whiskey-tango-matcha · 2 years ago
Text
Long Day, Late Night (m)
Guys, idk what to say, clearly I’m going through a bit of a ~writing hyperfixation~ so please have this 2.5k mishmash I couldn’t get out of my mind even though I literally just posted a fic yesterday. 
This one is Greyson-centric, and takes place even earlier than the last one - like just a couple months after Greyson started at the restaurant (btw, the restaurant name is Elliot’s, which you find out in this story). It’s the first time Greyson is sick at work and Elijah is *oblivious*. I hope you like it, as always I’m not about to read it before I post it so you get what you get lmao. Also as always, I love and am obsessed with you all mwah mwah ok here’s the story gtg BYE
cw: male, cold, coughing
Long Day, Late Night
The only small mercy Greyson could think of was that this didn’t happen often.
In fact, Greyson couldn’t think of the last time he’d felt this shitty. It certainly hadn’t been in at least a year; definitely not since he’d started at Elliot’s. He cursed the unspoken chef rule of never calling out, never admitting defeat, and powering through everything; maybe he should’ve taken his mother’s advice and gone into accounting. Greyson seriously doubted that accountants prided themselves on going to work sick.
Greyson pushed through the back doors of the kitchen, squinting at the bright fluorescent lights against a killer headache. Silently, he said a prayer to the universe that today would be an easy day. They had a table of 15 that was supposed to occupy most of the evening – thank god, he found himself thinking. Maybe I can get out of here early.
“Chef,” Elijah greeted Greyson as the chef walked into the office and slammed down his backpack. The GM was fervently typing out a text message, a look of frustration obvious on his face. Greyson yanked off his sweatshirt and pulled his chef’s coat off the back of his chair before returning Elijah’s greeting.
“Boss,” he said, straining against a painfully sore throat. Elijah sighed, clicking his phone off and regarding the chef once again.
“We have a problem,” Elijah said, rubbing a hand down his face. Greyson froze in the midst of buttoning his coat; those were certainly words you didn’t ever want to hear from your boss in your relatively-new position.
“Problemb being…?” Greyson asked, cringing inwardly at the congestion he could already hear in his voice. Fortunately for him, Elijah either didn’t notice or ignored it.
“The fifteen top,” Elijah said, pulling up their reservations on the computer. Greyson peeked over his shoulder and widened his eyes when he saw it.
“Forty?” Greyson asked, incredulous. “Since when has it gone up to forty?”
Elijah sighed again, defeated, and turned back to the chef. “An hour ago they called and asked if they could up their reservation; the hostess answered.”
“The ndew girl? With half a brain and huge tits?”
Elijah snorted. “Yeah. That’s the one.”
“Fuck me, Boss. Tell mbe you called them back and said we can’t do it.”
Elijah winced. “That’s the thing, Chef. It wasn’t them who called; it was the concierge at their hotel. They’re out all day, won’t be back to the hotel until after dinner. So…”
“So we can’t change it,” Greyson groaned. “Fuck. I mean, I don’t know if I even ha – ahh...ahhHSTSHH-ue! NGTSHH-oo! Snrf.” Greyson covered his nose with one hand and snatched a tissue from his and Elijah’s shared desk with the other. He cleaned himself up and crumpled the tissue in his hand before finishing. “I don’t evend kndow if I have enough product.”
“Bless,” Elijah said, distracted. “I know. It’s fucked, and I’m sorry. If we have to change their menu, we can. I’m here for you, chef. I’ll even throw on an apron if you need.”
Greyson groaned once again; of course this would happen today, of all days. The day he woke up aching and congested and with his throat on fire. The one day in his almost-three-months at his new job where he wasn’t planning on working fifteen hours. Greyson bit his cheek against the frustration he felt building inside him and turned back to his boss.
“It’s ok,” he said, attempting a smile. He clapped a hand onto his boss’s shoulder and grabbed his knife bag. “We’ll mbake it work. Thanks for the offer, b – HNGSTH-ue! HRSHH! HFTSHH! Huhhh...Hhh...hnnn.” Greyson swore from the crook of his elbow, cursing that final stuck sneeze. He grabbed another tissue, before thinking twice and grabbing the whole box to take with him.
