Nine-Tenths

Thirty-Five

Ugh.

It's everything I can do not to spit it back out. It tastes like hours of stomach aches, things exiting my throat in the wrong direction, and blinding headaches.

Also, a bit of raspberry.

"Colin!" Dav yelps. "You stupid man, what are you—"

I swallow.
Dav frets and fetches a glass of water for me. Hadi throws away the packaging. I lean against the fridge, wrap my arms around my stomach, squeeze my eyes shut, and wait. And wait. And wait. After about five minutes, Dav puts his hand on my shoulder, thumb sweeping over my jugular sweetly.

"Colin?"

"I... I'm fine," I admit slowly. I relax from my anticipatory clench. "I've actually never felt better. Never mind the chocolate, I haven't had a middle-of-the-night anxiety attack in..." I check the tracking app Dr. Chen recommended. "Uh," is the only noise I can make when I figure out the day.

"Uh, what?" Hadi prompts.

"Uh, since Dav started roasting."

"No," Dav says, panic crawling across his face. "That can't be happening."

"Just because a dragon is handling the beans does not make my coffee magic," Hadi says. "What... the fuck... is going on?"

"This can't happen," Dav says desperately.

"But it is," I say gently. "Did you know?"

"Of course not!" Dav protests, wringing his hands. "No one has ever... how could I possibly...?"

"Tell me the truth," Hadi says. "Because I'm starting to think Pedra's not full of shit."

"No." Dav's fingers go to his hair, clenching. He looks like a trapped wildcat, eyes darting as he turns in panicked circles, with nothing to lash out at and nowhere to run.

But Hadi is relentless. "My insomnia is gone. I haven't had heartburn once since you started, and I used to go through a pack of Pepcid a week. Colin had chocolate and didn't get sick. Twice."

Dav looks at me, helpless and pleading.

"I think we should 'fess up. If you want to. It's your secret."

"Explain!" Hadi roars.

"It was meant as a joke, you see," Dav says, wild. "I was only going to do one batch."

"Yeah, but then it was good," I cut in.

"What have you been doing to my beans?"

Dav checks both the doors are closed before picking up the cauldron of beans he had been preparing before Pedra's shouting pulled him to the front. Hadi opens the chute cap on the manual roaster, but Dav shakes his head, and backs into the corner, as far away from us as he can get.

"What's he doing—" Hadi says, but I interrupt her with a murmured: "Just watch."

My hands are shaky. My heart is kicking hard. I can't seem to get a deep breath. One stupid joke, and suddenly Dav—my Dav, my dragon—is cowering in a corner. What have I done?

Dav inhales, purses his lips, and blows. Hadi gasps as Dav swirls the cauldron, making sure each bean is well-coated with flame. After a few minutes, he stops, and holds it out for Hadi to see. The room smells deliciously of fresh roast and warm smoke. Hadi takes a cautious step forward, eyes massive, and peers into the cauldron. One bean cracks loudly in the tense quiet, and she jumps back with a yelp.

"That's the only difference," I whisper. "And you can't tell anyone."

"Why not?" Hadi asks, eyes darting between the two of us. I've accidentally trapped her in the middle, forcing her to turn her head fully to speak to one of us, unable to keep us both in her sights. She looks uncomfortable, like she's remembering, maybe, that Dav isn't homo sapien. Dav moves slowly, lets Hadi back away as he circles around her to put the hot cauldron on the metal worktable.