Chapter Text
Phil cursed as the bucket with water he dragged to the store decided to up and fall over, soaking his boots and messing up his plans of cleaning the place. He looked at the floor and sucked a breath through his teeth. If the wood soaked the water up, would he need to change the flooring?
Oh gods.
He threw the rags at the floor and tried to wipe the floor as fast as possible.
Phil didn't do that physical labour crap. He hired cleaners for a reason.
He sat back on his haunches and squeezed the rag above the bucket. He glared at the water. And the shelves. And spiderwebs. And the effing windows.
Why couldn't he just fast skip to sitting around and farting in his stool while clients look at shitty cards?
A rapid fire of knocks ripped him from his stormy thoughts. Phil looked up, his hand instinctively twitching towards his belt where he hid the gun. He should curb that instinct down, especially outside Lmanburg.
His eyes met the eyes of a tightly smiling woman. And a serious looking man.
And, curiously, two boys, standing behind the adults. They couldn't be eighteen yet. Phil would bet around sixteen at best.
The woman waved at Phil energetically. In a bad way, it reminded Phil a bit of all the wild Karens who were oh so up and peppy, up till someone denied them.
Phil frowned slightly and got to his feet. And his soggy, soggy boots, ough.
He came to the door and unlocked it.
“Yes? What's going on?” Phil eyed the adults and then the boys.
The boys looked similar to one another. Identical face shape, sharp eye shape, straight noses and slightly protruding ears. They both had curly, bit shaggy, not well cared for hair. One had brown, shorter hair, stuffed under a maroon beanie for some reason. It was sweltering, he should lose the hat. The second had longer hair, tied in a messy, knotted braid.
They looked nothing like the adults.
The woman had blonde, thin hair, tightly gathered into neat updo. She had a bit of a chin on her, and droopy eyes. The man that stood next to her was similarly not similar to the boys. A wide build and big stomach just didn't match the lankiness of the boys at all.
The woman smiled impossibly wider and impossibly more fake.
“Well hello there dearie!”
Oh Phil already did not like her. He lifted an eyebrow at her.
She pushed through, unfortunately.
“Say, we couldn't help but notice that you started coming round recently. In and out of the shop here?”
Philza leaned on the doorframe and hummed. He was indeed coming in and out. He wasn't sure why it was important to the woman.
“Have you taken the business from the old owner?” The woman chippered out.
“I'm running the shop for my sister in her absence.” Phil decided to entertain the line of questioning. He should try to have positive relationships with his new neighbours for at least a little bit. If they pissed him off, he could just dispose of them. “I'll reopen soon, if that's what you wanted. Interested in the cards?”
“Oh golly no!” The woman laughed and her chin wobbled with it. “But on the subject of reopen…”
“Would you hire those two for the summer?” The man finally spoke up.
Philza looked at the boys again. They did not look happy to be there and have mommy and daddy get them a summer job. Phil would say, they looked rather pissed and resigned.
“What they do, eh?”
A flash of panic shone through the woman's eyes. “Oh, there's nothing really-”
“We're from juvie,” the brown haired one said with an obvious challenge in his voice.
The woman’s hands jerked up and the man frowned.
Phil just looked the boys up and down again. Thin bastards, bit rough around the edges.
“What got you there, hm?” He asked the brown haired one directly.
The boy raised his chin and stared at Phil defiantly. It was more bravado than actual bravery if Phil had to guess. Brown was the bark. Judging by the slowly tensing frame and closing fists, the pink one was the actual bite.
“Stealing.”
“Oh, please don’t listen to him-”
“We’ll make sure they won’t nick anything from you,” the man interjected again.
Phil scratched at his beard. He really didn’t like the man and the woman. He looked at them with bored eyes. “Who even are you?”
The woman jolted up.
“Oh silly me, I forgot to introduce myself!” That fake, wide smile was back. “My name’s Margaret Shamberry and this is my husband, Leon.” Then she waved to the boys. “And those two are Wilbur and,” her voice gained an unmistakable tint of dislike, “Technoblade.”
Oh, one of those neo-south names. Unusual to find someone with a name like this so far north.
“We’re fostering them,” the man, Leon, gruffly explained.
It made sense why they looked nothing alike then. The boys must be blood brothers if the system didn’t separate them too. Curious.
The boys seemed well and truly pissed at the adults. Phil would also be well pissed if someone dragged him around and tried to offhand him to strangers.
“A job should teach them right,” Leon continued. “Get them busy, before stupid ideas knock around their heads.”
Phil was not going to mention just how big of a bullshit that was. If the kids stole, they stole. A hard, punishing job would only encourage them to steal more. Phil wasn’t a parent and even he knew that.
To be fair, he was a teen who was stealing shit for a living so he knew a bit how it went.
He glanced at the boys again. Gods, he felt sorry for them. He would not like to stay in the same space as the effing Marge and Leon. No question, if Phil refused, they’d drag the two around till someone agreed or until they entirely humiliate the two. And then they’d have them work in the backyard or something similarly inhumane. Phil scratched his beard again.
Charliza left him a thousand bucks. He didn’t have to buy new shelves, tables or anything like that. When he checked the app Charl sent him, the cards restock should run him only a couple hundred and if his sister didn’t lie, the shop was profitable. He probably could afford to hire someone and just not take pay himself. He had more than enough funds to support himself.
