Work Text:
“I don’t know what you want me to tell you, mate,” Newt sighed. “You shot 200 speed film in a dark alley, and you didn’t use your flash. We’re not miracle workers.”
The customer rolled his eyes, slapping some money on the counter before huffing and storming away, his negatives abandoned.
“Whatever,” Newt mumbled to himself as he put the money away, chucking the film in the trash.
Newt enjoyed his job, for the most part. Not many people his age were already managers of a profitable business, let alone in a field that they actually enjoyed, and not just some desk job. He’d been a photographer ever since his dad gave him his first Polaroid, and running a 1-Hour Photo right in the heart of town was practically his dream job as a child.
So in moments like that, after he’s dealt with an incompetent customer, he tried to remind himself of all of the reasons he liked it there.
His boss, Vince, was an ex-hippie who let everyone get away with more than they should. This was usually nice, but also required Newt to be the bad guy on occasion. Someone had to keep the ship running. Still, he was about a good a boss as one could have.
His coworkers had all become his friends. Like Teresa, who was an expert chemist that managed to transition her skills to film development. She was too smart to work there, and they both knew it, but it was paying the bills until she could do something greater, and she seemed to like the work well enough. She was the most responsible one there next to Newt, and it was reassuring to have her there as steady support.
It was also nice to have Sonya around, even if her little sister antics were a bit much to handle at times. She was a part-time cashier when she wasn’t at school. In Newt’s dream scenario, they would one day take over the business together, but he knew that she wasn’t the type to stay in one place for too long. She would sigh at the photos customers were printing from their travels, wishing she could be where they had gone.
There was also Aris, one of the printers, responsible for making the developed film look presentable. Most of Sonya’s antics involved talking to him when she was supposed to be working, so Newt tried to schedule them apart as much as he could.
Zart was the other printer when Aris wasn’t working. He was one of the newer hires -- a good kid, hard worker, but a bit odd. Still, Newt had taken a liking to him.
Then there was Brenda, the full-time cashier. She had a lot of knowledge about camera mechanics, which made her perfect to help troubleshoot issues for customers. She was prone to having a “no-nonsense attitude” that sometimes got her in trouble, but her experience in film photography made up for it. Plus, that attitude sometimes helped customers get put in their place without Newt needing to come up and handle it.
Speaking of which, she should have been up here now, instead of Sonya. Where is she? She’s not on lunch yet.
“Where’s Brenda?” Newt asked Sonya.
She shrugged from where she had moved to after calling up Newt to help with the customer.
“I don’t know. She just said she needed me to cover her for a few minutes.”
“She didn’t say why?”
“Nope.”
“And you didn’t ask?”
“Nope.”
Newt scoffed, putting his hands on his hips.
“Why not?”
“It’s none of my business.”
“It kind of is.”
“Not really.”
Newt turned as the front door jingled, a customer walking in. He leaned into Sonya and lowered his voice to a harsh whisper.
“You are so lucky you’re my sister.”
He whipped around and walked to the back, hearing as Sonya switched to her customer service voice to greet the customer. If only they knew she was the devil. But even as he thought it, he didn’t really mean it.
“Hey, Newt!” Zart called from where he was sitting at the computer. “Check this out.”
Newt hesitated for a moment before walking over to him and giving a brief nod to Rachel, the film sleever and packager. Zart had a customer’s roll of film going through their scanner, the clunky computer loading an image. Large, orange buttons around it had options for adding Cyan, Magenta, Yellow, and Density, Zart finishing his edits as Newt had approached.
“It’s your favorite customer,” Zart mentioned. Newt looked at the screen; it was a picture of a brunette around their age, slightly blurry as he laughed, with unique moles dotting his cheek and neck.
Newt blushed. If even Zart noticed the way Thomas, their most frequent customer, made him feel, then he must really be in trouble.
“Get back to work, Zart,” Newt commanded, lightly fluffing his hair as he walked away. He could hear Zart snickering behind him, an oddly likable sound.
“Oh, by the way,” Zart called. Newt turned. “One of the paper rolls came in dented, you might want to call the company about that.”
Newt scowled. That was less likable.
“Alright. Thanks for telling me.”
