Chapter Text

Flame could kinda use the money.

It’s not like he’s broke, by any means, his parents already pay for his tuition, but Flame doesn’t want to burden them anymore with his living costs. It’s really why he asks for the job in the first place. He’s grown enough to be able to handle himself. And it’s just a cafe job, so how hard can it really be? Flame squints at the coffee machines he’s presented with. “Just make a simple macchiato.” is what he’s told. 

What the hell is a macchiato? Flame stares at the buttons like they might give him all the answers he needs. He only knows he’s in charge of making some drinks. The job description and interview didn’t even ask him that many questions about his ability to make said drink, or how much knowledge he had at all. It was kind of a scuffed interview, but it puts money into his pocket, so Flame has no complaints at all. 

“Uhh.. Bro? Am… I supposed to know what that is?” Flame turns, staring at the manager who’d hired him. The guy did not look qualified, but is there really any way to look qualified to run a cafe? Probably not. Flame isn’t exactly a professional, either, so he won’t question it. He meets the stare of the guy and can feel the disappointment in his eyes. Flame isn’t even sure why he’s upset, considering he should’ve asked whether Flame knew his coffees or not.

“I knew this would happen,” He sighs, rubbing at his forehead. The guy sounds already tired of Flame, and it’s kind of annoying. “Whatever. Take this.” He hands Flame a small pile of papers, all stapled together. He fumbles to grab it, and when he squints down at it, he sees a recipe list greeting him. 

“Bro— Why didn’t you just give this to me earlier? Literally why were you just waiting?” He asks as he flips through the pages until the words How to make a lovely macchiato! stare up at him. This isn’t even the manager’s own recipe or something. It’s literally a blog page printed out. Line for line. Flame isn’t sure what to make of that, but he won’t question it.

“Just hurry up and make me a macchiato, kid.”

“I’m not a kid,” He bristles at the comment, grumbling under his breath. Flame doesn’t want this grumpy old man calling him kid. The actual making of the drink wasn't hard at all. Flame thinks he’s made a pretty good drink. The instructions were filled with so much rambling, but he made it to the end. And to top it all off, he made a cream heart. He deserves a pat on the head or something for that. 

He looks at it proudly, and it takes a long moment for him to muster up the courage to hand it to the Manager. Not because he’s scared, or anything like that, but because Flame doesn’t want his amazing cream design to be ruined. Flame worked hard on it. But whatever, he hands it over to the Manager. He makes a hum of approval in turn, and something in Flame’s chest warms at the approval. He did like hearing that.

“..Not bad, Flame.”

Flame’s tail sways faster at the praise. For his first macchiato, he thinks he did pretty good.

…

It takes him one google search to find each blog that the manager had printed out. Damn, this guy was lazy.

…

Flame is at Lomedy’s dorm more often than he is at his own place.

He has a spare key, and they live down the hall from each-other, anyways. No point in needing to knock when he basically is over there more than his own dorm, nowadays. They had a planned movie night today. And Flame figures it’s also the perfect time to tell Lomedy that he’s got a job now. Two birds, one stone. Flame’s tail snaps, shutting the door behind him. Flame doesn’t need to look back to lock the door. It’s instinct. He could navigate Lomedy’s tiny dorm with his eyes closed, if asked to. Not that anyone would ask him to do that. Maybe Spongs?

He glances around. Lomedy isn’t here yet. “Bro. Like, where the hell is this guy?” He groans, moving over to the bed by the window, flopping onto it. He rolls over on his back, staring at the ceiling with a dramatic sigh. Lomedy’s room is so bright. There’s glow in the dark stickers on the ceiling. It’s varying types of farm animals, and Flame wonders how Lomedy even got those. He’s not an expert on that kind of stuff, but he’s pretty sure that most glow in the dark stickers are.. stars. But whatever, Flame’s not that interested in the story of how he got it. He remembers seeing them when he and Lomedy first hung out at his dorm. Flame had fallen asleep during another watch of National Geographic, and woken up to the lights off, and the ceiling glowing in a wide range of animals, from farm to wild ones. It was kind of beautiful, if he’s being honest, but he won’t tell Lomedy that.

The door creaks open just when he’s got comfortable. “Flame!” An annoying, no, a downright agitating voice fills his ears. He recognises it instantly. Even though he wishes it was Zam, or just about anyone else except Spongs, when he looks down from the ceiling, he’s greeted by a mess of yellow hair belonging to the one person he never wants to see. Great. His eyes narrow into a glare, looking over Spongs’ shoulder to intensely stare at Lomedy. Stare was too nice of a word, but it’s not like Lomedy nor Spongs could see his eyes behind his blindfold anyways. He had free reign to glare at both of them, which is exactly what he’s going to do.

