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wheelthefridge · 5 years

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in honor of last night having been my last ever shift dishwashing at the same restaurant i’ve been at for the past four years here’s an absurdly long list of random chaotic moments that literally no one asked for that i’ve been compiling since day one:

bj, with a half full gallon of orange juice: this expired two months ago. *pours down drain* that was a long time ago

sam: YOU! I HAVE A BONE TO PICK WITH YOU!! *carries on normally with no explanation* bj: smack that! that too! smack those vegetables! punch that burger in the nose! chop that bun! bob: no, flick the bun. you have to flick it.

*bad and boujee playing* bj: walks into kitchen, singing bj: you better know when to hold em, know when to fold em, know when to walk away, know when to run bj: walks out of kitchen, still singing

me: hey can you put the wet floor sign out for me dylan: sure dylan: *slips while putting the sign out* me:

sam: get this- i haven’t smoked pot in like three days and my brain is ready to roll! yeah!

joe: ha! oldest trick in the book i just started writing

dude @bar: ten percent of people are over 6'1" other dude: what about 6'2" dude 1: what? no. ten percent of people are OVER 6'1" - so that includes 6'2" dude 2: idk I know a lot of tall guys. taller than me dude 1: what? i’m saying- just- ten percent of everyone in the whole world- you know how many people there are in the world? 7 billion– dude 2: i thought it was six billion dude 1: no, 7 billion- ten percent of 7 billion—

joe, digging through the trash: i’m just gonna peruse through here,, aaaaannnd….. nope not here me: what’re u looking for Joe: …..a book

didi: is eating a pistachio katherine: is that sour cream

sam: some dirty whorebag wants two pickles

joe: sam she am. that’s right. dr seuss wrote a book about her

katherine: oh my goddd this song is always on i’m so tired of it joe: is it? i don’t think i’ve heard it before carolyn: eh it’s all just one long brazilian song to me

katherine: look at my straw i put it in the pencil sharpener

sam: i’m on crack cocaine. you heard it here

sam, aggressively putting silverware in the tray: just the way the cookie crumbles me: yeah? sam, fake crying: yes

adele: if you’re ready- sam: what if I’m not bob: too bad. she only cares if she’s ready

something: *breaks* sam: time for the mop. and by mop i mean… this thing *holds up dustpan*

mike: you should go on junior master chef…. and only make fries

sam, quietly as she speedwalks by me: panic panic panic panic panic panic panic panic

sam, beginning of the night: my goal is to make at least forty bucks tonight. hopefully sixty sam, later that night: i’ve made five dollars

sam, pouring a drink into the trash right next to the sink: you know, im not sure why i poured that in the trash. i’ve had a very off day

katherine, after accidentally spraying salsa on herself: i just sprayed salsa all over myself bj: i feel like that too sometimes. i love salsa so much

sam: can you imagine if i did like hardcore drugs how messed up i would be- i’m messed up soberly

someone: what’re you supposed to feed twenty kids kerry: pizza bj: vodka

sam: will you let bob know there’s gonna be seven in the snug bj: seven in the snug? that’s my band name. we’re really good

edson: *spins cover on counter and stares at it for solid thirty seconds before putting his finger down to stop it* edson: good.

sam: what should i draw bj: you should draw casey, hanging from a cliff, with a pterodactyl flying towards them who is on fire, but, seems optimistic about it

bj: life is too short for low fat cheese. remember that.

