Tommyinnit clinic for supervillains

Chapter 4: Fried chicken sandwiches

Although Tommy had regular customers, none were like Wilbur. Some of his regulars would ask how he was doing when they came up to order their drink, but none would joke around with him like Wilbur. None would laugh at his taunts or smile at him the way Wilbur did. Not to mention, Wilbur left a tip in the tip jar every time he came by, which also made him excited for Wilbur's visits.

A full two weeks passed of this. His life had seemingly returned to the peace it had before he healed Siren—he hadn't seen any glimpses of the villain during his walks home after that McDonald's trip. Tubbo and Ranboo continued to share strange whispers with one another, but made an effort to stop more if Tommy was in the room with them. Tommy tried very hard not to care, but it was an effort to stamp down the jealousy that stirred in his gut anytime he noticed Tubbo and Ranboo sharing a knowing look.

They were supposed to be a team. The three of them against the world. Why was he being excluded now?

It was this situation that made his work shifts all the more enjoyable. Not only did he get to escape the apartment that was practically smothering him with the weight of Tubbo and Ranboo's secrets, but he also got to annoy the shit out of Wilbur. It was a win win.

Once again, Tommy was working yet another shift where Wilbur was keeping him on his toes. This time, Wilbur had waltzed in less than an hour from closing time, giving Tommy a shit-eating grin that told him the bastard had done it on purpose. While usually customers coming in to hang out so close to closing time drove Tommy nuts, Wilbur was a different case because Tommy could tell him to fuck off without getting fired.

After getting his drink (a flat white, which had led to Wilbur insisting he would be fine with the caffeine this late at night), Wilbur had settled himself at his favorite table and was once again consumed by his work. The last hour of Tommy's shift ticked by, all the remaining customers slowly dripping out like pour over coffee until it was just him and Wilbur left in the cafe.

"Y'know we're closing soon, dickhead," Tommy called out from behind the counter, no longer needing to pretend to be polite since everyone else had left.

Wilbur glanced up from his computer, blinking a few times as he rubbed at his eyes. "Oh shit, that went by fast, didn't it?"

"That's what happens when you show up less than an hour before we close," Tommy said, rinsing out the rest of the cups and shakers in water.

"I suppose that's true," Wilbur agreed. He closed his laptop and put his glasses back in his coat pocket. After sliding the laptop back in his bag he stood up from his seat, taking one last sip of his coffee before he dumped it in the trash bin. Then, he sauntered over to the counter and rested his elbows next to the register. "So how long does it usually take you to close?"

Tommy shrugged, wringing out a wet rag to wipe down the counters. "Depending on how busy it was, usually twenty to thirty minutes?"

Wilbur nodded. "Well then I have a proposal for you," he said, smirking at the teenager.

Tommy narrowed his eyes, waiting for Wilbur to go on.

"You see, I'm very hungry right now. I'm also hopped up on caffeine. You've been working for quite a few hours now, which means you're probably hungry too. So I was thinking you and me go out to this fried chicken place that my dad never wants to go to with me, and we just gorge ourselves on some real big fried chicken sandwiches. How's that sound?"

...huh?

Staring at Wilbur blankly for a moment, Tommy tried to figure out what was going on. Because sure, it was one thing for the two of them to bicker constantly every time Wilbur showed up to order a latte, but it was another thing for Wilbur to actually invite Tommy to hang out. Which is exactly what it sounded like he was doing.