Coffee
by Wyndewalker
Feedback email: wynde @ wyndewalker . com
Author's Note: This all started out a long time ago, last summer I think, when someone posted a top ten list of things Ezra Standish was least likely to say. Number one on the list was "I feel pretty. Oh, so pretty." Suddenly I had an image of Ezra dancing around the ATF office in a pink tutu singing those words. I was then challenged by someone on the list, whose name unfortunately escapes me at the moment, to write a story involving said image. I couldn't get him in the tutu but I did get him doing ballet while singing those words. Mostly humorous, a little angst, and the guys kicking bad-guy butt.<G> It all started with a cup of coffee. <EG>

Coffee

Ezra Standish, walking GQ fashion plate and ATF undercover agent, pulled his sleek black Jag into a parking spot at the Fifth St Starbucks. Stepping out of the leather interior, he ran a hand down the front of his charcoal gray Canale suit jacket to smooth out any wrinkles. A quick glance at his watch indicated it was a quarter to nine and he was later than usual for work.

When he'd gone to get his morning paper from the middle of his front yard, where the paperboy insisted upon throwing it, he'd discovered his neighbor was still letting his dog do its business on his lawn. He doubted that would continue after the man received the bill for the six hundred dollar pair of Italian leather shoes he'd ruined. To make matters worse he'd discovered he was out of coffee and had been forced to do without his first cup. All in all it had not been a good morning. Hopefully, after a cup of his favorite Mocha Frappucino things would look up.

Striding into the coffee shop, Ezra inhaled deeply, enjoying the heady scent of freshly brewed caffeine. He smiled in relief when he saw there were only three people on line. He'd missed the morning rush because of his tardiness, thank God. The line went quickly and he soon found himself standing before the always-chipper counter-girl, Bethany.

"Good morning, Mr. Standish," she chirped happily, possibly even more cheerful and hyper than she usually was. He wondered just how many cappuccinos she'd had so far.

"Good morning, my dear. A double shot Mocha Frappucino with whipped cream please."

One minute she was smiling, the next she looked like she would start bawling. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Standish. The frappucino maker is broken. I've called the repair company like six times already and they say they'll get here as soon as they can but they still haven't shown up and I think they're just not taking the situation seriously enough cause people need their frappucino in the morning and I can't give them their frappucino if the frappucino maker isn't working and that makes people angry and that seriously bums me out cause I want to serve people their frappucinos but I can't do that if the frappucino maker is broken, ya know?"

Ezra grabbed her wildly gesticulating hands before she could do harm to herself, him, or the counter display. Before he could ask what had gotten into her she was off and running again.

"We don't have any frappucino but we did get in this great new coffee blend. It's South American Rainforest blend and it is sooo good. I don't think I've ever tasted coffee this good. I musta had at least five cups so far this morning. It's just so good I can't stop drinking it. Here try some. It's sooooo good, you won't believe it." She pulled her hands away from his to pour a large cup of the new blend. Carefully taking it from her, he sniffed delicately at the dark liquid. It had a pleasant aroma. Bolstered, he took a sip letting it sit in his mouth, savoring the rich, loamy, and surprisingly sweet taste.

"You are quite right, my dear. This is excellent coffee. I'll take this large cup and a bag of the coffee bean blend." Ezra sipped again at the delicious brew. "Better yet, make it two bags. I must have some of this at work and at home. Mmmm, keep the change, my dear."

He left more than enough on the counter and walked out, cradling the precious paper sack in one arm, while his other hand held the 24oz cup close to his face so he could inhale the aroma. In the Jag he reluctantly placed the cup in the holder while he secured the paper sack in the passenger seat. He took another sip of coffee, only leaving it in the cup holder long enough to pull out into traffic. The 15-minute drive to the office was made one-handed as he continually sipped at the dark brew.

By the time Ezra reached the underground parking lot, he'd consumed the whole 24ozs, causing an urgent need to use the facilities. Jumping out of the Jag, he grabbed the paper sack of coffee and nudged the door shut with his hip. He'd just reached Buck's pickup when he realized he'd forgotten his briefcase. With a sigh he returned to the Jag, retrieved it and headed once again to the elevator.

He paused by Vin's jeep, putting down his briefcase so he could scratch Cuervo's back. As was their morning ritual, he reminded the cat what would happen if he found paw prints on the Jag. "Just one paw print, Mr. Cuervo, and I will be sporting a brand new pair of orange and cream colored fur gloves this winter. Of course that would clash hideously with my suits, but you get my meaning don't you, Mr. Cuervo? Good. So long as we are in mutually beneficial agreement."

