Chapter Text
It should go without saying that Mostro Lounge was Azul Ashengrotto's magnum opus. To run such a successful and bustling cafe—on, volatile , campus grounds like NRC no less—could've brought tears to his octo-parents' eyes.
Well, not like Mama and Papa Ashengrotto would ever get caught with tears in their eyes. Tarnishes their credibility, makes them look weak in future business negotiations and whatnot.
Anyway, Azul utilised every bit of his natural savvy to make the Lounge as profitable and well-run as possible. He personally kept tabs on the rent and other overhead payments, made sure the necessary legal permits were up to date, analysed food costs to keep up with inflation and everything else under the sea to ensure he could squeeze out every Thaumark possible. Despite not being that much of a connoisseur, he even personally tested the menu every now and then. After all, what is an eatery without its food? Its cooks?
Azul let out a sigh, drumming a pen against his desk.
The cooks…
No matter what trick he pulled out of his sly sleeves, no matter how many Thaumarks he offered, exclusive employee benefits or wishes…
…he could not get Jamil Viper to work for him.
It was no secret that Azul had a special interest to the long-haired Vice Housewarden. To the students, it wasn't unusual to see the merman clinging behind Jamil and Kalim in between classes talking about something or the other. One might liken him to a remora, with Jamil being the shark he's trying to butter up.
"Now, if you would be so interested as to–"
"I'm not," snapped Jamil, focusing his eyes on navigating the busy hallways and trying not to get smacked in the face by a flailing limb.
"How do you guys even cook underwater?" Kalim al-Asim interrupted with glee. Azul's cordial smile faltered for the smallest of moments.
"Like, back in the Coral Sea, how do you make fires and stuff? Do you even use fires? Wait, I can't remember if I asked that before… but could you tell me again?" His crimson eyes were positively glistening, begging for anything to satiate his child-like curiosity. In most situations, Jamil would butt in with a "This is not the time" or "You can ask them later". However, he kept mum and held a barely noticeable smile on his face.
The recollections of his past attempts to win over Jamil haunted Azul to no end. Mostro Lounge had already been closed up for the day, the employees gone back to their respective dorms and whatnot, so there was no reason for him to still be alone in his office.
Apart from to brood.
How ironic. Jamil being so smart is both why I want him, and why he doesn't want me.
But I just can't stop imagining him as the head chef of Mostro Lounge. How many times has he succumbed to Kalim's childish whims involving massive impromptu parties, and still managed to produce food worthy of fine dining?
The Scalding Sands's cuisine would be more than welcome in our kitchen. The soft, intricate and delicate flavours of the Coral Sea would be pristine if juxtaposed by his culture's more bombastic tastes.
Not to mention his time management and immense patience. With Floyd now taking more and more shifts, he'll need those skills so that he won't end up stabbing him in the chest every lunch hour.
Azul's inner monologue was stopped by the sound of block-heeled shoes clunking against the floor from opposite his office door. The footsteps then turned into knocks.
"Come in," he beckoned lazily. The door opened with a tiny creak, revealing a familiar tall figure. "What's the matter? Why aren't you back in your room?"
Jade Leech stood in the doorway, unmoving. His signature polite expression stood plastered on his face like it always did. To other members of the student body, it could mean anything from genuine warmth to visceral murderous intent.
All Azul needed was a quick glance to immediately facepalm.
"For the last time, I am NOT in love with Jamil!"
Jade's smile got even wider, revealing his trademark sharp teeth. "Never did I say anything about love, dearest Azul. All Floyd and I have mentioned so far is simply a crush."
"Crush, love, whatever it may be"—his wild gesticulations had pushed his glasses askew—"my interests in him are all business! I do not need you or your twin brother's expert analysis telling me what I feel."
"All business, you say? If I may comment—"
"You may not."
"See? You're already acting like him. As I was saying, business is already booming at the Lounge. We'll be reaching record profit margins if we continue on at even half this pace. I even saw Idia Shroud of all people coming here to enjoy our new ramen options. With our scheduled Valentine's-themed menu coming in a few weeks, pardon me if I find it just a bit curious how you're still bending over backwards for Jamil's signature."
Azul straightened back his glasses and took a deep breath. A very deep one. Inside, he was cursing Jade to suffer for one thousand years in boiling water.
"I have my reasons."
"I'm sure you do," Jade replied courteously through a wicked smile. He took a small bow. "If there's nothing else, I'll go make myself scarce. Good night, Housewarden." With that, the door closed with a barely audible thud.
Azul scoffed.
A crush? Ridiculous.
__________
I'd kill someone for a good 8 hours of sleep. Hell, I'd even settle their funeral arrangements for 10.
Violent fantasies like these were usual in the Viper's internal monologue. In fact, this was one of his more uplifting ones. It was what helped him cope with the absolute banality of some of his chores.
It was the same old tale of woe for Jamil. His royal highness Kalim needed clothes for the rest of the week and could not be trusted at all with folding his own damn shirts and trousers, much less use a piping hot iron to de-wrinkle them. The millionth reminder of Kalim's helplessness was setting him off. Jamil was always grumpy, but late night Jamil?
"You USELESS fucking piece of–"
Before he could throw the ironing board out the window and into the sand dunes, he shut his eyes, fist clenched by his sides. He breathed in. He breathed out. Multiple times.
…okay, just one more cardigan and I can send all this to his room and be done with for the night.
He glanced over to his left. Never had a properly made bed looked so inviting. The lavender-scented sheets, silky smooth pillows, warm blankets to ward away the cold of Scarabia's nights…
With haste, he waved goodbye to comfort for a few moments as he began the short walk to the Housewarden's room with all his clothes. When he was before the grandiose door, he turned the knob with his shoulder (just one of the many tricks up his sleeve) and was greeted by the sight of a certain someone.
