Chapter Text
Friday 15th October 11:00pm - 07:00am
“Fish burger thing with barbeque sauce, Big Mac sauce, ketchup and mayo. Oh, and add cheese to that.”
George blinked. He thought about all the other ways he could be spending his Friday evening.
“Sorry, could you repeat that please?”
“I said that fish burger one with barbeque sauce, the Big Mac sauce, then ketchup and mayo! Actually, can I have that as a meal, with Coke as well.”
George grimaced as he tapped out the order,
“All of the sauces?”
A heavy sigh rattled through the speaker.
“Yes, that’s what I said, didn’t I? Twice now!”
“Drive round to the payment window please.”
After taking the money, he pulled the window shut against the freezing night air, wincing as a police car wailed past, its sirens echoing through the speaker. Rolling his shoulders and leaning backwards, George glanced into the crew room, where he could just see Matty hunched over his food, cap abandoned on the table. They were both working night shifts and George quietly resented that a staffing crisis and lack of empathy from management meant it was his seventh overnight in a row.
The Friday-nearly-Saturday shift guaranteed a steady battle against the stream of clubbers returning from Manchester city centre in drabbles, ordering in slurred, rambling monologues and loudly demanding chips.
Walking through to the front of the store, George nodded to the kids at the counter, packing the current order. It never failed to make him feel old, every new starter seemed to get younger and shorter.At the age of 20, he was practically a pensioner compared to the amount of school kids that populated the lobby, and the staff room. They were fine really, but George found he had little in common with them, seeking out conversation with slightly older members of staff when Matty wasn’t around for him to talk to.
“Busy out here?” he asked, reaching across to grab a fleece and pull it on.
“Not as bad as it could be,” one of them replied, his name tag reading Ryan. “It was packed all of last weekend, even at 11!”
“Yeah man, like, everyone from school was here as well,” another adds.
George hummed, “That’s bank holidays for you. God I’m glad I’m not still in school!”
“Wait how old are you then?”
“20,” he smiled.
Eyes widened all around. “That’s like, well old.”
“He’s not like, a fossil in the ground!” someone chimed in. “Our Ty works here, he’s 22”
“Wow 22; ancient,” George laughed, before he was cut off by the screech of the headset and made his way back towards the window.
“Hi what can we get you?” he said, forcing a bright smile onto his face.
“Stop I’m not ready yet,”
He waited, looking at the seconds ticking by on the screen.
Eventually a voice crackled through the speaker, “Right - are you still there? I’m ready to order. Hello - are you there?”
George rolled his eyes, and said through a pained smile, “Yes of course, right here. What would you like to order?”
Tapping out the half a dozen customisations the man wanted, his long-winded monologue punctuated with rhetorical questions, he heard a shout from the break room. “Matty,” he thought, suppressing a chuckle. He put the order through, before the man rolled up to the window, and decided to pay in literal pennies. George wanted to cry in frustration. He counted out the individual coins, feeling the man’s stare remain on him. Finally, he reached the total amount, filling the till slot with the dull thunk of the pennies, and sent the man on his way with a slightly passive-aggressive smile.
George turned on his heel, heading past the stacked boxes of cups past the office towards the crew room. Matty’s head shot up, grinning as the door swung open.
“1-0 up!” he crowed, against the excited chatter of the radio. “There’s only like 20 minutes left as well.”
George smirked, “Newcastle are winning? Really?”
“Less of the sarcasm please,” Matty tutted, “I’m listening to a footballing masterclass here.”
Matty filled him in on how his break was going as George curled his fingers over the thin metal grid covering the window, staring wistfully through the smudged glass at the buses passing by. He just wanted to go home and curl up in the warmth of his bed with Matty and a cup of tea. Instead, for the next few hours he was confined to the solitary station of the drive-thru window, praying for a customer just to replace the continuous white noise emanating from the speaker. If he was lucky, he’d be sent to scrub the metal doors with Ajax, or work at the front of the store; at least the departing drunks could keep him company.
