Chapter Text
It’s only been fifteen minutes, but Lukas Fischer can already feel himself zoning out.
There’s this guy -- Adam Franke -- who’s been onboarding him to work at the cafe of some sports club and he’s been droning on and on about the importance of consistent sweeping.
He’s never worked as a barista before, but Lukas had figured it’d be easy enough to learn as he goes. Memorize the drink ratios, get the hang of how to work the register, try to keep his fuck ups to a minimum -- simple and easy-
And yet.
“-so for the most efficient mopping, you’re going to need to hold the mop at a forty-five degree angle with the bristles out. I like to go in straight lines to make sure I don’t miss any areas of the floor, but regardless, there are some tight spaces. In that case, I’ll grab a-”
‘Fuck, just throw me into oncoming traffic.’
Lukas isn't entirely sure why he had applied for this job. It had seemed like a good idea at the time -- when he turned in his resume two hours past midnight, half-delirious and a little tipsy.
He’ll only need to work as a temporary employee, scheduled for three weeks as a barista for the headquarters of a popular German sports club. He’s a student studying creative writing and his university will be on break for the next few weeks anyway. It’ll be good to have some pocket change and maybe, he could save up enough to get a new laptop that actually stayed on without needing to be constantly charged.
He probably should have walked away when he’d had his interview with the cafe manager, Frieda Scholz. She’d been annoyed and impatient, aggressively tapping away at a notepad with her pen. Apparently her usual employees, Adam included, had all planned a vacation to Japan together and having to arrange the schedule to account for their absences left her moments away from a monumental crash out.
The interview lasted about five minutes before he got the job offer. And she’d spent most of that time ranting.
But he should try and make the most of it now that he’s here, awake before the sun, exhaustion blurring most of his thoughts, slow blinking with each word Adam says-
‘This is already a terrible fucking idea. Way to go, Lukas.’
Lukas glances at the other temps standing next to him. There’s three of them and they all look just as lost as he feels. Well, except one of them: a woman who hasn’t bothered looking up once from her phone.
Finally, miraculously, against all odds, Adam pauses.
“Are there any questions regarding my cleaning schedule?” he asks after a beat of silence. “I have a binder filled with all of my prep lists, task guides, and schedules which you can refer to.”
Lukas tries not to give him a blank look, but he’s pretty sure that he fails spectacularly.
Without looking up, the woman on her phone says, “We’re not going to get fired if we don’t do all that, right? Like we’re all temps anyway or whatever.”
Lukas can vaguely hear Adam muttering under his breath. “Keep it together, Franke, keep it together. Remember what Anna said: don’t sweat the small stuff. Do not sweat the small stuff.”
Adam’s attractive… in an intense, creepy sort of way. But the only thing Lukas can focus on is the judgement in those dusty, gray eyes.
He lets out a heavy sigh before continuing to speak.
“One last thing,” Adam starts, an edge to his voice that makes a chill run down Lukas’ spine. The temps all sit up straighter. The woman that’s had her eyes glued to her phone actually throws a glance in their direction. “No one, and I mean absolutely no one, is allowed to touch this.”
He’s pointing to a huge poster of some athlete wearing the number eight on his back. It looks out of place given the cozy and warm atmosphere of the cafe area, but Lukas doesn’t say anything.
“This is a signed poster of the Alexis Ness. It’s my most prized possession in the world. If anything happens to it, you will not like what happens to you.”
The temps nod slowly. Lukas keeps his hands firmly at his side and tries to ignore the drop of sweat falling down his brow.
Adam smiles. “Good. I’ll take my leave. If I don’t leave now, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to bring myself to and I need to meet the girls at the airport,” he says, slinging his bag over his shoulder and turning to leave. “If you have any questions, anything at all, I left my phone number next to the croissants. You could also ask Frieda, but- actually, just call me.”
The door to the cafe closes behind him with what can only be described as an ominous thud.
One of his fellow temps turns to him. She’s small as a button, with short choppy bangs and expressive eyes that are currently filled with confusion. “Did you get any of that?”
Another temp, a man with an awkward smile and broad shoulders, blurts out, “Absolutely not.”
