Work Text:
The sticky-sweet scent of maple syrup hangs thick in the IHOP air, mingling with the metallic tang of overworked coffee machines. Jimmy's elbows stick to the plastic booth as he gestures wildly with a forkful of blueberry pancake, nearly smacking Nick Dean in the nose.
"See, if we modify the electromagnetic pulse generator to—"
"Save it for the lab, Einstein," Nick interrupts, stealing a strip of crispy bacon from Jimmy's plate without breaking eye contact with his own chocolate chip pancakes.
Their knees knock together under the table—accidentally? Betty Quasar doesn't think so, judging by the way she kicks Cindy Vortex under the table. Cindy rolls her eyes so hard her ponytail swings.
"If you two don't stop doing... whatever this is," she gestures vaguely at Jimmy and Nick's tangled legs, "I'm swapping your syrup bottles with hot sauce again."
Across the booth, Sheen demonstrates the correct way to stack twelve sausage links into a "meat Eiffel Tower" while Libby and Britney snap photos with her glittery pink phone. Carl, face dusted with powdered sugar, watches Libby's camera flash reflect in his glasses like tiny fireworks.
"Check it," Sheen announces as his sausage construction collapses.
The resulting syrup tsunami soaks Nick's sleeve. Jimmy reaches to help—hand lingering on Nick's wrist a second too long—Betty whispers "Called it" into Cindy's ear.