the fbi enlists a group of teenagers with special talents to help solve cold cases. but suddenly, the cases aren't so cold.
NO SMUT OR SEXUALIZING ━ if any of the triplets are uncomfortable with this fanfiction, it will be taken down immediately.
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I. Country Club
The hours are bad. The tips are worse. And, the majority of her coworkers have definitely left something to be desired, but all that runs through Juniper Madden's head is c'est la vie. It's a summer job, and it keeps her Nonna off her back, which is all that really matters. It also prevents her various aunts, uncles, and kitchen-sink cousins from feeling like they have to offer her temporary employment in their restaurant/butcher shop/legal practice/boutique. Given the size of June's father's very large, very extended (and very Italian) family, the possibilities are endless ━ but it's always a variation of the same theme.
June's father lives half a world away, deployed for years now. Her mother is missing, presumed dead. June is everyone and no-one's problem.
"Order up!"
With practiced ease, Juniper grabs a plate of pancakes with her left hand and a two-handed breakfast burrito with her right. If the ACT doesn't go well in the spring, at least she knows she's got a real future ahead of her in the crappy diner industry.
"Pancakes with a side of bacon. Breakfast burrito, jalapeños on the side." She slides the plates onto the table. "Anything else I can get for you gentlemen?"
Before either of them open their mouths, June knows exactly what each will say. The guy on the left is going to ask for extra butter, whilst his friend on the right is going to need another glass of water before he can even think about those jalapeños.
Ten-to-one odds, he doesn't even like them.
Because guys who actually like jalapeños don't order them on the side. Juniper would bet a thousand dollars that Mr. Breakfast Burrito just doesn't want people to think he's a pussy. (Somehow, she knows he'd use that word specifically.)
In truth, none of this is intentional. It just happens with June. She's spent a lot of time over the years getting inside other people's heads.
Occupational hazard. Not hers. Her mother's.
"Could I get a few more of these butter packets?" the guy on the left asks, raising his brows at Juniper.
She nods ━ and waits.
"More water," the man on the right mutters. He purses his lips, straightening his posture and pushing his chin out ever so slightly. June doesn't miss the way his gaze travels from her face down to her chest.
She fights the urge to roll her eyes, opting to force a smile instead. "I'll be right back with that water." She manages to keep from adding pervert to the end of that sentence, but only just. She's still holding out hope that a man in his late twenties who pretends to like spicy food and makes a point of staring at his teenage waitress' breasts like he's training for the Ogling Olympics might be equally showy when it comes to leaving tips.
