Chapter Text
A solo cookie sat on the table in front of you. It was wrapped in plastic with a small thread of red ribbon tied into a bow, closing it tight, but probably not tight enough to keep the cookie from not getting stale.
It was just a glorified sugar cookie, like the ones you can get at Walmart for a couple dollars by the dozen. They tasted like shit, were way too sweet, yet you couldn’t stop eating them until they made you sick.
This one was covered in artificial, nuclear-neon yellow frosting with a black smiley face drawn on it.
It stared back up at you mockingly.
Your boss loved to make them. She went out of her way to package them up all cutesy and display them front and center by the cash register commenting that sometimes all somebody needs is a smile to make their day.
Yeah, right. That was some sentimental bullshit right there and you didn't get paid enough to pretend you agreed with the sentiment that overpriced, smiley face, diabetes-inducing cookies that probably took years off your life if you ate one.
Your manager made either you, or one of your coworkers take all of them home with you after closing shop because he was too afraid that the boss would see all her cookies shamefully in the dumpster and it’d break her heart that nobody actually buys them.
You continued on with your staring contest, ignoring the sound of the bakery’s doorbell indicating a customer had just walked in.
Oh, right. Did you mention that you worked in a coffeeshop bakery? Anyone with even a lick of creative talent or hopeless romanticism dreams of working in one at least once. It was every edgy, indie hipsters wet dream, along with owning a red-brick apartment in New York City. You, too, were one of those people tricked by our capitalist overlords that this would be the coffee shop fanfiction come true. That some handsome, charming individual would order the same order every day and eventually you’d fall in love through various overdone tropes and cliches. Then maybe you’d both bag that apartment, complete with lots of plants and a cat or two.
The thing about that, though, is those daydreams you drooled over during your first shifts? Yeah, they were just dreams. Crazy, right? People die when they’re dead.
Prince charming came day one and you fucked up his over-complicated coffee order. It turns out that Mr. Perfect was an utter asshole who held up the line for fifteen minutes trying to get you fired and/or get his coffee for free. So you gave him the true loves ‘kiss’ he deserved by spitting on his blueberry scone and handing it to him with a big ol’ smile on your face.
…. Okay you didn’t do that. But goddamnit you thought about it and that revenge fantasy was ten times as good as some stupid falling-in-love-at-work garbage!
Work fucking SUCKED ASS. That’s a healthy dose of reality for you. It sucked , and the only people who hit on you are creepy old men who make you nervous to walk to your car at night, while all the cute girls/guys ignore your existence completely. But nooooo, this was your dream to work here at this dead end job that your parents bring up every time you see them. ‘Oh… you’re still working there? You’re a little old to have that kind of job honey, you should try getting something more stable and financially secure!’
Life was a cruel and unusual mistress in this BDSM disaster we call a life.
And you had to deal with all of this while these stupid cookies watched and laughed at your misery.
‘Damn, what did that cookie ever do to you, huh?’ You mocked internally as you used your thumb to smoosh that stupid smirk off its face.
“damn. what did that cookie do to you?”
You blinked stupidly, before breaking your staring contest with your desert as you looked up at death itself.
The grim reaper looked like he just crawled out of hell, otherwise known as the clearance section of Hot Topic. He wore a black fur-collar, purple jacket, complete with a dog collar and two gold fangs.
He loomed over you, and his shadow cascaded over your smaller frame.
Oh. That’s not the grim reaper. It was just one of your regulars which was significantly less cool. You frowned up at him, which only made his shit-eating grin curl wider.
“heya, darlin’”
You could smell some sort of smoke on his breath. It wasn’t exactly cigar smoke, but you weren’t sure what else you could compare it to. It was probably monster cigars, if that existed.
Your eyes immediately darted to his left, his right, then at the door. The other one wasn’t here yet.
