Chapter Text
It was the Fourth Of July, and Houston was ready to commit murder.
"Angel, for the love of everything that is holy, turn that fucking crap off. Please."
He could hear the woman or in his mind monstrous child, giggling next to him in the car. She was holding up her phone, which was blasting an all too familiar song.
"D-D-Donacdum, D D-Donacdum. D-D-D-Donacdum. D-D-Donac..."
"But Hous, some loving fan made this for you. Now you have to play it the next heist. I promise, everyone will have a good laugh."
Glaring at the brunette through his sunglasses, Houston gripped the steering wheel of the car tighter. All he wanted was to have a good Fourth Of July, and then Angel had to go and dig up the one thing he hated most.
"Angel, please. I'm begging you now. Don't mention that shit to the other guys, especially Hoxton. That asshole wouldn't shut up for weeks about it. Think he's even got it as his ringtone, now."
Sighing in frustration, Angel nodded, quickly tapping her thumbs against the screen before pocketing her phone. She sat up straighter in the car, her stature making her too short to see over the dashboard when she wasn't sitting correctly.
"Honestly, I'm surprised somebody hasn't done a fuckin' Kids Bop remix of my height. Why the hell do dashboards have to be so high?"
"They're not high, Angel. You're just short."
Houston could feel a sharp hit against his shoulder as he laughed, Angel, flipping him off before they pulled into the parking lot of their destination.
"I don't know why you like coming to this café, Ang, it's practically falling apart," Houston complained to his companion. She scoffed, pushing past him to get to the front entrance.
"Are you joking? This place has the best drinks in D.C. Besides, they're open on the Fourth, and it's never packed. Also, you're buying."
"Wait, the fuck? No, that's not happening. Last time that happened, I spent two grand on repairs at a burger joint."
"Well, it was the guy's fault for grabbing that waitresses ass. Shit's not okay, and I was already having a crappy enough day, as it was."
Houston sighed, holding the front door open for Angel. Ducking underneath his arm, she muttered her thanks, before leading the two into her favorite café. Joe's Cup was a rundown place, as Houston had put it simply. Originally a restaurant, it had been purchased in 2008 by Olivia and Darcy Frederickson, a married couple originally from Maine. They had three children and two huskies. Angel found this all out within the first ten minutes of the two meeting the owners.
Sitting on a dark jade stool, Angel swiveled around in the seat, tapping her fingers on the counter while they waited. Houston sat next to her, his eyes scanning the whiteboard above the counters.
"Why don't they just use chalk like the rest of the hipster joints?"
"Because Darcy's allergic to chalk. Liv tries to keep that stuff out as best as she can."
"Oh. Well, then, what are you getting?"
Angel glanced out of her peripheral vision to the older heister, before turning her gaze back to the pastry shelf next to the bar.
"I don't know, probably a cannoli and, uh... peppermint mocha. What about you, Don?"
"Don? Where'd that come from."
Angel turned to Houston, a shit eating grin on her face. His face dropped.
"Don't you fucking dare, Angel."
"Donacdum, Houston."
"I hate you, you know that?"
"Bitch please, I'm your favorite. Besides, if you hated me, you wouldn't be about to order the same damn thing, you peppermint mocha loving American. Of course, you're getting a 'SuperCin Roll', and we're gonna share our delicious pastry treats, 'cause we always do, every single Wednesday evening."
"Okay, you got me there. But seriously, no more Donacdum bullshit. It's the most annoying thing on the planet, and that's saying something since Hoxton used to be the most annoying thing on the planet."
Raising her hands up in defeat, Angel turned her head to greet the barista, Darcy.
"Hey, you two! Thought I'd missed you, today. You're later than usual."
"Blame it on Derek, he was taking too long getting his shoes tied."
The older woman smiled at the two, turning around to grab two paper to go cups. She wore a bright pink dress, kind of like the ones that fifties styled waitresses wore.
"I'm sure he had no problem tying his shoes, Adrian. Were you two arguing in the car, again? Is that what made you so late?"
"She wanted to stop at an animal shelter, then tried to convince me that our apartment absolutely needs a cockatiel. She does this every week, Darcy."
The owner turned back to the heisters, placing their drinks on the counter, before grabbing a plate for their pastries. Setting a single cannoli and a cinnamon roll on the plate, she gave the dish to Houston, who grabbed the knife from his cutlery set and began to cut the roll. Once it was cut, he set Angel's half on her part of the plate, while she began sipping at her mocha and chewing on the cannoli.
"I jus' find it stupid that our landlord won't let me have the bird. It's not like it'll be too loud. It's a cockatiel, not a cockatoo."
"Addie, chew and swallow before you speak, you pastry gremlin. Besides, if our landlord hears anything with the word bird in it, he'll automatically think loud obnoxious creature. Then again, that still doesn't explain how you got into the apartment since you fit both of those criteria."
"It's 'cause of my good looks and charm, Derk. Landlord loves me, just hates animals. I think he's the real gremlin. Here, I can't finish it."
Passing the remainder of her cannoli to Houston, he let out a soft 'sweet' before quickly popping the cannoli into his mouth. Meanwhile, Darcy rolled her eyes, grabbing a cloth to clean a water spill on the sink.
"I don't get why you two don't just split the cannoli. Adrian never finishes her half, you two know this."
Houston shrugged, finished with chewing the cannoli. He cleared his throat, taking a sip of his mocha, before speaking.
"It's tradition. We come here every Wednesday, a new argument boiling over. You give us really good food and mochas, and we complain about life until you kick us out half an hour later."
"Oh yeah, and we tip you really well before we leave. Especially on holidays, since you actually stay open on them."
"That's your tradition? A lover's quarrel and pastries? You two need to get better hobbies. You don't want to end up fat and old like me and Olivia, do you?"
Angel pointed a finger at Darcy.
"If it means I'll become an amazing baker and have an amazing wife who's awesome at making peppermint mochas in July, then hell yes, I do!"
Rolling her eyes again, Darcy pulled her hair back into a ponytail, securing it and fixing stray hairs, before walking over to the register. She motioned for the two to follow.
"Well, it's only been eight minutes, but I promised Olivia we'd drop by the house and get the kids for the fireworks, tonight. You two plan on going to the big show?"
Both heisters shook their heads, but Houston spoke.
"We would, but it's too crowded for our liking. We'll probably just pick up some fireworks on the way back, set them off in the backyard with our neighbors."
Handing a fifty dollar bill over to Darcy, the older woman took it and handed Angel the change, who quickly slipped under Houston's outstretched arm to pop the bills into the tip jar. Darcy perked her lips, eyebrow lifting at the short girl.
"You know, your orders only came out to $26.38, right?"
Angel nodded, before grabbing Houston's hand and heading for the door. She waved as Houston opened the door for her, before calling out as they left.
"Yeah, but we always tip the people we like a lot more. Happy Fourth, Darcy! Say hi to the wife and kids for us!"
"Will do. You kids have a good night, too, you hear?"
"Yep! Bye!"
Walking out the front, Angel looked to Houston, who had both drinks in his hands. Cursing, Angel's eyes met the man's, who just looked confused.
"Which one's mine, which one's yours?"
Houston shrugged, before handing her a cup at random.
"Tradition?"
Angel nodded, taking the drink in her left hand, and Houston's in her right. They began walking to the car.
"Tradition. Also, Houston?"
The taller of the two looked down to his friend, whose face held a serious tone.
"What's up?"
"Make sure you donacdum on the Fourth Of July."
"Oh, shut up and drink your mocha, you damned gremlin."