Chapter Text
Ivy smooths his shirt the best he could in the mirror. The black button down is still creased from being packed haphazardly, but he didn’t have an iron to rectify the wrinkle situation. He knows Sleep is patient, waiting outside his new apartment’s door to give him a ride to work, but he feels rushed all the same. He smooths the neutralizing patches over his scent glands, then ties up his mop of overgrown brown hair back and straightens himself up. Looking himself in the eye in the mirror, he decided he was ready, and left his small studio bathroom.
She leads him down from the second story of her little complex, to her car. “Today you can just work the dinner rush, if there is one. Vessel’s got the floor handled most weeknights.” She reassures him as they meet the other two riding with them. Paige, a beta, and Lynsey, Sleep’s omega, are waiting beside Sleep’s little blue Corolla as they approach. “Ivy, this is Lynsey, my line cook, and Paige, my prep and plater.”
Ivy shakes hands with Paige and means to wave at Lynsey, which is customary for alphas greeting mated omegas, but she grabs his hand right after the first handshake. Ivy’s eyes flare with alarm toward Sleep, but she simply nods toward the car before walking to the driver’s side. Lynsey climbs into the front seat, again to Ivy’s surprise, but he keeps his questions to himself.
It’s a short drive to the restaurant, Sleep’s Sitdown, and Lynsey is the first to break the quiet of the radio.
“So, Ivy, as you may have noticed, we aren’t into the public designation hierarchy, as suggested by our unloving governmental overlords. In Sleeps’, we’re equals. I’m sure Sleep’s already screened you for bullshit alpha brain, but here’s your permission to treat me like a regular citizen.”
“You mean act like before we presented, back when it didn’t matter what was going on in our pants? That’s a done-deal, ma’am.” Ivy responds. Sleep had warned him that the work environment would be a bit unconventional, but he’s relieved to not be concerned with acting like an alpha at work.
“Where did you move from?” Paige inquiries next.
“Uhm. Pretty far from here. You wouldn’t know the town, I can guarantee you that.”
She simply nods, and thankfully reads that Ivy isn’t one for talking about himself much.
The drive is pretty short, just about 10 minutes, and they pull up to the restaurant and park in one of the four reserved spots. It’s only quarter till 2, Ivy caught his ride with Sleep and the other kitchen staff since he doesn’t quite have a car yet, even though as wait staff he won’t really start until a bit before opening at 4pm. They’re a small, dinner-only diner. Sleep gives him a tour while the other two get started prepping and cooking.
When they get up to the host stand, effectively private from the kitchen, Sleep turns and looks him dead in the eye.
“Now, before they get here, I need to warn you about the other three you’re going to be working with tonight. They’re your neighbors, actually, but they are also part of my pack.”
“Oh... okay?” Ivy says, hesitant.
“The bartender, II, is very soft-spoken. Do not, under any circumstance, raise your voice at him, or you’ll have me to deal with. If ever you can’t find him, come look for me and I’ll know where he is.”
“He’s an omega?” Ivy inquires, with purely question in his tone. Bartending is a slightly unusual position to put an omega in since they occasionally have to cut patrons off or put rowdy guests in their place, but he isn’t asking because he’s opposed.
“He is. Don’t be fooled though, he can be quite the little boss of the room. Same with III. III hosts, so if you’re ever being overwhelmed by your guests, do let him know so he can balance the floor better. If he likes you, he’ll bus your tables for you when you’re busy.”
They only have 16 tables, seating 56 at the most, so he isn’t too concerned, but he doesn’t know their customers quite yet. “Alright then. Is my waiter partner an omega too?”
Sleep scoffs. “Hah, if only. No, Vessel is an alpha. He’s quite the opposite of you, even without your personal situation. Speaking of which, you need to be careful around him with that. Don’t let him get up in your business, even if you’re in public. He has a one track mind at times, and I don’t want you getting hurt.”
Her message is stern, and Ivy is curious at the fact she hasn’t said a single thing about her own two mates. “Okay. Thank you, Sleep. Is that still what you want me to call you here?”