Not that it mattered. You’re on break right now for another ten minutes, which tall-and-lanky should have realized since you were, in fact, not remotely near the cash register. You were sitting at your favorite table in the corner of the bakery as far from it as possible, complete with a painting of a donut, a fake plant, and a window view. The luxurious view to the dirty city street was being soiled by the skeleton being way too close to your personal space in an otherwise empty store.
What an asshole.
You were about to voice this sentiment (The break part, not the asshole part. Though it was tempting…), but your eyes drifted to the Forbidden Register only to find it deserted.
The backroom door was still flapping, and you could see your coworker looking at you pleadingly from the circle window. You’ve been abandoned in the war zone, and you weren’t even supposed to be on the battlefield.
What an asshole!
At least monster customers weren’t that bad, usually.
Most humans were terrified of monsters still since they came out of the mountain, and you used to be one of them. Because seeing Freddy Kreuger come to life and stand in line to order a caramel frappuccino is a funny thought, but significantly less funny when you’re the barista actually serving him.
But that all changed when The Screech attacked roughly a year ago.
You see, you always had to serve the very few monster customers you did get because you were the newest, youngest hire and usually had to man the front lines. And by few, you mean VERY few. Monsters were pretty loyal to their own businesses and tended to stick to the monster side of town, but sometimes they’d get curious about human owned stores or restaurants that were certified monster friendly. It was pretty heartwarming to see actually, how they really looked after each other. If a monster met you and thought you were cool, every monster would know since the community was so small. They were honestly usually kind, if a bit understandably cautious, some of them just looked terrifying.
The keyword is ‘usually’.
It was like an old western movie. You were the lone cashier during slow hours falling asleep. A tumbleweed could have rolled through the bakery indicating the foreboding showdown about to occur.
The door slammed open, the chime of the bell signaling your doom. And by slam you mean SLAMMED. It had scared the shit out of you, and you jumped in confusion only to be met with a skeleton.
A very short skeleton, probably a few inches shorter than you, decked out with a cartoonishly big, purple bandana and stylish boots. He had a gnarly scar on his eye, which immediately caught your attention.
He came in like he owned the place, pointing at you with a gloved, accusatory finger. You were completely baffled.
“LOWLY HUMAN, I DEMAND YOUR SERVICES AS I AM A VERY BUSY SKELETON AND UNFORTUNATELY, I’VE BEEN BANNED FROM THE PLACE I USUALLY GO TO.”
A look of shame crossed over the skeleton’s face before he brought his glove thoughtfully under his chin.
“This Establishment, While Subpar Compared To What I’m Used, Will Have To Do For My Very Important Needs.”
He walked up to the counter, the eyelights in his skill practically glowing an intense, fiery purple.
“I WOULD LIKE A BLACK COFFEE. I’LL KEEP IT SIMPLE FOR YOUR FEEBLE, INFERIOR, FLESHY HUMAN BRAIN TO PROCESS.”
Your eye twitched. God he was so loud.
Even your worst customers usually just said you sucked at your job and should be fired, but that was after they had actually ordered. This guy haughtily just storms in, probably broke the door, declares himself superior and insults your intelligence unprompted.
“Of course, let me get that for you!” You said cheerily, because you were a goddamn professional and you’d been in the industry long enough to know that the sooner you got this guy out of here, the sooner you werent gonna have to deal with him. Insulting your intelligence? Your appearance? Hah, please. You survived highschool and work customer service. Little insults mean nothing to you anymore, you’re far too jaded.
“ Your fucking highness. ” You hissed under your breath. Okay, you were a little petty. But you had to be, sometimes. Any ounce of fear you had was overcome with the amount of anger you felt.
Apparently skeletons have really good hearing which is surprising since they don't have ears, but Screechie’s skull suddenly turned a vibrant shade of purple.
“UNDERSTANDABLY YOU’D BE CONFUSED BY MY B-BRILLIANCE HUMAN! BUT I’M NO MEMBER OF THE ROYAL FAMILY. A COMMON MISTAKE, I ASSURE YOU…. MY OFFICIAL TITLE IS LORD AND YOU’LL USE IT WELL IF YOU’RE WISE.