sam, beginning of night, in a really good mood: guess what i’m drunk and high right now sam, later that night: i was just pouring a beer and i dropped it. like my hand just let go of it sam, end of night: i’m never doing this again

joe: you know who didn’t clock out yet?? i have two thumbs! joe: ……wait joe: you know who has two thumbs and hasn’t clocked out yet?? this guy!! me: there ya go buddy

bob: i’ve slept fifteen hours in the past four days me: that’s not good bob: yeah

edson: look edson: *holds out hand with top spinning in his palm* *giggles*

sam: i cannot wait for this day to be over me: it’s barely started sam: i took a shot before i got here. i have more in my car

bob: hi sam sam: hi bob didi: hi sam sam: fuck off

joe: her? oh yeah her name is sarah whitaker katherine: oh i think i know her joe: that’s funny because i just made that up. i’m willing to bet money that she’s nineteen tho me: why joe: bc i overheard her say that she’s nineteen

joe: i’m gonna send you a video but you can’t watch it now it’s needs full attention with headphones and the lights off

bj: if you lose your hand, don’t replace it with a fork. that would be a bad choice. i know it’s probably the cheapest option, right up there with stick, but just spend the money.

bj, on a different day: i think if you were to get your hands cut off, getting them replaced with plates would be a very bad idea. you can dig. and you can toss. but that’s about it. no playing the saxophone.

colby: *doesn’t show up to work* bj: maybe i should leave him a message of just me crying

katherine: i think an old man just asked me to live with him

sam: wait *pulls celery strings out of her mouth* that just came out of my throat

bob: i’m such a grump tonight. i’m in a good mood i’m just so grumpy. bob: maybe i’m not in a good mood…

bj, after sending christa downstairs to get liquor for the bar: i put a live cobra down there too so… if she comes back with it dead in her hands…. she’s a champ. and that’s that.

bj: i had a dog today did you have a dog? me: no bj: oh. well.

dylan, holding phone camera at joe: hey joe can you pull ur shirt down joe, pulling the collar of his shirt halfway down his chest: yeah like this? dylan, taking picture: yeah thanks

bj: HI-YAH carley: you’re a ninja!! bj: yes. don’t be alarmed. i only use my powers for good.

bj, with one bottle in each hand, pouring water in the sink, mimicking cow milking motions: it’s like a cow. mooooooeeeeeeuuuuuhhhhhhgggg aaaaaauuuuuueuejhshhsii. that’s what cows sound like right?

bj: we have a dog, and we’re getting chickens. i’m not really sure why were getting chickens. do i consider myself a farmer? not really.

bj: we should make a youtube channel of just me saying really random things to you and you not responding to me whatsoever me: mhmm

nancy: I’m sleeping

sam: *pours drink out on counter next to sink* sam: wHAT the FuCK was that!? why did i do that?? i’ve lost it! i’ve hit rock bottom!!

sam: *bends over* ughhhhhhhhhhhhh *straightens up* ok i’m fine

bj: yum! that’s how i rate the soup. two yums up!! *laughs for like a full minute*

sam: i got my motorcycle license over the weekend and now all everyone’s saying to me is “no don’t get a motorcycle they’re so dangerous” like shut the fuck up if i die i die it’s my choice

bj: i think if i were to be turned into some kind of commercial type of food, if i got turned into a nugget, i think i’d be indignant. i’ve lived my whole life and now i’m a nugget??? “oh i was a great roasted-“ i was a nugget. i was eaten with fries out of a box with a small soda.

bj: hello everybody. i have arrived. please remain calm. bob: *screams*

radio: the fastest lawn mower in the world goes up to 150 miles per hour! bob: …….why??

sam: i just meowed in scotty’s face and he was completely unfazed by it. like a full on Meow.

bob: lemme just touch these live wires with my wet hands bj: bob has gone offline

katherine: i totally forgot to put their order in for i don’t even know how long me: ……..i’m sure it’ll be fine katherine: i mean, nothing matters, right? right. nothing matters.

bj: hey did you guys hear that kate: yeah what was that bj: oh i was just yelling……….. about the soup kate: me: katherine: bj: i’ll try to keep it down next time

bob: you sleep a lot when you’re old. it’s just practice for death. getting ready for The Big Sleep. let’s see how do i wanna go out? on my back?? nah not for me. on my front babey!

