Chapter Text
Thorfinn really does try to find any other job. Being a barista or whatever the hell they called one of those guys who made coffee wasn’t exactly high on his job options list, but he would rather die than work at Walmart. So, a local cafe with a help wanted sign it was.
He had moved into his apartment only a little bit ago, and his limited savings weren’t going to last long. He was kind of broke right now, honestly. He just knew that Askeladd would laugh in his face if he came crawling back after only two and a half weeks of living alone. Thorfinn had been living with Askeladd(and Bjorn half the time) since he was 13. He was 17 now, and wanted out .
His only other real job options were the McDonalds across the street from his crummy apartment, the Walmart that was a bus stop away, or the quiet little cafe that was at worst a ten minute walk. His ideal goal was to get two jobs, finish high school, and get a better job. Maybe a trade? Something he didn’t have to go into student loan debt but will still make enough money to keep his gym membership and his own apartment that was blissfully away from Askeladd and Bjorn. Bjorn he didn’t mind so much. Askeladd, however, was a different can of worms.
But it was his only his third day working at the coffee shop and he was ready to fucking lose it .
Thorfinn was tired of bitchy customers that always seemed to be in his face, and faulty machines, and the ugly little yellow hat all the employees were mandated to wear. Who did they have to beg to make a custom yellow snapback?
Yesterday, a woman had actually spit in his face. Spit. She claimed that Thorfinn had spit in her drink, and that it was just justice that she pay him back in kind. It took everything Thorfinn had in him to resist the urge to slide over the counter and slap the shit out of her.
Actually, it took all Thorfinn had and Einar, who was probably the only okay part of working there. Einar wasn’t a dick, and he didn’t mind showing Thorfinn how to work the plethora of machines they used over and over again. Seriously, why did he need to know how to work all of them when most of them were never used? Thorfinn couldn’t keep track of them all.
He was in it for the money, though, and wouldn’t back out now. The cafe actually paid above minimum wage, and by more than 50 cents too.
So there he was. He started his third day working after walking there from school. Askeladd had actually asked him if he’d have enough time to do his homework with work and school taking up his day before they both burst into laughter. They were in the car on the way to Thorfinn’s school when it happened, and Askeladd almost had to pull over because of how hard he was laughing. Thorfinn didn’t do his homework either way. His school had some policy that homework wasn’t allowed to be worth more than two points per assignment, so it didn’t add up to much. Most of his teachers didn’t assign it too frequently, which meant Thorfinn could coast on in-class assignments he was forced to do and tests.
Thorfinn pushed through the wooden dark brown doors, glancing at Einar when he greeted him. He didn’t say anything back, and Einar seemed to accept his silence without complaint. Thorfinn walked behind the counter and went straight to the back. He slung his backpack down with a thud and toed it out of the way. For a moment he just stood there, wondering if this was truly the best way to make money. Shit, it wasn’t like he could go back to the mob. Besides, he usually only worked 4 days a weak. His pay was good. His shifts were reasonable. The coworkers he had met so far weren’t dicks. He could do this.
Thorfinn could not do this.
Things had been going fine. It was just before what Einar informed him would be the last rush of the day, and Thorfinn was actually starting to get a hang of the machines. He knew at least a few drink orders from memory by now, too.
Einar had been looking a little rough, though. He was pale, and had a sort of sweaty sheen to his face. Thorfinn had forgot the word. What was it? Feverish? That sounded right. Yeah. Einar was feverish looking. Thorfinn gave him a glance out of the corner of his eye when he stumbled for the first time. Then the second.
He left him alone though. Einar was practically an adult man, he could take care of himself and sit down if he needed it.
But just as he was handing the change back to a customer, Einar hurled. Not even bile or a little bit of liquidy stuff, but full on chunky orange vomit. It sprayed into the sink full of water.
Oh god. He had been washing dishes. There was a sink full of water and vomit and soap and plates.
The other girl, what was her name, Arnheid? had just left under the promise that Einar would cover her shift. Fuck.
