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introspectivememories · 4 months

Text

what's wrong with data analyst bernard?

summary: tim's a workaholic ceo. bernard is, to put it simply, a down-on-his-luck loser with a kid to take care of. somewhere along the line, they meet. (very loosely based on the 2018 hit kdrama, "what's wrong with secretary kim?")

A/N: for @chamiryokuroi bc this fanart has given me brainrot since the moment i saw it. but also bc, i missed writing and your art helped. i hope you like it. (more notes at the end.)

Today is a good day, Bernard thinks happily, brand new ID badge bouncing on his tie. It's his first day at Wayne Ent. and Mori had sent him off with a hug and muttered, "have a good day, Tou-san." It's been bouncing around in his head all day. Tou-san, Tou-san, Tou-san, he's really a dad now. He's got to make sure Mori has everything he needs and this new job is going to make sure he can do that.

Shaking his head once to clear it, he takes a sip of the complimentary coffee a team member bought him for his first day. His team leader, Young-joon Lee, is taking him on a tour of the building. Young-joon is a wonderful man in his late 30s but it's very clear that he's been consumed by the office lifestyle.

"...and here is our magnificent lobby!" Young-joon is saying as he tunes back in. His team leader spreads his arms wide out as he speaks, "Everyone knows the lobby but it's my personal philosophy that making friends or at least being on amicable terms with the ground floor staff will make your life easier."

Bernard laughs politely, "I know what you mean. I can't tell you how many times being nice to the host at the restaurant I used to work at saved my butt during rush hour."

"A man after my own heart!" Young-joon says, smiling widely as he leads him to the help desk.

Bernard tilts his head up to look at the skylight. It's a gorgeous thing with little animal motifs running alongside it. It lights up the lobby bringing a welcoming feeling into it. With the sunlight pouring into the room, along with the din of busy workers in slacks running to and fro, it really feels like stepping into a movie.

Are you seeing me Darls?, he thinks with a childlike glee, hand coming up to thumb at his badge again, I made it!

"This, my friend," Young-joon says, pulling up to the help-desk, "is our wonder-duo. Tamara and Abhishek. They practically run this building. Lord knows we'd be tripping all over ourselves without them."

Tamara and Abhishek smile as they get introduced.

"They run this building?" he asks confusedly.

"You see, young padawan," Abhishek says, "not only do we help the people that come in here asking questions or for instructions, we also answer any questions the staff has for us."

"Things like, 'What's HR’s number?' or 'Can you page Data for me?' or 'No seriously, I'm calling HR on this man right now. What is their number?'" Tamara says grinning.

Bernard laughs. It feels like that's all he's been doing since he got here. "You have to tell me the story on that one day."

"Sorry," Tamara says, faux-apologetic, "the minimum clearance on that story is half-a-year. Gotta level up."

His cheeks hurt from smiling. This is his and Mori's new beginning. This is where they level up. Nothing's gonna stop him now.

"Do you know the story behind that one?" he asks, turning to Young-joon.

"Of course! But where would be the fun in telling you? You have to stay the six months and if luck comes my way, longer."

"You want me for longer?"

"Of course, I saw the way you worked during those practice problems in the interview. I had to fight the other team leaders for you. It was brutal."

"Get back I say!" Young-joon says, miming a sword fight. A pleased warmth builds in his chest; they wanted him, they wanted him!

Darls you better be fucking watching this. I'm movin' up in the world.

"Ooh, send me that footage. I wanna see our newest recruits skills," Abhishek says.

"You got the data team fighting over you?" Tamara asks, eyebrows raised, "I wanna see it—"

Whatever she was going to say is cut off by the sound of both of their pagers pinging. Immediately going stock still, they start typing on their computers.

Bernard turns to Young-joon confused but his team leader looks like nothing is out of the ordinary.

"The boss is coming." Young-joon says, like that's a reasonable explanation for two people shutting down in the middle of the conversation, "It's always quite a spectacle and they always have to notify the other execs. Just watch."

Still, the boss? Maybe Bruce Wayne will say 'hi' to him and he'll charm the CEO and Mr. Wayne can figure out a way to—

No, no. He's done making those kinds of fantasies. Nobody is coming to help. Bernard is going to figure out his life on his own, he is going to take such good care of his kid, and he is not going to wait for some rich billionaire to swoop in and take care of him. He got this far didn't he? He'll get even farther.

He and his team leader lean against the help desk sipping coffee as they wait for the CEO to come in and sure enough, a black Rolls Royce pulls up to the driveway in the front. The minute the door opens, flashes from the paparazzi's cameras start going off. Out steps a bodyguard in a black suit with an umbrella opened. From below the umbrella he sees a nice pair of brown loafers step out. The CEO seems to be wearing a navy blue suit today. The paparazzi roars and the flashes increase.

"Oh wow," a man remarks a few feet away from him, "the circus is strong today, huh?" His friend laughs.

A woman wearing red heels steps out after the CEO, the paparazzi flashes decrease dramatically. More bodyguards exit after the woman and form a square around the CEO and his assistant/secretary. They shuffle towards the entrance where he sees the elderly doormen greet the executives with a smile. Whatever they say is lost to the sound of the city but the doormen laugh and push the doors open.

Young-joon's been making small talk throughout the entrance and Bernard tries to keep up but whatever the hell is going on at the entrance is way more interesting than anything his team leader is talking about. As they enter the guards spread out and dissolve the square. The woman comes into view first, red heels with a black slacks and a white button down. She's holding a long coat in one hand and a laptop bag slung over her shoulder. She's gorgeous and clearly the one in charge, going by the way she barks orders at the guards.

Young-joon says something and he turns around to respond, grabbing his coffee cup off the desk counter. His CEO's loafers tap across the lobby's marble floor, something about it is comforting. A lull in the room's conversations causes the CEO's voice to carry over.

"...Tam, make sure the quarterly reports are on my desk by at least 4 today and make sure to push back the sales meeting by 30 minutes to an hour, the board wants to talk — Oh Mr. Bardakcı! Thank you for stay—..."

Bernard's heart jackrabbits in his chest. He knows that voice but- it can't be. It's not possible; he chose Wayne Enterprises for a reason. He's not supposed to be here. He's supposed to be at his father's company. Unless... there was a merger? No, that seems like the kind of thing the news wouldn't've shut up about. He would've known.

When was the last time you had time to sit down and read the news, Bear? Darls says inside his head

She's right. With filing for custody of Mori and graduating from college and the job search, he hasn't had time for much else. It's entirely possible that he could've missed one of the biggest mergers of the decade.

Fuck, Fuck.

He wasn't supposed to be here. Bernard was supposed to be moving on. He was supposed to be building a life for himself away from the shadows of his childhood. He was supposed to be forgetting that Tim Drake ever existed.

He has to make sure though. Turning his body around, he prays that it's not the man he thinks it is. But sure enough, there stands Tim Drake, resplendent in a navy blue suit and a golden tie.

Golden ties for golden boys, he thinks absentmindedly.

The suit fits him perfectly, stretching across his shoulders and wrapping around his waist. Even the tie looks knotted perfectly. How long did it take him to learn, Bernard wonders. He could never get it right back in high school. Does his assistant Tam do it- no, no! This is why he didn't apply to Drake Industries. Bernard can't do anything around Tim and Tim is never going to care enough about him to stay.

Tim's head seems to be turning in his direction and Bernard whips his head back to make sure Tim doesn’t even catch a glimpse of him. His hand twitches violently enough that the coffee cup falls out of his hand and spills all over the floor. The cup rattles deafeningly on the floor. Bernard can't fucking breathe.

"-ernard? Bernard!" his team leader's voice cuts through the haze in his head. Young-joon looks concerned, "Are you okay?"

He blinks slowly, "...What?"

"I said, 'Are you okay?’ You look like you've seen a ghost?"

No, Bernard thinks, seeing Darls would be preferable to whatever level of hell I've found myself in.

"I'm—, I'm fine." he says rather unconvincingly. His eyes dart back to the spill, "What am I saying? There's a large puddle of coffee on the floor. I—, I should get some paper towels for that."

"Do you have any paper towels, Wonder-Duo?" he asks, trying desperately to ignore Tamara and Abhishek's concerned looks.

"I already called the custodial staff," Tamara says slowly, like she’s trying not to spook him, "but if it makes you feel any better," she pulls out a huge stack of paper towels, "go crazy, I guess."