“Bless, chef. And thank you, you’re a beast,” Elijah said, turning back to the computer once again. “Oh, and one more thing: we still have that tasting with the owners of that winery upstate today. They’ll be in at two – can you still come taste with me?”
Greyson raised an eyebrow and sucked in through his stuffed-up nose again. “Uh. Sure, boss. I’ll mbake it a priority.”
“Appreciate it,” Elijah said, turning to smile at the chef for a moment. “Let me know if you need anything from me.”
***
It wasn’t that Greyson was mad; it wasn’t even that he was disappointed. If anything, Greyson was just...confused.
Don’t get him wrong, Greyson was usually the first person to deny a cold. But he’d known from the moment he opened his eyes that this was no cold; he’d felt the snake-like chokehold of a fever almost immediately, and he’d devolved from a slightly stuffed nose at seven am to near-constant sneezing fits by ten. His throat was nearly closed with pain, and he could already tell that the cough was going to be a problem. He didn’t expect sympathy from his boss, but...some acknowledgment of the fact that he was clearly ill would’ve been nice.
“Huhh...NGSTHH-uhh! HehhGTZSH-ue! Fuckigg hell.” Greyson grabbed yet another tissue from the box he’d placed on his prep station and blew his nose again. His cooks had begun filing in for their shifts, and every one of them had cringed at their chef’s appearance on seeing him.
“Wow, chef,” his sous chef, Matt, had said when he joined his boss at the prep station. “That’s dedication.”
Greyson had made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat before tossing the tissue and washing his hands. “Ndo choice,” Greyson said, turning to cough into his elbow. When the coughing fit finally subsided, he turned back to Matt. “Fifteend-top’s forty ndow.”
“Oh, Christ,” Matt said, unpacking his knives. “Of course it is. What should I jump on?”
“Butcher the filets, please,” Greyson said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “They’ll be mince mbeat if I try to do themb like this.”
“On it,” Matt said, putting his bag under the table. “You take anything for that?” he asked.
Greyson shook his head. “Ndo timbe. I’ve beend prepping since literally the mboment I walked in.” He started coughing again and Matt raised his eyebrows before striding into the server’s station. He returned a few minutes later with a steaming cup and a handful of pills.
“That’s what the servers have; not sure what they all are but it couldn’t hurt to just take them all,” Matt said, handing them and the cup of tea over to his boss. Greyson choked out a laugh.
“I feel like if anything could hurt it’s taking a savage handful of mbystery pills,” he said, tossing them all into his mouth and swallowing with a mouthful of tea. “But I’mb ndot too proud to admit when I’m desperate.”
“Chef!” Elijah called suddenly, bursting through the kitchen doors, obviously on a mission. “The people from the winery are here. Can you break away for a bit?”
Matt raised an eyebrow at Greyson, who just sighed in return. He turned towards Elijah, who was once again texting someone fervently. “Yeah boss, coming,” he said. When Elijah breezed through the doors into the dining room, Greyson turned back to his sous.
“Hold down the fort for mbe?” he asked. Matt huffed out an amused laugh.
“Sure thing, chef. Good luck, uh, tasting wine.”
“‘Tasting’ will be a strong word for it,” Greyson mumbled, untying his apron and pushing through the kitchen door.  
Seated at the corner table was Elijah, a man and woman who looked to be a couple, and about thirty bottles of wine. Greyson’s head pounded at the sight of it, but he took his seat next to Elijah all the same.
“There he is, the man of the hour!” Elijah clapped Greyson on the back as he sat down, and Greyson nodded toward their guests.
“A pleasure,” he said, his voice gravelly. He cleared his throat and asked, “What’re we drinking?”
***
Greyson looked down at his watch for about the tenth time since they had sat down an hour ago. Elijah, taking notice of at least one thing about Greyson, nudged him toward the kitchen.
“Alright, Chef, thanks for your input,” Elijah said, then regarded the winemakers. “He has a big night tonight. Back to the grind, right, Chef?”
“Yeah,” Greyson said, pushing back from his seat. “Thangks, guys. Great wine. Hopefully we can make sombething work out.”
The winemakers smiled back at him easily; the woman of the couple held her glass up as if to toast Greyson. “Cheers, Chef. Hope you’re feeling better soon.”
Greyson colored, and Elijah whipped towards the chef, confused, but neither of them seemed to dissuade the woman’s partner from tacking on his own sympathies. “That sounds like one hell of a cold.”