“Chef is fine, too, if it makes you feel better. We aren’t big on titles here.”
That tracks in Ivy’s mind. Sleep smiles at him, before they turn back into the unlit dining room. He looks around at the layout of the tables. Along both walls are two-top date tables. The center is occupied by a row of four 4-seaters, and four 6-seaters. The floor plan itself is not overly crowded, but Ivy can imagine how it might become a tight fit when fully seated.
Despite his offering to chop vegetables or wash dishes, Sleep insists Ivy sit around waiting for opening instead of being productive. She assigns him the task of studying the menu, which he promptly memorizes because it’s nothing more than standard American diner fare. Burgers, steaks, and meatloaf; along with a few borrowed dishes like fish and chips, fettuccine alfredo, and a steak burrito option. He idly wonders how, between the location, the size, and the rather run-of-the-mill offerings, it is that Sleep stays in business.
He drops the thought the moment the other front-house staff walk through the door. Looking at his watch, it’s only five till opening, and he leaps up to begin preparing for his first shift, but the others don’t seem particularly bothered.
The tallest of them flips the lights for the dining room from the panel near the kitchen door, taking a moment to smile at Ivy as he squints at the sudden illumination. The smallest, a slim man who is also dressed head to toe in black steps behind the bar from the door leading to the kitchen and starts moving glasses from a dishwasher tray to beneath the well. He glances at Ivy through his thick eyelashes, but doesn’t make the direct eye contact the other did. He must be II.
The last to saunter into the dining room is clearly an alpha from his posture, despite anything that Sleep has tried to impose. His wavy brown hair covers down to his eyebrows, leaving his iridescent grey eyes visible from across the room. The other thing that hits him from across the room is one of their scents, most likely Vessel’s. It smells like a bonfire made with drift wood. Distinctly alpha, confident and decided.
This must be why the rest of them wear scent neutralizers. If one projects alpha so well all the time, the omegas in the room are protected. As Vessel moves through the room, casually placing utensils down at each placemat, the one taller than him approaches.
“Hi, I’m III. Sleep said your name was Ivy?” He says, tucking his bright red hair behind one ear. III towers over Ivy by at least 6 inches, despite Ivy being fairly average height by most accounts.
“Yeah. Nice to meet you, III.” He stares up into a pair of steelly-blue eyes. They’re surrounded by dark circles and eyebags, not unlike his own.
“Today you’ll be waiting on this half.” III gestures to the side with two and four-tops. “It isn’t usually too busy on Tuesdays, so I’ll try to split evenly between you and Vess unless you say something.” He says and proceeds to unlock the front door.
It occurs to Ivy briefly that III is also an omega, though it definitely doesn’t register in his actions. This place seems like a haven to Ivy.
Vessel approaches him, striding right up to Ivy with a smile on his face. His black shirt is tight over his chest, the sleeves folded back to just before his elbows, like he’s ready to get his hands into something.
“Hello Ivy. Welcome to the crew.” He speaks through a crooked smile, his voice silky smooth. “Is this your first restaurant job?” He asks, pulling out a chair from one of the tables on Ivy’s side.
“Thanks. No, I worked at an Olive Garden before I moved.” Ivy’s response is automatic. He debates sitting across from Vessel but opts to sit at the table beside Vessel’s.
“Oh really? If you told me this was your first job I would have been fooled. You look pretty young. What are you, 21?” Vessel keeps Ivy’s eyes fixed on his own as he asks.
“Aha, I wish my knees still felt like I was 21, but no I’m 25. You?”
“Older than you.” They break eye contact, and Ivy feels Vessel scour his neck, eyeing the translucent white patches on his scent glands there for a moment. “Sleep made you wear a patch?”
Ivy’s caught off guard, but Sleep’s warning echoes in his head. “Yeah? I don’t mind though, I smell like food anyways, no one would notice once the kitchen gets going.”