Lukas shrugs. “Maybe half of it,” he responds, and after watching her nerves overtake her expression, adds, “But I think we’ll be fine. We can learn as we go.”
He turns to the fourth and last temp, a woman with silky, dark hair down to her waist who’s still tapping away at her phone and ignoring them completely.
The sun is slowly beginning to rise, rays of light dancing through the windows. The cafe smells sweet from the pastries cooked that very morning. Alexis Ness’ ginormous face is looming over them.
It’s making some coffee and heating up some sandwiches. How hard can it possibly be?
“Yeah, we’ll be fine.”
***
Their first day -- fuck, their first morning -- is a disaster of epic proportions and it’s all thanks to the men’s chess team that Adam may or may not have warned them about.
It’s a group of over a dozen guys, all with the most peculiar orders that they are very particular about, who have just been hanging out in the back of the cafe taking up space for hours. Worse, an hour in, they took out their chess boards and they’ve been yelling about fuck all ever since.
They are decidedly not fine.
Frieda walks in at noon, gives them a severe warning glance, and walks right back out the doors.
“We were totally set up to fail,” Lukas mutters as he makes busy cleaning the counters. “Fuck this place.”
The other male temp, Wagner, nods in agreement. When they all introduced themselves, he insisted on going by his last name, refusing to even mention his given name. “Frieda should have hired us at the beginning of the week. That way we’d have at least a few days to shadow the regular employees before being left to fend for ourselves.”
“And that would also require paying us for an extra week,” the woman with choppy bangs, Ingrid Klein, replies darkly. She gives her head a little shake. “In better news, I think I finally understand all the settings on the coffee machine.”
Wagner blinks, mouth dropping open in awe. “Really? You did?”
“Yes.” The coffee machine made a strange whining noise as it began to shake. “Okay, maybe not.”
“Shame,” Lukas says, tutting. He glances around before asking, “Hey, where did Karoline go?”
Karoline Kessel is the fourth and final temp, and Lukas is pretty sure he hasn’t seen her lift a single finger to help since getting here. A part of him wants to call her out on it, especially considering how swamped the morning rush had been, but a bigger part of him wants to do his job, get paid, and get out without causing anymore unnecessary drama.
Wagner rolls his eyes. “The bathroom, I think. She’s been there for over an hour.”
Ingrid groans and also begins smacking the coffee machine. “Should we tell the manager? What was her name- Frieda?”
Lukas answers, “I don’t really want to bring any more of her attention onto us.”
They both pause for a moment to consider this and then nod in agreement.
The door to the cafe opens as another team walks in.
‘Surely, they cannot be as annoying as that fucking chess team. Right? Right?’
The second thought Lukas has is that they’re tall. Broad shoulders and muscular legs. Strong frames wrapped tightly in some kind of uniform. Lukas has always considered himself pretty tough, but he feels like a twig just watching them walk towards the counter. With a powerful presence like that, they’ve got to be some kind of professional athletes.
It’s then that it hits him:
‘Oh, right… I’m working at a sports club… kind of forgot about that…’
“What sport do you think they play?” Wagner whispers his question. “I don’t really follow any sports.”
Ingrid purses her lips, tilting her head as she analyzes their newest customers. “Handball, maybe?” When the first athlete approaches, she puts her game face on and starts taking orders.
There’s one guy in particular who stands out to Lukas. Given his appearance, it’d be difficult for him not to stand out. Blond hair fading into blue, a large rose tattoo right on his neck with vines wrapping around his arm, and a looming presence that takes up the whole room. He’s standing behind the rest of his -- handball? -- team, slightly hunched over with his hands fisted in his pockets. He’s got a scowl marring his attractive face, and darkened eyes glaring holes through the windows.
For a moment, they make eye contact, and a chill goes down Lukas’ spine.
“Coffee. Black,” he mutters as he steps forward.
His teammate, a man with long, curling hair and expressive eyes, puts his hand over his heart. “Fret not, Kaiser. Just as the sun sets on the horizon every evening, and the world continues to turn each day, time will continue to pass. Each day marks one step closer to love! And each day is an opportunity for-”
“Give it a rest, Grim,” another player cuts in.