But the shop, per Charl’s wishes, was to be run only from her money and the profits.
“Don’t exactly have a budget for salaries right now,” Phil drawled.
Margaret sensed the chance and pounced. Thankfully she didn’t pounce literally, Phil wasn’t sure if he would survive that.
“Oh don’t you worry sweetie! We don’t mind if its a bit lower!” Her voice took on a very annoying, twittering edge. “We all had that first job, right? They’ll do fine, I promise!”
“How old even are they?” Phil frowned. He looked at the brown haired one. “How old are you?”
The kid opened his mouth but Marge beat him to it. “They’re fifteen!”
So, minors. What was the minimum for minor’s? Four something? And they probably couldn’t work a full day… If Phil or the fosters cared for the law. It didn’t sound like they did.
“Shop’s open from eight till nine in the evening though,” Phil tried one last time.
“Oh, that’d be perfect!” Marge cooed.
Yeah, Phil really disliked the woman.
The man grunted. “Could you do thirty a day?”
Those two didn’t care for any sort of law, as long as they got rid of the boys for a whole day. Death’s tits, Phil hated people like them. Well, that decided it then.
Phil hummed and then nodded. “Aye. Thirty per head I can manage. I’m not giving it in writing though.”
Leon shrugged and stuck his hand out. Phil shook it and took a small dose of pleasure from seeing the man get surprised at the strength in Phil’s hand. And then the dismay, when he couldn’t crush him.
Heh.
“Wonderful, I’m so happy! They can start right now of course!”
Of course. Well, Phil better take those two off the hands of those bozos. He looked back at the dirty interior of the shop. “‘Spose they could start early.”
“Treat it like a trial day.” Leon gruffed out. Then the man turned to the boys. “Behave.”
Philza nearly rolled his eyes. What did the man think he was, a general at the boot camp? He should get off his high horse before he got kicked off. Margaret was pressing something in his hands and Phil blinked when he recognised a phone.
“Just put your number in me little phone and give me a quick call. Anytime they make you trouble you tell us and we will have them straightened out! You won’t regret it, ehm…”
Oh, she finally noticed she signed off two teenagers to a stranger whom she didn’t even know a name of. Smart.
Philza punched his number into the phone and called briefly. He saved Marge’s number as ‘Foster Karen’. “Name’s Phil.”
“Phil!” The woman smiled again. “Well, I won’t interrupt anymore! Have a wonderful day, and you!” She glared at the boys. “Better behave for mister Phil! I don’t want to have any reason to hear about you!”
The brown haired one scowled and the pink haired one closed his fists tighter. But both nodded and stayed in place, even as their foster father marched away and the foster mother waddled after him. Phil watched the pair go down the street and then disappear in one of the far off residential buildings.
He looked at the boys.
“Well,” he drawled. He took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “Ain’t they a ray of sunshine.”
Brown haired one scoffed. Phil lit up a cigarette and inhaled a bunch of smoke.
He had two teenage employees now. Well shit. Charliza probably didn’t expect something like this when she wanted Philza to take charge of the shop.
First thing first.
“I’ll pay you fifty a day. How you hide extra is not my problem,” he informed them lazily as he dropped ash from his cigarette to the ground.
The brown haired one looked up sharply. The pink haired one looked straight up shocked. So Phil was right, fosters would probably take the money away. A financial cushion was important to have as a foster kid. Would probably help with not stealing bit. Phil could usually deal with a thief or two- it was not the worst thing he had to figure out as a mafia boss. But right now he wasn’t a mafia boss but Charl’s brother and temporary owner of ‘End City’. He had to ensure the two wouldn’t steal from his sister.
He exhaled more smoke. “Which tweedledum is which?” He asked.
The brown haired one eyed Phil carefully. Eventually he had to have gathered his thoughts in order, since he pursed his lips and straightened. He was one tall, lanky ass fucker, even for a fifteen year old.
“I’m Wilbur. And this is my brother, Technoblade.”
Philza threw the butt of the cig to the ground and snuffed it out with his boot.
“Good to know. Philza,” he introduced himself. He still didn’t move away from the doorway. “Wannabe sergeant and the pancake feed you all the meals?”
The pink haired one, Technoblade, snorted at the insults. Philza felt the corner of his mouth twitch up. Those were just kids. Budding criminals but that was just up Phil’s alley.
Wilbur chewed his lips. Phil feared he wouldn’t like the answer.
“Margaret believes in fasting hours,” the brunet finally admitted. When Phil nodded at him to elaborate, the kid huffed. “She gives us breakfast and then between nine to nine, food is forbidden.”
“She believes it’s a guaranteed way she’ll lose weight.” Techno added. “Leon is allowed food but we’re supposed to fast with her.”
Philza really really didn’t like the woman.
“Fuck that,” he said with a scorn in his voice. He looked along the street. There was a small diner nearby, wasn’t there? “Each day you two will run for takeout. You eat in the shop so the wicked witch doesn’t see you, how does that sound?”
The boys looked at one another. A whole silent conversation took place between their eyes. They came to an agreement in a couple seconds though.
“Sounds good,” Wilbur finally said.
Philza pretended he didn’t see the way they were clutching each other’s hands.
He finally pushed himself off the doorway. “In that case, come on. This whole place needs to be cleaned and if I have you, I’m not cleaning on my knees. Let’s go.”