Awake.
"Kalim. You're not asleep." The carefree boy was lying stomach down on his massive curtained bed, feet swaying about. In his hands was a shiny new handheld gaming device, no doubt from his parents. Click-clack click-clack his fingers went without a single care in the world that Jamil had walked within a few feet of him. It's a wonder how no one had succeeded in assassinated him, he thought.
"Hm?" mused the royal as his servant was finally within throat-slitting distance. "Oh, Jami! Didn't realise ya came in!" His tone lowered after noticing Jamil's eyes getting narrower. "Oh yeah… just, got distracted by this little thing here, heheh. I'll go to sleep after a level or two. Or thr–"
" One level."
Shaking his head, Jamil went to open the wardrobe to hang all the uniforms that had been pressed in order. School uniform, dorm uniform, PE uniform, extra PE uniform in case he fell off his broom and dirtied them, pyjamas…
"Jami? I know it's late and all and you get really scary when it's night. I mean, heheh, you're always scary but like, it's even scarier when–" Kalim cleared his throat– "Anyway, I kinda wanted to talk to you about a little something?"
Unless there was news that he could finally be rid of the Asim family and NRC to go travel the world in solitude, he doubted it would do anything to his spirits. But as the faithful, obedient servant he was forced to be, he lended an ear. "What?"
"About Azul…"
"Ugh, what does that barnacle in human form want? To leech me dry of my already limited time and energy? Oh, let me guess, he wants to trick me with yet another one of his slimy contracts? I wonder what sick twisted form of satisfaction he gets from having me work under him? Does the prospect of being my superior please him?" Jamil's agitation caused him to aggressively bang the hangers into the wardrobe, making it sound like it was pelting down rain from outside. Any louder and they'd be in hailstorm territory.
Kalim went up from his lying down position to criss-cross applesauce, game paused. An uncharacteristically cautious look was strewn across his face. With a deep breath, he began.
"So I kinda talked with Lilia when we were hanging ou–I mean, practicing , during our club meeting. Cater was there too. We were just talking about random stuff, you know? Lils was talking about Silver like he was his dad as usual, Cater was spilling some Magicam tea, and the convo kinda shifted to… you?"
Jamil paused for a split second. He wasn't too fussed about the fact that people talked about him, even when it was on the topic of how distant he was or how handsome he supposedly looked. He really didn't care. However, his interest was slightly piqued at the fact that Kalim felt whatever they were talking about was important enough to report back to him. And that apparently Ashengrotto had something to do with it.
"Go on," said Jamil, curiousity hidden under the veneer of mild disinterest.
"He… talks about you a lot."
He rolled his gray eyes. "By the Seven, tell me something that I don't already know."
"Well, Cater… well, I'm not sure how much of an expert on this sorta stuff he is." Kalim chuckled dryly. "But he said that when someone talks a lot about someone, and I mean a LOT lot, it kinda means something, you know?"
"I know what it means," Jamil rebutted, looking directly at Kalim now. "It means that Azul wants to make as much money under any means necessary and will continue to pester his most valuable potential asset, me , until he gets exactly what he wants. That's what your wonderful Cater said, right?"
"He said that Azul might like you."
Jamil burst into a coughing fit, dropping a bundle of clothes from his arms in the process. Kalim's school and PE uniform crumpled onto the ground in a heaping mess. The hangers on them clattered down making all sorts of unpleasant stinging sounds as Jamil tried his hardest to regain the ability to breathe properly. His vision was filled with scattered grains of black and white all over, making it look like he had his eyes glued to TV static. " ACK-ACK-COUGH Azul!?!? Liking me !?!? Is Cater out of his mind?" the usually composed Vice sputtered out. He was doing his absolute hardest to stop sounding like he was coughing up a kidney stone.
The boy on his bed, lighthearted as he could be, was absolutely petrified at his servant's reaction. His mouth was agape and moving, yet no words came out. After seeing Jamil finally stop coughing and clear his throat while fixing up his hoodie and hair, Kalim snapped out of his awe-stricken trance.
"Um… y-yeah… okay, maybe Azul doesn't like you–"
"Tell Cater to stop reading that slop on MagicTok they call novels," Jamil interrupted, glare hot enough to burn a hole, tone more serious than cancer. Kalim opened his mouth again to say something but was immediately shushed by a distant finger from Jamil. "This is what happens when you stay up late. You end up saying ignorant things like this. Shut off that console and go to sleep. Now. "
Surrendering (more out of worry for Jamil than fear at this point), the boy pulled his sheets up while his servant reached for the light switch. After switching it off and having a quick peek to make sure Kalim didn't immediately go back up, Jamil took the short walk back to his room. It should've been a routine, empty walk with nothing tacked on, but life was never that simple was it?
What the hell was that about? Who in the right mind would think that Azul has any sort of romantic interest in me? Why would a cunning bastard like him even entertain the thought of silly crushes? There's nothing more under the surface to his endless attempts at getting me to work at Mostro Lounge. Nothing. By the Seven, we're not even compatible in the slightest. There's absolutely nothing that ties us two together. Heh, just for amusement's sake, I might as well try and think of what we do have in common. Let's see…
Jamil went to his bed and took off his hoodie. Staring at the ceiling snug underneath his covers, he started to ponder, finally in a position to rest after all the bullshit he's had to muddy his hands with for the day.
…
But then he froze. His eyes popped wide open like he'd seen a genie.
No, no… what the fuck is all this? Ach, intrusive thoughts, that's what. Perfectly normal in the human psyche. Definitely.
With a turn of his body and a hug of his pillow, he shook off whatever his mind was trying to pull on him and went to sleep. But not before scoffing.
A crush? Ridiculous.