“Oh really? Let me guess. Apple pie? Cinnamon? No, I know, pecan pie... Mhmm.” Vessel says, a full-fledged smile taking over his face.
“Wrong and wrong... What do you take me for? An omega?” Ivy says, mildly annoyed.
He’s playing right into Vessel’s lure. “Well I can’t tell with that patch on.”
Just then, III walks the first customers of the day into the dining room to a four-top. It's a family, an alpha husband, beta wife, and two young girls, on either side of 10 years old. He seats them on Ivy’s side, and Ivy jumps up to greet them.
Before the overzealous new waiter could get there, he felt a strong hand hold him back by his shirt.
“Calm down, pup. Give them time to settle in, this isn’t McDonalds.” Vessel murmured in his ear. He took a deep breath of Ivy’s hair, tied up in the bun. His proximity sends a shiver down Ivy’s spine, and the hot breath down the neck of his shirt feels inappropriately intimate. He twists a bit, and Vessel releases his shirt.
After a minute, the husband starts looking around a bit, and Vessel nudges him forward.
Ivy takes measured steps to the table and greets them, introducing himself. “Can I get you anything to drink to start with?” He makes a brief eye sweep to the children and spouse before returning to the alpha at the table.
“Yes, the girls will have pink lemonades, my wife will have a Dr. Pepper, no ice, and I’ll have a pint of Guinness. We’ll also take an order of cheese fries for now.” He says with an easy smile and nod.
Ivy jots down the drink order in short hand and returns the smile before walking away. Vessel is coming back with two full size waters and two small waters. Ivy whispers a quick thanks as they cross paths, then hovers waiting for him.
“Any apps?” Vessel asks once he’s distributed the waters.
“Just cheese fries.” He says, showing his list.
“Alright, go tell Lynsey, then go to II for the drinks. You’ll get everything from him except water, those you make yourself.” Vessel instructs.
Ivy pushes through the kitchen door and approaches Lynsey. His gut tells him to speak to Sleep though, traditional rules being pretty deeply ingrained in him. He looks over to Sleep, who is watching him already. She uses the spatula in her hand to point at Lynsey. Is it Sleep’s personal mission to undo dynamic interaction rules?
He shakes it off and steps forward to where Lynsey is dicing onions.
“Hey, uh, Ly- Lynsey. Can I get an order of cheese fries for table 5 please?”
She looks up right into his eyes and smiles as she says, “Sure.” She leans down to a half-sized freezer to pull out a brown bag of uncooked fries and pours them into a fry basket. “4 minutes.” She says as she drops them.
“Thanks.” Ivy replies and turns to leave the kitchen. Vessel is still right outside the door, he merely shadows Ivy as he makes his way to the bar.
II has been standing unusually still, but he’s looking expectant as they approach. He holds Vessel’s eye contact until Ivy clears his throat. His icy blue eyes beam deep into Ivy’s mind much like Vessel’s, but for a different reason. There seems to be nearly tangible pain within them. He almost forgets what he’s there for, consumed by a need to offer some type of comfort to the little omega. Then Vessel elbows him.
“Hi II, uh, good evening. Can I please get two pink lemonades, a Dr. Pepper, no ice, and a pint of Guinness for table 5?”
II’s eyes flicker back to Vessel for a moment before he says in a soft voice, “Of course, Ivy. Just a moment.”
Ivy steps to the side to grab his serving tray and puts it on the bar for II to place drinks on, when it occurs to him that II’s bar wraps completely around, and the only exit is into the kitchen. Vessel catches him looking and comments on Ivy’s observation.
“Sleep had it built like that. Helps keep him out of the wrong hands.” Vessel mutters to him. As Ivy watches the short man pour the beer, he notices a flush on II’s cheeks. His shirt is buttoned all the way up, and he has a modesty slip worn all the way up to his jaw. Ivy can still see a faint mating mark at the edge of the collar, which is an unusually high placement. II’s short, dirty blond hair is combed back and lightly gelled in place, giving him a professional appearance overall.