Another nods. “Yeah, just leave him alone for the next few weeks.”
“Bother. Bother.”
A man with brown and purple hair -- wait, why does that look so familiar? -- offers, “Would you like for me to get you anything else?”
Kaiser ignores him, moving to stand next to the end of the counter to receive his drink.
As Lukas warms up a sandwich for one of the handball players, he spots it out of the corner of his eye -- Adam’s poster.
“You’re Alexis Ness!” Lukas blurts out.
‘Fuck, that felt like such an Adam move.’
He smiles. “I am. Are you new?” He glances behind the counter to everyone’s scrambling forms and flustered energy. Even though the coffee machine is only half-working, Wagner and Ingrid have been beasts at cranking out orders. Apparently, Wagner had a part-time job at a coffee shop last summer. And Ingrid is just very determined, seemingly running on pure spite against the coffee machine. Still, it’s been difficult given Frieda’s decision about their onboarding. “Actually, I don’t think I recognize anyone; where are the usual baristas?”
“We’re all just temps, it’s our first day working here,” Lukas feels the need to defend. “The regular workers are all on vacation together. They left for Japan today, I think.”
An unreadable expression crosses Kaiser’s face.
Grim waves his arms around. “Alas, love is so beautiful! The way we recognize it in everything. Just the word-”
“Give it a rest, Grim!” A chorus of voices echo.
“Hope the first day hasn’t been too stressful,” a player with dark skin and delicate features says politely. “If you ever need a break and want something to do, we practice on the field just around the corner.”
A player sitting across from his laughs lightly. “One of the perks of working here. You get a decent amount of free access.”
“And you think your soccer practices are good enough to entertain us?” A voice replies, high-pitched and soft. Lukas whips his head around.
Karoline is standing right behind him, smiling syrupy sweet, but eyes narrowed. If Lukas didn’t know any better, he’d say she’s trying to flirt, but it seems more like she’s trying to mess with them.
The athlete shoots back, “Come to one of our practices and find out.”
They’re able to take everyone’s orders without anything going horribly wrong -- though the coffee machine does start smoking a little. Lukas even chats a bit more with Ness, who seems like a completely normal and kind individual. Kaiser still hasn’t said another word, choosing to stand at the edge of the room, scowling into his drink. At least that other guy, Grim, has left him alone, now choosing to recite poetry to the rest of the team.
Once there’s a lull in conversation and no more drinks to be made, Lukas whispers his question to Karoline, “Do you follow soccer? No offense, but I wouldn’t have guessed that.”
Karoline scoffs, definitely offended. “Obviously not. Nothing sounds more boring to me.”
Lukas furrows his eyebrows and asks, “Then how did you know they’re soccer players?”
Karoline subtly points at Kaiser, and then leans forward and lets out a quiet whistle, cold air brushing against Lukas’ ear. “He’s got a cute butt, so he’s got to be a soccer player.”
Wagner tilts his head forward, eavesdropping. “Really? That’s your tell?”
Karoline rolls her eyes dramatically as she steps back. “You people can’t recognize soccer players when you see one? What kind of Germans are you?”
A part of Lukas wants to protest, but she’s right. He’s just never been a sporty guy; sure, he goes to the gym once or twice a week, but that’s the extent of it. Things like writing and gaming have always appealed to him more. His brothers are all obsessed with soccer, but as much as they talk about it, he’s never really picked up on it. He hadn’t even bothered mentioning that he’d be located at a sports club headquarters when he got the temp gig -- which, now that he thinks about it, is something he should probably remedy.
But now that he’s here, actually meeting these famous athletes, surrounded with all this high energy, a part of him feels inquisitive. Especially considering that it looks like most people who work here are fans themselves in some capacity, and any time he talks to anyone outside the other temps, it feels like he’s missing half the conversation due to his lack of knowledge.
So he’s a little curious.
And that lick of curiosity burns through him, hot enough that the next words passing from his lips are: “Know anything about that guy? Kaiser? What’s his deal?”
