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The man’s wide grin turns slowly but surely from devastatingly charming to maniacally homicidal, and the lip balm he’d been playing with lets out an echoing clunk as it lands against the counter.
He blinks twice as he finishes registering the information you just gave and you avert your eyes, uncomfortable in the awkward silence that follows. This is only your third day on the job, and you’re already regretting your previously negative feelings for the old ladies who try and chatter you to death every time they come to get their prescriptions filled —as exhausting as they are, at least they handle most of the conversation and don’t leave you hanging like this.
“You’re out? I’ve been coming here for years and this has never happened before, I don’t… What do you mean you’re out?” he asks eventually.
His voice has lost the mocking singing tone it had taken for all your interactions prior to those news, and you'd almost be scared of him if he also didn’t look like he’s about to go into a complete meltdown.
“Um… well, that means we don’t have any left in store,” you explain.
He only blinks at you again, and it dawns on you that this was probably one of those rhetorical questions you’ve heard so much about.
The sound of someone clearing their throat arises from behind this clearly shell shocked gentleman and Mister Giacometti, who you’re familiar with from your first day working here and the very intimate advice he requested —and even more intimate, though unnecessary, details he provided before getting said advice— quickly nudges the stranger aside to drop a mountain of colorful boxes between the two of you.
“And I hope you weren’t looking for condoms as well, my friend, because I’m buying them out of those this instant!”
Mr Giacometti beams at the guy —who doesn’t even seem to hear him as he takes a few steps back and looks like he’s thinking over his options— before he winks at you and hands over his card.
“You okay? Is he bothering you?” he asks under his breath, smile intact as he gives you a quick, worried once over.
“I’m fine, Mister Giacometti. But thanks,” you reassure him as you quickly scan the items he’s chosen.
“Oh, honey, after what I asked you last week, I think you can call me Christophe.”
“I’m not sure I’m allowed to do that,” you mumble, genuinely wondering what your employer’s stance on that would be. “But I am glad you seem to be doing better,” you dare to add with a pointed glance at the purchases he’s put away in a rainbow-patterned tote bag.
“Much better, thank you! In fact, I’m as good as new and ready to enjoy myself this weekend. Have a great one yourself!” he calls out with another wink.
“You too,” you reply with a smile.
You’re about to take pity on the man from earlier and tell him that you’re going to look in the back to make sure there isn’t a non registered box laying thereby any chance, when someone storms inside from the busy street.
In the short seconds it takes them to make a beeline for you, you notice that their glasses are askew on their nose, their shirt is damp from the massive wet mane on their head that’s dripping all over the floor —you take a quick look out and, just as you thought, there’s not one cloud in the blue summer sky— and they let out a curse as they literally throw themself on the counter separating the two of you.
“I need bandages! Quickly!” They demand, stretching their arm out and failing to grab your lab coat by a breath when you take a step back at the sudden movement.
You clear your throat and walk around the counter, pulling your desk chair with you and offering them a seat as you silently take them in.
“Calm down, Si— well, I'm not actually sure... Ma’am?”
“Either’s fine! I don’t care! I need bandages now!” they reply, still yelling, still standing.
“Alright, well, why don’t you take a sit and tell me what happened? Are you hurt? Do you need me to call emergency services?”
You should, right? You can’t see any obvious injuries, but their agitated state doesn’t bode well in itself. Your questions seem to effectively shake them out of it though, and they stand back up and tilt their head while staring at you, crossing their arms over their chest.
“What? I’m fine, why would you think I’m hurt?” they ask, sounding sincerely curious.
Your mouth opens and close as you hesitate on how to answer that. You look around the room for help, but the only other person around is Weird Guy from earlier who’s not even pretending to be discreet about eavesdropping on this conversation.
Great, well. Let’s hope this was not a rhetorical question then.
“Well, because you barged in here looking all disheveled, screaming at me to get you bandages like a madperson in need of several kinds of medical asssistance,” you try, only realizing after the words have left your mouth that they don’t place well on a scale from mildly insensitive to incredibly rude.
There’s a chortle to your left, and you’re almost thankful for the interruption when Crazy Glasses' glare turns to your one other customer. The two of them eye each other carefully for a bit, before the one you’ve just insulted spots the mirror near the reading glasses stand and must catch their reflection in it.
