Chapter Text
Evan wiped the tables down for the seventh time. “This is dumb. Why are we even here?”
“Because Mr. Stevens is an asshole,” Delirious said nonchalantly, paying out the ice for the soft drink machine on his register. “Big surprise.”
The wind rattled the windows, howling and trying to claw her way in. Snow whipped past, brutal and Midwest-ferocious. The parking lot already boasted snow drifts as high as the pumps. They couldn’t even see the main road anymore, their cars blurry gray shadows in the employee parking.
Evan tipped his head back and whined, glaring at the cameras over the register. “Hey, Tyler?”
The manager on duty looked up from the slushee machines he was shutting down for the season. “What?”
“Are the cameras working?”
“Fuck no.” Tyler went back to trying to fit his big-ass hand in the narrow parts compartment. “Brian’s working today. First fucking thing he did.”
“Yes,” Evan said, throwing the rag at Delirious. “I’m gonna get my phone.”
Delirious pouted, flinching a little as the rag flew past his head and landed on the second register counter behind him. “And if a customer sees? You know this town is full of snitches.”
“Delirious.” Evan pulled himself up onto Delirious’s counter, looming menacingly. “It’s six pm, already dark, and -30 outside during a snowstorm.”
“The snowstorm, if that shit keeps up,” Tyler called for Evan’s benefit.
Evan jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Tyler. “What he said. So nobody’s going to be out. We’re lucky we made it to work—in fact, I’ll bet we have to set up the cots and sleep in the backroom. So, please tell me, Delirious—who is going to snitch?”
Delirious swallowed hard. “Not me,” he squeaked.
Evan beamed and patted his head. “Thanks! I’m gonna get my phone.”
…
Brian pushed the mop against a fresh wad of chewing gum stuck to the floor, grumbling Irish slang under his breath.
“It’s not my fault!” Nogla yelled at him, on his hands and knees scrubbing out the corners. His jeans were soaked clean through from the knee down.
“You're the one who broke the damn floor machine!” Brian snapped back, arms burning. They’d done the kitchen, deli, bakery, and now the bathrooms over the course of four hours. They still had the back room and sales floor, and Brian was royally pissed. Firstly, at Nogla for busting the machine they used to scrub the floors in the first place, and secondly at Tyler for making him help Nogla do them.
“I swear I didn’t!” Nogla exclaimed, looking for all the world a kicked puppy. “On me granny!”
“Fuck your granny!”
“Would you two stop yelling?” Marcel came out of the cooler, dragging a stack of milk crates with the hook they’d made out of broomstick and a metal hanger. “I can hear you in the cooler.”
“Nogla fucking started it,” Brian griped.
“Don’t make me fucking finish it,” Marcel said, opening the swinging door to the back room.
Brian rolled his eyes and followed him, pushing the mop bucket. “How bad is it outside?”
“Fucking awful,” Evan slipped in behind him. “Can’t see across the parking lot, much less the road.”
“Yay—” Anthony said dryly, on break before he went back to shutting down the deli for the night. He’d propped his feet up on the stack of milk crates the first shift hadn't taken out, and didn’t move when Marcel nudged his foot for them.
Scotty made a whining sound, throwing his head back. “I don’t want to sleep in this cold-ass room again.”
“Dibs on a cot,” Brian said, hanging his mop up and grabbing the clean one for the sales floor.
“Not uh, you got it last time.”
“Yeah, and I had to share with the weird kid.”
Anthony snorted, eating a chip and offering the bag to Scotty. “Which fucking one?”
“What’d we call this one, Nogla?” Brian poked his head out the swinging door.
“Which one ye talking about? Dipshit Dirtbag or Butterfingers Bitch?”
“Butterfingers.” Brian snapped his fingers. “He sweated all night long.”
“That’s disgusting,” Evan said brightly.
Scotty gagged a little on his sandwich. “Please change the subject.”
“Well how many of us are here tonight?” Marcel asked, glaring at the absolute mess of crates, cardboard, and trash bags that needed to be taken out to the dumpsters yet tonight before they closed.
In all that freezing fucking snow.
“Eight?” Brian suggested, leaning on his mop.
“Nine,” Evan corrected, scrolling through his phone, leaning on the lockers. “Brock picked Delirious up on his way by. Foster dad’s drunk again.”
