Chapter Text
The cinema was on its last leg, to put it lightly. The lights were replaced with fireflies in JARS, new customers were driven off by the suspiciously sticky carpet, and the bills seemed to pile up as fast as they were gone. Mr.Dickens sighs wearily while adjusting his monocle, then stands from his desk. Admittedly he’s seen more of his office than his own home as of lately. He collects the most important documents, noticeably almost all bills, then places them in his courier bag for travel. A part of him wishes that his days weren’t so dreary and repetitive. Wake up, go to the cinema, work all day, go home, eat dinner, then sleep. Mr.Dickens shook his head at the thought. He misses the days when he enjoyed this. The exhausted phonebooth-headed man exits his office and heads toward the main area where his best, (and only), employee should be cleaning up to end his shift.
Oliver seems to be humming some tune while wiping down the service counter and playing music from the MP3 player in his pocket. There's a hint of concern on his face. To anyone else, it would seem like he wipes it down his entire shift idly. Deep down, Mr. Dickens knows that the counter does get dusty that quickly.
What a dump this place has become.
As he approaches the door to flip the sign from open to close, Oliver suddenly perks up at the sight of his employer.
"Oh, hey Mr.Dickens!” Oliver calls out to him while removing his earbud. Mr.Dickens turns around and tries to grasp the chipper attitude he always tries to keep up.
“Ah, greetings lad! Has your shift treated you well?” He asks politely while adjusting his bag
“It’s been pretty groovy!”
There's a sudden change in his demeanor.
“Though Billy- that DEMON, came in again today.” Oliver rubs the side of his phone casing. “He was covered in swan feathers, and when questioned he mentioned he SOMEHOW assembled the swans into some sort of mini army to harass the swan wrangler.”
Oliver groans worriedly.
“I may or may not have to check up on Randy after my shift.”
Mr.Dickens sighs and shakes his head. “Oh dear,” Mr.Dickens takes note of Oliver’s expression and decides to make an offer to him.
“How about you clock out and go check up on that friend of yours lad? I’ll tidy up myself.”
Oliver perked up at this.
"A-are you sure? I mean, I can totally stay if you need me to!"
Mr.Dickens shakes his head again and waves his hand.
"Yes it's quite alright, go check up on your friend son." Mr.Dickens reassures him. Oliver practically hops over the counter and runs up to him, hugging him. Mr.Dickens was so surprised his bowler hat almost flew off his head!
"Gnarly!! thank you so much, you're a lifesaver!" Oliver lets go of him and heads out the door while calling out, "I'll come in extra early to help out tomorrow!"
Mr.Dickens chuckles to himself and locks the door. He checks behind the counter, the lobby, and the theater for anything to clean, but it seems Oliver already took care of that. He hums to himself and carries on to lock the other doors, then finally heading out. Unfortunately, it's raining on the one day he didn't take an umbrella.
"Bloody rain..." Mr.Dickens grumbles to himself. Usually, he'd be fine with the rain, he liked it actually! But it's a cold night and there's a lack of an umbrella. He stared down at the floor as he walked home.
How much longer could he keep up the optimism? the bills are practically flooding his desk and there isn't a single film in their queue. Oliver took it upon himself to develop a film for the cinema, which relieved Mr.Dickens knowing that there was at least something that could help bring back the spark of the cinema.
Oliver. He feels terrible that such a young man has to go through this just to help save a cinema. Mr.Dickens would have said he didn't understand why he stays, but he does. He knows how it feels to be a young man with a dream, an undying passion that leaves no room for rest until it's fulfilled. Oliver reminded him much of how he was as a young lad; an aspiring filmmaker willing to do whatever it took to achieve such a goal. He wants to show Oliver that all of the struggle is worth it and that what he wants can actually come true.
He can't even do that. All he's doing is showing what could happen if things go south when he goes through with those dreams. A failed cinema, a failed aspiration, a failed man. He can't even pay the poor lad properly.
Mr.Dickens clutches his tie tightly and glances up at the starlit sky shimmering through the rain.
