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tailcoatwizardryTitle: Leave A Good Tip
Chapter: 1/?
Rating: PG-13
Tagged: [Restaurantstuck] Trolls on Earth, social inequality, cursing
Words: 2,724
Series: Homestuck
Pairings/Characters: John♥Eridan (eventually)
Crossposted: [AO3] [Tumblr]
"W'well I w'would if I w'was fuckin' invited, you know."
Out of the corner of his eye, John could see that he'd made a mistake. Eridan had his arms crossed, a sneer ripped along his face, and John could have sworn he saw the fins along Eridan's jawline twitch. He sighed and opened his ticket book on the counter. "You always take off as fast as you can, dude, we aren't goddamn fun-ninjas."
The scoff to his right indicated that, again, he wasn't doing his best in people interaction. He didn't really give a fuck at the moment, though, he was just clearing shit up before it got taken the wrong way. He was starting to regret joke-berating Eridan for not hanging out with the rest of the servers, the joke sort of being that Eridan was the DJ and not a waiter and fuck it his prankster gambit wasn't at full force and now he's left himself with a pouty troll to deal with while he rings his last table's payment up. It was usually bad enough having Karkat watch him when there were no tables to pick up, but Eridan was a different story altogether; John found himself distracted by a guy he wasn't even looking at to the point that he was wondering where the cash went when the customer's credit card was in his hand.
John swiped the card, and upon realizing it was facing the wrong way swiped it again. "We're all going over to that new bar down Fifth Street once they let us off, do you want to come?" he asked without looking up from the computer screen, his fingers tapping across the touch screen buttons, in attempt to appease Eridan.
When he finished leafing through receipts and adjusting tips to his previous sales of the day, Eridan still hadn't responded to him. He stuffed his book into his apron, stared up at him and furrowed his brow at the wire of Eridan's earbuds lodged between his teeth. Apparently the generic Apple-brand product had become his replacement scarf, ready at the neck to be gnawed on at the very hint of nervousness. John tried to smile to make him relax, but watching him chew the wire was disconcerting; Dave may as well have installed music equipment care into John's brain harddrive at this point in the years upon years of knowing him and Eridan's nibbling unsettled him.
"Uh...dude? I know you probably have a thousand of those things, but do you really need to try eating that? Can't be good for your teeth or the cord."
Eridan, with the rest of the wire wrapped around his finger and between his rings, glanced away before picking the buds out of his mouth. Had the lights inside not have been dimmed earlier in the night, John would have transfixed his eyes to the bite marks in the white rubber-y material, or even on the flush to Eridan's face. John drew his mouth into a line; this was turning into a relatively dramatic moment over an invitation to get drunk at a bar. He knew Eridan to be a man of drama, it was partially what made him a good DJ to watch--not listen to, never listen to, he was grade-A horrible at his job--but he was starting to understand the tired exasperation everyone else had for him. He would switch from one attitude to another at the drop of a hat and at this point John wasn't sure if it was all on purpose or if that was just the way this seatroll was. He had to give him points for managing to be almost infuriating while not saying a damn thing.
John shrugged and left to return the receipt and card to his table. In the time he chatted with them and took their remaining plates back to the kitchen, Eridan had settled himself against the computer counter, arms crossed and eyes cast down at his polished, pointy-toed shoes. It was slightly unusual behavior for him; he'd only hang around the area if Feferi was working, since he always accompanied her on her bus route back to her government-assigned home even though the busses were stupidly segregated between humans and trolls. Trolls weren't allowed to own cars, not yet, and it was only in the past decade they were allowed to hold generic jobs. Due to a mix of hate for the social injustice and the blood caste system some trolls held to and discriminated against each other for anyway, Eridan felt it entirely necessary to watch over his fellow seadweller whenever he could; John always asked when they were going to get married, and would simply receive quirked brows in response.
Tonight, Eridan was the lone seatroll, and he was all up in John's lazy leaning area. John tried to linger in the kitchen and took his time stuffing stray cloth napkins back into the massive hamper, but he really couldn't avoid returning to the computer counters since he still needed to clock out. He ran a hand through his hair as he returned, and cleared his throat. "So? Are you going to come along or not?"
"You feel bad for me, don't you?"