didi: hi sam sam: SHUT UP didi, quieter: okay…… sam: i love you didi: no bj: so you’re a grownup now. that’s means you have to do grown up things, like, pay for dinner and stuff? me: uh huh bj: it’s all downhill from here

bj: pon pon the van poco. right? me: mhmm bj: probably. i mean. i’m no doctor, but

random woman @ bar: we are the matrix. We. Are. The Matrix.

bj, to the tune of frosty the snowman: clunkity clunk clunk clunkity clunk clunk look at all this stuff. clunkity clunk clunk clunkity clunk clunk making casey’s job tough! pretty good right?? i just made it up

bj: *walks into kitchen* YES! that’s all i have to say. that’s it. BOBS killing it. DIDIS killing it. casey MURDERED it. you’re welcome. *walks out of kitchen* bj: today is the second day in a row my dog has eaten my lunch. yesterday and then today. it’s my own fault really bob: well you know what they say about men who like floppy french fries. *doesn’t elaborate*

sam: there’s a toy baby in my section. like just a toy baby taking up a seat in my section. what do i do like do i move the bitch? do i leave her there??

bob, talking to himself: if you get sick tomorrow, just remember. it’s your own fault for eating food off the floor.

bob, to katherine: no, you don’t have to mop the carpet

bj: cheeeesy.

laura: if i get through tonight without a heart attack it’ll be incredible. if i do have a heart attack tho just let me go

caldo: *unintelligible yelling* SELLING my BODY for SEX *more unintelligible yelling*

bob: my fathers brother sent all his kids to australia. i guess he figured at least one of them would make it

caldo: i don’t trust people who go out to eat tuna fish

bob: can you make some more guacamole soon we’re running low laura: pulls five (5) avocados from her pockets

bob: he looks like jesus. well. he looks like what white people think jesus looked like

sam: yeah. Please. eat some more mother Fucking crackers.

bj: i feel like i gave birth to the eggplant stacks tonight. and honestly? if my child looked like that? i’d be proud. proud to have an eggplant child

bj: alright everybody let’s get the fuf out of here!! i said fuf not f- it’s safe. f u f starts and ends with soft letters no one gets hurt. any word that starts with a soft letter and ends with a hard letter is bad news… i feel like every time i come in here i annoy you guys. casey’s one dumbass comment away from killing me. “hey so what are your thoughts on grass?” “that’s it” *mimics shooting a gun*

ilia: -and the dogs gonna get diabetes- katherine, indignantly: i cleaned it really well!

mickey: i’ll tell you one thing. crack is good.

sam: some lady just rolled up to the bar, no bra, nipples beamin through the shirt- LETS GET IT!!!!

caldo: *speed walks into kitchen and shotguns a beer over the trash* ok i’m back. i should not have smoked this morning

dom: little kid just picked up a knife and went “oh cool i can stab someone” me, katherine, and sam in unison: good dom: yeah the dad took it away

sam: my friend was like “why is your go to dance move just to snap” and i was like “i don’t know, i’m white” *shrugs*

bj: someone just asked me if i’m having fun. am i having fun? i don’t know if i’m having fun. there are certainly other things i’d rather be doing right now, but i don’t know if i can definitively say that i’m Not having fun.

bj: some jobs require Only a ladle bj, thirty seconds later, after walking away and coming back: sometimes, also a funnel

bj, @ laura who’s eating cornbread: you cornbread eating chef!!! laura: bj: laura: bj: i’m just saying facts in a weird way. you know like you’re in trouble.

sam: *war cry* *spits out gum* *walks away*

bj: what kind of smoothie? Soup Smoothie!!

katherine: so this woman ordered some hot water so i gave it to her and her husband says you know what that’s for right and i’m like ….to drink? and he says nope! and doesn’t explain so i’m just like ………..okay! and walk away bc i don’t even want to know

bj: there’s no shame in it! A Grown Man Can Bathe In Yogurt!!!

