The bell above the door chimed when you walked in.

Fez looked up from behind the counter, hoodie sleeves pushed up, hands busy counting bills. He paused when he saw you, eyes lingering a second longer than necessary.

“Hey,” he said. “You here about the job?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Ash said you needed help.”

Fez glanced toward the back room, then back at you. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “I do.”

He didn’t ask for a résumé. Didn’t ask many questions.

Just handed you an apron and nodded toward the register.

“You good with numbers?” he asked.

You smiled. “I’ll manage.”

That was how it started.

Working Together

The shop got quiet late at night. Too quiet.

You learned Fez’s routines fast — the way he checked the door twice, how he watched people without staring, how he always made sure you stayed behind the counter when things felt off.

“You don’t gotta deal with that,” he’d say calmly