Chapter Text
Heathcliff was having a shit day. His backpack was full of cheese, and he’d spent about $400 on it for some damn reason -what cheese could possibly be good enough to cost that much- and his plane was delayed and bloody Linton would not shut up.
“Do you know how important this is? I would expect even you to understand that you need food at a party,” Linton prattled over the phone held to Heathcliff's ear. Case in point. “You did manage to get all the types I requested, right?”
“Mate, I don’t bloody know how to tell the difference between your cheeses,” replied Heathcliff with a sigh. “I gave them the list you made me write down, and they gave me cheese. That's all I can tell you.”
“You better not have gotten the wrong types! Also, when are you getting here?”
“Flight’s still delayed, so no idea.”
Linton huffed. “Can't you just pay to get on another flight?”
“I barely had enough to get this ticket in the first place!”
Heathcliff thought for a moment. “Actually, I don't even know if I'll have enough for a taxi to Wuthering Heights. Can you transfer me the money right now?”
Silence from the phone. “…The money for what?”
Heathcliff's eye twitched. “For the four hundred dollars of cheese, and the express flight to get the cheese to you, and ideally the money I spent to go five hours out of my way to go get the cheese in the first place!”
Linton laughed. Heathcliff hated his laugh. It was tinkling, and obnoxious, and always sounded like he knew something you didn’t. “But Heathcliff, I believe we agreed that you were covering the costs! Out of the kindness of your heart, I thought. Silly me, I should have realized you would try to go back on that. Street dogs will always scrounge for scraps, after all.”
Heathcliff's jaw was clenched so tight he could feel his teeth cracking. Nearby, a person in a long red coat gave him a curious look.
“I do not have the money to pay for this, and the only reason I even went to buy it was as a favour for Cathy. Give me my damn money.”
Another tittering laugh, and a click of the tongue. “We can discuss it when you arrive at the manor, if you insist. I may find it within myself to recompense you slightly, since you seem so pitiful.”
Heathcliff opened his mouth to respond— and the line went dead. Probably for the best, since whatever he was about to say would have lost him the ability to even enter the house. But with no one left to yell at, he was starkly reminded of his current situation.
Around him the airport bustled on, uncaring. The man sitting across from him was holding what looked like a massive mutant cockroach. It growled at him. Were cockroaches supposed to be able to growl?
Heathcliff slumped down on his chair and put his head in his hands. He got about three minutes of moping in before there was a tap on his shoulder.
He looked up, putting on his best “don't test me right now” face. The man standing above him seemed unphased, unfortunately.
“Are your cheeses in a cooler?” the man asked. He was in a three-piece suit, black hair neatly jelled and looking altogether too fancy to be interacting with Heathcliff right now.
Why the hell is he asking about the cheese? Why do rich people care so much about cheese?
“…No, they aren't. I just have my backpack, I don't carry around coolers with me. Why?”
“Most cheeses will go bad if left unrefrigerated for the length of time it will take you to get to your destination,” the other man replied.
Shit.
“Well thanks for telling me I'm even more screwed than I thought, mate. Appreciate it.”
The sarcasm seemed to be lost on the other man. “That was not my intention,” he replied with a serious expression. “I was going to suggest that we consume the cheese that will be going bad, so as to minimize your losses.”
Heathcliff blinked. “You're… asking to eat my fancy cheese?”
“…If you feel this arrangement is unfair, as I confess it may be, I can offer this in exchange.” The man reached into his bag and pulled out an expensive-looking bottle of wine.
One, who the hell was this guy. Two, this was not Heathcliff's cheese to eat in the first place. He needed to give it to Linton and get paid or he was fucked, which did not align well with it being already digested.
Although if some of the cheese was going to go bad anyways, it wasn’t like he’d get his money for it back regardless. And he could really use the wine.
“Yeah, alright,” Heathcliff replied, opening his bag to reveal the neatly wrapped cheeses. “But I'd still like to have something to give Linton. How much of this won’t go bad?”
Suit Man rummaged through the bag. “Approximately one third of these cheeses may still be in good shape by the end of the day. The rest will certainly not be, and as such attempting to save them for their intended recipient will be fruitless.”
“Two thirds of this is going in the bin? Shit, I’m going to lose so much money… and there's no way the two of us could eat all of that even if we wanted to. There's only so much plain cheese I can stomach.”
“I'm afraid I don't have anything to provide other than the wine,” said the other man. “My sincere apologies.”
There was another tap on Heathcliff's opposite shoulder, accompanied by a loud ticking noise. He looked over.
The person in the red coat had made their way over to him. They had an ornate looking pocket watch, the apparent source of the ticking. They raised their hands and signed, <<I have some crackers if you'd like.>> They held up a box of Wheat Thins.