Quipped, sudden response as always. Eridan stared at him, the yellow of his eyes seeming to glow in the crawling darkness. It was an expectant stare, the kind John was pretty damn used to by now. The words, too, and they shot him in the gut with memories of him trying to be the big damn hero to people who didn't goddamn want it and...god, junior high, never again. He didn't understand what Eridan was getting at, not with the hopeful tone to his voice, so he defaulted to his best and worst quality: jerkface honesty. "Well yeah. You're pathetic, dude," he said, and gave not a single fuck.
He hadn't expected a smile in return for something he'd usually get hit or harped on for. Admittedly, he was a little creeped out, but getting Eridan to smile was just about as fucking tiring as...no, no wait, nothing was as fucking tiring as getting Eridan to smile. The accomplishment sunk in more than any and all other implications, so John smiled back without missing a beat. Man, he should employ his jerkface honesty more often if it got guys like Eridan Ampora to chill out and smile like that.
Eridan shifted off the counter and let his arms drop to his sides. "Alright. An' you're shore none'a them are goin' to pitch a fuckin' fit?"
John frowned. "I never said that. As long as you don't hit on literally everyone at the bar or whatever you're known for, I don't think they'll care after a few rounds. Half a margarita if we're looking at Jade. Just be on your best behavior and don't throw up anywhere that's not a toilet," he rambled, since there weren't many "rules" to begin with, he just wanted to give the poor guy some protips on how not to be annoying without outright saying it just yet. Eridan, as expected, scoffed, but he didn't seem to mind one single damn fishbit.
"So w'we're goin' now?" he asked, tapping his foot. John glared down at it, then rolled his eyes. The night would be long, and John started to realize that with a small grimace.
"Dude, I still have to tip out and shit," he retorted, "calm your tits." He snatched his book and stalked toward an empty table far away from the loitering customers before Eridan could snap back at him. His chair screeched against the floor when he yanked it from the table, making him wince and lower himself into the seat with more tentativeness than he'd like. It wasn't long until he was joined by Eridan, seated across from him and watching as he filtered through receipts and stray cash. He was quiet--shocker--and John appreciated it until it became weird to not be talking when there was someone to talk to.
Eridan might have noticed the awkward tension John had been giving off, or he may have just felt like talking, but either way John was grateful when he cleared his throat. "So w'what's so fuckin' great about that bar? Just because it's new doesn't mean it's goin' to be any good." He was looking at his fingernails more than he was sparing John any glances, and that was fine, honestly. John shrugged.
"Oh, nothing much," he trailed on, scribbling increasing tip amounts on the upper corners of each receipt, "they're just going to let you guys walk in through the front door instead of having to sneak you in through the back. No big deal."
John felt the stillness settle in, a quiet that was wrought with more words than could be said. He finished adding up the credit tips, counted the pathetic stack of bills, and scribbled the sum on his hand. Eridan still hadn't said a word, and John doubted he'd even moved by the time he'd already gone to his boss to take out a percentage for the host, collected his tips, and returned to clock out. He lingered behind him, unsure if he should say something, but he could leave that issue for after he was finally officially off the clock.
Hoodie under his arm, he stopped at the table, leaning against it on his hip. Eridan wouldn't look at him, and John didn't feel like it was a personal issue. He flopped his folded apron on the table and unbundled his hoodie.
"Dude, Russia Oklahoma?"
Eridan seemed to snap out of his state of...something, and looked up at John, confused. Jeez, it was like the guy didn't even notice he'd been gone. "Excuse me?"
John grinned and pulled his bright-fucking-blue hoodie on over his head. "Russia Oklahoma! It's like," he paused to smooth out the hoodie, "on the internet how people type "r u ok," but with the letters instead of the words?" Apparently Eridan didn't get it, and John rolled his eyes. "Well, it looks like RU and OK, so...Russia Oklahoma!"
Flat faces and unamused stares were things John was used to at this point in response to his jokes. Yeah, okay, he wasn't comedic genius or anything yet, but he had something! Eridan probably didn't even know the abbreviations, John hardly did.