bj, leaning down very close to to-go box: i love you

bob: anyone want a drink? brian: whatever’s your strongest bob: milk it is

guy at bar: sUE HIM?!?!??? oh i’d sue him yeah

sam: who orders something extra cold?? like, you need to Die now thanks.

sam: do you dare me to drink this buffalo sauce me: yes laura, walking by: snort it

sam: one more day. just one more day laura: of what sam: waking up

bob: *is trying to explain easter to jewish laura* laura: wait so he died… then he came back to life?? then he died Again??? bob: he died. then he came back just to tell people he was alive. then he said SEE YA and ascended to heaven

sam: i HATE margaritas. i don’t know why i just made myself one.

bob: wow. i have this overpowering urge to just go home.

bj, putting back a slotted spoon: this is a bad choice for dressing. a bad choice.

me: *catches a plate about to fall* bj: woah! smooth moves!! spider-man? maybe.

danny: so you know how at my other job everyone calls me daddy?

sam: *dumps out two full wine glasses* i fucked up. tell no one.

me: remember when we used to be able to leave early? bob: no. i think we imagined it.

danny: i didn’t realize we served DICK here -a few min later- danny: sorry i just got out of work and i’m all fired up

sam: my moms drunk and she won’t go home

bob: hey wasn’t that slang for mari- bj: cocaine.

bj: *kicks kitchen door open* YEE-HAW!!!!

danny: sorry casey me: what for danny: for having to deal with me me: yeah *shrugs* danny: they should pay you more me: yeah

didi: i kill you ilia: do it now didi: no ilia: do it i wanna die

danny, about a burger: we’ve got ourselves a squirter!!

sam: is that a chicken patty sydney: it’s my dog

sam, on my last night with her: lets get casey TRASHED tonight

sam: are you gonna go dancing in new york didi: yes laura: whore it up

#this is insanely long #feel free to scroll past but you might get a chuckle #mickeys is not a restaurant it’s a den of chaotic energy #also if ur curious bj is a bartender and basically a manager #bob is the head cook and kitchen manager #sam is a waitress and bartender (and lesbian)#didi (pronounced gigi) is the buffest man i know and also gay and brazilian #oh and he’s a cook lmao #i got too caught up in describing his buff and gayness i forgot to mention his role in the restaurant #and katherine’s my sister #i think that covers all the main people #my post #feel free to rb but i doubt anyone would want to????#things heard at mickeys

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shinobicyrus · 7 years

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“Haunted”

A belated birthday present for my very good friend @beccadrawsstuff, who wished for something involving any of her OCs. I decided to do something with her character Phuong, Tucker’s eventual wife. Happy Birthday Becs! Sorry this was so late!

“Oh hun. Nobody warned you about Amity before you moved here, did they?”

Phuong was already having second thoughts about calling that number Linh had given her. The woman who answered Fenton Works’ main line was disarmingly chipper, and seemed to accept Phuong’s stuttered, embarrassed explanation of the situation without an ounce of skepticism.

“I don’t usually work the phones but we’re actually kind of short staffed at the moment,” Phuong had already forgotten her name. Something with an ‘i’? “It doesn’t sound like bloody threats on the walls or ectoplasm clogging the sink level of haunting; we can get a guy over to you tomorrow afternoon, about eleven. Is that okay?”

No, it was perfectly fine. Just the right amount of time for Phuong to hang up and feel foolish for being desperate and jumpy and gullible enough to resort to this, no matter how many times Linh tried to explain it to her. There were so many logical, non-paranormal explanations that made sense, considering her circumstances. Moving to an unfamiliar town, new apartment with its own quirks and night-noises, she wasn’t used to living alone. It had only been two months since the funeral.

She still had a little camp-out in the living room with her laptop, armored with blankets and the tried and true childhood defense against all manner of monsters by leaving every light on, electric bill be damned. Because she was an adult, dammit.

