Work Text:
Money
Duncan sat in a park, cigarette in his mouth, as he avoided going back to his apartment. He stared at his bank account. It was the middle of October, and the only good thing was that the app showed him that he only had 69 cents to his name.
He couldn’t let Gwen know it got that low; they had shit to pay, and he didn’t want to be lectured by some relic mall goth. What could he do? He could take up extra shifts at the bar, but he had a gnawing feeling that the owner would find out that Duncan had sex with his girlfriend. Didn’t matter if he said he didn’t know, to be honest, Duncan wouldn’t believe him either. What was the likelihood that he’d get punched?
Duncan rubbed the bottom of his face. He needed money.
As if the universe answered him, his phone rang. Number One Bitch. He answered without hesitation.
“Courtney, I need some money.” He told her before she could say anything.
“Listen, Duncan, it’s not my fault that you spent the last of your pathetic account on a strip club.” Her reply was tired. Not sleep deprived, but the regular tiredness of everyday responsibility.
“How about every time I make you come, you give me fifty dollars.”
“I’ll give you ten to never say that shit again.” Her reply made him pause; he’d usually get a more angry talking to.
“So why are you calling me?” He asked, getting up from the bench.
He walked for a minute, waiting for her to reply. The more she didn’t say anything, the more it pissed him off. He should be charging her for wasting his time.
“I’m hanging up,” he warned her, but he waited.
“Is Gwen near you?”
“No. Are you pregnant?”
“If I was pregnant, why would I call Gwen?”
“She’s been joking about getting Trent pregnant, so I’d guess you’d be her weird science experiment.” His joke wasn’t appreciated. Gwen would have laughed; all Courtney did was sigh.
“Save that weird humor for Gwen. I am not in the mood.”
He let out a loud groan, his eyes now on his car. “Fine, god, just say what it is you want.”
“Can you come get me?”
“That’s it? You made me think it was something weird.” He told her as he got in his car. “Where are you?”
“The mall.”
“Okay, I’ll meet you at the food court.”
“No, not there.”
“Dude, I’m this close to just going to your place and stealing shit.” He told her, frustrated that she was being slightly cryptic.
“I’m at Victoria's Secret.”
“Are you trying to seduce me?” He felt his sleazy grin come to his face as he started his car.
“No.”
For fucks sake, did he just hear a muffled sniffle?
“Why are you crying at a Victoria Secret?” He asked, tired as he put her on speaker so he could drive.
Her voice echoed in the cupholder. “I’m not crying. Just hurry up.”
She hung up. Whatever. He turned up the volume as he turned left.
He walked inside the mall, and he had a feeling they were counting down the days until November 1st so they could set up for Christmas. He remembered that back when he was a teen. He guessed that was the whole reason he hated Christmas music. The generic slop constantly hit his ears for two months every year from the ages of 16 to 18. He should have just quit, but the stupid girl who worked at Abercrombie was hot, and where he stood behind his counter, he could see hers perfectly.
He got to the store, ignored the worker who tried to greet him, and made his way to the dressing rooms. Only one door was closed.
He gave it a knock. “It’s me.”
He didn’t know what he expected when she opened the door, but he didn’t think she would grab him by the shirt and jerk him inside.
“You need to go get me a new shirt.” She told him, pretending not to care that she was only in a bra. A very nice bra.
“What happened to your shirt?” He asked, his fingers going over the pink silk of the back.
She jerked her body away, glaring at him as she used her arms to cover her chest. She averted her gaze and looked at the crumbled white top that was by her tote bag. “I brought my drink in here, and I tripped and it spilled all over my blouse.”
“Are you 7?”
“Shut up, I know.”
He put his hand on his heart, and his back hit the wall as he dramatically breathed. “You just agreed with me. Am I dying? Courtney, I leave the rest of my money to Gwen.”
Courtney glared at him. She should really get a sense of humor.
“So funny, but I don’t think Gwen would like a nickel.”
“Joke's on you, I have 69 cents.”
She stared at him for a second and continued. “Just take my card and go to the nearest store that sell good blouses.”
“Just buy something from here.”
“I can’t do that, it will clash.” She told him, for a second, she got too comfortable and pointed to her black pencil skirt.