“Spongs.” His voice sounds strained. It takes a lot of effort to not sigh. He can see Lomedy’s smile, slightly pleading and slightly scolding. Movie night was their thing. He didn’t want Spongs here ruining the mood and there when they watch whatever movie Lomedy was supposed to pick. Flame’s ears flatten against his head, tail thumping against the mattress in poorly hidden irritation. “What exactly are you doin’ here, bro?” He asks, or more like demands. That bluntness doesn’t effect Spongs, never has, really. He doesn’t falter, all he does is bound over, flopping on Lomedy’s too tiny bed, right next to Flame.

“Come on, bro! Of course I’m here for the movie! Willsion had stuff to do n’ I was bored at home.” He grins, unabashed and unbothered by the way Flame hisses, rolling to make space between them. It’s not genuine hatred. Maybe irritation. Spongs was annoying like that. Flame had long grown past trying to get him to leave. Spongs could be distracted, but he could never be kept away for long. “Sooo.. what are we watching?” Flame sits up. Makes it a point to shove Spongs off the bed.

In turn, because Spongs doesn’t know how to give up quietly, tugs him down with him. They end up in a heap on the floor, and Flame’s elbows and knees hurt from cushioning his fall. “Dude! You didn’t think you could get me lackin’, could you?” Flame groans, and they end up tussling on the floor. Flame would definitely win this, but the way Spongs is acting like he would win is irritating, and he just keeps wrestling, somehow ending up with Spongs’ elbow in his eyes. How does it even get there? What purpose does it serve? Flame doesn’t want to know.
Lomedy’s voice interjects soon enough. “Guys! Guys. I picked a movie. Can we watch it?” He doesn’t even seem that interested in stopping the fight. Judging by the amused grin on his face, and the already opened popcorn bag that he’s digging into. So greedy. Lomedy probably let them fight so he could eat the popcorn first. He grumbles, but Spongs is bounding up, dusting himself off.

“You got lucky this time, Flame.”

“I’m the lucky one?” He echoes, incredulous.

“It’s okay. No shame about it! I’m one of the strongest people in this university anyways.” Flame is so stunned at the audacity that he doesn’t even bother with a retort. Lomedy’s projector is already whirring to life, and he sits up on the floor in time to notice the green code projected on the wall dissolve into the words, THE MATRIX. Great. Flame was going to watch the Matrix with them, just so Spongs could make more weird jokes afterwards. He moves to sit on Lomedy’s right, since Spongs had already claimed the left, hands digging into the popcorn bag every five seconds, as if he needed to eat all their butter popcorn before the movie even started. Flame debates how good it’d make him feel if he dug his claws into Spongs’ hand. He spares a glance at Lomedy, who is raising his brow at him, causing him to drop the internal debate. Whatever. Flame is not pouting at the silent scolding.

Lomedy leans over. “Come on, Flame. It’s not that bad,” He says, in an attempt to be reassuring. “There’s nothing wrong with Spongs.” 

“There’s nothing right with him either,” Flame mutters back.

Lomedy can’t hide his snort or his ear twitching in amusement. Flame relaxes at that. Well, as much as he can. He stares pointedly at the wall and not at Lomedy, or the annoying man next to him. Lomedy sits upright, no longer pressed right against Flame’s shoulder. He kind of misses that warmth, but he doesn’t want Lomedy to know that. So he ignores the urge to lean in and nudge their shoulders back together. “Did you get the job?” Lomedy asks, staring at the screen, his ears standing in excitement when Neo is shown on screen. “How’d your interview go?”

Right. He’d kind of forgotten all about that. “Yeah, I got the job.” Flame can’t help his proud grin at that. “The interview was weird, though. Kinda stupid.”

“Stupid how?”

“Like..” Flame pauses, trying to find the words. “I don’t know. Somethin’s off about the manager, that’s for sure. Like, he just has this vibe that—”

“Down on my right!” Spongs calls out. Flame resists the urge to tackle him again. His eye twitches under the blindfold. He chooses to be the better person and keep quiet. Even though he makes a point to pinch Lomedy’s arm. Never invite him again. He conveys. Lomedy’s resounding squeak better mean okay if he doesn’t want Flame tackling him too.

…

"You need to stop inviting him over."

"It's not like I asked him, dude! He just.. kind of followed me back?"

"Lomedy."

...

Flame has been the only one on shift for a week now.