"Ugh, forget it, it's something Dave told me a while back and I thought it was hilarious," John grumbled. Eridan gave him one of those looks, the ones that were more condescending than they really needed to be at all, and John considered his newfound regret over bringing fishface along. "Whatever. It got you to stop zoning out. C'mon, I think a few of them are already there." He knew Rose was, and she'd been sending him texts and Pesterchum messages inquiring a TOA from him. John could tell she wasn't always the one sending them, because even when tipsy she used all her English major trimmings with sprinkles of snark (in good fun, of course), and John was very sure she had never used that animeface emoticon before. Just saying.
Eridan rose from his seat and tucked the chair back under the table, then walked around the corner toward the office. John groaned; he'd been sure Eridan was ready to go and get out of there just like he was. He bounced on the balls of his feet, hands sunk into his hoodie pockets, and was starting to doubt he'd ever understand Eridan. When he came back, John made a face at his choice of thick, fairly large scarf that was wrapped snug around his neck and loomed over his chin and jawline.
"Um...it's not that cold outside?" he asked more than stated. Eridan lifted the scarf as high up as it would cover around his facial fins.
"They may be okay w'with trolls, but there's no w'way they're goin' to be as kind w'with me. I'd rather not start a fuckin' fight before I get in the door."
John shrugged it off, not really understanding what he meant, and led them off out of the restaurant and down the streets of downtown. Eridan tread close, and tried not to stray ahead of him. He certainly wanted to be ahead, lead the way as trolls like him were wont to do, but he had no idea where they were going. The reigns were left in John's care, and Eridan didn't like it. Conversation was minimal, as John seemed to be in a hurry and Eridan had nothing to say. They'd banter, maybe, about whether they should cross the road or not when the hand was lit, and when it came to John being unable to understand Eridan past his scarf, they finally got something to share words over.
"Okay, I get that you are like Mr. Scarves and Glubs, but I seriously cannot understand you if you're just mumbling into that big thing," John complained and reached over to tug it down. Eridan snapped his teeth at his fingers.
"Look, I may be fuckin' royalty but it's not like everyone likes us, got it? Land dwellers don't appreciate aquatic mutations bein' their rightful rulers, an' that's w'why they're goin' to all die one'a these days," he snarled. "An' here, on this filthy stupid planet, they like to think that the rules don't apply anymore. Just because w'we're here now doesn't fuckin' mean the caste gets to be thrown out, but that ain't stoppin' them from actin' like it."
John furrowed his brow. "Okay, wow, way to lay on the jerkface, much? So what if you're a seatroll royal dick or whatever, what's got you all defensive?"
Eridan bit the scarf, and looped his arm with John's to drag him across the street. They'd been waiting too long for the lights to light up in a human and he wasn't having any of that shit. John tried to dislodge himself, but Eridan held on tight and slowed their pace forcefully.
"The fact'a the matter is: they're are a hell'a lot more'a them than me. Sea dwellers aren't exactly the fuckin' majority, dipshit, an' numbers can easily make the difference."
There was a moment of silence, John taking it to let Eridan's biting words sink in. He forgot about his plight to remove himself from Eridan, and instead stared down at his feet as they walked. He didn't understand why any of that should matter, always found the idea of oppressive castes to be, well, oppressive and stupid, but that always seemed more like something from movies than something he could ever be in contact with.
John looked up and could see the bar across the next crosswalk. "I'm...sorry. That really sucks. I mean you definitely deserve a punch in the face or two, but that really sucks that you have to worry about getting beat up just because you're a freak with fins."
Eridan groaned, but if that was all John was going to offer, he'd take it. "Thanks for the...pity, I guess." He sunk into his scarf, the violet flush in his face going unnoticed in the mix of glows from neon lights and the surrounding darkness of the night. He glanced at John expectantly, but that, too, went right under the John Awareness Radar.
"Also, maybe if you stopped treating everyone like peasants they'd like you more. Feferi is friends with pretty much everyone, and she can be mean sometimes. Just saying."
John unlooped his arm from Eridan's, and while he didn't miss the growl from Eridan, he completely ignored it and gestured to the multi-colored collection of signs in the windows they were passing. "Here we are! Remember the rules, and," he paused, quirking his mouth to the side, "and...if anyone tries to give you trouble for anything except being the total douchebag I know you can be, just let me know or something, okay?" He tapped Eridan's chest with the back of his hand in confirmation. Eridan grumbled something, then nodded and followed John inside.
