#Deimos and Victor could be such coworkers.

[gravedigest]

SCRAMBLES THROUGH BREAKS THROUGH

HEY SO YOU KNOW THAT ONE DS NONCANON DEIMOS DEATH? IF SOMEHOW VICTOR FOUND OUT (I’m not sure if he would, Dei doesn’t want to stress Victor out, directly asking for protection for him) WHAT WOULD HE DO?

If its not too spoilery anyways!

Aside from that I love the roommates idea so much, that’s big brain stuff there. And it’s very effective at the “so you know how Dei dies in the end? So let’s make his life and interactions nice for bigger impact :)” thing you’ve said before and OUGHHHH. It also stirs up terrible terrible curiosity in me, and single-handedly made me like Victor

OOOOOOOOH GOD I NEVER CONSIDERED IT.

I would go into an entire tangent but.

At the very least. Victor isn’t gone forever from the story, and his reaction would probably be very, very, very strong.

God I love him so much. I have plans. Evil little plans.

His character in MPN has just enough little morsels to play around with in Incredibly Fun Ways.

My little burger boy. <3

I would absolutely do a followup to that once I get my horrible little machinations out, because it’d be fun.

Intricacies aside,

Concept of seeing a weird chunk of machinery on some guys desk. You have no idea why it looks familiar, you’re just talking to your landlord but you can’t stop looking at it.

What do you do when it clicks that you’re looking at the back of your friend’s head?

[gravedigest]

More DS drabble.

“No offense, Vic, but why are you putting up with it?”

His coworker has a hip leaning against the counter, the lull after lunch rush giving them all a moment to breathe. Victor logs himself out of the register, digging his phone from his back pocket as he slips to the back of the kitchen.

His coworker follows.

“He helps with the chores.”

“He’s not helping with the chores now,” they quirk their head towards the dining room, where Deimos is curled up in a booth. The way he’s zoned out suggests he’s probably working on something, the bored tilt of his head says it’s probably actual work. “Isn’t he freeloading?”

“No. No, he helps.”

“Helps what?”

“Is that actually any of your business?”

“Oh. Ooooh, I see.” That singsong tone of voice.

“No.”

“Still, he’s kind of a wreck, Vic. You could do better.”

“Can you not?”

He’s not in the mood for this.

Everyone trying to pry, dig in at his life. He’s not going to talk about it.

“I’m taking my lunch.”

“Gonna bring food to your boyfr-“

“We’re just roommates. Go fill a bag of ice for me.”

Even with all the heckling, they still do that, at least. Deimos might not be particularly popular as a restaurant appliance, but there’s a general understanding amongst the workers.

They won’t just let him overheat.

So Victor collects his lunch from the back, orders up something for Deimos, and gets the bag of ice.

He’s still blanked out in his booth when Victor gets there, resting on the table, head pillowed in his crossed arms. It makes it easy to get the ice spread over the back of his neck, stirring him just enough that he starts blinking and backing out of his rig.

“Got busy in here for a minute,” Deimos notes, stretching his arms over the table, then grinning up at him. “Lagged out the wifi.”

“Did it mess up whatever you’re doing?”

“Nah, music kept buffering, though. What’d ya get me?”

“Nuggets.”

“You are too sweet to me.”

He can see how hard it is for Deimos to get himself sat up, keeping the weight of his arms on the table, careful not to drop the ice by staying hunched over. Victor pops the box open for him, gets the top ripped off the sauce, the little fine motor things that can be a struggle when he’s lagging out.

And he is lagging out, there’s a slowness to how his eyes are tracking things, a sheen of sweat in his hairline. Little things Victor’s gotten good at noticing.

“Job’s gonna pay okay,” Deimos says it with his teeth halfway through a nugget, only realizing it was too hot halfway through the bite. “‘Lectricity should be good for the month. Or could go for the water, iunno. Your choice.”

“You get the electric, I’ll get water,” He doesn’t know how Deimos can eat the same things for weeks solid like he does, but it simplifies a lot of things.

He’s easy to please.

And he helps.

It’s not that complicated. He’s the easiest job Victor’s ever had.

Except for the parts that are hard.

When Victor checks on him again, nearing the end of his shift, Deimos hasn’t moved.

From across the restaurant, it looked like he was just back to work, face tucked into his arms and his hand around a soda cup.

He should’ve known better, made him take a break from his rig or moved him to the office when the boss had left for the day. Moved him to the walk-in. Had him walk around the dining room for a minute.

He’s crashing.

It takes two more people to help drag Deimos to the walk in, Deimos’ eyes stuck open wide, his limbs locked up in their curled positions, Victor’s shivering in the freezer with him as someone is cussing out corporate for the fact that no one can find a goddamn pen.

Sunglasses.

His sunglasses.

It takes a minute to pull the rubber off of the arm, to expose the narrow metal, but yeah- Yeah. That’s thin enough.

He tilts Deimos’ head down, finding that little pinhole from the diagrams he’d memorized, feeding the tip of the arm into the hole until he can feel the click-

Deimos jerks, immediately slamming his palms into his own eyes and coiling up. “Fuck, ow, shit, fuck- ow-“

“Hey- You’re gonna pop your eyeball-“

His hands drag up his face and into his hair, pressing hard at his skull as he collects himself from the hard cancellation of whatever process he was stuck in. “Shit, shit. What- Where?”

“Freezer?”

“… Overheated?”

… Sometimes, he wishes he could explain some things to Deimos.

He’s a little too deep for that, though.

It’s nicer to him if he just doesn’t know, anyway.

“… Yeah. Shift’s over. Wanna call Sanford?”

“… Yeah.”