The pendulum had swung again by morning, frazzled and on edge from yet another sleepless night, the back of her neck prickling with the constant, persistent sensation of not being Alone. She almost jumped out of her skin when the intercom buzzed.

Past the point of caring, Phuong answered the door with her hair uncombed since yesterday, still wearing sweats and a t-shirt. She didn’t know what she expected- Bill Murray? (preferable) a shifty guy in a tacky redone exterminator’s jumpsuit but for ghosts? (likely) Kate McKinnon? (If only).

....a handsome man with tied-back dreadlocks and a tacky but endearing Pacific Rim t-shirt?

“Uh...Ms. Lôc Thi?” He shifted awkwardly trying to balance the gear hanging off his shoulder, shake her hand, and nudge up the black-rimmed glasses that almost hid the tired bags under his eyes. Phuong was impressed- the pronunciation wasn’t half bad. “I’m Tucker. I hear you’re having a bit of a ghost problem?”

“Lacking a better explanation? Yeah.”

He smiled wryly, like he was enjoying an inside joke. “Just moved here, huh?”

“Why do people keeping knowing that?”

“If you make it past six months, I’m sure you’ll be snerking at tourists with the best of ‘em,” He said, and motioned behind her. “May I come in?”

“Huh? Oh, sorry.” Against her better judgement, she stepped aside and let him in. “And what’s that supposed to mean, ‘if I make it six months’?”

“Most people move away before then,” He glanced around her entryway- like he could spot...ghost droppings, or something- spotted her shoes on the mat, and shuffled out of his sneakers. “Didn’t you wonder why the rent was so low?”

She did, actually, but as a grad racing to finish her degree and juggle a job before her loan eligibility expired, she wasn’t in much a position to complain. “I considered mentioning to the landlord that he was undercharging me, but I haven’t gotten around to it, yet.”

“Ha, I’m sure it’s on the top of your To Do list,” he said good-naturedly. The...case hanging on this shoulder reminded Phuong of old sound equipment- thick like a nineties laptop. Tucker walked further into her house, quiet and intrusive in his mismatched superhero socks, and started waving a wand around like some kind of Geiger counter.

“I heard you talked with Dani.” Phuong resisted scampering over and hiding all the wreckage of her camp-out on the couch. Tucker went by a sad pile of discarded clothes, studying the readings on his...thingy. “She said something about noises? Like people moving in empty rooms? Whispers? Things getting moved?”

“It’s...it’s crazy,” Phuong shook her head, like she wasn’t the one who had called them. “It was probably my neighbors. They’re always too loud.”

"Hmm. Yeah, my neighbors like to break into my place and rearrange my dishes too,” He said, with the same kind of sarcasm Phuong had mastered after years of customer service jobs- so subtle people weren’t sure it was serious or not.

Having taking his ‘readings’ in her living room, he did a cursory sweep over her shelves upon shelves of movies and moved on to the kitchen.

Phuong stood in the threshold and crossed her arms, biting back a good Ghostbusters joke as he examined her fridge. “Well having a neighbor with a sick sense of humor and a Poltergeist fetish sounds slightly more logical than ‘dead people did it.’” Or it could be like that woman who secretly lived in someone’s attic for years, only coming out when he left. That was an internet search result that had her jumping at every thump on the ceiling. She’d almost prefer grumpy dead people.

“This house is cleeeaan,” Tucker said in a tinny, breathy imitation. He held up his buzzing doodad. “But seriously though, this place actually isn’t clean. It’s pretty dang un-clean.”

“What...is that thing?”

“It has a really, really stupid name,” He sighed. “But it says there’s a...’Level-1 Non-Manifesting Entity’ here. Level 1 is good. Non-manifesting is even better. But uh...just to be safe, how about we step outside for a sec-”

“So what does that all mean? Your -airquotes- ‘device’ magically detects a completely invisible and unverifiable thing-”

“Did you just say ‘airquotes?’”