Bernard takes a handful of paper towels and gets to work. The cleaning is meditative and with each swipe of the paper towel, the puddle gets smaller. Bernard pretends the puddle is his feelings for Tim. Swipe, forget about the 4pm milkshakes and his laughter when Darls snorted milk out of her nose. Swipe, don't think about the way he used to smell. Swipe, he left and never looked back; you don't look back either.

The tap, tap, tap of loafer on marble is getting closer to them for some reason. Why is it getting closer? Does it not have staff meetings, market research, and people to leave behind?

"What is going on here?" Tim asks.

"Nothing much, sir." Abhishek responds, "Newbie just spilled some coffee."

Abhishek, no!

"Oh is that all? And he took the initiative to start cleaning instead of waiting for the custodial staff. You made a good choice, Young-joon."

"Thank you, sir!" Young-joon says, "I was taking him on the tour when you came in. Most newbies love the show so I thought we'd stop here for a little bit."

Tim laughs. Bernard hates that his heart still skips a beat at the sound.

A pair of brown loafers and a wool-covered knee slowly appear in his vision. Why is Tim crouching in front of him? Why won't this man leave him alone?

"This looks like quite a lot of work, let me help."

You can help by leaving me the hell alone, he thinks uncharitably.

"I hope you found the facilities to your liking," Tim continues, like he hadn't heard Bernard's thoughts, "My name is Tim Drake-Wayne, CEO."

I know, he wants to say. I know you're Tim Drake. I know you like to skateboard and that you stared at Tony Hawk's photo for an hour every day in high school ‘cause didn't want to be one of those people who didn't recognize him. I know you struggled with your dad not really being there. I know you loved Mrs. Winters as much as you loved your mom. I know that you like history more than any other subject even though your best was always math.

Bernard says nothing instead.

Tim laughs awkwardly and Bernard knows he isn't helping the conversation along but whatever, he's allowed to be petty, right?

"I assure you, whatever you heard in the tabloids and the news, isn't true. I promise I won't bite…," Tim’s voice trails off as Bernard lifts his head.

"...Bernard?" Tim whispers, he looks like he's seen a ghost.

Bernard tries for a smile, he's pretty sure it comes out looking like a grimace.

"Sir," he says nodding curtly, hands still moving to sweep up the coffee puddle.

Tim's hand reaches out to touch his face, as if to make sure Bernard is really there. Bernard recoils as Tim's hand grazes his cheek. Tim's hand hangs in the air uselessly.

"Bernard?" Tim says again, as if to make sure his eyes aren't playing tricks on him.

"That's my name, Sir," he says through clenched teeth, "don't wear it out."

He can feel Young-joon and the Wonder-Duo's confused stare but he says nothing. What would he even say, really?

Hey, this is my old friend Tim Drake? Hey, I used to know him like the back of my hand? Hey, our best friend died and it feels like I'm the only one still grieving? Hey, in my junior year, five different gangs shot up my school and my best friend died in my arms and he left and I had to pick up the pieces by myself? Hey, I'm the idiot that's still in love with Tim Drake?

The clack of Tam's heels comes as a welcome distraction.

"Tim!" she says, grabbing his arm and pulling him away, "What the hell do you think you're doing? We have to go talk to the board. Build rapport with your employees later."

Tim stumbles to his feet, "Yes, but—, I—, This is—"

He sounds like he's glitching. Bastard. Is it really such a surprise to see Bernard in a well paying job? Even Tam is starting to look a little concerned now.

"Explain later," she commands, dragging Tim behind her. Bernard keeps his head down and continues wiping up the coffee puddle. Sneaking a glance upward shows him that Tim keeps turning back around to stare at him.

For a moment their eyes meet, brown against blue. 'Bernard?' he sees Tim mouth. Bastard, saying his name so many times. Doesn't he know what that does to Bernard? Why does Tim insist on breaking his heart again and again and again? Was once not enough?

He's tired of putting these walls up and just for a second, he lets them come down. Let Tim see the entirety of his brokenness. Tim already has his heart, he can have this too.

'Tim' he mouths back, smiling sadly. Tim looks stunned and the rage that had been simmering in his gut begins to boil over.

Do you see what I've become? Do you see how thoroughly Grieves ruined me? Is this not your doing too? Why did you leave? Have you ever visited Darla? Why was it so easy for you to not look back? Was I not your friend? Or was it just a time pass? Why wasn't I enough for you to stay?

He watches until the elevator doors close, separating him from Tim once again. His body sags like a marionette cut from its strings and his fingers clench uselessly around the coffee soaked paper towels. A hand lands on his shoulder and he flinches.

"Hey, hey," Young-joon soothes from where he's crouched right next to him. When did Young-joon crouch down? How much time has he missed? "It's just me, Bernard. Are you okay? What was that? Does our CEO know you?"

He exhales shakily. He needs to get out of here. He needs to sob hard enough he throws up. He needs the steady press of a knife on his back. He needs things he's not allowed to have anymore.

Bernard shoots up so fast the world spins around him. holding onto the desk for support, he tries to smile at his team leader. It stretches across his face misshapenly.

"I'm—, I'm sorry," he says stumbling over his words in a rush to get them out, "I have to—"

He has to what? Pretend to not see Darls out of the corner of his eye? Pretend like his hands don't have blood on them? Pretend like he isn't seeing bullet wounds every time he closes his eyes?

"—go to the bathroom," he finishes lamely. Gathering up all of the paper towels, he walks away dazedly, ignoring Young-joon's calls behind him. He shoves the towels in the nearest trashcan, letting his feet lead him to the nearest bathroom.

The bathroom is thankfully empty when he enters and he locks the door behind him. Sliding down the door, he exhales shakily. There's not enough air in this room; he can't breathe. The fluorescent lights hum above their coverings. The one on the left flickers. Who's bright idea was it to install school lights in a business office's bathroom?

The world outside the bathroom rushes on too loudly. Somebody is talking about their vacation. Someone is bemoaning their presentation today. His chest is getting tighter. His hands come up to tug on his hair. Why can't he breathe?

The exhales are coming quicker and quicker. Something comes tapping down the hallway. It's the gunmen, it has to be. A quick glance down tells him all he needs to know: he's covered in blood.

It's Lila's, he thinks dazedly, I had to carry her into the office. Or no, it's Olu's. I held him when he died. He said, he said, what did he say?

Why can't he remember? He hits his head with the heel of his palm.

Think he tells himself, we have to tell Olu's parents what he said. He said—, he said—.

His body sags.

Oh now he remembers. He said, "I don't wanna die Bernard."

A whimper tears itself out of his throat and he slaps a palm over his mouth. There's blood smeared across his face now, he must look like he walked out of a slasher film. He has to be quiet. if he's too loud, the gunmen will find them and then they'll all be dead.

Cry quietly, he tells himself, Darls doesn't need—

Darla! How could he forget about Darla with a hole in her gut? He needs to get to her. Lurching forward, he scrabbles across Mrs. Castillo's linoleum floor. He's smearing Olu's blood everywhere. Why won't Nikhil stop fucking crying so loudly? Goddamn freshmen and their hysterics. Where is Tim? Is he safe? He can't lose both friends today, please Lord, please.

BANG!

A violent flinch tears through his body. He sobs audibly this time, gagging on his spit. It's the gunmen, it has to be. He hasn't even held Darls' hand or counted Tim's moles for the last time. Where are the Darls? She shouldn't be alone. She doesn't like violence like this.

"Why didn't you save me, Bear?" a voice asks from behind him.

He freezes. Slowly he turns around and nearly yells in shock. Falling back on his butt, he stares up at his friend.

(He has to be quiet, he has to be quiet, he has to be quiet-)

Darls is standing behind him still in her crop top and cargo pants. Her once smooth midsection, bloodied and warped. The bullet wound still drips blood.

Plink, plink, plink.

Bernard hates the scent of iron.

"Why didn't you save me, Bear?" she asks, her voice echoing, "I thought we were friends."

There’s blood dripping down the side of her mouth. Now he remembers, the blood on him isn’t Olu’s or Lila’s — although there is that too — it’s almost overwhelmingly Darla’s. He’s covered in it. Elbows deep in it. It streaks up his arms like a macabre tattoo. He wore a white shirt to school today. The stains will never come out. He is Carrie at the end of prom, mortified and humiliated.

He crawls backwards until his back hits the wall, the impact knocking him out of the worst of that night. He's back in the bathroom. The lights hum loudly overhead. Darla hasn’t left yet.

She tilts her head, “Why didn’t you help me, Bear? I thought we were friends.”