It’s tiring, dude. On top of that, he’s not a baker, nor was that in the rushed job description that was given to him only after he asked for it. So, he has to deal with cranky customers who want their normally easy to make drinks with thirty changes to it, and deal with their anger when he says that no, actually, there is no food he can get them because the manager won’t hire anyone else to actually make that food. Flame's tail is low, ears flat and pressed to his hair. He's tired from swim training and having to work alone is tiring, Flame just does not get paid enough for this.

"Hello, Flame."

A voice literally materialises from thin air. He yelps, almost dropping a cup as he jumps. His ears perk up, a low surprised hiss escaping on instinct. "What the— Bro. You cannot be sneaking up on me like that." He turns, and their manager stands behind him, arms crossed over his chest, a smile on his face, unbothered, and from what Flame could tell, bored. Right, 'cause he's not the one doing any work. "What? What do you want?" His shift hasn't even started yet, and he's already getting bothered by the manager.

"I have realised that you shouldn't work alone. So I got you a coworker."

"You mean you hired another person, bro." Why does it sound like he kidnapped someone? Flame does not like this guy's wording at all. Flame's ears flatten again, slower, once he realises there's no real threat in the vicinity. As long as he doesn’t count this guy as a threat. Flame isn’t sure what to feel about him, actually.

"Details, details." The man waves his hand. "He's been in the back."

"There's been another guy in the back and you didn't think to like.. mention that before? You're— Like, this is an actual joke, right?" Flame wonders how he didn't hear that. He doesn't actually have to go to the kitchens ever, his job usually involves being at the front counter or in the storage room. Nowhere else. Nor does Flame plan to do more than what he gets paid for. "Bro."

"Well, yeah. He's been baking. Or whatever it is I'm paying him to do." The manager pauses, just for dramatic effect. "Anyways. Enjoy. Don't get into any trouble." He says that like a warning, but honestly, Flame's been the best employee on shift for a week now. There should be an employee of the week thing around here. He's gonna win it this week for sure. Considering he had no competition. Well. He glances at the door to the kitchen. One competitor now. But Flame would still win. He's just better.

"Right. Like, whatever. I guess, bro." When he glances back, the manager is gone. Flame feels like he should be scared, but he could probably take that guy in a fight if it came down to it. So he's not too threatened by this weird guy and his weird mannerisms. "Okay. I guess that's it." He walks to the door. Wonders briefly if he should go in and say hello. But if the guy was going to be working with him, well, Flame kind of had to say hello, right? The door gives easily, Flame barely pressing before it opens. Inside, the kitchen was.. well, a mess, to be honest. Flame's nose scrunches up in disdain, his tail twitching once. But there were neat trays of food on the counters. The smell wafts over, and his stomach growls instinctively. It's mostly desserts, which Flame is pretty sure that’s not all they sell, but he supposes one guy can't make that much food that quickly.

"Uh, hello, bro?" He calls out. A guy, purple hair on his head, ears hidden amidst the fluff, pops up. Holding a tray of what looks like blackforest cakes. "Yo. I'm Flame," He introduces himself, stepping into the kitchen while the man seems to take him in. "Helloo..?" He repeats when all the other guy does is stand there. Flame feels like he's being analysed, or something. Instead of staring at the guy, he takes in all the cakes, all the stuff on their menu that Flame would finally get to hand to hungry customers instead of swallowing their complaints and not being able to retort 'cause it'd get him fired.

"Yo, bro," He responds, eyes still narrowed. Flame has no idea what he's done to anger this guy, but he doesn't want to know, really. "I'm Wemmbu." Right. Now he has a name to that face. Wemmbu looks vaguely familiar, and he's not sure from where exactly.

"Right. Like, I guess it's nice to meet you." Flame does not feel nice at all, honestly, but Flame supposes that's because of the glare on Wemmbu's face. "I guess. Do you need help w'anything? I finished cleanin' the front counter. I can.." Flame doesn't know why he's offering to help. He's sure this guy doesn't like him, but he's not sure why. Flame doesn't want to know. Not his problem. "I don't know. Help with the cakes, or somethin'."

Wemmbu glances at the cakes. "Cut them." He orders, and Flame bristles, but to be fair, Wemmbu was the baker here, so he can't complain this time. "Into like eight slices each. Just don't.. like.. I don't know. Mess it up." Wemmbu relaxes slowly. Flame watches the way his ears flatten, no longer perked and alert, but his tail stays still.

"Right. Where's the knife?"

"I.. actually don't know that."

Flame blinks. Wemmbu blinks.

"You've made like twenty cakes and you don't know where the knives are?"

"Bro. Just shut up. Bro's acting like this is my home. How am I supposed to know where the knives are? Do I need knives to make cakes? Like, bro, what?" Flame has offended him, judging by the grumbling and annoyed ranting filling his ears. Right. Wemmbu has a grudge against him. Flame doesn't know why, but it's like.. glaringly obvious. Maybe Flame should ask Lomedy about that. Or Zam? Surely one of them know about this.

