𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚎
𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟻 ⟡ 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚎
⟢ james potter x fem!reader
⟢ summary: modern restaurant au; you and james complete side work at the end of your shift . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁2.1k
⟢ warnings/tags: coworker!james, coworker!marauders, anxious!reader, not rlly proofread
⟢ the new hire masterlist ⟡ main masterlist
note: dropping lore in this part ig
"I don't think this restaurant is fancy enough for this to be necessary," you huff, polishing what seems like your millionth spoon.
You're sitting at the rickety break room table, polishing silverware and rolling sets of them into cloths. James is across from you, looking at his reflection in a butter knife.
"No one who eats here is going to care if there are a few water stains on their spoons," you grumble. You're in a bit of a bad mood, this task being the only thing keeping you from going home.
"Nate wants this place to be fancier than it is. Always has," James replies, neatly arranging his knife with the other utensils on the cloth in front of him.
"Always, huh?" you wonder, "Has he always been the manager?"
"As long as I've been here."
"And how long is that?"
"Ah," James pauses in the middle of rolling his napkin, counting in his head, "Technically five years."
You stop in the middle of polishing a fork, looking up to meet James' gaze. "What? Really?" you ask.
James shrugs as if it's nothing, responding, "Started as a busser when I was seventeen. The only person who's been here longer is Remus."
You don't understand the relevance of the comparison, pointing out, "Well, he's older."
James looks at you puzzled, "Remus and I are the same age."
You put the fork down entirely, gaping at James. "Remus is twenty-two?" you ask, your tone conveying your shock.
"Yeah," James says slowly, furrowing his brows, "You didn't know that?"
"No. He looks at least a few years older."
James tilts his head side to side, pondering your comment. "Maybe a little," he admits. "That kitchen wears him down."
You look puzzled as you straighten out the fork you had dropped down on the table, thinking about the revelation that still doesn't quite add up to you.
"If he's our age how in the world is he already a head chef?"
James looks as if he's trying to recall the answer, but comes up short.
"You'd have to ask him. He was hired before me and I guess I never thought to ask that."
"He was a head chef at seventeen?" you ask, eyes widening as your shock doubles.
"No! No, he just worked in the kitchen. Think he was head chef by twenty, though."
"Oh..." you trail off, thinking that makes much more sense than your initial impression. But not by very much. "Still, wow. What about everyone else?"
James' eyebrows raise curiously as he starts polishing yet another spoon.
"What do you mean?"
"They've been here how long?" you clarify.
"Ah. Sirius started about a month after I did. Did you know he started as a server?" James shares the details like it's hot gossip.
To you, it basically is. You can't imagine Sirius doing anything besides bartending at this restaurant.
"Really?"
James smiles at the way your eyes light up in surprise and slight amusement. "Yeah," he confirms. "He absolutely hated it, but doing that he got to train with the bartender before him."
You nod understandingly. It makes sense, you suppose. Bartenders don't just appear out of thin air. You either have to work your way up the ranks or receive formal training, and if you had ever given it any thought, you would have assumed the former.
It dawns on you that you haven't given much thought to your other coworkers at all. Besides what you've naturally found out over the handful of weeks that you've worked here, you don't know much about anyone besides James.
"And the others?"
James blows out some air, thinking, and he takes two rolls of silverware and begins using them as drumsticks against the table. You smile a little at the action.
"Whenever I became a server I recommended Pete for my old busser job. That was probably four years ago."
James had told you stories about him and Peter before, but you wonder how long they've actually known each other.
"How did you know Peter?"
"Known him since primary school."
"Huh," you express your surprise quietly, and James continues on.
"The next hire was Marlene," James smirks as he recalls something. "Actually, she's the reason Lily and Mary were hired."
"Did she recommend them too?"
James chuckles, shaking his head as he explains, "No, Marlene was always complaining about too much testosterone in this place. I think five.. six months after she started, she told Nate that a customer said that they thought management must be sexist because of the lack of girl hires."
"Did someone actually say that?" you ask skeptically.
"No," James laughs, "He totally bought it though cause he hired Lily and Mary a week later. Worked out great for them in the end. You know they go to uni in the city? They’re both here to support themselves through it.”
Your bottom lip finds itself between your teeth as you think about how long everyone has worked here. They’ve all had years to get to know each other. You have already been feeling like an outsider, so learning this just amplifies that tenfold.
James puts his makeshift drumsticks away when he notices you getting lost in thought.
“What’s on your mind?”
Your eyes flash to him, startled out of your train of thought. Shrugging, you try to brush it off and return to your duties to the silverware.
“C’mon, I always know when you’re getting lost in that head of yours,” James says with a teasing yet affectionate tone.
You purse your lips, knowing the chances of James letting this go are slim.
"I just… I don't really know much about them at all I guess. Do they..." you trail off, apprehensive to admit your insecurities.
"What?" James probes gently, softening at your hesitation.
"I’m worried they don't like me,” you admit.
"What!? Why? You’re great! Why wouldn’t anyone like you?” James says it earnestly without a hint of hesitation, and that alone makes you feel a bit better.
You keep your hands busy with the silverware, your eyes focusing intently on the water stains you polish away so that you don’t have to face James as you explain.