Zart nodded, Newt turning and rounding the corner to see Teresa checking some boxes of chemicals, an inventory sheet in hand. She didn’t glance at Newt as he approached, too busy in her work.
“Hey, Teresa,” he greeted. She briefly glanced up, flashing a smile before going back to her list. “Shipment just came in?”
“Yup,” she answered. “But I think we’re missing a box of fixer.”
Newt’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure. Truck is still out back, so I’ll talk to the guy once I look this over.”
“Good, that. Have you seen Brenda?”
Teresa tensed for a moment, a brief break in her concentration. The two had had some sort of falling out a few months ago and weren’t on good terms. They worked together fine enough, but the relationship ended there.
“Not recently.”
Newt sighed. “Okay. Let me know if you do, yeah?”
“Sure thing,” she replied.
Newt continued walking through the lab, making a mental note of everything he had to address. Gotta educate customers on film speed. I need to call the paper company. Fixer might be missing. Teresa and Brenda are still on the rocks. My crush on Tommy is too obvious. His agitation building, he started noticing more things as he walked along. One of the overhead lights is flickering. Trash needs to be emptied. Some cobwebs in the corner. He could feel his face shrivel into a scowl, his footsteps getting heavier. Fucking boxes left to be unloaded. And I still don’t know where Brenda is.
One of the telephones on the wall started ringing, Newt instinctively picking it up.
“Hello, Wicked Fast Photo Lab, can I help you?” he greeted, voice pitched up to hide his agitation.
“It’s Sonya,” Sonya said, using the front counter’s phone. “A customer is complaining that the delivery truck is blocking the dumpster.”
“What?” he asked, voice immediately dropping. “Why the fuck do they need our dumpster?”
“I don’t know. But if the dumpster is blocked, then we can’t take out the trash, and that guy’s shitty 200 film just about topped my bin off.”
“Christ alive,” Newt mumbled. “Alright. I’ll…I’ll go find the driver. I gotta talk to them about the fixer anyway.”
“We’re missing fixer?”
“I guess! I don’t know.” He sighed. “Look, I’ll handle it. Just tell that customer to use the one across the street.”
“On it.”
They hung up, Newt stealing a small moment of reprieve to lean his head against the phone, closing his eyes and taking some deep breaths.
Focus, Newt , he told himself. One piece of bullshit at a time.
Taking one last breath, he stood up and steeled himself, continuing his walk to the back of the store. His goal was to go to his office and call the paper company about the dented roll, but something made him stop in his tracks.
The darkroom door was shut, the DARKROOM IN USE sign outside of it lit up. Strange , Newt thought. Teresa’s the only one on the schedule today who would be in there . Confused, he took a few steps closer. He thought he could hear some sort of shuffling on the other side, and maybe someone’s voice.
An annoyed suspicion started to cement in his gut. Frowning, he stepped forward and knocked---no--banged on the door.
“Who’s in there?” he asked with authority.
He could hear someone clearing their throat, and a bit more shuffling.
“It’s me,” Brenda said a little too casually. “Just thought I’d help Teresa out.”
“You never want to help Teresa out.”
It sounded like there was a stifled laugh.
“I’m trying to make amends,” Brenda countered. “Be a team player. That’s what you said, right?”
Newt stood there tapping his foot impatiently, even though she couldn’t see it.
“What are you doing in there.” He didn’t phrase it as a question, but a demand.
“Helping Teresa, I just said so.”
“Are you doing shots out of the film canisters again?”
Another stifled laugh. It sounded a little odd, but Newt couldn’t place why.
“No, dude. I only do that during holiday parties. Just trust me, I’ll be out in a few.”
Newt paused for a moment, contemplating.
“Alright,” he agreed. “Just see me when you’re done, yeah?”
“You got it, boss,” Brenda said.
Newt then proceed to make exaggerated footsteps in place, slowly quieting them to make it seem like he had walked away. After a minute or so had passed, he began to hear that same shuffling start up again, and more quiet laughter. Smirking to himself, and also potentially risking a customer’s film if Brenda had been telling the truth, he quickly used his key to unlock the door and whip it open, DARKROOM IN USE light be damned.
What he saw was…well. How to describe it?