"You're so weird, bro."

"You're weirder."

…

Flame

Yo

It’s Flame

Wemmbu

i know who you are.

Flame

?

Ookay?

…

Flame is used to working with Wemmbu's animosity by now.

Kind of. He hasn't gotten around to asking why Wemmbu dislikes him so much, just that he does. Or well, has some kind of problem with him. Because they seem to be arguing at every turn they can get. Whether it's over orders or just about how to organise stuff, arguments fill each room of the cafe. And yet, it's not as bad as Flame thought it'd be. He finds himself almost enjoying it, but he'd rather die than admit that part aloud. He gets a text from Wemmbu before his next shift.

 

Wemmbu

im not comin 2day

gl w running the cafe lol

Flame's eyebrow twitches.

Flame

Bro.

Why not??????

Wemmbu

got a test ˙𐃷˙

gotta study 4 it

Well. Flame can't really argue with that. He's taken off shifts because he needed to study too, so.. Whatever. Flame doesn't want to think about it, because in this one moment, Wemmbu was kind of justified. His tail flicks, and Flame hisses as it hits the doorway. Great. Just his luck. But instead of a quiet cafe, there's a rustle of pans clattering in the kitchen and a bustle that wasn't supposed to be there now that Wemmbu had called out. He's already on alert, as he steps behind the counter. Twenty minutes till they opened, and Flame had stuff to do, but he also had to investigate who was in the kitchen now that Wemmbu wasn't. He figures it's not the manager, considering the guy never was around, and when he was, all he did was nod approvingly and ominously. No work done from that guy.

His phone pings just before he can push open the door.

 

Lomedy

Yoo Flame!! Zam told me about this ice cream place nearby your cafe

We should go!!! She said it was cheap, too

Flame perks up before he can help it. The plan of getting to have a sweet treat was very enticing, and Flame wasn't going to deny the chance to try ice cream.

Flame

Okay

You coming after your class?

Flame doesn't get to see Lomedy's reply before a pot falls to the floor, a loud clang that echoes in his already too sensitive ears. He assumes a pot fell, or something metal, at the very least. The door gives way easily, and he stands in the doorway once again, now staring at someone he doesn’t recognise at all. From the ears atop his head, he can kind of guess what hybrid this person is. A hyena. Right, explains the mess. There's flour on the guy's cheeks, and a laugh bubbling out his throat. What was funny? Flame had no idea. "Uh. Yo."

"Hey! You're Flame right?" He beams. Such a lively spirit. It's kind of weird, but Flame isn't going to say anything. "I heard about you, man! You're the.. the barista guy, right? The manager told me about you. Well. Actually he kind of just told me your name and your job title." He moves eagerly, hands waving, bright grin still plastered on his face. "But like, so awesome to see you! I made all the stuff I was supposed to, and man was that a lot. How does anyone do this alone? I can't even feel my arms, bro."

Flame doesn't get much opportunity to speak, and he has to resort to just listening. Flame doesn't know how anyone could talk that much with so much energy. "Right. You need help?" Flame supposes that was the next course of action. "I'm not cleaning.." He adds on, before trailing off because he realised that he didn't know the guys name.

"Dude! Do you even know my name? I feel like the manager guy should've told you about me." He frowns, like the idea of Flame not knowing him was upsetting him. Right. Flame raises a brow. "Oh, right. I'm Spoke." He brandishes the nametag on his apron, the shiny silver showcasing his recently carved plate. Flame has an identical one on his own chest.

"Right. Hi, I guess." Flame supposes anyone was better than that annoying Wemmbu guy who took every chance he could get to glare at Flame and make everything a competition. Not that he didn’t enjoy winning those competitions, though. “You already finished with the cakes?”

Spoke furrows his brows, and it looks like a question mark pops up above his head. The confusion is weird, considering Spoke’s the only one who could’ve made the cakes, but whatever. Flame gets to watch as his eyes light up with recognition, the question mark turning into a light bulb. “Oh! Oh. Those! Yeah. Yeah,” He nods quickly. “I finished with those. Just like,” He waves his hands, grinning. “Take ‘em away. Or whatever. To the front counter. ‘cause I’m getting hungry and I might steal one.” Spoke winks. Flame doesn’t laugh.

Spoke falters in turn. Laughing to himself. Probably a hyena thing. “Ookay, then. Tough crowd.” Flame did kind of find it funny, but he chose not to laugh. Lomedy would’ve noticed the tail flick, the telltale sign of amusement, but Spoke doesn’t know him that well. Flame nods. 