Cuervo simply stared at him, twitching his tail from side to side. With a nod, Ezra continued on. He was almost to the elevator when he realized he'd forgotten his briefcase. A quick return trip to Vin's jeep and finally he made it to the elevator. Paper sack in one hand, briefcase in the other, and one leg twitching nervously as he suppressed the urgent need for the facilities, he waited impatiently for the elevator ride to end.

On the twelfth floor he bypassed the main entrance to Team Seven's office area and went straight to the men's room. A few moments later he reemerged, the paper sack cradled securely by his left arm, feeling quite relieved and in need of another cup of coffee. He took two steps before heading back inside to get his briefcase again.

Entering the office area, he said a polite hello to Nathan and Josiah, who just smiled and shook their heads at his lateness. He ignored Buck and JD's teasing, although he did drop his briefcase to catch the nerfball flying at him. Ezra tossed it back to JD, making sure it passed just out of his reach. The young man lost his precarious balance and tip over backwards in an attempt to catch it. Buck nearly toppled over as well, laughing at the kid's indignant "Hey!"

"Morning, Ez," Vin said with a grin as the undercover agent sat down at the desk across from him. They both turned at the sound of a crash. Buck was laying flat on his back, trying not laugh while pushing JD from his chest.

"Good morning, Mr. Tanner. Beautiful day isn't it?"

"Ayeah." Vin glanced sideways at Ezra. "Uh, forget something, Ez?"

"What? No, of course...where did I...ah, there it is." Once again Ezra retrieved his forgotten briefcase. He'd barely sat down before he was springing up again. "I'm going to make myself some coffee. Would you like some more of that mud you insist upon calling coffee, Mr. Tanner?"

"Uh, sure. Thanks." Vin watched the Southerner disappear into the break room, paper sack clutched firmly in his hands. Chris poked his head out of his office and shook his head at Buck and JD's antics before looking towards Vin and Ezra's desks.

"Has Ezra managed to get his scrawny butt in here yet?"

"Yep. He's in the break room making himself coffee."

"When he gets back here tell him I want to see him, and tell him to bring the Davidson case file."

"Sure thing, cowboy."

Chris just glared at him before slamming his door closed. Vin grinned, going back to the file he'd been working on. Buck and JD had finally gotten back to work by the time Ezra came bouncing out of the break room. Vin happened to look up as Ezra paused in the doorway, a sudden look of realization crossing his face and he turned back into the other room. He returned quickly with a second cup of coffee in his hand. A vague unsettled feeling filled Vin's gut, making him frown. Something about Ezra's behavior wasn't right. He watched as the normally reserved agent practically skipped across the office area, a wide grin on his face.

"Here you go, Mr. Tanner. One cup of mud, black with far too much sugar in it. Just the way you like it."

"Thanks, Ez. You feeling okay?"

"Of course. I'm fit as a fiddle. Righter than rain. Happier than a fox in a hen house. Things couldn't be better. Did you know this is the absolutely most delicious tasting coffee I have ever had the pleasure of sipping? It has the most aromatic bouquet and the taste is sheer divinity." Ezra gestured expansively with his empty hand. "I've never felt more awake, even after having a triple shot espresso made by the very best coffeehouse in Milan. This is truly a work of art."

"Ez, you're talking about a cup of coffee," Vin said, starting to feel very uneasy.

"Well, yes, of course, Mr. Tanner, but this is simply the most exquisite coffee I've ever had. I'd strongly suggest you try some, but this is my coffee. You will simply have to take yourself down to the Fifth St. Starbucks and purchase some for yourself. Just a word of warning though," he said, wagging his finger, "young Miss Bethany is quite hyper this morning. I believe she has been imbibing heavily of this delicious brew herself. Ah, good morning, Mr. Larabee!" Ezra sing-songed when the ATF leader stuck his head out the door of his office. Chris glared at him, wondering what the joke was.

"My office now, Ezra, and bring the Davidson case file with you."

"Of course, Mr. Larabee. Right away, Mr. Larabee. It will be my pleasure, Mr. Larabee." With a broad grin Ezra picked up his coffee and headed towards Chris. He paused, returned to his desk, grabbed the necessary file, and once more headed towards Chris's office. He slipped past the blonde man and took a seat, all the while sipping at his coffee. Chris looked from Ezra, who sat with one leg bouncing, to the others in the office. The five agents shrugged their shoulders. They didn't have a clue what was up with the Southerner either.

"What have you got for me, Ezra?" Chris asked taking a seat in his own chair.

