Chapter Text
Wilbur reached up and finally - finally flipped the Angel Cafe’s sign from open to closed.
He rested his hand on the glass for a moment, bowing his head. From his stance, one might assume he’d just run a marathon. After a moment he turned towards his brother, who had watched him flip the sign.
“Thank. God.” Wilbur emphasized. He practically dragged himself back to the counter, plopping into one of the seats.
Technoblade brought his hands up to his head, running a hand through his hair before tucking a few loose strands back and tying it into the ponytail it had been that morning. “Get up. We still gotta close.”
Wilbur responded by laying his head on the counter.
“Wilbur.”
“Give me a minute.”
Technoblade sighed, but walked around the counter to sit next to his brother. He was trying not to act it, but Wilbur watched him from the corner of his eye and could see he was just as tired as Wilbur was, if not more. Relief practically washed over his face as he sat down, as much as he tried to hide it.
And Wilbur couldn’t blame him. That shift had been brutal - not even brutal, downright Lethal. They’d both been on their feet all day, and between the waves upon waves of customers and the phone ringing non stop and the stupid fucking espesso machine overheating halfway through the day, the boys hadn’t had a single moment of rest the entire day. Both had forgone their breaks in an effort to avoid leaving the other to the wolves and they were both feeling the effects now.
The café was having more and more days like this lately. It was a good thing, wilbur supposed. That meant they were doing good, right? More business is better business.
Wilbur lifted his head. The café spun. He immediately laid his head back down again, groaning.
Then again, he could do with a few less customers. Maybe.
He heard the door behind the counter creak open. Technoblade turned his head toward the sound, but Wilbur knew without lifting his head again that it was their father, Philza. He was the only one in the cafe besides him and Technoblade.
After a moment, wilbur felt his father’s hand comb softly through his hair. He leaned into it slightly before lifting his head to look at Phil.
Philza smiled softly, eyes sympathetic. “Rough day?”
Wilbur hummed affirmatively. “Rough’s an understatement.”
Technoblade nodded. “Warzone.”
“If I make one more coffee I think my hands will fall clean off.” Wilbur proclaimed.
Technoblade nodded before standing up, wincing slightly, and walking a few feet to grab the broom sitting behind the counter. Wilbur took this as his cue to get up himself, flexing his fingers a few times before grabbing some gloves and a bag to empty the espresso pucks from the machine. Philza himself reached under the sink to flip the switch that would open the drain, grabbing a few sponges in preparation to scrub them clean.
Wilbur cleared out the pucks, slotting the part back into the machine and pressing a few buttons. He turned towards his father. “The machine’s been overheating again, by the way.”
Philza sighed. “Again? Didn’t we call the guy to fix it?”
Technoblade nodded. “He said he fixed it but I think he just recalibrated it and called it a day. It’s pulling shots just fine but keeps overheating halfway through the day.”
Philza shook his head. “Remind me to find someone else to come out here and take a look at it. Fucker was expensive so I’d rather not replace it if we can get it fixed.”
Wilbur nodded as he wiped down the machine’s outside. It’d been a big help in getting the drinks made quicker, since the machine ground and pressed the beans itself, and it’d be a pain in the ass if they had to get rid of it.
They each went through their respective tasks, and a little over half an hour later, the cafe was good as new. Wilbur and Technoblade slid into some seats at one of the shop’s tables, joined a few minutes later by their father who slid them each their own respective hot chocolates - their typical reward for a hard day's work.
Philza watched his sons sip their drinks. He grimaced. They looked dead on their feet. He sighed.
“I’m sorry today was so hard on you both. If I hadn’t been so busy in the back I would have helped out a bit more.”
Wilbur hummed, wiping a bit of whip cream off his face with his hand. “ ‘S fine dadza.”
Phil rolled his eyes at the nickname.
“Besides, business is business, right?” Wilbur continued. “More the merrier and such.”
Philza straightened up. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that. Sort of.”