“We are,” he rasps out, “we are friends.”

“Are we?” her eyes have no pupils. His Darls had eyes that shone in the sunlight. His Darls is dead. “Then why am I still bleeding? Why am I still hurting? Why is there a bullet in my stomach, Bear?!”

She’s shouting by the end and he flinches. His hands can’t seem to stop tugging at his hair. The blood must’ve smeared all over it. Talk about taking strawberry blond literally.

“I swear I did everything I could Darls,” he sobs out quietly, voice cracking, “I followed all of Mrs. Castillo’s instructions as best I could. I put pressure and tied the dressing as tight as I could.”

“You thought that was enough?” she snarls, hands coming down to grip the wound. It twists grotesquely; he gags, “You think any of that matters when I’m dead and you’re still alive?”

“Please, please. You know I wouldn’t leave you to die, Darls. Please, please, please believe me.”

“Liar, liar!” she screams, blood dripping out of her mouth onto her pink LOVE shirt. It darkens as each drop hits it. Soon it’ll be completely drenched and she’ll be drowning in it. Where did his smiling friend go? “I’m dead, Bear! I’m dead, dead, dead and it’s all your fault! Why didn’t you save me?! Why didn’t you save me?!”

He keens, body curling in on itself. One hand goes down to press on his throat; he’s making too much noise. Nikhil’s just a freshman. He shouldn’t have to die just because Bernard couldn’t shut up for once in his life.

“Please,” he whispers raggedly, “I tried, I tried. I swear I tried, Darls.”

“It hurts, Bear,” she sobs. Darla’s too young to be sounding so wrecked, “It hurts so much. Please help me.”

All of sudden, it’s too much. The taste of iron sits heavy on his tongue and Darla won’t stop sobbing. His fingers fumble for his phone and he presses one. It rings once, twice and finally on the third ring does a voice answer.

“Bear?” the other side says groggily.

“Ty please, I can't do this anymore,“ he sobs.

Tyrone suddenly sounds a lot more alert, “Bear what’s going on?”

“Darla won’t stop crying and she keeps on screaming that it’s my fault she died.” he wails, “I know I should’ve done more but please, can you tell her I tried? That I stayed with her until the end? She won’t listen to me, Ty. She won’t listen to me.”

There’s a muffled yell of ‘Babe!” on the other end. “Yeah,” Ty breathes out, “I’ll tell her.”

“You put me on speaker, okay?” Ty instructs, “And you gotta tell me if she’s nodding or if she’s gone or if she said anything, alright? I can’t see her.”

“Okay,” he whispers, pulling the phone away from his ear to press the speaker button.

“You tell me when to start, Bear,” he says, voice filling the bathroom. Darla looks up from where she’s sobbing.

“You can start now Ty,” he rasps out, holding the phone out.

“Hey Darla,” Ty says, “Bear told me you said a lotta mean things about him. Stuff like, ‘he’s the reason you died’ and that ‘he never cared’. Darla, you gotta believe me when I say Bear never stopped caring. He held your hand the whole way through. Told you stories about all the things you two were gonna do once you got out of that nurse’s office. He tried, Darla, honest. I’ve never seen him as focused as when you stopped breathing and Mrs. Castillo had him give you CPR. He couldn’t stop sobbing the whole time.”

“But I’m still dead,” she says.

“But I’m still dead,” he repeats.

Ty inhales sharply, “Yeah,” he says thickly, “you are. And I’ll never stop being sorry about that. But you can’t take that out on Bear. He’s just trying to live his life.”

Darls’ face twists up like a childs, “But it hurts,” she cries.

“But—, but it hurts,” he repeats, voice hitching.

Ty curses, “Oh, fuck. I can’t do this. Babe, can you—?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Hey, Darla. It’s me, Jimmy from the football team. I don’t know if you remember me but I remember you. After high school, me and Tyrone ended up getting married. Somewhere between shitty weed brownies and bad college parties, we fell in love. Isn’t that nice?”

Darls nods; he tells them as such.

“We visited you after the ceremony. I hope you felt that wherever you are these days. But the point I’m trying to make is that from all I’ve told you just now, you can probably figure out that Ty and I didn’t go pro like we planned. The shooting fucked up Ty’s knee and and my arm. After the hospital stays, playing football for a whole bunch of people just didn’t sound appealing anymore. We’re high school teachers now. Ty teaches math and I teach gym. When it rains or gets cold, my arm and Ty’s knee hurts like hell. But Darla, it doesn't hurt forever. It gets better, I promise.”

“Darla,” Jimmy says, voice unusually serious, “you’re right, you are dead and it does hurt. I’m sorry, I’ll never stop being sorry. I don’t know if it’ll ever go away for you; I’m not too much of an expert on the supernatural. Ty’s the smart one, after all. But I love you, Ty loves you, Bear loves you. I hope that when it hurts the most you can use that as a balm.”

“Auntie Bea loves you too!” Ty’s mom hollers from the background, “Aunt Betty, too!”

Ty laughs wetly and Jimmy snorts, “Does that sound okay?” they ask.

Darls smiles, her teeth stained red from all the blood that built up in her mouth. Bernard misses her with an ache he feels in his bones. Darls nods.

“She nodded,” he says quietly. He blinks once and she’s gone. Where did she go? Doesn’t she know that the gunmen are still at large? She needs to be somewhere safe. He can’t lose a friend today.

“Bear, Bear, you gotta breathe. Take a deep breath for me, c’mon,” Jimmy says.

“She’s gone, Jim. She’s gone again. Why does she keep leaving?” he says, crying. His body can’t stop trembling. How long has he been here? How much time has he missed?

“I miss the cult,” he whispers, “I never had things like this happen when I was with them.”

“Yeah,” Ty snaps, “‘Cause you were high off of like 50 different pain meds ‘cause you let them whip you.”

“Ty, not helping.”

“Move over, let me talk to him."

"Hey, sweetheart," Auntie Bea's voice crackles through his tiny speaker, "I know you're tired and I know you're hurting. I know you miss the cult but you gotta breathe for me, okay? You're gonna pass out otherwise."

"I can't, I can't," he gasps out.

"Sure you can, you just gotta tell me five things you can see. Can you list those five things for me?"

Bernard desperately tries to get his breathing under control, "The sink is dirty."

"Good, good. Anything else?"

"The tiles need to be re-grouted."

Aunt Betty barks out a laugh. Bernard's lips twitch upward.

"Keep going."

"My pants, my white shirt, my ID badge," he rattles off.

They talk him through the rest of the grounding techniques and by the time he feels like he's in control again, he's exhausted. His eyes hurt and his throat is dry.

"Can you tell us why you spiraled so hard, Bear? This hasn't happened in a long time," Jimmy asks.

"I spoke to Tim again," he says simply. He pushes himself up onto his feet and walks over to the sink. Setting the phone down on the counter, he grips the sink with both hands and just breathes. The Bernard in the mirror looks like he just came out of a warzone, eyes haunted, hair messed up.

"Oh fuck," Ty says, "Where did you even meet him?"

"At my new job at Wayne Ent."

"Why would you apply there?" Jimmy asks, stressed.

"I didn't know! It's not like I've had a lotta time in the past few years to check the news!"

"Well, whatever, what’s done is done." Ty says, ever practical, "Are you going to quit?"

"No!” he says vehemently.

“No,” he repeats quieter, “Wayne has the best benefits and Mori needs that. I’ll just suck it up and try to avoid him.”

“Don’t be fucking stupid,” Aunt Betty says.

“Ma!”

“Oh be quiet Jimmy. I’ve never heard of a more stupider thing. He’s your CEO, Bear, and he knows you work there. He’s obviously going to want ‘to catch up’ or whatever. There is no avoiding him. Can you handle that?”

What can he say? Aunt Betty is right. He can’t handle talking to Tim. Even seeing Tim felt like touching a live wire. He can’t deal with another episode. Mori doesn’t need him to be fucked up, Mori needs him to be the stable adult he promised the courts he was.

“You can’t, sweetheart,” she says softly, “you can’t handle it.”

There’s some shuffling on the other end of the phone.

“Bear,” Ty says gently, “I love you, man. You’re my brother. Jimmy loves you, Mama loves you, Aunt Betty loves you. But you gotta start thinking about therapy.”

“I know, I know,” he sighs, “I shouldn’t’ve dragged you into this. I’m—”

Ty cuts him off with an exasperated huff, “It’s not about that Bear. I’ll keep talking to your hallucinations for as long as you need me too. Even when we’re seventy, I’ll do it for you. I don’t care about that. I care about you and I want you to be happy and healthy. I don’t want you to keep seeing Darla. I don’t want you to keep trying to scrub the blood off your hands.