Karoline looks at him like he’s an idiot. “How should I know? He’s hot and he’s probably not a terrible soccer player if he’s signed with BM.”
Wagner blinks. “Uh- BM? What’s that?”
At this point, it looks as though Karoline’s moments away from flipping her luscious hair over her shoulder and strangling Wagner with her bare hands. “It’s an abbreviation for Bastard München. You know, the place where you’re working, moron.”
“The place where we’re working,” Ingrid chips in from where she’s washing the copious amounts of cups Wagner used when making lattes. “And speaking of working, does anyone want to help me here?”
A pause. “I need to use the restroom,” Karoline states and walks out before any of them can protest.
Lukas’ eyes shift back to Kaiser, who looks as though he’s moments away from shattering his coffee cup in the strong grip of his hand.
‘Thank fuck this job only lasts three weeks.’
***
Over the course of the next week, Lukas Fischer learns four things: making coffee is way more complicated than he had thought possible, Adam was right about that best angle to sweep at when cleaning, he should never make another decision after midnight again, and Michael Kaiser is an absolutely terrifying bastard.
Honestly, Lukas isn’t sure what’s up with the guy.
After a few days of working here, he’s picked up on a little bit more about his employer; Bastard München is one of the most popular sports clubs in Europe, and standing at the top of their popularity is their men’s soccer team. Of which, Michael Kaiser is the face of.
And some other guy.
‘Fuck, what’s his name again? It’s right on the tip of my tongue. That one customer said it a few times… Usagi or something?’
With fame, talent, popularity, and money all under his belt, Lukas would assume the soccer star would be happier, but he comes into the cafe acting as though the world is ending.
Lukas has overheard his teammates, Ness and a few others he can’t remember the names of, trying to talk to him, but he just brushes them off. Something about practice going back to normal in a few weeks, or someone being fine -- Lukas doesn’t really understand.
When he finally texted his brothers that he’s working at the Bastard München headquarter’s cafe, they’d sent a barrage of text messages his way, scolding him for not telling them sooner, and insisting that he get Michael Kaiser’s autograph. Which Lukas feels way too terrified to ask him for. Just the thought sends a shiver down his spine.
Maybe he’ll ask whenever Kaiser stops staring at him like he’s about to push him into oncoming traffic whenever he orders his black coffee.
Lukas is deep in thought as he sweeps, pondering over how he might potentially ask for Kaiser’s autograph without getting his spine ripped out, when he opens the door to the cafe.
He being one of the cutest men that Lukas has ever seen.
The man’s got big, blue eyes framed by long lashes and half-covered by flowing black bangs. He’s dressed in baggier, more comfortable clothes, but they suit him, making him appear smaller and more endearing. His left leg is wrapped up in a brace, leaning most of his weight on his other leg as he opens the door.
And he’s got this cute little sprout at the top of his head.
‘It was all worth it. This temp job has fucking killed me and sent me to heaven.’
Ingrid rushes over to hold the door open for him, and he receives the gesture with a grateful smile. “Thank you, I’m still getting used to moving around like this,” he says with a chuckle, voice warm and light.
Ingrid blushes something fierce as she waves off his gratitude. “It’s no problem, sir! Happy to help in any way I can.”
The man with the sprout on his head glances around as he makes his way towards the counter. “Are you all working here? I’m not sure if I’ve seen your faces before.”
“We’re just temps,” Lukas explains the situation for what feels like the hundredth time; the regular employees must be popular with the customers if they’re so easily missed. He sets the broom aside and goes to wash his hands. “But don’t worry, at this point, we know everything they know. Adam was very thorough.”
It’s a lie, but whatever. He’s already made his way to heaven.
“So what can I get for you?” Ingrid starts to take his order.
“White tea, please,” Sprout answers, “in a to-go cup.” Wagner begins making the drink; it’s a simple enough one, thankfully. They’ve all had enough of the complicated drinks the men’s chess team insists on ordering -- except for Karoline, who Lukas is pretty sure has yet to make a drink. Though after a few days, it’s been easy enough to ignore the presence of the chess team as they take up space in their normal corner.