“Right. Anythin’ else I can help you with, bro?” 

“Uh. You know, Flame, a lot actually. I’m so glad you asked, buddy! Let me think of what I need you to do.”

Right. Flame’s in for a long time.

…

…

Flame kind of expected the next guy.

If there were two bakers in charge of food, then surely the manager would draw the conclusion that he needs to hire two baristas in charge of drinks. It seems easy enough to connect the two dots together. He’s long since muted the work group chat, considering all they did there was bicker. The manager seemed absent entirely, not even reading the group. Spoke and Wemmbu took that as the great opportunity to just talk to each other. It was mostly about recipes and preparing stuff, but Flame wasn’t a baker. He didn’t care about that stuff. 

So he muted the chat a week into being their coworkers. Flame only opens it before work, scrolling through the seemingly endless chats. His eye catches on something. It’s a new message, literally sent ten minutes ago. Spoke and Wemmbu were probably already inside, considering they hadn’t seen the message yet, or at least replied to it.

Manager has added ████████ to the chat.

An unknown number. Added to the employee’s groupchat. Well. Flame doesn’t need much more explaining than that. He already expects a person to be at the counter when the glass door opens, the bell chiming like it always did. He took it down last week, and it had mysteriously reappeared when he clocked in the next day. There’s someone there, just like Flame expected. He squints. He’s pretty sure he knows that guy, actually. He’d seen him at the campus fair, holding some kind of bake sale for charity. Flame is sure his name will come to him eventually. He steps forward, and the wings fluff up first, probably reacting to the step of Flame’s boot. It’s then that Flame’s eye catches on the nametag. Right. Parrot. “Parrot.”
The guy pauses, as if not expecting Flame to know his name. “Hey, dude.” Parrot nods. “Uh.. Did the manager tell you about me?” He glances down at himself, and then seems to remember the name card he had on without Flame saying a word. “Oh. Right. That too. My bad, bro. You’re Flame, right? I was told I’d be workin’ with you.” He smiles. Flame finds himself smiling back. A small grin matching Parrot’s.

“Uh. I guess he did. But I remember you from that bake sale for charity you did.” Flame steps behind the counter, his tail swaying approvingly at the clean counters. He hears a rustle in the kitchen, and chooses to ignore it. He’s pretty sure Wemmbu and Spoke were in there together and he didn’t even want to touch that with a ten foot pole. “Durin’ the campus fair? I bought a couple cookies off you.” Flame starts refilling the cup dispensers.

“Oh. Bro, that’s sick. I spent ages on those cookies. Wifies was so mad because he had to sit in the kitchen with me while we waited and I didn’t let him touch a single cookie.” Parrot laughs behind him, fond of a memory Flame was now hearing about. Lomedy’s kind of the same way, always baking sweet stuff and not letting Flame have any. The reminder of Parrot's baking gave him a question. Flame's tail twitches, curiosity poking at him.

“If you’re a baker, why aren’t you like..” Flame pauses. “I guess in the back. With the other two guys.” He’s sure the mess in the kitchen would be lessened if Parrot was back there. Parrot already seems more responsible than everyone else in the two conversations they've had. "Isn’t baking like your thing?" When he glances over his shoulder, Parrot is wiping down the counters.. again. Right. Whatever. Flame didn't want to ask why.

"Oh. Uh. Honestly, bro, I didn't even want this job," Parrot says. Pauses. "Uh. Not like.. I mean, I like having a job. 'cause I need the money. But I didn't exactly.. interview or whatever." Parrot shrugs, laughing to himself. Flame felt more and more questions arise in his head. "Like. I just wanted a drink and then the manager thought I was someone else. And then he gave me the job. Like, didn't even ask me for my ID or anythin'." He visibly pauses, eyes narrowed as if remembering something he didn't like, and then shakes his head to forget about it. Flame doesn't ask about it. If it was important, Parrot would mention it.

"Oh." You know, their manager does seem like the type of guy to do that. Flame hums, turning back around. "Right. Like.. I think congrats. Guess you got lucky there, huh?" Their manager already seemed like an odd man. Flame had no idea what to think of him, but Flame also had a job thanks to that man, so he supposes he can't complain too much, can he? Whatever, bro.

Parrot hums, the sink turns on behind him. "Yeah. Guess so, dude." They fall into a comfortable silence after that. Finishing their preparation in a smooth flow that doesn't take that long now that there was two people working instead of one. It's as nice as can be. Flame almost enjoys working, up until there's a loud crash in the kitchen and a yell of "WEMMBU!!" that interrupts his peacefulness.

Bro.