“Busy out there now?” Matty inquired as he swallowed the last of his burger.
“It’s dead,” George replied, dragging a chair to table, slumping down, and resting his head on Matty’s shoulder. Matty smiled softly, leaning down, “You alright?”
“Just tired,” George said. He gazed around the room, taking in the drab grey of the lockers, the peeling beige paint plastered on the walls. “And sick of being here all night - every night. It’s a waste of a day when we get out and then everybody else has started their morning, getting on with their life. Feels like I’m only ever going between our flat and this shithole.”
“Sounds like a crap version of Groundhog Day!” Matty laughed. He wrapped an arm around George, pulling him closer as he straightened up and declared, “The plan for tomorrow then - or actually for today I guess - is go home, have a quick bit of food and then spend the whole day in bed. We’ve both got the next day off, so that gives us a break. Maybe go over to Adam’s? Or whatever you fancy doing.”
Nodding, George shifted in the chair.
“You’re right; I just need a break. We both do at this point! The whole day in bed sounds good, catch up on some sleep.” He smirked, “Not just sleep mind you. We’ve barely had any time where it’s just been us alone at all this week.”
“Well, we’re alone now,” Matty said, eyes sparkling as George looked at him. “And like you said earlier, it’s dead out there. I’ve still got time left on my break, so…”
His hand moved to the collar of George’s shirt, pulling him into a soft kiss. The chair scraped across the floor as they moved closer, George curling his fingers at the base of Matty’s skull, eyes closed, oblivious to their surroundings. He felt Matty’s hand trailing up his back as he stood, then sat across George’s lap.
“They watch the cameras in the office you know.” He murmured, pulling back a fraction, eyes glued to Matty’s lips.
“What are they going to do, fire us?” Matty giggled as a wide grin appeared on his face. “And lose two of the seven people who can legally work nights? We’re valuable mate! We could risk a quick shag in the toilet and still keep our jobs!”
“Hold that thought,” George laughed, leaning in, and locking their mouths again. His hand was lingering on Matty’s thigh as he deepened the kiss, tugging him flush against his chest. He moved to straddle George properly, mouthing slowly up his neck and along his jawline. A small sound escaped his mouth, and George’s breath stuttered in harmony as he ran his nails along his scalp.
The door slammed open, Matty stumbling backwards hurriedly. George could feel his face heating up under the reproachful gaze of Aaron the shift manager.
“If you two could save second base to when you’re both off the clock that would be much appreciated. George there’s a queue in the drive-thru, I think you should get back out there.”
Clearing his throat, George looked up,
“Sorry Aaron, I’ll be out now.”
“Just be glad it’s me that saw that, not Sue. She’s on the warpath today. Make sure you’re back off break soon please Matty.”
With that he pulled a chair to the door, pointedly propping it open, then left.
George exhaled. “Well.”
“Didn’t get fired though, did we?” Matty said, his eyebrows raised in question, stepping closer and reaching up to smooth George’s shirt out. Pecking him on the cheek, he pushed him towards the door.
“I’ll see you in five,” George promised, turning back into the corridor. “Love you!” he called.
“Love you too,” Matty replied, a fond grin on his face as he sat back down and turned up the radio.
*
He watched as a neon green shape shuffled from bin to bin, car lights catching the reflective stripes. Hiding a smile behind the till screen, George raised his hand to wave at Matty, who was currently changing the outside bins. All he got in return was a scowl from under the drooping hood, and a two-fingered salute as the wind picked up, hurling a torn, soggy drinks bag smack into the side of his face. Matty swatted at the bag, spinning round as George bent at the waist in laughter, nearly howling. He looked on in amusement as Matty fought with the bag, eventually stuffing it in the rubbish bag in a fury, before making his way over to the window.
Sliding it open, George leaned out, asking,
“Having fun?”
“Having the time of my life here. Who doesn’t love changing bins, in the cold, and the dark- “
“Wearing a very fetching coat!” he interjected.
“Of course,” Matty replied, gesturing to the high-vis parka he was drowning in. “Hann says it makes me look like a glow-in-the-dark Jawa.”