They briefly take in their appearance, and laugh out loud at the sight.
“Alright, I guess I can see where you’re coming from,” they grant you with a snort that's somehow cute. “Didn’t mean to scare you, but this is important, okay? We’ve got an expedition coming up in a couple of weeks, and although I have a tremendous amount of theoretical work to do in the mean time, I’m still a Section Commander and I have to keep up my physical training. Can’t afford to have the Scouts lose one of their smartest assets because they couldn’t train properly, right?”
“Sure, of course.”
You’ve just decided you’re not risking any longer sentences for the upcoming month or so, and you sure as fuck aren’t about to contradict that statement, whatever the hell they meant by it.
“Ah, so you see why I’m in a bit of a hurry! Of course I wouldn’t be in such a pickle if Levi hadn’t decided I needed a bath today of all days, right when I’m down to the very last of my stash. But he did, and then he flat out refused to give me back any of the bandages I’d been wearing before he threw me into the water because they could apparently be likened to a health hazard of some kind. Which is ridiculously typical of such a neat freak as him to say, isn’t it? Anyway, now I’m all clean and I need to train, which means I need to flatten my chest properly because I’m no use to anyone with those two things dangling in the way. Will you please sell me some bandages to that effect?”
It’s fascinating that they managed to get all of that out in one breath and that they’re not even panting as they keep their hands out in front of their chest in a gross exaggeration of the breasts in fulll view under their drenched, see-through yellow shirt.
It takes you a second more than it should to detach your eyes from there and look back up at their face, and for some reason Weird Guy decides he should intervene in that lapse of time.
“They’re out of those,” he informs them, much more cheerful than he was when you told him the news earlier.
“What?”
“Bandages. They're out of them. And if there were any left, they would be sold to me anyway. I was here first.”
“Well, whatever you need them for, I think I should get them. I need them to do my job properly,” Crazy Glasses tries to argue.
Weird Guy pulls up one of the sleeves of his tan trench to show his bandaged forearm, and then gestures to what’s visible of his neck under his shirt, also wrapped in the white material.
“I understand, but see, I have a similar issue. I pissed someone off who took revenge on me by burning my entire stock —how immature, right? that angry little mafioso, I swear to God— when bandages are basically my underwear and I need to change these today. I can’t exactly go to work without underwear, now can I?” he asks, ending with a condescending chuckle.
Crazy Glasses doesn’t look offended by his tone, so much as they seem puzzled by his words.
“Why not? I almost always forget them. In fact, I’m not even wearing any right now!”
“Yeah, I figured as much,” Mummy Guy says.
“You did? How? Is it really that obvious?”
The sudden pause in their back and forth makes you realize with horror that this last question was addressed to you, and now they’re both staring and waiting for your answer —one of them looking almost anxious to hear it, while the other is clearly holding back laughter.
You’re saved by the prophetic bell when the automatic doors slide open, and a tall, broad blonde man enters the shop at a brisk pace.
“Hey, Tanaka, I need— Oh,” he cuts himself off when he takes in the three people in front of him, before turning to you. “Are you new? Tanaka usually mans the house on Saturdays, doesn’t she?”
You almost sigh in relief; you could definitely use a boring prescription to fill right now.
Even though this gentleman looks so young you really hope he’s not already plagued by a chronic illness. In fact, he looks very fit, too, and for a moment you almost wish Mr Giacometti was still here so you could blame the inappropriate thought on him.
Before you think of another, terrifying possibility for this gentleman’s presence here.
“Please tell me you’re not looking for condoms,” you say before you can help yourself.
Three pairs of eye settle on you and widen at once, and you would feel guilty about the awkwardness in the room right now if you weren’t busy dreading having to deal with two product shortages in one single shift.
“What? No! Rei and I aren’t… I mean, no. No, I don’t need condoms,” he says, adorably turning the same shade of red as his hoodie.
“Alright, then what can I do for you?” you ask, back to acting professional now.
“Well, you see, my daughter got hurt,” he starts again, and you notice Mummy Guy’s starting to laugh again out of the corner of your eye, “and I thought we had everything at home but it turns out someone forgot to tell me he'd taken the last of the bandages... And so now, I need some for Miri's wound.”
You tune out the sound of Crazy Glasses enthusiastically pointing out and explaining the coincidence to Sexy Dad, and pinch your nose as you take a calming breath in.