Both boys looked at their father, a bit apprehensive. Philza smiled as he took a few papers out of a bag and set them on the table. “Nothing bad, promise,” he said, holding a hand up like he was swearing an oath. “Quite the opposite actually. You might be fans of this.”
Philza flipped through a few pages before settling on one, turning it towards the boys. They glanced at it. It was filled mostly with numbers and graphs that they didn’t really understand how to read - Philza usually took care of all of that - but the label at the top of the page told them they had something to do with the profits and expenses of the cafe over the past year.
Philza pointed to one of the graphs, tracing a finger to show its steady incline.
“You’re right. We’ve been getting a lot more business lately. I know it’s been difficult, but it also means we’ve been making more and our budget has increased.” He looked up from the paper and at his boys. “That means, if you think we could use it, it’d be in our budget to bring on another hire.”
Wilbur heard Technoblade suck in a breath next to him. Wilbur froze, his mind going a mile a minute.
His first reaction was, of course, relief. They needed the help around the cafe desperately, and an extra pair of hands would be a huge help, especially during rush hours.
But he was also a bit hesitant, likely for the same reason Technoblade had paused. The Angel cafe had always been a family business. It had always just been him, his father and brother, and his mother, Kristen. Kristen had passed away several years ago, but they’d never hired a replacement.
Until now, Wilbur supposes. He turned to look at Technoblade, who responded with a similar look of his own.
The two seemed to have a silent conversation with each other before turning back to their father, who was watching them patiently.
Technoblade took a sip of his drink, pausing for a moment before slowly speaking up. “It…. would be nice to have the extra help.”
Wilbur nodded somewhat hesitantly. “Yeah.” His fingers rubbed the design of the mug he was holding, a slightly peeling picture of the muppets on the mug’s side. “You thinking of anybody in particular?”
Philza shook his head. “Not really. I wanted to run the idea by you both first before I put up any sort of listing.”
The boys nodded.
“If you think it’d be a good idea, I trust you. And we could use the help.” Wilbur said. Technoblade nodded in agreement at his side.
Philza smiled. “Great. We can start looking tomorrow.”
000
Tommy didn’t consider himself to be a bad kid.
Was he perfect? No. He tried to be - believe him, he tried, but as the movies say, nobody is perfect.
But he wouldn’t go as far as to call himself a bad kid. He did what dream told him, wasn’t too loud - well, okay, he wasn’t too loud most of the time - was always clean - he could be a much worse kid, if he did say so himself. He could be out doing drugs! Stealing cars! There were much worse things for a 16 year old to be doing than sitting alone in his room.
Dream, of course, disagreed.
He looked up from his phone as Dream walked into his room, scowling. He didn’t knock - not that Tommy expected him to, Dream never knocked. He glared at tommy before walking over and snatching Tommy’s phone from his hand.
“Wh-”
“Your screentime is up.”
Tommy frowned. “I’ve only been on it for 20 minutes.”
Dream ignored him, scrolling on the screen and frowning. “What is this?”
“Youtube.”
Dream scowled. “Did I say you could have a youtube account?”
“I don’t. I’m watching stuff without one.”
“You have to tell me if you’re creating an account somewhere.”
“I know.”
“It’s basic internet safety.”
“I know.” Tommy said, frustrated. “Can I have my phone back?”
Dream glared at him. “I was going to hand it back, but I don’t like the attitude you’re giving me, so no. I Don’t think I will. I think I’ll keep it for the night.” Dream turned off the phone and slipped it into his jacket pocket.
Tommy grimaced as he watched Dream pocket his phone. Dream crossed his arms, staring down.
“You know, I’m really trying my best out here.” Dream said. “You could be a little more helpful sometimes. Have a bit less attitude. I feed you, I put a roof over your head, and you do absolutely nothing but sit on your ass all day and do nothing. I’m tired of having to do everything myself.”
“In fact,” dream continued, “I have something for you.” He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out an envelope, handing it to Tommy. Tommy turned it over in his hands, opening the flap and taking out the folded papers within it.