P-PERHAPS YOU’VE HEARD OF ME BEFORE? FROM HOW TIMID YOU WERE BEFORE, YOU MUST HAVE HEARD OF MY TERRIFYING FEATS!”
You turned your head back to him as you poured his coffee. Truthfully, you were more afraid of the loud slam of the door and your pride refused to admit that seeing a living skeleton was kind of intimidating, even if he wore gaudy, heeled boots.
Was…. was he being serious? Or was he larping right now?
You decided to play along, mainly because your earlier sarcasm flew right over his bald skull and you were feeling spiteful.
“ Oh , but of course ! How could I have not heard about you before, Lord…..?” You looked questioningly at him, holding his coffee in your hand with a sharpie.
“THE MALEFICENT, FEARSOME BLACKBERRY!” Black shouted with pride, puffing out his chest.
“Yes, yes, Lord Blackberry ,” You said, trying to control the sarcasm in your tone, scribbling his name down. You smiled before handing him his cup.
“Mmmhm. Well, here you go. That’ll be 2.65$.”
Black handed you a few dollars and some change, face still painted purple. You’d almost say he was bashful.
The silence was starting to get awkward, and the way he was looking at you was starting to unnerve you. You awkwardly coughed, “Thank you, come again!”
“......” He stared down at his coffee cup, face scrunching up in thought before he took a sip. He wrinkled the ridge of his nose in disgust before trying to hide it behind a failing poker face.
“YES. I WILL DO THAT… YOU’VE DONE BETTER THAN EXPECTED, HUMAN. YOU ONLY DID THE BARE MINIMUM, BUT YOU DIDN’T DISAPPOINT ME.”
Then he turned heel and left. You figured he wouldn;t actually come back after that, but my god were you wrong.
Because he came back.
Every.
Single.
Day.
BUT ONLY when you were working. If you were on break, in the bathroom, or hell even off that day he’d demand you serve him like you were his personal barista. He’d get the exact same thing every time (thankfully his order was easy and most times you already had his cup prepared) and he never seemed to actually like it. It wasn’t until Black brought his brother, the lanky skeleton currently standing in front of you, that you changed his order.
Technically without him asking.
Mutt, as he was called by Black, whispered to you one day when they were getting their usual that the shorter skeleton actually loved cream and sugar but was too embarrassed to admit it since it wasn’t ‘manly’ enough.
You were a bit apprehensive to actually change someone's order if they didn’t specifically ask for it, but Black seemed miserable getting his order and they both had been coming daily for some time now.
So you took the risk of trusting Mutt and added a little bit of sugar and cream to Black’s coffee. The skeleton looked up at you after one sip and spluttered in surprise.
“You okay?” You asked, concerned.
He merely looked at you flustered, before snootily looking off to the side with a scowl and a loud ‘mmf!’
“I’M NOT SURPRISED YOU’VE SCREWED UP. FAILURE IS A FATAL FLAW OF YOUR SPECIES. HOWEVER, I AM FEELING BENEVOLENT TODAY SO I WILL LET THIS SLIDE. IN FACT, TO SAVE YOU FROM THE SHAME AND HUMILIATION YOU’VE CAUSED YOUR BLOODLINE, I WILL BE DRINKING THIS ENTIRE CUP AND ORDERING A SECOND ONE MADE THE EXACT SAME WAY.”
“.....T-thank you…?” You questioned, unsure of how that benefited you in any way.
“Y-YOU’RE WELCOME, HUMAN.”
You had no idea why he couldnt just ask you to add milk or coffee like any other rational, sane being but whatever. The way they talked grew on you, and you took less offense to it with the realization that it’s just how they are.
That being said, the one valuable thing they taught you was that monsters?
They are absolute dorks.