“And I know you’ve been avoiding therapy ‘cause you don’t got the money and ‘cause talking about your problems is scary but it’s not just you anymore. You got Mori now. That custody claim is going through. You can’t just avoid things ‘cause they’re hard now. You work at Wayne now; that paycheck is more than enough to set a few dollars aside each month to save up for therapy. Hell, mental health probably comes with your medical benefits. Please, Bear. If you can’t get help for you, then do it for us, for Mori. Please stop making us watch you hurt.”

Bernard exhales shakily.

“I never wanna find you the way we did after the cult, Bear. I never wanna see you in the hospital bed like that again. Please don’t do that to us, please,” Ty whispers.

Unconsciously, his hand comes up to rub at the scar left behind from the sacrifice. It stretches along the length of his sternum, jagged and rough. On good days, he can pretend that it’s a scar from a heart surgery. He doesn’t have that many good days.

Bernard presses the heel of his palms into his eyes before using his hands to scrub at his face. He’s always so tired these days.

“Okay,” he says simply, “okay.”

“Okay?” Ty asks hopefully.

“Okay, you’re right. It’s not just me anymore. Mori deserves the best and I’m gonna give it to him. And I love Tim, I think I’ll always love Tim but he clearly doesn’t give a shit about me. So I gotta make my peace with it or I’ll go crazy.”

Ty whoops, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” he chants.

“Bear, it’s still the middle of the workday,” Jimmy says, although he too, sounds happy. Auntie Bea and Betty are muttering about a feast, he thinks. “Don’t you have to get back to work?”

“Yeah, that’s if I’m not fired already,” he mutters.

“Hey!” Jimmy admonishes, “Optimism only, no pessimism.”

“Alright, alright. I gotta get back to work now. Thanks guys.”

“Of course, we’ll let you go now. Ma wants me to tell you that we’re having dinner at your place today.”

“Aunt Betty,” he whines, “I haven’t cleaned and you and Auntie Bea are just looking for a reason to spoil Mori.”

“Absolutely,” they say, unashamed, “he’s our only grandson. We have to spoil him.”

“Fine,” he sighs but he’s smiling. Fuck, he loves these people. God knows he wouldn’t have survived the past six years without them.

“Bye Bear,” they say before he hangs up, “Good luck on your first day!”

He cuts the phone and slides it back into his pocket. Turning on the tap, he splashes some cold water onto his face. Using his wet hands, he tries to rearrange his mussed up hair into something acceptable for an office job.

Time to face the music Darls, he tells her smiling face in the mirror. She gives him a thumbs up in return.

The walk back to his office feels like a death sentence. He’s fucked this up, he knows it. Freaking out over a small interaction with his CEO and then running away only to come back two hours later? It’s over, done for. Bernard takes comfort in the fact that at least the severance package will be nice.

Stepping into the office, immediately draws the eyes of his team members. Every step towards his team leader’s office feels nerve-wracking. Just before he enters, Esperanza, the team’s second in command, stops him.

“Whatever happened,” she says, “just explain it to him. Young-joon’s a reasonable man, he’s not gonna yell at you.”

Some of the tension leaves him and he nods. Knocking on the door, he enters. His team leader looks up and smiles.

“Ah, Bernard! Why don’t you take a seat for me?”

He crosses his wrists behind his back, “I’d rather stand, sir.”

His team leader looks confused, “‘Sir’? Just call me Young-joon like I told you.”

“Anyway, after you left, I took the liberty of going through your file to see if there was anything I missed. I hope that wasn’t overstepping my boundaries.”

“No s-, Young-joon. You’re fine.”

Young-joon sighs and pushes the file he was reading before Bernard came in forward. It’s his file.

“I’m going to say some statements,” he says, “and I want you to confirm whether it’s true or not. If any of these questions make you uncomfortable, just tell me okay? I’ll drop it immediately.”

Bernard nods.

“You went to Louis E. Grieves Memorial High School.”

“Yes.”

“Based on the dates you put in your file, you were there for the shooting.”

“...Yes. Junior year.”

“You know our CEO.”

“Yes,” he breathes out.

“How?”

He used to fall asleep on my shoulder during lunch and I would listen to him breathe. He’s got moles all over his face. Darls once connected them with a sharpie. His step-mom was so hot, I thought I’d spontaneously combust every time she smiled. HIs dad didn’t really like me and flirting with his wife didn’t help my case. The Drake condo had a crocheted flower blanket on the sofa that his mom had made during her pregnancy. He liked to skateboard but couldn’t roller-blade to save his life. I have all this love and nowhere to put it.

“It’s a little private,” he says instead.

“I’m only asking because we work quite closely with him. We see him often and if that makes you uncomfortable, then I can have you transferred to another team.”

His shoulders sag, “We went to Grieves together for one year. Our mutual friend died. It’s a little hard to look at him.”

“Jesus Christ.” Young-joon says, “Okay well the offer is still on the table, Bernard. Do you want to be transferred?”

“No, I like your team. I’d like to stay,” he says, firmly.

“Are you sure?” Youn-joon asks, eyebrows raised.

“Yes.”

“Okay then,” and it’s like a switch had flipped. Gone is his serious team leader and in its place is the man he met this morning.

“If you plan on staying,” he says smiling, “then my primary recommendation is that you use the medical benefits the company gives you to find a therapist. If you need help, the infirmary here will walk you through it.”

Oh thank god it comes included with his medical, Ty will be overjoyed to hear that. But first, he has to ask Young-joon why he’s doing all this. Bernard knows his experience with authority figures is a little skewed towards the shitty side of the spectrum but even so, people usually aren’t so kind in his experience.

“Why are you doing this? Why didn’t you fire me? Why are you helping me?”

Young-joon chuckles, “Do you want to be fired?”

“No! But still, why are you helping me?”

Young-joon sighs and stands up. Walking around his desk, he stops right in front of Bernard. Young-joon puts a hand on his shoulder.

“This city takes a lot out of its people, believe me I know. And you were so young, when Gotham took her piece of you. It wasn’t fair of you to go through that. Just like it wasn’t fair to me and my wife when we got kidnapped as children. These kinds of things don’t go away. I still get worked up over zip-ties. My wife still has nightmares. All you can do is learn to live with it.

“You seem like a good kid with a good head on your shoulders. I’d hate to see all that potential go to waste ‘cause you kept getting trapped in your mind. I had a lot of help to get to where and who I am today. Consider this, me paying it forward. One day, I hope you can pay it forward too.”

His eyes feel suspiciously wet. “Thank you,” he chokes out, “thank you.”

Young-joon laughs, “There’s no need for the waterworks, Bernard. Now, pack up your things and go home. You’re in no state to analyze data today but I expect you here at 9AM sharp tomorrow, alright?”

Bernard mock salutes, “Yes, sir.”

“Goodbye, Bernard.”

Right before he exits, he turns around and calls out his team leader’s name.

“Young-joon,” Young-joon looks up confused, “you can call me Bear, by the way.”

A wide grin stretches across his team leader’s face, “Okay then. Goodbye Bear, see you tomorrow.”

Walking out of the office, it feels like a burden has been lifted off his shoulders. Esperanza takes one look at him and snorts.

“You just got Young-joon-ed, huh?”

His jaw drops, “He does that often enough you guys have a name for it?”

The other team members laugh, “Welcome to Data Analysis Team 1, kiddo. We look forward to working with you from now on.”

Smiling, he gathers his things and leaves after a few goodbyes. Once outside the building, the smile drops. It’s an hour-and-a-half bus ride from Wayne Tower to his house. The bus stop sits right in front of the tower too. Some new initiative by the mayor to promote the city moving towards green energy. Hey look, even rich people take the bus! What a fucking joke.

The tower warps the sunlight around it and he stares up at the top floor. Is Tim watching? Can Tim see him from up there? Does he care or was it just the shock of seeing someone he once knew this morning? Has Tim ever thought about him, about them? Or were they just moments in his life? Perpendicular lines, intersecting once and then never again.

I miss you, he thinks staring at the top floor, I miss you more than anything but I’ll walk into oncoming traffic before I ever reach for you again.

The bus pulls up next to him and he snags a seat in the back. Dropping his head onto the seat in front of him, he stares out the window. Darls smiles back at him in the window reflection, perpetually sixteen. He’s twenty-two now.