That meant it was just Thorfinn, and the weird guy named Snake in the back who he was instructed not to wake unless they were in “the most dire of circumstances.” Einar’s words, not his.
He heard more groaning from behind him and a nothing rushing gush of liquid and the sound it made as it hit the water.
Thorfinn finished shoving the customers change into their hands, and yelled at the next guy in line that he’d be with him in a second. All he saw of him was a flash of long blonde hair and a frown before he was running for the guy in the back.
There was a bit more of kitchen area in the back, a room with shelves piled high with cleaning supplies and extra disposable cups, and a tiny office.
He barged into the office, figuring this was enough of an emergency to wake Snake. Thorfinn shook him by the shoulder. He was sleeping on a shitty little cot in the corner that didn’t even fit all of him on it. Snake grumbled, batting Thorfinn’s hand away.
“Snake! Snake, wake up. I need help in the front. Einar’s puking and looks fucked and Arnheid’s gone for the night.”
He kept shaking, and saw Snake stir underneath him. He watched as he peeled one tired eye open.
“Is the place on fire?” he asked.
“What?”
“I said, is the place on fire. Or did someone get shot again?”
“No, but I need help-“ Thorfinn started to argue.
Snake closed his other eye. “No.”
This bastard! Thorfinn shook him again, practically yelling, “Dick head! I need help! You work here too, right? Get off your ass and help me!”
Snake didn’t even flinch as he rattled the bed underneath him.
Thorfinn knew that that was the look of a man who knew he had won and was not moving.
He stormed out of the office, slamming the door as loud as possible.
Fine. Everything was fine. Thorfinn definitely new how to work all the machines by now. Right. And he totally didn’t need this job and couldn’t afford to be fired. He just had to stay friendly and polite and take and make orders.
Thorfinn walked back behind the counter, and saw Einar on the ground. He had his back against the counter and didn’t look good. Thorfinn winced internally. There was no chance he was getting up and going back to work.
Einar grinned weakly and waved a hand at him. He had his phone loosely gripped in it.
“I called an ride. Sorry. It’ll be here in a couple minutes,” he said.
Thorfinn nodded. “Okay. Get your stuff. I’ll cover.”
Einar thanked him profusely before rising to hobble to the back room where his bag was.
It was at this point that perhaps the second worst part of his evening began. First place, of course, went to his puking coworker. He didn’t even want to think about draining that sink. Second place would be the angry blonde man harrumphing at the counter.
The man was tall and had golden blonde long flowing hair. The stranger was dressed appropriately for the winter weather with a long tan coat and a green scarf that seemed to be unraveling at one end. Disdain practically seeped from him.
He turned to the source of the scoffing. “What do you want?” Thorfinn asked with a scowl. So much for customer service.
The guy stared down at him from under his bangs, and replied, “Oh, I don’t know, my order?”
Thorfinn rolled his eyes. So this is how it was going to go. “Relax princess, we’re a little short on staff at the moment.” Well, if he wasn’t going to play nice, neither was Thorfinn. “What do you want?”
His lip actually quirked with disgust before he answered, “A tall black coffee with a splash of milk, two pumps of raspberry syrup, one pump of caramel, and two pumps of mocha.”
The bitch didn’t even wait for Thorfinn to respond before he was already moving down and out of the way. He was supposed to ask for his name, but oh well. The next guy stepped up and began to rattle off an order longer than his math teacher’s list of marital problems.
All Thorfinn remembered was that first order after that blonde dick bag and the last. He went on autopilot, zoning the fuck out while he worked. He wouldn’t be able to tell you how he made half of those stupid drinks. At some point he must have had to reheat a pastry or something because there was a small burn on his left hand, but it didn’t hurt. It didn’t really alarm him at this point. He regularly zoned out at school, switching to autopilot and snapping back hours later.
Eventually, it was only him left in the coffee shop.
And blondie.
Shit, Thorfinn would have to address him at some point. He leaned over the counter to ask, “Hey, you, what was your weird ass order again?”