He hasn't got much time left, could he really change things for the better here? Could the cinema actually be saved? He glances down at the sidewalk and stares into his reflection in a puddle. This was his dream too. Tears brim his booth and he shakes his head, then proceeds home.
Norm was in the kitchen cooking dinner, following along one of Mr.Dickens’ recipes from his trusty cookbook. Steak and asparagus!
He hears a familiar click from the door and his head perks up from the meal prep. When Mr.Dickens didn’t come around the corner like usual, Norm clicked the grill to low and glanced into the hallway to find said man.
There was something different about Mr.Dickens today, Norm noticed. He was by the door idly.
Just staring at the floor.
He hadn’t even bothered to place his hat and coat onto the coat hanger like he usually does, and he was soaking wet!
“Dickens?” He tries to get Mr.Dickens’ attention but to no avail. Norm approaches him gently “Ebs? You alright?” he calls out to him again, this time getting his attention with the closer proximity. Mr.Dickens glances up at him, almost surprised as he is taken out of whatever he is thinking.
“Oh, yes I’m quite alright I’ve just been..caught up on some things I need to attend to.” Mr.Dickens shivers from the cold of the water finally catching his attention.
“Let’s getcha warm first.” Norm takes note of the condition his husband is in. “I’ll be right back, I’m grabbing ya’ some blankets.” Mr.Dickens groans at the uncomfortability of the wet clothes, and then it hits him. If his clothes got wet, then the paperwork in his bag likely did too. He hurriedly reaches into his back and finds that the paperwork is in a leak-proof compartment. Mr.Dickens sighs in relief, he should probably attend to that before anything else happens. Norm reappears with a blanket, a long sleeve, and some pajama pants.
“Got ya some new clothes since yours are kinda…” Norm clears his throat. He gestures toward Mr.Dickens’ coat.
“May I?”
Mr.Dickens glances down at his coat and removes it with his hat. Phone-God, was his head fogged today. Norm takes both items and then hangs them onto the coat hanger, then places the dry clothing in Mr.Dickens' hands.
"While ya change yer' clothes I'll finish up dinner hon."
"Thank you." Mr.Dickens sounded...weary to put it likely. Norm nods at him.
Norm heads back to their kitchen and finishes cooking the steak. One of them was a bit burnt. Mr.Dickens never liked his meat overly cooked and truthfully Norm didn't either, but he'll take that one anyway. He plates their food and waits for Mr.Dickens, leaning against the counter worriedly. Said man emerges from the hallway and sits on a barstool behind the kitchen island. Like earlier, he was staring directly at the counter. He looked soulless. Norm frowned and brought both of their plates to where Mr.Dickens was sitting. He sat next to him, the look on his husband’s face made his heart ache. Norm wasn’t sure what to say, so he put his arm around Mr.Dickens, who eventually leaned into his side.
“I’m going to lose the cinema.”
Mr.Dickens’ voice was hoarse, almost like it was hard to admit. Norm glanced at him surprised,
“What? I thought that film of Oliver’s would’ve helped?” Mr.Dickens stares down at the counter in front of them.
“The lad hasn’t finished it yet, I don’t think.” He groans and sits up, his elbows on the counter and his hands holding his head. “I feel as though I’m wrong for burdening him with it in the first place.”
“Come on Ebs, he’s into filming an’ such, wouldn’t it be like an opportunity fer’ him to do so?” Norm attempts to plead with him.
Mr.Dickens is quiet for a moment.
“I wish it didn’t have to come to these circumstances. I’d want for him to create for himself, not to save some…dump.”
Norm’s lips part to speak, but he remains quiet.
“I just don’t want him to fall down the same path I did.”
Norm’s expression softens
“Dickens, he-“ Norm pauses, “He looks up to you and adores the cinema n’ such, why do ya think he’s still there? I’m sure as hell he’s willing to do anything for the cinema. For you. Even if it means makin’ some film.”
Mr.Dickens relaxes back into Norm’s side and sighs into his shoulder.
“Even if the movie is successful, I don’t know how long it could keep us afloat.”
Norm hums in thought for a moment before he suddenly perks up.