“-that you can conveniently get rid of with- let me guess- an application of super scientific snake oil- ”

“Actually it’s called ecto-rejcto...” He raised his hands and glanced around the kitchen warily. “But maybe we can talk about that not in the apartment.”

“I tried being open-minded, I really did. And you seem like a nice guy but I’ve been letting my own issues play tricks on me and I’ve let this farce about ‘hauntings’ and ‘ghost exterminators’ play long enough, so I’m saying sorry in a polite but not really sorry way and the bill be damned but I think I’d like you to leave and-”

Tucker raised a careful eyebrow at her. “...and what?”

And there was a kitchen knife floating next to his head.

A kitchen knife. Floating.

By itself.

Phuong moved without thinking. Tucker backed away from her, startled, and she shoved him back against the cabinets half a second before the knife flew between them. The half of the blade not embedded in the wall quivered.

The fridge rumbled and rattled like a phone, trying to vibrate off a table. The cabinets flapped with angry wooden claps, dishes hurled themselves in a ceramic mass suicide.

Green, spectral hands came next, grasping the edge of the sink pulling...something up. See-through, casting a green glow that thickened and congealed on itss iridescent edges like nuclear waste. A goddamn ghost with a mass of eyes bubbling and popping on its face like zits split open its almost-head like a wound and hissed directly at her. A gaping maw of needle teeth, accusing and furious.

Tuck stepped in front of her. The wand dangled from a cord at his side. beeping urgently until he picked it up.

“’Possible Level 3 Hazardous Malefactor.’” He let the thing drop. “Thanks, Jack.”

Phuong clung to his shoulder. “What do we do?”

Every single eyeball crammed on the ghost’s headmouthface swiveled at them simultaneously.

“Run.”

Phuong ran. She turned and bolted for the front door. Tucker grabbed her shoulder and pulled her off-balance. The ghost barreled past where she’d just been, now between them and the only way out of the apartment- unless they wanted to fly out the windo-

The window!

“Bedroom to the left!” She said. “Fire escape!”

Down the hall, feet thumping. Phuong didn’t look behind them but saw the glow chasing them across the walls. Did ghosts even cast a shadow? You had to have a body for a shadow, right? Not having a body didn’t seem to deter it from doing lots of things.

Phuong slammed the door and locked it.

“Nooot really gonna stop it much,” Tucker told her, right as a green claw reached through the door and blindly swiped at her. Phuong backed away, watching as the rest of it pushed itself though it, more green slime poured from the dead wood like ghostly sap.

Tucker had thrown his case on the bed and was assembling something. “Hey, Tuck, do you mind taking care of this lady’s apartment?” He mimicked phone-girl’s voice. “Don’t worry, it sounds like a total snooze. You'll be fine!’”

Phoung ran to him. “What are you doing?!” She noticed the metal cylinder he was screwing together. “Is that a thermos? What the hell good is a thermos going to do?!”

“Trust in the thermos the thermos is good.”

The ghost slipped through the door, eyes twitching in every which direction, its mouth moved and spoke gibberish that sounded like warbling white noise

Tucker raised the thermos at its face. It paused. Every eye peered down it.

“’sup.” He said.

“Gragh?” It asked.

“I don’t really have a good one-liner so...bye.” He pushed a button on the side of it.

A light poured from the end of the thermos. The ghost recoiled instantly- but was unable to pull away. As though it were caught in a vacuum, the ghost screeched and hissed and struggled, but its face hideously stretched until its entire vaporous body unraveled and swirled, caught in a vortex of light until in it was pulled into the thermos entirely.

Tucker released the button and held the smoking thermos. “Consider yourself evicted. Wait- dammit! That was a good one, too.”

Phuong stared at the thermos. Already the smoke around it was clearing. It obviously wasn’t hot, since Tucker was easily holding it. That thing was just...gone.