Chapter: 1/?
Rating: PG-13
Tagged: [Restaurantstuck] Trolls on Earth, social inequality, cursing
Words: 2,724
Series: Homestuck
Pairings/Characters: John♥Eridan (eventually)
Crossposted: [AO3] [Tumblr]
"W'well I w'would if I w'was fuckin' invited, you know."
Out of the corner of his eye, John could see that he'd made a mistake. Eridan had his arms crossed, a sneer ripped along his face, and John could have sworn he saw the fins along Eridan's jawline twitch. He sighed and opened his ticket book on the counter. "You always take off as fast as you can, dude, we aren't goddamn fun-ninjas."
The scoff to his right indicated that, again, he wasn't doing his best in people interaction. He didn't really give a fuck at the moment, though, he was just clearing shit up before it got taken the wrong way. He was starting to regret joke-berating Eridan for not hanging out with the rest of the servers, the joke sort of being that Eridan was the DJ and not a waiter and fuck it his prankster gambit wasn't at full force and now he's left himself with a pouty troll to deal with while he rings his last table's payment up. It was usually bad enough having Karkat watch him when there were no tables to pick up, but Eridan was a different story altogether; John found himself distracted by a guy he wasn't even looking at to the point that he was wondering where the cash went when the customer's credit card was in his hand.
John swiped the card, and upon realizing it was facing the wrong way swiped it again. "We're all going over to that new bar down Fifth Street once they let us off, do you want to come?" he asked without looking up from the computer screen, his fingers tapping across the touch screen buttons, in attempt to appease Eridan.
When he finished leafing through receipts and adjusting tips to his previous sales of the day, Eridan still hadn't responded to him. He stuffed his book into his apron, stared up at him and furrowed his brow at the wire of Eridan's earbuds lodged between his teeth. Apparently the generic Apple-brand product had become his replacement scarf, ready at the neck to be gnawed on at the very hint of nervousness. John tried to smile to make him relax, but watching him chew the wire was disconcerting; Dave may as well have installed music equipment care into John's brain harddrive at this point in the years upon years of knowing him and Eridan's nibbling unsettled him.
"Uh...dude? I know you probably have a thousand of those things, but do you really need to try eating that? Can't be good for your teeth or the cord."
Eridan, with the rest of the wire wrapped around his finger and between his rings, glanced away before picking the buds out of his mouth. Had the lights inside not have been dimmed earlier in the night, John would have transfixed his eyes to the bite marks in the white rubber-y material, or even on the flush to Eridan's face. John drew his mouth into a line; this was turning into a relatively dramatic moment over an invitation to get drunk at a bar. He knew Eridan to be a man of drama, it was partially what made him a good DJ to watch--not listen to, never listen to, he was grade-A horrible at his job--but he was starting to understand the tired exasperation everyone else had for him. He would switch from one attitude to another at the drop of a hat and at this point John wasn't sure if it was all on purpose or if that was just the way this seatroll was. He had to give him points for managing to be almost infuriating while not saying a damn thing.
John shrugged and left to return the receipt and card to his table. In the time he chatted with them and took their remaining plates back to the kitchen, Eridan had settled himself against the computer counter, arms crossed and eyes cast down at his polished, pointy-toed shoes. It was slightly unusual behavior for him; he'd only hang around the area if Feferi was working, since he always accompanied her on her bus route back to her government-assigned home even though the busses were stupidly segregated between humans and trolls. Trolls weren't allowed to own cars, not yet, and it was only in the past decade they were allowed to hold generic jobs. Due to a mix of hate for the social injustice and the blood caste system some trolls held to and discriminated against each other for anyway, Eridan felt it entirely necessary to watch over his fellow seadweller whenever he could; John always asked when they were going to get married, and would simply receive quirked brows in response.
Tonight, Eridan was the lone seatroll, and he was all up in John's lazy leaning area. John tried to linger in the kitchen and took his time stuffing stray cloth napkins back into the massive hamper, but he really couldn't avoid returning to the computer counters since he still needed to clock out. He ran a hand through his hair as he returned, and cleared his throat. "So? Are you going to come along or not?"
"You feel bad for me, don't you?"