Fuckin’ hell Darls, he thinks wearily, we’re really in it now.

Darls places her hand against the glass, he leans his shoulder onto it. If he closes his eyes, he can almost feel her warmth.

We’ll make it through, she says.

The bus rumbles forward and he lets the cracked streets of Gotham lull him to sleep. He’ll make it through.

A/N: chami! i hope you like it!!! i've never gifted a fic before, i don't really know how this works. and to everyone who read it, i hope you liked it too! please leave your thoughts in the reblogs or replies!!! i miss the days when td:r was coming out and we were all collectively freaking out. anyway when i said loosely based, i really did mean loosely. props to you guys if you can figure out the direct references to the drama. but this is a one-shot. i'm not gonna be writing anything else for this 'verse? au? (god i'm always so worried im using em dashes wrong)

if you have questions or you're confused by something i wrote, feel free to ask questions or send an ask or message. oh, and i know some people like know the exact wordcount. so, it's exactly 6,785 words long. nice number right?

also, please note that if you want to make art or a podfic or hell, even fanfiction of this, feel free to do so! i hope that's not too presumptuous or anything. idk i see fanfic writers make this disclaimer all the time, so i thought i'd do it to.

thank you for reading!

#god i'm exhausted #writing the latter end of a fic always feels like finishing a marathon #no more fics for like the next 6 months (<- me when i lie)#anyway big fan of the bear hallucinates darla club!#currently there's only one member (me) but you can change that #also favorite trope ever is when you see a regular dude and you're like 'what a nice normal dude' and then you talk to him for like #5 minutes and you're like '/oh./ this dude has something wrong with him'#also the tyrone/jimmy pairing? do you see my vision?#also big fan of the the shooting was worse than what you see in rr club!#it's just there was a city-wide gang war and all the gangs came to grieves to kill darla and you're telling me only she died???#i think way more people died. i think too many people died actually. i think the school had to do remote learning for all of tyrone's sr yr #cause the renovations were too much.#also just to clarify #the is hallucination!darla and there is the darls he sees all the time. no they are not the same to him. yes he is mentally ill.#also yes!! superheroes do exist in this world!!! i just didn't mention them.#also if we're being a little self-critical for a moment #(don't look at this part) i feel like i could've ended this at a way earlier point in the story but i had such a strong vision of what the #fic was supposed to be like that i just wrote everything #anyway lets start tagging #bernard dowd #tim drake #timbern #timber #dc #red robin tyrone #red robin jimmy

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crosbymalkin871 · 4 years

Text

The Price of Love (1/?)

CHAPTER TITLE: All It Takes is One Huge Paycheck…

RATING: M PAIRINGS/CHARACTERS: E. Malkin/S. Crosby

CHAPTER WARNINGS/KINK: Alcohol, Foul Language, mentions of Prostitution, Mario Lemieux, vague allusions to Smut

AUTHOR’S NOTE: FINALLY! AFTER FOUR-FIVE MONTHS OF NO HOCKEY, THE LACK OF MOTIVATION, AND ME ACTUALLY NOT HAVING TO DEAL WITH A LOT OF STRESS, I’M FINALLY BACK!!!! Originally I wanted to post this the night of game 1, but shit happened and then I tried to post it before game 2, but y’all are getting it today! XD As a piece of compensation on my end, chapter 2 will be posted on Sunday evening. I promise, and if I don’t keep my word, bash me in the head with a hockey stick until I get a concussion.

Before you all begin reading, I just have to say thank you to everyone who has messaged me their excitement and their support throughout these difficult moments, it really means a lot. I also wish to extend my appreciation to 3 specific individuals: my friends @justinschultzy & @eafay70, and my dear Zhenya aka @cakemakethme (who will also be my Beta from chapter 2 or 3 onward). You three were the ones I continuously messaged updates on and your cheerleading was what ended up leading me to finishing this. So thank you very, very much! xxx

I have been wanting to write this fic for…gosh, maybe 2-3 years now and it’s finally being presented to all of you. I’m so excited for everyone to read it and to join me on this insane rollercoaster that is The Price of Love. With that all said and done I hope you all enjoy it, like and reblog, and I will (hopefully) post more sometime in the near future.

DISCLAIMER: I am not the owner of the Pittsburgh Penguins, or are associated with anyone in the NHL. I just have a very strong imagination.

A variety of noises ring out in Geno’s ears.

“Beer, over here!”

“Four sangrias for table three.”

“Vodka. Straight.”

“Whisky on the rocks.”

“Daiquiri. Make it a double.”

“Two champagne cocktails for table seven.”

Orders just keep coming and coming. He had been tossing and filling up a number of glasses and flutes for hours, sending them out left and right at the bar with almost no chance of having a small break in between. It was alright though, he grew used to it throughout his years of being one of the many favored bartenders at the Emperor Nightclub.

That, and he gets some real good money out of it, collecting all the large tips he gets whenever he cleans up the dirtied tables afterward.

With he and Tanger, his best friend and the other tender manning the bar, it feels like a marathon— albeit an easy one— to serve the feisty ladies and semi-agro men currently trying to take over the club.

The Emperor Nightclub is still up and running as the night starts to grow late. With a birthday bunch, a small group of ladies having a girl’s night, a married couple looking for a partner or two to join their bed (whether they were open or poly, Geno wasn’t sure), and college graduates dominating the patrons tonight along with the regulars— the nightclub roars as if it is New Year’s Eve in NYC instead of any other weekend in Pittsburgh.

No empty space could be seen on sight from where he was standing, with new patrons coming in the later part of the night, while the earlier patrons have made the decision to stay even after hours of partying and hollering.

Geno was given a small break as the crowd in front of the bar disperses, having been satisfied with the drinks they were given, taking whatever leftover bills he was given as a form of tip.

So far, it was a relatively good night for him.

Well…until a small, very familiar group came in, with the leader catching his eye like he usually does.

Being a bartender at a pretty famous nightclub in Pittsburgh, he sees a whole spectrum of people walking in and out of the nightclub’s doors: with some of them wanting to down tons and tons of alcohol that’ll make them black out until tomorrow afternoon, and others being on the prowl for someone to either take to their car, a nearby hotel, or even the nightclub’s bathroom.

One of them was about three or four, sometimes even more, prostitutes that are part of the latter category, but that doesn’t mean that they won’t take the time to chat with the bartenders, something that always brightened Geno’s night, especially when he was continuously swamped with drink orders…

…which is how Geno’s break ends: more people clamoring to the bar.

As of on cue, the moment that he continues to engage in dealing with patron’s drinks, the orders come rolling in even faster that he almost skipped a beat. From the corner of his eye, he could see the expression on Tanger’s face becoming more focused as his orders keep coming in with some extra flirting and touching from the patrons on his part.

He snorts at that. While Geno didn’t necessarily mind a customer or two coming up to flirt with him, he was never really interested in them, only responding back just to make their night a little bit better.

Out of all of his friends, it was Tanger that got the most attention from the patrons, with he following at a close second. It made sense because the French-Canadian looked like a supermodel. And himself? Well he wasn’t really sure if American people have a thing for foreigners like him, but he continuously gets complimented on his ability to wear a suit. So he considers that a plus.

His other friend, Dumo, tended to get third; primarily because he got a lot of attention from the college kids, either doing an insane number of shots or just randomly asking about his athletic abilities. Needless to say, it was very amusing to watch him wrack attention from the younger crowd. Though if anybody were to catch his eye, they should be aware of how damn good a cook he was.

The other two bartenders, Big Rig and Schultzy, also managed to garner themselves some attention from the patrons. Big Rig, for his height as he stood almost 7 feet tall (much taller than Geno), and Schultzy, for his happy-go-lucky personality. It was always something that made event the downiest of drinkers smile a little.

Even if he feels just a tad overwhelmed by the all of the drinks he has to quickly make, getting a glimpse of dark, curly black hair and a thick, white fur coat was enough to quell his nerves.

“You all need some additional help?”

A voice comes from Geno’s left side and it makes him jump a little (but not enough to make him mess up an order, which he has done before and has given the person who scared him a very stern talking to). He looks over to see who it was and finds Dumo standing there with his usual laid-back smile. Geno may or may not have breathed out a small sigh of relief at his arrival.

“Possibly, considering that G has been trying to catch a glimpse of Sid rather than seeing how much booze he’s pouring in.” Tanger smirks, placing at Geno teasingly.