Brenda was standing in front of the counter in the darkroom, her face turned to Newt in a moment of frozen terror. On the counter was not someone’s film being loaded, but rather…a man? And not just a man, but someone who was not one of Newt’s employees. He had his legs wrapped around Brenda’s waist in a weirdly gender-swapped position, and his frosted-tip spikes had been clearly tousled and messed up by…Newt didn’t want to know what. He had a few noticeable hickeys on his neck, and his button-down shirt had been un -buttoned to near completion, his undeniably toned chest exposed. He, too, looked at Newt in frozen terror, although he seemed to also somehow be amused.
“Um,” Newt said.
“Uh,” Brenda said.
They stared at each other for an awkward moment, Newt’s eyes flicking back and forth between her and the mystery man.
Newt then cleared his throat and looked down, briefly checking behind him to make sure no one else was around.
“Could your friend put his clothes back on, please?” he asked.
“Ah, shit. Sorry, bro,” the man said.
Newt continued to look away. “Care to explain yourself, Brenda?”
Brenda blew some air between her lips.
“Think it’s pretty self-explanatory, boss.”
“Sonya’s supposed to be learning how to sleeve film with Rachel today. If you want to have some fun, fine, but you can do it on your lunch.”
“I clocked out,” Brenda countered. “I’m not a monster.”
“You shouldn’t be using the darkroom for this,” Newt stated. Yes, he had done the same thing back when he was starting out, but she didn’t need to know that. “It’s unsanitary.”
“Jesus, Newt, we weren’t cumming in the developer.”
Newt choked on air, managing to compose himself. He looked up to see the man had cleaned himself up and hopped off the counter, his button-up now visibly showing the logo of… Wicked Fast Photo Lab?
“Pardon?” Newt asked.
The man blinked. “Yes?”
“You work here?”
The man looked down at his shirt in confusion. He pointed to his embroidered name on the other side.
“Yup. Minho, that’s me.”
Newt blinked. “I didn’t hire you.”
“No, some guy named Vince hired me. I’m the delivery driver.”
Oh, Newt thought. Then, audibly: “Oh.”
“That’s why I was in such a rush,” Brenda explained, wrapping an arm around his waist. Any trace of shame or regret seemed to have vanished, her usual smug confidence back. “I can only see him here once a week.”
Pieces started to click together. The shoddily parked truck. The missing box of fixer. The dented paper roll. It wasn’t from the company at all, it was from this Minho guy who couldn’t wait to wrap his legs around one of Newt’s best workers.
“You’re an awful delivery driver,” Newt deadpanned.
“But he’s a great kisser,” Brenda countered. Minho beamed as if he wasn’t two seconds away from being fired.
“Oh my god…” Newt groaned, rubbing his forehead. “Brenda, clock in and go back up front. Minho, you need to move your truck, it’s blocking the dumpster. And also, make sure you’re not forgetting anything, we’re missing a fixer. And stop denting our paper!”
Minho winced. “My bad.”
“Yeah! It is!”
Newt, grumbling to himself, turned around and started walking away.
“And take all the garbage out, too!” he yelled to Minho over his shoulder. “Since I guess you work here now.”
“On it, boss!” Minho called back, and Newt was really starting to hate being called that. And he hated that the actual boss had gone and hired someone behind his back. As if he didn’t have enough to worry about at the moment.
He continued the mental checklist of things he needed to take care of. He technically had just solved several, but he still had to deal with having a new incompetent hire, the flickering lights, the cobwebs…
“Driver’s got your fixer,” Newt mumbled to Teresa as he passed her. He tried to keep walking about further conversation, but she stopped him.
“Wait!” she called out. He turned abruptly. “Rachel asked me to tell you that the film sleever is jamming.”
“The fi-” Newt started, then stopped. He huffed out a breath. “Okay. I’m on it.”
Figures , he thought. Solve one problem, ten more pop up.
He made it to Rachel, who was standing helplessly at the film sleever, the plastic jammed and crumpled in the roller.
“Help,” she muttered, embarrassed.
Newt sighed, trying to relax his face. He probably already looked angry as hell, so the last thing she would have wanted was to make him mad. He wasn’t the manager not that long ago, he remembered what it was like.