Quipped, sudden response as always. Eridan stared at him, the yellow of his eyes seeming to glow in the crawling darkness. It was an expectant stare, the kind John was pretty damn used to by now. The words, too, and they shot him in the gut with memories of him trying to be the big damn hero to people who didn't goddamn want it and...god, junior high, never again. He didn't understand what Eridan was getting at, not with the hopeful tone to his voice, so he defaulted to his best and worst quality: jerkface honesty. "Well yeah. You're pathetic, dude," he said, and gave not a single fuck.
He hadn't expected a smile in return for something he'd usually get hit or harped on for. Admittedly, he was a little creeped out, but getting Eridan to smile was just about as fucking tiring as...no, no wait, nothing was as fucking tiring as getting Eridan to smile. The accomplishment sunk in more than any and all other implications, so John smiled back without missing a beat. Man, he should employ his jerkface honesty more often if it got guys like Eridan Ampora to chill out and smile like that.
Eridan shifted off the counter and let his arms drop to his sides. "Alright. An' you're shore none'a them are goin' to pitch a fuckin' fit?"
John frowned. "I never said that. As long as you don't hit on literally everyone at the bar or whatever you're known for, I don't think they'll care after a few rounds. Half a margarita if we're looking at Jade. Just be on your best behavior and don't throw up anywhere that's not a toilet," he rambled, since there weren't many "rules" to begin with, he just wanted to give the poor guy some protips on how not to be annoying without outright saying it just yet. Eridan, as expected, scoffed, but he didn't seem to mind one single damn fishbit.
"So w'we're goin' now?" he asked, tapping his foot. John glared down at it, then rolled his eyes. The night would be long, and John started to realize that with a small grimace.
"Dude, I still have to tip out and shit," he retorted, "calm your tits." He snatched his book and stalked toward an empty table far away from the loitering customers before Eridan could snap back at him. His chair screeched against the floor when he yanked it from the table, making him wince and lower himself into the seat with more tentativeness than he'd like. It wasn't long until he was joined by Eridan, seated across from him and watching as he filtered through receipts and stray cash. He was quiet--shocker--and John appreciated it until it became weird to not be talking when there was someone to talk to.
Eridan might have noticed the awkward tension John had been giving off, or he may have just felt like talking, but either way John was grateful when he cleared his throat. "So w'what's so fuckin' great about that bar? Just because it's new doesn't mean it's goin' to be any good." He was looking at his fingernails more than he was sparing John any glances, and that was fine, honestly. John shrugged.
"Oh, nothing much," he trailed on, scribbling increasing tip amounts on the upper corners of each receipt, "they're just going to let you guys walk in through the front door instead of having to sneak you in through the back. No big deal."
John felt the stillness settle in, a quiet that was wrought with more words than could be said. He finished adding up the credit tips, counted the pathetic stack of bills, and scribbled the sum on his hand. Eridan still hadn't said a word, and John doubted he'd even moved by the time he'd already gone to his boss to take out a percentage for the host, collected his tips, and returned to clock out. He lingered behind him, unsure if he should say something, but he could leave that issue for after he was finally officially off the clock.
Hoodie under his arm, he stopped at the table, leaning against it on his hip. Eridan wouldn't look at him, and John didn't feel like it was a personal issue. He flopped his folded apron on the table and unbundled his hoodie.
"Dude, Russia Oklahoma?"
Eridan seemed to snap out of his state of...something, and looked up at John, confused. Jeez, it was like the guy didn't even notice he'd been gone. "Excuse me?"
John grinned and pulled his bright-fucking-blue hoodie on over his head. "Russia Oklahoma! It's like," he paused to smooth out the hoodie, "on the internet how people type "r u ok," but with the letters instead of the words?" Apparently Eridan didn't get it, and John rolled his eyes. "Well, it looks like RU and OK, so...Russia Oklahoma!"
Flat faces and unamused stares were things John was used to at this point in response to his jokes. Yeah, okay, he wasn't comedic genius or anything yet, but he had something! Eridan probably didn't even know the abbreviations, John hardly did.