Geno rolled his eyes and answered with a scoff. “Yeah. Like you not staring at Flower too, Tanger.” He feels a little vindication when seeing the French-Canadian man scowl in return. “But help always needed, Dumo. Things getting a bit out of hand and no one planning on going home soon.” Even though he knows he’ll get teased about it even more, his eyes couldn’t help wander off around the club, looking at all the excitement that is still going strong.

And again, seeing black curls and a white fur coat— Sid was his name— releases some of the tension in his shoulders.

“Alright then.” Dumo clapped his hands before he started to roll his sleeves of his button-up. “No one is really wanting drinks on my end of the bar, might as well waste time by giving you guys a hand.”

Neither Tanger or Geno responded to him as he already accepted his first round of orders from the loud frat boys and flighty sorority girls welcoming him, leaving the other two to tend the ones lining up at their respective corners.

Within the next minute or so, all three of them found themselves falling into a rhythm as they worked side-by-side, the drinks continuing to flow out and tips continuing to flow in. And with more patrons visiting the bar, come more even more orders and even more tips.

The extra pair of hands certainly help a lot in making the work feel a whole lot easier.

Dumo serves every patron that tries to start a conversation with him, listen to their problems in one ear while paying attention to orders in the other. He also subtly brushes off any flirty advances, but he does throw a smile here and a wink there to please all who are openly staring at him. He even does a little dance to the beat of the music as a little extra entertainment.

“Should’ve been a stripper, Dumo.” Tanger tells him as he stuffs some more bills into his pockets. “Missed the chance to be Magic Mike in Hollywood, but there’s still a chance here.”

Geno snorts as he slides a mint julep down the bar.

“Ha ha. Very funny, Tanger,” Dumo states unamused. “Can say the same about you too.”

Tanger just flips him off while Geno snorts again.

Eventually, the orders died down and the patrons scattered about. Dumo returned to the other bar on the opposite side of the room with Schultzy and Big Rig, while Tanger cleaned up any spilled alcohol left on the bar top.

Geno, meanwhile, began pouring more cocktails, glasses of wine, and laying more beer bottles onto a tray; but these were for any of the people hugging their half-full drinks, or for the tables that were littered with empty glasses and lime wedges.

No. This tray of drinks are for a certain group that he had noticed earlier.

Carefully, yet a little giddily, he manages to carry the tray single-handedly, and without spilling a single drop of liquor, all the way to a very specific table within the Emperor Nightclub.

As he walks closer and closer, the wild pacing of his heartbeat grows more and more. When he finally reaches the table, standing behind the object of his secret affections, he quietly gulps and places a gentle hand on his fur-covered shoulder.

The man stops whatever he was doing and turns around to look at him. And Geno swears he could feel his breath escaping his lungs and his rapidly-beating heart stopping.

Aside from their beautiful curly hair, the man also had the prettiest brown eyes and the biggest, most kissable lips imaginable (not that the bartender would ever admit that to him). He also had on an outfit that was not afraid to show off his…well, assets; outside of the white fur coat, he wore a white crop top with a red maple leaf on it, black leather shorts that magically fits his ass, and past those long, thick legs were a pair of black stripped high-heels that decorated his feet.

Sid smiles kindly at him, his teeth showing behind those glossed lips. “Hi, Geno.” he calls in his deep yet sweet-sounding voice. It didn’t sound flirtatious or seductive, which is normally how he talked to his clients, with the bartender, he always sounded genuine and pleasantly happy to see him serving drinks to him and his friends.

Geno nervously smiled back. “H-Hey, Sid,” he replies, silently curing himself for stammering in front of a prostitute who he may or may not have a big crush on. “Flower, Segway, Mitch,” he also greeted, who were all looking at him before he grabbed Sid’s attention. He began setting down the cocktails, wine, and beer. “Here are usual orders.”

The three other men accepted their drinks: a margarita, a beer, and a glass of white wine, respectively.

Still smiling, Sid happily accepted his cosmopolitan, plucking a strawberry off the skewer that was resting atop the martini glass. “Thanks, G,” he says before popping the mini strawberry into his mouth. “I know everyone has their favorite bartenders, but I still say you make the best cocktails.”

Hearing that from Sid (and watching him eat a simple piece of fruit) was enough to bring a blush and a dumbstruck smile to Geno’s face. “H-Heh…Thanks, Sid.”

Sid nods, eyes shining with a glint of something as he takes a sip of his cocktail.

It was a small moment or two of awkward (on the bartender’s part at least) silence before he coughed. “I, uhm, I’m best get back to work, so…bye.” With that, he quickly flees back to the bar.

(As he did so, he heard the soft giggles coming from Sid, but he failed to see him lightly admonish his friends as they smirked at the obvious crush the bartender had.)

After that little incident, Geno spent the rest of the night catering to any other patron that walked up and asked for— or sloppily demanded— drinks. Whenever he had a spare moment or two, he would glance up at table eight, watching the small group of friends chatting, laughing, and attempting to flirt with some of the other patrons that would stop by their table.

Part of Geno’s heart crumbled whenever he saw Sid respond to some of the men��s flirtatious mannerisms, whether it be throwing out seductive words, or a teasing touch, or even a tickle of breath or the faint press of lips.

He knows Sid isn’t tied down to someone. Why would he, the man was a prostitute after all. But that didn’t mean watching him act like that with others didn’t hurt.

From the moment he first met Sid, back when they were teenagers to young adults and Geno had just started working at the Emperor Nightclub, he always harbored secretly feelings for the young Canadian. He remembered the first time he ever plucked up the courage to speak to him and slide him a cocktail: one of his first attempts at a watermelon cooler, too easy of a drink to mess up on.

It was a bit strong on the booze and not fruity enough, but Sid didn’t tell him that. He just smiled and thanked him in a voice that oozed sensuality and charm, throwing in a wink for good measure. When he saw how awkwardly the bartender responded to it— by stammering and not completely picking up the subtle cue— he dropped the act, apologizing for making him feel awkward. To which Geno has to apologize as well, because he didn’t meant to make the moment awkward, he just wasn’t good at responding to someone who was cute like him.

That made Sid pause and blush, looking away from the bartender for a split second before gazing back up at him, a gentle smile on his face. This caused Geno to smile back, the both of them feeling a bit more relaxed than before. When the awkwardness of it all faded away, the two of them began to chat during the bartender’s break, or whenever he would get a breather from serving. In those small conversations, he realized that the flirty prostitute was actually…very dorky.

A dorky man who had a passion for history, craved mozzarella sticks and cheesecake, and had a strong affinity for sports just like he once did. And he had the goofiest laugh Geno had ever heard and thought it adorable. Seeing this, Sid’s true colors was what made him slowly start to fall in love.

But deep down, he knew that Sid would never feel the same about him. To him, it was fairly certain that he would get rejected upon confessing his feelings. So, in every encounter the two had after that, Geno would simply swallow his feelings and allowed Sid to flirt and be affectionate with other men that weren’t him.

They were just friends, nothing more.

(Although he can’t help but secretly wish for that to change one day).

Geno sighed sadly and began to untie his apron, ready to go into the staff room and change back into his regular clothes when Tanger tapped him on the shoulder. He looked over at him, ready to tie his apron back on, when he sees him pointing to the stairs near the back of the nightclub.

Coming down the stairs was owner Mario Lemieux.

He turned back to Tanger, brow raised. “So? He does that a lot.”

“Yeah he makes his rounds like he usually does, but does he ever personally come to us for anything? Usually it’s Jen that does it for him.” Tanger points out as they see Mario making his way over to the bar areas.

Geno hummed. He had a fair point, usually it was Jen, Mario’s personal assistant, that went and searched for them whenever he needed to have a conversation with them. In any other instance, the bartender would not hesitate to flee whenever he could, but she would usually find him in the end.

But Mario himself coming out to talk to one— or maybe all of them— was highly unusual.

It was even more unusual when he realizes that Mario coming towards him. He didn’t know whether he should run, or accept whatever was going to be handed to him.

Still tying his apron back on just in case, he meets Mario halfway: near the dance floor but not that far from the tables.

“Ah, Geno,” he says as the bartender comes up to him. “I was just coming to talk to you.”

“Need me to stay extra hours?” he asked, seconds away from letting out a tired sigh. He doesn’t like the idea of staying later than 1 or 2 AM on most days, but if the boss says so, he’ll make an exception.

“No, actually,” Mario shakes head making Geno confused. “I wanted to give you something.” He hands the bartender an envelope.

