J2 | Player Number 2: Part Deux
Happy Halloween!
I should totally be working Have a ficlet!
Player Number 2: Part Deux
560 words, Part of the Player Number 2 Verse
For zuben_eschamali pointing out this Texts From Last Night post.
He thought last year was bad when Sexy Rainbow Bright wouldn't take no for an answer, or when a coworker had called off, forcing Jensen to work the Halloween night shift alone. Somehow, this year is absolutely killer. He's seen more Bettleguise stripes than ever before as douchey fratboys are trying their hand at Robin Thicke.
Worse yet is the conga line of Walter Whites who nearly upend Jensen's tray of precariously placed plates full of hangover cures like fried eggs, bacon double cheeseburgers, and fried eggs on bacon double cheeseburgers.
When Drunk Miley Cyrus tries to start a fight with High Miley Cyrus, Jensen nearly loses it. He shoves Drunk Miley back into her booth then grabs her untouched triple-scoop ice cream sundae and slides it onto High Miley's table.
"Oh, duuuuuude," High Miley says with the laziest of smiles ever possible. "You're the best waiter to ever wait."
"You're welcome," he replies with a quick salute. Then he smiles when Drunk Miley is suddenly interested in the monte cristo sandwich her companion (the sluttiest wolf Jensen has ever seen, including that week-long expedition into het porn when he was 13 and still unsure about his leanings) is ignoring in favor of drunk texts. Which she reads aloud.
Drunk people are terrible when he's still on the clock.
Jensen clears his throat, takes a deep breath, and pulls his notepad out of his back pocket to greet a new table ... then stares at the plunger stuck to the table. To his left is Chad with hair shaggier and darker than when Jensen last saw him a few months ago, sleeveless leather coat and black tee beneath it, and a crossbow sharing the seat with him.
"You're Daryl, Walking Dead?"
Chad nods and Jensen looks to Jared, unable to summon the strength to roll his eyes or smile. It's just one of those nights, and Jared is dressed in a green shirt, blue overalls, green baseball hat, and the same obnoxious fake mustache from last year.
"And you're unoriginal."
"Well, that's rude," Jared complains.
"But right," Chad mumbles while flipping his menu to Jensen. "Reuben with onion rings and a chocolate malt."
Jensen scribbles the order then turns to Jared. "What can I get you?"
Jared tweaks the mustache and queues up a playful tone. "Just your number, sweetheart."
He can only sigh. "You're really doing this again? Dressing as Luigi and trying lame lines?"
"As I recall ..." Jared leans towards Jensen and winks. "It worked last time."
Jensen shakes his head and writes down Jared's regular order: patty melt on rye, extra crispy, side of ranch for the fries, large root beer. "Unfortunately I was pathetically single at the time."
"And this time?"
Jensen tips his head and can't stop a smirk in reply to Jared's darling face looking up at him. "This time I'm pathetically in love," he admits quietly, ignoring Chad's groan, and leaning in to quickly kiss Jared.
"Me, too," Jared whispers.
With a wink, Jensen heads off, though not quick enough to avoid Jared's slap at his ass, or the catcalls going up in the diner. In defense, he glares at Jared and yells, "Hands off the product!"
Jared spins in the booth, rising to his knees, and holds his hands over his chest as he begins to wail.
Sugar pie, honey bunch. You know that I love you. I can't help myself ...
Unfortunately, the rest of the diner joins Jared in a horrifically off-key rendition ... over and over and over again. Even more unfortunate is Jensen's inability to keep the smile off his face for the rest of the night, or the excitement building as he anticipates ending his shift in the morning.
He thinks maybe he'll meet that hot plumber in the parking lot again.
I should totally be working Have a ficlet!
Player Number 2: Part Deux
560 words, Part of the Player Number 2 Verse
For zuben_eschamali pointing out this Texts From Last Night post.
He thought last year was bad when Sexy Rainbow Bright wouldn't take no for an answer, or when a coworker had called off, forcing Jensen to work the Halloween night shift alone. Somehow, this year is absolutely killer. He's seen more Bettleguise stripes than ever before as douchey fratboys are trying their hand at Robin Thicke.
Worse yet is the conga line of Walter Whites who nearly upend Jensen's tray of precariously placed plates full of hangover cures like fried eggs, bacon double cheeseburgers, and fried eggs on bacon double cheeseburgers.
When Drunk Miley Cyrus tries to start a fight with High Miley Cyrus, Jensen nearly loses it. He shoves Drunk Miley back into her booth then grabs her untouched triple-scoop ice cream sundae and slides it onto High Miley's table.
"Oh, duuuuuude," High Miley says with the laziest of smiles ever possible. "You're the best waiter to ever wait."
"You're welcome," he replies with a quick salute. Then he smiles when Drunk Miley is suddenly interested in the monte cristo sandwich her companion (the sluttiest wolf Jensen has ever seen, including that week-long expedition into het porn when he was 13 and still unsure about his leanings) is ignoring in favor of drunk texts. Which she reads aloud.
Drunk people are terrible when he's still on the clock.
Jensen clears his throat, takes a deep breath, and pulls his notepad out of his back pocket to greet a new table ... then stares at the plunger stuck to the table. To his left is Chad with hair shaggier and darker than when Jensen last saw him a few months ago, sleeveless leather coat and black tee beneath it, and a crossbow sharing the seat with him.
"You're Daryl, Walking Dead?"
Chad nods and Jensen looks to Jared, unable to summon the strength to roll his eyes or smile. It's just one of those nights, and Jared is dressed in a green shirt, blue overalls, green baseball hat, and the same obnoxious fake mustache from last year.
"And you're unoriginal."
"Well, that's rude," Jared complains.
"But right," Chad mumbles while flipping his menu to Jensen. "Reuben with onion rings and a chocolate malt."
Jensen scribbles the order then turns to Jared. "What can I get you?"
Jared tweaks the mustache and queues up a playful tone. "Just your number, sweetheart."
He can only sigh. "You're really doing this again? Dressing as Luigi and trying lame lines?"
"As I recall ..." Jared leans towards Jensen and winks. "It worked last time."
Jensen shakes his head and writes down Jared's regular order: patty melt on rye, extra crispy, side of ranch for the fries, large root beer. "Unfortunately I was pathetically single at the time."
"And this time?"
Jensen tips his head and can't stop a smirk in reply to Jared's darling face looking up at him. "This time I'm pathetically in love," he admits quietly, ignoring Chad's groan, and leaning in to quickly kiss Jared.
"Me, too," Jared whispers.
With a wink, Jensen heads off, though not quick enough to avoid Jared's slap at his ass, or the catcalls going up in the diner. In defense, he glares at Jared and yells, "Hands off the product!"
Jared spins in the booth, rising to his knees, and holds his hands over his chest as he begins to wail.
Sugar pie, honey bunch. You know that I love you. I can't help myself ...
Unfortunately, the rest of the diner joins Jared in a horrifically off-key rendition ... over and over and over again. Even more unfortunate is Jensen's inability to keep the smile off his face for the rest of the night, or the excitement building as he anticipates ending his shift in the morning.
He thinks maybe he'll meet that hot plumber in the parking lot again.