It was an electricity bill. $280. He looked up at dream.
“Since you use so much goddamned electricity I figured it’s only fair you start paying the monthly bill. Among others, but we’ll start there. It’s time you start earning your keep here.”
Tommy sputtered. “But - wh - I don’t have this much money! How am I supposed to pay for this?”
Dream rolled his eyes. “Do what every other kid your age does and get a job.”
Tommy opened his mouth to speak, but Dream held up a hand to silence him. “I don’t want to hear it, Thomas. It’s only fair. I expect you to pay that by the end of the month.”
Tommy swallowed. “What if I’m not able to?” he questioned quietly.
Dream’s gaze turned icy. “Then find another place to live. I’m not going to stand around while you take advantage of everything I do for you and do nothing to help.”
“But -” panic gripped Tommy. He had nowhere else to go. What if he wasn’t able to find a job? What if he couldn’t come up with the money in the few weeks before the end of the month? Before he could voice his concerns, Dream cut him off.
Dream leaned forward, his piercing green eyes locking onto Tommy’s blue ones. “Get a job,” he hissed, “or you’re gone.”
000
Armed with his phone, which Dream had thankfully returned after breakfast that morning, albeit with a lecture about watching his tone, and a $20 bill he’d found in an old jacket pocket, Tommy set off to buy a few groceries from the supermarket.
The cold stung his face as he walked, and he blew on his hands a bit. Now that he thought about it, he probably needed a better jacket too, but there was no way in hell he was going to even think of asking Dream for something like that. He’d just be yelled at or worse.
A spot of bright yellow caught his attention from the corner of his eye as he walked down the sidewalk, and he turned to look. He was right outside of The Angel Cafe. He’d never been in, but had heard bits and pieces on the street or in the store about the friendly coffee shop near the corner and how good their drinks were. Tommy had always wanted to check it out, but had never really had the time or cash to go get anything, so he’d never bothered.
Tommy shook himself from his thoughts, looking closer at the bright yellow paper taped haphazardly to the inside of the cafe window. His eyes widened as he realized what it was - a flier.
HELP WANTED!! It read in large black letters. $16/HR ! CALL IF INTERESTED!!! :D
The writing was accompanied by a phone number below the writing and a small doodle of a cup of coffee. Tommy wasted no time in taking out his phone and snapping a photo of the flier. He had to bring the groceries back to Dream before he started to complain about how long it was taking, but he made a mental note to call the number as soon as he could.
As soon as he could turned out to be, in fact, 10pm. Well, technically it’d been earlier than that, but the past few hours or so had really consisted more of Tommy pacing around his room thinking about making the phone call rather than calling the number itself.
Not that Tommy was nervous - he was a big man, the biggest even, and he makes phone calls with ease. In fact, he has so many girls numbers, because he’s so good at calling phones , and -
Okay. Maybe Tommy was a bit nervous. But how could he not be! He’d never had a job before, let alone called about one, and considering his housing was on the line (dream wouldn’t really kick him out, would he? …Tommy didn’t want to take his chances.) it seemed like a pretty important phone call to get right.
Finally Tommy snatched his phone off of his bed, typing in the number he’d long since memorized from the hours he spent staring at the photograph of the flier and pressing call before he could stall for any longer than he already had.
The phone rang for a few agonising cycles before Tommy recieved their voicemail message. He groaned, putting his face in his hand. Of course he wasn’t getting an answer. It was 10 at night, what was he even thinking?
Belatedly, he realized that the phone had beeped to signal he was leaving a message a while ago and he was so far leaving a message consisting of empty air. He kicked himself for not realizing sooner before quickly launching into his message. After leaving it, he pressed end call and threw his phone onto the bed, flopping onto it, embarrassed.
Well. He was fucked.
000
Technoblade woke up the next morning, rubbing his eyes. It was well past 11am. The café was closed that day in observance of some holiday he’d never heard of - really, he just thinks Phil was using it as an excuse to give everyone a break, not that he was complaining - so he’d taken the opportunity to sleep in.