Reaching out, George flipped the hood back, letting the streetlights flood his face, feeling his chest clench softly.
“Sap!” Matty teased.
“Hey!” George protested indignantly. “You’re the on standing at this window like a Maccies version of Romeo!” He watched in trepidation as Matty stepped back and smirked.
“But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?” he yelled, voice piercing the shadow and the silence of the car park. Gesturing grandly, he continued as George looked on in disbelief.
“It is the east, and Juliet is the sun- “
“Okay, well done, thank you very much! I get your point.
Laughing nervously, he glanced at the entrance to the drive as a car slowly made its way towards them, hoping their spontaneous performance hadn’t been observed. Matty danced backwards, arms flailing as he settled on the short wall directly in George’s eyesight.
“At least you’re not going to be ran over in that neon bin bag. Function and fashion!”
“Hey don’t knock it,” Matty replied. “It pure stinks, but it’s quite warm. And there was half a pack of fags in the pocket!”
“They could be Amy’s; she’ll batter you for nicking them!” George laughed, before holding his hand up to signal a voice in the headset. Watching Matty out of the corner of his eye as he processed the order, he smiled softly.
Leaning out of the window after the car passed on, he opened his mouth to speak, before a head popped round the corner.
“Can you get your break now George? You know it’s 45 minutes, right?”
Sue. Her annoyingly cheerful voice pervaded the room, his shifts, and his dreams; her unwaveringly optimistic outlook completely at odds with the grim day to day monotony. An assistant manager by 25, Sue was Ronald McDonald reimagined as a woman with a bun as tightly wound and meticulous as she was.
George hummed in assent, then took out the till as she reminded him to clock off before making his food.
“Just wanted to remind you that it’s a 45-minute break for you today!” Sue beamed. “Nothing more please.”
“Of course,” George replied, handing his till over to Ste who was covering his break. “I’ll go now.”
Waving goodbye to Matty who was still stood outside the window, he rolled his eyes and clocked out, aware of Sue peering over his shoulder like she personally paid his wages.
Later on, they both ended up at the front counter of the store, exchanging smiles over the bagging station in between orders. The steady stream of customers had lessened to a trickle as the early hours of the morning crawled by. George yawned and rubbed his eyes, resting against the counter. Matty looked up, silently asking if he was ok. Nodding as he returned the sentiment, smiling as the oil timer went off and he moved to pull up the fries.
Someone in the kitchen turned their own radio up, a fuzzy electronic dance tune drifting through to the front. Grabbing the mop, Matty swept it over the floor until it was upright and proceeded to dance around the handle; a bizarre mix of Talking Heads-esque knee-knocking, and over exaggerated hip swivels. He pulled the top of the mop handle towards himself, mimicking a microphone, then shoved it at George who giggled then leaned forward to mouth random lyrics, shaking his own hips in time with Matty’s.
“Excuse me! EXCUSE ME!!”
They turned simultaneously, preparing to face another customer hellbent on securing the perfect 99p burger.
“Hi, how can we help you?” George asked, his practised smile and “Happy to help” tone taking over.
“Look at this shite!” The man shoved his open cheeseburger right under George’s nose. “I asked for a PLAIN cheeseburger! This has cheese on it.”
Matty gave him a look.
The man continued his tirade, “It looks like it’s just been slapped together! This gives me the impression that the people who made my food don’t actually want to work here!”
George turned around and feigned interest in collecting the next order as Matty asked,
“So, is it a plain cheeseburger you want? No ketchup, onions, mustard or pickles?”
The man huffed.
“No cheese! How many times do I have to say this?”
“Right George can you ask for a plain cheeseburger, no cheese please?”
“Probably quicker to do it myself.” George said, an amused smile on his face as Matty continued to argue with the man over the difference between a plain hamburger and a plain cheeseburger.
He wrapped it up and handed it over, getting an exasperated sigh in return. Once the man was out of the door, he turned to Matty and said,
“Obviously we’re the divs here. Who would have thought a plain cheeseburger would come with cheese? Which idiot thought that up?”