Holy crap there had been real ghost in her house and it just tried to kill her. Kill them.

She almost died. Would have died, if it weren’t for him.

She should. Probably say something.

“...does this mean you’re charging me extra?”

Tucker let out a surprised laugh, hands shaky and slightly giddy from adrenaline. “Well...you did save me from getting shish-kebabed. I think I can throw in a discount somewhere in there.”

He stayed and helped her clean up.

Her sink was covered with green goo, there was a knife in her kitchen wall, claw marks raking down her hallway, and one of her movie shelves had been knocked over. Phuong was almost...thankful for it. It was a physical reminder that it had been real. It had happened.

Tucker made a quick call back to Fentonworks to explain the situation. By some strange consensus, the two of them started on the living room, up-righting the shelf and reorganizing the dusty dvds that were scattered around. At least nothing had been badly damaged- though it did give Tucker an opportunity to poke fun at her tastes.

“I’ve never even heard of most of these movies,” Tucker read the back of The Grand Budapest Hotel, completely unaware of the blasphemy he had just uttered.

“This isn’t even the shelf of my of obscure films- that was a pretty big hit.”

“Meh, doesn’t sound like it’s for me.”

“If you hadn’t just saved my life I’d be tempted to throw you out the window on principle. Headfirst.”

“I’ll just have to take full advantage of your good graces for as long as I can.”

Phuong blushed. Tucker went back to sorting DVD boxes, completely unaware.

“You and my friend Sam would get along pretty well,” Tucker squinted at A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence. “She’s a movie hipster too.”

“Having tastes outside of the celluloid fast food Hollywood calls cinema doesn’t make me a ‘movie hipster’.”

“Hey, some of us plebeians like our double-unnecessary sequel burgers with a side of fried Michael Bay Explosions.”

“That mixed metaphor just offended several of my sensibilities all at the same time.”

“I’m multi-talented.”

“Okay, Mr. Foley. I’ll give you one chance to redeem yourself. Name one movie that you think was an underrated gem.”

“The Wicker Man.”

“Okay, I’m actually kind of impressed. Most people wouldn’t-”

“The Nick Cage remake.”

Slowly, Phuong stood, dropped the pile of movies she had been organizing, and made to walk to the kitchen.

“Uh...where are you going?”

“To pry that knife out of the wall. I finally understand it, now.”

Sam, as it turned out, was one of Tucker’s best friends from high school, and had married his other friend from high school, Danny, whose family were the town’s local inventors and ghost-hunters, a phrase Phuong would have laughed over a few hours earlier.

Sam was currently recovering from a difficult pregnancy, and both new parents had their hands full with their newborn son- and Tucker’s godson. He gushed over the photos of little James in his phone, explaining how he volunteered to pick up the slack at Fentonworks.

“So you’re more like a...substitute ghost hunter? How do you even prepare for something like...” Phuong gestured at the damage around her apartment. “This?”

“It’s called four years at Casper High. I’m pretty sure half our graduating class could be used as an anti-ghost militia in case we get invaded again. Actually, come to think of it, that totally did happen one time. We all got matching jumpsuits.”

“At this point you could actually be bullshitting me and I’d have no idea.”

Tucker eyed her incredulously. “You seriously knew nothing about Amity when you moved here? I know the government purges youtube and major news stories about it whenever they can, but still...”

“I wasn’t really...” Phuong stopped scrubbing the ectoplasm in her sink. “It’s been a crazy few months. There were so many things going on, finding a town with ridiculously low apartments for rent seemed like the only piece of good luck I’ve had in a long time.” She scrubbed a little harder, the rhythmic scrape scrape scrape of her brush syncing with Tucker sweeping up broken dishes behind her.

“Do you want to hear something stupid?”

Tucker stopped sweeping briefly, then started again. “I doubt it’s stupid, but go ahead.”