Taking it, Geno still looked confused as to what it was until he opened it, then his eyes widened in shock.

“Boss, are you— Are you serious?!” he exclaimed as he looked between the envelope in his hand, then back at Mario.

“It’s just little bonus, if you will, for being one of my best workers.”

“This more than bonus and you know it!”

Mario placated him by resting a hand on his shoulder. “As I said, you deserve it,” he reassured. “I know it’s more than what you normally make, and more than the other bonuses I give, but there’s nothing wrong with giving a little bit more to hard workers like you.”

Geno gazed back down at the envelope. Inside was a bonus check of over $10,000.

“But—”

“No buts.” Mario tells him seriously. “I mean it. You’ve been very dedicated to your work from the beginning, even if you were completely new to it. But you quickly improved over time and became a favorite amongst The Emperor’s patrons. It’s not hard to see why, Geno. So, go on, take the extra bonus. Do whatever you want with it, a gift from me to you.”

With that, he gave the bartender a pat on the back before heading back upstairs to his office.

The whole time, Geno’s eyes never left the check.

It was a large amount of money. In fact, it was double than what he normally makes for a bonus: $5000 at most, but if his boss said that he deserved it…well, who was he to deny himself a paycheck like this.

Finally, his eyes left the large sum of money, trailing back to the beautiful prostitute that was still sitting at table eight.

Maybe…maybe his chance had finally come. He may not be able to have a proper relationship with Sid, but he could at least spend one magical night with him, for however long he could make it.

He didn’t know what Sid charged for his services, but he hoped ten thousand dollars was enough to satisfy him (he was sure that it was, he was just being really nervous about confronting him).

Gulping, the bartender slowly— and anxiously— makes his way back to table eight. Along the way, he tries to remember all of the fancy restaurants that are in Pittsburgh, and there are quiet a number of them within the city and the surrounding area.

There was the Altius that has an amazing view of the city… the Monterey Bay Fish Grotto is one of the most famous restaurants… LeMont has been around for decades and is still highly regarded… most of the locals would know about the Grand Concourse… since he liked boats, one of the Gateway Clipper’s Dining Cruises would be nice…

Maybe the Hyeholde since it almost be like dining at a castle… the Carlton has a lot of national recognition… Bravo! Italian Kitchen has a good menu and they do have creme brûlée...

Or…he may just happen to like the Cheesecake Factory instead.

Before he could even make a final decision on what he was going to say, he was standing right in front of Sid (or behind, since his back was turned to him). Luckily for him, his other friends were either out on the dance floor or chatting up the other bartenders; maybe they were in the back lounges, but Geno doesn’t really care, he needed to focus on his main objective right now: gaining Sid’s attention, even if it was for one night.

Reaching a hand out, he hesitates for a split second before he decides to gently tap Sid on the shoulders.

The prostitute turned around to see who was standing behind him again, smiling when he realized who it was. “Hey, G. What’s up?” he asks curiously while he licks something sticky off his fingers.

Geno stared for a hot minute before quickly snapping out of it. “U-Uhm—!” He blushed and scratched the back of his head. “I-I want you to know that Mario gave me big bonus just now…”

Sid smiled wider at that. “That’s great, G! How much of a bonus was it? The usual 5k?”

He shook his head, looking away shyly. “No…gave me double that.”

Brown eyes widened as he exclaimed, “Wait. He gave you $10,000?!”

Geno nodded, showing him the envelop with the check in it. “Yeah, and uhm…was wondering if…” He blushed darker, still keeping his eyes away from Sid.

The prostitute was looking at him with concern now. “If uhm…You want to spend a night with me…?”

Sid stayed silent for the longest time, staring blankly at the bartender as he processed what he just asked him. “Geno, are you— Are you asking me to…service you?”

“Yes. I mean, no! Argh!” The bartender shook his head, feeling more embarrassed and stupid now. “What I’m mean is…I take you to fancy restaurant, maybe do shopping, and…” The blush on his face grew darker. “I-If you wanted, we can go to hotel and… you serve me.”

A blush now came to the prostitute’s face. “O-Oh…”

Geno makes a flustered noise, still not looking Sid.

“I don’t— I-I don’t charge that much for a night's service, Geno,’ he tells the bartender with a shy voice. “Y-You can’t spend 10 grand on me in one night…”

“I-I’m know,” he nods. “But I’m try.”

Sid’s blush grew darker as he now looked away from the bartender. Neither one of them really knew what to say after that, the moment growing tenser and more awkward by the second.

Eventually, the prostitute was the one to speak first. “E-Even if you can’t spend all that money on me…it’d be nice to spend a night with you.”

Geno’s head snaps back to Sid, his own dark brown eyes widened at what he said. “R-Really?”

A small smile came to the prostitute’s face as he nodded. “Yeah,” he admits shyly, now looking back at the bartender. “I really do.”

He’s never admitted this to him, but he’s had a crush on Geno for a very long time now, ever since they met as teenagers in this very nightclub. He always thought the bartender would never want to be in a relationship with him because of what he does, but after hearing what he just said to him, he might actually have a chance to see if they would really work out.

“Uhm, great!” Geno exclaims with a grin.

Sid smiles a little more. “Did you have a particular restaurant in mind?”

The bartender pondered on the choices he thought about earlier before finally making a decision. “Altius?” he asks. “Is on Grandview Avenue and have good view of skyline.”

“Sounds great,” Sid nods in approval. “Maybe we could stop by the Cheesecake Factory afterwards. I haven’t had any in a long time and I’m overdue for a craving.”

“I figure you say that,” Geno chuckled. “Had that in back of mind in case you say no.”

An embarrassed giggle managed to escape the prostitute’s lips. “I guess I make my love of cheesecake very obvious, eh?”

“You do, but is okay,” Geno reassures. “I like that about you.”

Another giggle, this time, one that was more airy and a little bit giddy-sounding. “So, when did you want to do this? Tomorrow night?”

“We can do that,” he nods. “I take night off.”

“Are you Mario would allow that?” Sid raises a teasing brow at him. “I mean, he did just give you a big bonus. He may change his mind when he hears you taking a day off.”

Geno waved at him nonchalantly. “Eh. He not mind.” he tells him. “Besides, be nice to get away from club for one night. And I spending night with you, so is good reason.” He lightly smirked at him.

Sid’s blush couldn’t get any redder, but it manages to with the bartender’s words. Just then a waiter came by and served him another drink, this time, a vibrant sunrise cocktail.

He takes the drink with a nod and a slight smirk before the waiter walks away. He takes a sip before turning back to Geno, his smirk growing in seductiveness. “So,” he starts before licking his lips, a little cayenne salt sticking to them. “Will I be seeing you tomorrow night?”

The bartender gulped and managed to nod, trying to keep his dirty thoughts at bay. “Yeah…see you tomorrow night.”

#SidGeno #Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin #otp: we grew up together here #hockey rpf #my hockey fanfiction #mpreg tw #The Price of Love

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fanfic-inator795 · 7 years

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Old WoY fics that I’m still proud of (+ commentary)

So yeah, it’s been a while since I’ve written really anything for WoY. Admittedly once the series ended, the tag slowed down, and new things like the Lego Batman Movie came out, I sorta lost interest. Though, after rewatching a few episodes (thank you Disney XD marathon ^v^), I’ve got WoY back on the brain. Hopefully I’ll be able to write fics for this show again soon, once I’ve finished some of my other planned fic projects/stuff I have to write for possible jobs. But until then, I just wanna take some time to look back on old WoY fics that I’m still really proud of and enjoy rereading ^v^ And, if you haven’t read these fics, consider this a personal recommendation list.

First up: Post Finale fics. Fics that focus on elements or ideas either based on stuff from ‘The End of the Galaxy’, or just take place after the finale epi.

Can’t Run - I really do love Hater’s “I can’t run if I want to be number one!” quote. Without that line from the first S2 episode, Hater’s dramatic turn around in the finale may seem like plot convenience or just something that came out of nowhere. But, similar to Wander, I firmly believe that with enough determination, Hater is able to accomplish anything. He’s certainly got the power and even intellect for it, he just needs that big push of either determination or genuine confidence. So yeah, I wanted to write this just to sorta fill in the gap between TEoTG’s opening scene and Hater’s big dramatic speech. I also wanted to write some more Hater and Peeps interaction, since it’s still a fun dynamic even if it’s not my favorite in the show. Rereading it, I feel like I could have maybe written Hater a bit better towards the end - maybe have him hesitate more before revealing what he was feeling - but otherwise I still like how it turned out.