He reached over, unplugging his cellphone from the wall. He typed in his password and opened it up. He blinked, confused, as he saw there was a voicemail from an unknown number. He hovered his thumb over the screen ready to delete it when he remembered that they had used his number for the café’s help wanted sign. Realizing this might be a potential applicant, he moved instead to play the message.
A few minutes later, Technoblade walked into the kitchen, phone in hand. Wilbur and Philza were already awake, the two always having been much more of morning people than Technoblade ever was. He walked in on some kind of conversation about…. The benefits of eating sand? Technoblade squeezed his eyes shut. He wasn’t going to even try to figure out what was going on.
Philza smiled at him as he walked in, pressing a warm mug of coffee into his free hand. “Morning sleeping beauty.”
“Yeah Yeah. Thanks” Technoblade replied, sipping the coffee. He held up his cellphone, shaking it a little. “Someone called for the job.”
Both Wilbur and Phil sat straighter in unison. “Who?” Wilbur asked.
“Some kid named Thomas.” Technoblade said. He unlocked his phone and pressed play on the voicemail, turning up the volume so his father and brother could hear.
The first solid 45 seconds of the message was just silence. Just as Wilbur was about to question if there was actually a message or not, a young boy’s voice broke the silence.
“Ay- uh, hi! Hi, sorry, I didn’t know - I hadn’t realized the message - yeah. Uh. Hello! I’m Tommy - Thomas, but you can call me Tommy, if you want - uh. Sorry. I saw the paper? In the window? I’m needing a job so I’m interested. In the job, that is. If it’s available. Still. Thank you!”
The message ended abruptly and Technoblade lowered his phone.
“He sounds promising.” Wilbur remarked.
Phil pressed his lips together. “Any other calls?”
Technoblade looked at his phone. “Nope,” he replied, scrolling through his call history, “Just the kid.”
Phil smiled hesitantly. “Well, it wouldn’t hurt all that much to bring him in, would it? Just for an interview.”
Wilbur looked skeptical, but Technoblade just nodded once. “I’ll call em’ back.”
Phil smiled at him before handing him some food. “You can do that in a bit. Eat first.”
Technoblade gave his father a small smile in return before sitting down to eat. Wilbur leaned over.
“You know what food has great health benefits -”
“Wilbur we are not bringing your brother into this-”
000
After the shitshow that was the voicemail he left last night, Tommy did not expect to get a call back. Which was why he was so surprised when his phone began to ring, loud in the silence of his room. He scrambled to quiet it before Dream could hear and complain before looking at who was calling. He stared at the string of numbers, about to decline what he assumed was a scam call, before recognizing the number last second and scrambling to hit accept.
“ ‘Ello?” he said, a bit too loud.
“Hey. This Thomas?”
“That’s me, yeah.”
“Hi, I’m Technoblade, from Angel Cafe. You called about the job listing, right?”
“Yeah, yeah I did.”
“Great. Are you free anytime soon? We’d like to bring you in for an interview.”
Tommy blinked. He could not believe what he was hearing. They actually wanted to bring him in? They must be desperate.
“Hello?” Technoblade’s voice came through the phone, and Tommy realized he hadn’t answered his question.
“Hi yes - yeah, sorry, I was just checking my calendar.” He lied. “I’m free any - really anytime. I can come in now even, if you’d like.”
“Give me one moment.” Tommy waited anxiously as he heard a few muffled voices conversate in the background before Technoblade’s voice once again became clearer on the other line.
“If you want to come in today you can meet us at the cafe around 3:30? The cafe is closed today, so it’d just be us.”
Tommy shot up from his seat. “Pog! I mean - that’s great. That sounds perfect. I’ll be there.”
“Great. See you then.” The line went silent.
Tommy wasted no time in grabbing a set of clean clothes and getting to work.