“Here,” he said gently, slowly unraveling the crumpled sleeving. “What I like to do is unfurl the roll so there’s extra there. You don’t want it to be too tight, that’s what causes the jamming. Give it a little slack.” He demonstrated, cutting a few strips of film without incident. “See? Just keep doing that, you’ll be alright.”
Rachel smiled. “Thanks, Newt.”
Newt smiled back, happy that he could calmly help someone.
Then Sonya rushed up to him (from seemingly nowhere) as if there was a national emergency, and he was anxious all over again.
“NEWT!” she nearly screamed. “I need your opinion. Come look at these.”
Newt groaned. “Please tell me this is important. I’ve got way too much to do.”
“It’s crucial. Look.” She unfurled a bunch of pictures in front of him, clearly taken from a customer’s roll of film. “Do you think they’re gay?”
Newt’s eyes bugged out.
“Huh?”
“She’s one of our regulars. She always has this ‘friend’ that she comes in with, and they have all these pins and leather jackets, and I think they live together-”
“For God’s sake, Sonya, I don’t have time for this!” Newt snapped, the brief moment of calm he had all but forgotten. “I just found out Vince hired some idiot driver, our new paper’s got a dent in it, our lights are flickering, the store’s dirty, my workers are leaving their post to make out in the darkroom-” He shoved the pictures back into Sonya’s hands and started walking to the front counter. “-and you’re asking me for my opinion on two customers just because I’m gay?!”
As Newt finished his sentence, he realized several things at once.
- He was yelling.
- He had just outed himself to Zart, who didn’t know he was gay yet, since he was new.
- He didn’t know how Zart would take that. Hopefully well, considering they were in a pretty progressive area, but you could never really tell.
- He was yelling not just to his coworkers, but now to whoever was up front.
- Thomas was up front.
- Thomas was up front, and he had heard, and his eyes were wide.
And even in this moment of panic, Newt had a last realization that Thomas’ eyes were a beautiful dark brown. He looked like a deer caught in headlights.
“Um,” Newt said.
“Um,” Thomas said.
They stared at each other from across the store, only being interrupted by Brenda returning to her post. She looked concerned, probably from hearing the screaming all the way in the darkroom, and looked between the two of them with great interest. She said nothing, casually making her way to the register.
“Thanks for waiting,” she finally said to Thomas. “Picking up? I think your roll just finished.”
Thomas turned his attention to Brenda, and Newt was ready to take back all of the problems he had with her, just for doing that.
“Uh, yeah,” Thomas answered. “And, uh, a roll of Kodak 400, please.”
“You got it,” Brenda nodded. She turned around, raising her eyebrows at Newt as she retrieved his order and film. Newt tried to look at her, but realized Thomas had turned back to look at him, his expression a mix of curious and startled.
Panicking, Newt ran all the way back through the lab and into the darkroom, where Minho gave him a very confused stare as he slammed the door behind him.
He slunk down against the door, sitting on the cool linoleum floor. The lack of any other sensory input in there was helpful, the complete darkness and silence acting as a sort of buffer for his thoughts. He rubbed his palms against his eyes, hoping he didn’t just turn away one of their best customers because he couldn’t keep his composure.
What was he thinking, being a manager at his age? Hell, Teresa and Aris were older than he was. It didn’t matter if he had been working there since before it was technically legal. He still had a lot to learn, and everything was going wrong. He might as well have quit right then.
A knocking on the door startled him out of his thoughts. He sniffled, realizing at some point he must have started silently crying in frustration.
“What?” he grumbled.
“Thomas wanted me to give this to you,” Brenda said, sliding something under the door. Newt grabbed it.
“Brenda, I’m in the darkroom. I can’t bloody read it.”
“Right,” Brenda chuckled. She opened the door, Newt falling backwards onto her feet. He looked to see her upside-down above him.
“A warning would have been nice,” he mentioned.
“Just read the note.”
Newt did, holding it up to block out Brenda’s face.
Nice to hear there are more of us out there. Call me, I’ll take you out to dinner. As if I don’t give you enough money already. -Tommy
His number was written next to it, and also a poor doodle of a film camera.
Newt smiled, and Brenda must have somehow been able to see, or just knew.
“Still having a bad day?” she asked.
He didn’t answer her, but the answer was no. It was a pretty good day, actually.