“Unthinkable!” Matty mocked. He walked to the McFlurry station calling out for more lids and cups as he went.
Unboxing the lids, George heaved the tubes of medium cups out of the box and stumbled backwards, his elbow catching a nondescript white box with a round red button in the centre of the wall.
An alarm ripped through the music playing in the background; the heads hunched over making burgers jolted up.
He looked up and around, a white light began flashing above the counter.
“GEORGE!” Sue bellowed. “TURN IT OFF. NOW!”
George whirled around in confusion. “I don’t even know what it is! How do I switch it off?”
“It’s the panic button,” she said through gritted teeth. His stomach plummeted.
“You’ve just called the police - well done. We’re going to get fined for a false callout now!”
She power-walked over, shouldering past him to press the button again, and the flashing and wailing ceased.
“Big red button, that’s a bit cliche isn’t it?” George tried a joke uneasily.
Sue sent him a glare that made him want to shrivel like a chip in the warming tray. She stormed off to the office muttering about callout fees and George’s next payslip.
Matty was sniggering in the corner. “The job’s not that bad mate, no need to get the police involved.”
“It was clearly an accident!” George protested hotly. He turned over an empty red waste bucket and slumped down on it, resting his head on his arms.
“Hey, I’m only messing.” Matty said softly, walking over to cradle George’s head, who promptly turned his face up and buried it in Matty’s stomach. Running his hand through his hair, he looked at the clock.
“1 hour 27 minutes to go mate. Then we can get home and get you to sleep, you’re clearly knackered.”
“Mhm,” George mumbled. “Can’t come soon enough.”
*
07:06am - Clock out Accepted
“Fucking finally!” George sighed, as he swung the door open to leave the crew corridor. Matty followed behind, hoisting his bag on his shoulder as he went. They made their way out of the building, wove through the throng of office workers and pensioners alike, who were on the prowl for coffee. Taking his cap off, George let his shoulders relax and beamed at Matty on his left.
“Well that certainly wasn’t a boring shift.” he remarked.
“Walking out of there’s always the best part.” Matty added.
They continued down the road, the sun just beginning to seep through the heavy blue of the winter morning. Dodging the occasional puddle, the arrived at the bus stop, in the company of kids on their way to school. Standing as far away from them as possible, George pulled out his Blackberry, replying to a message from Ross, then checking the time. “The bus should be on its way right about – “
He was interrupted by the whoops and shouts of the uniformed mob as they surged towards the oncoming bus. Matty rolled his eyes, grabbed his hand, and pulled him through the doors. They sat on the lower deck; relatively free from anyone under the age of 16, keeping an eye on the stops in a comfortable silence as the bus trundled through the beginnings of the morning traffic.
Reaching their floor on the block of flats, George stumbled along the corridor as Matty fiddled with the keys, unlocking the door with a sigh of relief. He walked right through the door, dropping his coat and bag in unison with George, who bent to take his shoes off. Muttering under his breath, he swore at the tightly knotted strings encrusted with what looked like Big Mac sauce.
“You let me get on the bus with all this orange shit on my shoes?” he asked incredulously. Matty smirked and held up his hands, hardly the picture of honesty, he was trying half-heartedly to project.
“Didn’t even notice, swear down! I’m blind without those glasses – and you know I dropped them in the fryer.”
“That sounds like a you problem.” George replied, looking amused. He decided that food could wait – he needed sleep. Locking the door behind them, he went to flick the heating on, then moving through to their bedroom. Replacing his uniform shirt with a pyjama one and stepping out of his trousers, he flopped face first into the pillows: groaning in relief. Making space for Matty, who had pulled on a stolen fleece, he turned his head and smiled a tired smile.
“Good night. Love you.”
Matty chuckled. “Good morning if you want to be technical about it.”
But he only got a grunt in reply, George already half-asleep. Moving to wind his arms round him, Matty murmured, “Love you too.”