“Okay, you three just… wait here, I’ll just go and check if we have a forgotten box” and your fucking sanity, while you’re at it, “in the back. Alright?”
You hear them approve that suggestion as you head to the locked storage room, praying that as much fun as the universe seems to be having at your expanse right now, it isn't so cruel that you won't find a cardboard filled with today’s most wanted item in the entire shop somewhere in here.
You spot a familiar brand on an open box in the far corner of the room and practically run towards it, thanking your lucky star… until you peer inside.
And spot the one and only available article left in it.
Fuck.
If they hadn’t mentioned someone force bathing them with the fondest tone of voice you’ve ever heard in your life minutes before, and if you weren't supposed to be working and not creeping out clients in this job you only just got, you would ask Crazy Glasses out on the spot for their reaction when you come back to the front with the sad, underwhelming results of your quest.
“Well obviously, we’ll let you have it,” they declare, gesturing Sexy Dad’s way with an air of authority you wouldn’t have guessed they could pull off. "As much as the two of us need this, your child’s injury should take priority.”
Mummy Guy opens his mouth, likely to protest, but eventually huffs in defeat and nods his agreement to that plan.
You’ve just handed the box over to Sexy Dad when the door lets someone else join on this ridiculous party, but you close your mouth around the very tempting, but very inappropriate let me guess, stranger, looking for fucking bandages too? you were planning on asking the newcomer when a child squeals in delight and runs straight into Sexy Dad’s legs.
“Kazuki-Papa, there you are! Look at the ice cream Rei-Papa got me, isn’t it huuuge?”
“Miri? What are you doing here?” he asks, glaring at the guy who walked in behind the little girl.
“I wasn’t going to babysit your brat all afternoon,” comes the disinterested answer from a shorter, black-haired guy and damn, you kind of want to reassign the Sexy Dad moniker when you lay eyes on him.
“I’ve only been gone for ten minutes! I told you I was just getting bandages for her injury."
“Injury? You mean that paper cut she got earlier? I put one of those ridiculous dinosaur band aids on it right after you left. Look.”
He holds up the little girl’s arm to show off his handiwork while she giggles and says something that gets lost in her mouthful of ice cream, and there’s a hint of smugness on New Sexy Dad’s otherwise not very expressive face.
“See? She’s fine, you mother hen.”
“Don’t call me tha—
“Papas, who are these people staring at us?”
OG Sexy Dad stops bantering with the guy he’s not using condoms with, and smiles sheepishly at your two other clients.
“Ah, well, it seems like I won’t need these after all! Sorry for the mix up,” he has the decency to say as he slides the box back to you and starts walking away. “Alright, Miri, let’s go home and put all of Rei-Papa’s games on the top shelf where he can’t get to them to teach him a lesson, shall we?”
You’ll never know what reply from New Sexy Dad he gets for that, but his words seem to trigger an idea in Mummy Guy’s brain.
“Ooh, I might do that too,” he plots, body still halfway turned towards the exit. “Chuuya's going to lose his mind, I wonder what he'll burn in retaliation this time.”
“I was just thinking of doing the same thing to someone I know!” Crazy Glasses replies, their commanding demeanor completely gone now. “Is this Chuuya your boyfriend?”
At that, Mummy Guy makes a similar face to the one you saw earlier when you told him you were out of bandages, and it’s almost endearing how flustered he looks.
“I don’t— I mean, we’ve never defined… Hey, is that a lightsaber on your hip?”
The deflection is so obvious you expect Crazy Glasses to call him out on it, but they seem completely oblivious to it.
“Huh, a whatsaber..? No, that’s just the hand grips from my ODM gear, they were still attached to my pants because I was working on improving them when Levi cornered me… Not that they need much improvement, mind you. They are already part of an equipment that guarantees quick painless death even to the greatest, most amazing monsters walking our lands, after all!”
There’s a frankly concerning glint that lights up in Mummy Guy’s eyes at those words, before he takes the object from Crazy Glasses’ hands and faces away from you.
“Quick painless death, you say… Why don’t you tell me more?”
“With pleasure!” Crazy Glasses replies, and starts rambling as the two of them walk out into the street together.
It takes you a minute to look away and back down at your hand.
You're still holding that fucking box of bandages none of them ended up buying.