“For a while there, when the noises, and the rearranging furniture, and the whispering at night finally started getting to me- when I started not completely dismissing my cousin when she tried to explain what was going on in this town- I thought.” She braced both of her hands on the lip of the sink, right over the stained handprints of the monster that made her life miserable in more ways that even it knew.

“A part of me thought- that maybe. That it might have been my dad.”

“I’ve seen a few family haunts. Not all of them were bad. We even left some of ‘em alone. You called us because that ghost was practically terrorizing you. Do you think your dad would have done that to you, if it really had been him?”

Phuong started scrubbing the sink again, not sure how to answer.

“Hey.”

Tucker turned. He stood in her doorway again, the thermos with the captured ghost safely stored in the case against his hip.

“So...” Phuong clasped her hands in front of her, trying not to fidget. This was a bad idea, but it was one of those bad ideas where not doing it was worse than the act itself. “I don’t really. Well. I know that technically I’m your client. Or you are -technically- an employee I’ve hired. But I think we can both agree that this was a bit more atypical than calling the Orkin Man, since we ended up saving each other lives, and all. I was wondering if- maybe- when you leave and you’re no longer here because you’re doing a favor as a good friend or because I’m paying you. If, maybe, it would be okay if I took you out to dinner. As a thank you.”

Tucker stared with the look a man completely taken by surprise. Which, really, surprised her. Sure, his taste in movies was terrible, but he was a smart, funny, attractive man who carried baby pictures of his godson in his phone, helped out his close friends, and rescued aspiring movie critics from vicious monsters.

“Dinner.” Tucker said, voice faint. “Sorry, I’m just. I don’t want to be that guy-misreading signals and making embarrassing assumptions that will end with neither of us speaking again but- it kinda sounds like you’re asking me out on a date.”

“I-” Phuong considered a few good lines ‘sounds like you’re right’ or ‘I can’t speak for that guy but I’m okay with ‘this’ guy. No. He’s asking straight-up for for a clear answer. No beating around the bush. “Yes. I’m asking you out on a date. I’m not sure how we’re gonna top ‘saving my life from killer ghosts’ but I know a really great Italian place with gnocchi that will do its best.”

“Oh.” That was not a guy enthused with the prospect of going out with a lady. Phuong was already feeling a preemptive stab of rejection but kept her face even. “I’m sorry,” Tucker rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m...I’m flattered. Really. You have no idea how big of a boost this is considering- well.” He adjusted his glasses and looked at her with those baggy, tired eyes. “I was just married until about six months ago. It was...” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “As far as divorces go, my lawyer said it was a pretty clean break, but there were still things that ended up...broken.

“Again- I’m really flattered, and I’m really sorry that I can’t. That I’m not in the best place to start trying to pick all that back up again. That wouldn’t be fair to either of us.”

Maybe it was her own disappointment, maybe it was the heaviness of his shoulders, or the heartsore look in his eyes. Maybe she was a tad biased because of the life-saving thing, but whoever Tucker Foley’s ex-spouse was, they were officially on Phuong’s shit-list for All Time.

She doesn’t remember how long they stood there. Her in her recently haunted apartment, him standing in the hall. Finally, she found her voice.

“How about a quiet, non-romantic lunch, instead? As...friends?”

“Yeah,” Tucker nodded, the weight in his shoulders relaxing some. “I...I think I can handle that.”

#HAPPY BIRTHDAY BECS #I had to switch gears when I reread your bio for her #good thing too #Tucker Foley #Phuong Foley #Danny Phantom #other people's ocs #OCs #my writing #my fanfiction #gift fic #I hope I captured her personality right?#I'm slightly sleep deprived so hopefully that helped me channel her a little #Phuong seems like a firecracker though I like her #you insult my exquisite indie movies #A DUEL TO THE DEATH THEN #their dates can never go to movies though #movie critics are like chefs #you can't take a chef to a restaurant without them critiquing the food

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