It’s one thing for Rita to come into the office bouncing on her heels at a mile a minute. That could mean anything– maybe she got a new computer, or she waved at a celebrity on the street, or they just announced another movie marathon for her to binge on. 

Two things set this apart from every other day, though.

First, she hasn’t rambled to him about every tiny detail of the thing. And second, it lasts more than a day. Or two. Or three.

Juno tells himself that he doesn’t want to know. If it matters, Rita will tell him on her own time. He’s got work to do.

It’s damn hard to focus when she keeps giggling like that, though.

The first real clue drops into his lap almost a week later, when he comes to work with a hangover and Rita comes in vibrating so hard the screws are starting to come out of her chair. 

He sighs. “What, did they open a new coffee shop or something?”

He’s pretty sure the squeak she makes isn’t supposed to be an answer, but he takes it as one anyway. Yes, there’s a new coffee shop, but he’s not supposed to know about it. 

Kind of a weird secret to keep from him, but he’s not going to push it. For all he knows, Rita’s got a crush on the barista or something. It doesn’t sound dangerous, and that means he’s too hungover to care.

He knows there’s a problem when Rita starts coming in late to work. She doesn’t even have the decency to be frazzled about it– she just keeps being giddy and giggly, and it is too goddamn early in the morning for this. When he finally gives in and asks her, her drawn-out giggles and singsong “oh, no reason,” are too obnoxious to stand. 

And it just keeps getting worse.

It’s been going for nearly two weeks when she comes in so flushed it looks like she’s been running. He can’t even worry about her safety  because she takes one look at him and bursts into a throaty giggle so intense that it triggers a coughing fit.

“Goddammit, Rita,” he snaps once he’s gotten some water in her. “I’m not paying you to come in late and moon over your crush all day. Just–” Goddammit, the last thing he needs is to get involved in Rita’s love life. “Just tell them how you feel already so you can move on or whatever, okay?”

Even worse: that just makes Rita giggle harder.

“Oh, I ain’t the one with the crush,” she tells him in that same goddamn singsong. “It’s a friend  of mine. But he’s got it bad, Mista Steel. Real bad.”

“Then tell him to spit it out already,” Juno snaps, and he storms back into his own office, accompanied by the sound of Rita’s laughter.

When Juno wakes up that morning, it’s to the staccato beat of Rita’s fist on his door. 

Not his apartment door, mind you. His bedroom door.

“Rise and shine, boss! Ain’t it a great morning? Just a perfect day to get some breakfast together, whadya say? My treat.”

“Rita?” He tries to prop himself up but misses the edge of the mattress, nearly falling out of bed entirely. Goddammit, did he even remember to wear pajamas last night? “What the hell?”

“Come ooooon,” she croons, rattling the door. “Come on, come on, come on! We gotta goooooo!” 

“I swear if you come in here I’m throwing my clock at you.” Not for the first time, Juno regrets letting her install the digital locks on his apartment. He yanks on a pair of socks and the first pair of pants that isn’t entirely bloodstained, and throws a shirt on for good measure.

He’s barely got the door open before Rita throws his shoes and holster at him.

“Here’s your stuff now let’s go already!”

“Jesus,” Juno mutters. “How much coffee have you had?”

“None!” Her voice is just shy of supersonic. “That’s the whole problem!”

Suddenly Juno plants his feet. “Wait. Is this about your barista friend?”

“Well…” She draws the word out too long to be comfortable. “I told him what you said to me, but he didn’t believe me. But I figure you know what you’re talkin’ about, so if he heard it comin’ from you…”

Juno would scrub a hand down his face, but one hand is holding a blaster and the other one’s got a shoe in it. “You’re never actually going to leave me alone about this?”

“Not until you come talk to him.” She looks so proud of herself. 

Well, he’s already up and dressed. Might as well get breakfast in him, especially if this finally cures Rita of her caffeine habit. “Fine. Whatever. But you’re buying.” 

By the time Rita parks the car, Juno’s having some serious second thoughts. Rita’s giddy enough that she really doesn’t need any more caffeine in her– half a cup of coffee and she might vibrate right through the floor. 

“Okay, so here’s the plan,” she says in that gruff voice that she uses when she’s playing private eye. “I’ll go in first and get him alone, and then you come in after me. That way he can’t make a break for it.”

“Wait, did you actually tell him I was coming?” Juno starts after her. “Rita!” 

But it’s too late. She’s already traipsing through the doors.

Juno grates out a sigh and wanders after her, ignoring the stupid plan. Besides, this isn’t the kind of establishment he wants to leave Rita alone in. The fixtures of the place are too generic, the tables are nearly identical to three other shops he’s been in, and despite this being the middle of the breakfast rush, the dining room is empty.