"Ugh, forget it, it's something Dave told me a while back and I thought it was hilarious," John grumbled. Eridan gave him one of those looks, the ones that were more condescending than they really needed to be at all, and John considered his newfound regret over bringing fishface along. "Whatever. It got you to stop zoning out. C'mon, I think a few of them are already there." He knew Rose was, and she'd been sending him texts and Pesterchum messages inquiring a TOA from him. John could tell she wasn't always the one sending them, because even when tipsy she used all her English major trimmings with sprinkles of snark (in good fun, of course), and John was very sure she had never used that animeface emoticon before. Just saying.
Eridan rose from his seat and tucked the chair back under the table, then walked around the corner toward the office. John groaned; he'd been sure Eridan was ready to go and get out of there just like he was. He bounced on the balls of his feet, hands sunk into his hoodie pockets, and was starting to doubt he'd ever understand Eridan. When he came back, John made a face at his choice of thick, fairly large scarf that was wrapped snug around his neck and loomed over his chin and jawline.
"Um...it's not that cold outside?" he asked more than stated. Eridan lifted the scarf as high up as it would cover around his facial fins.
"They may be okay w'with trolls, but there's no w'way they're goin' to be as kind w'with me. I'd rather not start a fuckin' fight before I get in the door."
John shrugged it off, not really understanding what he meant, and led them off out of the restaurant and down the streets of downtown. Eridan tread close, and tried not to stray ahead of him. He certainly wanted to be ahead, lead the way as trolls like him were wont to do, but he had no idea where they were going. The reigns were left in John's care, and Eridan didn't like it. Conversation was minimal, as John seemed to be in a hurry and Eridan had nothing to say. They'd banter, maybe, about whether they should cross the road or not when the hand was lit, and when it came to John being unable to understand Eridan past his scarf, they finally got something to share words over.
"Okay, I get that you are like Mr. Scarves and Glubs, but I seriously cannot understand you if you're just mumbling into that big thing," John complained and reached over to tug it down. Eridan snapped his teeth at his fingers.
"Look, I may be fuckin' royalty but it's not like everyone likes us, got it? Land dwellers don't appreciate aquatic mutations bein' their rightful rulers, an' that's w'why they're goin' to all die one'a these days," he snarled. "An' here, on this filthy stupid planet, they like to think that the rules don't apply anymore. Just because w'we're here now doesn't fuckin' mean the caste gets to be thrown out, but that ain't stoppin' them from actin' like it."
John furrowed his brow. "Okay, wow, way to lay on the jerkface, much? So what if you're a seatroll royal dick or whatever, what's got you all defensive?"
Eridan bit the scarf, and looped his arm with John's to drag him across the street. They'd been waiting too long for the lights to light up in a human and he wasn't having any of that shit. John tried to dislodge himself, but Eridan held on tight and slowed their pace forcefully.
"The fact'a the matter is: they're are a hell'a lot more'a them than me. Sea dwellers aren't exactly the fuckin' majority, dipshit, an' numbers can easily make the difference."
There was a moment of silence, John taking it to let Eridan's biting words sink in. He forgot about his plight to remove himself from Eridan, and instead stared down at his feet as they walked. He didn't understand why any of that should matter, always found the idea of oppressive castes to be, well, oppressive and stupid, but that always seemed more like something from movies than something he could ever be in contact with.
John looked up and could see the bar across the next crosswalk. "I'm...sorry. That really sucks. I mean you definitely deserve a punch in the face or two, but that really sucks that you have to worry about getting beat up just because you're a freak with fins."
Eridan groaned, but if that was all John was going to offer, he'd take it. "Thanks for the...pity, I guess." He sunk into his scarf, the violet flush in his face going unnoticed in the mix of glows from neon lights and the surrounding darkness of the night. He glanced at John expectantly, but that, too, went right under the John Awareness Radar.
"Also, maybe if you stopped treating everyone like peasants they'd like you more. Feferi is friends with pretty much everyone, and she can be mean sometimes. Just saying."
John unlooped his arm from Eridan's, and while he didn't miss the growl from Eridan, he completely ignored it and gestured to the multi-colored collection of signs in the windows they were passing. "Here we are! Remember the rules, and," he paused, quirking his mouth to the side, "and...if anyone tries to give you trouble for anything except being the total douchebag I know you can be, just let me know or something, okay?" He tapped Eridan's chest with the back of his hand in confirmation. Eridan grumbled something, then nodded and followed John inside.