The other man nodded, acting as though this was all perfectly normal. “Yes, those are acceptable. Would you like some of the cheese in exchange?”
<<I would, thanks! But I heard about the cost, I'll gladly pay this man for it.>>
A bubbly voice intruded into the conversation as a man in a dragon onesie walked up. “Oh, is there a cheese sale happening? I was just thinking about how I didn't have anything to snack on for this upcoming flight!”
Cockroach Man waved from his seat. “I’ll take some too, if you're trying to get rid of it.”
Heathcliff was beginning to feel he had lost control of the situation.
…On the other hand, he might as well get his money back from somewhere.
“Fine. I'll sell off anything that’ll be going bad. You-“ he pointed at Red Coat “-get a discount for providing the crackers.”
As the people formed an impromptu line, Heathcliff remembered there was a small flaw in this plan. That being, he had no idea how much each individual cheese had cost. He looked over at Suit Man desperately. Suit Man dipped his head slightly. “I can handle the prices.”
Never mind, who cared if he was weird, this man was a godsend.
Cockroach Man, Dragon Onesie, and Red Coat all paid for their cheeses, and some of the other people waiting for the plane wandered over and ended up buying some as well. Maybe they had all heard Heathcliff's conversation and felt bad for him. Or maybe it was another example of airports making you feel like the regular rules don't apply, so you might as well buy a $30 wheel of cheese from a stranger. Hell if Heathcliff knew, the important part was that after a while he had made $250 back. A lot of the softer cheese was gone, and a couple of the hard cheeses too because some people had been making really good offers (according to Suit Man. Who had been attempting to teach Heathcliff about the different types of cheeses and their prices. Heathcliff wasn't sure he had retained any of it, but at least it seemed like he wasn't being scammed).
Beside him, Suit Man cleared his throat and snapped Heathcliff out of his momentary trance. “I'm happy to pay for my portion of the cheese as well.”
Heathcliff shook his head. “Nah, you already helped enough. Without you I wouldn't have known it was going bad in the first place, and I would’ve lost all the money. Just split that wine with me and we’ll call it even.”
Suit Man nodded. Heathcliff really needed to stop calling him Suit Man.
“What's your name, by the way?”
“Meursault.”
“I’m Heathcliff. Nice to meet you, I suppose. Let's start eating before the bloody airport finally remembers we were supposed to have boarded already.”
“—And then that bastard pretended like he hadn't said he’d pay for it all in the first place!”
It was about 30 minutes later. The plane still hadn't been cleared for boarding. Heathcliff didn’t remember exactly how, but he had ended up ranting about his life to Suit Guy— Meursault— and the other people around him.
Red Coat passed him another cracker. He bit into it angrily. “Why do I even care what he thinks! He wouldn't respect me no matter what I did! I could bring him all the cheese in the world and it wouldn't improve his opinion of me!”
Dragon Onesie (who had introduced himself as Hong Lu, despite no one asking his name) had taken up residence on Heathcliff's other side, and patted his back gently. “It sounds like it's better that we eat the cheese anyways! He probably doesn't deserve it~”
“He doesn't! He's a right prick! The only reason I tolerate him is cause he's engaged to Cathy, and if he doesnt let me in the house I can’t see her!”
“Who’s Cathy?” asked Hong Lu.
Heathcliff paused for a moment. How do you say “we were raised together and I’ve loved her for the majority of my life at this point and she was the only thing that made my childhood bearable and it turns out she loved me too but somehow that made things worse because all we did was hurt each other and everyone around us and also she was already engaged to fucking Linton so I did the hardest thing I’ve ever done and left and I have my own life now but I still love her and I always will but I don’t want to be near her but if Linton says they need cheese for a party I’ll bring it just to make her happy—”
“She's… a person.”
Great job, Heathcliff.
Hong Lu opened his mouth like he was about to ask for clarification.
Cockroach Man snapped his fingers. “Hey.. Hong Lu, was it? Can you come over here for a second? I think Pablo needs someone to entertain him, he's getting antsy.” As Hong Lu moved over, distracted, Heathcliff gave the man a grateful look. He smiled back briefly.
Then the speakers crackled. “Boarding for Flight 0507 will begin in five minutes.” Finally.
As people started to gather their bags, Meursault turned to Heathcliff. “We have not yet finished the cheese, or the wine. Would you be amenable to sitting together on the plane?”
“Eh? I mean, it's a good idea, but I don't think you can just change seats like that. You're probably in first class, right? I'm sure not.”
“Not to worry,” Meursault said calmly. “I can arrange for you to join me free of charge.”
No, seriously, who was this guy?