Anthony’s shoulders slumped and Scotty exhaled. “How bad this time?”
Evan hesitated. “His back. Took a belt to him.”
Anthony angrily stuffed a handful of chips into his mouth, Marcel wiping his face tiredly. “There’s no way we can report him to CPS?”
“Dude's brother-in-law works in the office,” Evan said. “Wouldn’t matter.”
“So we kidnap Delirious and play ring-around-the-rosy with him at our own houses,” Scotty said.
“Sounds good to me.” Brian grabbed his mop. “I’m gonna go beat the shit out of Nogla, then get started on the sales floor. Who’s doing bathrooms tonight?”
“Not us,” Anthony said, pointing to Scotty. “We’re on kitchen and deli cleanup.”
“Tyler can,” Marcel said, grabbing the neon yellow coat, getting ready to go outside. “Since it was his bitch-ass idea not to close the store at four before it started snowing.”
“He called Mr. Stevens,” Evan said, putting his phone back so he could go back to goofing off with Delirious at the registers. “Boss Man said no.”
“I’m gonna quit one of these days,” Scotty said, groaning as he got to his feet and threw his soda can away. “I don’t need this damn job.”
“College fund has to start somewhere,” Anthony sighed.
Brian snorted, going back to Nogla.
The lights flickered.
They all paused, staring at the ceiling.
“If the power goes out—” Brian started, already cold in the long-sleeve he wore under his uniform.
“Looks like we’re all cuddling tonight,” Anthony clapped Scotty’s shoulders. “Hey, Scotty, wanna sleep with me?”
“Ew. Take me out to dinner first.”
“All you had to do was ask.”
Evan rolled his eyes and left to keep Delirious company.
…
Brock huffed, watching Delirious from the bakery counter.
“Quit thinking about it, man,” Scotty said, on his way through to grab extra towels. Brock always kept his department clean and well-stocked—Anthony and Scotty? Not so much. “You’re doing what you can.”
“It’s not enough.” Brock viciously scrubbed at the cemented frosting on his counter, taking his anger out on the first shift's mess.
“It never will be. There is nothing ‘enough’ to make him better. You’re doing what you can. We all are.”
Brock nodded, ignoring the burning in his eyes. It wasn’t fair. Delirious was the sweetest kid, the youngest out of all of them.
But that didn’t stop his foster dad from beating the shit out of him for fucking breathing too loud. Delirious had cried the whole way to the store after Brock picked him up, and it had taken Evan the better part of an hour to get him to smile.
“Don’t go to jail, Brock,” Scotty said, grabbing a handful of towels. “You can’t help anyone from there.”
…
“It’s been fucking hours,” Nogla bellyached, face-down at one of Evan’s squeaky-clean tables. "No one's coming in this storm."
“Can we please close early?” Evan asked, sprawled flat on his back on Delirious’s counter. “Who’d know?”
“Fuck Mr. Stevens,” Scotty whined across from Nogla. “There’s literally nothing else to clean, except, like, the ceiling.”
“Don’t give him fucking ideas!” Anthony whisper-hissed, shooting Scotty a filthy glare.
“Hate to side with the lazy asses—” Brock started, giving Scotty and Evan a side-eye. “But Stevens is prolly gonna call us in the morning and tell us to open at four--no one else is gonna make it in. We should try and get some sleep.”
Tyler sighed. “Fine. Start shutting everything down. If any of you snitch to Stevens—” he gave a pointed finger to his friends. “I’ll beat your asses.”
“Thank fuck,” Nogla practically shoved Anthony out of the way in his haste to get to the back room.
“He’s trying to get the cot without the holes in it!” Marcel shouted, taking off after him.
Evan made to race after his friends, the rest of them bolting to the back room, but Tyler caught his shoulder and whipped him around to the registers.
“Shut your shit down first,” he said. “Then lock the front door. I’ll get the back and lock down the office and departments.”
Evan pouted. “But Nogla’s gonna get the best cot.”
“No, I am.”
Evan quirked an eyebrow.
Tyler grinned. “Hid it in the office when I got here.”
Evan rolled his eyes, hitting the ‘End Shift’ button. “Asshole.”