000
Philza parked his car in the usual spot outside the cafe at 3:10, his sons in tow, and was surprised to see someone leaning against the outside of the café , anxiously bouncing his leg while he scrolled through his phone. Young, blonde hair, and a slightly worn red jacket - Phil assumed this must be tommy, though he hadn’t expected him here for another 20 minutes.
The boy lifted his head and stood up straight as Phil and the boys walked closer. He pocketed his phone.
Philza walked up. “You must be Thomas. You’re a bit early.” He stuck out his hand. Tommy paused for a minute before shaking it.
“That’s me. Sorry. Technoblade?”
“Nothing to be sorry for.” Philza laughed. “And no, Technoblade is my son.” he gestured behind him to Technoblade, who held up a hand in greeting. “The other one is Wilbur.” Wilbur smiled and waved. “I’m Philza,” Phil continued, “You can call me Phil, though.”
“I’m Thomas,” Tommy said, realizing a bit belatedly they already knew this, “But you can call me Tommy.”
Phil smiled. “Its great to meet you tommy. Give us a few minutes to unlock the cafe and set up a few things and we’ll get to your interview”
Phil took out his key and unlocked the door. He flipped on the lights, then pulled a few chairs off of the table and set them around the table, gesturing for Tommy and the boys to sit down while he grabbed a few items. Tommy sat down across from Technoblade and Wilbur, who left the seat directly in front of him open for their father. Tommy shifted anxiously as they eyed him curiously. Soon enough, Philza returned with a clipboard under one arm and a tray of mugs in his hand. He placed two of them in front of Wilbur and Technoblade before placing a third in front of Tommy.
“Hot chocolate.” he explained, smiling kindly at him. Tommy nodded in thanks, pulling the mug closer.
Phil set the clipboard in front of him. “So, Tommy, lets get to know each other a bit. My name is Philza Crafte. These are my sons, Wilbur and Technoblade crafte. They work here as well, as the primary employees - as the owner, I often spend most of my time in the back, working on paperwork, emails, and inventory. If you were to be hired in this position, you’d see me, but you’d mostly be working with these two.”
Tommy nodded in understanding.
“Now you tell us a bit about yourself.”
Tommy took a breath. “I’m Thomas Simons. I - uh, I’m 16.”
Philza nodded. When Tommy seemed to have nothing else to say, he decided to throw him a line. “Do you have a resume with you, by chance?”
With the way Tommy pales, Phil guesses he doesn’t.
“N-No. No I don’t sorry.” Tommy confirms a few seconds later.
Phil smiled kindly. “No worries, it was a bit last minute. I’ll just ask you some questions then.”
Tommy nodded.
“Have you ever worked in a coffee shop before?”
Tommy shook his head. “No,” he said. “This would be my first job, actually.”
Phil nodded and wrote something on his clipboard. Tommy swallowed.
Phil as well as his sons cycled through a list of other questions - where Tommy goes to school (he’s homeschooled) , how well he feels he is at multitasking (Tommy says good, though he isn’t sure). Finally, the interview begins to wrap up, and philza hits Tommy with a final question.
“Okay, last one,” Phil said. He leaned forward and smiled. “What’s your favorite color?”
Tommy blinked, taken aback by such a simple question. “Uh…. I like red,” he supplied. Phil nodded and wrote something else on his clipboard.
“Perfect.” Philza said, slotting his pencil into the top of his clipboard. “Okay Tommy, we’re going to take a few days to talk about it, but we’ll call you back around friday to let you know if you’ve got the position or not.”
Tommy nodded and stood up. He thanked Phil for both the hot chocolate and the interview before taking his leave from the cafe.
The three stood in silence for a few moments as Tommy walked out of sight. Phil turned towards the boys.
“Well, he’s 16 years old, has never worked in a coffee shop before, left the most horrendous voicemail I have ever heard and showed up to his interview without a resume.” He said.
A pause.
“I like him.” Wilbur chimed in, smiling.
000
In the end, they called on Thursday.
“When’s the soonest you can start?”