Chapter Text
Cast of Characters
McKruldo’s (McK’s)
Owner: Krul Teppes (heiress)
General Manager: Ferid Bathory (creepy)
Assistant Manager: Crowley Eusford (lazy)
Part-Timer: Shindou Mikaela (done)
Hiiragi Friend Chicken (HFC)
Owner: Hiiragi Kureto (real boss) & Hiiragi Seishiro (scared of the real boss)
General Manager: Hiiragi Shinya (sassy little shit)
Assistant Manager: Ichinose Guren (stressed as fuck)
Part-Timer: Amane Yuuichirou (baka Guren)
Other Part-Timers:
Hiiragi Shinoa (Shinya’s little sister and it shows)
Sanguu Mitsuba (Shinoa’s girlfriend, according to Shinoa)
Kimizuki Shihou (resentful of Yuu because he got the job through nepotism)
Saotome Youichi (cinnamon roll)
“Mika~ Mika~ Mi-Mika~ ❤️”
Mika let out a torrent of curses at the bathroom wall, as he heard his name called over the loudspeaker in that unmistakable sing-song voice. After four months of working at McKruldo’s, he finally understood all those movie clichés about employees wanting to kill their bosses, because right now, he was wondering if it was possible to kill this lilac-haired creep of a General Manager with a plastic fork.
You need the money. You need the money. You need the money, Mika reminded himself.
He repeated the mantra what seemed like a thousand times as he finished up his business and zipped up is uniform pants. Walking over to the sink, Mika wondered if it was possible to drown himself in it.
No, too shallow.
As he washed his hands, Mika looked into the mirror and wondered if he’d ever looked so tired. Well, there was no helping it. Since his parents kicked him out, he’d been crashing on his friend, Lacus’, couch while he saved up enough money to get an apartment somewhere. He was thankful that he was attending university on a scholarship, or he wouldn’t know what he would do. Unfortunately, his employment situation left much to be desired, but no one else would hire a kid living on someone’s couch.
Mika felt kind of bad for imposing on his friend. Well, actually Lacus wasn’t so much a friend as a good acquaintance. They’d met during university orientation and had a class together their first semester. Luckily, Lacus was barely home since he was always shacking up with his girlfriend–what was her name? Renée or something?–so he hadn’t minded when Mika asked if he could borrow his couch. After all, he’d said that as long as Mika kept bringing back those Special Blood Orange Shakes from McK’s, he was happy. They’re addictive, apparently.
Mika reached for the paper towel dispenser. It was one of those automatic, motion detection ones that were supposed to “Save You Money and the Environment.” He waved his hand. Nothing. Again. Still Nothing. It wasn’t until Mika had put his face up to the little window that shows how much of the roll is left when the dispenser finally started to spit out his damn towel.
Why does nothing ever work in this fucking store?
The fryer, too. Mika suspected that it was demon possessed. It was always too hot or too cold, and no matter what he did, it would splash hot oil in every direction, never actually being caught by the stupid guard that was supposed to prevent oil splashes and always, always ending up on his arms, or once on his face, right in the middle of the eyes.
The aforementioned creep of a General Manager, Ferid, had laughed way too much at the sight of Mika holding an ice-cube to the middle of his forehead, trying to cool the burn whilst spewing a creative array of curses at a piece of machinery.
That had been the first time Mika realized that he really wanted to kill his boss.
Mika sighed, and adjusted the red visor poised on his blonde hair. Damn, there was always that piece of hair that stuck up like an antenna no matter what he did. He tried to push it down. It sprung back up, and Mika half expected it to make a sound like sproing!!. Well, as annoying as it was, he wasn’t about to go use gel or hairspray. For one thing, it cost money. For another, it would look ridiculous.
The real problem, though, was the damn hat. Mika didn’t mind the dark pants, or the white shirt with its weird collar thingy–what was it even supposed to be?–but he swore to all the gods he didn’t believe in that if he had to hear one more customer make a ketchup and mustard joke, he would kill someone, most likely–no, definitely–his boss.
You need the money. You need the money. You need the money.
Mika chucked the towel in the trash and sighed one last time before stepping out of the safe haven of the employee bathroom and into the hell known as working-at-a-fast-food-restaurant-managed-by-a-creep.
Thank goodness it was mid-afternoon, in between the lunch and dinner rush, and the restaurant was almost empty. Maybe, just maybe, he would be able to survive the rest of his shift without being harassed by that-
“Mi-Mika!!”
The lilac-haired General Manager nearly tackled Mika as soon as he walked out of the employee-only area, pulling him into a very nonconsensual half-hug. Mika pushed him off.
“Mika, Mika,” Ferid whined. “I missed you so much, my Mi-Mika.”
Plastic fork. Death. How to. Must Google.
Mika’s face remained as indifferent as usual. Maybe if he ignored him, he’d go away. Yeah, right.
“Hey Mika,” Ferid said, bending at the waist so he was level with Mika’s extremely bored-looking blue eyes. “Is this an M for Mika? Or is it for McKruldo’s?” He poked the center of Mika’s visor.
Another reason he hated the fucking hat.
“Hahaha, Ferid-san,” Mika said, voice dripping with sarcasm, “that joke is just as funny today as it was yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that.”
“Oh, but it’s so cute!” Ferid crooned, completely ignoring the murderous intent wafting from Mika’s expression. “Little Mika with an M on his hat. So cute! Ooooh! I wonder if Mika is an M, too. How scandalous!” Ferid raised his hand to his mouth in feigned shock.
Not this shit again.
Mika closed his eyes, mentally counting to ten, all the while wondering if he should look up breathing exercises or something that might keep him from killing this guy. He decided to steer the conversation away from himself.
“Ferid-san, isn’t Crowley-san supposed to be on duty right now?” He asked.
“Yep!” Ferid winked, “but I saw your name on the schedule and knew I just had to see my cute and sexy Mika.”
Mika narrowed his eyes, hoping–just this once–looks could, in fact, kill.
“Oh!” Ferid piped up, suddenly remembering something, “I called you over the loudspeaker, why didn’t you come running into my arms?”
That question did not deserve an answer.
“Don’t you love me, Mika?” Ferid spread his arms as if expecting a hug.
Mika turned and walked away, grabbing a broom and dustpan from the supply closet.
“Eh?” Ferid pouted. “Where are you going, sexy little Mika?”
Without even bothering to look back, Mika headed straight to the door. “There’s no customers, I’m going to go sweep the parking lot.”
“Ok!” Ferid called after him cheerfully, “Just don’t forget to bend down to pick up the trash so I can see your cute little butt!”
As Mika pushed open the front door to the restaurant, only one thought was going through his mind.
I HATE MY JOB!