"I'm sorry, Chris, but you're going to have to get your own coffee. This is mine, and I'm not sharing it."

"Uh, that's fine, Ez. I was talking about the Davidson case."

"Oh yes, that seedy little man Davidson. An extremely disreputable fellow he is. Don't like him. Don't like him at all. No, siree, Bob. Well, actually that would be no, siree, Chris, now wouldn't it. Hmm, must remember that. Chris, not Bob. Yes, your name is Chris Larabee, not Bob Larabee. Definitely not. Doesn't have quite the same ring to it, does it? Nope, just not the same. This is very good coffee by the way. I heartily recommend you swing by the Fifth St. Starbucks and pick up some for yourself. I'd share but this is my coffee. Anyway, about that odious little man Davidson. Let's see, what has he done? He's been a very bad boy, you know. He's suspected of arms trafficking, racketeering, some drug trafficking on the side, assault, possible murder or at least accessory to murder. He has an appalling taste in clothes as well, you know. Absolutely hideous. Why if there were fashion police, he would be a prime candidate for arrest. Right after Mr. Wilmington, of course. I simply do not understand his choice in clothes. If he were to simply dress himself properly and in a stylish fashion why I believe he'd truly have the women lined up outside his door just waiting to see him."

"Davidson?" Chris asked confused, still trying to figure out how the man had managed to say all that without taking a breath.

"No, Mr. Wilmington. Haven't you been listening to me, Mr. Larabee, Chris, not Bob? Where was I? Oh yes, that hideous little man Davidson. Now, I don't think I shall have a very hard time ingratiating my self with that disgusting little man Davidson. Has a severe case of money envy, you know. Very bad. His mother came from good family, old money, but when she married his father, well the family wasn't too happy about that, let me tell you. No, siree, Chris not Bob, they weren't. Disowned the woman in fact. That repellant little man Davidson was brought up on stories of 'when I had money' and 'good families are everything'. He wants to be that. Gain back what his mother lost, you know."

Chris listened in sick fascination as Ezra rambled on and on about every inconsequential detail he'd learned about Davidson. He couldn't believe how much Ezra knew about him. What was frightening him even more were the actions of the man in front of him. Normally a verbose man, this extreme rambling was a bit much, even for Ezra. The Southerner's left hand had never stopped moving as he talked, gesturing wildly about, while his right hand held the large cup of coffee, bringing it to his lips every few words so he could take a sip. His eyes had taken on a slightly glassy look. After what had to be almost ten minutes of non-stop chatter Ezra suddenly quieted, a small frown on his face as he looked at his coffee cup.

"Oh dear, I appear to be out of coffee. Would you like some of that mud Vin calls coffee, Mr. Larabee, Chris not Bob? I'd bring you some of this absolutely superlative coffee, but this is mine. I'll be right back."

Before Chris could even say anything Ezra was up and out the door. Chris got up and followed him into the main office, watching as the undercover agent disappeared once more into the break room. He looked around at the others who were also staring as Ezra passed. "Okay, when the hell did I step into the Twilight Zone?"

"Actually we were just wondering the same thing, pard," Buck said, openly concerned.

JD pulled off his headphones. "Yeah, Ez is acting really weird. Even for him. I mean, I don't think I've ever seen him smile that much before, have you guys?"

"Nope, least not big grins like that," Vin said. "Anyone else notice he keeps forgetting stuff too? I saw him forget his briefcase twice, a cup of coffee for me, and the Davidson file for Chris."

"Do not mention that name," Chris groaned. "Ezra told me more about that weasel in ten minutes than I ever wanted to know in my entire lifetime. The man was seriously babbling in there. I was waiting for him to pass out from lack of oxygen."

"He seems quite taken by that new coffee he's drinking. Perhaps that has something to do with it?" Josiah asked, leaning back in his chair. He glanced in the break room and stopped to watch Ezra. The Southerner was juggling two oranges, an apple, and what was definitely his papaya. "Did anyone know that Brother Standish knows how to juggle?"

Just then the little bell went off on the coffee machine, startling Ezra. He dropped all the fruit but managed to grab the papaya before it hit the ground. Josiah let out a sigh of relief, then groaned when Ezra placed it on the edge of the counter and it rolled off to hit the floor with a slight splat sound. A moment later, fresh cup of coffee in hand, Ezra strolled back into the main office. He smiled upon seeing Chris standing by Vin's desk.

"Ah, Mr. Larabee, Chris not Bob, I have the details on the Davidson case. Would you like to go over them now?" He completely missed the looks of incredulity from the others as he walked to his desk. Opening his briefcase, he started rifling through it. "I could have sworn I put it in here this morning. I'm sure I put it in here, you know."