“We could make another one ourselves,” Norm blurts out. “You know, so there's more than just one show on the screens.”
Mr.Dickens glances at him then stares down at the counter for a moment in thought. He seemed very calculated since the time Norm met him. Norm thought he was really intelligent, and he admired that.
“That’s… actually a plausible idea.” If they had two movies running around the same time, there would be more income depending on audience scores. “Righty then…we ought to think of a film idea soon.”
“What about somethin’ like action?” Norm suggests with a smirk. Mr.Dickens glances at him with a knowing smile and chuckles.
“You and I both know we’re too old for that.” Norm chuckles himself and shakes his head slightly.
Mr.Dickens glances at his husband and smiles softly. He always knew how to bring up the mood. How charming he was. An idea suddenly came to him and he thought for a moment.
“What about a romance?”
Norm glances over to him and shrugs, nodding.
“Sure, why the hell not?”
“Alrighty then!” Mr.Dickens reached into his pocket to grab his trusty notepad but realized it wasn't in there. It was in his wet jacket. Norm reaches into his shirt pocket and takes out said notepad, then offers it to him.
“Figured you’d want it.” Mr.Dickens ‘smiles’ slightly and accepts it.
“Thank you, Norman.” Norm nods at him as a ‘your welcome’.
Mr.Dickens quickly jots some notes down, then places the notepad off to the side. Norm glances at the counter and the food he prepared catches his attention. They haven’t exactly eaten it yet and it’s getting cold.
“Ah, we should probably eat this before it gets cold…” Norm suggests.
“Right, right.”
It’s quiet whilst they have dinner, not the bad kind of quiet. It’s a peaceful one, and they both liked it.
After their meal when they’re both cleaning up, Norm gently taps Mr. Dickens's shoulder, who is doing the dishes.
“Why don’t I take care of the rest of that fer ya’ so you can shower? I can't imagine the feelin’ of rain being comfortable.” Norm offers.
“Are you sure? There’s hardly enough left.”
Norm nods, “I’m sure as shootin’”
Mr.Dickens chuckles at the phrase and moves himself out of the way.
“Thank you, dear.” Mr.Dickens dries his hands, then leans up to ‘kiss’ Norm on the lips of his sticky note, then retreats to their bedroom.
Norm is just glad Mr.Dickens got to talk about it. He’s talked about his feelings like this before, but he immediately tried to cover it up with that cheery ‘persona’ he always put on. Mr.Dickens is observant, but so is Norm, so he caught onto the fake facade of happiness Mr.Dickens displayed quickly. The man was so passionate about that cinema, that he could tell it was shattering him with everything that went wrong with it.
Norm finishes the last couple of dishes and dries his hands, then heads to their bedroom as well. He hums some tune quietly to himself while he heads to the closet to grab a grey tank top and some pajama pants to sleep in. He yawns and stretches, then undresses from the clothes he was wearing into the sleepwear. Then, he heads over to their bed, removes the paper bag and hat, then practically flops over onto it. My GOD does Dickens know how to pick his mattresses, they were really soft! Or it may just be the fact Norm was used to the shitty mattress from the shack he slept in for phone-god knows how long.
A bit later, Mr.Dickens exits the bathroom with a towel on his booth and sits himself on the bed, he honestly looked exhausted. Norm opened his eyes and sat up to face him, then reached for the towel. The crevices on the top and sides of his booth made it hard to get water out of them, so Norm helped him dry those blind spots every night.
A majority into the process, Norm removes one of his hands to reposition, which causes Mr.Dickens’ head to slump forward a bit. Ah, he was falling asleep. Norm decides rather than waking him up to scoot to where his back was against the headboard, then leaned the dry side of Mr.Dickens’ head on his chest so as to not wake him up. He heard a soft exhale from Mr.Dickens and felt the man lean his full weight onto him. Yeah, he was asleep alright. Norm chuckles quietly and finishes up one last crevice, then folds the towel neatly to set on his nightstand. Gently, he moves the both of them into a lying down position, then rests his chin on the top of Mr.Dickens’ booth.
“Goodnight Ebs.”