He looked up from his phone to glare at him before sliding it into his pocket and marching back over. “Oh, so now you want to serve me? Couldn’t you have made my drink half an hour ago?”
Thorfinn stared at him, face deadpan as he replied, “You didn’t give me a name for your order.”
The guy looked ready to lose it. It would be fucking hilarious if Thorfinn wasn’t already worried about losing his job. He was pretty sure he had just fucked up 97% of the orders he made, and his customer service left a lot to be desired. Maybe if he went through the online reviews of this place and reported any comments about him they’d get taken down before the owner could see them.
Seriously, Thorfinn was pretty sure the guy was vibrating with how pissed he was. It wasn’t intimidating at all though. He may have had like 6 inches inches on Thorfinn, but he looked like he had never even thrown a punch before.
He watched as the guy balled his hands into fists at his side before he responded. “My name is Canute. There? Does that make you happy? Can you make my drink now?”
“Sure thing, princess.” Thorfinn didn’t say anything else before turning to make his drink. It was actually stupid enough that he remembered the exact order. The guy was really starting to piss him off.
It didn’t take very long to get his gross order ready. Then it was time to write his name on the cup. K-A-N-E-W-T. There. It was undeniably Thorfinns favorite part of the job to write their names and egregiously misspell them. In the three days since he had started, Thorfinn had discovered it was the best part about working here.
He turned around and held it out to him.
Canute gingerly took it, trying not to touch Thorfinn’s fingers. Thorfinn just rolled his eyes.
Then, the stranger saw how his name was spelled on his cup.
In Thorfinn’s opinion, the whole night was worth seeing that one moment of pure puzzlement turn into rage on his face. He watched as his face turned red, bright pink splotches creeping up his high cheekbones. His pale lips curled back into an outraged snarl and his eyebrows rose far enough under his bangs that Thorfinn could no longer see them. Oh yes. This made his night much better.
Canute slammed his drink down into the counter, rotating it to ensure that the misspelling of his name was facing Thorfinn.
“What does this say.” His voice was flat, but Thorfinn could tell he was going to snap.
He leaned forward so he was just close to enough to Canute that it would be uncomfortable for the stranger. He smirked. “What do you think it says?”
Thorfinn had just enough time to see the other’s eyes open fractionally wider before he noticed his hand, fist open, hurtling towards his face. Well, Thorfinn could say he started it then.
He dove over the counter and knocked Canute over. Then they were rolling on the floor, scratching and elbowing and yanking on hair, doing no real damage to each other physically. On the other hand, much dignity would be lost as they twisted and struggled on the ground.
As Canute raked his long nails down Thorfinn’s arms, he reached to pull on a section of long blonde hair, earning a resulting yelp. Canute managed to bring his knee up to thrust into his gut. He lost his breath for just a second before he was rolling them over and over. He finally stopped with him on top of Canute.
Thorfinn had his arms pinned down at his sides as he sat on top of him. Damn. That gym membership really had been worth keeping, he thought as he panted lightly.
Canute was flushed pink in the face under him, his reddened lips tilting into an angry pout. They both jumped a little when Canute’s phone began to buzz. Thorfinn only pushed him down when he tried to sit up to see who it was.
Once Thorfinn saw who it was though, Canute had no trouble pushing him off.
Of course. Of course this was his fucking luck.
He had just gotten into a glorified cat fight with Canute Sweynson, son of Sweyn Sweynson. Owner of the coffee shop he worked at. In other words, the head of the multinational cafe chain corporation that had locations across the globe and was essentially the world’s most famous coffee shop.
All Thorfinn could do was stare dumbly at him as he picked up the call from his father. He watched as Canute nodded several times while whispering an affirmation to whatever his father said. It wasn’t a long call.
Canute slipped his phone back into his pocket, still sitting on the ground. He looked just as stupefied as Thorfinn felt.
Without a word, he stood and began to walk over to the counter. He kept his chin tilted high and his eyes up, not even sparing a glance to look at Thorfinn. He grabbed his cup, turned on his heel, and went out the door.
What the fuck.