He wondered what his teenage self would think if he found out that him and the hot girl from Abercrombie would be close enough to have a conversation in a changing room. Back then, he’d either be fighting back his sweating palms and need to act like she didn’t smell nice, or he’d act like a complete jackass.
Now, he could stare at Courtney’s chest and have an adult conversation.
“Eyes up here!” Her hand went up and shoved his chin to look at her face.
He stared at her and looked around the room. “Just wear your coat.”
“I left it at my office.”
That made him look at her again.
“Man, this is all very convenient.” He raised a pierced brow and got in her personal space. “Are you sure you aren’t trying to seduce me?”
“Just go get me a new blouse.” She told him and walked over to the other side of the room.
“Here,” he took off his jacket. Before she could say anything, he tossed it at her. “Just wear that. In exchange, just give me the money that you would have spent on your blouse.”
“I thought I told you that I didn’t want it to clash.”
“You wasting money is starting to piss me off.” He said.
“Don’t get all pissy,” she rolled her eyes at him. He continued to stare, and she pointed to the wall. “Well, turn around.”
He did that, a grin on his face as he heard her body shift. “You could have told me to leave.”
She didn’t say anything. She must have realized the same thing.
“Someone’s getting too comfortable around me.” He teased, taking a glance at the mirror beside him. She zipped up his jacket. It was old, years of wear and tear, but it looked nice on her.
She folded her blouse and tried to shove it into her tote bag. It fit, but she glared at it for daring to look frumpy. She had the silky bra in her hand.
“I still need compensation.” He told her as he turned around.
She opened the door and walked out, talking to him as she walked. “I already told you that it isn’t my fault that you can’t handle your money.”
“I thought your Christ told you to give money to the impoverished.”
She just glared at him as the worker scanned the price tag. Her glare left as she gave the worker a polite smile, and she gave her a pink and white bag.
“Come on, just give me some money.” Duncan bugged her again when they left the store.
She sighed, and he grinned. He finally wore her out.
“How much do you need?” she asked.
“200.”
“Tell me exactly what it’s going to be used for.” She told him as they walked by the Abercrombie store.
He saw her look inside before she went back to staring ahead.
“Electric and food.” He said as he glanced at what used to be the video rental store. Now it was just some generic clothing brand.
He could almost see himself, cleaning the floor from some other teens who brought food inside and spilled it all over the carpet. He would look up from it and stare at Courtney as she put up the autumn seasonal sale sign.
The fleeting thoughts filled with nostalgia were gone when they got outside. The sun had set, leaving the parking lot dark, beside the glow of the light posts.
“This is a one-time thing, got it?” Courtney told him as she pulled out a chequebook.
“People still use those?” He teased her as she clicked her pen open.
She stopped and looked at him, “You know I can just have you go into the red, right?”
“Just send it through an app or something. I don’t want to go to the bank.”
“Oh yeah, because your life is so busy.” She rolled her eyes and put her chequebook back in her bag.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her as she brought out her phone. She couldn’t stop mumbling about having to send him such a large amount through Venmo. If he were some lovesick loser, he’d probably imagine that her wearing his clothes could be what could happen in the future if they dated. But he wasn’t like that. He was almost 30, damnit, not some teenager desperate for his crush to notice him.
His phone buzzed, and when he looked at it, he saw the little notification. The weight that he’d been ignoring for the past few days lifted.
“Thanks, very cool.” He breathed out the stress as he looked back at her.
“It’s not free, by the way.” She told him as she shifted her tote bag. “I need you to come look at my sink, there’s a leak, and the last time I called someone, I was robbed of thirty dollars.”
“What?” He gave her a look, annoyed that the money came with a hidden fee. “No way. It’s not my fault you can’t get a good handyman.”
“Duncan, I just gave you the money I could have used to hire someone.”
“Yeah, but now I feel like I’m being extorted and not in the fun sexy way.” He complained. But it only took him a second to come around to the idea. He put his arm around her shoulders. “Fine, but I’m working without a shirt on.”
“Do whatever you want, it’s not like I’ll be looking at you.”
They began to walk to Courtney’s car. Duncan could find his when she left. It wasn’t often that they hung out just the two of them, and he wanted to revel in it for a bit longer.