“Is he yours?” Ivy asks. Looking closer at Vessel’s neck, he can see a small but defined mark sitting just behind the edge of his own collar.
Vessel chuckles lowly. “It's complicated. You’re better off asking Sleep. I don’t know what I’m allowed to say. She told me not to scare you off.” Vessel points his chin toward the tray, now containing all four drinks.
II is standing with his arms behind his back, watching them.
“Thank you, II. That was quick. I see why they have you back here.” Ivy tried to be encouraging, but II’s face only turned a darker shade of red.
Ivy carries the tray cautiously but steady, depositing the drinks around the table.
“Are you folks ready to order?” He says, pulling his notepad out of his pocket.
The family orders, while III leads a group of 10 people in. He proceeds to scoot two of Vessel’s 6-seaters together. Ivy notices Vessel already filling that many waters at the station beside the bar, then balancing them all skillfully on his tray as he walks up to greet his table.
In the kitchen, Ivy sticks the family’s ticket at the line and reads off the grilled items to Sleep, and is about to take the cheese fries out to his lone table when Sleep calls him over.
“What did I tell you about Vessel? He’s already up in your space, Ivy. It doesn’t take much for him to get too comfortable.” She scolds while pulling out two burger patties.
“I’m sorry. I’ll try-”
“Don’t give me the ‘I’m sorry’. Keep your guard up. He’s far too good at disarming people. Get out there before that 10-top order comes in.”
He snaps his mouth shut and walks out to deliver the fries.
The rest of Ivy’s first night goes relievingly smooth. III keeps the floor heavier on Vessel’s side, but neither of them were fully seated at any point in the night anyway. For a mainly paper ticket system, there are no hang ups or delays related to orders.
II does indeed disappear into the kitchen a couple times. One such time, Ivy sees him standing beside Sleep, being scented over the neck slip from her wrist gland. He looks slightly more relaxed, until he spots Ivy a few feet away. They’re nearly the same height, Ivy notices. II is maybe a couple inches shorter. This time, II bites his lip before turning back to the bar, and despite knowing he’s in some type of claim already, Ivy finds the little omega to be rather attractive. He follows him back around the doors to the bar so he can order refills of his table’s drinks and II does nothing but grin a shy grin while pouring them.
Ivy considers asking Sleep about II while he sits, waiting for the kitchen staff to be finished. He’ll need to get a car or another ride if he wants to get home earlier, but he doesn’t mind much. He starts at 4pm, so getting home around midnight shouldn’t be too bad.
Vessel, II, and III leave before Ivy, so he’s once again left with just Sleep, Lynsey, and Paige. He considers approaching Sleep, but with Lynsey the first one finished with her cleaning, he tries to ask her.
“Hey. I was just wondering, um, who is II’s mate? Vessel wouldn’t give me an answer but II gives him that look.”
Lynsey laughs before looking up from her phone. “My, my, Ivy. Looking for tail already?”
“No! No, I was just wondering about him cause I saw Sleep giving him pack scent on his neck but he looked at Vessel like he was ready to drop to his knees at the snap of his fingers.”
“Both things can be true. I think you’ll find this pack to be a bit unorthodox in many ways. I’m not able to answer this though. If there’s one alpha rule that Sleep enforces, it’s that her mates don’t talk about what she tells us not to.”
“Shit, I’m sorry, I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
“Trouble? As if.” Sleep’s voice cuts through, causing Ivy to jump back from the seated omega. “There won’t be any trouble for anyone in the pack. But you are better off asking me those questions of yours. Another day though, are we all ready to go?”
The two nod and lead out the doors while Sleep flips the lights off and finishes locking up.
On the car ride home, Ivy can’t help but ponder the reasonings behind all of the weirdness. Sleep’s pro-omega rights campaign, II’s constant blushing, Vessel’s immediate obsession. A piece of him is starting to scream that he’s stepping into a minefield, but it’s so puzzling to him that he wants to explore it even more.