Greyson meant to deny their accusation, or at least thank them for their kindness, but was rudely interrupted by his nose. “I – HNGSTHH-uhhnn. GTSHH! HehhITSZCHUE! Snrf.” Greyson coughed a little, if only to clear his throat, and shrugged sheepishly.
“Safe travels back,” he said in return, and headed back towards the kitchen.
Once inside, Greyson ducked into his and Elijah’s office and slammed the door shut. He’d done his damnedest to keep his symptoms under control around their guests, but now the floodgates had opened he really fucking needed to – to…
“HNGSTHH-ue! HTSZCH-ue! Huhh...nggg. Huh, huhhhHHHHUHESTZCCHUE! ETSHCCHUE! GTSCHZUE! Fuckigg – HTSHHCHUE!”
Greyson pulled a few tissues out of the box on their desk and blew his nose, thoroughly spent. This is hell, he thought, putting his head in his hands. I’ve died and gone straight to fucking hell.
He considered maybe just crawling under the desk right then and there, cocooning until he was no longer the walking plague, when someone quietly rapped on the door.
Go away, Greyson thought, but whoever it was opened the door before he could say anything. When he looked up, Elijah was standing over him, a look of confused worry on his face.
“Um,” he said, stepping into the office and closing the door behind him. “Are you...ok?”
Greyson felt his face flame once again, his embarrassment near-palpable. Was he okay? Did he look okay? Did he sound okay? For the first time all day, Greyson felt something other than the depth of his illness; he felt livid.
“Yeah, boss,” he snorted, making himself cough hard into his arm. He sucked in through his nose and stood to tower over Elijah, his watering eyes glaring daggers. “I’mb great.”
Greyson pushed past his boss, threw open the door, and headed straight into the deep frezzer to take some breaths and collect himself. The frigid air was a slap in the face, and it gave him the clarity he needed. He may not even be a blip on his boss’s radar; that was fine. He would work even harder, then – make his name even quicker and get the hell out of Elliot’s as soon as was humanly possible. Get the fuck away from this restaurant and its haughty, clueless, thoughtless owner.
The chef pulled himself together as much as he could and stepped out of the freezer. Elijah was, of course, standing right outside the walk-in.
“Chef,” he said quickly, clearly attempting to get his point across before Greyson pushed past him again. “You could’ve told me if you’re sick – I mean, I could’ve called in backup, or closed reservations…” he looked up at Greyson then, apology plastered all over his face. Greyson wasn’t taking the bait.
“Too late ndow,” he mumbled, checking his watch. “Service starts in an hour. Please; I dond’t have timbe for this.”
Once again, Greyson pushed past his boss. He made his way back to the prep table and picked his knife up, before regarding Matt.
“Tell mbe what you ndeed from mbe.”
***
Service was, to put it lightly, hell.
The forty top had gone fine, as well as could’ve been expected, and fortunately there weren’t any problems or send-backs, but Greyson was in absolute agony the entire time. He couldn’t breathe, his voice was mangled from shouting orders, and he was pretty sure he’d infected his entire staff with the insane amount of sneezing he’d done.
The moment the last ticket was stabbed, Greyson put a hand on Matt’s back and said, “You’re up. I ndeed to sit down like...now.”
Matt nodded in understanding and stepped up to the line to make sure the cooks started breaking everything down. Greyson, alternatively, tripped into the office and immediately put his throbbing head into his hands and let loose the coughing fit he’d held back the last four hours.
In the midst of coughing, Greyson heard someone quietly enter the office and sit in the chair next to him. Then he heard something else; a paper cup being placed on the desk next to him. Greyson looked up to see Elijah sitting beside him, quiet. Greyson sighed.
“I’ll pack mby shidt,” he said, rubbing an aching eye with his palm. “I’mb sure you already have sombeone lined up, but I’d be happy to spend a day just showing themb the ropes or whatev -”
Greyson was cut up by his boss reaching up mid-sentence and placing a cool hand on his forehead. Greyson couldn’t help it; he closed his eyes in relief.
“You’re burning up, Greyson,” Elijah said quietly. “Have you had a fever all day?”
The chef wasn’t sure what to say. He shrugged. “I guess,” he said quietly, his boss’s hand still on his forehead. Elijah pursed his lips and took his hand away. Unsure what to do with it, he pushed the cup closer to Greyson.