Karoline silently approaches from behind him, and he tries to stifle his fearful twitch when she whispers in his ear, “Who is that? I call dibs.”
Lukas frowns and whispers back, “You can’t just call dibs, Karoline.”
Sprout nervously brushes his hand through his hair and says, “Actually, would it be possible to ask you guys for a favor?”
“Sure, whatever you need!” Ingrid responds quickly.
Karoline adds with a smirk, leaning on Lukas’ shoulder, “Yeah, whatever you need.”
Sprout doesn’t hear Karoline’s added remark, too busy pulling something out of the bag slung over his shoulder. Lukas and Ingrid lean closer to take a peek.
Held in Sprout’s hands is what may be the cutest bento box that Lukas has ever seen. It’s disposable, but decorated with rose stickers and blue hearts, and the aroma coming off of it smells amazing. A part of Lukas wants to reach over the counter and grab it, and maybe kiss Sprout’s hand in thanks while he’s at it.
“I want to give this to Mih- uh, I want to give this to Kaiser,” Sprout admits, his cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink.
Horrifying flashes of the future appear in Lukas’ mind.
Sprout’s sweet smile as he hands Kaiser his thoughtfully made bento box, filled with homemade food and a loving note. Kaiser’s terrifying scowl as he grabs the bento box and breaks it between his fingers. The devastation in Sprout’s expression as his blue eyes fill with tears.
The thought of having to witness such a sight is almost too much to bear.
‘Maybe I should just let Kaiser throw me into oncoming traffic and end all my troubles.’
Lukas makes eye contact with Ingrid and sees an equally horrified expression on her face. He can hear Wagner, who is finishing up Sprout’s drink, pause and tense up.
Karoline is grinning which is also a bit scary.
Sprout doesn’t notice as he moves to set the bento box down on the counter.
“Oh, you must really like this guy,” Karoline says, pinching her lips together in an effort to hide her giggling.
Sprout laughs. “You could say that,” he responds with a smile, “but please don’t tell him I said that. Or anyone else for that matter.”
‘Wait. Oh, shit- fuck. Is this guy trying to hide his stalking or something?’
Sprout continues, “I know the team normally eats lunch here on Thursdays, but my physical therapy’s the same hour as their lunch break, so I thought I’d just leave it here. Would you be able to give it to him?”
‘Oh, fuck. Just how long has this guy been stalking Michael Kaiser?! Well… it’s a good thing he’s so cute…’
Ingrid stutters, “Um- uh, well-”
Karoline grabs the bento box. “Leave it to me!” She says with a wide smile, green eyes sparkling.
Sprout thanks them as Wagner hands him his drink. Lukas helps him to the door and opens it, ignoring the charged energy being exuded from all the temps behind him.
***
They spend what feels like hours arguing over what they should do.
‘This temp job feels like it’s never going to fucking end. Sprout took heaven with him.’
“We can’t just give the bento box to Kaiser!” Wagner insists, a panicked edge to his voice. His eyes are darting around the room as though Kaiser will just magically pop into existence and strangle him.
Ingrid nods her head. “Even if it’s only our first week, we still have to act responsibly. It doesn’t matter how cute he is.” She glares at Karoline. “Why didn’t you consult us before agreeing?”
Karoline rolls her eyes. “Trust me, it is not that dire.”
“I hate to agree with Karoline, but what’s the harm?” Lukas asks.
She huffs. “Excuse me?”
Lukas puts his hands up in surrender. “I’m just saying!” He thinks of the man with a cute sprout on his head and an even cuter smile. “He’s a sweet, adorable, innocent looking guy. Even if what he’s doing is a little weird, what’s the harm in indulging him?”
“He was so cute,” Karoline says with a smirk. “And imagine all the drama. I want to see Kaiser’s reaction when we hand him that bento box.”
“And it’s better that we give it to him,” Lukas adds. “That way, when Kaiser responds poorly, Sprout won’t be there to see it. And then we can let him down easy.”
“… Sprout?”
Wagner throws his hands in the air. “Listen, I’m the only one here with actual experience working at a cafe-”
“Part-time, for one summer.”