“Coffee shop my ass,” he mutters under his breath. “This is obviously a money laundering operation. I’m surprised they even sell… coffee.” 

And then Rita steps aside, and she’s no longer blocking his view of the barista, and the world slows down.

He’s standing on the other side of the counter, tall and graceful even in that ridiculous generic apron with some stupid fake name scribbled on the nametag, his shirt sleeves rolled elegantly up to his elbows. The thick frames of his glasses can’t quite hide the surprise in his eyes. 

Rita giggles. “How about I give you two some privacy?”

At least, that’s what Juno thinks she said, but right now it’s hard to focus on anything but Peter Nureyev. 

“Hello, Juno.” His voice is soft and even. 

And Juno… Juno has no words to offer him, except, “You’re here.”

“I am.”

“You said you were leaving Mars for good.”

Nureyev’s lips press into a thin, sad smile. “Apparently we both said things we didn’t mean.”

The reminder hits Juno square in the gut, and suddenly he’s reliving all his broken promises, all his lies, all the stupid things he said, all the things he ruined. What is he doing here? What was he thinking, talking to him?

“I should go,” he says hastily, and he turns around, striding to the door as fast as his legs can carry him.

Rita, as it turns out, is even faster. Just as Juno reaches for the door, she throws herself into his path. 

“Oh no you don’t!” She grabs him by the shoulders and bodily turns him around, and Juno remembers suddenly how strong Rita is when she means to be. 

“Rita–” 

“Don’t blow this, boss!” Rita hisses, and marches Juno back up to the counter. She flashes Nureyev a smile. “Don’t mind me, Agent Glass. Just pretend I’m not even here. You two just go back to what you were talkin’ about.”

Nureyev offers her a bemused smile before he turns his attention back to Juno. “I believe you were about to leave.” Juno can hear the empty space where Nureyev wants to say “again”. 

“Listen,” Juno says too quickly. “That was–” He wants to call it a mistake, but it wasn’t. Not really. Not the way he wishes it was. He lowers his voice. “That was pretty messed up.”

“That’s certainly one way of putting it,” Nureyev says evenly. 

“Listen, I shouldn’t have done what I did. The way I did. I shouldn’t have…” Juno wants to look away, but Nureyev deserves better than that, so Juno stuffs his hands into his pockets and just spits it out already. “Leaving Mars wasn’t an option for me. I don’t think it ever will be.”

“You could have said that.”

“I know.” There’s a lump in Juno’s throat. “There’s a lot I should have said. A lot I should have done differently. I keep going over that night, and I keep thinking–”

There’s a light clatter and the suction sound of a door being opened, followed by a louder, much more violent crash. Nureyev leans over to get a better view, and Juno twists to do the same. A young couple is standing in the doorway, looking bewildered and a little bit horrified as Rita shoves the door shut on them. The table by the window is still wobbling, and the chair where she must have been sitting is now overturned, still rocking gently. She must have leaped out of her seat to bar the door. 

“Beat it!” she cries. “We’re closed!”

“But the sign–” says one of the prospective customers.

“Who cares about a stupid sign? Can’t you see there’s a touching reunion happening?” With one last shove, she slams the door, and then gives the ‘open’ sign a vindictive little flip, and then she draws the blinds on the shop windows, just for good measure. As soon as she’s satisfied she rights her overturned chair and sits back down.

“Okay, you can continue,” she says daintily. 

Juno frowns. That whole display has given him a few moments to get over the shock of seeing Nureyev again, which means he’s had a few seconds to put together the clues. “You’ve been spying on me.” 

“I wouldn’t call it spying,” Nureyev says. “Just checking in on you. I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“’Just checking in’ would be checking my social media feeds,” Juno says.

“I hardly see why. You haven’t touched those in years.”

Juno ignores him. “No. You opened a business between Rita’s apartment and my office, and you’ve been grilling her for information on me, haven’t you?”

“I would hardly call it ‘grilling’, Juno. I just gave her a few drinks in exchange for a bit of advice.” 

“You shoulda seen him, boss,” Rita says from her place by the window. “He was just so sad, and then when he’d talk about you he would–”

“Don’t you start,” Juno snaps. “You sold me out for a latte.” 

“It wasn’t like that at all,” Rita says in a rush. “It’s just that you weren’t ever gonna tell me what happened when you disappeared for all that time, but then Agent Glass explained it to me, and you shoulda said something, boss! And besides, he only wanted to know if you were doin’ okay. He was real worried about you, too.” 

“So you did all this?” Juno demands. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just walk up to the door and… and say something?”

“I was building up to that,” Nureyev says. 

“He was worried about how you’d react,” Rita supplies helpfully.

Because of course he was.