“Tea,” he said, as if it wasn’t obvious. Greyson couldn’t help but huff out a laugh.
“Okay,” he said, taking the cup. They both sat in silence for another moment, which was only broken by Greyson’s breath hitching for the millionth time that day. “Huhh..hhhNGTSHH-ue! Guhhh.” Greyson grabbed the last couple of tissues out of the box and blew his nose, miserably.
“Bless you,” Elijah said, clearly still unsure what else to say.
“Thangks,” Greyson said, crumpling the tissue and looking back at his boss. “So...am I ndot fired then?”
Elijah chuckled and looked up at Greyson again. “You’re not fired.”
“Okay,” Greyson said again.
After another beat, Elijah blurted out, “I’m sorry. Greyson, I’m really, really sorry.”
Greyson wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Umb,” he said, brilliantly. “Okay.”
“Sometimes I’m just, like, in my own world, y’know? The restaurant...it’s all-consuming, man. I’m always fuckin’ worried about it, and it just gets exhausting. I wish I had more patience and was, like, more...observant. But,” he shrugged. “I’m just...not. So I’m sorry. I’ll try harder.” Elijah sighed, post-speech, and gave Greyson a small smile. “And I’m sorry you’re so fucking sick. You look like hell.”
Greyson set his jaw then, and looked down. He was absolutely not about to let his boss see him tear up, especially not at something so fucking stupid. Instead, he took the cup of tea and sipped it slowly. “I appreciate it, boss,” he whispered. “I’mb, uh… I’mb ndot feeling awesome.” He looked up, having composed himself, and gave Elijah a loopy half-smile. “Long day. Late ndight.”
Elijah smiled back and patted the chef’s knee. “Take the weekend. Okay?”
Greyson swallowed painfully and nodded. “Okay, boss,” he said. “Whatever you say.”
79 notes · View notes
lrndvs · 2 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
compliments from girls go hard
116K notes · View notes
wasabi-gumdrop · 6 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
local ladies man’s signature move totally useless against autistic monster enthusiast. more on Kabru’s fumble era at 6
34K notes · View notes
ashoss · 8 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
patrol is fun :DD
28K notes · View notes
lokh · 6 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
communication is key 💪
20K notes · View notes
wanologic · 5 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
reminder to take care of your loser human body
12K notes · View notes
dapper-lil-arts · 5 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
If Twilight Sparkle had whatsapp 🤣🤣🤣
12K notes · View notes
thelostmoongazer · 4 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
gonna keep it real with you all i mainly got into cotl so i could have better context to read the TROD fic .......
The Rehabilitation Of Death AU belongs to @bamsara the comic scene is from chapter 16 lol
8K notes · View notes
serpentofdusk · 9 months ago
Text
i don't know how to flirt so i just stare at you like a cat dragged out of a dumpster and hope you can see the longing in my panicked gaze
15K notes · View notes
emberglowfox · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Keeper -- a short comic about an angel meeting a robotic lighthouse keeper that doesn't know the world has already ended. Made in about 18 hours for a 24-hour 24-page* black and white comic challenge (that I arrived late to, ha.)
*the actual submission does not include the cover, which was created after the fact for this post.
This was a really great learning experience as someone who's... never really made a completed comic. I ended up really attached to the story by the end of the project (possibly due to all-nighter deliriousness lol) and ultimately am very proud of what I made.There are some things I'd still like to change, particularly text placement, but in keeping with the spirit of the challenge I've elected to leave it as is.
34K notes · View notes
six-tooth · 8 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
this is canon in my heart
12K notes · View notes
aerequets · 2 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
sorry
-
it gets progressively messier the sleepier i get, but i feel like it fits the vibe!
4K notes · View notes
bigfatbreak · 1 month ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
they both got bonked for being silly.
4K notes · View notes
gin-juice-tonic · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Okay well maybe he's cool in the way where you want to study him, but NOT in the way that makes you want to be his eternal cuckoo bananas roommate!
19K notes · View notes
doctorsiren · 2 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
i present another offering of a meme redraw for y’all
5K notes · View notes
arcanegifs · 5 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
The hunt is on. Arcane, the final season coming this November to Netflix.
7K notes · View notes