“-and you should never give food to a customer that you haven’t handled yourself. Especially from a complete stranger. It’s a huge liability!”
“You didn’t even know what Bastard München was until a few days ago,” Karoline shoots back. “You don’t know anything, dumbass.”
Wagner scowls, hunching his shoulders. “Don’t call me a dumbass! You don’t know me like that.”
Karoline stares him straight in the eyes. “Dumbass.”
And after all of that, they all come to the same conclusion:
“We should call Adam.”
Karoline’s phone finally becomes useful for once as she puts in Adam’s digits. He picks up on the first ring.
“Wow, you sure picked up fast,” Lukas says and then his manners catch up to him. “Uh- hey, Adam! It’s the temps working at the cafe. We met a few days ago.”
Karoline pushes him away from her phone and adds with a judgemental tone, “On the first ring -- don’t you have anything better to do? You’re on vacation, right?”
“Hey, rude!” Ingrid admonishes. Karoline has an easy time ignoring her.
“Time zone difference. I’m getting ready to sleep,” Adam states, voice slightly staticky, and without an inch of offense. “What’s wrong? Did something happen to the poster? Is the cafe on fire?”
“No, why would the cafe be on fire?” Wagner asks, baffled. Ingrid looks around in concern; Lukas finds that to be reasonable considering her ongoing war with the coffee machine.
“What’s going on then?” Adam responds. “Was my binder not able to help?”
Karoline sighs heavily. “This isn’t something your stupid binder can help with. Wagner’s being unreasonable and won’t let us give this cute guy’s bento box to Kaiser.”
A static noise. “… Huh?”
“Earlier today, this guy came in who’s a fan of Kaiser, and who may or may not be a stalker, but he’s really cute,” Lukas explains. “Anyway, he gave us this bento box to give to Kaiser. Now we’re all arguing about what we should do with it.”
“It’s a liability, right?” Wagner calls out loudly because Karoline’s shielding her phone from him.
“You didn’t recognize this guy, right? He’s just a fan?” Adam asks after a moment, and when they all give noises of affirmation, he says, “Oh no, not good.”
Ingrid raises an eyebrow. “Why?”
“If someone’s trying to hit on Kaiser-” All the temps look at each other as strange crashing noises blast through the phone. “-He won’t be receptive-” More crashing noises. “Kaiser is-”
A new voice sounds out from the phone, higher pitched and snarling. “Listen here, temps. This is Heidi, I’m another regular. You better not let some scheming harlot get in the way of my ship, you got that?”
Loud noises of agreement sound out from across the phone.
‘Ship? Are we shipping something? I don’t fucking get it.’
Adam takes the phone back. “I can’t really say more, but try to let this guy down as gently as possible.”
Karoline groans. “You people are no fun. We can’t even give him the bento box?”
“Wagner is right about it being a liability. What if it was poisoned or laced with something?” Adam admonishes them before saying more insistently. “Or worse. What if it was poisoned, and Kaiser then decided to share some of it with Alexis Ness?”
Karoline huffs. “Well, what if we tell him we’re not giving Kaiser the bento box and he does something drastic?”
“Let him down gently,” Adam repeats.
“Whatever,” she grumbles. Lukas has a feeling that definitely isn’t the last of that.
Adam continues, “Besides that, is everything going well-”
Karoline hangs up with a click. Lukas’ eyes widen and the temps begin to protest.
She gives them a deadpan stare. “Does anyone want to risk staying on the phone with him for the next hour while he talks about organization?” Silence. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
Behind him, Lukas hears shuffling as, perfectly timed, the Bastard München men’s soccer team walks in. His eyes immediately go to Kaiser, whose intense expression is piercing holes into everything he glances at, and whose scowl makes Lukas want to run far, far away.
The problem of the bento box really only has a few solutions. If they give it to Kaiser, he’ll surely tear it apart and stomp all over Sprout’s genuine efforts and admiration. But not giving it and telling that fact to Sprout will be devastating.
Either way, he really isn’t looking forward to breaking poor Sprout’s heart.