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Buck, as a rule, typically has a pretty low opinion of people who are rude to waitstaff. Even as an immature frat boy, he’s always been very self-aware of how he comes across as a customer, especially when he was hanging around people who weren’t quite as considerate. When a group of his college friends would come into a place, be loud and obnoxious and leave a mess, Buck always made sure to apologize profusely for them and leave a generous tip.
This particular waitress, however, is testing his patience.
It’s not that she isn’t nice. In fact, she’s too nice, in Buck’s opinion. She’s been flirting with Eddie right in front of Buck’s face, completely oblivious to the fact that Buck and Eddie are on a date.
At first, Buck tried to convince himself it was all in his head. She was overly friendly to the both of them from the jump, and Buck figured it was just her way of earning extra tips. But then she’d called Eddie hon, and laughed a little too loudly at some corny joke Eddie had made about appetizers, and finally, terribly, when she’d brought their drinks, she’d touched Eddie’s arm. That was the point that Buck started seeing red. Now, he’s practically vibrating with rage every time she walks by their table.
It’s not like Eddie’s flirting back, Buck tries to reassure himself. He’s seemingly remained completely oblivious, all eyes on Buck. Buck feels drunk on both Eddie’s attention and the shot of DayQuil he’d downed earlier. He might be coming down with a bit of a cold, but he wasn’t about to let that ruin their date night. Little did he know that someone else was intent on doing that for them.
The waitress comes back, all toothy smiles and Southern charm. “Y’all leave room for dessert?”
“No, I think we’ve had enough,” Buck says shortly, leveling her with the iciest glare he can muster.
Eddie laughs awkwardly, shooting Buck a glare of his own. “We’ll take the check, please.”
The waitress nods, unphased by Buck’s chilliness, still grinning warmly at Eddie. “Sure thing, babe.”
Babe. Hon was bad enough, but babe? Oh, if Buck was a cartoon character, he’s positive he’d have steam coming out of his ears.
“Buck,” Eddie chastises as soon as she walks away. “What gives, man? Why are you being such a dick to the waitress?”
Buck prickles with annoyance at Eddie calling him man, something he normally wouldn’t mind. Why is he getting called man while the waitress gets to call Eddie babe. It’s not fair. He’s the boyfriend. “Oh sure, take her side,” he says petulantly.
“Buck,” Eddie groans, clearly growing impatient.
“Don’t act like I haven’t noticed you two flirting all night!” Buck accuses, which he knows isn’t fair. Eddie has been nothing but cordial and appropriate all night. Buck is being crazy and he knows it, so sue him.
“I’m flirting with the waitress? You know that’s ridiculous.”
Buck pouts. “Well she’s definitely been flirting with you!”
“You’re being paranoid. She’s just a little…friendly. You heard the accent, it’s a cultural thing.”
Oh, Buck had heard the accent, alright. The waitress had been quick to bond with Eddie about the fact that they were both from Texas. Just another thing they have in common that Buck could never relate to because he’s from stupid Pennsylvania. They can run off to Texas and get married, for all Buck cares.
The thing is, it kind of pisses him off that the waitress doesn’t realize they’re on a date. It might piss him off even more than the flirting with Eddie does. Because while Eddie has been nothing but civil to the waitress, he hasn’t exactly been all over Buck either. Sure, they’re in public, and sure, the relationship is still in those early stages where they don’t know where they stand on PDA yet, and sure, their ankles have been linked underneath the table this whole time, but it’s not enough. Buck can’t help but want to be touching every part of Eddie all the time. The more the waitress smiles at Eddie, the more Buck wants to shove his tongue down Eddie’s throat in front of her. Which probably isn’t such a good idea if he’s catching a cold. Buck swipes at the underside of his nose to keep it from running, then coughs discreetly into his fist.
Eddie frowns. “You keep doing that. Are you getting sick?” Something seems to click into place, and Eddie says, “That’s why you’re all grumpy.”
“I’m not grumpy. And I’m not getting sick. Shut up.”
Eddie softens, still impossibly sweet in the face of Buck’s obstinance. “Buck, you could’ve told me.”
“I’m fine,” Buck grumbles, then quietly says, “But you don’t have to kiss me tonight if you don’t want to.”
“I always want to kiss you,” Eddie says, strikingly honest in a way that makes Buck feel like a terrible person for acting like such a brat.
The waitress, of course, chooses that exact moment to interrupt them, because why wouldn’t she? She’s made it her personal mission to ruin Buck’s night, after all.
“Here’s the check. You have a nice night,” she says, looking directly at Eddie, and it doesn’t escape Buck’s notice that she says you instead of y’all. In case there was any doubt as to who she was wishing a nice night.
Buck sniffles to keep his nose from running, and it does nothing but exacerbate the itch deep in his sinuses. He sniffles again, trying to clear it, and that just makes it worse.
The waitress slides Eddie a napkin with what Buck presumes is her phone number on it and winks at him, and that, he decides, is the last straw.
His nose happens to agree.
Buck’s breath hitches, and in a lucid moment of defiance before he’s lost to the tickle, he snatches up the napkin with the phone number on it, and presses it to his nose.
“Hah-ah–AH’SHUUU!” he practically shouts, soaking the napkin with a wet, productive sneeze, and he’ll be lucky if he stops at just the one. His other hand blindly fumbles for the napkin dispenser, and Eddie hurriedly presses a handful into his outstretched fingers as another sneeze overtakes him. “EH’SHIIEW!” He presses the bundle of additional napkins to his nose, blowing heartily before exploding with a third sneeze. “AHR’GZZHUU!”
“Oh my,” the waitress says, eyes widening as Buck gives another forceful, frustrated blow. “Bless you. Coming down with a cold?”
Buck sniffs, and glares at her over the napkins. “I don’t think your perfume agrees with my nose.” A blatant lie. It’s not like Buck could even smell her perfume if she was wearing any, with how stuffed up he is.
Eddie looks somewhere between mortified and amused. Probably leaning closer to amused. He scooches closer to Buck and makes a show of draping his arm around Buck’s shoulder. “Oh, babe,” he coos. “We need to get you home and in bed.” He looks at the waitress and very pointedly says, “You’ll have to excuse my boyfriend. He’s not feeling well.”
“Oh!” the waitress exclaims, glancing between Buck and Eddie, suddenly understanding. “Oh,” she repeats, her face turning beet-red, to Buck’s satisfaction. She mutters an apology and scurries off.
Eddie pays and leaves a generous enough tip to make up for Buck’s antics, but not so generous that she gets the wrong idea.