“I feel like I haven’t made much of an effort to get to know them. I was nervous, I guess, to talk to new people. Now I’m even more nervous because it’s been so long and I haven’t even tried. They’re going to think–”
“Hey, hey, hey,” James stops you from snowballing into a self-deprecating ramble, placing a hand over yours across the table, also stopping the way you’re polishing a spoon to death.
He dips his head down to try to meet your eyes, which are trained intently on the table. “No one thinks anything,” he says patiently. “Actually, you know what I’ve heard? I’ve heard them say that you’re kind. Maybe a tad shy, but that’s not a bad thing!” The last few words tumble out in a rush, James being worried that you’d take it negatively when he really finds your timid nature so endearing.
Your gaze slowly shifts to meet his eyes. “It’s hard for me to warm up to new people,” you admit, your voice low.
James absentmindedly strokes the back of your hand with his thumb, “You got on with me just fine.”
“You’re different,” you say before you can give it much thought. You would’ve bit your tongue if you had.
“How am I different?” he asks, his eyes twinkling with something you can’t quite place.
“I-I don’t know you just are.”
It’s true, you’re not sure why but after your first day you were already comfortable with James, more than comfortable if you’re being honest. He quickly became your favorite part about this job.
He simply accepts your answer. Normally, he’d say something witty or teasing, but he finds himself at a loss for words.
The conversation fades into silence, neither of you knowing how to proceed, both overwhelmed with confusing feelings.
James can’t stop looking at where his hand rests over yours, not knowing how to retract it. Not wanting to.
Meanwhile, you search your brain for something to say, something that would change the subject. You don’t feel the need to keep talking about this anyway. Although, you’re not sure if you feel better about the situation with your other coworkers or if you’ve just been distracted from it.
“So, five years, huh?” you start.
"Technically," he emphasizes. He slowly retracts his hand as the conversation takes on a more casual tone.
You had barely even noticed his hand there with how natural it felt, but now that it’s gone your hand almost feels cold. You distract yourself by rolling more silverware.
"What does that mean?" you ask.
"I, er, pursued other things for a little while. Didn't work out, so I ended up back here."
You can’t help but wonder what he means, so you ask, "What things?"
James stammers, him now the apprehensive one.
"Sorry,” you say quickly, “I don't mean to pry."
"No, it's okay,” James waves off your worries, “I was playing rugby."
“What, like, professionally?” you ask, not expecting him to say yes.
“Er, yeah," he admits, twirling a butter knife in between his fingers.
You freeze. “Wait. Seriously?”
“Yes,” he chuckles airily.
He notices how your mouth is slightly agape, twitching as it forms the shape of words which never leave your lips. He can tell you’re wondering what happened, but you’re too polite to ask.
“I hurt my knee,” he continues, purposefully avoiding the specifics, “so ended up back here.”
Your face crumples in sympathy. "Oh. Oh, I-I'm sorry," you say, genuine compassion in your tone.
“It’s fine. I’ve come to terms with it," James says honestly. His career was brief— barely even got a chance to start— and while he'll always wonder what could've been, he's not angry about the way his life is turning out.
"So what about you? What would you be doing if you didn't work here?" James suddenly asks you.
"I never went to uni," you say, thinking of Lily and Mary— your age and likely almost done with their studies. "I would've liked to. I don't even know what for."
"You still could."
"Yeah, maybe," you say tentatively, rolling you're last set of cutlery. "That's all my side work. Want me to help with yours?"
"No, you get out of here, I'll be alright," James assures, not wanting to put extra work on your plate, recalling how annoyed you've been with this task.
You nod, standing from the table to collect your things from your locker. You bid him goodbye as you sling your bag over your shoulder.
"I'll see you tomorrow, James."
"Bye, love," he says fondly, waving with a fork in his hand as you go.
On your way out, you pass Sirius, giving him a small wave and a barely audible "goodnight" as he joins James in the break room.
"Night, doll," he calls down the hall as he turns into the room.
Sirius has a wide, knowing smirk on his face when he locks eyes with James.
"Rolling silverware?" Sirius asks, his tone dripping with his amusement.
James shrugs, "Yeah, so?"
Sirius tilts his head, chuckling, "I thought your side work was to prep garnishes today."
"Ah," James fumbles with some silverware as he responds, "I finished that ages ago. So, I offered to do Lily's side work."
"Oh, did you?" Sirius says with mock surprise.
"Yup. Just doing a favor for a friend," James grins innocently.
"Or trying to get some alone time with that work crush of yours."
"I do not have a work crush!" James quickly defends, feeling the heat rising to his cheeks. He almost feels guilty, Sirius is at least right about the alone time part. James still misses having you by his side as a trainee, but after you're conversation today he feels bad about stealing you away from your other coworkers.
Sirius raises his hands in the air, "Alright, mate. Whatever you say."
"You're a prat. Why don't you come help me with this?"
Sirius looks incredulous at the suggestion, "I'm not the one who volunteered to do extra work!"
James rolls his eyes, picking up one of the many forks he has left. But truth be told, he didn't quite mind having to do the extra work— spending time with you made it well worth it.
Sirius snorts at the sudden lovesick look on James' face when he gets lost in his thoughts, and makes a mental note to wager a bet with Remus tomorrow on how long James will last.
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