Work Text:
PJ likes his job. Ikea is a great place to work at. The furniture is beautiful, the atmosphere is lovely and homey and the food is great. Work usually involves him helping people find fake plants and bedspreads.
However, today’s a bit different. It’s a slow day, not many people coming in.
“Peej, mate!” Chris claps him on the shoulder, and PJ swivels around to face his friend. “Could you help me out a bit?”
“Sure,” PJ replies. “What’s up?”
“There’s a bit of a commotion going on at the cutlery section. Which is at the other side of the store,” Chris explains, eyes wide. PJ knows what he’s going to ask.
“I’ll go check it out,” he says, and Chris brightens up instantly.
“You’re the best,” he beams, hugging PJ briefly before bounding off. PJ rolls his eyes fondly before heading in the opposite direction.
*
As PJ walks towards the cutlery section, he hears two male voices talking over one another.
“Look at this! There are three forks, Phil, what happened to symmetry?” says the man with brown hair, gesticulating wildly. The slightly shorter man with black hair- Phil, PJ guesses- shakes his head.
“They’re nice, though,” he says. “They’re so shiny!”
“But there are two of us, and three of these,” the brunette says empathically. “This set wasn’t made for us.”
PJ hides behind a stack of bowls as he watches the pair bicker. It’s kind of intriguing. He’ll intervene later, if things get too bad.
“Okay, fine, Dan,” Phil says. He picks up a box, showing it to the taller man. “What about this? It’s got four of everything.”
“Mm,” the brunette- Dan-scrunches up his face into an expression of distaste. “They’re too, well. Shiny.”
“Too shiny?” Phil repeats, an incredulous expression on his face. “Okay, look, how about you find something that pleases you and we’ll talk it out.”
Dan doesn’t reply, turning around instead and sorting through the boxes. Phil starts observing a row of glasses.
PJ has watched TV shows with less interest before. There’s something about these two that keep his attention.
“Phil,” Dan breaks the silence after about two minutes, during which PJ pretended to organize the stack of bowls he was hiding behind. “Look at this.”
He holds out a box to Phil who looks at it with obvious dislike.
“Bear, they’re too, I don’t know,” he says, waving his hands as if trying to prove a point. “They’re far too dull.”
“First it’s too shiny, now it’s too dull,” Dan scoffs in reply. “I didn’t know we could spend this much time arguing over forks and knives, Phil.”
“I’m not exactly having fun, Dan,” Phil snaps back. “I want to get my lamps.”
PJ almost laughs out loud at Phil’s dramatic statement, but he keeps quiet. He figures this isn’t exactly the best time. He also figures this might be a good time to stop them from going into full fight mode.
“Um,” he coughs, stepping out from behind his bowls. “Excuse me, Sirs.”
Dan and Phil turn around, identical questioning looks on their faces. PJ feels slightly intimidated.
“I heard you arguing and it’s pretty loud, so,” PJ gestures at the box helplessly. “Please keep it down.”
“Oh!” Phil smiles, stepping forward slightly. His smile is open and friendly. “We’re sorry about that.”
“No worries,” PJ says, smiling back. He watches as Dan smiles uncomfortably before placing the box back. PJ takes this as his cue to leave.
*
“You done?” Chris asks, once PJ gets back to the bedroom section, where Chris always is. “You were away for a pretty long time.”
“Yeah, just these two guys fighting about forks,” PJ answers, plopping onto a Queen-sized bed with storage.
“Forks, eh? Sounds domestic,” Chris remarks. PJ realizes that yes, it is rather domestic. He wonders if Dan and Phil are in a relationship.
In any case, it’s none of his business. His question won’t be answered. Shrugging it off, he pulls out his phone and starts checking his Instagram and Twitter.
The question lingers in the back of his mind.
*
“Peej, I swear there’s either a monster or something worse in the closet by the single beds,” Chris says, a panicked look on his face. PJ hasn’t moved from his position on the bed in the past hour, experimenting with photo filters and effects.
“Is there now?” he asks dully, ready to fall asleep. “Go open it, then.”
“Or, you could do it,” Chris says hopefully. “So I don’t die, you know.”
“Of course,” PJ replies. “So I’ll die.”
“Spot on,” Chris grins, patting PJ’s shoulder. “Love you!”
PJ sighs. He really needs to stop giving in to Chris.
He makes his way to the closet, noticing that it is indeed rattling. There’s no one around, save for a young girl staring at the quilt designs. PJ knocks the closet door hesitantly.
“Anyone in there?” he calls out. The rattling stops.
“Fuck,” whoever’s inside says. PJ knocks again.
“Can I open the door?” he asks, and there’s no response. Hoping dearly to see nothing scarring, he opens the door carefully, and-
It’s Dan and Phil. The top button on Phil’s shirt is unbuttoned, and his hair is a mess. Dan’s lips are swollen, cheeks flushed.
PJ doesn’t look downwards. He doesn’t want to know.
“Hello again,” PJ says. Phil blushes.
At least his question’s answered now. There’s no doubting whether they’re in a relationship or not.
“Um, sorry,” Dan offers, coughing. PJ laughs.
“I think I’m going to have to kick you out now,” he tells them. Phil’s eyes widen, and PJ explains quickly. “It’ll probably benefit everyone. We won’t have any more disruptions, and you guys can, uh,” he clears his throat. “Release your tension.”
“Ah, well,” Phil says. “That’s a good idea, probably. Win-win.”
“Right,” Dan pipes up. Both of them are staring at the ground.
There’s a horribly awkward, prolonged silence.
“I’ll be off, then,” PJ says, finally. Dan nods, lifting his head and smiling at PJ.
“Thanks, mate,” he responds.
“Hope to see you again,” PJ says, smiling faintly, Dan and Phil both chuckle, before walking off.
“All I wanted was a lamp,” PJ hears Phil grumble.
This time, he does laugh out loud.