Better - Another Post-Finale Hater fic, following the idea that after saving the Galaxy, Hater tries to do good (even if he’s reluctant to have the ‘good guy’ title). I like the idea of him struggling with this new identity as well as new goals, and who better to relate to this than a former bad guy? It really is too bad we couldn’t have more Syl and Hater interactions. I feel like they could not only be enjoyable to watch, but also interesting just to see. But yeah, writing their dynamic is fun, and after they pretty much saved each other in the finale, I can’t imagine that they wouldn’t have at least one sit-down talk/positive interaction with each other.

Conventional Rerun - Aaaaand another Hater-focused fic, though more focused on his possible reformation than the finale itself. ...Can you guys tell which character I enjoy writing most? Lol. But yeah, I remember this idea hitting me pretty randomly one day while I was abroad. Basically I wanted to write a bunch of jokes around both conventions and Hater’s cartoon. Of course Hater just hates the thing, though I was able to imagine multiple reasons why, as well as figure how that hate could possible become a ‘love-hate’ relationship with his cartoon. Again, it sorta connects to Hater having fans and being considered a ‘good’ force in the Galaxy now, and basically not knowing how to take it. Hater may seem simple at times, but I really do feel like he’s got plenty of layers - both in how he thinks as well as how/what he feels. Also, a lot of show continuity and meta jokes in this one, also fun to write ^v^

Long Time No See - My reason for writing this? WHY DIDN’T WANDER AND JEFF INTERACT IN THE FINALE?! Lol, but yeah, the idea of exploring the feelings of a character like Jeff - someone who both had been ‘wanderized’ for a while and who had to deal with his new friend eventually leaving - was too interesting to pass up. Maybe not the most exciting fic, and I do kinda wish I could have done just a bit more with it, but still pretty fun to write ^v^

There’s also By Any Other Name which, while not really an episode based on the finale, still takes place after it, and explores an element I think any WoY fan’s interested in: Wander’s name. I was really hoping this fic wouldn’t turn out too long winded or exposition heavy or ‘deep’, which is why I made the set up for all the more thinky/exposition filled and emotional stuff so grounded (and relateable, considering I was also traveling while I planned out this fic). But I’m so proud of how it turned out in the end, having just the right amount of emotion and story, as well as some humor ^v^

Similarly, there’s Reset the Clock, though that one connects more to ‘The Waste of Time’ than the finale. Definitely not my favorite of the bunch even if it’s fairly well written, though I still like reading it occasionally simply because I like filling in the gaps between scenes/time in episodes like this one.

Alright, next up: Minor Character Focused Fics! Because darn it, there are too many characters to love from this series!

One Last Bite - This one I definitely have to put first, because the more I watched ‘The Fancy Party’, the more interested I was in Entozoa and Wander’s pasts. Once it was revealed that Wander was possibly immortal, the fact that Entozoa specifically wanted to take over his body just made even more sense. So, I wrote a fic focused on the two of them, both because I thought it’d be interesting to explore the relationship between two practically immortal characters, but because I couldn’t get the image of Possessed-by-Entozoa!Wander fighting the others and speaking like Malachite from SU out of my head. The latter half of this fic was so much fun to write ^v^ I also feel like I did a decent job writing Wander’s final conversation with Entozoa (and considering that I sometimes struggle with dialogue, any time I can do it well I consider a success).

Tiger in Kitten’s Clothing - I LOVE LITTLE BITS! ...Then again I pretty much love every minor character from this show but still, she’s one of my favorites ^v^ Her rivalry with Syl and the sort of irony that can come from it can also be interesting and fun to think about. I also really love the imagery I was able to do with this one. So yeah, maybe just a simple character piece with not a ton of story but eh, I still love it ^v^

Breakout and Blindly Looking Out - Two Ryder stories that, despite the first one being more Syl focused, still very much connect with each other. Maybe this is just me totally falling for Ryder’s charm, but I firmly believe that he isn’t a terrible person, despite doing some pretty terrible things. So, this was just my attempt at fleshing him out and giving some motive for his actions, as well as giving some backstory for his relationship with Syl. I like how both of them turned out, but I feel like Blindly Looking Out is the stronger one.

Freezing Warmth and Helmet and Sword - Another pair of fics, this time focusing on Hater, Prince Cashmere and Peepers. It’s always a fun challenge to write interactions for characters who have never really interacted before. Pretty sure this one was both inspired by RPs/conversations between me and Tessa as well as Hater and Cash’s brief interactions in ‘The Rager’. Adding in elements like Hater learning swordfighting and Peepers being sort of jealous just made it all the more enjoyable to write and reread. Again, I enjoy the latter story of this duo more, but I still really like how Freezing Warmth turned out ^v^

Crashing Waves - AKA the first fic in the Awesome Arc series. Like Ryder, I really do love Awesome despite his jerkiness. Though, if there was a downside to this character, it was that he never really got a ton of development or was super interesting (though still pretty fun to watch) until ‘The Rival’. So, this was my attempt to sorta fill in that possible character development, as well as just use the excuse to put a bunch of my Awesome headcanons in a story. Peepers and Hater also get a bit of the spotlight in these stories, which I don’t mind at all ^v^ If anything, it just makes the series feel more whole. I really do hope I can finish this series one day. Maybe it’s a bit too dramatic or angsty at times but eh, with something like PTSD and changing your whole identity, that’s sorta to be expected.

Peace - A quick look at Ripov, as well as a bit at Beeza and their possible relationship with each other. Maybe a bit rambley in places but, eh, I still like it ^v^ (and still ship it, lol)

Don’t Fence Me In - Another Jeff fic! Again, sorta focusing on being kind of left behind after being ‘wanderized’, though thankfully it turned out more bittersweet than angsty. To this day, I still consider it the best Jeff-focused fic I’ve ever written.

There’s also Admirable Interstella that focuses on The King of Sherblorg 7 and Stella Starbella that... I don’t hate persay but, I don’t love either. If anything, I’m more just proud that I was able to write something for such a strange idea and actually have it make sense and flow decently. Though, I do wish I could have managed to make it shorter.

But speaking of ships... Iiiiiiii have a lot of shipping fics, lol. Much more than I could list and still keep this post at a reasonable length. Most of them are for Wander x Hater but I have written plenty for Syl x Peeps, Hater x Syl, canon characters and OCs, etc. Surprisingly, even the old ones or the ones for pairings I don’t ship much anymore I’m still pretty proud of. So, I’m just gonna leave a link to my story list and anyone who’s interested can check it out: https://fanfic-inator795.tumblr.com/fanfics (scroll down to the Wander Over Yonder section)

Now, before I end this post, there’s still one fic I want to mention. My longest WoY project to date (and probably ever): Rockin’ Over Yonder

This fic... Ohhhhh boy this fic. Even without it having the personal baggage/behind the scenes stuff that I don’t really want to go into, I’d STILL probably have a love/hate relationship with this fic. For one, it was written before Season 2, so there are just soooooooo many elements that I could either rewrite or add in if I cared to. There’s also plenty of pretty cheesy or cliche moments in it that came from just me still being pretty new to writing fics as well as getting used to writing the WoY characters in general. So yeah, there’s a lot to not like...

But at the same time, there’s a lot I can’t help but love. Some scenes I really like, with some scenes that I can’t help but look at and think “Wow... I actually managed to write something like that?” There are some scenes and lines that I just absolutely loved writing, scenes that I can STILL perfectly picture in my head even after all these years. Maybe I missed out on including Dom and other S2 characters, but I still managed to fit in plenty of great S1 characters. And finally, what I love about this story the most is that I actually managed to do a good job writing and slowly developing the romantic relationships between the various characters/pairings.

So, despite the stuff I dislike about Rockin’ Over Yonder, the stuff I may be embarrassed about or the semi-related bad memories that may pop up when I think of this fic, I still can’t help but be proud of it, with part of me wanting to remember it. So if you’re interested and you’re willing to read through some of the more cheesy parts, feel free to check it out ^v^

Honestly, along with Phineas and Ferb and maybe Regular Show, Wander Over Yonder probably inspired me the most in terms of ideas and fanfics - especially towards the end of it’s run. I’m grateful to WoY for inspiring me to write and think and analyse so much (along with all the other things it did for me, including introducing me to my best friend). The show may be over and I may be writing for other fandoms, but I don’t think I’ll ever truly forget these fics or the show they were inspired by ^v^

#wander over yonder #wander #lord hater #fanfiction #my writing #long post

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