Buck and JD glanced at each other, mouthing, "You know?" That was not a phrase usually found in the Southerner's vocabulary. Too much like slang.

Vin got up and slipped into Chris's office, returned and held the file out to Ezra. "This what you're looking for, pard?"

"Ah, there it is. Wherever did you find it, Mr. Tanner? I was sure I'd left it my briefcase. Thank you. Now, Mr. Larabee, Chris not Bob, where were we?" Ezra started back towards Chris's office but paused at JD's desk when he heard the music coming from the headphones around the younger man's neck. "What is that you're listening to, Mr. Dunne? It doesn't sound like your usual taste in audio stimuli."

Before JD could make any kind of reply Ezra removed the headphones from around JD's neck and was placing them over his own ears. "Why, Mr. Dunne, you are listening to showtunes. I don't believe I've ever heard you listen to this particular type of music before. What a cultural shock it must be for you. Ah, I remember this one."

They watched in shock as he moved away from JD. Ezra was completely oblivious to the fact that as he moved, he pulled the headphones out of the jack. He began to twirl gracefully around the office as he sang in a credible falsetto, "I feel pretty! Oh, so, pretty!"

The guys weren't sure if they should be worried or laugh hysterically. Finally Chris nodded to Josiah, who quickly stepped up to the dancing Southerner. Before the smaller man had a chance to pirouette away, he grabbed him in a bear hug. The coffee, still clutched firmly in Ezra's hand, sloshed a little at the sudden stop in movement.

"Why, Mr. Sanchez, did you wish to dance?"

"Uh, no thanks, Ezra. I'm not really in the mood for dancing. I think maybe you should hand over that cup of coffee to brother Vin there."

"No! This is my coffee. He has to get his own. Just go to the Fifth St. Starbucks and they'll be more than happy to give you some coffee of your own. Just watch out, young Miss Bethany has been heavily imbibing of the coffee this morning. Even perkier than usual, and I didn't think that was possible. Would you be so kind as to unhand me, Mr. Sanchez?"

"Not until you give Vin that cup of coffee."

"No! It's mine! Tell them they can't make me give up my coffee, Mr. Larabee, Chris not Bob." Ezra pleaded, trying to squirm free of Josiah's grip while at the same time attempting not to spill any of his precious coffee.

"I really think you need to hand over that coffee, Ezra, and stop calling me that."

"But, Mr. Larabee, Chris not Bob, this is my coffee. Why should I give it to them? Let go of me, Mr. Sanchez."

"No, Ezra."

"Let go."

"No."

"Yes." Ezra pouted.

"No."

"Yes." Ezra's struggles started to become violent, no longer caring if he spilled the coffee. "I'm going to tell the Judge on you!"

Surprised that Ezra would resort to such a childish threat, Josiah loosened his grip. The smaller man immediately wriggled free and dashed for the corner between the wall and the filing cabinet. Wedging himself in there, Ezra glared at all of them, clutching his coffee cup and muttering, "My coffee. You can't take my coffee. All mine. Mine. My coffee."

Unable to do more than stand there in shock, none of them noticed when Judge Travis walked in.

"What is going on in here?" He demanded gruffly. Ezra flung himself from his corner, straight through the others and wrapped his arms around the Judge like a child.

"Judge! They were being mean to me!" He cried, burying his face in the Judge's chest. Awkwardly the Judge patted his back, saying, "There, there," while looking to the other six, his gaze obviously demanding an answer.

"We think something's wrong with that coffee he's drinking. We tried to get him to hand it over but he started to get violent," Chris answered, hoping maybe the Judge could get the Southerner to listen to reason.

"There's nothing wrong with my magnificent coffee. They just want it for themselves and Josiah grabbed me and wouldn't let go of me unless I gave it to them but I got away. Tell them they can't have it."

"Maybe it would be a good idea if you let them have some, Ezra. You know all good boys share," the Judge said trying to make it sound like it was a good thing.

"No! Not you too, Judge!" Ezra pushed away from him, his eyes wide, clutching the cup to his chest. "My coffee. It's my coffee."

They watched helplessly as Ezra swayed in front of them and collapsed in a heap. Vin and Buck rushed forward to break his fall. Chris stopped long enough to call 911 for an ambulance to the Federal building. Josiah was already on the phone to downstairs for Forensics to send up a team. Nathan was checking Ezra's vitals and listening to him breath. He put a hand to his forehead and frowned at the heat coming from the unconscious man.

Part 2