"
Jesus, the cojones on this guy. John suspected he'd just met the new Customer Zero.
"I'm on my break," John said, dry as he could make it, putting a little undertone of fuck off in there for good measure. "Take it up with the management." He took a slow sip of his coffee and watched Zero's eyes widen with outrage.
"Oh, don't think I won't, you rooster-haired, wanna-be bohemian, you."
John snorted back a laugh. No one had ever called him a bohemian before. He kind of liked it.
...
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay
Category: AU, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Warning: Slash
Author on LJ:
esteefeeAuthor's Website: http://esteefee.com
Link: Fair Trade and Mobius
Why This Must Be Read:
John as a small-business owner seems to be a natural fit in AU's; in them he's independent, answers only to himself, is in control of his life. The twist in this one (without revealing too much of the plot) is that John truly needs the help of other people, despite his stubborn insistence on being self-reliant. Enter the whirlwind otherwise known as Rodney, and John's life is changed forever. The details surrounding the running of John's coffee shop, as well as his personal daily struggle, add to the overall richness of this AU.
With a very few exceptions, I prefer stories where John and Rodney are presented as equals in their relationship, caring for each other without either being weak/submissive or where I'm risking sugar shock. I like plenty of snark to balance the sweet. This series handles that preference quite nicely and, at a little over 50,000 words, is a nice long read as a bonus.
Excerpt:
"Hey, boss," Zeke drawled, the ever-present toothpick hanging from the corner of his mouth. "Here's where we're at: we've got some Kona just starting to pale in the Loring."
John nodded and went to the sink to wash his hands. "Sounds like Little Nemo is in First Crack."
"Yeah. That's the Sumatra. Don't fuck it up or that crazy professor will give you all sorts of shit. He knows his bean."
Frowning, John dried off his hands. "What crazy professor?"
"Some guy, he lectures us about everything. He moved into the neighborhood a couple of days ago and has practically been living in the café. The latest Customer Zero." Zeke tapped the whiteboard. "So, I wrote up the next loads but, you know, if you want to change anything—"
"You know I trust your nose, Zeke."
"Yeah, yeah." Zeke ducked his head and waved a hand. "Okay, I'm out of here."
"Cool. Have a good one."
Zeke took off, and John went over to check on the Kona. The Loring roaster was a sweet machine, all digital, environmentally-friendly—it practically took care of itself. John wished he could afford to replace the older machines, but his retirement pension had only gone so far, in spite of the build up of all his combat pay, and his V.A. comp.
The hip wasn't so bad today, he thought as stretched up to hit the handle and dump some Venezuelan Arabica into the hopper. He screened the beans and ran his gloved fingers over them, relishing their heavy coolness. After he'd screened out all the debris he dumped the hopper into roaster four, which Zeke had nick-named "Simba." Zeke had named all the roasters after Disney characters. John let him get away with it, all except for the Loring, which John liked to call the Delorean.
After starting the roast, he went out front, where Sandi was busy cleaning the counter.
"Mornin'," he mumbled. Sandi was so damned young and fresh-faced, he always felt like an old dog around her because he couldn't help noticing how pretty she was, even with the pink hair.
"Good morning, boss. Looks like you could use a good cup." Sandi pulled down John's personal mug, the big twenty-ouncer, and filled it to the top before handing it to him.
"Thanks. You're the best." John took a big sip. The nicely toasted flavor washed over his tongue. A good roast.
"Just remember that come bonus time," Sandi said, winking to show she was kidding.
John gave her a smirk then grabbed a section of the paper that was lying on one of the tables and went to sit in his favorite corner. The afternoon sun was just catching in an oblique triangle that cut across the thickly padded seat. It was a little embarrassing, so John hoped no one had noticed he'd brought in a special cushion for the corner bench, plush enough to ease his aching hip and leg. The warm sun helped, too, which was another reason why John usually sat here when he wasn't in the back tending to the roasting.
A cranky voice interrupted his perusal of the crossword puzzle. "You're in my seat."
"Come again?" John said automatically, raising his eyes to see a balding guy with bright blue eyes and a slanted mouth. He was holding one of their extra-large, ceramic cups in his right hand.
"I was sitting there. I only just left for a few minutes. And since you're wearing an apron, I assume you are part of the 'hired help.' Which means, as I am the 'valued customer' in this scenario, I'd appreciate it if you would choose somewhere else to be." Cranky Guy snapped his fingers. "Here's an idea—how about somewhere behind the counter, working, perhaps?"
Jesus, the cojones on this guy. John suspected he'd just met the new Customer Zero.
"I'm on my break," John said, dry as he could make it, putting a little undertone of fuck off in there for good measure. "Take it up with the management." He took a slow sip of his coffee and watched Zero's eyes widen with outrage.
"Oh, don't think I won't, you rooster-haired, wanna-be bohemian, you."
John snorted back a laugh. No one had ever called him a bohemian before. He kind of liked it.
...
